Seek {Superhero AU} - Ending 1

Epilogue: Let's See What This Love Can Do

We reach the gallery with the target painting. I'm not surprised to find an awkward empty space on the wall where the "Madonna and Child" used to be. It's the most expensive piece of art the museum has right now. If the robber went for anything less than the best painting here, I would wonder if they're worth our time.

"Well, I can't imagine Duccio di Buoninsegna would be very happy right now," I say as I examine the empty square on the wall. The person we're trailing right now didn't seem to need to fight anyone to get this painting—they just took it off the wall, let the alarms screech, and talked their way out of here.

After meeting the thief face-to-face, I understand why the guards all failed to protect the painting. This thief isn't like the others.

Will rolls his eyes at me. "You know the artist of the painting that got stolen? How do you even know what the painting is?"

"I'm Italian, Will. My mother used to bring me here to show me what Italian art looks like," I tell him as I continue out the door of the gallery; the thief is gone, so there's no use staying here. Probably we should head down to the lobby and try to cut them off there. More likely, this will turn into a chase down 5th Avenue. Honestly, I'm kind of hoping it turns into a chase down 5th Avenue.

"Is it a pretty painting?" Will asks as he follows me through rooms of art, occasionally stopping to take a picture. I don't wait for him.

"Oh, God, no," I laugh. "The baby has the face of a forty-year-old engineer, and the mother looks like she's three seconds away from giving the baby up for adoption. But it's worth almost fifty million dollars, so."

"A big deal then," Will says as he takes another picture.

"Yeah," I agree. "Pretty big deal." We take an elevator down to the first floor. There's no standard elevator music, so Will hums to himself while we wait. He takes an elevator selfie with me in the background. I think he's doing a peace sign with one hand in the picture.

We step out of the elevator in time to see the thief run out the door, carrying a painting smaller than the length of their forearm.

Will immediately sprints after them, ready for the chase. I don't bother running; instead, I push myself off the ground, soaring past Will and shoving open the door to follow the thief.

Outside, the thief slides into a sleek white car, and their getaway driver doesn't wait a second; tires screech as the car takes off.

Pedestrians and tourists stop walking when they see me, and several raise their phones to take pictures. After working with Sunburst to fight crime for three years, people seemed to have forgotten about their initial dislike for me. It appears that the citizens of New York didn't hold a grudge against me, which is kind of unexpected because New Yorkers tend to hold grudges against people who even just minorly inconvenience them.

I fly after the car, and I hear people cheer when Will steps out of the MET, too. (They may like me now, but he's still the average person's favorite between the two of us—to be honest, I can't blame them. He's wonderful; I love him, too.) He doesn't pay the forming crowds much attention; instead, he takes off and soars beside me as we follow the car.

"You get the thief, I get the driver?" I ask. He nods, and together we dive at the car.

I land on the hood, and the driver cries out in surprise. The car swerves, and we go spinning into the greenery of Central Park. Will glares at me as he clings to the roof of the car, trying not to get thrown off.

When the car slows to a stop, I send shadows flying at the glass, and it shatters, raining down onto the dash and the driver's lap.

"I'm pretty sure you have something you're not supposed to have," I tell him. "Want to hand it over now?"

The driver is a short Latino guy, who tilts his head and smiles at me. "Uh...no?"

Will pulls open the car door to find the thief we've been chasing—a pretty girl with brown hair and blue eyes. She's wearing a suit and a mask, but the moment Will looks at her, she takes it off. Usually robbers keep their mask on for as long as possible, but this thief is special. I focus my attention on the driver again, hoping Will can handle himself.

"I'll just have to take it, then," I say, shrugging. I send tendrils of shadow at him like ropes, and they pin him to the chair while I slide off the hood. Will and I have both started carrying rope for moments like these, but it just hangs at our side until it's time to arrest someone.

I grab the driver by the arm and start to pull him out of the car, but then I realize that Will, for some reason, has stepped away from the car and is staring at the girl like he's been hypnotized.

I groan. "Not again."

The thing that makes this thief so special is that she has powers, too.

"You can't charmspeak your way through everything," I protest, and the girl only laughs.

"Can't I?" she asks. Then, to Will, "Go hold your boyfriend back from arresting my driver."

"Alright," Will agrees cheerily, and then he soars over the car, plummeting into me. He pins me to the ground, one hand grabbing each wrist and pushing me into the grass. I groan in pain.

"Hello," he greets, and he's smiling at me as if I should be very happy to be pinned down right now. "You're very pretty."

I cough a little and try to push him off me, but he's not to be dissuaded from this. The driver winks at me as he closes the car door again and steps on the gas—just as Will's eyes begin to clear and he looks vaguely confused about why he's pinning me down in the middle of Central Park.

"What's happening right now?" Will asks me.

"She told you to keep me away from the driver, and this was your solution," I grunt. "Get off me."

He kisses my masked forehead before complying, getting back to his feet and staring in the direction that the thieves went. "This might be a difficult case. We haven't had a difficult one in a while."

"We could use a challenge," I say, and I can't deny there's a bit of admiration for the thieves in my tone.

"This is going to be fun," Will laughs, and then he launches himself back into the golden sunset, and I take a moment to admire his beauty before pushing off the ground and flying after him.

I haven't always been this way. The string of fate twists and turns and never heads straight—and occasionally, the string intertwines with another, and you don't realize your paths are inseparable until you see their face against the golden sky, and you know.

By 'this way,' I mean a lot of things. I have a hard time seeing the bright side of things, but I try; I sometimes struggle to take care of myself, but I know how to get help; I spend more time under stars than I do under the sun, but I've learned to love both; I found a happy ending despite believing for years that I would probably never get one.

Oh, yeah. And I'm a hero. Or so Will says.

Fate is more than death looming on the horizon. Fate is people, and fate is the struggle to get to the other side because maybe, just maybe, there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

My Fate String didn't take me where I expected, or even where I wanted. But it took me to a place where I feel happy when I wake up in the morning. It took me to a place where I'm no longer thinking of the past, but instead I'm enjoying the present and planning for the future.

I haven't always been this way. And that's okay.

Because no matter who I've been in the past, and no matter who I'll be in the future, I understand who I am right here in this moment—and that is all that has ever mattered. 

Word count: 2048

A/N: See next chapter for story-related resources, including a link to the original version of this story! It has changed s i g n i f i c a n t l y.

Also, quick note: if any of you ever end up going back to reread this story, it is your duty to make up ridiculous theories in the comments to try to prank/trick other readers. No giving away Naomi, no spoilers--but maximum chaos.

Yours,
Sunny
they/them