June 6, 33 AE

According to Nakia, Camilla had been on the roof last, but the roof no longer existed, nor did most of the higher floors. Most likely, she fell when that first bright white fireball–the one made of magnesium–hit, and she probably would've kept falling until she reached a relatively undamaged level. So Mack had to start looking where the biggest damage ended.

The first ten floors or so were fine, and nothing was abnormally out of place except for the dim emergency lighting. Things started falling apart on the next ten floors, and Mack couldn't help but keep an eye on any large cracks in the walls he passed, as if he'd be able to do much if everything suddenly collapsed on top of him. When he reached the twenty-seventh floor, gaping fractures stretched through the stairwell like spiderwebs, and the door to the hallway was dangling on one hinge. After a shaky breath, Mack tentatively poked his head through.

It took a moment for Mack to process the scene and how it looked nothing like the Barracks he remembered. For one, everything was dark, and the only lights came from the moonlight shining through the building's new skylight that started about halfway down the hall. In the darkness, the sound of debris crumbling and the building ominously creaking seemed to echo in his ears, and Mack worried that the mere reverberations from the surrounding helicopters would demolish the structure instantly.

Mack took another deep breath, then started coughing as the smell of dust and quite possibly sewage encompassed his senses. As he cleared his lungs, he switched on the flashlight secured to his chest pocket, illuminating the musty hall before him.

Fortunately, the south side of this level seemed mostly intact; unfortunately, this stability ended about ten doors down, where the rest of the level had vanished. But it was possible he could spot Camilla from the hall's premature end, so Mack tested the floor in front of him with a fraction of his weight before proceeding slowly.

The place was, understandably, a mess. His flashlight bounced light off of the fine dust that drifted through the air, swirling with Mack's movements. As he steadily approached the gaping hole in the ceiling and floor, he could see debris crumbling off from the broken concrete before him, and the sound of it hitting some unknown floor below took ages to reach his ears.

Briefly, Mack froze, and he furiously blinked away memories from his mind before continuing.

He paused about eight feet away from the edge and leaned forward, attempting to see as much as he could from his relative safety.

As expected, it wasn't much. The attack had made a vertical crater in the building, and Mack could see remnants of his and the surrounding floors in the distance, leaving only fractions of kitchens and bedrooms behind. He could see bent rebar protruding from broken concrete and small waterfalls pouring from the few floors he could see. Broken cables dangled off the edges, and ripped plaster flapped gently in the breeze like white flags.

But there was no sign of Camilla.

"Camilla?" Mack called out, listening to his voice echo in the crater. "Camilla Wyatt?"

Silence.

Mack hesitated before he took a tentative step forward, then froze for a second, waiting for the floor to crumble beneath his feet. But it held, so he craned his neck out for a better look.

That's when he fell.

The concrete broke with a sharp crack, sending Mack plummeting down. He was helpless when he felt his legs crash through the level below as well, and he couldn't do anything except shield his head with his arms. After crashing through one more floor, he fell hard on the next one with a heavy grunt, landing harshly on his right shoulder.

When a blinding pain shot up his arm, Mack bellowed a nonsensical jumble of curses as he blinked away stars from his vision. Through his confusion, it took him a while to register what just happened. It took him even longer to realize that his pain was coming from his shoulder, and it was very likely dislocated.

While the superhuman strength he got from Bobo helped most of his body survive the fall, Mack obviously had the joints of an old man.

His first instinct was to use his abilities to alleviate the pain while he popped his bone back into its socket, but he vetoed the idea almost immediately. He had no idea what state Camilla was in, and if she hadn't answered his yelling, she probably needed all the help she could get. Their best option was to conserve his energy.

So Mack grit his teeth and carefully heaved himself upright, then held onto his right wrist with his left hand. He had to hold his breath to keep from yelling as he lifted his arm out directly in front of him, but he couldn't hold back his cries when he yanked it forward, and a new wave of blinding stars filled his vision.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, thankfully on his left side instead of his right. He must have passed out, and his vision swayed as he pushed himself upright again, then carefully onto his feet. As expected, his shoulder still throbbed, but Mack only spared enough energy to verify he didn't do any life-threatening damage to himself before moving on.

