CHAPTER 10: THE NIGHT NURSE
Consciousness returned in fragments.
Light. Too bright. The smell of antiseptic and something cooking. Pain—but distant, muffled, like it belonged to someone else.
I tried to move. My body refused.
"Easy." A woman's voice. Claire. "You've been out for two days."
Two days.
I forced my eyes open. A small apartment, clean but cluttered. Medical supplies on the counter. Curtains drawn against the sunlight. Claire Temple sat in a chair beside the couch where I lay, watching me with the clinical detachment of someone who'd seen too much to be surprised anymore.
"Water," I managed.
She handed me a glass. I drank, throat burning, hands shaking so badly I spilled half of it down my chin. She didn't comment. Just refilled it and waited.
"The men," I said. "In my apartment—"
"Gone by the time anyone checked. Cops found signs of a struggle, blood on the floor. No bodies." Claire's expression was unreadable. "Your neighbors reported hearing a fight. Police are calling it a break-in gone wrong."
I processed that. The thugs had recovered enough to flee. Or someone had cleaned up after them. Either way, no bodies meant no murder investigation.
Small mercies.
"How did you—" I gestured weakly at myself, at the apartment, at everything.
"Carried you in. Wasn't easy—you're heavier than you look." She leaned forward. "You want to tell me what happened?"
I thought about lying. Thought about a cover story, something plausible. But Claire had seen me at my worst—half-dead, covered in blood, babbling about powers I didn't understand. She deserved the truth.
"Three men attacked me. I fought back." I stared at the ceiling. "I shouldn't have won. I've never been in a real fight. But something happened. I moved faster than I should have. Hit harder. Like someone else was driving and I was just along for the ride."
Claire was quiet for a long moment.
"Your ribs were bruised when I checked you. Badly. Should have taken weeks to heal." She pulled back the blanket, lifted my shirt. The skin was smooth, unmarked. "It's been two days."
I touched my side. No pain. No tenderness.
"What am I?"
"I don't know." Claire sat back. "But you're not the first person I've treated who could do things they shouldn't be able to do."
The masked man. Matt. She was talking about Matt.
I didn't say his name. Didn't even hint. Whatever confidentiality existed between Claire and her other patients, I wasn't going to break it.
"Does it happen to everyone? This... enhancement?"
"Not everyone. And not the same way." Claire stood, moving to the kitchen. "Some people are born different. Some are made different. Some just... change." She pulled a can from the cabinet. "Soup?"
My stomach growled. I hadn't eaten in two days.
"Please."
The soup was Campbell's chicken noodle, straight from the can. Microwaved until it was too hot, then too cold by the time I could hold the bowl steady. The noodles were mushy. The broth was salty.
It was the best thing I'd ever tasted.
"Thank you," I said, scraping the bottom. "For the soup. For everything."
Claire rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "You can thank me by not dying in my apartment. The paperwork would be a nightmare."
"I'll try my best."
She cleaned up while I lay there, slowly remembering how to exist in my own body. The weakness was fading—not gone, but manageable. Like recovering from a bad flu. Every hour felt a little more human.
"The others you've helped," I said eventually. "The ones who can do things. Do they all... crash like this?"
"Some do. Powers aren't free." Claire leaned against the counter. "There's always a cost. Exhaustion. Pain. Sometimes worse."
"What triggers it? The powers?"
"Depends on the person. Stress. Danger. Emotion." She studied me. "What triggered yours?"
I thought back to the dark apartment. The three figures stepping out of the shadows. The certainty that I was about to die.
"They were going to kill me. Three of them. I was scared, and angry, and—" I shook my head. "Something just... activated."
"Three opponents." Claire's eyes narrowed. "That's interesting."
"Why?"
"Because the other person I help—his abilities are always on. Constant. Yours sound different. Conditional."
Conditional. The word stuck in my brain, turning over and over.
Three attackers. Power surge. One attacker at a time probably wouldn't trigger anything. But multiple threats...
"I need to figure this out," I said. "What it is. How it works. Whether I can control it."
"You need to rest." Claire's voice was firm. "Your body just did something it's never done before. Push too hard, too fast, and you'll break something that won't heal."
She was right. I knew she was right.
But I also knew that Union Allied was still out there. That they'd sent men to kill me once and would probably try again. That Karen was still in danger, and Matt was still fighting alone, and Hell's Kitchen was still burning.
I couldn't afford to be weak.
"There's a burner phone on the table," Claire said, reading my expression. "Your regular phone was cracked. Use that for now." She handed me a folded pile of clothes. "My neighbor's. He's about your size. You can return them whenever."
"You've done this before."
"More times than I'd like." She moved toward the door. "I have a shift in an hour. Stay as long as you need. There's food in the fridge. Don't answer the door."
"Claire." I caught her arm as she passed. "Why are you helping me? You don't know me."
She looked at me for a long moment. Something complicated moved behind her eyes.
"Because someone has to help the people who help this city. Even when they're too stupid to help themselves." A ghost of a smile. "Get some rest, Roy. We'll figure this out."
The door closed behind her. I lay in the quiet apartment, listening to the city breathe.
Seventeen missed calls on my old phone. Foggy. Karen. Two from an unknown number. They'd been looking for me. Worried.
I picked up the burner, typed a message to Foggy: Sick. Fine now. Explain tomorrow.
Not much of an explanation. But it would have to do until I figured out what the hell I was going to tell them.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling.
Two days unconscious. Powers I didn't understand. A secret I couldn't share with anyone except a nurse who patched up vigilantes in her spare time.
Well, I thought. This is my life now.
I closed my eyes. Sleep came faster than I expected.
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