Calling Cardinal

Destiny

"Where have you been?" Ivy demands. "You've been gone for hours and," her nose curls. "You stink."

I shut the door behind me. "I was at Caine Chemicals—"

"Doing what?"

"You're not my keeper, alright?" I shrug off her touch. As with most things these days, I immediately regret it. "My ex was in that explosion. I wanted to make sure he got out okay."

"Oh." She softens. "Did he?"

"He's alive, at least. We'll see about the rest of him."

Ivy hustles to the kitchen. "Let's get you warmed up. I prepared some chamomile tea, just in case you made it back."

I take the warm mug in my palms. "Thanks, Ivy. Has he woken up, yet?"

"No. I gave him more of that antibiotic an hour ago."

After sipping on the tea, I step out to gather more firewood and hopefully get some electricity going. In the Gotham winter, a cold shower sounds like torture.

I return to the section of the wilderness I was before, where my voice decimated yards of wildlife and trees. I chop up the fallen trees and give the wood to Ivy. Upon investigating the electrical breaker around the side of the manor, I find that it's been switched off. Someone left with the intention of returning.

I hope for their sake that they decided on an extended vacation. The electricity returns to the house with a flick of a switch. Feeling slightly accomplished at my tasks, I finally allow myself to have a nice, warm shower.

It's here that I release four days worth of sorrow and stress. My entire body shakes with vicious sobs. Whatever soul I possess becomes twisted in my chest with each outcry. I weep for Oswald's condition, Harvey's condition and my own; all three are my own fault, of course. Most painful things are, I'm finding. I create things that hurt me.

My knees buckle under me. I collide with the bottom of the tub, cracking the exterior. The acid wound on my thigh stings under the hot water, as does the rest of my scars and bruises. I pull my knees to my chest, letting the water blanket my back in steamy streams of purifying silver.

"Uh, Sera?" Ivy peeks in through the door.

I hardly open my eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

For the first time, I answer honestly. "No, Ivy. No, I'm not okay."

"I found some dry clothes in the master bedroom. I think they'll fit you."

My voice cracks. "Thanks."

Having no more tears left to cry, I finally face the cold, cruel world. I put on the warm, fuzzy pajamas set out by Ivy and join her in the den. The fire crackles and heats the house but it's not enough to warm my freezing bones. I pull an additional two blankets over my frame before finally settling on the couch next to my new housemate.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" I clear my throat, acting as though my face isn't red and puffy.

The ginger motions to the bathroom. "That little meltdown? I could hear you crying from the back of the greenhouse."

"Sorry," I say. "It's been a long week."

"I understand. Don't you have friends you can talk to? What about your brother?"

"I still have friends." I have Butch, Bullock, maybe Lee. Who knows where Freeze is? I don't dare call Barbara my friend. Loren's gone. Edward and I were once friends. He's probably in a hospital right now, thanks to me. If my old co-worker, Rachel is still alive, she probably hates me. Oswald might be dead, Harvey is crazy, and my brother has a city to save. "Well, I used to have more."