[A/N]: New week, new grind! Let's set our goal at 200 Power Stones for the next bonus chapter. Let's make it happen! đȘ
Morning light filtered through the window, warm and golden, pulling Domino from the sweetest sleep she'd had in months. Her body felt loose and content in a way she'd almost forgotten was possible.
The sheets smelled like soap and something uniquely Jay. For a moment, she let herself pretend this was normal, that waking up beside him was something she got to do every day instead of a miracle she'd stumbled into after months of self-imposed exile.
When she turned over, she was surprised to see Jay still there, his light brown skin gleaming in the sunlight. His face was peaceful, younger somehow, with that innocent smile playing at his lips like he was having the best dream of his life.
She'd forgotten how young he looked when he slept, how the constant weight of responsibility melted away. Twenty-five years old and carrying the world on his shoulders, but right now he looked like any other guy who'd gotten lucky on New Year's Eve.
Her fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to confirm he was real and here.
She stared at his sleeping face. "He turned twenty-five and I wasn't even there." The regret tasted bitter.
Then it all hit her at once.
The guilt crashed over her first. Four months. She'd abandoned him for four months after he'd nearly died trying to help his friends, and she'd convinced herself it was for his own good. What kind of person did that make her?
The memories followed. That night when everything went to hell. Jay going under the enhancement procedure despite knowing the risks. The attacks from Abomination and Doom, one right after another. When she'd tried to throw herself between the cosmic ray blast and Jay, her damn powers had cracked the floor beneath her feet, making her fall three stories down. The irony wasn't lost on her. Her luck had saved her instead of him, exactly when she needed it to fail.
She remembered clawing her way back up through the building, her hands bloody from gripping broken concrete and twisted metal. Every curse word she'd ever learned had poured out like a prayer, anything to distract from the terror eating her alive.
But when she'd seen Jay bleeding from that wound in his stomach, that twisted piece of metal piercing right through him, she'd lost every shred of composure she'd ever possessed.
She could still feel the slickness of his blood on her hands. Still smell the copper tang of it mixing with smoke and ozone.
She'd begged him to wake up, shaken him, screamed at him. When nothing worked, she'd tried to control her powers the way Jay controlled his so flawlessly. For the first time in her life, she'd wanted her abilities to actually listen to her instead of doing their own chaotic thing. Jay made his powers look so easy, controlled like breathing. She'd concentrated until her skull felt like it might crack, begging her luck to work just once the way she needed it to. But nothing. Just that same chaotic, self-serving luck that only gave a damn about keeping her alive.
Her powers had always been a wild card. The one time she'd needed surgical precision, they'd left her hanging.
So she'd tried the next best thing. If her damn powers only worked to protect her from mortal danger, then she'd create that danger herself. The logic had been crystal clear in her panicked mind: hurt herself, trigger her abilities, maybe create enough chaos to somehow help him.
She'd grabbed a sharp piece of metal debris, aimed it at her own throat. If stabbing herself could give even a sliver of a chance to help Jay, she'd do it gladly.
But that damn Captain America had stopped her.
She could still feel his grip on her wrist, gentle but immovable. The disappointment in his eyes had cut deeper than any blade could have. Here was America's golden boy looking at her like she was a broken thing that needed fixing, and the worst part was knowing he was right.
She'd cried and begged Steve to let go, but he wouldn't. The words she'd screamed at him still made her cringe. Calling him every name she could think of, accusing him of letting Jay die, threatening to hurt him if he didn't release her. She knew cursing him was wrong since he was just protecting her from herself, but the alternative was accepting that she was completely powerless to save the person who mattered most.
And Domino had never handled powerlessness well.
After all her life, after all her losses, she'd learned to be alone, to be free from all connections and responsibilities. But just months with Jay had changed her in ways she couldn't even imagine.
The man who'd throw himself between bullets and children without hesitation. Who'd created an entire secret identity just because he was too stubborn to admit he had a hero complex. Who'd risk experimental surgery to get stronger, to protect others and ensure a friend's happiness, even when that friend had told him it wasn't necessary.
Honestly, after that, everything became a blur. The world turned into a mess of voices and accusations, of Doom's broadcast revealing secrets she'd helped Jay keep, of watching the people he'd sacrificed for turn on him like rabid dogs. She did remember calling Bobby with shaking hands, barely able to form words through her tears, knowing Jay would need someone who understood what real loyalty looked like.
