CHAPTER 42

"Hey Pete! We've got two more orders of sausage rolls!"

"What?" came the reply.

Aunt Janice muttered something under her breath about hearing aids before marching into the kitchen. Personally, Franklin thought the hearing issues stemmed from the constant yelling but when he'd tried bringing it up, they'd both yelled at him that they weren't yelling. It was hard to believe they'd been married over twenty years. What wasn't hard to believe as that Franklin's cousin Javicia had moved to England for university. Was probably the only place she couldn't hear them.

"Was Uncle Pete always like this?" Franklin asked as his mom finished up an order.

"Oh no. When we were kids, he was much louder. I think Janice mellowed him out a little over the years."

"This is him toned down?" Franklin asked in disbelief, watching his aunt and uncle arguing in the kitchen. If one didn't know better, they'd think the two were about to kill each other. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise Franklin at this point.

He was about to say something else when Angie appeared, bringing in some fresh rolls of bread. Franklin quickly made himself busy organizing the muffin display even though he'd already done that to the point where they couldn't possibly be any straighter.

"Ok seriously, what is going on with you two?" his mom asked.

"Nothing!" they both said.

"Really?" Franklin winced at the tone, knowing she was giving them both 'the look' at the moment, making him work on the muffins even more. "You haven't spoken to each other in weeks. That doesn't seem like 'nothing' to me."

"It's his fault," Angie said.

"She's the one doing it," Franklin said at the same time. They both shot a glare at each other before looking away.

Their mom sighed. "Alright, if you two can't behave civilly, then maybe it's best if you separate. But mark my words, this little tiff you have going on with each other is going to end. For now, Franklin take a break. You've done enough work for today."

Franklin took off his apron without a word and left, grateful. It had been almost four weeks now and Angie still barely said a word to him, just shot glares and looks in his direction. And honestly, after what she had said, he wasn't really in the mood to talk anyway. Instead, he spent most of his time in the basement, training his powers.

The punching bags didn't last long thanks to his strength. He'd tried packing them with rocks instead of sand but the bags just split open faster. So he'd just gotten a boulder and tried punching that. A few seconds later, it had turned to rubble so that was also out.

It had taken him a little while but he'd finally figured it out. Most of his life, he punched hard to increase his strength and durability. But he didn't need to do that anymore. In fact, he was aiming to not do that. So, instead, he put up the old punching bags again and focused on holding back enough so that he didn't put too much power into each swing. From then on, his training regimen had been easier to plan out. Instead of giving it his all, he began training himself on holding back. He got a large block of wood and began punching that as well, but made sure to only hit it enough that a small dent appeared. It was still a work in progress as it was hard to find the right stuff to train with. He'd had no idea what to do with his normal weights since he could lift all of them at once now with no problem. He eventually settled on using them for throwing, hurling them like Frisbees. The first one he'd used at max strength and it had smashed through a couple trees before lodging firmly in a third. From then on, he limited his strength with that as his baseline.

He still kept making mistakes though. He'd crushed his computer mouse the other day and now had to be super careful while using his touchpad. He'd cracked his phone screen by pressing too hard and had gone through another two toothbrushes. It was all so frustrating. People who dreamed of having superpowers clearly didn't think about how much of a pain it was to have them.

He stepped up to the punching bag and eyed it carefully before throwing a punch. He almost expected it to crash into the wall but instead it only swayed back a little before settling again, causing him to blink in surprise.

'You didn't put any weight into it.'

Franklin sighed. "I know. I'm just not feeling it."

'Well there's the problem right there. If you're not feeling, then you're not going to get anything done. You've got to feel the passion burning inside of you!'

Little Franklin stared up at his father with a raised eyebrow. 'Why would I have a passion to hit the bag though?'

His father paused, pondering that. 'Alright, fair point. Here's what we're going to do. Now, whenever I hit the bag, I imagine myself as Captain America, throwing haymakers at Hydra scumbags left and right. Really gets me going. Now you try.'

'But I don't really like Captain America.'

'That's heresy son. But fine. Who do you want to be?'

'Ooh, Green Lantern! John Stewart is the best!'

'You know what, he is the best isn't he? Good choice. Ok, now just imagine it. You're stranded on an alien world, monsters all around you. Your ring is powered down. All you got are your two fists in front of you. So, what do you do?'

