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  “I understand.”

  With one last glare, he left.

  • • •

  Harris had been my second visitor.

  “Heard you got canned, buddy,” he said, strolling in.

  I was feeling better by then, able to at least sit up and form sentences longer than a few words. I gave Harris a look. His tone didn’t exactly respect the severity of the situation.

  “I bet everybody’s heard by now,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He slid into the chair by my bedside. “But not everyone’s going to offer you their couch to sleep on, now that you’re an unemployed, disabled man.”

  I blinked. “You forgot ‘blacklisted.’ The DSA wouldn’t be happy with you.”

  He shrugged easily, but making that offer couldn’t have been easy. I was touched. But not so self-absorbed that I’d actually let him go through with it.

  “Thanks, but I’ve seen the pigsty you call an apartment. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Up to you, but the offer stands.” He leaned back and propped his feet up on my bed, and I could see where he’d worn the grips on the soles of his sneakers almost smooth. “So. The Black Valentine, huh? I bet she’s freaky in bed. Tell me all the dirty details.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Prude,” he said. Then his smile faded. “She come to see you yet?”

  I lowered my eyes. He winced in sympathy.

  “Let me know if you want me to run her down for you.”

  I didn’t, but it was nice of him to offer. We spent the rest of his visit talking about inconsequential things.

  • • •

  At some point, I had managed to get my hands on a battered mystery novel and used it to distract myself. I’d been in serious need of some escapism, anything to put off thinking about the present or my future. I’d watched a lot of TV, but now it was off, and the silence made the room feel almost peaceful if I didn’t think too much. When the doorknob turned, I immediately looked up.

  The door cracked opened slowly, and Val looked in. When she saw me, she opened it the rest of the way and stepped inside with uncharacteristic hesitation. Elisa trailed in after her, a stylish hat covering her shaved head, her gaze glued nervously to her feet.

  “Hey,” said Val softly.

  “Hey,” I whispered back, afraid to raise my voice and break the spell. I’d dropped the book and lost my place, but I barely noticed.

  Val picked up a chair from the corner and brought it over to the one next to my bedside. She gestured Elisa forward encouragingly, and the two of them sat down. I fumbled for something to say, but my brain didn’t seem to be working, and I couldn’t blame it on the medication. They say first impressions are important, and I wished the first impression I’d given my daughter hadn’t been me killing people and screaming at her to get out of a burning building. And as second impressions go, staring at her stupidly from a hospital bed probably wasn’t helping much. Not that she was even looking at me. She was staring at her hands folded in her lap.

  “Dave, this is Elisa,” Val said, looking between us. “Elisa, this… is your father.”

  Elisa glanced up hesitantly, and I smiled.

  • • •

  My eyes were closed, but I didn’t have to open them to know I was on a beach. The steady rumbling of the waves onto the shore threatened to lull me to sleep, the soft sand beneath me better than a bed, the warmth of the sun on my skin more comfortable than any blanket. It couldn’t be any beach in Miami. I heard no people, no talking or shouting, no music being blared; just the wind and the sea and the crying of distant gulls.

  I opened my eyes. The sky above was a perfect, clear blue, and the ocean reflected its color dazzlingly. Pristine white sand stretched as far as the eye could see to either side of me. It rose into hilly dunes behind me, covered by green vegetation and palm trees blowing in the breeze. It was a tropical paradise, but I was alone. Not a single boat, plane, or person appeared in the scenery.

  I had on white swimming trunks, and my body was young and whole and wore it well. I propped myself up into a sitting position and took a deep breath of the salty sea air. Nothing hurt. I felt wonderful.

  “Hey.”

  Val was suddenly lying next to me in a black bikini, her head propped up by her hand. She was younger, too. I looked at her for a long time.

  “I’m dreaming,” I said.

  She smiled. “Yep.”

  I reached out and touched her, the sensation of her skin something I could remember even asleep. “I guess my subconscious would want to see you safe and happy.”

