Step 8. Determine how best to make amends with those you have wronged.

Shortly After Returning

A cold, unmoving air surrounded Ned as he lingered near the wall, peeking in through the window and the light chain link pattern strewn across it. The usual movement and whirring sounds of this environment did little to distract him as he tried to check on the condition of the figure within the room. He hadn’t even had time to decompress after returning to New York before getting the call from Edgar. There was a level of disbelief that flowed through Ned until he walked through the long, sterile, mocking halls that always dragged him back for another heartache. Another visit to a hospital.

Another potential farewell he might not be able to make. Another body to bury.

“What happened?” Darcy’s voice cut through the ambiance of the hospital as Ned quickly readjusted himself, nearly regaining a sort of lucidity.

“Relapse. Overdose,” he stated, almost matter of factly, needing to inform himself as much as her.

“Jesus,” her face slid into her hands. Ned glanced over at her, noticing how unkempt she looked, more so than typically. Certainly, Darcy wasn’t caught up with how she looked everywhere, but even this news had plainly affected her as well.

“Have they told you anything else? Is-” Darcy took a moment, composing herself and doing her best to focus, the same way she did when her sister first got sick, “is she going to be alright?”

Kaye stared at his feet, his vision flattening, the place where his shoes began and the floor ended becoming a blur of colors as he placed every ounce of concentration in being present enough to answer her question, “no clue. Her blood alcohol level was nearly point four. She could remain comatose for days, months. Maybe even for the rest of her life.”

Steeling herself, Darcy shrugged off the thought, though her eyes did well at the possibility. Amelia was someone she had mixed feelings about given her history, but her safety was important to Ned and that meant it was important to Darcy as well. Unfortunately, Darcy Ellis was a programmer at heart, a woman who viewed the world in if/thens. Cause and effect. And her impulsive analysis led to a question she regretted as soon as it left her.

“Do you think she spent that money you sent her on alcohol?” She closed her eyes, already knowing how Ned would look as soon as they unfurled, a face of indignant hurt.

“What?!” He asked, his voice raising before he managed to bring it back to a lower level, “of course not! She was trying to get sober, Darce! She didn’t just lie for booze!”

Darcy took a deep breath, standing her ground despite the discomfort seeping through his expression, “I’m just saying it’s possible. She’d be far from the first recovering addict to lie for drugs.”

Speechless, Ned was now fully back in reality, but utterly disappointed in her words, “She wouldn’t do that! She’s not some sort of desperate liar and she didn’t need to go get alcohol!”

Darcy’s gaze turned from one of reluctant questioning to one of aggravated curiosity.

“Why wouldn’t she need to go get alcohol?”

Ned inhaled sharply through his nose, his head lowering slightly as he spoke, “...she had a stash.”

Darcy eyes filled with disappointment, “and you knew?”

“Yes, but I told her to get rid of them. I told her they were dangerous to have around.”

“Why didn’t you make sure she got rid of them?! Do you know how irresponsible that is? You think it’s so intrusive that I ask if she might have lied to you, but you just let her sit on her drug of choice like it was nothing?”

Ned swiveled his body to look straight towards Darcy, pointing towards the door to Amy’s room.

“Because she made it clear that she would relapse if she tampered with them! I had every intention of getting rid of them when there was time, but I guess addicts are just so untrustworthy! That we can’t follow through with what we say we’re going to!”

“This isn’t about you!” Darcy yelled, causing some stares from the hospital workers as they lowered their heads and voices gently, “she isn’t like you, Ned. She has different problems. Yeah, they’re similar in a lot of ways, but you two are not some carbon copies of one another. My suspicions about her have nothing to do with you. I don’t think you’re trying to cover for her or be crafty. I don’t…”

She grumbled slightly, forcing herself to be a little mushier than she’d like.

“I think you are wonderful and I don’t want to see you get exploited and heartbroken over something you can’t control.”

“I know,” Ned muttered, pulling her close into a tight embrace, enjoying the comforting press of her body against his as he sighed.

“I know you’re doing your best for her and for everybody else,” she reassured, tugging on his collar a little before giving him a smirk, “now unhand me before you realize that I smell like two day old perfume and the magic’s lost.”

Ned chuckled a bit, doing as she asked, shaking his head slightly as the worry returned to him. Amelia could potentially never walk out of that room. As the thought crossed his mind, the door opened.

It was a nurse, clearly a little stressed from the day he’d been having. He was looked downward at a clipboard, trying to adjust the papers on it, as he stepped into the hallway and bumped right into Ned. The papers went everywhere.

“Oh God!” the nurse exclaimed, repeating “I’m sorry,” near endlessly as he tried picking all the papers up with Kaye’ assistance.

“It’s alright,” Ned tried to get him to calm down as he scooped up papers, one catching his eye that he set aside, handing the rest to the nurse.

