CHAPTER EIGHT
Deus Ex Machina

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            THE MONSTER CONTINUED ITS rampage through Venice, leaving nothing but carnage and destruction in its wake. Its frame was too bulky to fit through most of the narrow canals, especially given its impromptu growth spurt, so as it shouldered its way through, it left either cracks in the surrounding buildings or knocked them down entirely. This would have been something for Cecelia to worry about, but before she could, a very familiar figure in a plaid shirt and brown khakis swung between the buildings that were still falling. Trailing after him was a sticky cross-section of spider webs, which held the buildings in the air. It was obviously quite precarious, but it allowed the people who might have been crushed precious seconds to escape. Cecelia let out a sigh of relief.

Even with Peter's aid, though, she still had work to do. Some of the buildings had collapsed, and those were the ones she focused on. With prayers to Creator on her lips, she slipped through the rubble and searched for those who might be trapped. She ended up finding a few scared but uninjured school kids this way, who she quickly ushered outside. Then, with her mask still firmly on her face, she continued on to the next building.

Freeing civilians helped quiet the nasty voice inside Cecelia's head that berated her for not bringing her suit, but not entirely. You could've done more, it hissed, as she led a few stranded men back to safety. It's your fault that this happened at all, it snarled, when she stumbled upon a woman whose leg was completely pinned (she managed to get the woman's leg out, but it was bruised and bloody and she could barely walk on it. Cecelia had to help her limp all the way over to her husband, who took his wife in his arms and swept her away without so much as a 'thank you').

The voice was right, though. She might have been helping now, but she would've done so much more if she'd had her suit. With Howl in her ear, her boots jettisoning her through the city, and her stunners on her wrists, she might've actually stood a chance against the water monster. She wouldn't have been relegated to a fucking good Samaritan.

She didn't let herself cry, though, because she was on a mission. In every building she melted into (careful to do so in the shadows; her mask wasn't exactly the best disguise) she searched for her friends, her classmates, anyone she knew. Her worry about them was a physical thing, clawing its way up her chest. If any of them had gotten even a scratch...

Some people were thankful for Cecelia's aid; others were skeptical. Children and adults alike squeezed her into bone-cracking embraces that she didn't have the time for, while their friends curled their lips at her. You're just a kid, their stares said. What do you know about saving people? What, do you think you're some kind of superhero?

Cecelia ignored it all. She just kept on going, even when her nails broke and bled from the effort of holding up rubble, her calves burned, and sweat and dust ran down her face. But it ended up being a good thing that she did, because, after leading a toddler back to his mother, she heard it.

A familiar scream.

Christine.

Suddenly, Cecelia was running faster than she'd ever run before, because Christine was in trouble, Christine was in danger and Cecelia was the only one that could help her. And Cecelia would do whatever she could, because it was her fault that her friend had gotten into this mess in the first place.

It didn't take her long to find her. Cecelia turned a corner, the water up to her ankles (which was a significant improvement from the lake that the square had become), and almost tripped over Christine. She was lying on the ground, pale as a sheet, clutching her arm. Blood seeped between her fingers, thick and dark, and stained her once pristine crop top. The rest of her was covered in a fine coating of dust, and that, plus the chunks of debris that surrounded her, clued in Cecelia on what had happened.

"Chris!" Cecelia shouted, crouching down before her friend. "Holy shit, holy shit, are you—" she was just about to ask are you okay when she realized what a stupid question that was. "What happened?"

"Cee?" Christine blinked blearily, squinting up at her. "Is that you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me. Creator."

"I've been looking all over for you!" Christine tried to sit up, but the movement caused her to let out another strangled scream. "When Alex and I saw that—that thing in the water, we remembered that you would've been close to the docks and—oh, God, Cee. We didn't know what happened and we had to find you. Are you okay? Why are you wearing another carnival mask?"