'Heh,' little Franklin grinned. 'Fight!'

'Good. Now plant your feet firmly, right foot back. Like you're on a tram and want to keep your footing.' Little Franklin instantly tightened his stance. 'Now make a fist and curl your thumb. Never on the inside or you're liable to break it. Good. Bring it back right about here,' his dad said, moving his back to show him. Franklin copied, fist raised and ready. His dad then mimed the punch. 'Transfer the weight.'

'Huh?'

'Your weight is on your right foot right now, right?'

'…Huh?'

'Your weight is here, right?' his dad said, tapping Franklin's right foot which was behind the other one. When he nodded, his dad continued. 'When you throw a fist, transfer the weight of your body to your left foot. Gives you the power you need.'

'Oh, ok.' Franklin replanted himself and took a breath.

'Remember. You're John Stewart, trapped on an alien planet, fighting an alien horde. Now what are you going to do?'

'Fight!' little Franklin yelled, throwing his fist as hard as he could.

Franklin chuckled, his eyes watering a little as the memory faded. He'd forgotten about that. Or maybe just repressed it. So many of his memories of his father were filled with pain now. Just reminders of what he could never have again.

He suddenly didn't feel like punching anymore. Even if he hit with all his strength or held back enough to give it another freaking love tap, nothing would change. He would still be the same person with the same problems. Dead father, out of control powers, dangerous lunatic on the loose who almost certainly wanted him dead. None of that was going away from one punch.

At least Travis was doing something. He stopped by every now and then, placing an order and dropping by super-fast to get it and go. He'd even asked Franklin for help on which weights he should wrap around his arms and legs for training. Franklin had to admit, even if the idea of training to be a superhero was stupid, it was better than what he was doing. And besides, Travis wasn't training to be a superhero but rather training to fight supervillains such as Swarm. Something Franklin should be doing too considering how the last two fights went. But every time he thought about doing that, preparing to fight that maniac, he felt cold inside, like he was already dead and hadn't realized it yet. He could just imagine his coffin lowering into the ground, his mom and sister and aunt and uncle all around it, crying, just like they had for his dad's memorial. Or worse, Swarm completely obliterated him, not even leaving a body behind. That had been what had happened with his dad. The fire had been so powerful, there had been no body. Just ash.

Franklin groaned, rubbing his head. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Part of him wanted to help Travis but the other part of him wanted to ensure he stayed safe for his family. No matter what he did, he always felt guilty.

He wanted to talk to his dad. Whenever he felt lost or confused like this, he had turned to his dad. Maybe he had the answer and maybe he didn't, but just the way he listened and talked it out with Franklin made it feel better. Angie was refusing to talk to him and he couldn't very well talk to his mom about this. And definitely not Uncle Pete or Aunt Janice. He just wanted to talk to his dad. But they didn't even have a grave where Franklin could go and pretend for a little while that his dad was listening from the great beyond. All they had was…

He stopped, looking up. He hadn't even realized it but that was…well, it wasn't perfect but it was the best thing he had. He quickly got up and walked up the stairs.

"I'm heading out for a bit," he said as he passed through the deli.

"Ok. Not too late," his mother replied.

"Don't worry, I won't be." He stepped outside and followed his phone's map to the location. He didn't know if this would help or not but he needed this. More than he realized.

"Hey mom," Gabriela said, kneeling down in front of the gravestone. "I know it's been a while but things have been…well, really hectic recently. I don't even know where to start. Well probably my powers. Yeah, I have superpowers now." She lifted up her hand and gently released some energy into it, causing it to light up like a lightbulb. She still didn't know exactly what her powers were, some sort of energy manipulation it seemed. "I destroyed part of a bathroom with them. I'm getting better now, but I'm still worried. But that's not even the worst of it. Apparently, I'm not the only one."

She talked about the others and all their powers and about Swarm and his attack on the school. "I'm scared, mom. I don't know what to do about all this. There's no real guideline on how to go about your life with superpowers, unless I wanted to peruse comic books but even those are just fantasy. I…I don't know. I wish I knew what to do."

