Firebug: Ch. 25 - A Helping Hand

"Bello, are you sure about this?"

"Absolutely not... but what other choice do we have?"

Roman looked over his shoulder for the umpteenth time, searching for an opportunity to run. As badly as he wanted to rabbit, though, he let Theo drag him further up that grimy, rat-infested stairwell. As usual, Theo was right: this was their best shot to finally get things back on track. Back to the way they were supposed to be.

It had been two weeks since they confirmed he was an Elemental. Fourteen days since he and Theo had had a decent, meaningful conversation. Three hundred and thirty-six long, agonizing hours since Theo hadn't flinched at his touch.

Theo was a wonderful partner - better than Roman deserved - but this little beauty threw one hell of a monkey wrench into their relationship. He tried to be supportive, of course. Hell, it was his idea to even come all the way across town to this fleabag tenement building. All in the name of trying to help Roman. Despite it all, Roman knew the truth. It was as plain as the nose on Theo's freckly face.

He was scared stiff of Roman... and he wasn't the only one.

Since that night, Roman hadn't slept a wink. He was terrified he'd rip the pipes out of the wall in his sleep, and wake up neck deep in water. Every creak, groan, and gurgle from the freshly refurbished plumbing at school sent him spiraling into a panic attack. He was irritable, couldn't focus on anything to save his life, and quicker to anger than ever before. His grades were slipping; he was absolutely useless as a quarterback, editor, and a student body president; and he was facing the very real risk of losing the only person he truly ever loved.

That's why Roman couldn't run. If their relationship stood any chance of getting off life support, this was it. Theo was the best thing that had ever happened to Roman, and Roman was willing to do anything to keep him. Even coming to a place like this in the dead of night.

The moldy carpet squished under his sneakers as he followed Theo down the ninth floor's dark, dingy hallway. The flickering yellow lights did a poor job illuminating the numbers on each door, making them all but impossible to read. Some doors didn't have numbers at all; they'd fallen off completely, leaving rusty outlines on the dinged-up metal doors they'd once belonged to. Theo, however, knew exactly where he was going.

With confidence Roman had never seen in him before, Theo forged ahead at a steady pace. Only pausing now and then to scan a door and compare it to the crinkled up paper in his fist. Roman realized a few minutes later that his boyfriend was shaking, only because he could hear the paper rustling. Instinctively, Roman reached for Theo's hand, planning to still the tremors in it with a gentle squeeze. His fingertips barely brushed Theo's knuckles, though, when Theo nearly came out of his sneakers and pulled away with a nervous squeak.

"Sorry," Theo murmured, and it definitely sounded like he meant it. In the same breath, he stuffed his wrinkly paper scrap in his coat pocket, nodding at the door to his right.

"This is it: Apartment 9F."

For a minute or two, Theo just stood staring at the door, fidgeting in place. All the confidence he had before seemed gone with the wind, like he hadn't thought this far ahead. Eventually, he turned sheepishly to Roman.

"Should we... knock?"

No; knocking was a bad idea. The smart thing to do would be to get the hell out of there before they caught hepatitis. They hadn't told anyone they were coming there, so Roman had no guarantee whatsoever that 9F's occupant would even answer a knock. If she did, she'd probably just turn them away, or call the cops to chase them off.

On the other hand, they came there for answers. Answers they couldn't get anywhere else. It wouldn't hurt to try... for Theo's sake.

Holding his breath, Roman stepped up to the plate on his own. Although he regretted it instantly, his knuckles rapped against the door sharply: once. Twice. Three times, in quick succession. For a long, tense minute, there was no answer. No voice calling out. No feet shuffling across the floor beyond. She might've been sleeping, or maybe she wasn't home at all.

Right about the time Roman felt like the biggest idiot in the world, on the cusp of suggesting they leave and come back another time, he finally did hear something. It was the crisp, quiet rattling of a latch; metal sliding across metal. He looked down instinctively, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, at a shadow moving under the door. The shadow of a person.

"Who is it?" a gruff, older female voice barked through the closed door, "What do you want?"

Roman followed the familiar voice upward with a dry gulp, drawn to the peep hole in the door. She had to be right behind it, studying him through the tiny glass lens. Roman was still trying to find the right words - a task that was much harder than he bargained for - when Theo suddenly moved in front of him.

"Birdie-... I-I mean, Ms. Flanagan, it's me," he stammered, "Th-Theo Quill. I... W-We need your help. Please."

Soft clattering filled the air a second later, all coming from the other side of the door. A deadbolt sliding. Then another, and several more after that in quick procession. Roman counted almost a dozen before the door finally creaked open. Even then, she kept the chain locked in place, scowling at them through the gap.

"You kids got any idea what time it is?!" the old nurse hissed, "Don't you got school or somethin' in the morning?!"

"Yes," Theo admitted shyly, "...but we need you! Please, we've got nowhere else to turn to."

"If it's an emergency, I suggest you try the hospital," Nurse Flanagan muttered dryly, "I'm off duty 'til eight a.m."

She tried to close the door, but Roman slid his foot forward to block it. He didn't expect it to hurt as much as it did, biting back a grunt as his big toe was crushed. Still, he held his ground and powered through it. In the time it took for him to center himself, he noticed a glass of water in her hand.