Shit. Cecelia had forgotten about it. She tore it off her face, letting it skid into a puddle, because she couldn't be Phantom—or some lame, watered-down version of it—right now. Christine wasn't in active danger, but she was hurt, and she needed Cecelia.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Also, why the hell are you asking about me? I'm fine; Peter, MJ and I got out of there just in time. But what happened to you? And where's—" her voice caught, "—where's Alex?"

"I don't know. We got separated." Christine's words were strained, and Cecelia immediately jumped into action. She pulled off her purple sweatshirt and lifted Christine's hands from her arm, revealing the wound. There was what looked like a shard of metal sticking out of her skin, half-buried. The blood was oozing around it, so much that it made the world swoop under Cecelia's feet. But she had to stay focused.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "That's not good."

She was used to wounds like this on herself and on Peter—their patrols, while typically mild, could occasionally get quite nasty—but not on Christine. Not on her best friend, the girl she'd known since she was eleven years old, the girl who had offered to show Cecelia around their school when she was just the freak new kid. It wasn't right on her. Christine was meant to stay out of Cecelia's other life, not be a part of it.

But it seemed the two worlds had collided.

"That—that thing hit a building when I was running for higher ground," Christine said. "I tried to get out of the way, but I got hit. God, Cee—" She closed her eyes and let out a whimper, "—it really hurts."

"Okay. Okay, okay." Cecelia's hands hovered over the shard, unsure of whether or not to take it out. Leaving it in seemed like a smarter option—it was keeping most of the blood inside of Christine's body, after all—but it was also causing her friend immense pain.

Even so...

Cecelia wrapped the sleeves of her sweatshirt over the wound, ignoring the shard for now. She tied it in a loose bow that still made Christine cry out, then leaned back. Her hands were stained with blood.

"I'm gonna leave it in for now," she said. "You need—you need a trained professional to remove it. Taking it out would do more harm than good."

Christine closed her eyes. "O—okay," she whispered.

Cecelia looked down at her friend and shook, because this was all her fault. She'd gotten Christine hurt, really hurt, and she didn't even know where her brother was and oh, Creator, what if he was dead? A panic attack threatened, clawing its way into her throat, and it was only because of Christine that it didn't consume her. It got close, though.

She was just about to grab Christine's blood-slick hand, providing meaningless comforts until help arrived, when she heard it. A rumble that had now become familiar to her. The crash of waves.

The monster was coming back.

Green smoke above Cecelia's head indicated the return of the Enhanced, flying into what was meant to be an empty area with all of the poise of a real superhero. But the monster was quick to follow. It broke through one of the canals in an instant, spraying arcs of water everywhere. They landed with the force of tsunamis, cresting toward Cecelia and Christine.

Christine gasped. "Cee! What are we gonna do?"

The Enhanced began to fire at the monster again, seemingly unaware of the two girls huddled in the corner. With every strike the monster made, the water levels rose, and Cecelia could already feel the pushback. Fuck. Fuck.

"We have to get out of here!" Cecelia shouted. "Chris—I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to drag you."

Christine paled, if possible, even further, but seemed to realize that it was their only option. She pressed her lips together, resolute, and gave Cecelia a short nod. "Sorry if I pass out," she said.

Don't apologize, Cecelia thought. I don't deserve it.

She didn't say that out loud, though. Instead, she shifted around to Christine's other side and hooked her hands under her friend's armpits. "You ready?" she asked. Above their heads, the Enhanced was shoved into a clock tower.

Christine nodded again. "Do it," she said.

Cecelia heaved, pulling Christine backwards. At the first tug, Christine screamed, but it was quickly cut off as her eyes rolled back in her head. True to her word, she fell unconscious.

Cecelia's gut sank at that—this really couldn't be good—but she kept pulling. Christine slid back, leaving a bloody trail that turned the water pink. It was nearly up to Christine's nose, now, an indicator that they needed to reach higher ground fast.

But just as she was about to panic, the Enhanced finally seemed to spot them. They stiffened mid-air, suddenly all rigid shoulders, and only just managed to dodge another blow from the water monster. Then, looping around the monster's fist, they made a beeline over to them. With their cape flowing majestically behind them, they came to a crouching landing right in front of Cecelia.

