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Content Warnings: Domestic violence, substance abuse, death, transphobia

“Cadman means fighter,” Louis said with a smile, “I like it.” 

Bethany was used to compliments on her first name, not her last. The men she’d meet at bars like these, eyes lazing over her figure with each drink, all sounded the same. Pretty, hot, cute, sexy. Words Beth had conditioned herself to accept about her body, all the way back when she first started developing. She didn’t need them to remind her!

So, as the two of them clinked their glasses together and downed their alcohol, Beth silently dedicated the toast to something different.

A gentle, strobing light danced through the reflections of her empty glass, pulsing through crushed ice in several glittering paths. Her parents wouldn’t approve of her choice of late night destination, so she simply hadn’t told them. The boys they tried to set her up with were no better than the average bargoer anyway. Besides, she was a college girl now, and these were some of the things she could decide for herself. 

“Want to dance?”

Oh, this one knew how to dance? Definitely different.

“Yes!”

                                                                                    ***

Beth hated funerals. There wasn’t a point to them, really. It was an empty ritual for people to cry and mingle. Now, she could mingle her ass off, but it didn’t mean she’d enjoy it. What other people thought or felt  just wasn’t important enough to bother. 

Given the choice, Beth wouldn’t have bothered coming at all. She hadn’t for Louis’ funeral, all those years ago. Today, she didn’t have a choice. 

One of the advantages of not needing to drive was being able to down some gin before heading to the Church. She’d need it to get through the day. Needed it to get through most days, lately. Nothing felt the same as alcohol easing her body while the hot spray of a morning shower hammered at her skin. Water coursing down her body, closing her eyes and letting everything be carried away to circle the drain, she didn’t have to be Bethany. That peace only ever lasted until she stood in front of a mirror or stepped outside.

Flexing her back against the stiff wooden pew, Beth noticed the two people sitting on either side of her had each placed themselves an entire arm’s length away. Their loss!

Colors flashed on the altar and Beth was slow to find its source. A large screen showed a collage of slowly rotating pictures. Smiling faces, white teeth and bright eyes faded as the image transitioned to show a scenic vista instead, people small in the frame by comparison. The priest’s words, low and rambling, fell even further to the background as the vista blurred out of sight and Beth once again stared into the eyes of someone who no longer existed.

                                                                                      ***

Louis’ light blue eyes sparkled as Beth stared into them, and she mirrored the winning smile she’d fallen in love with. How could she not, she was going to be his wife, Mrs. Gest! His lips were slightly chapped, but they still made her blush as they silently mouthed the pet name he’d pushed through her initial discomfort to. Princess. 

The chapel had a high ceiling, slanted downwards in two halves from a triangle shaped roof. Sunlight passed through stained glass, glittering down in tinted beams to brighten the altar. It couldn’t be much more of a different place than the cheap bar they met in, but it made her nostalgic all the same. The priest was rambling away in their ears, words floating up far away into the rafters. It wasn’t important. 

A cough disrupted her thoughts and as Beth glanced over at the priest, she saw it had been from him. He was mouthing the words I do. Oops.

“Sorry everyone!” Beth’s voice carried through the interior, something that gave her a swell of pride. “I got lost in his eyes for a minute.”

Laughter echoed through the chapel, but there was a noticeable emptiness. Looking over the pews, the right side, Louis’ family, was all smiles, hands in motion as the noise calmed down. The left side was much more reserved. Only half of the family Beth had sent invites to responded, and of that number only another half had actually shown up. Those here had barely registered a reaction to the joke at all. 

It was their fault, Beth reminded herself, for being so stubborn. Louis had been sober for an entire three months, and she couldn’t be more proud. No matter what her parents insisted, the two of them had a future. Even if they weren’t here to see the celebration.

She turned back to Louis, finding the deep shade of his chestnut brown eyes, the faint hint of stubble that lined his angled jaw. She remembered long nights with clothes discarded on the floor, whispered words that could make her feel like more than just Bethany.

“I do.”

The priest didn’t get to finish his next line before they kissed, and as warmth spread through her body, Beth tried to tell herself she was happy.

                                                                                   ***

Beth was the first one to arrive at the cemetery. She supposed it was to be expected, with everyone else having to drive through downtown. Since the battle three days ago, traffic in Rosden had been brutal. An entire two blocks had been closed off for repairs, plaguing the city with detours and constant jams. The construction company had their work cut out for them. Who knew when it’d be fixed up again?