She breathed out and sat back a little, staring at the words printed on the gravestone:

CAMILLA FUENTES

BELOVED WIFE, MOTHER, AND DAUGHTER

'A BETTER TOMORROW IS ONLY REAL IF WE NEVER LOSE FAITH THAT IT WILL COME'

Gabriela remembered asking why those words were the ones added on and her father had explained that once, when he himself had lost hope that the world would ever be a good place, she had told him those words and what they meant to her. She had grown up in the slums of rural Pennsylvania, working every day throughout high school to support her dreams and through hard work managed to gain a scholarship to Penn State University where she had graduated with honors after more hard work.

"That woman did not tolerate the word 'quit' anywhere near her," her dad told her. "For her, quitting would be mean leaving behind everything she'd worked so hard for and everything she wanted to do. She planned on eradicating poverty worldwide. And one day, she found me, curled up with a bottle on the sidewalk. And while most people would just pass me by, instead she leaned over and asked, 'what's got you so down, chum?' to which I let loose a long tirade at how everything was pointless and it wasn't even worth it anymore. That was, I'm ashamed to say, my lowest moment. Well, she puffed up her cheeks, stood up straight and let me have it, saying if I didn't have faith in it anymore, then there really was no hope. She said if it seemed to not be worth it right now, then it was up to us to make it worth it. That's what she planned to do." Her dad chuckled. "She told me that I could either stay down on the sidewalk, feeling how pathetic I was, or get up and actually do something that would make the world a damn better place. I fell in love with her that day and from then on, worked hard to achieve that goal. I still believe in it too. A better tomorrow may be just on the horizon, but that doesn't mean it's unreachable. Your mother taught me that. And I hope you understand it too."

Gabriela did. Or, at least, she hoped she did. She tried to follow in her mother's footsteps, working hard each and every day. She knew their situations weren't the same, that if she had wanted she wouldn't have to work a day in her life while her mother had slaved to get to where she was. But that was the point. Her mother had worked so hard to make sure she didn't have to go through the same hardships. Well, Gabriela may not have to work hard but she wasn't raised to just sit back and take it easy. So she decided to work just as hard, if not harder, to try to fulfill her mother's dream. A better world for everyone so that no one had to work as hard as she did.

She had died when Gabriela was 10. It had been an accident. She had been driving home when the car next to her suddenly smashed into hers. The driver had had a massive stroke and lost control, causing them both to smash through the railing to the highway below. Neither had survived.

For a while after, both Gabriela and her dad had been a wreck. Gabriela had been lost, not knowing what she was supposed to do now. It had all felt…pointless. Her mom was dead. She would never see the dream of a better tomorrow, so why even fight for it? Why work so hard for something that might never come true?

"A better tomorrow isn't a dream. It's a promise we make to ourselves, to have each day be better than the last. If we keep that up, then the day will come when everyone has bright future."

Gabriela smiled, remembering when her mom had told her those words. It had been after she lost the 3rd grade spelling bee. She had studied so many words and worked so hard but had failed in the end. So she had complained that none of it was worth it if it didn't pay off. So her mom had taken her aside and explained to her the usual. That every failure was a lesson and that you grew stronger from it, things Gabriela had heard many times before from her teachers, her books, TV shows, advertisements, and even on the sidewalk.

But then her mom had told her that quote. "I know today didn't work out the way you wanted. But that just gives tomorrow a better chance of improving, doesn't it?" she'd asked.

Her mom's death had been the worst day of her life. And each day since then had felt progressively worse. But when she remembered that saying, she'd felt just the tiniest bit better. And with each day that passed, she felt she could breathe a little easier, the pain fading just enough. It would never truly disappear, and she didn't want it to, but it became more bearable. And she became more determined than ever to fulfill her mom's dream. If she wasn't going to be able to see it, then that just made it more important to make sure it came true.

It had been so long that Gabriela had completely forgotten that feeling of giving up, of feeling it was all pointless, until last week. Then Franklin reminded her. After that, Gabriela came here every day to just talk and each day, she felt more like her old self. She knew she had a long way to go but, it was helping.

"I haven't made too much progress on my speech," she confessed. "I know I said I would yesterday but things keep getting busier and every time I sit down to write, I still struggle with what I want to say. I mean, I kind of know what I want to say, but I don't…know how to write it down yet. That doesn't make much sense but…I'll get it. I know I will."