Up close, they looked even more legitimate. The cape was kind of stupid—Edna Mode's rant from The Incredibles came to Cecelia's mind—but everything else, from their plated armour to their golden gauntlets to the domed helmet over their head made them look like a superhero. A real superhero. Not the one Cecelia was pretending to be.

"Oh, my God," they said, taking in the scene before them. It was a masculine voice that came from underneath the helmet, but Cecelia knew better than to assume gender identity just based on that. Perhaps they were using a voice-changer, just like Cecelia did. "I swear to God, I didn't know anyone else was still here—are you okay?"

"My friend needs help," Cecelia said, feeling strangely young and bare in front of the Enhanced. "She's—something's in her arm and—we need to get out of here!"

"Of course, of course." The Enhanced looked back toward the water monster. It seemed momentarily confused by their sudden disappearance, twisting around in angry circles. Apparently it didn't have the brain cells to have traced the Enhanced's flight. Which made sense, given the fact that there was no way it could have a brain. "I'll, uh, fly you two up. But I'll have to go one at a time, and super fast. Is that okay?"

"Yes! Just take her first!" Cecelia practically shoved Christine's limp form into the Enhanced's arms. Christine was beginning to stir, her eyelids flickering, but not fast enough. "Please!"

"Okay, okay." The Enhanced gathered Christine up in their arms. "I'll be back in a jiff," they said. Then took off.

The monster still seemed confused, but Cecelia scrabbled back before it could spot her. The water was still rising, creeping up her legs. She tried to take in deep breaths, even as the whole world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Your fault your fault your fault your fault your fault—

The Enhanced returned as quickly as they left. "Okay, okay, I'm back. Your friend is safe. You're all gonna be fine. I'm gonna take care of this thing."

"Okay," Cecelia said. Then, without warning, a gloved hand latched onto each of her arms and pulled her into the sky.

She had to do everything in her power not to turn intangible, because she was full-on freaking out but didn't want to be a pancake in the middle of the square. For most people, holding all of their molecules together would've been second nature—most people were incapable of doing literally anything else—but Cecelia had the misfortune of not being most people. So she pinched her arm hard enough to hurt in order to keep focus before the Enhanced deposited her on a rooftop.

Christine was there, awake, and scrabbled backward when she saw the Enhanced and Cecelia arrive. "Wha—what?" she breathed, apparently hazy.

Cecelia dropped down beside her. "It's okay," she said. "We're okay. It's okay."

"You should be safe here," the Enhanced said. "I'm not going to let that thing near you. In fact—" they tilted their head, and Cecelia imagined a smirk beneath their helmet, "—I'm going to get rid of it right now. Once and for all."

And with that and a salute, they leaped off the edge of the building and back into combat.

"Holy... crap..." Christine muttered. Her eyelids were drooping again.

Cecelia fumbled for her hand. "I'm not leaving you," she said. "I'm not leaving you, okay?"

"All right," Christine replied.

Down below, the Enhanced was twisting their arms. A tornado of green smoke formed around them, and two more triangles appeared—one by their closed fist, and another by the water monster's head. Green smoke spiralled out of the latter, then began to seep into the monster's body. It held on like a rope, and the monster roared, writhing. It did nothing. The Enhanced spread their arms apart, and the green smoke pulled, cutting the monster's arms off in an instant.

The arms grew back just as fast, but as it lunged again, the Enhanced held it off. More green smoke emerged from their palms, spreading into the monster's middle. And this time, when the Enhanced pulled, the monster split in two.

It was another explosion of water, but this one was far gentler. It fell to the ground like rain, though some went veered far enough to freckle Cecelia's cheeks. Rainbows danced within the droplets, and for a moment, it was almost beautiful. But that was if, and only if, you forgot about the carnage that had just been wrought.

One fact remained, though: the monster was gone.

