Author's note: Well, I feel pretty silly. I apologize sincerely for falling off the face of the earth. But I've found my way back and here's a new chaper to ease your annoyance with me! Yay? And boy, have I struggled with the upload of this chapter. I am not good at this posting thing!

It's Static speaking again.

I feel ridiculous. I can't even believe… I don't know what I was thinking… That was… Ugh.

Hell, I'm an idiot.

I can't believe the stunt I just pulled. I let my temper get the best of me… again. I sat down with the effing Justice League and had the nerve to sass them… again. And I left my best friend in there alone, to deal with whatever he's dealing with without me by his side. Again. Damn it.

I'm trying my hardest not to fry anything, I really am. My limbs are still humming with electricity; I can feel it surging in my veins like blood. I don't really even know where I am; some gunmetal gray room full of faintly beeping computers and constellations of blinking red lights… looks like something out of Star Trek. Like that narrows it down on a freaking space station. I hardly remember getting here; my head was so full of fury and static when I blazed out of the conference room, it's all sort of a blur.

I don't even know what's got me so worked up, to be honest. It's not like it's anyone's fault that Richie's brain is turning on him. Well, anyone's fault but mine… Now there's another whole can of worms I probably shouldn't reopen, but there's no blocking the wave of guilt that's swelling up inside my chest and spilling into the rest of me, hot and painful.

Damn.

Years ago, when his powers first manifested, I woke up one school night at one or two in the morning to Richie tapping quietly on my window. It wasn't the first time he'd come unannounced in the middle of the night, not by a long shot, but something was different that night. Something about his face. I can still picture it in my mind, pale and strained and full of cold fear. Lost. He climbed over the window sill and sank cross-legged onto the foot of my bed and, without a word from me, started talking in this hoarse, quiet, creepily still voice about how terrified he was. It scared the hell out of me. It still chills me to the bone, thinking about his scary-calm voice that night. He was so confused, so overwhelmed, and there wasn't much I could do for him but be strong and promise him over and over again that everything was okay.

Which is why I never let on that I was drowning in guilt.

No matter how sweet it is to be a Bang Baby, no matter how many people you save or bad guys you thwart, there's no denying that it's… well, it's a hell of a ride. In one petrifying moment, you're suddenly not yourself anymore. You're wrestling with powers you don't understand and that, as cool as you say they are, scare you to the very core. You've got no choice but to hide, to pretend nothing's changed when your entire world has been flipped on its tail. Because the alternative is to be taken away and strapped to a table and injected and scanned and studied like a freaking animal, and have your family turn on you like you've stopped being you and hear those words that, secretly, every one of us metahumans hate more than anything.

Monster.

Demon.

Freak.

And I dragged Richie with me into that world. I exposed him to the gas. I made him what he is.

It took me a long time to get over that. I spent a lot of hours sitting silently in the Gas Station Of Solitude, watching Rich try to process the new thoughts in his head, try to understand his own mind. And as he gradually came to terms with it, learned to enjoy it, I did too.

But now…

Relapse. Awesome.

"Hey."

I peel my face out of my hands. To my surprise, Richie is sitting against the wall beside me, arms draped coolly over his knees. His expression is casual, but he's watching me with tired eyes. He's reading me like a book; I can tell.

When did I get on the floor?

"Hi," I say, watching the electricity rolling over my fingertips.

"You alright?" he asks quietly. He taps my thumb with his forefinger, watches the white sparks skip over his skin as the static snaps loudly. I shake my head.

"Didn't think so," he replies. "Wanna talk about it?"

I shake my head again.

"Okay."

Silence stretches between us. For the first time in my memory, I feel shifty and uncomfortable in it. I feel like I'm spinning and my thoughts are all tangled and twisted I just can't shut off the guilt. And before I can stop them, words are spewing out of my mouth like puke.

"Are you going to die, Rich?" I can hardly hear myself. I sound like a frightened child.

He's looking at me again with those weary eyes, and I can feel that he's trying to figure something out. I force myself to meet his gaze. The candidness almost hurts.