  “Oh, please. Your subconscious was taking a nightmare trip down memory lane. I made this. It’s much nicer, don’t you think?”

  I stared, my thoughts moving at the speed of a sixty-year-old computer.

  “You’re in my head,” I breathed.

  “There wasn’t much of a choice. Can you believe they put us in separate hospital rooms? After everything we—”

  I practically dove on her, covering her mouth with mine. Telepathic mindscape or not, she felt real, every bit of her. And I didn’t have to worry about breaking her here. I could pour all the desperation, fear, and yearning of the past two days into the way I kissed her, held her, wanted every inch of her. God, I was never letting go of her again.

  “Easy, Dave,” she gasped. “Your body’s hooked up to a heart monitor. What are the doctors going to think of you getting aroused?”

  “That I’m dreaming of you.” I ran my fingers along her cheek. I could hardly believe she was here. She wasn’t—not really; there was no here. But she was alive and well, and so was I. Everything else was just details.

  “I was afraid you were—” My voice broke. “I thought—”

  “I know.”

  “Are you okay? You’re awake and everything?”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s a wreck.”

  I rolled off of her and leaned back, so relieved, I felt exhausted. Val snuggled up against me, resting her head on my chest. For time unmeasurable, we just lay there, just existed together. It was perfect.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “For what?”

  “Everything. It seems like whenever something is my fault, you end up paying the price.”

  “This wasn’t your fault.”

  “You got drawn into it because of me. Because of who I am.” She sighed. “Sometimes I think you’d be much better off if I were someone else.”

  “Impossible.” I lifted up her chin, so that she was looking at me. “I wouldn’t love someone else. I love you.”

  “Yes, well, sometimes you’re an idiot, David.”

  “Happiest idiot in the world,” I shot back.

  She smiled. I smiled. Everything was right in the world.

  • • •

  I didn’t go with Val to get Elisa back from Mr. Lucifer. Strategically, it would be better for Val to confront her father alone. Realistically, I was confined to bed and unable to go anywhere, much less into a den of supervillains. Val hadn’t lied to me in the dream; I was a wreck. Black eye, bruised ribs, mild sprained shoulder, black and blue everything, and a knee so swollen, I could barely bend it. My doctors weren’t happy with me.

  With Val and Elisa gone, the house felt empty, but I was hardly alone. Eddy was recuperating as well, which left Irma to pull double-duty cooking and cleaning, not to mention taking care of two grumpy old bedridden men.

  “When Eddy makes minestrone soup, he sprinkles parmesan cheese on top,” I teased as she put a bowl in front of me for lunch.

  She raised an eyebrow in a way that reminded me eerily of my mother. “Do I look like Eddy?”

  “I’m sure your recipe is even better,” I said quickly.

  “It’s from a can. There are two things I do very well: I can clean, and I can put a knife in a man from fifty paces. I can’t cook.”

  Before I could respond, she walked out of the room—or almost did before stopping at the door. “I’m also a very go
od nanny. And I have been for two generations of Belmontes.” She looked back at me, her expression softening. “Thank you for keeping them safe.”

  I nodded, and she went on her way.

  I passed most of the time watching television. I started with the news, but every channel was reporting on the tragedy in Miami, and the death tolls depressed me. If I’d been a better superhero, maybe I could have stopped Dr. Sweet before the No-Men went on their rampage. Maybe twenty-three people would still be alive today.

  And I couldn’t stand what the news was saying about me. No, they didn’t condemn me; I was back to being the hero again. Val had picked Ruby’s information out of my brain and called her as a thank-you present to me. (Ruby was fine, by the way.) I said I didn’t need a present for looking after my wife, but she said the whole point of presents was that you didn’t need them. Anyway, Ruby had spun the story from a sex scandal to a tale of star-crossed lovers. The exact same reporters who’d called me a traitor to my country and a horrible influence on children were now saying how romantic the whole thing was and how I’d turned the Black Valentine to the side of good with my manliness or something. It made me weep for the future of journalism.

