Chapter 4 : Aftermath & Aftercare

 

The Thompson’s home, Forest Hill, Queens, 22th of January, 6:00

 

I do not wake up with the ringing of my alarm, but the gentle shakes that my blood-sister is giving me. She’s humming softly with her crystalline voice while hugging me.

 

I’ve been clinging to her like a lifeline for the whole night and my arms hurt a bit.

I’ve officially slept like shit. Plagued by nightmares, Kilgrave’s life fading away from him with the screams of his victims in the background.

You are reading story Iris and Me at novel35.com

Watching him die, over and over again.

 

Feeling good, powerful, justified about it, and for the sensation to vanish a moment later and leave in its stead guilt, self-hate and pity.

 

I exhale a shuddering breath, clinging just a little bit harder to my most alien sisterly-pillow, hiding myself in her warmth and darkness.

 

Then I let her go, opening my eyes just in front of her worried face.

 

“Morning…” I softly croak.

 

“Good,” she cringes for a beat, “Morning, blood-sister.”

 

Her hand is in my hair, doing littles tapiti-tap thingies. I think she’s patting my head ?

 

I’m not sure. I’m too exhausted to be completely cognizant right now.

 

“You were very agitated,” a simple statement, nothing else, “Do you want to talk about it ?”

 

I feel the love and care through the mind-link, my heart warms a little.

 

“Not right now, no.” I answer kindly, yet my smile tense, “Maybe later, maybe never. I don’t know. What’s done is done after all.”

 

She wordlessly nods.

 

“I’ll be there when you’re ready.” She decisively adds after a thought.

 

This time, my smile is genuine as I hug her once again, my head in the crook of her neck.

 

“I know.”

 

We stay like that for a bit, enjoying the warmth and companionship that only us can have, before I finally ask the question.

 

“So, did it work ?”

 

My sister smiles, it is predatory and full of pride, yet I love it.

 

“It did, watch.”

 

As I pay attention, her white eyes and mouth gradually goes lilac purple and her whole body seems to get glossier, like she just applied a faint layer of polish to it.

 

The issue I had with Kilgrave’s power was the fact that he couldn’t control the virus production. Luckily, I’m bonded with a biological entity that can alter her body almost at will, so she will take care of the agent’s dispersal, while I’ll be the voice.

 

Her autopsy of his body revealed that his mutation wasn’t located on the x gene, but rather on his language center in his brain, so that’s what got altered on me. It should go away with the gene therapy that we will do on me once we have gathered the samples we need.

 

“How long did it take ?” I ask, curious about the process.

 

Picking the brain of someone who is naturally talented at gene therapy never ceases to amaze me. If Gwendolyn actually enabled the science stuff to make sense to me, my blood-sister is starting to create a vocation.

 

Who would have thought.

 

“Less than an hour, give or take.” She answers, then seems to hesitate. “It looks like there was something helping me, I’m not sure.”

 

I ponder her words for a moment.

 

“A minor healing factor.” I say after a moment.

 

The process we used was to take and modify a single cell of my brain in my language center, then destroy those adjacent to it, and let the healing factor that my sister is sharing with me do the rest by itself. She just had to repeat the cycles of destruction until all of the language center was converted and fix the result.

 

“Are you sure ?” She asks, but already knows my answer.

 

“Positive,” I nod to her for emphasis, “That’s the only hypothesis that makes sense. The comic version of that twat had one after all.”

 

We just didn’t let the one we encountered any opportunity to prove it.

 

I stay thoughtful for a bit, then shake my head.

 

“It doesn’t matter, really. We have what we need.”

 

I start to rise, and she melts inside of me without a word.

 

“Time to prepare for school.” I say aloud, making my way to the bathroom.

 

***

 

Midtown High, Queens, New York, the same day, 16:32

 

“Alright, out with it, who pissed in your shoes this morning ?”

 

More than the question asked, the phrasing is what makes me do a double-take at Gwendolyn.

 

That girl never, ever, swears, yet she just did. She’s also sporting an impressive scowl, but that doesn’t really fool me. I can smell the concern from here.

 

I don’t really know what I did to have her paying that much attention to my mental-health, but if I had to be honest, I don't really want to deal with it right now.

 

I close my eyes and count from ten to one backward, centering myself.

 

“No one, I just had a really shitty night.” I answer evasively.

 

Her eyes narrow a tad, her mint green orbs seeing right through me and my poor attempt at lying.

 

Come on, please don’t do this.

 

“[Concern]”

 

I mentally hug the other side of the mind-link and my blood-sister reciprocates.

 

Gwendolyn’s hand lands on mine and I have to resist the urge to cringe.