The cemetery grounds were characterized by a rolling field of grass, blades trimmed to a neat buzz. It wasn’t so different from the punctured, cratered asphalt where Thorn’s vines had torn free. Gray slabs stabbed out of the green expanse, marring the scenic view. A name would be on each of the headstones, a reminder of what used to be a person. How many were completely barren of flowers? Beth pitied them.

There were a few huddles of people spread out through the field, faces indistinguishable from each other with the distance. Could be coincidence, but some were definitely funerals from the aftermath of the battle. They’d reported the number of deaths on the news that same night, but Beth hadn’t remembered it. Oh well! There wasn’t going to be a pop quiz or anything.

Beth’s brain conjured up memories of college, the stiff chairs she was forced into to take those grueling exams. She’d tried complaining, first to her professors, then to deans, about making the classrooms more comfortable. None of them listened, and it made her furious. Sure, they couldn’t make every chair a cushioned, craft piece like she’d grown up with, but with all the money they had, anything would be an improvement.

They could have at the very least pretended to listen. Fuck them, anyway.

The first of a line of black cars pulled onto the cemetery road a short ways behind her, and Beth’s arms cradled her chest, a desperately tight grip unable to hide her shaking.

                                                                                    ***

Louis hit her for the first time three weeks into being married. Bethany could picture perfectly the distant look in his eyes, wide pupils staring straight through her. The stink of liquor overpowered his minty aftershave. She’d long since lost count of how many times she’d been struck over the two years of being Mrs. Gest. They faded into each other, a numb routine. 

This, however, was the first time she’d struck him back. Her right hand throbbed with a dull pain, the left clutching it instinctively. Louis’ wide shoulders heaved with panting breaths, standing only a few steps away from her in the kitchen of their apartment. A red line traced across his jaw, bright in contrast to his dull, overgrown stubble. As the tips of her left fingers stroked her wedding ring, they came away slick with blood.

Beth’s gut told her to apologize. She opened her mouth, but the only sound to escape was a dry rasp, voice cracking before it could form anything resembling a word. 

“Why…” Louis muttered, one hand leaning on a counter with dirty utensils scattered across its surface. Beth didn’t bother trying to answer, body locking her in place the way it was supposed to when he got worked up. She would get through this, and then they could go back to being a happy couple. What had even driven her to fight back?

Louis stepped forward, away from the counter and nearly within reach of Beth. He gripped a knife in his right hand, the edge still streaked red from chopping tomatoes.

It wasn’t the knife that shattered her state. It was his eyes. Light blue and present, they gazed into her own. The alcohol or whatever it was that would possess him wasn’t there. It was only Louis, the man she’d fallen for, the man she’d married. And he was pointing a knife at her. She was here, and so was he. Together.

Beth’s knees struck the hardwood floor, crumpling in on herself. Tears blurred her vision, the trembling knife a dull line through the warped reflections of Louis’ brown slacks and the pieces of their kitchen. 

The knife left and then it was just Louis, bent down to her level. His stubble was overgrown and dry patches of skin marked his cheeks. 

“I’m sorry, princess.”

He started the way he always did. Louis’ cracked lips moved, honeyed words coming out, but they only burned at Beth’s disordered head. Experience told her she should nod, affirm his apologies no matter if she understood them or not. That was how the Louis she knew would come back. That was how she survived.

Time passed and Beth didn’t move besides trembling involuntarily, frigid nerves misfiring down her spine. Despite the shimmering outlines of a man and a room around her, she saw clearly. The Louis she loved was always capable of this. 

The kitchen, Louis and Beth at the center of it all became impossibly small. She could still pinpoint her body as reality unfolded around her, but she wasn’t just inside it anymore. An expanse crackling with excitement, despair, everything, burned at her senses. Beth could reach out, with what she didn’t know, and her entire consciousness would simply travel, go. It felt like stars themselves tickling her, passing through skin, flesh, whatever made up her body. Beth’s being itself brushed against lifetimes, explosions of emotion passing by in a single second. There was a connection, faint binds between every piece of what she was experiencing. It didn’t matter how far her mind raced through all the space, all the possibilities, she knew where her body was, each feeling and point she touched in sequence.

Then, Beth was simply Beth again, knees aching against the hardwood floor, knowing that what she had just experienced was more real than anything else in her brief life. 

Louis’ arms were around her, shackling her in place so he could whisper professions of love in her ears that she knew were lies. She wanted to separate herself from it all, push herself away. She needed to. As the thought became stronger, something solidified in her head, a faint bond that lingered in resemblance to the out of body experience. 