She huffed, crossing her arms. She wished she was as confident as she sounded. The student election was next week and so far she had a few lines and couple notes on what might come next. If she kept this up, Dredden would win for sure and then everything would be ruined. While he wouldn't have the authority to cancel clubs he didn't like (and she knew he would get rid of LGBTQIA+ without hesitation), he would still wield a lot of power and influence over the student body, something she couldn't allow. If she couldn't yet save the world from people like him, she could at least save her school.

That was all well and good, but she still didn't know what to say.

"I wish I could hear your advice," she said to the grave. "Dad always talks about all the amazing advice you gave him. I can only remember a handful of the ones you told me. Maybe you told me more and I forgot them or maybe I just didn't need them as much. I don't know which I prefer." She sighed. "I could really use your help mom. I can't tell dad about my powers. Honestly, if you were alive, I don't know if I'd tell you. Kind of awful of me to tell you stuff only after you're dead, huh? Sorry about that. It's just, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with them. I had my future all planned out and of course I know that something in life would have gotten in the way, it's just…I didn't think it would be something like this. And now everything's so much weirder and scarier and I really don't know what I should do about it all and I'm still scared about how I should write one freaking speech. I just…I could really use you on this mom."

With everything that had happened to her, Gabriela wondered if at this point it was out of the realm of possibility for her mother's voice to actually reach from the beyond to her. It might freak her out at first but she'd get over it.

But no. No matter what crazy superpowers actually existed, bringing back the dead would never be one of them.

There were many things Gabriela could recall. She knew every nook and cranny of the school, having learned it all in case anything happened during a student tour. She'd memorized every US president, vice president, senator, and congress member in history as well as their greatest deeds and accomplishments. And she knew every film starring Alicia Vikander, her celebrity crush. But her memories of her mother faded every day. She could still remember her mother's smile and could easily recall moments like her seventh birthday when she accidentally sneezed all over the cake and her mom laughed so hard she fell off her chair. But that was only one of a handful that Gabriela had left. The others were like photographs exposed to too much light, faded with little detail or clues as to what was happening.

"Thanks for listening mom," she said, standing up. "Don't worry, I'll figure something out. There's no way I'll let Dredden win." She let her fingers rest briefly on the top of the grave stone before walking away to the path leading out.

She wished she could believe her own words. No matter what she tried, she still just didn't have the same passion she once had. And if she didn't have it now, she wondered if she really could be the leader she wanted to be. She wanted to be president someday but if she fell apart like this over an election speech, how would she handle one of the biggest jobs in the world?

Gabriela paused, her train of thought getting derailed as she spotted a familiar figure walking into the cemetery. She blinked in surprise as he walked in and took a turn to the right on third row of graves, stopping halfway down. It was only when he kneeled down in front of one stone that she realized she really shouldn't be watching this. But if he noticed her, it might distract him and that was the last thing she wanted. She tried walking slowly and quietly away towards the gate.

"Gabriela?"

Damn, she thought before turning with a sheepish look. "Hey Franklin," she said in an overly cheerful voice. "What are you doing here?"

Franklin gave her a blank look. "What do you think I'm doing here?"

"Yeah, stupid question, I'm sorry," she huffed, her face flushing with embarrassment. "So, uh, if you don't mind me asking, who were they?" She gestured to the grave.

"My great-grandad," he replied. "Lawrence Carson. He fought in World War II I think."

"You think?"

He shrugged. "My dad always told me he was a hero in a war but never specified which one. Given the time frame, I just assumed it was World War II."

"Ok," she nodded but then frowned. "Wait, and I really mean no offense here, but why-"

"Am I visiting the grave of a man I almost certainly never knew?" Franklin finished for her, leaving her stumbling a little. "Fair point. It's cause this is the closest I have."

"To what?" she asked. He didn't answer though, just stared at the gravestone. She looked at him and then watched as he reached out and laid his hand on the stone reverently, like he was paying his respects. But he'd just said that he didn't know the guy. Not that he couldn't do it to an ancestor of his but he'd also said this was the closest…oh.

