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Tyrant by SavicusVonde

Books » Worm Rated: M, English, Adventure, Words: 88k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Aug 2, 2021 Updated: May 28

253Chapter 2: 2 - Amy

Amy let herself drop into the mindless routine she'd gotten so used to. Heal one, then the next, then the next. There was always another one, somebody else that she could save and if there wasn't then it was because she was too late. And she hated them for it. If one more person came up to her, begging her to fix some minor injury like a broken leg she swore she'd snap. It was an empty threat, even if some days it didn't quite feel like it was. That line…

Despite the hospital itself not being overly cold she found herself shivering. No, that was a line she could never cross. If she could barely hold herself together now then she couldn't bear to imagine how hard it would be to put herself back together again, something that she knew she'd have to do if she broke her self-imposed code. Better to stay Panacea, to just be the healer. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of the sanitized building. In a lot of ways, the smell made her feel more at home than most anything at the Dallon's house.

Absent-mindedly, without even needing to focus on what she was doing, Amy fixed up the man in the hospital bed in front of her. He'd been shot three times. Another victim of the gangs infesting the city, or a member of one of them himself. It didn't matter, she put him back together just like everyone else. As she gave the same rote instructions of making sure he gets larger meals for the next few days her thoughts drifted even further away on an invisible wind.

Today was one of the few days she hadn't been meant to come to the hospital. What felt like most of the day had been taken up listening to Vicky gush about the double date she was being dragged on again. It wasn't like she'd said no, she never did and never could, not to Vicky. Even just thinking about it caused a roiling wave of self-loathing to rush through her. It wrapped around her like a well-worn cloak, nearly comforting in its familiarity.

When Vicky had flown away just before whatever boy she was meant to be getting to know this time showed up, Amy hadn't known whether to feel relieved on not. It meant she hadn't had to bother listening to another guy gush about how much he admired her (her) or almost worse, try and fail to hide how he was only interested in her Cape work. One of the guys Vicky had tried to set her up with had even tried to use it to ask her to heal his dad. He'd only had a fractured wrist, she'd checked.

She wouldn't have to deal with trying to fight down bursts of jealousy whenever Dean and her sister interacted at all, let alone the irrational hatred she'd feel when they did anything close to public displays of affection. Especially since she knew that Dean, Gallant, could feel it every time. She'd lost track of how many times she'd dodged that conversation and if the boy could just take the fucking hint it would stay dodged.

Instead she'd been left alone, not having the faintest desire to wait around to meet the guy Vicky had roped into the date, familiar fatigue pulling her down without her sister around to keep her up. She could've gone home, where chances were that Mark would be having one of his many bad days having not taken his medication again, where she'd feel guilty for not at least trying to fix it and then even more so for feeling tempted to try. More importantly, by that time in the evening Carol would either be at home or on her way back. That more than anything made the choice for her, without Vicky there as a barrier there was no way she was willingly spending more time at the house.

Dean had offered to drive her to the hospital when Amy had said where she was going, they were already halfway there when Vicky had flown off. Part of her wanted to accept, if nothing else than to let the guy stew in the vicious satisfaction she knew the disguised Ward could feel wafting off her. The rest of her knew that he would take the opportunity to try and talk to her, and if there was one thing that she didn't want it was to talk about her feelings with the guy behind at least half the negative ones. Fuck that, and him and his high horse he apparently couldn't get off. So she'd gotten out and taken the bus instead, barely managing to bite out a curt thanks for the offer to Dean before slamming the door.

Vicky would be back to normal soon, or perhaps more likely, she'd call Amy up to fix whatever gangster she'd pushed too far in an attempt to work off her relationship problems. Honestly she had probably gotten back already, Amy thought as she glanced at the clock. Time seemed to simultaneously pass unbearably slowly and far quicker than she expected whenever she volunteered, it had already been hours since she'd got here, night having long since fell across the city like a blanket. Any minute now one of the staff would come to kick her out, more politely than that of course but the meaning would be the same. She wondered what it said about her life that her home felt like a prison and that she'd rather spend time surrounded by the sick and dying. Some days she wondered if the Cape life was worth it. Being Panacea was stifling, choked by responsibilities and failures because what else could it mean when someone in the hospital died before the girl who could heal nearly anything got to them? It was only the thought of what Carol would do if she got any hint of her wanting to stop and, more importantly, how disappointed she knew Vicky would be in her.