Thinking actions would speak louder than words, Roman extended his fingers toward the glass. Just like with the water bottle that night, he focused all his energy and thoughts on it. Hoping it would do the same as before. Last time, though, he didn't have an old lady trying to turn his foot into a pancake with a heavy metal door.

"Get the hell outta here already!" Nurse Flanagan demanded, "What's wrong with you kids?! Just leave me in alone, or else I'll break out my .38!"

Roman was trying harder than ever, but the water in her glass refused to budge. And the pain in his foot was only getting worse. As his growing frustration and anger reached a fever pitch, Roman slowly became aware that her water glass had frosted over. Before he even had the chance to stop it, the glass exploded in her hand. The nurse immediately jumped back in shock, her green eyes wide and fixed on the carpet in disbelief. Among the fragments of broken glass was a chunk of ice, frozen in the shape of the cup that once held it.

By the time her steely eyes moved up to Roman's face, he wasn't feeling good at all. He noticed that when he'd used his abilities deliberately before: the headaches, dizziness, mild nausea. All things he could live with. What worried him, however, was that these side effects seemed to be getting worse every time. He was so busy trying not to puke, it took him a second to realize Nurse Flanagan's door was wide open.

"Get in," she ordered, "now."

The next thing Roman knew, he was lying on a couch. Nurse Flanagan was in the easy chair across from him, partially blocked from his view by two mugs on the coffee table between them. Cocoa, unless his nose was wrong. She held a third between her own bony hands, taking a deep sip from it before speaking.

"So... when did it start?" she asked, her green eyes fixed curiously on Roman.

"I, erm... n-not quite sure," Theo's voice answered, "Last month is our best guess, a few weeks before the dance. We just weren't aware of his abilities until now."

It sounded like he was above Roman, and after a few seconds Roman figured out why. The pillow under his cheek was sizzling hot, and shaped like a lap. The biggest clue he got, though, were the fingers running nervously through his hair.

"Late bloomer," Nurse Flanagan nodded, sipping her cocoa pensively, "Not unheard of, especially for Hydros. Have the aftershocks always been this bad?"

Roman sat up with a low groan, scratching his throbbing scalp. "I can handle it," he insisted, "...mostly. All I want to know is how do I, y'know, turn it off when it starts?"

"You don't," the nurse said flatly. "All you can do is hang on for dear life and ride it out... kinda like a tsunami. Still, I'd avoid known triggers if you can, as well as large bodies of water. Just in case."

She pulled a tissue from the box on the table, offering it to Roman with a sharp flick of her wrist. He just stared at it like a dummy - confused - until Theo took the tissue for him. Only after Theo dabbed the quarterback's upper lip did Roman realize his nose was bleeding. Again.

"Crap," he muttered, taking the tissue from Theo, "I hate nosebleeds. Haven't gotten this many since I was a little kid. Is that... normal?"

"Normal is just a setting on a washing machine," Nurse Flanagan said, "Personally, I haven't known 'normal' since Reagan was in office. Still, if you're worried, I guess I can give you a solid once-over."

"No, that's-"

"Thank you," Theo interrupted, squeezing Roman's elbow to quiet him, "we'd appreciate that."

Roman was not in the mood for an impromptu check-up, but he didn't complain. This was the most physical contact he'd had with Theo in days. Feeling that loving, hot hand on his arm was worth a thousand check-ups, and then some. Before he lost his nerve, Roman gingerly laid his hand on top of Theo's. Theo flinched again - hard - but to Roman's relief he didn't pull away this time.

Not much of an improvement, granted, but progress was progress.

Flanagan had a full workup done on him within half an hour. She was shockingly thorough, doing everything short of drawing blood and forcing him to turn his head and cough. The final step of the exam was not exactly standard, however. At least, it wasn't part of any physical Roman had had before. She pulled a small wooden chest out of the coat closet, took something out of it, then slapped that something into his palm. When Roman uncurled his fingers, he found himself holding a walnut-sized, polished black stone.

"Squeeze it," the nurse ordered, "...and don't let go until I say so."

Although he felt sorta silly, Roman did as Nurse Flanagan asked. He didn't expect much - or anything - to happen, but the cool stone immediately glowed with heat in his grip. In a heartbeat, Roman's entire body surged with a strange energy. Every hair stood up like wire; every muscle fiber crackled with electricity; his heart was beating so fast, he though it would explode. Roman feared he was going to die, or at the very least pass out. Before he did either, Nurse Flanagan wrenched the stone out of his grip without warning.

It took a second or two for Roman to come back down to earth after that, unable to breathe or stop shaking. When his blurry vision cleared again, Nurse Flanagan was leaning forward in her chair: skeletal fingers knitted tight together; wrinkled lips pursed in a scowl. She was staring at an object on the coffee table. The stone she'd just taken from Roman. Instead of black, though, the little lump of rock was now bright blue with a brilliant streak of white running through it. The longer Roman stared at it, the more he was sure that the colors were actively swirling across its surface; bleeding into one another before separating again suddenly, like blobs of wax in a lava lamp. And - just like a lava lamp - the stone was glowing.

"What does that mean?" Theo murmured, breaking the long-standing silence between them.

Nurse Flanagan sat back with a sigh, running a hand through her tangle of faded red curls, shaking her head afterwards.

"It means we're in deep shit, Kid."