The helicopter's noise didn't reach Chase at all. Neither did the sights of Santa Infierno. They flew high enough to survey of the damage done, but sections of the city still had pink and blue lights to their name. At most, the boy moved to get a better look at the ocean behind him. It didn't help. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see any more traces of Gallium Bay.
Wallace cleared his throat for the twentieth time. That pulled Chase's eye back to the pilot seat, but it didn't last. Once again, the cop couldn't offer a single word; at most, he only squeezed out some inelegant sounds. That gave him a massive edge over his copilot. Ed did everything she could to avoid acknowledging Chase even sat there. He wondered if her drunken rage still blinded her, but the longer he looked, the more he thought otherwise. He may have sat in the row behind her, but he had a clear enough view of her limp, deflated form. She could have passed for a puppet tossed into a trash can.
Chase stopped looking at her before he plunged into a depression. He looked out the window instead -- out, and down, as Wallace started the helicopter's descent toward a beachside helipad. Normally, the sight of the two that hailed him down would have lifted his spirits. But at that moment, he would have preferred going to sleep forever.
***
Silence reigned as Chase leaned against the car door. He welcomed it. By his guess, the alternative would have been riots and mass hysteria in the streets. But inside or out, everything had gone quiet; at most, only some awkward coughing from Lou and the rumble of his engine dared to disturb it. To celebrate, the boy sat there and watched as one street lamp after another streaked by.
No one said a word. Not even Ash. At best, the two of them shared fleeting glances. At worst, she refused to look at anything besides whatever zoomed past her window. Chase didn't blame her. He didn't feel like dealing with her jokes, but more than anything, he expected her to lash out. Tell him off. Rage, insult, shout down. Yet she didn't. At all.
The car's gradual halt took Chase by surprise. He looked up and saw Lou had parked right next to his building; his home, and Kira, were minutes away. "Well. We're here," said Lou. "End of the line."
Chase nodded at him.
"Hey. Uh -- I know it's not much, but --" Lou handed Chase a lollipop. Watermelon-flavored. "Nothing cheers kids up like candy, right?"
Chase stared blankly at the lollipop.
"Okay, never mind. Just -- we'll talk tomorrow, then. See ya."
That got another nod from Chase, but no words. He opened the door and started to slide out like hot syrup. He didn't get far. Ash leaned over and clutched his hand tight, with that lollipop forced into his grip. Even though he looked back at her, she didn't say a word. Neither did he. He'd never seen her make that face before -- so distraught, yet sincere, and as warm as her hand. He hoped he'd never have to see it again. But before long, he clasped her hand right back -- tight, with fingers entwined, for seconds that wore on and on.
When they broke their grip, he took Lou's lollipop. Shut the door. Waved goodbye as they drove off. And, thankfully, came one step closer to ending the longest night of his life.
***
No matter how hard he tried, the words didn't come to Chase. He let out another long sigh as he made his trek through the complex. Through the halls. Up the stairs. Past doors, even though it felt as if he waded through a swamp.
He knew who waited for him. When he made it through, what could he say? What could he do? He couldn't decide, partly -- if not mostly -- because he didn't want to think anymore. He'd done enough for ten lifetimes. But no matter what ran through him, and no matter how much he dragged his body along, he made it eventually. He opened his door and shut it behind him -- while Kira sat directly across from him, arms folded tight and legs crossed.
Chase stared at Kira.
Kira stared right back, with twenty times the intensity, and eyes darker than any shadow that filled the apartment.
Chase blinked first. "On a scale of one to ten, how grounded am I?"
Kira's glare grew exponentially darker.
"Eleven? Okay. That's fair."
"Are you hurt?"
Chase gave his bandages a look. "Not as much as before."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
Kira blinked slowly. When her eyes reopened, the light returned, while her posture relaxed. "You had me worried."
"I know." Chase broke eye contact. "Sorry."
No response.
"I really screwed things up. I'm sorry. And not just for what happened tonight. For everything. I'll try and do better, so --"
"Chase."
"Yeah?"
Kira sighed. "Right now, you don't have to say a thing. Get some rest, and we'll figure out what to do tomorrow." She glanced aside. "Together. As family."
Chase rubbed his neck.
She pointed to his door. "Go. Sleep."
"Okay."
"I love you, Chase."
The words bounced off Chase's back as he set a hand on his doorknob. "Yeah. Thanks." As soon as he shut his door, he threw himself onto his bed -- and his wounds' sting made him regret it instantly. But the pain dulled eventually. When it did, he spread out his limbs and stared blankly at the ceiling. It didn't last, of course. His dumpster of a brain wouldn't allow it. His eyes wandered aimlessly, to the clutter that he'd refused to clear out for days. To the plastic robots, perfectly posed for battle. To the homework on his desk he still hadn't finished. All familiar. All his. All part of home -- a place that felt emptier than ever.
