United [A Superhero AU] - Book Two

Chapter Sixty - Special Therapy

They get back to the hero's base and Felix takes Jack from Mark's arms, refusing the American's insistence on keeping the villain against his chest. While the Swede lies Jack down in the spare room, Phil sits Mark on the couch and goes to do a checkup on Jack. The rebels sit at the dining room table and speak softly to each other while Mark threads his fingers through his hair and bites his lip.

Sitting and stewing in his thoughts does nothing for Mark's mental wellbeing. His muscles refuse to unclench and every little sound becomes more and more irritating as the minutes pass, and when Phil comes back he lets himself break.

"How the HELL did Anti get out? How is he still here!? We closed off his passage!" Mark demands, finally loosening his grip on his abused hair.

Phil exhales heavily. "I did a full checkup on him. From what I can tell, his accelerated immune system fought off the antiseptic to the point where it's not even there anymore. I mean, that eye isn't even blind anymore, but it is infected."

Mark stares at him before burying his face in his hands. Felix sits down on the couch beside him and pats his back gently, eyeing Phil the entire time.

"Do you have a way to fix it for good this time?" Mark asks, his voice strained.

"I can do a surgery on his eye to inject the antiseptic into the muscle around his optic nerve. Then I can use my healing to completely close off Anti's window and get rid of the infection. It's going to be really painful for Jack, though, and it's dangerous if Anti gets out during the surgery," Phil replies.  "There's also the possibility that Jack could lose his vision in that eye permanently, but it's not certain."

"I'll talk to Jack about it when he wakes up." Mark sighs and rubs his eyes, suddenly feeling very, very tired. "I'm gonna go check on him. I suggest that the rest of you stay back. I don't want him to panic worse."

The hero stands up from the couch, grabbing Jack's spare eyepatch from their bedroom before moving to the spare room. The Irishman lies on the couch, completely unconscious, and Mark takes this opportunity to tie the eyepatch over his eye. His heart breaks at the small stab of fear that passes through him, and he does his best to shove it away. He's not afraid of Jack. He's afraid of the monster that consumes him.

Jack stirs, his fingers clenching and unclenching, before his visible crystalline-blue eye cracks open. It takes a second, but as soon as he registers where he is he's bolting upright and curling in on himself. Every breath is shaky and panicked as he shrinks away from Mark, tears welling in his visible eye. Mark instantly feels like he's been hit in the heart by a semi-truck.

"Jack..." he begins, reaching out his hand. The villain flinches and Mark retracts his gesture, trying his hardest not to burst into tears himself. "Jack, it's okay. You're safe."

"No, no, I'm not, you're not safe, Mark, I don't want to hurt you," Jack pleads, burying his face in his knees. "Please, I don't want to hurt you. I've n-never wanted to hurt you..."

"I'm fine, Jack. I am. Be careful, okay? Felix clubbed you pretty hard."

"Oh my God, Anti was let out. Oh my God. How many people are dead? I'm so sorry, Mark, I'm so sorry," Jack babbles, barely listening to Mark's words. "I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want this—"

"Jack." Mark reaches out again and, against his better judgement, rests his hand on the villain's bicep. Jack tenses, curling up even tighter and making it look like he's trying to disappear into the cushions. "Nobody is dead. And yes, Anti got out, but we have it under control. Phil is going to help you. You didn't hurt any of us."