Time passed again, Louis finally releasing her to leave the room, muttering something she couldn’t process properly. Instead of relief, emptiness clawed through her. No, not quite emptiness. There was something new as well. Beth could push in a way she couldn’t before, overlaying a shape on her surroundings and thinking of a direction. It came naturally, like flexing her fingers. She was still alone in the room. It would only take a little willpower to test whatever this was.

Without thinking, Beth pushed. Absent of any touch or physical force, her wedding ring floated down the length of her finger, scraping against her nail before it left it completely and clattered to the floor.

                                                                                    ***

Petting Zoo was the first to approach as everyone arrived. She stood parallel to Beth, leaving a few steps between them. They faced the pit that had been opened up in the earth, eyes wandering the dirt caked somewhat neatly along its four edges.

“How was the drive?” Beth asked.

“Shit. How was the flight?”

“Better.”

Caroline snorted, forcing a weak smile. Beth glanced right, just in time to see it die on her face. Caroline’s mouth was the only visible part of her expression, a stylized mask cutting off right under the nose. It resembled a grizzly bear, wavy lines decorating a light, fuzzy texture. More stuffed animal than nature documentary. 

Beth looked down at her own costume, cape waving behind her with the weak breeze. Stars and space… dust, in a variety of blues and purples, popped out from a midnight black bodysuit. It was too cold outside, so she wore gray leggings under her skirt instead of baring her legs as she usually does. 

“Feels weird to be here in costume, doesn’t it, Grav.”

Beth nodded. There was nothing to be done about it. Manuel’s will had included that his identity as Reflection be revealed. Every hero here was in costume, as protocol dictated, to protect their identities. It was just like Manuel, to choose this. Unafraid to let everyone see who he was, to be a real example.

Hands clenched to conceal their shivering, memories flooded Beth, just like they had at the Church earlier. Of course, even in death, the stubborn asshole wouldn’t leave her alone. From the first time they met at Rosden’s NHA headquarters, Manuel had seen something in her that she couldn’t. Saw through the bravado she clung to, performed effortlessly after years of practice. Beth knew she was different from everyone else, just like Louis and her would laugh about, but Manuel fundamentally disagreed on how. She wasn’t strong, like Manuel would always insist. She’d fought and she’d survived.

Manuel hadn’t. 

Now, when thinking of the two of them getting margaritas at that campy corner bar downtown with tiki torches, she knew it was the last time they’d be able to drink together. With several drinks down the hatch, he’d stay firm and insist she wasn’t a bad person when she prodded him. Just as ridiculous as when he was sober. It surprised Beth just as much as him when she leaned forward and kissed him. Even then, he’d simply scooched back on his shitty little stool and shook his head. No matter how much Manuel cared, he’d never hurt her.

“Beth?”

Caroline’s voice brought her back to the cemetery. Back to the hole in the ground.

“Sorry.” Beth muttered, moving aside for the coffin to come through as she became aware of her surroundings.

The rest of the heroes gave the celebrated Gravity Girl a wide berth. Nearly all of them knew how close she and Manuel had been. No one knew how to approach her about it. 

Manuel’s coffin was smooth, the light oak contrasting with the shadowed, muddy brown of the pit it was to enter. 

It was a perfect fit.

                                                               ***

The fuzzy trench coat had been the right choice, Beth concluded, as a chill wind whipped around her. It was oversized, hanging low on her legs and bagging under her arms. Her body was almost completely covered. 

The roof of their apartment building was dimly lit, a murky night sky overhead. A brief flash of light brought Beth’s attention to the roof’s edge, a faint wisp of smoke rising from where Louis pulled on a fresh cigarette. He leaned easily against the metal railing, posture slumped and slightly wobbling.

An emptied beer bottle lay on its side, a soft scraping noise following wherever it rolled. Extending her sense out into her surroundings, Beth pushed down, and a force weighted the bottle, freezing it in place. The roof became silent. 

Beth had spent a lot of time the last few days appreciating just how comfortable stillness, silence was. Her newfound power was easy to practice without Louis noticing. There was so much at any given moment that could intrude. It only took a little push to stop the tree branch that dangled over the bedroom window from tapping against it when the wind was strong. The rattle of the loose doorknob to the living room had been fixed by holding it still. Shutting the vents was easy when even the sound of fresh air blowing became annoying.

“Beth…” Louis mumbled something unintelligible in her general direction, another intrusion.

Intrusion was a good word for it, wasn’t it? Beth had barely even thought about how crippling everything was until she became comfortable with her power. Her parent’s expectations had pressed in on her from a young age, to be successful, beautiful, to do their name proud. Expensive dresses, private lessons, private schools. All so she could marry a man and surrender what she’d worked so hard to create. Of course, she’d chosen what her parents decided was the wrong man. After years of letting them rule her, doing everything right, they saw fit to discard her. 

