Chapter Text
POV Amy.
The last thing Amy remembered before waking from her coma was shielding Vicky from a hail of bullets during the clash with the ABB in the Reona Mall—against Lung, of all people.
Her return to consciousness was met with a strange outpouring of attention. Heroes, Wards, nurses, even her mom had stopped by to see her. Carol seemed genuinely happy, which Amy found odd considering their strained relationship.
Her dad, Mark, was ever-present, hovering nearby with a quiet, melancholy air. Despite his bouts of depression, his love and care were unmistakable. The nurses, in their effort to comfort her, made sure she had plenty of chocolate pudding.
Her own recovery had been thanks to Master and Bait, apparently. Vicky admitted they’d used a cookie—similar to the one that had healed a Case 53—to heal her.
But it wasn’t all peaceful. The fragile calm was shattered when Victoria burst into a fiery argument with the PRT officers attempting to escort her out of the room and back home.
Vicky refused to explain why she was under house arrest, and the shame in her eyes told Amy there was more to the story.
So much had changed during Amy’s two-month coma.
Lung was killed by Master and Bait, the ABB were gone.
Kaiser had been killed by Master and Bait, shattering the Empire 88’s iron grip on the city.
Eidolon had fallen to those same two, and the Endbringers—once unstoppable forces of destruction—were now inexplicably comatose.
Amy’s mind reeled as she tried to piece it all together. Were those two killing everyone?
Amy’s thoughts were interrupted when Clockblocker appeared at her door, his body tense with a mixture of hope and hesitation.
“Hey, Amy,” he said cautiously. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but… could you heal my dad? He has cancer.”
Amy pushed herself up, her legs unsteady as she nearly stumbled. “Of course I’ll help,” she said, her voice firm despite her weakened state.
Mark stepped forward, concern etched on his face. “Sweetie, are you sure? You’ve been in a coma for two months. You need to rest.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she insisted.
Clockblocker’s expression softened in gratitude. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Amy—Panacea, the city’s greatest healer—didn’t stop at helping Clockblocker’s father. She began working tirelessly, moving from patient to patient.
It wasn’t long before Mark had to step in, forcing her to rest before she collapsed.
Despite her efforts, guilt gnawed at Amy’s heart. How many people had died while she lay unconscious, unable to do anything?
She couldn’t stop asking herself. How many lives could I have saved?
----
Amy stepped into the house, the familiar creak of the door grounding her after the days spent at the hospital. It felt strange to be home again after everything, but comforting in a way she couldn’t quite put into words.
Victoria was waiting for her in the living room and came to her and gave her a hug.
“Amy, you’re home,” Victoria said, her voice trembling as if she were on the verge of tears.
The familiar aura of Victoria’s washed over her almost instantly, like stepping into a ray of sunlight. It was warm, comforting, and so undeniably Vicky. It made Amy feel lighter, as if for a brief moment, all the heaviness of the past months had been lifted.
“You’re glowing,” Amy said with a small smile.
Victoria gave a laugh, brushing her hair back. “Yeah, well, maybe you’re just finally appreciating my radiance.”
The two sisters slipped into easy conversation, their usual rhythm slowly returning. They talked about clothes—Victoria excitedly described a new dress she’d been eyeing, and Amy teased her about her ever-growing wardrobe.
“I swear, Vicky, you’re going to need an entirely separate closet soon.”
“Or maybe I’ll just borrow yours,” Victoria quipped. “You do still have that cute sweater, right?”
Amy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “It’s practically yours at this point.”
As the conversation shifted, Victoria leaned forward, her tone softening. “So… are you ready to go back to school when it opens in September? It’s not that far off.”
Amy groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Don’t remind me. I have so much homework to catch up on. It’s like they think being in a coma is no excuse for slacking.”
Victoria laughed, her aura practically shimmering with the sound. “You’ll be fine, Ames. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. And hey, if you need help, you’ve got me.”
Amy glanced at her, a quiet gratitude shining in her eyes. “Thanks, Vicky.”
That night, after everyone had gone to bed, she slipped out of the house. Quiet as a shadow, she made her way to the hospital.
Panacea worked from patient to patient. Healing burns, mending broken bones, reversing conditions that had seemed irreversible. She avoided the nurses and doctors, working in silence, leaving behind only whispered gratitude and astonished murmurs when patients found themselves inexplicably whole.
By the time she returned home, dawn was just beginning to creep across the sky. Exhausted but feeling a sliver of peace, she tiptoed back to her room, washed up, and joined her family for breakfast.
The kitchen was warm with the scent of coffee and toast. Her dad sat quietly reading the paper, and her mom was scrolling through her phone. Victoria was already at the table, her radiant aura lighting up the room as she cheerfully greeted Amy.
The moment was interrupted by a knock at the door. Victoria practically jumped from her chair, her excitement palpable. “That’s Dean!” she said with a bright smile, rushing to answer.
Amy’s stomach twisted.