Wounded or not, he had a feeling he wouldn't get in a wink. So, he tugged his phone out of his pocket and dragged his fingers across the screen to type.
"Summer Blossoms."
Within seconds, Chase had the music video loaded up. A grainy, discolored show began in front of him -- a static-filled relic pulled from miles below the earth. The band members all greeted him, even if the loudness of their aesthetic nearly booted him skyward. Big hair. Leather jackets and acid-washed jeans. Big hair. Studded belts and bracelets that tried, and failed, to pull the eyes away from the gaudiest bandannas and undershirts imaginable. And the hair.
If he could summon the will for it, Chase would have either laughed or groaned -- at least before he shut off the video and banished it from his mind. Yet he watched regardless. Even if the sight of the five-man band made him want to retch, their soothing acoustics helped him stay. For seconds at a time, it felt like he stood there on the sunset-drenched beach alongside them.
The feeling didn't last. Starla Michaels showed up onscreen. And all at once, Chase thought he'd been struck by lightning.
He almost mouthed out Kira's name, but froze midway. She looked like Kira. Almost exactly like Kira; at most, they only had a handful of millimeters and hues separating them. Yet that ancient version had an air, an aura about her. Skin left radiant from the sunset's kiss. Fluttering hair and green eyes that glistened in what remained of the light. The cheer and boundless energy that turned every motion of her sylphlike form into a dance. And dance she did, so confidently clad in that two-piece swimsuit -- the purest of whites, offset only by pink hibiscus prints. All of it, capped with an ivory flower in her hair.
Chase looked into her face, again and again, whenever Hot Zone didn't intrude. He refused to believe that smile had come from Earth -- only from some distant planet, as it shone brighter than any moon. One tooth alone could have lit up the sky; arranged into that smile, so keen to delight, and beckon, and revel in life, they outstripped constellations.
By the time Chase found the power to move again, he realized far too late that the video had ended. He had the instinct to watch it again. He would have, if his first instinct hadn't beat it out. He switched tabs and ran a search for Starla.
It didn't take long to get results. A basic glance told him the obvious: she'd become an actress, model, singer, dancer, and more, right down to a brief stint as a bowler. Yet he cut a layer deeper. She'd done plenty with her life, but without any of the fame to show for it. Only factoids and answers to obscure trivia questions. By the looks of it, she rarely, barely made it past the level of extra. A D-lister, at best.
He cut deeper. Everything she'd shown up in had either faded into obscurity, or sat at the bottom of countless lists and rankings. He'd never seen a review as savage as the one for The Terrible Titanic Terror; the only compliment to its name was "the bikini-clad girl on the poster".
He cut deeper one more time. And whatever fuel Chase had left in the tank emptied out.
Starla Michaels had died in a plane crash years ago.
The reports explained, callously, that she decided to take an unplanned trip to some tiny town in the south. Apparently, she had used the words "one very special girl" and "my biggest fan" to justify her venture. After that, the quantity and quality of info on her waned. Interviews. Performances. Guest appearances. None of them lasted, or proved substantial. Only tidbits, stapled onto main events and bigger names at best. Chase halfheartedly skimmed through; his thumb worked ten times harder than his eyes or brain.
He wished his brain would stay or focused on that, or anything else. If it didn't -- when it didn't -- he thought back to that smile. Not Starla's, of course. The real one. The smile that moved his scarred, crusty heart. The smile that that "biggest fan" wanted so desperately to have. The smile she gave to so many people, no matter how much hatred she bore. The smile that miraculously, yet consistently, shone brighter than Starla's.
And he had taken it away from her.
Forever.
Chase stared at the phone for a while longer. When the weight grew too much for him, he let his arm fall lifelessly onto the bed, then splayed his arms and legs like a dried starfish. Another sigh made it out of his mouth for the night -- but not before the worst pain of his life locked his heart in a bear trap.
Before long, he couldn't take it. He rolled out of bed. Lurched out of his room. Slogged to Kira's door, and gave it a knock.
Kira opened the door slowly. "Chase? What is it?"
Chase didn't say a word. He looked up at her for as long as he could, then threw his arms around her. As he hugged her -- as she hugged him back -- he let the tears flow.
***
"Ms. Haywood? Can you hear me?"
Rosie lifted her head -- barely a twitch for her, but hundreds of feet to everyone else on the planet. Her ears hadn't deceived her. She traced the flight of a metal eagle, clad in black and chrome armor yet trimmed with neon orange. As it glided past, she stuck out a hand to allow a proper landing. It had plenty of room for that; it couldn't have been any bigger than a car.
