Chapter Text
Our country calls for heroes, / And who is a hero now,
With no fear in his eyes, / And no shade of disguise,
With a purpose upon his brow?
—Amos R.Wells, from A Song of Heroes
Dark.
Empty.
Floating?
Maybe. Marie couldn’t remember, her mind was sluggish. How did she get here...where was 'here?' No sight. No sound. It was comfortable, though, in a lethargic sort of way.
Oh, she recognized this feeling now: she’d almost died. She must have expended too much light and passed out. She hadn’t done that in a while. Distantly she wondered what she’d been doing, definitely something important…
That's right, the hero. She’d been saving a hero. Someone important, anyway, she was pretty sure. She hoped he was still alive, it would be a shame to have put that much effort and light into him and have him still die, she thought vaguely.
Then Marie remembered something else. If she’d passed out, that was probably bad. Especially if her thoughts were this passive, this languid. She asserted herself in her own mind and began meticulously forcing her thoughts into order, pulling her memories back into something that made sense. She needed to remember what had happened, or at least how it had come to this...
He’d lost a lot of light. It was hard for the head medic to perceive more than that with everyone talking at once. The men who’d brought him in were desperate, more scared than she often saw, and it was clear that whoever’s body this was, he was important to them.
“Please,” one broke through, eyes desperate and pleading. “Can you help him? He beat Empera, he deserves a chance. We heard you were the best medic on the planet, we thought...”
Here one of Marie’s nurses stepped in, carefully taking the limp body from his arms. “If you could wait outside the tent, please, sirs. Chief Marie needs space to work.”
Another soldier, from his posture and age probably a commander, shook his head firmly. He was tall, head and shoulders above the rest, and a voice that, while not loud or resonant, commanded attention. “I’m not leaving him. He’s my friend, he wouldn’t leave me if it happened to me.”
Marie helped lift the body to an empty cot, put up the privacy shield around it, then turned to address the commander. “Sir, I thank you for your service. I promise you I will do everything in my power to help your friend, but I can’t use my full power if other people are around to absorb the excess light energy.” Actually, her head was just aching from the length of the workday and the sheer number of casualties that day, and she wouldn’t be able to focus with an anxious commander hanging over her shoulder. But it was a technical truth, at least.
A sound of frustration escaped the Ultraman, but he turned and left, adding over his shoulder, “Fine. Just tell me when he’s well enough for me to knock some sense into that thick skull of his.”
Marie wasn’t sure she’d ever understand how male friendship worked. She quietly thanked the assistant nurses as they ushered the other soldiers away, then turned and went to examine her patient.
Looking at him, she turned over her thoughts in her head. So this was the Ultra who had challenged Alien Empera to single combat...and succeeded. This man had possibly just ended the entire war. But it had obviously cost him a great deal; the most obvious injury was the gash on his hip, still seeping light. Looking at the wound itself, she could tell that if he hadn't been very skilled, or very lucky (though she suspected both), Empera’s sword could have very well slashed him in half. Speaking of which, one of his horns was cracked, and she could only hope the damage was more superficial than it looked; ultra-horn damage was...tricky, to fix. Sensory horns were specialized enough by their very nature that if they weren’t healed correctly, it could be debilitating. Usually, she’d have needed to start with the horn simply because of that, to make sure he didn’t lose the use of it, or prevent the trauma the feedback loop of a damaged horn could cause. But at that moment, it was more important to make sure he lived at all. If his eyes or timer had any light, it was too dim to see, having gone dark long ago.
Perhaps he was already dead. Or perhaps just too far gone; only a miracle could save him now.
Marie, however, specialized in those.
She spread her arms, allowing her light energy to dissipate through the air and rain down on the body in front of her. Slowly—painfully slowly—she helped the wound at his hip stitch itself back together, fingertips conducting the flow of light, barely brushing the skin. There would be a scar, one that would probably last the rest of his life. Which wouldn’t be that long if Marie didn’t focus.
The edges of the gash abruptly sparked with energy, and Marie quickly checked the surge. That...wasn’t her energy signature. That was light pulsing from the lifeless figure, as if trying to help her. How did he still have the power to do that?...was that light familiar? She searched her memory and eventually decided she must have seen him once or twice in the past, before the war started, but that was the limit of her acquaintance. “Save your strength,” she said aloud, “you must rest if you are to survive this. I can heal your wounds, but your desire to live is all I need from you right now.” Marie had been a medic for a long time, longer than some of her younger nurses had been alive. Never had she met someone who so strongly resisted his own limitations and continued to fight.