Louis slurred something else unworthy of attention, itching at Beth’s focus.

The mold others chose had cleaved right through her. What could she have been? What did Beth want to be? Louis had excited her, told her that she was special. The hope she could find something only led her into a nightmare.

“Princess…”

Tracing the shape of a circle below Louis’ feet, Beth pushed upwards.

Louis’ eyes moved more in a moment then they had for the last hour. Craning his neck, he searched desperately for the reason his feet had left the ground. Held still, floating peacefully at railing height, light blue eyes came to rest on Beth. His lips traced something resembling words, but she didn’t care to listen. Pressing outwards, a newly formed tunnel carried Louis gently beyond the railing before he fell out of sight.

                                                                                ***

Most guests were quick to dissipate as the funeral ended, splitting apart and quietly finding their way out. A crowd of reporters and cameras were held back by the gothic style iron fence that lined the cemetery grounds. Even if there was reason to linger, better to meet elsewhere than within the media’s sight. Which was why, among the figures shuffling apart, the old woman standing still with eyes set on Bethany alerted her. 

Graying hair with hints of golden brown that shone through in the midday sun hung over the sides of the old woman’s face, cut a bit past the chin. Faint dimples could be made out from her wrinkled, tanned skin even though she wore a consuming sadness rather than anything close to a smile. As Bethany met her eyes, she gave a little nod and walked closer. Recognition set in as the woman approached, Beth having seen her only from a distance during the Church service. Manuel’s mom. 

“You would be Bethany, yes?” Her voice was soft, with an accent Beth remembered was Brazilian. Manuel had talked fondly about her, but despite racking her brain, Beth couldn’t remember her name.

“Yes- that’s me.” Beth felt distinctly out of place in her Gravity Girl costume.

“I’m Alma, Manuel’s mother. He spoke about you often.”

Beth struggled to find something to say. Of course he told his mother about her. Everyone in that family was probably just as stupid as he was.

“He meant a lot to you, didn’t he?” Alma continued.

Beth only nodded.

“It’s hard… accepting that he’s gone. Manuel doesn’t deserve to be buried. There’s so much more…” Alma trailed off.

“I keep thinking I’m going to see him, walking around HQ, turning a street corner… even here, flying out of the earth like it was all a big mistake.” Beth responded quietly. 

There were so many who deserved to be put in the ground, but not Manuel. Beth’s fingers curled tight, thinking of how she had helped to populate some of Rosden’s graves. Her power made it so easy. All she needed was a vantage point, and anyone could “slip” while crossing a busy street. The ones she targeted deserved it. Abusers who’d gotten away scot-free, those with power the NHA wouldn’t be able to touch. Sure, the Director would give her stern warnings, but they needed Gravity Girl. If only she could’ve chosen one of those bastards to take Manuel’s place. 

“Just breathe, Bethany. You’re alright.” Alma’s voice cut through the train of thought, warm.

A willowy hand rested on her shoulder, and Beth focused on the contact, letting the tension in her body slip away with a slow exhale. She’d have to pour herself another drink when she got home. 

“Thank you, Alma.”

The older woman held her hand there a while, letting Beth’s breathing ease further before pulling back to take out a cell phone. Beth noticed, as Alma brought up her own contact page, that she didn’t wear a wedding ring.

“I want you to have my number, Bethany. If you want to talk more about Manuel, whenever you’re comfortable. You’re welcome to visit anytime too.”

As Beth gave a polite response and took out her own phone to enter Alma’s number, she wondered if the other woman knew she was a murderer. Just how much did Manuel tell her? Would it be possible for anyone to understand? Rather than the sharp glare she probably deserved, Beth’s dim eyes caught a soft, gentle smile, one that waited patiently just for her. 

Beth turned her head away. She was distantly aware of the goodbyes exchanged with Alma, but only after they’d started to head their separate ways did she settle back into the world around her. 

Caroline stood several paces back, head tilted up towards the sky. Beth hadn’t realized she’d been waiting there.

“Hey.” Beth spoke in a low voice as she walked closer.

“Hey.” Caroline responded, facing Beth rather than the scattered clouds overhead. “Are you feeling alright?”

Beth stared at Caroline’s mask, where a lack of eyes met her own. Just a still, inanimate texture that would appear the same no matter how she felt.

“Yeah. I’ll be okay to fly home.” 

