Hero Types

Chapter 24

"Hey, Kit."
    She spun around and checked over her shoulder. Brad was talking to her again. It was so bizarre. She waved like an idiot.
    "Hi...?"
    "Let me walk you to class."
    He fell in line with her on her way to chemistry. She didn't know why he needed to walk her to class. She could get there by herself.
    "So, you never really answered me."
    "What?"
    "The other week?" She blinked. "In gym class?"
    "Oh. That. Yeah. No."
    "You okay?" He frowned. "You look upset."
    "No, that's—just my face."
    "Anyway...what do you say?" She said nothing. He rephrased. "Are you down to go out sometime?"
    "Um..." she stared at her sneakers.
    "I'm free Saturday."
    Brad's shirt was really tight. Shut up. He's a dick. Tell him he's a dick.
    "Listen, I'm kind of involved."
    "You said that last time. Like..." he waved her on.
    "With...a guy," she said. She hadn't spoken to Mickey in four days. They hadn't even texted.
    "Oh. Okay." They kept walking. "Who is it?"
    "Um, he doesn't go here."
    "Huh." He shrugged. "So, like, is it...serious?"
    She couldn't figure out why he—and several others—were suddenly interested in a girl they couldn't have given less of a shit about at the beginning of the year. She hadn't gotten new clothes, cut her hair, or anything. She'd even gained two pounds. Was it some kind of last ditch effort, with school ending and all the males throwing caution to the wind in one desperate final attempt to get laid before it was over?
    "Uh...yeah." She shrugged back. I think it's serious? But we're kind of fighting, maybe. But you don't need to know that. "Um–you know, listen–I'm just...not that into you." Don't apologize, you weak turd. "Sorry."    "Oh. Um..." he looked confused. He shrugged and took a step back. "Yeah. Totally. That's fine. Um...yeah. Good luck with...whoever, he is." He nodded awkwardly and hurried away before anyone could see the rejection on his face. She would have felt bad, except he was still a dick to literally everybody and she didn't feel bad at all.
    She frowned at his back and went to her desk.
    "What did Brad want?"
    She jumped and spun around. Her elbow pushed her textbook off the table. Slam! She bent over to retrieve it. Did she lie?
    "He...asked me out."
    Bridget didn't say anything. Kit took out her laptop and her homework and glanced over her shoulder.
    "I said no," she added.
    Bridget nodded and remained silent. The class bell rang.
    She headed for the train after school, but saw Lucas's car parked in the lot.
    "What's up?" she greeted him, automatically going for shotgun. There was an auburn-haired woman sitting there. She had a pretty, square face and wore bright red lipstick.
    "This is Amanda," Lucas said. "Amanda, Kit."
    "Nice to meet you." She had a heavy Southern accent. Kit got in the back.
    Lucas dropped Amanda off out front of a law firm, and she pretended not to notice when they said a rather amorous goodbye. She stood waving on the sidewalk as they drove away.
    She cleared her throat. "What's the job?"
    "Hmm? Oh. Prison break. Shouldn't take long."
    It was weird being in the car with him alone. She felt like he could see right through her. Lucas was the most trustworthy person she knew, and she was lying to him.
    "How was school?"
    "Same old." What now? "What's your lady friend?"
    "She's a lawyer."
    "Like, are you guys serious?" When Brad asked her that and she got to say yes, she felt very grown-up.
    "Uh..." he shrugged, smiling. "Maybe. Time will tell."
    Maybe Lucas was smarter than her.
    It wasn't so much about tracking down a criminal escapee as preventing the escape from happening. He had some sort of super agility, and a lot of friends on the inside. They met Jersey and Mickey there. It was raining.
    He met her gaze when she stepped out of the car, but they didn't give each other a signal. She told herself that it was because of Lucas being there. That was the only reason, for sure.