Someone tapped Amy on the shoulder, making her jump. She turned around to face a worried doctor, he looked around his late forties or early fifties, with some greying hair in his patchy beard and slightly receding hairline. Doctor Carlisle, one of her primary points of contact at the hospital. Initially he'd been more of a minder, when she'd started volunteering there had been some unease about letting such a young girl work with the patients in intensive care, let alone trusting a parahuman to put everyone together properly. They didn't understand, nobody could really without getting in her head, the level of knowledge she got about the human body just by touching it and how easy it was to fix was astonishing at first. It was boring after the first month, by now it was just another mindless chore.

"You need to go home," He said, not unkindly, looking down at her with worried paternal eyes. Amy knew he had a daughter at home, half his desk was covered with photos of his family. A bitter feeling roiled in her gut, hating how much that look affected her, "It's already eleven, and a school night. I'm sorry I only got to you know, I had patients that needed my attention."

Patients that she hadn't gotten to, he meant. Another failure. The thought came with the ease of something often repeated. Amy waved her hand, though whether it was to dispel the thought process or to push away the doctor's words she didn't know. Both, probably.

"In a bit, I can still keep going."

She turned away, hearing Carlisle sigh heavily behind her. They'd had this exact same conversation so many times it had practically become as much a part of the routine as the healing was.

"That's not the point and you know it," his voice was full of fond exasperation even if below it there was a current of real frustration, "This isn't healthy. You of all people should know that."

"Is it healthy for all of these people," Amy gestured at the beds she hadn't gotten to yet with a sweeping wave, "to stay like this when they could be walking home, completely healthy in minutes?"

"We are doctors you know? Even if you took a break, some time to yourself, anything, they'll still be getting the best care we can give them," Carlisle rebuked her gently, "You're of no use to anyone if you push yourself too far."

She pursed her lips beneath the scarf of her costume, he always like to use that line of logic. 'How many lives can you save if you burn out, or worse?'. A little part of herself, deep inside and squashed deeper whenever it raised its head, whispered how he was right, how things would only get worse if she kept pushing. Why couldn't they understand? What did that matter when she couldn't live with herself knowing there were people here that needed her help? Every death was a weight on her conscience dragging her deeper underwater.

"We're all so grateful for what you do for us here but," he paused to lick his lips, trying to decide how to phrase whatever came next, "Panacea, Amy, we can all see what this is doing to you. Just because you're a Hero doesn't mean you're not a person too. Please, go home, sleep and for the love of god don't come back tomorrow. Take some time to yourself, go paint your nails or whatever it is teenage girls do in their free time."

Unwillingly she felt her lips twitch up no matter how hard she fought against it. Rest sounded good, too good. How many people would die if she took a nap? Without Vicky to drag her away to a movie she didn't feel any temptation to go see one, and she couldn't deal with those lives on her mind. What was there for her to do but heal?

"I-"

Amy started but was cut off by a ringtone she recognised instantly. Vicky? It wasn't so late that she should be calling worried about where she was (and it was always her, never Carol), in fact most of the time she'd come straight to the hospital without calling knowing this is where she'd find her. It didn't matter, before the call had even gotten past the first ring, she had dug the phone, a cheap thing meant for emergencies, out of her voluminous white robe and hurriedly accepting the call. A thrill shot through her fingers, eager to hear Vicky again. No matter what it was about, it would be better than carrying on down this well-trodden road with Doctor Carlisle.

"Hey Ames," Immediately she knew something was wrong. Victoria sounded like she was on the verge of tears, she could easily hear the great gulping intakes of air her sister was taking between words, "I think I really fucked up."

Amy froze. The very first thing that came to mind was that Vicky had finally gone too far, taken down a gangster too hard. None of the previous times had shaken the normally upbeat Glory Girl as bad as this had though. Had she really killed someone? Her fingers clenched tight around the old phone; knuckles bleached white against her skin.

"Vicky," the sounds of crying carried easily over the line, "Victoria! I need you to calm down. What's wrong?"

There was a pause as she heard her sister pull herself together, sobs dying down into quiet whimpers that physically struck Amy like hammers. She'd never heard Vicky this broken up by something, even when she'd nearly killed any of those gangsters she'd had to heal, or after any of the particularly bad arguments with Dean.