Judging by the placards posted by the remaining doors, he was now on the twenty-fourth floor, and it didn't look much better than where he came from. Still, the floor managed to stop his fall and that had to count for something, so Mack chanced another look at the crater.

His fall must have knocked his fear, or common sense, out of him since he approached the edge of the hallway without hesitation. Even when he heard the concrete crumbling beneath his weight, he kept searching, hoping to see some sign that this was all worth it.

And then he found it: a hand hanging limply over a balcony on the northwest side, six stories up.

Mack sprinted back towards the emergency stairwell, ignoring the sound of the floor giving out as soon as he jumped from it.

He took the stairs two at a time, and the pain in his injured arm only spurred him to go faster. Mack was so focused on running that he almost missed the sign for the thirtieth floor as it lay broken on the dusty linoleum floor.

His momentum came to a screeching halt when he peered out the empty doorway. Most of the floor was missing, and the sections that remained were hanging on for dear life. Nearly all of the walls were gone as well, leaving Mack with a clear line of sight to the opposite side of the building where a small figure lay sprawled out on the floor, motionless.

Mack saw the Academy in his memories, and a student buried underneath the rubble.

"Camilla!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. "Camilla!"

But she didn't move. She didn't even flinch.

The next moments were a mindless blur as Mack jumped across the remaining parts of the floor, not staying on a section long enough to wait for it to collapse, nor looking back to see if it survived the impact. Only a fraction of his mind bothered to be surprised when he made it across the building in one piece; most of him was shocked by the sight before him.

Camilla looked battered and lifeless, and most of her skin was pale except for her red, raw hands and forearms. Her oversized T-shirt and baggy athletic shorts, both with the Org's logo, made her look even smaller than she already was and were scattered with rips and dark stains. Mack could tell that she was breathing, but every inhale seemed so shallow that Mack wasn't sure how effective it actually was. And when he felt her pulse, it was no stronger than a feather brushing his fingertips.

"Camilla," Mack pleaded, gently tapping her shoulders. "Camilla, can you hear me?"

Nothing.

He shifted his hands inwards where her loose collar exposed parts of her shoulders, and his fingertips rested against her burning skin, trying to make contact as close to her heart as possible. The energy she controlled from the magnesium fire must have scorched her from the inside, and Mack had no idea what internal injuries he was about to face. So he braced himself then closed his eyes.

Camilla's light was so dim that Mack almost didn't notice it at first. It looked more like a wispy fog in the night rather than the normal neon glow, and Mack struggled to find the worst of her injuries amongst the darkness. Eventually, he settled on a range of cells that extended from her arms and through her chest, and while her hands suffered the worst damage, her heart was the most at risk.

So Mack poured his energy into her, not being able to breath until the light in her body strengthened to a comforting brightness. Once her heart stabilized, he sent his energy to do a cursory check of her other major organs before focusing on her hands. He quickly realized that the damage was more extensive than he originally thought, and he felt as if he was regenerating her entire hand.

Suddenly, Camilla tensed beneath his hands, and Mack's eye snapped open.

Camilla's face was pinched in a constant wince, and her breathing was growing erratic. She was probably panicking, understandably so, and that wouldn't do her weakened body any favors.

"Easy, Camilla," Mack said as calmly as he could. "It's just me."

Except Mack's words had the exact opposite effect. Camilla bolted upright, shoving Mack's hands away, and scrambling blindly backwards. Initially, Mack moved to hold her back before she fell off the balcony, but the sight of Camilla's unfocused and terrified eyes made him freeze unwillingly. Thankfully, Camilla stopped on her own in the nick of time, and Mack kept his distance to keep from startling her any more than she already was.

"It's just me," Mack repeated slowly and soothingly, almost as if he was coaxing an injured stray cat out of hiding. "Mack. Mackenzie. Olomana."

But Camilla stayed where she was, her eyes wide and wary, and her arms trembling under her weight.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, the accusations in her voice sounding a lot stronger than she looked.