There weren't too many hobbies outside of her work that Gabriela enjoyed. However, she always loved puzzles. When she was younger, she spent hours putting together as many puzzles as she could. As she got older, she preferred riddles and games like Clue or Spy Alley or 221b Baker Street, the Sherlock Holmes game she adored, and other things that really made her think. She loved doing escape rooms, figuring out all the little clues and such with her friends. It got to the point where she was able to pick up and piece together random tidbits here and there about people to form a clear picture. And as she stood there, looking at Franklin, all her previous encounters with him came rushing back. How he had moved here but wasn't happy, his interaction with his family, the way he talked about therapy. It all pointed to him having gone through a traumatic event that forced him to move here. And there was one member of his family she hadn't seen.

"Your dad?" she asked softly.

Again, he didn't reply. He just nodded slowly, eyes never leaving the gravestone. Gabriela didn't say anything else. She just walked over and stood next to him.

During the funeral for her mom, so many people had said so many different things that they had blended together and she couldn't really remember who said what. But one memory stood out. It had been when Meredith had walked up and just wrapped an arm around her shoulders, not saying a word. She just let her know she was there.

So Gabriela carefully held her hand out and touched Franklin's shoulder. She saw his head turn slightly but he made no motion to shrug her off so she sent her whole arm around him. She wasn't able to reach all the way around him as he was too big but she hoped it was enough. It was nice, to do it for someone else.

They just stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. Gabriela knew, and she figured Franklin did as well, that words weren't really what mattered here. It was just letting people know that you were there for them. It was like the old saying that her mom liked to throw around sometimes. 'Actions speak louder than words.'

She looked at the stone, reading the inscription on it. 'Lawrence Carson, 1909 – 1945. Unbendable, Unbreakable, Unstoppable.'

"Thanks," Franklin said after a few more moments.

"Any time," she replied, looking aside as he wiped his eyes.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, who were you visiting?"

Gabriela hesitated for a second. "My mom."

She didn't really want to see Franklin's expression but she heard his tiny bit sharper intake of breath. Then his arm slid over her shoulders, though thankfully he didn't drape it over them or else she felt she might collapse from the weight.

"How long ago?" he asked.

"About six years now."

"Does…does it ever get easier?"

She paused, not quite sure what the appropriate response to that was. "No, not really," she settled on. "It's just always there, you know?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I do."

They stayed there maybe another ten minutes before they both silently decided to leave, walking off together. "So why now?" Gabriela asked as they left the cemetery.

Franklin shrugged. "I don't know. With everything so…hectic now, I just needed something soothing or calming I guess. Something that really reminded myself of him."

"I'm sorry you had to move away from his grave," she said. To her that was one of the worst things about his situation (other than his dad's death of course). She didn't know she would be able to handle it if she was forced to move away from her mom's grave. It would be almost comparable to losing her all over again.

"My dad doesn't have a grave," Franklin told her. "The fire was too powerful. All we got was…a bit that was practically cremated already. So we should just had it spread over the family tree."

"The family tree?" she questioned.

"Yeah. It's a huge maple tree in my Grandma's backyard. Apparently it was planted by an ancestor of mine back in the 1800s. Whenever a Carson family member dies, they have the option of getting cremated and having their ashes spread along its roots, to become part of the tree essentially." He shrugged again. "Honestly, I kind of prefer that then having my body decompose in a box over the years."

Gabriela tilted her head, nodding a little. That did sound a bit better, though the thought of her body being next to her mom's didn't sound so bad.

Of course, as soon as she thought of that, her mind was filled with Swarm and his attack and how he was still out there, just waiting to strike again and kill them this time.

"Hey," she said suddenly, anxious to change the subject and get her mind off all that, "so that saying on the stone. Is that your family…"

"Motto?" he finished. "Yeah, it kind of is."

Gabriela nodded. "Pretty cool. 'Unbendable, Unbreakable, Unstoppable.' What's the story behind that?"

"It actually has to do with the family tree as well. My ancestor back then, Jesse Carson, was a former slave. But then he managed to run away to Canada. A little after that, the Civil War broke out and he signed up for the Union Army. The war managed to bring him down south back to the farm he was enslaved in and he freed everybody else, including my great-something-grandma. When the war ended, they settled down in Vermont and built the family farm. He was the one who planted that tree there. As the story goes, according to my grandma and dad, he was one of the top Union fighters. Always charging forward, like a tank on the battlefield. There was nothing that could stop him. He just rampaged through enemy lines and took them all out. People started to say he was unstoppable, hence the motto."