Dean walked in with his ever-perfect smile, exchanging warm greetings with everyone. Victoria beamed, practically glowing in his presence. They talked like they shared secrets. It hit her all at once—while she was gone, they were together.
Jealousy surged, sharp and bitter, as she sat silently at the table, picking at her food. Victoria’s laughter felt too loud, Dean’s smile too perfect. Every glance they exchanged felt like a knife twisting deeper into her heart.
Amy finished her breakfast quickly, excusing herself before anyone could notice the tension in her voice. She retreated to her room, shutting the door and leaning against it, her chest tight with frustration and pain.
Later in the afternoon, as she struggled to catch up on her homework, Victoria burst into her room, a wide grin on her face.
“Look what Dean got me!” she said, holding up a delicate golden ring.
Amy froze, her gaze locked on the shining band as Victoria continued to gush. “Isn’t it beautiful? He’s so thoughtful. He said it reminded him of me.”
Jealousy turned into something darker, heavier, and all-consuming. Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms. The ring was too close to an engagement ring. The thought of Dean stealing Victoria—her Vicky—made her stomach churn with anger.
Victoria, oblivious to Amy’s inner turmoil, twirled the ring around her finger with a dreamy smile. “Oh, by the way,” she added, “there’s going to be a party this weekend. I invited everyone over to our house. It’ll be fun!”
Amy groaned, the sound low and filled with pain, unable to muster a response.
Victoria laughed lightly, misreading her sister’s reaction. “Come on, Ames, it’ll be good for you to hang out with everyone again.”
But as Victoria left the room, Amy sat frozen, her thoughts a tangled mess of jealousy and anger. The golden ring glinted in her mind like an accusation, and all she could do was wrestle with the consuming storm inside her.
----
The weekend arrived too fast.
The party was in full swing by the time Amy reluctantly made her way downstairs. The house was alive with the chatter and laughter of Victoria’s classmates, their energy filling every corner of the space. Music played in the background, slightly too loud for comfort, and the smell of snacks and sugary punch lingered in the air.
Dennis, as expected, was in his element. He hopped from group to group, cracking jokes and pulling harmless pranks that left people groaning or laughing in equal measure. At one point, he stuck a fake spider on someone’s shoulder, earning a scream that sent him into a fit of laughter.
Dean, ever the gentleman, navigated the chaos with ease. He smiled and greeted everyone with warmth, his charisma drawing people toward him effortlessly. As much as Amy tried to ignore him, it was impossible not to notice how perfect he seemed.
Carlos, true to his reputation, was near the center of the room, spinning an exaggerated tale of some reckless stunt he’d pulled during training. His animated gestures and fearless grin had his audience captivated.
Sarah, the group’s unofficial social butterfly, moved about the room with ease, chatting with anyone and everyone. Her voice carried over the music, a constant stream of conversation that kept people engaged.
Heather, on the other hand, was perched on the couch, her dark eyeliner and aloof expression giving her an air of disinterest. She sipped her drink quietly, throwing the occasional cutting comment that made her small circle of friends laugh.
Amy, however, couldn’t bring herself to enjoy any of it. She stuck to the edges of the room, her discomfort growing with every passing minute. The punch bowl was definitely spiked—she could see a few classmates laughing a little too loudly, their faces flushed.
She was debating whether to slip back upstairs when Dean appeared beside her.
“Hey, Amy,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise. “You okay? You’ve been keeping to yourself all day.”
Amy turned to him, her chest tightening. His concern only fueled her irritation. He’s perfect, of course he is, she thought bitterly. Perfect enough to steal Vicky away.
“I’m fine,” she said curtly, folding her arms across her chest.
Dean didn’t back off. “You don’t seem fine,” he said gently. “If something’s bothering you, I’m here to listen.”
He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, the warmth of his touch both soothing and infuriating.
“Amy,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern.
But Amy wasn’t listening. Her eyes locked on his hand, on that damned ring. The sight of it felt like a knife twisting in her chest. The thought of Victoria and Dean together, their perfect harmony, their matching rings—it was too much.
“Don’t,” she whispered, trying to move his hand off her shoulder.
Dean didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. His steady presence, his infuriating patience, only fueled her spiraling emotions.
Through that brief touch, she saw it—Dean's entire biology laid bare to her mind. Every cell, every perfect rhythm of his heart. It was flawless, strong, steady. So unlike her own heart that was broken into millions of pieces.
Before Amy could think, before she could stop herself, her power activated.
The steady rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat faltered, then stopped.
Dean’s eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back, his hand clutching at his chest. His breath caught, and then he slumped to the floor, motionless.
Amy froze, her hand trembling as she stared at him. Relief washed over her like a twisted balm. The storm inside her quieted, replaced by a horrible, hollow satisfaction. He’s gone, a dark part of her whispered. Dean can’t take Victoria from me now.
But then the enormity of what she’d done hit her.
“Dean!!!” Victoria screamed.