Pete

2 Weeks Prior

"Absolutely not!" I yelled, slamming my hand on Renee's desk. 

"Pete, we're out of options!" She screamed back. 

"Jesus Christ, Renee, then at least do her the courtesy of telling her the truth, will you? In fact, might as well tell both of them, while you're at it."

"Pete, calm down," Oliver snapped from Renee's side of the room, and the argument. 

"Me calm down? Me? I'm not the one who wants to kidnap and use the poor kid."

"Pete," Renee said quietly. "Robert made us swear that if anything like this started happening to her-"

"Don't you dare twist Rob's words. You know full well what he meant. He meant that if any of this started happening to her, we find her and help her control it, not use it for our own goddamn benefit!"

"Why not do both, if the stars align?" Oliver asked.

"Because- because it's not... right," I spluttered.

"Oliver, you know better than anyone that it's never as simple as right or wrong. And as for the other thing, absolutely not. She thinks her parents were heroes, and we'll keep it that way."

"And what about when she finds out, Renee? Then what do we do?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but I cut in, "And don't you dare tell me that she won't find out. She's smarter than that."

"Fine. I'll make you a deal. She starts to suspect, you can tell her. But you don't get to drag the rest of us into this."

"Fine," I spat, and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

Present Day

She was a good kid. Smart, too. I kept casting sidelong glances at her as we walked to the library. It was so weird. Last time I'd seen her, I could've held her in one hand, and now she came up to my neck.

What bothered me was that she didn't know a thing. But Renee, Oliver, and I, oh we knew, and we acted so casual. The first truth, Renee had agreed, was the simpler of the two. I'd managed to negotiate that we would tell her well in advance. 

I wasn't thrilled about her being my fratem, and I strongly suspected that the feeling was  reciprocated. 

What if she couldn't fight? What if I had to look after her all the time, for the rest of my life.

But that was ridiculous. Oliver had told me what she did to the guy on the roof. But yet, I couldn't help worrying. What if I let her down, the way I had Jemma? I neatly shoved the thought out of my head and started a conversation to keep it at bay.

"What are your favorite last words?" I asked, still thinking of Polo's. Oh, wow, Pete, nice. Way to make the abused kid trust you. Ask her about her favorite deathbed quotes. Maybe I'll use it next time I go to a club.

I wasn't sure what was more laughable: the thought of me using that line, or the thought of me at a club.

To my surprise, she didn't laugh, and responded almost immediately. 

"Steve Jobs. Just before he died, he regained consciousness for a second and said, 'Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.' Like, what did he see, right?"

"Huh," I said.

"What?"

"It's just that you seem like the kind of girl who, when asked that question, would respond with something medical and cold."

"Thanks. And yeah, I have no doubt that it was some sort of hallucination, but you have to admit that it's kind of comforting to think that when you slip into oblivion, your last conscious feeling is one of awe." 

I looked at her for a moment. It was kind of sad, that she was only fourteen, and yet she knew with such certainty that there was no afterlife. Hell, I was twenty-seven and I still didn't know. 

I was saved having to respond by our arrival at the library, but still couldn't help but wonder: what made her so broken?