Page 73 of The Not So Super Hero

“When I woke up at the hospital, no one was there and I tried. Oh God, Zane, I’m so, so sorry!

I tried to find you, but no one knew anything and I just, I thought you were gone.

” Marceline’s words came out choppy, some words blurring together like she wasn’t breathing properly.

While Zane felt bad for it, he thought maybe Marceline needed this talk as much as he did.

“I’m so happy. I’m so happy to hear your voice. I’m so happy.”

And she kept repeating that between her tears while Zane tried his best to be comforting and say, “I’m happy to hear you, too.”

Her cries grew louder, though they resembled that of relief rather than sorrow.

It took a few minutes for Marceline to calm down, Zane as well once the tears started.

During that time, the two asked the simple things.

How are you, what have you been doing, where are you living, all these little things that led up to the big questions, the hard questions.

Not like neither of them actually wanted to know.

Obviously Zane wanted to catch up, so did Marceline.

But it was the fact that they both needed time to just adjust that made them linger on the small talk.

“If you could call me all this time, why didn’t you?” Marceline asked. The question stung in ways Zane couldn’t describe. He picked at his own shirt. Strings hung off the edges that he tugged to wrap around his fingers.

“Antoine told me you didn’t want to see me,” Zane answered in a low voice. “And after what happened, I believed him.”

“Why would you believe him?” Marceline asked, and oh, Zane felt like a child again because he wished she was there to run her fingers through his hair or hold him like she used to. He felt stupid for the desire. At the same time, he would do anything for it to happen again.

“Sweetie, what happened was an accident. You didn’t mean to do it,” she continued.

“I could have killed you.”

“You could do that without a mutation,” Marceline argued, her motherly tone coming into play. “Every one of us, mutant or not, has the power to hurt others. You were just a child. Accidents happen.”

He almost hated how right Bailey was. He needed to talk to Marceline. He needed to hear her voice. He needed to see her again too, and he hoped he would soon. Most of all, though, he needed her forgiveness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs and his head in his hand. “I’m sorry about what I did and what I said. When I yelled at you about acting like my mother…”

“Don’t apologize,” she interrupted.

“I don’t understand how you can’t be mad at me.”

“I don’t understand why I would be.” Marceline laughed, the sound bringing a smile to his face.

“I was never mad at you. I never hated you. All I’ve ever wanted was to see you again and tell you that everything will be ok, that it wasn’t your fault, and I love you so much. Even now, I love you so much.”

“Yeah, I love you too.” They were words he had said far more recently than ever, though he didn’t regret that. Quite the opposite. They had become relieving, easing all the weight that he had no idea was crushing him all these years.

Zane could hear the smile in Marceline’s voice afterwards, the two talking, just talking.

It wasn’t about anything important, honestly.

Hell, they ended up speaking about the weather.

It was just anything and everything, so much that his throat grew sore, but he didn’t want to get off.

Often he asked himself if Marceline could talk to him for so long when she had kids, but he didn’t want to bring it up.

For once, he didn’t want to stop talking.

But as the two continued to speak, he contemplated telling Marceline the truth of what had been happening.

He had mentioned nothing about Rebirth, only spoke of Antoine once.

Marceline did not know that he planned to face Antoine.

After speaking with her, facing that bastard wasn’t as daunting.

Either way, their conversation took a drastic turn when Zane brought up a topic that made them both uncomfortable.

“I’m going to face him,” he said, his voice getting low once again. “Antoine.”

Marceline hesitated to respond. Even without seeing her, he sensed the scowl on her face.

“Are you scared of him?” Marceline inquired, the question stumping him.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, since there was no point denying that truth. Antoine frightened him. What he was capable of was frightening, what he was willing to do even more so.

“Your mutation is fear. It can show us what we fear more than anything.”

Zane flinched at the mention of it, realizing that Marceline knew firsthand what it was like. It was almost sad how she probably knew more about Zane’s mutation than he did simply because she had felt its wrath.

“Before you face him, you need to accept and face what frightens you most of all. Do you know what that something is?” Marceline asked, like she somehow knew the answer. Something told Zane that she did.

He did. Zane always knew. Some people could guess what their fears were. None never quite knew the truth until they faced that fear, though. However, Zane had known since the day he looked in the mirror and saw, for the first time, those dark eyes staring back at him.

“I know,” Zane answered, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. Holding out his hand, he glared at it like that would somehow help him feel any better. It didn’t. No matter what happened, in the end, what he feared most was himself.

The ever-growing power within him. Every passing day, that power festered, clawing as if it hungered for more.

What he was capable of. What Antoine was capable of because of him.

How easily he could hurt others, sometimes without his own consent, it was more terrifying than anything else.

He feared himself, and if he had to face his fears to beat Antoine, how the hell did he face himself?

“Sweetie, I said it before, but I’ll say it again. Every one of us has the power to hurt others,” she said.

“But—”

“Don’t but me,” Marceline ordered, which shut Zane up real quick.

He could envision her rubbing her temple and wondered what sort of face she would make if she were there with him.

“Darkness lives in all of us. People are not born with a destiny to be good or evil. There is only right and wrong and the choices we, as individuals, make for ourselves. In the end, the only thing that defines you are the choices that you make. You decide who you are, Zane. Simple as that.”

Marceline’s words struck a chord in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain.

It felt as if his whole life he had been a puppet tied on the end of the string, but suddenly the puppeteer was gone.

He could move entirely of free will, and with free will came the hard decisions.

Where did someone start when they had never started something before?

He wasn’t sure, but perhaps knowing he could begin anew was a start? And maybe not knowing what to do afterwards was better than knowing it all.