"Wow. Sounds like a cool guy."

"Yeah," Franklin smiled a bit. "Sure does." But, just as quickly as it came, his smile faded again.

Gabriela frowned. There was something else bothering him, she was sure of it. It wasn't just out of sense of grief that he came here. "So what's going on with you?" she asked, deciding on the straight forward approach.

"Huh?"

"You don't seem like yourself. Admittedly, I don't know you very well, but I am an observant person and you're not acting the same way as our last few interactions."

Franklin raised an eyebrow at that but didn't refute it. "Like I said, we all nearly died a few weeks ago and we're all dealing with it the best way we can. I just…" he sighed. "I just wish I knew what to do with myself."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

"You still having trouble with your speech?"

"Yep," she said, letting the 'p' sound pop a little. "I figured talking to my mom would help, and it has a bit, but…I'm still not quite sure what to write."

"Not sure how to help you there."

"No, you did more than enough last week, thanks. But anyway, what about you? What's the problem?"

"Oh where to start?" he asked rhetorically, or Gabriela assumed so at least. "My sister's refusing to talk to me cause she thinks my attitude about the whole thing is wrong."

"Your sister? Wait, does she…?"

"Yeah, she knows. She startled me and made me break my closet door the very first morning after my powers showed up, so she's in the loop. She also knows about Swarm and everything."

"Huh?" Gabriela didn't know what to make of that. She guessed it was lucky of him that he had someone else who knew about it and that they'd found out accidentally. She didn't think she would be able to work up the courage to tell any of her friends or her dad. But she didn't really want them to find out by accident either.

"Anyway, she thinks I'm disrespecting my dad with how I've been acting."

Gabriela's eyebrows shot upward. "Seriously? How?"

"He died a hero you know. A firefighter who saved a whole family. But the point is, he died doing it. And look what it did to my family." He sighed deeply and Gabriela felt a swell of sympathy for him. "I'm not blaming him for it, I never could. But I can't follow in his footsteps. Not after all that's happened. If I die too, even as a hero, it'll just destroy my family all over again. I can't do that to them. So, with these powers, I just…" he held his hands up helplessly. "I can't do anything."

"Even though you want to," Gabriela said, picking up on what he'd left unsaid.

"I don't know. Maybe? I just…I don't know."

"Yeah, well, I don't know how to help there." She also didn't think it was her place. Personally, she didn't really want to fight Swarm either. She'd prefer if he slunk into a hole and left them alone forever. But somehow, she doubted that would happen. He'd be back, sooner or later. And even though she knew she should do something to prepare for it, she just couldn't do it. Much easier to pretend it wasn't happening, no matter how dangerous that was. "Do you think you're doing the right thing?"

"Yeah, I…well I hope so."

Gabriela shook her head. "Can you believe how messed up our lives have gotten?"

"I try not to think about it too much. But, yowza."

"Yeah. I mean, I knew going in that my teenage years would be full of identity issues and hormone problems and so many other things that would make my life a living nightmare. But somehow, supervillains never really made the list."

"I don't think it made anyone's list. Except possibly Travis's."

Gabriela snorted. "Maybe. He still preparing?"

"As far as I know. Don't see too much of him."

Gabriela nodded. "Look, for both our problems, I don't really think there is an obvious solution. We just have to do what we think is best."

"Great. But I don't what know what that is anymore."

"Yeah, I know." Gabriela glanced back towards the cemetery, looking in the direction of where her mom's grave was. What would her mom say about all this? What would she think Gabriela should do? Would she want Gabriela to stay out of it, pretend it didn't exist? Or would she want her to be more prepared for the fight coming? But, if she did fight and she lost, what about her dad?

This was why she couldn't write that stupid speech. With everything looming over her, threatening everything she cared about, writing that speech seemed like a waste of time. She wanted to train harder but then that would mean accepting the threat was real. And that was scarier.

A better tomorrow, right mom? she thought. Well, that couldn't be farther from the truth right now as every day felt worse than the last. She just wished she knew what to do.

All she did know was that her time was running out. One way or another the future was coming for her. And she knew she wasn't ready for it.

She just hoped she could survive it.