Overwhelming relief overtook Cecelia, but it was followed by even stronger guilt. She hadn't done anything, really. She'd been unprepared, and might've actually died if not for the Enhanced that had literally come out of nowhere to save her. Like a Deus Ex Machina in real life.

Some goddamned hero she was.

NOW THAT THE MONSTER had been slain—like a real fable, Cecelia thought—the emergency response teams were finally able to crawl out of whatever hidey-hole they'd shoved themselves into during the battle. They spread throughout the city like weeds, sniffing out those who were hurt or trapped and bringing them into their care. Fortunately, it didn't take them very long to find Cecelia and Christine. Which was good, because Christine was awake but woozy, and Cecelia was desperately afraid for her. She hadn't been able to stop crying since the Enhanced had taken out the monster, and the world was now a blurred watercolour painting.

She and Christine were split up—Christine was wheeled into an ambulance, and Cecelia was given a basic check-up to make sure she hadn't been injured herself. When it was discerned that she hadn't—she was just soaked in a lot of water—they discharged her with strict instructions to go home and take a shower. Apparently, there was a lot of bacteria crawling around in Venice's canals, and a lot of them would make her sick if unattended.

Honestly, Cecelia didn't give a shit.

People had really thought that she could be the next Iron Man. Her, the massive screw-up. The girl who didn't bring her suit with her to a foreign continent because she wanted to go on a fucking vacation. Well, news flash. Superheroes couldn't just take vacations.

If Mr. Stark had been here, he would've found time to both take the water monster down (without nearly the amount of destruction as what had occurred today) and shoot several admittedly funny quips. He wouldn't have let his best friend get hurt. He wouldn't have had to stay on the sidelines while a stranger fought the battle for him. He would've been prepared, because he was Mr. Stark. He was irreplaceable. There could never be anyone like him—and, even if there was, it wouldn't be Cecelia.

This knowledge thudded inside her chest as she met up with her classmates outside the hotel, escorted by two EMTs. There, she found everyone she'd worried about wrapped in towels, shivering and soaking wet. None appeared injured except for Flash, who was moaning about a scratch to the back of the hand. It was hardly bigger than a paper cut.

Cecelia's gut loosened a little at the sight of them—Mr. Harrington, Mr. Dell, Yasmin, Zoha, Zach, Betty, Alex—but not entirely. She still couldn't completely swallow down her guilt. Especially not when it was completely justified.

Alex had been leaning against the rickety fence, but when he heard the sound of Cecelia's arrival, he launched himself forward. "Cee!" he cried, uncharacteristic rawness lacing his tone. He opened his towel in order to wrap his arms around her, squeezing until Cecelia had to stifle a gasp. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, you're okay."

"Yeah," Cecelia said. "I'm fine."

Alex drew back, knowledge glittering in his eyes. "I heard Christine got hurt," he said. "I've been calling her for, like, an hour, but she hasn't picked up. God, Cee... is it bad?"

Cecelia avoided his gaze. Her brother may not be able to tell when she was lying—which had been proven during the five years she'd spent under Richard's thumb—but he had an uncanny knack for discerning when she felt guilty about something. It was how he'd caught her for breaking one of his old gymnastic trophies a few years back.

"It's... bad," she said. "She got this, like, shard of metal in her arm. I don't even know what it was from. But it was deep. I didn't even want to take it out when I found her. I just tied around the wound with my—with my sweater."

A few feet away, the emergency response team was speaking with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Dell. Probably debriefing them on the situation, Cecelia thought, even though it seemed they'd already gotten some information already. Otherwise, Alex wouldn't have known about Christine.

"Jesus fuck," Alex breathed, which seemed like a justifiable comment given the situation. "We weren't even apart for half an hour. We were just—we were just trying to look for you, and then I got swept up by this giant wave and lost sight of her. I didn't know—" he squeezed his eyes shut. "She shouldn't have gotten hurt."

"No," Cecelia said quietly. "She shouldn't have."