With that one sentence, Mack knew something was very wrong, and Camilla was nothing like how she was the last time he saw her. Gone was her bubbly and wild persona that seemed to bounce around the film sets like a pinball. The Camilla before him wasn't just scared; she was defensive, angry, and would probably try to kill him if he made the slightest wrong move. Mack wouldn't be surprised if the latest attack was to blame for her sudden change, but his instincts told him there had to be more to it.

"I just want to help," Mack assured, belatedly realizing that he had raised his arms in a non-threatening way at some point. "Your cells--some of them are seriously damaged. You shouldn't even be leaning on your hands right now."

"I'm fine," Camilla insisted.

Just then, one of her arms gave out from under her, and Mack was just about to jump forward when Camilla caught herself.

"I will be fine," Camilla amended, looking even more irritated.

Mack bit back a frustrated sigh. "Camilla..."

"Don't act like we're friends," Camilla snapped.

"Sorry, habit," Mack apologized, then finally released his restrained sigh. "Wyatt, I understand if you don't trust me, but please, just let me help you get out of here, at least."

Camilla scoffed. "And why would you do that?"

"Elsie asked me to," Mack explained simply. "Elsie Bates."

At the mention of Elsie's name, Camilla's hostility melted away, leaving nothing but pure concern.

"Elsie?" she asked immediately. "Is she alright? Where is she?"

"She's fine," Mack insisted, absentmindedly wondering how many more sides of Camilla she had hidden away in her tiny figure. "She called me asking if you were alright, since you weren't answering your phone. I told her I would find you."

For a moment, Camilla was relieved. Of course, that didn't last long, and Camilla's expression quickly turned hostile once more.

"What's in it for you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

Mack normally considered himself to be an easy-going guy, but his patience was seriously being tested right now. He blamed being thirty stories high in an unstable building.

"Nothing," he said with all of the calmness he could muster. "Elsie's my friend, and I want to help her. And you're my colleague. We have to look out for each other."

Camilla obviously wasn't believing a word he said, but at least she didn't shoot him down immediately. Although, that may have been preferable to what she actually did, which was attempt to stand on her shaky feet.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Mack exclaimed, scrambling forward with his arms outstretched and ready to catch her if she fell. "Let me heal you a little first."

"That can wait," Camilla snapped, but her legs were already shaking in her squatted position.

This girl was impossible. The longer he waited, the more of her cells would die, and there was so much a healer could do with regeneration. For instance, they couldn't create functioning organs and limbs out of thin air, and that's exactly what Camilla would need if she waited too long.

"Did you not hear what I said earlier?" Mack asked incredulously, unable to conceal his frustration any longer. "You have serious cell damage. After you--oh, what's it that people are saying? Oh right, you channeled the energy from a ginormous ball of magnesium fire. Do you know how hot those things are?"

"Obviously," Camilla muttered deadpan.

Of course Mack should have expected nothing but sass in return.

"Then just give me one minute, okay?" Mack compromised. "One minute, and then we can go."

It felt like it took forever for Camilla to weigh her options in silence, but that could have been Mack's anxiety reacting to the Barracks swaying gently in the breeze. Finally, Camilla nodded, and Mack moved to continue where he left off.

But just before Mack placed his hands back on Camilla's arm, he froze. He had a nervous feeling that Camilla wouldn't react well to being touched, and he raised his eyes tentatively to meet hers. As expected, she was watching him like a hawk staring down prey; Mack gulped.

"I'm... I have to touch your arm," Mack explained, even though Camilla definitely knew as well as he did how meta-abilities worked. "Is that okay?"

Part of him expected some snarky comment from her, so he was surprised when she was silent for a moment, then gave him a small nod. And with that, Mack got back to work.

He focused on her arms and hands again, since those injuries were the most susceptible to permanent damage. But after reevaluating what he was dealing with, Mack wasn't sure he had enough energy left to make a difference. His vision was already wavering, his head felt light, and his own hands were beginning to shake like Camilla's legs had done; he was intimately familiar with the signs of fatigue and over-exertion to know his limit was fast approaching.

So when he saw Camilla clench one of her injured hands, his reaction was understandably delayed.

"I know it's a weird sensation, but please try to relax your arms," Mack muttered, maintaining his focus as best as he could.