 

I’m not that dumb, I know that she’s starting to see me like something more than a friend whith whom she study her ass off. But there’s some glaring issue with that to me.

Firstly, I have the wrong body.

 

Secondly, mentally, I could be her mom.

 

Thirdly, she’s underage.

 

I was aware that I was playing with fire as the first signs of interests started to show up, now I’m up shitcreek without a paddle and have genuinely no ideas of how I am going to defuse that ticking time bomb without hurting her.

 

One thing is certain, that won’t be today because I’m not in the mood for that kind of discussion.

 

“I’m ok,” I start as I slowly disengage from physical contact, “It was just some nightmares, I swear.”

 

I look in her eyes. There’s a flash of hurt amids the concern, but it vanishes as quickly as it came.

 

I have to give it to her, she’s mature enough to understand that her attempt was badly timed, she’s just underestimating how much.

 

“Is it because of your opportunity ?” She asks, crossing her arms and head slightly tilted.

 

I’ll say it again, but damn, that girl is sharp.

 

I mull over my thoughts for a bit.

 

“You could say that.” I finally nod.

 

“Having second thoughts ?” She asks.

 

Kilgrave’s expression of horror as he dies flashes through my mind and I have to bite the interior of my cheeks not to wince.

 

“More like a realization.” I frown.

 

“Oh ?” She arches an eyebrow.

 

“Yeah,” I continue, getting more certain about my decisions, “That sometimes, to move forward, you have to sacrifice something.”

 

She hmm at that.

 

We stay silent for a bit, staring at each other in contemplation of what I just realized. My blood-sister is still hugging my side of the mind-link and it helps me settle somewhat.

 

“You know,” Gwendolyn starts and I perk up, “When I’m wool-gathering a bit too much, I just take some time for myself, forget everything, and do something I like instead.”

 

I have a flash of realization.

 

“In fact, I might just do that.” I answer with the first genuine smile of the day.

 

A smile flick on her face as I admit that her advice makes sense.

 

“I like taking up the brush when I’m in that mood.” She discloses without shame.

 

I raise an eyebrow at that.

 

Wasn’t expecting her to be the artsy type.

 

“I’m more of a shopping person.” I lazily answer.

 

***

 

The Thompson’s home, Forest Hill, Queens, the same day, 21:17

 

“That was fun.” My blood-sister says, hugging my right arm as I lay on my back in my bed, arms crossed behind my head.

 

“That it was.” I agree easily.

 

We just spent two hours doing our better impression of a fleeting hummingbird window shopping at the mall.

 

Yeah, sue me, but a shopping trip always puts me back on track mentally. I must’ve looked like a perfect weirdo as I was gushing mentally with shiny eyes on practical cardigans, trendy blouses, pretty dresses composed at almost ninety percent lace, platform shoes, cute headbands, high heels, voluminous and/or very tight skirts, stockings in all styles, and, of course, unmentionables of every kind.

 

The best part ? I didn’t have to either pay for them nor get judgemental looks when I did so as my sister, happy that I was in a better mood, saved all the designs that I loved for future references.

 

My future wardrobe is going to be insane and I just can’t wait for it.

 

“You liked the lacy thingies the most.” She teases me a little, but it is in good humor.

 

I feel a bit of heat rising to my cheeks.

 

“I always did,” I mumble under my breath, “Men-wear is so lame in comparison, it’s not even funny.”

 

I feel my enthusiasm and urge to defend the pretty things rise.

 

“I mean, come on, who doesn’t want to rock the alternative dress-wear look, seriously ?” I mock-whine.

 

She chuckles.

 

“Roughly 50% of the population ?” 

 

“Point taken. I’m lucky I don’t belong with those.” I quipp back.

 

We giggle together at my silliness.

 

A beat passes in companionable silence.

 

“Do you feel better yet ?” She anxiously asks, hugging my arm a little tighter.

 

“A little,” I ponder, “It will take some time, I think, but I’m back in the game at least.”

 

“We’re going back to planning ?”

 

I nod assent.

 

“Yeah, I thought about it today, and I have a rough outline of how to do this, but I need to double-check a few things to be sure.” I explain.

 

“Tomorrow ?”

 

“Yeah, that can wait tomorrow.”

 

She snuggles closer.

 

“I’m happy you’re feeling better.” She softly says.

 

“So am I, sister, so am I.” I readily admit as I feel the weight on my chest alleviate a little for the first time since yesterday.

You can find story with these keywords: Iris and Me, Read Iris and Me, Iris and Me novel, Iris and Me book, Iris and Me story, Iris and Me full, Iris and Me Latest Chapter