“A-are you members of the family?” He asked, trying to identify exactly who had been waiting outside her room.

Darcy and Ned shook their heads, Ned piping in with a, “no, I’m Amelia’s sponsor. Just got back in town and came over as fast as I could.”

Darcy, noticing the paper Ned had subtly set aside, asked the question before he could, “did no one from her family show up?”

The nurse gave a somewhat exaggerated frown, “just you, too. We tried calling her father and leaving a message, but… nothing.”

“Her condition?” Ned asked, bracing himself for tragedy.

“Well,” the nurse approached the answer with trepidation, “she’s stable, but still in a coma. Odds point to a recovery, but complications do happen and we don’t have a timeframe. I wish I could give you better news.”

“Well, thank you for letting us know,” Darcy added, letting the nurse awkwardly skulk away as she turned towards Ned, his eyes having scanned over the one paper left behind with a level of speed and precision she didn’t often see him employ out in the wild. Maybe in the Mecha Museum.

“You’re gonna ask to go, right?” She inquired, taking Ned off guard as he attempted to formulate a response.

“Well, yes, but,” his words were delayed somewhat as his mouth finally caught up with his mind, “how did you know?”

“I’m not stupid,” she smirked after speaking, playing up her fake offense at his shock, “just because we’re a thing doesn’t mean my brain went to mush. That’s the emergency contact sheet and there’s only one person that you would want to talk to, but don’t know how to find.”

Ned exhaled a bit, a little happy to be reminded that he wasn’t as clever as he sometimes thought himself.

“So, what’s his name?” She asked.

Ned held his tongue for a moment, finding it difficult to say it aloud at first before reading the name of Amelia’s father.

The name his own father once shared.

“David.”

---

Ned double checked the address, a tight feeling gripping his chest as he stepped towards the front door, his eyes scanning over the paper very the numbers on the house. Finally folding up the paper and placing it in his back pocket. The front door was a light cream color, an off-white that fit in with the house, but clashed with the tarnished silver handle. He took a deep breath, preparing himself.

Knock, knock.

It was a few seconds before anyone made it to the door. She was a middle-aged woman, slightly nasally in her tone, her attire casual and hair far too dressed to merely linger inside all day.

“Hello? I hope you saw the “no solicitors sign on the lawn,” she led with.

“Uh, yeah,” Ned brushed past the subject to ask his question, “I’m looking for David Carter. He lives here. May I speak with him?”

She looked at him awkwardly, her teeth rubbing anxiously as she answered his question, “I think he was the previous homeowner. He’s not here anymore.”

Ned forced a smile, “well, thank you for your time then.”

She quickly and firmly shut the door in his face as he walked towards the street taking a seat on the curb. He looked upwards, his mind stuck on this whole encounter.

David had moved and didn’t even bother to update his contact information. He was a father stripped from his child’s life by choice, not circumstance. No goodbyes. Nothing.

As Ned stared upwards at the sky, slowly dimming, it felt emptier than it ever had prior. Stinging far worse than any kick could. Like a gaping hole encompassing the horizon.

Vacant.

---

---

---

“There’s a ton of reasons that people speak ill of Mastermind in the XWF. I could probably list a hundred and not get far. But my issues with the man are not as pedantic as the ones of countless others. And frankly, considering that it’s plainly apparent that he took this challenge for granted, I’m not going to give him the pleasure of speaking about him at length.”

“We're going to do this briefly.”

“I hate Mastermind’s self-importance. This incessant need to parade about like he’s a gift to wrestling when he shows none of that gravitas in his in-ring performances any more. At some point, he stopped being a man and started being a t-shirt. An empty, vapid slogan on the thinnest material imaginable. He makes a huge deal about calling me out for a match and what does he do with the opportunity? One his own teammate stated clear intent for prior? He just shambles by, no desire to really stake a claim or prove himself. Just that contentment I abhor. But oh my, will he waste a mountain of breath on people he didn’t go out of his way to face? How many hours have been dedicated to Mastermind’s lifeless soliloquies to nothing? How many architectural projects have been dreamed into existence by a man who can’t find a point, let alone make one? What are you doing, Mastermind? What’s your goal? You wanted The Ace and you got him but then a switch flipped off and you decided it was all well and good if you look like a giant fool, picking fights you can’t back up.”

“And I’m reminded of my time as The Nefarious One. My time as a man made entirely of ego and barely containing the will to back that up. It’s like staring into a reflection of what might have been and what I will never allow to be. People are not some wandering husks, forced to abide by their worst instincts. You wanted me, MM. You wanted me so goddamn badly and yet you never, for a second, comprehended what you were signing up for. Who you were facing.”

“You’re not going to make the same mistake twice.”

"You can't run from yourself."