"I'm hurt, my arm… oh god my arm Ames," Vicky gulped in another deep shuddering breath, "I need help. I, fuck this hurts. Ran into some new Brute Asshole-"

She could hear the capitalization and emphasis on that insult even over the phone.

"That's not important," Amy cut her off quickly. It was difficult to tell without seeing her but it sounded like Vicky had gone into shock, "Where are you? I'll be right there, you're going to be fine, try and keep calm."

She'd already started moving before she'd finished talking, boots smacking angrily against the cold floor. Doctor Carlisle called out behind her, but the words were indistinct in her panic. Fluorescent lights blurred together over head; her fast walk quickly turned into a run as dread pooled in her gut. As much as New Wave liked to display it like she was, Vicky wasn't invincible, she could be hurt and it wasn't even that hard. Amy had had to patch her up enough times from a stray bullet fired at an unlucky time while her forcefield was down enough times to know that. But that was the worse it had ever been, just a graze from a bullet here or a cut from a shallow cut from a knife Vicky had barely dodged there.

"I'm off, shit," Victoria hissed, she'd probably jostled whatever had happened to her arm while trying to look around, "I'm downtown, a block or two off Lord Street. You remember that electronics store Eric dragged us to, on Trinity? Asshole robbed it and I… tried to stop him, I'm just outside it."

Amy distinctly remembered Vicky being just as excited to check out the latest phone model but wisely kept quiet.

"Got it, I'll be there soon. Just, just stay calm okay? You'll be okay," she repeated, trying to push as much of the optimism being near Vicky gave her back at the girl.

"Okay. Please hurry, this hurts like a bitch," Her sister spat like the idea of admitting it hurt her even more, "Could you," Vicky hesitated before pressing on in a rush, not giving her any time to interrupt, "could you call Mum? The PRT are going to be here soon, and the cops and I doubt whoever turns up is going to give me much space to do it myself."

If she hadn't been so worried about getting to Vicky, Amy would've stopped dead in her tracks. Speaking to Carol at any point was very, very low on her priorities, let alone while she was hurrying to put Vicky back together. She took a deep breath, both from the need to calm her nerves and from her body rebelling against the punishing pace she'd set for herself. Whatever had happened had shaken Vicky up more than she'd ever seen her, if it was for her…

If it was for her then Amy could do it.

"Fine," Amy ground out, her own voice almost as broken up as Vicky's from her harsh breathing, "I'll tell her to come get you. Tell the PRT or whoever turns up that you're not going anywhere until I see you first. It'll be okay."

Her attempts at optimism weren't convincing, not even to herself. Vicky was the optimistic one, not her.

"Thanks, I'll see you soon yeah?" Real gratitude thrummed in her sister's voice and Amy tried to push down the butterflies that caused in her stomach. Very much not the time.

"Yeah," she tried to put as much confidence into her voice as she could.

Just before the line went dead, Amy heard a faint 'Motherfucker!'. Clearly Vicky had moved her arm again. Hurriedly, she threw her phone back into the deep pocket she'd pulled it from. Calling Carol could wait, first she needed to get a lift to her sister. Luckily, she was no stranger to the paramedics who drove the ambulances, all it took was a brief explanation and the address of the store Vicky had told her about. It hadn't been that long ago that Eric had taken them there and it was near the centre of the Downtown area, easily remembered.

A few minutes later, the ambulance was roaring down the road. There wasn't much in the way of traffic, almost every business had closed for the night and most of the city was probably asleep. Now that was something to be jealous of, sleep. Lucky bastards.

Amy's finger wavered over the call button on her phone, struggling with herself. She'd promised Vicky she'd do it, but it was a lot easier said than done. Carol was difficult at the best of times, who knew what she'd be like finding out her daughter had been seriously hurt. Cynically, Amy wondered if that would bother her more than the PR consequences of the PRT seeing Vicky that badly injured. Of course it would, Vicky was her precious daughter after all. She snorted, getting an odd look from the paramedic driving the ambulance to her. He looked barely older than her, maybe a recent graduate of medical school, curly black hair and a nametag she couldn't read in the low light of the city at night.