  The Idols' PR people were on the job, too. Officially, the news was saying they’d joined forces with White Knight to take down Dr. Sweet, but I wasn’t sure how many people were buying it. The video of me punching Mr. Tomorrow in the face had over 10 million views on Youtube already.

  Of course, the real issue wasn’t the media’s opinion but the DSA’s. I’d broken more laws than I cared to think about in the past few days, but Val had some very good lawyers. They didn’t think I would end up in court. Once again, my popularity protected me. Maybe it was a good thing Val had called Ruby. Either way, I was incredibly lucky. Walter must have been furious.

  I was pretty much the only lucky one. Moreen had survived her assault, but as far as the DSA was concerned, her mind had been compromised. It was too much of a security risk to keep her in the position of director when telepathic commands might be lying dormant in her brain. I’d sent her an apology/get-well-soon card. She’d sent me a caustic email telling me not to apologize for a supervillain’s attack, and that she was depressed enough without my guilt complex hanging over her, thank you very much. So all things considered, it sounded like she was doing pretty well.

  I’d see her at Harris’s funeral. It was scheduled for Tuesday, and I was going to be there; my wheelchair was already prepped and ready. Now that there was no longer an emergency, I had time to grieve, and I spent most of the day staring at the TV without really seeing what was on it. There would be a lot of funerals in the coming days, but one I wouldn’t be going to was Starla’s. Treasure had said it would be a small, family affair, her mouth twisting into a smile as she mused how her mother would have wanted something ostentatious, public, and costing at least a couple hundred grand. She’d visited me with her uncle, a soft-spoken, balding man who spent his share of the family fortune maintaining a collection of rare and expensive books. I couldn’t imagine anyone more different from Starla, which seemed to me exactly what Treasure needed.

  I flipped through the channels for most of the afternoon, stopping on whatever caught my interest for the moment, and tried to avoid thinking about what must be going on at the Belmonte family manor. Val was a persuasive woman, but Lucio was Lucio. He had no reason to hold onto Elisa now that her mother had returned, but that wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted her to stay. After the incident with Mental, Lucio would know his granddaughter had superpowers. The status quo had been blasted to bits, and there was no telling what would happen now.

  And I had absolutely no control over the situation. I could only wonder how Val was doing. Then I’d wonder if she’d run into Giordano yet, and how that would go. Maybe it was just guilt over slicing his tendons, but I kind of hoped she’d be nice to him. He’d risked a lot to try and save her, and if there was one thing I understood, it was being hopelessly in love with Valentina Belmonte. I just didn’t want her to be too nice, you know? I took comfort in the fact that with two black eyes and a broken nose, Giordano had to be looking even worse than I was.

  The doorbell rang, and I got excited for two seconds before I remembered that if it was Val and Elisa, they wouldn’t ring the doorbell; they’d come in through the garage. I settled back down into the pillows, content to let Irma handle it. A minute later, she knocked on my open door.

  “There’s a Julio Fuentes to see you. You want me to send him away?”

  I stared at her stupidly while my brain got a handle on the development. “Um, no. I’ll see him.”

  “In here or in the living room?”

  My pride demanded that I drag my sorry self up and at least situate my broken body in a chair. But my pride could stuff it. My body could barely move. “In here is fine.”

  She left to get him, and I tidied up the clutter of odds and ends that had accumulated around me. I might as well try to look halfway presentable, for all the good it would do.

  Julio came in a few moments later. He was out of uniform, wearing jeans and a black shirt, and didn’t have so much as a scratch on him. He looked me up and down critically. “You look like shit.” He paused. “No. Shit looks better than you. Shit is insulted by the comparison.”

  “While you look fresh as a daisy,” I replied. “How did you make it through that mess uninjured? Were you fighting or did you go back to dancing when I wasn’t looking?”

  “I suffered a grade one concussion, thanks.”