"What the hell was that thing?" Alex ran a hand down the length of his face. "It was, like, straight out of Avatar the Last Airbender, I swear to God—"

"I don't know." It was true. Cecelia didn't know what that water monster was. Which should have scared her—where had it come from? How did it even exist?—but didn't. Honestly, she was nothing but numb right now. Well, numb and filled to the brim with guilt.

"Do you think it was an Enhanced? Like, someone who could turn into water? And who do you think the other Enhanced was? The one who killed it?"

"I don't know," Cecelia repeated. "But they saved our lives."

"Yeah." Alex nodded. "Yeah, they did. Holy shit." He used the corner of his towel to wipe a stray water droplet from his face. "But Chris... she still got hurt. Oh, God, is she gonna need surgery?"

"No." This, Cecelia had asked outright. "Just stitches."

Alex's shoulders dropped in relief. "Thank God."

"Yeah."

Just then, Mr. Harrington hustled his way over, trailed by Mr. Dell. "Cecelia!" he said. "You're back. We're just waiting on Peter now. He's okay—I think he just got caught up with the EMTs. Or whatever you call them here. I could barely understand a word of what they were saying, to be honest."

A shudder ran its way through Cecelia's body. She'd called Peter again after she'd been given her check-up, but he hadn't responded. And, come to think of it, she hadn't seen him during the Enhanced's final battle with the monster. She'd only seen him hold up those buildings with his webs. "What happened to him?"

"Looks like he got a few bangs to the head," Mr. Dell answered. "I think they're checking him for a concussion."

Phew. Cecelia knew a rational person wouldn't have been glad to hear that, but she knew Peter. He seemed to have a noggin of steel, to be honest. If she tried to count the number of times he'd hit his head during patrol, she'd run out of fingers. And toes.

"Okay," she said.

"What about Christine?" Alex asked. "Did they tell you when she's gonna come back?"

"She's going to stay overnight at the hospital," Mr. Harrington said. "You know, just to check whether that cut of hers is infected. She should be released in the morning. But, um... I'm not really sure if she'll be joining us for the rest of the trip. I'm sure her parents will want her home."

"Wha—the trip's still happening?"

Mr. Harrington grimaced. "Given that Christine was the only one injured, and the fact that the monster that attacked us is now gone, Mr. Dell and I have decided that there's no reason to head home. Plus, I imagine booking the plane tickets would be a nightmare..."

Mr. Dell nodded. "We're still on for Paris tomorrow. Of course, if anyone's parents request them home, we'll try to arrange that, too. But the witches have been conquered. It seems that the universe is trying to encourage us to continue."

"Witches?" Alex asked.

"Don't mind him," said Mr. Harrington. "Now—oh, look! There's Peter!"

Cecelia turned so fast something in her neck snapped. Sure enough, Peter was approaching, wrapped in a towel of his own and flanked by two more emergency workers. When he noticed Cecelia, his eyes lit up. He took off in a run toward her.

"CeCe!" he said.

Cecelia tried to give him a smile, but she was sure it just seemed pained. "Hey, Peter."

"You're back earlier than we expected!" Mr. Harrington greeted. "Everything all right, Peter?"

Peter nodded. "No concussion. Just a bump that I'm sure will be gone soon. I promise, everything's okay."

"Well, that's good to hear. Just—take it easy for the next few days, all right? I don't think I could handle another one of my students being injured."

"Wait." Peter's eyes widened. Cecelia watched the panic that flitted over his face, accompanied by an all too familiar guilt. He hadn't been there, either. "Who was injured?"

"Christine," Cecelia said.

Peter paled. "Oh my—is she okay? I—I mean, is she going to be okay?"

"She's going to be fine," Mr. Harrington said, in what Cecelia was sure was meant to be a soothing voice. It didn't work on Cecelia. "Now—look. I think we should all get inside. Get into dry clothes, eat dinner, and just... you know, recuperate from this situation. Mr. Dell?"

