Three days later, The Galactic Man sat in the living room, flipping the channels on his TV. He landed on Real Miami Superheroes, amazed at the way the metahumans acted. The drinking, the swearing, the the fighting. Was that all superheroes were supposed to do?
Made his stomach churn. What he wouldn’t give for a normal life.
He finished his mojito, appreciated the sound of glass hitting table.
Turned the channel to some old four-camera sitcom.
He heard his daughter’s heartbeat before she made her way into the living room but didn’t turn his head. She always tried sneaking up on him. She never really would, but she’d gotten better. He figured she deserved a win.
“Dad,” she said, once she’d reached the edge of the room.
“Yeah, Bailey?” he asked. Her heart was beating a bit quickly. She wasn’t goofing off, he realized.
“You said David was never going to die.” She was seven years old, with big eyes and long brown hair.
Hearing her talk like that broke Galactic Man’s heart.
“I told you he’d be back,” Galactic Man said. He made sure she didn’t go to the funeral. No need to subject someone so young to a thing like that.
“When?” She got on the couch and layed her head on his lap.
It had been a while, he supposed. And she didn’t know that David had come back to life.
“Soon,” Galactic Man said. He brushed the hair out of his face. “Soon he’ll be back, and everything will be back to normal.”
“The other kids at school say he’s not coming back.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Galactic Man said. “They don’t know that you and David are special. You’re never going to die, do you hear me?”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Death,” she said.
He touched Bailey’s cheeks. “You’ll never die.” He kissed her forehead. “I made sure of that.”