    "Our main goal is to stop this from happening without anyone ever knowing we were here." They huddled next to the wall, hoods pulled up to keep the water off their faces. Mickey and Jersey had umbrellas, and she couldn't go underneath either one without making someone wonder what was up.
    "Jersey," Lucas said, his spirits not at all dampened by the weather, "I need you to get past the guards and keep an eye on our guards. I'll get to the electric panel in case something goes wrong. Mickey and Kit," he turned to them, "you two will be going in the same way he's going to try to get out, and you're going to block it off."
    "How're we going to do that?" Mickey asked.
    Lucas held up cans of foam. "Industrial strength." He handed them over. Kit sprayed a bit on the ground to experiment. "Everyone keep your phones on and silent, text if anything goes wrong."
    They had to wait for Lucas to cut the cameras, which Mickey couldn't do because he couldn't touch them. Kit hugged herself and watched tendrils of electricity snake up the brick wall.
    "Kit." She turned around. Mickey beckoned her over with a finger. She ducked under his umbrella and tried not to touch him.
    "Got it!" Lucas leapt down, repeated their individual instructions a final time, and they were all on their own ways. They stood quietly in the rain for another minute, saying nothing.
    "Well."
    "Yeah, we'd better get going."
    Mickey couldn't find any mechanisms, computer or otherwise, in the pipe, but he had a screwdriver in his hand and he took the grate off within a few minutes. He glanced back, rain dripping off his nose. The light in his throat throbbed.
    "Coming?"
    She closed the umbrella and ducked after him. She was really glad she hadn't worn her good shoes. She was soaked to her ankles in a second.
    They waded through the dark. She followed Mickey's faint glow. They heard a skittering in the dark, and he glowed brighter for a moment. She almost laughed, but he hadn't made a single joke. Maybe he was actually mad at her, like, for real.
    They reached a ladder, which they clambered carefully up. It was wet and slimy. She almost slipped.
    They walked, doubled over, down a drier corridor till they found a solid door that was locked from the inside. Mickey knelt and put his ear on it. She found herself staring at him in thought and wrenched her gaze away.
Click!
    He stepped aside. "After you."
    There was a dark room with a view through a narrow grate.
    "This the place?"
    "Hold on." She texted Lucas. He replied within a minute that they were on the correct story. "Yeah."
    "Cool."
    They shook the cans and set to filling in the screw holes. It was a tiny space, and sometimes his shoulder pressed into her, and sometimes when she leaned to the side her hand landed on his. His breath was on her. She knew him well enough to even distinguish Fitz's musk on his jeans.
    "That it?"
    She recapped her can and shrugged. "Yeah. I—" She frowned. She pulled out her phone.
'WRONG FLOOR WRONG FLOOR'
    "What?"
    "Wait, I think—"
    'DOWNSTAIRS'
    "Shit."
    "What?!"
    "Come on." By force of habit she gave a tug on his bicep to signify that he ought to follow. She sprinted through the doorway and skidded to a half by the ladder. Mickey appeared a second later. "He's downstairs—"
    She had slung her feet over the edge in the spur of the moment and forgotten how slippery the rungs were. Her stomach flew into her throat and she fell.
    She tensed up and hit the water and then the concrete. Sploosh, smack! Her arm and her hip were burning, and her left foot was shattered. She was unable to move from fear.
    "Kit!"
    She saw a figure past the ladder, framed by distant light. She took deep, gasping breaths and got to her knees. She gripped the ladder and pulled herself up.
    "Jesus, Kit," Mickey dropped into the puddle beside her, a hand laid on her shoulder, "are you okay? Are you—"
    "Watch out!"
    She flung up her hands just as a knife whistled toward them. Taking her hands off the ladder meant collapsing. The knife hit and spun off the shield, clattering into the water, and she fell. Mickey caught her under the arms and her shield fell apart. He held up his arm, which flared.
    "Don't!"
    He put it down. The convict was splashing around in search of his dagger. Kit lurched out of Mickey's grip and fell on top of the man.