"Okay, that's good. Just don't drop this machine, or -- uh -- wow. Sorry, I -- I'm still trying to adjust here. I can't believe how big you are now, ma'am. Not that that's a bad thing. Well, I'm sure it's going to cause some, er, problems along the way, but -- oh, jeez. I'm really bad at this. Ms. Moralez, could you take the controls and -- ow!"
Rosie stared at the eagle without so much as a blink.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it! Sorry." The eagle's eyes twinkled; beams shot into Rosie's palm, and projected a hologram of a spineless gofer. "Let's start over, then," said Henry. "Um, hi there. How are you?"
Rosie stared on, unmoved.
"Right. Stupid question." Henry tugged on his collar. "Well, you're probably wondering what's going on. Ms. Moralez had a spare Kernel, and it turns out she's pretty good with it. I tried my hardest to make something pop out, but she created this on her first try. Granted, she's having me remotely pilot this drone from the city outskirts -- something about me needing to 'man up', and with this being my idea and all, there's -- I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry."
Rosie shook her head -- faintly and feebly, but it still counted.
Henry sighed. "The truth is, I -- I don't know what I'm doing. I thought that if I could reach out to you, everything would be all right. That I'd be able to wipe all your troubles away. But I guess that's downright delusional." He held up his hands and shook them rapidly. "Ah, I mean -- it's not like things can get any worse! Not because of me! Oh, or because of you, either! I'm sure that -- well -- oh, jeez, I'm no help at all."
Rosie's gaze wandered toward the moon.
"All right, you know what? Forget it. I wanted to give you a message, so here it is." Henry cleared his throat. "I hope you don't mind me saying this, ma'am, but -- I -- I actually, um, think you're beautiful. I have since the moment I first laid eyes on you."
That brought Rosie's eyes back down. Even in hologram form, she made out the blush in Henry's face.
"Oh, but that's just an observation of mine! And it's not like that's the only reason I like you! Er, not 'like' as in love or anything -- although I'd be more than happy to -- uh -- ah!" Henry slapped himself. "The point is! Even if the circumstances haven't been in your favor, I've enjoyed your company! I've liked being around you, and liked you because of who you are!" He fidgeted at a furious pace. "You're charming. Kind. Gentle. Spirited. Pure of heart. So, you can think of me as a witness to your good deeds. To your commitment to doing the right thing, for everyone's sake."
Henry stopped fidgeting. Though he didn't dare look up at Rosie, he at least gave his fingers a warm smile. "Just a few days ago, my life, and my world, seemed much darker. But then you showed up. You may have shaken everything I'd built up so far -- poorly -- but I think that's for the best. If I hadn't met you, I would have kept being a slave to a jerk like Corbyn, or whoever else took his place. And sure, you made me go through some scary stuff, but it brought excitement to my life. I tried my first beer! Got into my first fight! Saw a battle on a citywide scale! Met some incredible people! Traveled from one corner of this city to another! And of course, got my first kiss ever -- and from a true beauty. Ah -- sorry, there I go again, dwelling on your looks. I'm just glad Sister Mabel isn't here right now. She'd give me a good whacking."
Rosie saw that get a laugh out of Henry. She didn't join in.
"I'm sorry you've had to go through so much. If I could save you, right here and now, I would. But I can't. All I can do is offer up some kind words." Henry looked up at Rosie in full, no matter the distance between them. "You reached out to me again and again. Changed my life in ways I never thought possible. Not just with your size, or power, or anything like that. It was with your heart. The more I think about you, the happier I get. So, let me return the favor." He tugged the corners of his lips upward. "Don't worry. Just smile."
Rosie looked on in silence.
"Ah. It's not a good look for me, is it?" Henry dropped his hands, but gave her a natural, genuine smile nonetheless. "No matter what happens, you have the right to smile and be happy. And I hope that you can keep on smiling. Because, well, even if it's just wishful thinking, I think that your story isn't over. There has to be a way for you to live on, no matter what size you are. I don't know how. I don't know what it'll take. But the answer's out there somewhere, along with your happy ending. So, don't give up. Don't be sad. Stay strong, and look forward to the day when you can smile again." Henry stretched his hand as far as it would go. "I'll be waiting. After all, you still have parts to audition for, right?"
Rosie stared at Henry -- at that smiling hologram who offered her the world. She didn't get up from that spot. Didn't roll over and go to sleep. Didn't jump for joy, hype herself up, or anything. The drive to do any of that didn't even begin to run through her. Instead, after a full minute of silent staring, she did the only thing she that came to mind.
She clamped her hand shut and crushed the drone. Once she opened it -- once she watched the last glimmers of stardust vanish in the wind -- she buried her face in her knees.