Shaking herself out of it, she finally gave up on delaying and pressed the button as violently as she could. All it did was hurt her finger. It rung for what felt like an eternity, her stomach dropping away from her. Only her promise to Vicky kept her from ending the call before Carol could pick up.

Finally, "Amy," even over the phone she could see the disapproving downturn of her adopted mother's lips, "I thought I told you not to call except for emergencies. This had better be important."

The 'or else' went unsaid but clearly heard.

"Vicky's hurt, badly," if it had been anyone else that had been hurt then Amy would have taken vindictive pleasure in the shocked silence from Carol, she took the opportunity to rattle off the address again before the lawyer could get her thoughts back together, "I'm already on my way but she said the PRT were too."

There was a beat or two of silence other than some rustling from her adoptive mother's side. She was probably getting changed into her costume, tonight hadn't been one of her patrol nights. It hadn't been Vicky's either.

"I see," the words were slightly off kilter, though Amy could only hear that because she knew her so well, buried as it was under icy professionalism, "I'll be there soon."

The line went dead and that was it. Naturally, she didn't get anything else, no 'good luck' or 'be safe', just the normal cold detachment she was so used to. She hadn't been expecting it. It had been years and years since she'd dared hope for anything close to affection from her supposed mother. It was times like these, where the nail was driven further into her heart, that her mind wandered to her real parents, whoever they were. Carol refused to tell her anything about them, as if dropping the slightest hint would magically let her know their identities and change everything forever.

Again, Amy's fingers wrapped too tightly around the phone, this time in a low simmering anger. She pushed it down and away with practised ease, another problem she couldn't do anything about. Even if she hoped against hope that one day Carol would change her mind, she knew she wouldn't. It would take a force of nature to change that woman's mind and Amy just didn't have the energy for it anymore.

It wasn't important, not at that moment. The only thing that mattered was getting to Vicky and making sure she was safe and healthy, not the nebulous worry as to what about her parents could be so bad that just telling her would be dangerous. Why was it that every time she talked to Carol she felt like tearing her hair out afterwards? Or just crying, definitely crying.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind to the numbing whine of the emergency sirens. After a few moments, she let it out again, slumping forwards in her seat as she did so. They were almost there already, the lack of traffic sped up their travel a lot, not having to worry about traffic lights or collisions. Right now, Vicky needed her help, not for her to be worrying about something ultimately pointless again. That was right, Vicky needed her. Amy ignored the small tingles that sent through her body.

Soon, but not soon enough for her, they rounded the corner onto Trinity Street. In the seat next to her, the paramedic who she still hadn't learnt the name of instantly started to catalogue the damage to the shop and the street. Even if he hadn't known which shop he'd been looking for beforehand, the giant hole in the shutters at the front of it would've given it away. Shards of glass were scattered across the pavement outside, whoever had done this hadn't cared about the damages he'd caused.

But Amy only had eyes for the white clad figure slumped down on the ground. Vicky normally lit up her surrounding no matter where she was, tall, athletic and downright gorgeous; the shivering form curled up on the asphalt looked nothing like her. Her normally neat hair was wilder, spiked golden tiara crooked. Worst of all though was the red seeping through the sleeve on her left arm and the pieces of bone she could see poking through in multiple places centred around her elbow.

Beside her, a blue and silver armoured form loomed over the broken body of Glory Girl. Armsmaster turned when the ambulance shot round the corner, taking in the approaching emergency vehicle calmly. His mouth moved, saying something to her sister. Weakly, Vicky rolled her head up to see the flashing light of the ambulance before it lolled back down. Whatever he'd said, Amy couldn't hear him, the local Protectorate leader and his stupid bike taking a faraway back seat to her worry about Vicky.

She jumped out before the Ambulance had fully stopped well clear of the shattered glass. Slamming the door behind her, Amy ran across the broken pieces without worrying about them. One of the few pieces of armour afforded to her by her costume were the thick, almost militaristic, boots that were always hidden beneath her shifting white robe. The minuscule danger of a tiny shard of glass didn't even register in her mind as she rushed to her sister's side.

"Vicky!" She called out as soon as she was close enough

"Hey Ames," Vicky's voice was hoarse from crying, but not weak, "Sorry I'm not getting up to greet you."

"Idiot. There wouldn't be a problem if you didn't go and get yourself beaten up."