Intriguing.
So much so that she didn’t listen to the buzzing fog in her head warning her that she was overextending her power. She didn’t know for certain how or when she’d ended up on one knee, only that she hadn’t finished her work yet. She tried to get up, stumbled, then decided she could still work from here. She focused on re-knitting the internal damage—two cracked ribs, forearms scorched and blistered from overtaxing his Spacium glands, bruises of more shapes and sizes than she liked to think about, the one cracked horn that took just a little more finesse…
Ah. Yes, that would have done it. And then she must have passed out and come here, to this sheltered little corner of her mind.
She realized she didn’t know if she’d actually finished the procedure. A flash of something like panic set Marie in motion and she pushed back against the darkness and lack of sensation, trying to force her way back to her body to finish her work.
Dark. Empty. Floating? No, falling now, infinitely heavy, couldn’t push her mind enough to...to…
What had she been doing?
Maybe she prayed, but she couldn’t remember. All she knew was that she needed to go back. And distantly, very distantly, she thought she heard a scream. A voice, coming closer, chastising her for...something. She couldn’t think what. Thoughts too muddled, head pounding too hard to—she could feel her head. She could hear.
Marie felt her eyes start to glow again and a trickle of warmth as something fed healing, rejuvenating light into her system. Someone’s color timer beeped sickeningly in her ears, and it took her too long to realize it was her own. Her stomach gave a halfhearted heave, but she lacked the strength and inclination to be sick.
“—always knew you’d work yourself to death, Marie,” a familiar voice made it through the haze. “I just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon.”
“Ami?” As her vision started to focus, Marie recognized her sister’s face, deep-set eyes hard from years of worry. I hadn’t known she was in the area, she thought dimly. Or that she had time to be here. Not with the war and...well, everything.
“You nearly completely depleted your light energy,” Ami said sharply, and something in her tone added a piercing note to the headache that was quickly setting in. That sounded more like her big sister.
Marie winced at the static tingle in her hands and feet; the light was starting to return to her limbs, and she realized her sister and a nurse she didn’t immediately recognize were both donating some of their light. She wanted to convey some semblance of gratitude, but the first words out of her mouth were: “Is...is he alright?”
“He is.” A new voice spoke now, deep and unfamiliar and very, very tired. Marie glanced around her, trying to move slowly so it didn’t make her nausea worse, but she could only see Ami, the nurse, and… “I believe I owe you my life,” the Ultra added, though he hadn’t moved from where he lay. His color timer was now a clear, although dim, blue; nothing that rest, or some time in light therapy, wouldn’t be able to remedy.
Marie struggled to her feet, and for some semblance of dignity. She instantly stumbled, but Ami caught one arm and gingerly propped her up, still radiating disapproval. When she was more sure of her footing, Marie managed a shallow bow to the Ultra warrior. “I’m glad you’re alright. Too many lives have been lost already, and I am grateful that one more life has been saved.”
Slowly he sat up, waving away the nurse who tried to stabilize him. He felt gingerly at his no-longer-cracked horn, as if making sure it was still attached. Slowly, his gaze searched the enclosure. “The most important thing now is to ensure no more lives are lost. Alien Empera has gone into hiding, but he’s still out there. He could attack again. And all of us must be...ready...” His gaze finally focused on Marie, and for just a moment she could see...something? She wasn’t sure what that expression indicated, though ‘stricken’ was pretty close. Before she could decide, he hurriedly averted his gaze and seemed to force himself to swing his legs over the side of the cot to stand.
Marie’s movement was automatic. Before she knew she’d moved, she was at his side and gently pushing him back to sit down again. “You aren’t in any shape to be going anywhere, sir. You’ll be alright once you’ve had some rest, and passing out half-dead is no substitute for real sleep.” Not that she knew this from experience or anything.