"What?" Mr. Dell looked up from his cell phone. He must have pulled it out sometime after Peter's arrival. "Oh, yeah. Sure. Let's head inside."

"Okay. But Cecelia, can I talk to you before you go up to your room?"

Suddenly, Mr. Harrington was looking directly at Cecelia. Behind the lenses of his glasses, his eyes seemed to bore right into her soul. Whispering, I know it was your fault.

She rubbed her wrist. Well, she might as well get it over with.

"Sure," she said. Her voice was choked, but decipherable.

"Great." Mr. Harrington set a hand on her shoulder. Cecelia did everything in her power not to flinch. "Now, are you boys gonna be all right?"

Peter nodded. "Oh—yeah, yeah. I should, um... go check on Ned."

"I'm okay," Alex said, though he did shoot Cecelia a worried look. "Please tell me if anything changes about Christine's condition, though."

"Of course, of course." Mr. Harrington smiled. "Now, let's go."

Mr. Dell gathered everyone else up, and they headed back into the hotel in a frantic, chattering blur. Cecelia was sure multiple phone calls would have to be made to parents. Perhaps the trip would come to an end after all.

Mr. Harrington and Cecelia hung back, waiting for the crowd to dissipate. Once they had, he turned to her. A furrow had appeared between his brows.

"Hey, Cecelia," he said. "I heard it was you who helped Christine out earlier."

Cecelia looked up at him. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, it was me. I just—I was trying to find somewhere to hide from that—from that monster thing, and I saw her. I couldn't just—I couldn't just leave her."

"Well, I'm told that it was your quick thinking that helped prevent dangerous levels of blood loss. Plus, you got her out of what quickly became a dangerous area, and—"

"That wasn't me," Cecelia interrupted. "It was the—the Enhanced. The person who defeated the monster."

Mr. Harrington absorbed this smoothly. "Well, you still talked her down during a very dangerous situation. And it's because of you that she's going to be released from the hospital tomorrow. Well, if she is cleared, of course. That's... not something that can be ignored."

Cecelia hated this. The praise that left her teacher's lips, the way he was looking at her. Like she was some kind of hero.

After all, she'd proven to be the opposite today.

"I didn't do anything," she said. Letting the words physically leave her lips was a blow, but a desperately needed one. She hadn't done anything. Everything that had occurred today was her fault.

Unfortunately, Mr. Harrington wasn't finished. "On the contrary, I'd say that you did a lot. I just—well, I know you've gone through a lot during the past few years. Or... the past decade? I still don't know if we can count the years we were Blipped. But you showed real bravery today. That's not something that can be ignored."

"No." Tears were filling Cecelia's eyes again. "I didn't do anything."

"Cecelia—"

"Thank you for the talk, Mr. Harrington." Cecelia rubbed her wrist again. "I'm going upstairs, now."

Mr. Harrington's eyes drooped. He looked desperately confused. Cecelia wanted to get into his face and scream at him. Don't you see? I didn't help Christine, I failed her! Just like I failed everyone else who got injured today.

She didn't say anything more, though. Instead, she just pushed her way into the hotel and tried to ignore the slosh of more water seeping into her socks.

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HAVEN: you know, i'd tell you that i was sorry, but i'd just be lying. i'm not sorry. i hurt christine and smiled at my keyboard. i wrote cecelia's angst and then slept for a solid 9 hours. i do not feel guilty in the slightest. in fact, i am relishing in all of the pain and suffering.

i'm just kidding. sort of. but yeah, have another doozy of a chapter! honestly, all of the elemental battles were super hard to write, and i seem to have a habit of changing them up anyways. would beck really have been able to save someone in mcu canon? i don't know, but he can in this fic! let's just say that he used drones. i don't know.

the next chapter broke into my house, robbed me of all of my possessions, kidnapped me, threw me in a trunk, and left me to fend for myself in the wilderness. that's how hard it was to write. but it's a good one, so buckle your seatbelts. the train to angst city is making another stop!

thanks for reading!! <33