Page 113 of Runaway Magic
Fourteen kept his arm where it was.
Cym glared at him and said, “Fine. What are you doing here, Sterling?” He went on his toes so he could see over Fourteen’s arm.
“I came to bring you home. Without that asshole, if possible. You don't need him anymore.”
“Yeah, no. That won’t be happening.” Cym clamped himself onto Fourteen’s side, and their unspokenno-intimacy in front of strangersplan went right out the window.
It was a stupid idea, looking back. Fourteen was pretty certain that it was an important part of self-actualization to be able to recognize bad ideas when they happened and discard them at will. Now that he thought about it, if Cym wanted to cling to him, it was okay by him. In fact, if Cym wanted to climb inside Fourteen’s clothes, as long as he could keep his hands free to fight, he would comply.
Cym hung on tightly as he continued to speak, and Fourteen dropped his arm to wrap it around him. “I can't go back with you. That’s not my home anymore.”
“You’re damn right it’s not,” Fourteen growled.
“Don’t be an idiot, Cym. The Stillbringer can’t run around with a norm. If you come back to the Blaike estate, we have the resources to help you. The family wants you to come back, and they sent me here to bring you home. Don’t you see? It’s all over. The family is safe again. You can come back and forget this bullshit with Hester ever happened.”
“Forget?” Cym pulled away from Fourteen, and Fourteen reeled him back in for safekeeping. “You want me to forget being abandoned to rot by my family? So that they can use me and trot me around as their fancy new showpiece? I don’t even know what the Stillbringer is supposed to do, and you think I can trust the family not to take advantage of that? After what they let happen to me?”
“Cym…” Sterling went from being righteously indignant to being a lost kid in an instant. “I just want things to be like they were. I want to make things better.”
“You can’t. Even if it were possible to give me back my childhood, it’s not your job to fix this. If you really want to help, don’t let a bunch of old, crusty assholes put words into your mouth to try and trick me into coming back. Learn to think for yourself, and don’t let them use you.”
Sterling was left gaping at Cym like the dumbass Fourteen had taken him for.
“Well fucking said, Cym!” Jack held up a massive hand for a high-five. Cym gave Fourteen a glance before holding up his hand and smacking it gently. “We’re gonna need to work on that upper body strength of yours, though. You won’t be able to fight for shit the way you are now.”
Fourteen stared Jack down as he said, “He’s fine the way he is.” Cym didn’t need to be able to fight. He had Fourteen for that now.
Cym didn’t seem to have an opinion on the matter, because he turned to Marshall and asked, “What is the Stillbringer supposed to do, anyway? I get that I’m a conduit to infinite power, but what does that mean?”
Marshall, who’d been leaning quietly against a wall and watching the drama unfold, perked up. It was a bit like seeing a teacher who’d been watching his students exercise the rudimentary skills he’d taught them realize it was time for him to step in.
“You don’t have to do anything, Cym. Your life is yours to live. The only obligation you have to the Other is to learn control. Otherwise, how you use your power is up to you.”
“That makes no sense at all, Marshall. What if I decided to rule the world?”
Marshall laughed. “The Source wouldn’t have chosen you if you were that kind of person. A person doesn’t get chosen to be Stillbringer to become a ruler or a saint. They’re chosen because they are the right person to help keep the balance. No one can tell you what to do because no one can know what you need to do but you. If you’re needed in a situation, you go there instinctively and help in whatever way necessary. It’s just who you are.”
“Nope. Nuh-uh. I reject this. I don’t know how to instinctively do anything, Marshall. Zero skills going on in here.” Cym gestured toward his head with the hand not currently wrapped around Fourteen’s hip. “Seriously, I am almost completely useless.”
“Bullshit,” Fourteen said without hesitation.
“You’re right, Fourteen. Strength training can wait until Cym gets in some serious hug therapy. I’m really good at that if you need instructions.” Jack draped an arm around Marshall’s shoulders as if to give an example. Then he reached out to Adelle to drag her in as well. He squeezed the siblings against his massive chest and ignored their protests until he seemed satisfied he’d gotten the point across.
“Pass.” Fourteen was pretty sure if Jack hugged Cym like that he’d crush him to death. “I’ll take care of any hugging that’s necessary.”
“Fine. I’ve got my hands full with Marshall anyway.” Jack released Adelle but gave Marshall another spine-popping hug before releasing him.
Adelle moved out of hugging distance and brushed off her clothes and hair, acting like a cat who’d been mortally offended.
Marshall went back to his lecture like he was used to being manhandled on a regular basis. “No one is useless, Cym. Some people just haven’t found their passion yet. And the Source wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t right for the mantle of the Stillbringer. You’ve already proven you’ve got what it takes.You found me when I needed you most. I would have died if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”
“And me,” Fourteen said. “If you hadn’t found me right after my handlers died, I would have gone back to The Company, been debriefed, and probably wiped again.”
In hindsight, the timing had been uncanny. If Cym had run down that alley while Fourteen had been mid-mission and his handlers were still alive, Cym would likely have become a casualty, and Fourteen would never have known how close he’d come to his own salvation. It was possible that Steve or Frank would have ordered Fourteen to gun Cym down himself.
Fourteen tossed the emotions inspired by the thought to The Cold to let it deal with them. He wanted no part of that thought experiment.
Fourteen gave Cym an extra squeeze and it was returned two-fold.