The larger Ultra (when he’d been lying down unconscious he hadn’t seemed that big, but now that he was awake, he had an unexpected...Presence, to him that she couldn’t quite place) stiffened at the touch. “Ma’am, you...that is, I, I need to…” he gesticulated with one hand in something that probably meant that he needed to go somewhere, but really could have meant anything. Eventually, he managed, “There are people out there who need me, miss. M-my team.” His face had gone deep red, and Marie worried he was exerting himself too soon.
“Those people need you in one piece,” Marie soothed, gently pressing him to lie down again. The poor fellow had gone entirely tense, though; perhaps he wasn’t used to being told not to rush off into more hero-work. At least it was enough to distract her from her own lingering dizziness. “The squadron we found with you has all been taken in and cared for. They didn’t report anyone missing.”
Ah, that did something. His gaze snapped to hers again as if he’d forgotten...whatever had made him so uncomfortable moments before. “Everyone is safe? Belial’s okay?”
Marie nodded. “All of them are safe, you were the worst off by far. I think your Belial was the one asking after you, he didn’t want to leave.” There was something about his obvious concern for his teammates that was refreshing to see in someone of his rank; she could see why those men had been so devoted to him. She put a hand to his shoulder. “You should rest, get your strength back. When you wake up, go to the Plasma Spark tower and replenish your energy reserves.” She glanced down at her hands. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to restore that completely.”
The look she got in response was one of complete bewilderment, intermixed with gratitude and some of whatever that first expression had been. “Why are you sorry? You saved my life. If I’d died I couldn’t have told—“ his eyes widened and he shot to his feet. “ULTRAMAN KING!!!”
The name was exclaimed so abruptly that for a moment the only explanation Marie could think of was that King himself had just strode into the tent. But he hadn’t. Not that she could see, anyway. Marie took hold of the Ultra warrior by both shoulders (he had risen so rapidly to his feet that he was now in danger of falling on his face, and she'd just fixed that), and she made him sit down again. “Please try not to make too many sudden moves, sir. You could reopen your hip.”
But the horned Ultra, too agitated now to even pretend to rest quietly, quickly elaborated. “Ultraman King appeared, I mean. After I fought Empera, I saw him. He called for an alliance of Ultras to form a proper organization to fight for peace in our galaxy, and in others.” He hesitated, seeming to consider something for the first time. His eyes flicked to the medals she wore, perhaps recognizing the position they signified as the highest honors available for a military medic. “It...It would benefit all of us to have an official medical division for our Garrison, if you would join our efforts for peace.”
“By the Light, let her rest a moment before throwing something like that at her,” Ami interjected. She turned to her sister, adding more quietly, “I know you’d love the chance to do more hero-work, but please, try and make sure you don’t kill yourselves doing it?”
Marie smiled at her sister gratefully. “I’ll be careful. But...we’ve needed to be more proactive in protecting the Light in the universe for a long time now. If this is how we’re called to help, how can we refuse?” She turned back to the Ultra Warrior, hands clasped formally in front of her. “If that will be the best use of my skills, I will be happy to serve.”
“Given the state I was in,” he commented, one hand feeling again at the horn that had been cracked almost in half; now barely a scratch showed the former injury. “...I would say you’re more than qualified. Perhaps the medical division should be named for you?”
Marie blinked at that, coloring, then saw the glint in his eyes of an unexpected levity. He seemed far more at ease than he had moments before, and she wasn’t quite sure how to categorize him. But as for the medics, she’d given them a name long ago, even if she’d never spoken it aloud. She spoke decisively: “The medical division should be named the Silver Cross Corps, so that everyone who hears it will know that Ultras are there not just to fight evil, but to heal and cherish what is good.” She put her arms up as though to fire a Spacium beam. “So that when they see the Silver Cross, they know they are safe.”
She didn’t tell him who it was named for. But she saw her sister stiffen in her peripheral vision and knew she understood. Cross would be honored.
Though, to be fair, Cross probably would have preferred it be named after Marie, but he wasn’t around to object. The horned Ultra slowly nodded. “The Silver Cross Corps? A good name for a good cause.” He started to stand up again but this time Marie was able to stop him with a look. Despite begrudgingly settling back again, he spoke. “Empera is gone, but his generals will continue to fight. We won’t be at peace until we have cleansed the galaxy of their entire army. I wish I could say the fighting is over...but this might be the beginning of a new war.”