  The smirk fell off my face, and I looked him over for any signs of disorientation. “Are your symptoms gone? What happened?” A No-Man couldn’t have hit him; that would have taken his head clean off.

  “This asshole with super-strength hit me when he was resisting arrest.”

  I winced, remembering the tap and how he’d gone down. Nice going, Dave. Give the poor kid a concussion. At least it was only a grade one.

  “Sorry about that.”

  He shrugged it off.

  I lay there awkwardly for a moment. “What were you doing at the club if you had a concussion?”

  “Ruby wouldn’t let me out of it. She said I was being a whiner.”

  I smiled. Then the silence lengthened, and my smile faded. Honestly, I found fighting supervillains a lot easier than this kind of thing. Val spoiled me, reading my mind so I didn’t have to say a lot aloud.

  Man up, Del Toro.

  “Look,” I said. “I don’t know if you suffered any memory loss when I hit your thick head, but I meant what I said back there. I’m sorry. After I retired… everyone in the DSA was furious. I didn’t think you’d feel any different. And even if you did, I’m blacklisted. Hanging around with me is like throwing your career in front of a bus. You shouldn’t even be here right now.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Everyone hates you because of your super-rich, super-hot wife. Your life is so hard.”

  “I’m talking about your life.”

  “You can’t talk about my life. You missed the last four years of it.”

  The anger rose behind his voice, and it was like we were in the lobby of Benita’s condo again, right back where we started. I froze, not knowing how to handle it.

  Julio rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll get out of here so you can rest.”

  He headed for the door, and my thoughts went into overdrive. I owed him more than this, more than a crappy goodbye full of bitter, unresolved feelings, but I didn’t want to risk hurting his career, either. Letting him walk out might be the best thing I could do for him.

  But who was I to decide what was best for him? He was a grown man, and I wasn’t his mentor anymore.

  “Julio.”

  He stopped.

  “You’re right,” I said simply. “And if you want to sit down and catch a stupid old man up on the last four years… Well, I’d appreciate it.”

  He sat. We talked. It wasn’t perfect, but we parted on better te
rms than we’d met on the other day, and that was all I could ask.

  Hours passed, the afternoon light faded, and a thunderstorm came and went. It was almost seven when Val entered my mind. In a single instant, I learned that she and Elisa were coming up the driveway, Elisa was fine, and they’d come to see me the moment they got inside. I turned off the TV and waited for what seemed like a much longer time than it really was.

  Then the door opened, and Elisa half walked, half ran across the bedroom to hug me.

  “Careful.” I squeezed my eyes shut as my bruised ribs flared. “You have super-strength now, remember?”

  “Sorry! Sorry.” She pulled back with a guilty expression. Val came in after her with a smile.

  “You look awful,” Elisa told me.

  “Thanks, sweetheart. And you look wonderful. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It was fine. I need to think about what’s best for the family and not turn into a disappointment like my mother, blah blah blah. The usual stuff.”

  “I… think I’m glad to hear it.”

  Elisa smiled. Val sat down on the edge of the bed and took one of my hands. I took Elisa’s with the other and gave both of them a light squeeze. I could hardly believe we’d all made it through this. There had been times when a moment as perfect as this had seemed utterly impossible to envision as part of my future. I was so lucky; I didn’t deserve half of what I had. I loved them both so much.

  “Oookaaay, nice to be home and everything, but this is getting sappy. I’m outta here.” Elisa slipped her hand out of mine and headed for the door. Then she flinched. “Ew. Mom.”

  Val looked at her distractedly. “Hm?”

  “Don’t think that. You can’t do stuff like that anymore. I’m telepathic now, remember?”

  “It’ll be excellent motivation to work on your mental shields,” Val said.

  Elisa blanched and fled the room with a disgusted noise. I wouldn’t be surprised if she ran all the way back to Lucio’s.

  I looked at Val in horror. “She’s telepathic now.”

  “Yes, dear.”