Later, when Jay was leaving after healing Ben and Hank, she'd seen something on the floor. A bloody quarter. She'd stared at it for a long time, this twenty-five-cent piece of metal that had done what she couldn't. Protect him when it mattered most.
Then, at the back of the Baxter Building, when Jay had asked her what was wrong with those tired, hurt eyes, she'd panicked. The words had spilled out before she could stop them, driven by the terror still coursing through her veins from watching him nearly die.
She'd seen what loving Jay meant. Watching him throw himself into danger, always putting himself in harm's way. She'd realized with crushing clarity that being with him meant living in constant fear of losing him, of watching him bleed out while her useless powers protected only herself.
And Domino? She'd already lost everyone she'd ever loved. Her parents. Her team. Everyone she'd let get close had been ripped away violently, and she'd survived by building walls, by never caring enough to be destroyed again.
But Jay had slipped past every defense she'd ever constructed.
In that moment, with her emotions running higher than her common sense and the image of him dying still burned into her retinas, walking away had seemed like the only way to survive. Because if she stayed and something happened to him, when something happened to him, it would destroy her completely. She'd barely survived her family's deaths. Losing Jay would break something in her that could never be fixed.
She'd convinced herself it was mercy for both of them. He wouldn't have to worry about her getting caught in the crossfire of his heroics, and she wouldn't have to live with the constant terror of watching the man she loved sacrifice himself for strangers. It was the coward's way out.
The look on his face when she'd handed him that quarter and said goodbye still haunted her dreams. Like she'd shot him in the chest and walked away while he bled. Because that's exactly what she'd done, wasn't it?
In a blur, she'd found herself in a bar with Wade and the rest of the crew, drowning her sorrows while watching TV news of Vice President Rodriguez announcing plans for District X to integrate the Morlocks with humans. Even hammered on cheap whiskey, she'd known it had Jay written all over it. She just couldn't understand how a man who'd been criticized and accused by the very mutants and X-Men who'd never done half as much for their own people could keep giving and giving. But she'd realized she'd lost her right to be angry on Jay's behalf when she'd walked away instead of standing beside him.
To clear her head, she and the mercs had taken a job in Japan hunting some killer monkey, trying to get away from everything that reminded her of Jay.
Spoiler alert: you can't outrun your own heart. Who knew?
But running from Jay was like trying to outrun her own shadow. Every mission briefing where someone mentioned healing powers, every news report about mysterious good deeds across the country, every damn quarter she saw on the street brought him rushing back. Wade's constant commentary about "the good doctor" hadn't helped either, especially when she caught him looking at her with pity.
Pity. From Wade Wilson. That's how she knew she'd hit rock bottom.
After a month on assignment, she'd tried to let go and move on. They'd even gotten a new member, Hit-Monkey, who was better with guns than Masacre and Gorilla Man combined. The little furry assassin had fit in perfectly with their band of misfits, and his presence had been a welcome distraction from the Jay-shaped hole in her chest.
But then she'd seen him in Akihabara, carrying crazy amounts of manga and DVDs, laughing with such pure joy that it made her heart ache.
She'd been on a supply run when she'd spotted him across the crowded street. At first, she thought she was hallucinating. That the lack of sleep and excess of sake had finally caught up with her.
But no. It was him. Jay. In the flesh. In Tokyo. Carrying enough manga to stock a small library.
That smile. God, that smile. It was the same one from their movie nights, when he'd get so excited explaining plot holes or pointing out Easter eggs that he'd forget to be serious. For a split second, seeing him there surrounded by all that colorful Japanese pop culture, she'd thought maybe he was okay. Maybe he'd moved on and found happiness without her.
Maybe leaving him had been the right choice after all.
But when she'd gotten closer, she'd seen the truth hidden beneath that smile. The way it didn't quite reach his eyes. The slight slump to his shoulders when he thought no one was looking. The forced quality to his enthusiasm, like he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else that he was having fun.
That smile was trying so hard to suppress sorrow rather than express joy. She'd reached out her hand to approach him, then pulled it back and walked away as fast as she could, tears forming in her eyes.
Because what right did she have to comfort him? She'd been the one to leave him bleeding emotionally in that alley. She'd made her choice, and now she had to live with watching him try to piece himself back together from a distance.
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