When Camilla remained as tense as ever, Mack shrugged it off as a sign of her ridiculous stubbornness. But when her breaths grew short and uneven, Mack's head snapped up immediately.

Camilla's eyes were wide with fear, her gaze transfixed ahead of her. But when Mack turned around, there was nothing but the fragile skeleton of the building.

"Camilla?" Mack asked, turning back to her. "What's wrong?"

But Camilla remained frozen in place.

"Camilla?" Mack repeated, shifting his hands on her arm to feel her pulse.

Her heart was racing, and Mack realized that he wasn't the only one shaking either. And when he turned around again, he finally saw what she did: it was the Academy. Camilla was a student when the Academy was attacked, and she was seeing the school instead of the Barracks just as Mack had done.

"Camilla," Mack repeated, tightly gripping her wrists. "Camilla!"

Camilla gasped ever so slightly, and she blinked slowly as her gaze wandered around aimlessly before eventually landing on Mack.

"Phone," she breathed, as if she could only manage a single word. She took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. "I need my phone."

"Wait, now?!" Mack asked, then scoffed when Camilla nodded with wordless determination. "First of all, I am nowhere near done healing you. Does the possibility of potentially permanent cell damage have any affect on you? No? Then how about getting your arms amputated?"

Camilla merely glared at him, unphased. "What's the second thing?"

"The second--?" Mack sighed, then let go of Camilla to hold his head in his hands. "How can you possibly think about going back down in this condition? You can barely stand--!"

He looked back at Camilla as he made his last complaint, only to find her carefully trying to get to her feet on her own, completely ignoring him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he exclaimed, holding his hands out in front of her in a "stop" gesture. (Because words clearly had no impact on her.)

"I'm going to my apartment," Camilla said, still ignoring Mack's concerns. "My phone might still be there."

"Nuh-uh-uh!" Mack scolded, holding his hands an inch above her shoulders.

He figured she felt uncomfortable by his touch, but he didn't think his weak blockade would stand a chance against her stubbornness. Surprisingly though, it worked, and she stopped halfway to her feet.

"Move, Olomana," Camilla demanded.

"Nope," Mack snapped back. "Just sit back down and let me finish healing you."

Camilla's glare somehow grew harsher. "Move. Now."

But Mack stood his ground. "You're going to have to make me."

In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have challenged her because she easily accepted. With a simple flick of her wrist, he felt the sleeves of his uniforms jerk upwards, positioning his arms as if he was begging for surrender. Or calling a touchdown, depending on context.

"There, I made you," Camilla retorted as she carefully stood up straight, and she blatantly turned away from Mack's bitter glare before restoring freedom to his arms. "Now let's get down from here already."

Of course, that was easier said than done. Mack completely forgot how he got from the stairwell to the balcony, and even if he did remember, neither of them were in any condition to replicate it. When Camilla offered to fly them both down, Mack couldn't hide his skepticism over her abilities, but she didn't take offense to that. Instead, she offered to leave him up there if he didn't like the idea, forcing Mack to begrudgingly accept her proposal.

"How do you want me?" Mack blurted out without thinking. And, at Camilla's raised eyebrows amongst her seemingly bored expression, he explained. "Do you want me to, like..."

Mack made an exaggerated hugging motion around Camilla's shoulders, careful to not actually touch her. When Camilla's expression didn't change, Mack began to think of a different way to ask his question, but he was startled out of his thoughts by the ground disappearing beneath him.

"What the--" Mack floundered, trying and failing to not panic as he slowly levitated off the ground.

"Don't move," was all Camilla instructed, her expression as impassive as ever, before she joined him in the air and sent them both floating down through the Barracks' remnants.

Her apartment was a few floors down and on the opposite side of the building from the attacks, but there still wasn't much of it left. As soon as Camilla set them down in her relatively unscathed bedroom, she began to search for her phone, leaving Mack to observe even more of the destruction. At the sight of the gaping hole where the kitchen should've been, he felt like he should say something, anything, that might be of comfort. Sure, this Camilla seemed to be putting up an unaffected front, but even she had to feel some sense of loss for her ruined home.