Then, he shrugs. "I honestly don't know."

That almost scares me more than a 'yes'. Richie knows pretty much everything, and what he doesn't know he can guess with unsettling accuracy. Him not knowing something, and openly admitting it to me… I try not to let my panic show.

He sees right through me.

"I know, I know," he says with a half-hearted laugh. "The know-it-all doesn't know it all. Want to hear what happened after you left?"

I nod, and he tells me. I listen carefully as he recaps the whole thing: the apology, the explanation, The Big Idea. He dumbs it down for me just like he always does, but it takes some effort to wrap my head around it anyway. And when I do, I feel even worse than before.

I can't think of a word to say. I mean, I pretty much knew from the beginning this was where we stood, and I had a feeling Richie's big plan was going to be crazy-dangerous and only semi-comprehensible. So I'm not surprised, not really. Just completely devastated.

Richie's looking shockingly chill for having just discussed his own demise.

I sigh and plant my face right back between my hands.

"Hey listen, V," he says, laying a light hand on my shoulder, "I know you're freaking out. Heck man, the entire Justice League knows that, and no one's faulting you for it. It's totally understandable. But you can't blame this on anyone. It's nobody's fault, just my own nasty-ass luck turning on me again. So quit beating yourself up, okay?"

Yep. He did it again. I'd swear he's a mind reader as well as a super-genius. I can't hide a thing from him, never could. Maybe that's why it bothered me so much these last few months, knowing that he was hiding something from me.

"It's not that easy, bro," I mumble into my palms. "I can't just let this go… just not be sad and confused and disturbed and mad. I feel half-crazy, thinking about it all."

Richie chuckles dryly. "Join the club, dude."

I snort, despite my misery.

"Look, Virgil," he says gently, like he's handling something brittle and fragile. "I've got something to say and you've got to hear me, so just do me a solid and shut it for five minutes. Okay?"

I look at him sidelong, nod hesitantly.

Blowing out a loud breath, he launches into it without preamble. "There's a good chance I'm gonna die pretty soon."

"Man, that's not-"

"Dude, I told you to shut it," he interjects firmly. "Just listen. You know it's true; I know it's true. We might as well face the fact. My chances aren't stellar, there's no questioning that. Based on the readouts and test results I've seen and the rate of progression, I estimate I've got a good day before things start getting really… sticky."

I swallow. "Sticky?"

He shoots me a you-know-what-I-mean look and my guts twist angrily. "Yeah… sticky. And I don't know about you, but I don't really want to wait around for that to happen. I can't be idle anymore. So what I want to do is go through with my plan. Right away. Tomorrow."

All the nervous energy bouncing around in my system leaves me in the space of a breath.

I should have guessed. This is so typical of him… he comes up with these crazy elaborate plans full of huge words and dorky smirks and once he's got one fixed in his head, he makes it happen. No lag time, no notice. Gives me about a millisecond to get used to the idea. In fact, half the time he starts before he remembers to tell me about the plan at all.

I guess I should be grateful he bothered to let me in on it before he starts trying to blow his own brain up.

"Richie…" I mumble. I can't think of anything to say. I feel like a deflated balloon.

He shakes his head, cutting me off. "Look, Virgil," he says firmly, "There's really no other option here, if you think about it. I can either kick back and let myself wither away into a drooling, empty Richie-shell, or I can do something and try to fix this. Maybe my chances of success are less than promising, but I would rather go out kicking. I've been feeling particularly proactive as of late, and you know you suck at waiting."

He peers frankly at me over the tops of his old glasses, somehow forcing me to meet his eyes. "The rest of our lives are waiting down there, man. I have to find out if I'll be around to live mine."

Great. Juuuuust great.

How's a guy supposed to argue with a heartbreaking argument like the little gem he just delivered without sounding like a giant flaming tool? There is nowhere I can go from here, absolutely nowhere. Richie has effectively taken the fight out of me. He's given me no option but to be okay with this, the stupid jerk.

I never knew I could feel so hollow.

"Okay," I manage to say, tripping over my tongue. I close my eyes against his placid stare.