Busted Flush

Just Cause: Part IV

Carrie Vaughn

LIMBO

KATE SAT CURLED UP in a chair by John’s hospital bed. She’d come here to explain to him in person. She hadn’t known he would be in the hospital. The timing of all this was shitty.

He’d have a scar, the doctors said. They’d stitched the wound as well as they could, but Sekhmet had done a lot of damage when she tore out of his head. He was lucky he hadn’t bled to death.

Sekhmet had done a lot of damage to him, period.

His forehead was bandaged, so she couldn’t see the wound. Probably for the best. John seemed to be sleeping soundly for the first time in . . . For the first time since she’d started sleeping with him. His expression was slack rather than tense with unconscious anxiety.

She thought she might try to find some soda or coffee or something. Straightening, she winced—her arm was still sore. She’d stopped taking the pain pills. They made her fuzzy. She wanted to stay sharp, for just a little while longer.

Then she could collapse into a sobbing puddle of tears, when no one was looking.

As she stood, John opened his eyes.

“Hey,” she said, moving to his side.

He gave a tired smile. He might not be able to do much more than that for now. Maybe they ought to enjoy this time, this moment in limbo, before they had to make any decisions.

“You’re here.” He even managed to sound surprised. “I thought you were pissed off at me.”

“I am,” she said. “I was. We can talk about that later.”

He shook his head, annoyed, and tried to sit up. Winced, slumped back, and picked at the IV line, which had become tangled with his hand. She helped straighten it.

“This changes everything. It’s all different now,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

His weak smile turned bitter. “I’m right back where I started. No powers. Nothing. I’ll be resigning from the Committee. Then . . . I don’t know.”

If ever there was a moment she wanted to throw something at him, this was it. “Is that what this is about? You feeling sorry for yourself because you don’t have a beetle woman living in your head anymore?”

He frowned. “She wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad? She—”

“She left me,” he said. “She chose me, and then she left me, and it’s like I’m . . . I’m empty. I feel empty.”

Kate felt the expression of horror on her face, and she couldn’t erase it. John actually sounded sad that he had his own life back.

And for the first time Kate realized that with their telepathic and emotional link, he’d been closer to Isra than he’d ever be to her.

Kate closed her eyes and took a breath. Probably shouldn’t be yelling in a hospital room. But she wanted to.

“John. It’s so nice to be talking to just you for a change.”

“Even if I’m just a nat.”

“I liked you before Sekhmet ever came along. It has nothing to do with anybody’s powers.”

“You liked Drummer Boy, too.”

“Wait a minute. Do you think I only hooked up with you because you suddenly got powers? It couldn’t possibly be because you were the nicest guy on the set? Because I had such a good time just hanging out with you?” Not to mention John hadn’t fucked almost every other girl on the set like DB had. Those days on American Hero seemed like such a long time ago now. “You were the only one who saw me, not Curveball the ace or the hot chick.”

He still wouldn’t look at her. “You said you were coming here to talk to me.”

He had to know what she wanted to talk to him about. Couldn’t put it off any longer.

“I can’t do this anymore. It’s changed from when we started. I feel like someone else’s tool. And I don’t like it. So I’m going to take some time off.”

“Leaving. With DB,” he said. Like a dog worrying a bone.

“Just leaving,” she said.

He smirked. Like he didn’t believe her. With sudden clarity, she realized the Committee wasn’t the only thing she couldn’t stay with anymore. She had thought—hoped—she could leave one and not the other. But maybe that was wishful thinking.

She didn’t want to have to say this to him. Not like this. But pity was a trap she didn’t want to fall into. Feeling sorry for him would make them both unhappy. More unhappy, rather.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” And he didn’t say anything. She wanted him to deny it. To grip her hand, however weakly, and reassure her. Plead with her. But he didn’t say anything. “You’re always going to be worried that I’m going to leave you for him. Or the next flashy ace that comes along.”

“DB was right. Maybe I was trying to keep you two apart. Because I was right, too. That if you two were together, you’d end up with him—”

Enough of this. Enough of being batted back and forth between them like a tennis ball. They all needed a time-out.

“I don’t think you even see me anymore,” she said. “I think I’m just . . . just this thing to you. Some kind of validation.”

“Kate—”

“So I’m going to take some time off.”

“Wait a minute—”

“I’m sorry, John.” She kissed him. Lingered. Met his gaze for a moment, and didn’t like the misery she saw there. But staying wouldn’t change it. They’d hash this argument out again, and again—and sooner or later, she’d walk out just the same.

She left the room. Her steps came faster as she traveled down the hallway, looking for the front door. When she reached it, she left the hospital at a run and kept going.