"Yeah," her sister trailed off in the most defeated tone she'd ever heard from the normally upbeat girl. Inwardly she kicked herself viciously. Of course she wouldn't want to be reminded about that, "Is Mum...?"

"On her way," Amy nodded, "Now just be quiet and let me put you back together.

"Not going to give me the whole speech? You know, 'do I have your permission to heal you' and all that?" She held up a hand to stave off Amy's deadpan glare, wincing heavily at the movement, "Fine, fine. Just think it sounds cool is all."

At least it seemed like her hysteric mood had died down in the time it took her to get here. Amy wasn't sure she'd have been able to deal with that, it had been hard enough over the phone, she couldn't imagine doing it in person. She could put people together again physically easily, emotions were not her business and not something that she was qualified to help with at all.

She gently took the hand at the end of Vicky's uninjured arm, pushing through the excited thrill at the contact and had to choke back a strangled gasp. Whatever had hit Glory Girl had completely shattered the bones in her arm and stressed both the shoulder and wrist joints. On a more cosmetic level, she could feel where bruises would quickly appear in the shape of large fingers wrapped around her wrist. There were more, much more minor, injuries; standard deficiencies in the human body and the like but the amount of damage of what looked like a single blow was staggering. Whoever had done this to Vicky… the hand she wasn't using for the check-up curled up into a tight fist, trembling in poorly suppressed rage. She tried to hide how serious it was, but her sister knew her too well.

"That bad huh?" She asked dryly, "Definitely feels it. Do your thing Ames."

Her thing. Right.

It didn't take much concentration at all to start the process, but she let herself sink into it rather than watch the bone be pulled back under Vicky's skin. She'd have to feel it either way, but she could do without that imagery in her head. Sleeping was hard enough as it was some nights, she didn't need more to add to that. As usual, she took from the relatively unneeded parts of the body to fuel the changes she wanted. Vicky didn't have much in the way of fat stores anyway, as if she'd let herself have them when she could just ask Amy to get rid of them at any time, so she had to use up a lot of what was there to power the healing. Her sister wouldn't complain about being forced to eat more for the next few days, Amy knew she'd twist Dean into taking her somewhere fancy when they inevitably got back together in an attempt to bankrupt the rich boy.

A few minutes later it was done, Vicky was back to as near perfect health as she could get her. Reluctantly, Amy let go of her hand, even as Vicky raised the other one and flexed the muscles in her arm. She had to fight down a blush at the bright grin her unhealthy fixation shot her way.

"Thanks Ames, you're seriously the best!"

Amy's stupid, rebellious heart skipped a beat. God did the girl not see what she was doing to her? No of course she didn't, how could she ever see stupid mousey Amy as anything more than her sister. Ah, there was the self-loathing.

A cough from the other side of her sister brought both of their attention to the gleaming form of Armsmaster. He'd honestly slipped her mind in her rush to treat Vicky, though she wasn't sure how considering the sheer bright gleam of the tall man's power armour even just under streetlights.

"Be that as it may," he started, like it was just another day at the office. To him, it might as well have been she supposed, "Now you should be able to answer some questions correct?"

Amy felt herself bristling in defence of Vicky in the face of the Hero's blunt question. She knew he was oblivious sometimes but surely he saw how her sister had just been through a traumatic experience? Said defiance died when a chilled voice called out from further down the street.

"I must say I have some questions of my own," the tone could have frozen a stream of molten rock.

Dressed in her signature white costume trimmed with orange, icon of two swords crossed over her chest, just above where her own arms were crossed. Whatever part of her mind that wasn't too exhausted cackled a darkly, Carol Dallon had arrived. Prepare for trouble, it laughed, and make it double.

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter, wrote it out pretty quickly just this evening so there's probably some spelling and/or grammar mistakes I didn't see in my quick read through. Originally this was meant to be a much shorter chapter than the first but that... didn't happen. I'm having quite a lot of fun playing around with different character's perspectives, even if I fail to capture them properly.

Current plan for the next chapter is an actual shorter side one before Tyrant makes a return. Hope everyone is doing okay and having a good time.

One final note, the response to this fic has seriously amazed me. The number of watchers on SB alone blew me away, let alone including this site and SV. Thanks everyone so much for reading it, I hope you continue to enjoy it.

Chapter 284 - 2