1:23 AM 08/02/2004 {Summer of 2004}
Ms. Marietta Perry
Marietta had been awake for a little over ten minutes, but she'd found it hard to get the strength to get up. Lincoln had a death grip on the hug he'd given her as they'd gone to sleep, and his mind had become stable.
Not in the medical sense, but in the emotional one, his mind giving off warm signals, stemming and centered around well, her warmth.
She didn't really know what to make of it, but she knew she wanted him to feel better, no matter the cost. So she lied here, wondering how he was so strong for a kid who resembled a scarecrow.
Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but he was a thin, weedy kind of kid.
Maybe the reason she didn't get up, and draw a line in the sand for what she considered to be overly affectionate with someone who would likely latch onto the first reliable figure in his life that showed him the slightest bit of affection, was maybe in part- because of her shame.
She'd proven exactly why she'd never let herself get this involved. Her powers acted against her, yet she couldn't ever know if they'd nearly ruined, or saved Lincoln's life.
His power was dangerous. To him, most of all, she realized. The memory retention he'd been showcasing- it must've locked in body in a state of perpetual- flight or fight, making his body physically respond to the memories playing during his sleep- almost suffocating him despite all signs of a panic attack, that by all means- should've passed, allowing him to breathe.
All of that, and it wasn't him, that had shattered- no. It'd been her.
She'd become so overwhelmed, and broke.
And it hadn't been a co-worker, or friend that had helped her feel better, but the kid whose life had been recently up-ended, and well, frankly, fucked.
She was ashamed on his behalf- there had been many, many failures to have led to the events that took place tonight, and she was determined not to contribute to that.
She chuckled weakly into the darkness of the room, thanking god that at least this had happened later on in the day, when the patients were mostly asleep, and the nurses weren't checking in as often, especially not Lincoln's room, as he'd been relegated to lower-risk, as he'd healed quite a bit.
Mostly in part due to her efforts to muddy the waters when it came to Lincoln. Even giving him too much attention had to be avoided- after all, that would imply that there was something to take notice of.
As far as anyone past her and perhaps- the EMTs and handful of doctors that had managed to glean anything from Lincoln- knew, he was just a terribly hurt kid.
She knew better, though. Her mind wandered to the meeting with the Willows, and the way he glowed when talking about comics, and heroes, and how much of a difference there was between his smile and the stone like expression he wore at all times, like a little robot boy.
The thought made her laugh, a little.
The small movement of her laugh seemed to alert Lincoln's senses, and he held on even tighter, burrowing his head into her hair, whining like a little kid.
Which he was, she'd realized again, feeling another wave of shame flood her mind.
He really was just a little kid.
Here she was, complicating his life even more.
She couldn't be in his life forever, but it'd been weeks, and he'd grown on her. That didn't change the fact that he'd be moving in with the Willows soon, and she didn't know how her absence would affect him, as she suspected he'd come to depend on her, as tonight proved.
She would have to get him as dependent to the Willows, but something told her it wouldn't work out well, especially with how honest she'd been with him about the reasons why they'd been looking for a son.
She didn't regret it though, as she'd found that being honest with kids like him, who'd either come from broken homes, or systems like foster care, appreciated- no- needed honesty above all.
Then it hit her. If she let him rely on her, it would do more harm then good. At least, that was what her logical side said, clashing with her desire to hold the fractured kid tight, and help him at any cost.
Slowly but surely, the logical side won over, and she looked at the idea of distancing herself from him as- well, the lesser evil.
It was for his own good.
She sighed, and realized that it was about time to leave. It was harder than she'd anticipated, prying off his arms, as she slipped off the bed, and composing herself.
She absentmindedly considered taking some time off of work to fully disentangle herself from everything, feeling especially cold as she gathered her things and made her way out the dark room, hoping that he'd be okay.