But when he turned to Camilla, ready with an apology, she seemed more concerned about her phone as she tapped the screen more aggressively than necessary with a tight frown on her face.

"Phone lines are packed," Mack explained, guessing her predicament. "You could try texting. You might not get a reply for a while, but it'll go through eventually."

Camilla was shaking her head before Mack even finished. "I need to see Elsie. Now."

Once again, Mack bit back a frustrated sigh. "But the Org--"

"I don't care," Camilla interrupted with a firm glare. "I need to see her."

Mack paused to regain his patience, but also to think. Elsie would want to see for herself that Camilla was safe. Plus, Camilla would find her way to Elsie with or without his help, and she'd definitely be safer if he tagged along. He'd just be looking after the Org's prized guardian.

Besides, he didn't want to linger around the Barracks and the associated chaos, both of which stirred up terrible memories. The only thing he wanted to do was go home and give Jordan the biggest hug he could manage, just to remind himself that he was still alive, that he made it through this entire mess.

But he couldn't leave. He needed to heal the injured, or replenish the energies of the other guardians assisting with rescue efforts. He would probably be sent to the nearby hospitals to assist with backlogged emergency rooms. He probably wouldn't get to go home at all, not until he finished his regular assigned shift later in the day.

No. Screw that. Let them give him mandatory overtime. Let them send him to Farallon Prison. Right now, he just needed to see Jordan.

Mack sighed. He was really going to do this, wasn't he?

"Fine," he surrendered. "But only because Elsie would agree with you."

Since Camilla begrudgingly admitted that she might not be capable of flying them all the way down, they took the emergency stairs. It was a long and stressful trek down, and Mack may have had a mild existential crisis or five at some point, but they eventually made it to the street safe and sound.

Thankfully, most people were too busy to pay them any attention as they tried to blend in with the chaos and sneak down the street to Mack's car. Only one person, a Class 1 meta from Internal Affairs that Mack recognized from the new transfers list, stopped and questioned them.

"Sorry, but I need to take her to medical first," Mack quickly stepped in when he saw Camilla about to speak up with a disgusted expression. "You can talk to her after."

The meta glanced at Mack, irritated. "It's crucial that we get statements as soon as possible after an incident like this."

If they were someone Mack knew, he would use his natural charm to talk his way out of this situation. And while Mack had an excellent success rate for befriending strangers in less than three minutes, he didn't have that kind of time.

Mack nodded in agreement. "Okay, fine. But can I get that in writing? I don't want to be at fault if one of America's best guardians is permanently out of commission because her injuries weren't treated when they should've been."

While Mack's threat of office politics worked better than he expected, the meta still took issue with bending the rules.

"Then show me your identification," they said, a frown still plastered to their face. "I need to make note of it so we can schedule a debriefing."

Mack quickly offered his up, but after the meta took down his information and turned to Camilla, she wasn't so cooperative.

"My name's Camilla Wyatt," she said, glaring. "I don't have my ID on me."

"You're supposed to carry identification with you at all times," the meta said, taking Camilla's attitude as a challenge. "That's a rule, and I'm going to have to write you up for violating that."

Camilla let out a fake gasp of surprise; Mack averted his eyes from the scene with a wince.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Camilla feigned regret. "I should've stopped to grab my identification before I left to hold off the dozens of fireballs threatening to destroy the Barracks and let us all succumb to flames or be crushed to pulp by stray debris. My mistake."

"So it's in this building?" the meta asked, somehow unphased by Camilla's snark. "The one you just walked out of?"

"How observant of you," Camilla stood her ground. "You're absolutely correct. Apartment 2516. Did you write that down? You're welcome to get it yourself." She scoffed. "Try not to get crushed by the building if it falls."

And with that she simply walked away, turning her back on the meta's furious expression.

"Sorry," Mack quickly apologized before jogging after Camilla, and neither of them looked back.

---

NOTES

I had a bit of fun with the parts that Camilla glossed over in her POV, and I hope readers of Triple Point enjoy these alternative glimpses as well! (For the curious, see Triple Point Chapter 17!)

As always, thanks for reading and voting!