    He was small and thin. He hissed—not crying out, because that would reveal his presence to the guards—and clawed at her. She bumped her hip and almost shouted. She heard scuffling and more hot breath and pressure against her limbs, and then she rolled over, panting, and Mickey had him pinned down.
    He looked up. He opened his mouth, and she said, "Tie him up." The rope was in her pocket. He took it out—touching her hip again—and fastened the man's legs before gagging him. Kit saw stars from the pain.
    Mickey finished and sat back, breathing heavily. His brow said ouch, but his eyes said I'm worried about you.
    "Are you okay?"
    She took a deep breath. She nodded. She was still shaking. "Yeah. Couple bruises."
    "Sure?"
    "Yeah."
    They sat in silence for a minute. She texted Jersey to seal off the bottom drainage entrance, and it took her five tries with all her trembling. She put her phone away and tucked her hands between her legs. She took another very deep breath. Mickey's breathing was loud and close, too.
    It was so quiet except for that.
    "I'm sorry," she said. "I guess that was inappropriate. I didn't—I didn't mean to...offend you."
    "Oh, Kit," He shook his head, clucking his tongue. "No. Fuck, no. I'm sorry. I...overreacted. I should have handled that better. I've been a childish asshole."
    They were quiet again. He looked up.
    "D'you want a hug?"
    That was the best thing she'd heard all day. She'd hoped he would squeeze her hard so she could ignore the pain in her foot, but he was gentle, probably because he thought it would help. She nuzzled gladly under his metal throat and rested against his drainage-sticky skin for a nice, comfortable minute.
    "We should go back," she said finally. He helped her up and grabbed the convict.
    "You sure you're all right, though?
    "Yeah, yeah." She took two steps and she fell into the wall. Mickey groaned something and fixed his shoulder beneath her. She tried to save her weight for her good foot, but she kept tripping and falling on him anyway.
    The car wasn't there yet. A text from Lucas said it would be soon. They stood in the rain, the half-escaped convict at their feet. Kit handed him back his umbrella, and he immediately pulled her under it. She leaned on him. His arm moved to support her. She somehow ended up in the warm spot beneath it.
    "Hey," she said. "We're serious, right?"
    "With this? I mean...sure, however...you feel it's going?"
    "Yeah." She swallowed. "Yeah. I like it."
    "Yeah?" He wiped water out of his eyes. "Me too."
    They stood another minute in the rain. The convict just groaned a few times and made no effort to wriggle away. She decided that she was rather fond of Mickey's neck.
    "I want to go on a date."
    He cocked an eyebrow. "Somewhere other than my garage and the CAA? And such pleasant outings as these?"
    "Like...a date-date. With...food. And other things."
    "Sure. Whenever you want. Chances are I'm free."
    "Well." She felt her face reddening and she focused on the building across the street. "I want to cook you dinner."
    He looked at her. "Oh." His voice was startled and soft. He'd never been into Kit's home before. "Yeah. I—yeah. Totally."
    "Um..." she shuffled her feet, "my Gran's out of town Saturday."
    "All right, then."
    "Yeah. Um." She rubbed the metal tip of his pointer finger. "She's staying at a friend's house. Like...she's out...all night."
    She glanced his way. The realization flickered over his face, his mouth forming another silent 'Oh.' She turned away. Her elbow was definitely digging into his stomach, but she was too hurt and nervous to move it.
    "Yeah. Sounds good," he said. She nodded. "So...we're on."
    "What? Yeah. Okay. Cool."
    The cars rolled up. Mickey helped her to the backseat of Lucas's vehicle. Jersey said he would drive him to his car down the block and bring the criminal to a more secure prison upstate, where he was headed for the weekend.
    Mickey didn't take his head out of the backseat till the last possible moment before it got weird. They got away with their little handshake, and then he gave her arm a light shove and told her to get some ice on her ankle. She twisted around and watched him get in the yellow car as they drove away.
    The rain kept coming down.