“Good. Good. I’m worried about Leah, I don’t think she’s taking it well.”

Beth found Oracle in the background, wearing the ridiculous blue and pink costume she insisted on. The young hero paced slowly, hesitating to follow the rest of those leaving.

“Leah’s looked that way since the battle. Manuel was someone she looked up to. He was trying to protect her, when he…” More than just that, there was also the villain she’d been trying to save. She couldn’t forget the scene. Manuel’s body. The macabre mess of flesh that’d been Bulldog. Then Leah, crouching over someone who shouldn’t have even mattered, screaming at Equilibrium.

“Yeah. I wish there was more I could do.” Caroline muttered.

“What could be done anyway? She’s still a child. Has to broadcast how she feels, insist on the things that she wants. Always making her issues into her identity. Can’t just bear it and spare everyone else.” Leah was too deluded to understand her. Bethany had the sense to recognize there wasn’t enough left of what she could’ve become, that it was too late to do anything but survive. 

Caroline only stared, and Beth felt movement beneath the still, fuzzy texture of her mask even if it wasn’t visible. She’d said enough to stir something in Caroline, and knew whatever her comrade had been trying to communicate was gone. Oh well. Beth’s eyes found Leah, closer to the exit than she’d been when their conversation started, and the scene in that alley conjured itself again. 

In spite of everything, the villain girl had lived and Manuel hadn’t. Whatever Audrey Ansetl chose to become in the future, hero or otherwise, Bethany would never forgive her.

                                                                                  ***

A heavy knocking from the door startled Beth out of her thoughts. It shattered the stillness she had nestled herself into, a violent invasion. Standing from the apartment’s carpeted floor, Beth took cautious, ginger steps towards the source of the intrusion. Police again? Her power left no evidence and she was certain there hadn’t been any witnesses. A simple suicide by a struggling alcoholic, in which Bethany played no role. They had nothing on her and Bethany was glad to recite her story and remind them if needed.

Opening the door, different faces than she’d expected caused Beth to momentarily freeze. At their head was a tall, stern looking woman with a set jaw and neatly buzzed red hair. She wore a suit in black and white that perfectly hugged broad shoulders, clearly tailored. Two nondescript men flanked her in similar outfits. They were tall, clearly muscular, but still failed to compare to the woman. She cleared her throat, speaking in a clear alto.

“Bethany Gest?”

Cadman, Beth wanted to correct her.

“Yes?” She said.

“I’d like to talk to you.”

“Who are you?” If they were here to hurt her, Beth could easily use her power to incapacitate them. 

“We’re from the National Hero Association. If there are no further questions, we’ll be coming in now.”

Beth grappled for something, but in the moment of hesitation, the woman simply stepped forward, polished leather boots crossing the threshold of her apartment. The slight muffled sound as they sunk into the carpet grated at Beth’s senses. 

“Shall we sit?” The woman asked.

Struggling to make herself comfortable, Beth suppressed the shivers running down her body by pressing her back flat against the wooden kitchen chair. The wait as the still unnamed woman removed her boots and strode calmly to the chair across from her only made everything worse.

“I’ll get straight to it,” The woman started, seating herself comfortably as if she’d spent longer here than Beth herself, “We know you’re an alterhuman and that you’re responsible for your husband’s death.”

Beth’s brain kicked into overdrive, eyes darting to the two men who’d accompanied the woman, standing on either side of the apartment door with arms folded.

“Don’t do anything stupid and you won’t have to worry about them.” The woman continued.

Meeting her eyes, Beth realized they were both bright amber and utterly focused.

“Good. The NHA has resources the local police don’t, and evidence to back it up. I’m here to make you an offer. If you refuse, we’ll share what we know with them. Understand?”

“Yes.” Beth croaked.

“The offer is employment. You will work for Rosden NHA under probation. We will help you explore your powers. No one will know what you did unless you choose to tell them. Outside of that, you’ll be completely free.” The woman laid a packet on the table in front of Beth as she finished speaking, what appeared at first glance to be a contract.

Beth began to read, but quickly realized her eyes were glazing over the words as everything else roared inside her head.

“What’s your name?” Bethany asked, glancing up at the woman again.

“Cassiana. Director of Rosden NHA.”

“You’d hire a murderer, Cassiana?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation.

Bethany looked down at the contract again, finding enough control to skim through and find the line for her signature. Was she doing this? It was something different. It was a chance. Most importantly, it wasn’t prison, where she was sure even more of her would be carved away, never to be recovered.

Bethany Cadman signed. Cassiana presented her with a vulpine smile.

“Welcome to the NHA.”