The Question

It was a swing. Back and forth. Delicate fingers tossed the rusted metal forward. It swung harder.

Beyond the playground, the setting sun washed the panorama in vibrant oranges, yellows and reds. There was a quiet breeze around her that ruffled the leaves on the ground. No schoolkids or little children. Even the streets were empty.

Fingers wrapped around the metal links, the swinging slowed. She sat down.

So many lives to save. So many situations to resolve. The world was moving in its fast-paced way and he was breezing with it. Perhaps in the flying, red transformation. A smile formed on her face.

She wondered if it was easy for him. That if everything was actually quite easy to put in boxes; segregated between good and evil. He supported this, he beat this up. Perhaps his heart led him in the right place. She wondered if her heart was led in the right place.

She kicked at the pile of leaves being spun into the air by a tiny whirlwind. There was an inappropriate cringe on her pink-colored lips.

Maybe it was easier to be his dark-haired friend. The greater good was simply a pleasant side-effect.

When there was an aim, how did he know he wasn't suffering from tunnel vision? That perhaps, in the single-minded pursuit of good, that he wasn't seeing anything else? How did he know?

"Mint or strawberry?" Two hands reached out, ice-cream cones containing each flavour.

She turned to the owner of the hands and she marvelled at the vibrant green eyes that looked far more real than the washed out ones in the mint. She took the strawberry and smiled. As he dug into the mint and sat on the adjacent swing, she stared off somewhere else.

She wasn't a hero. She had a lot of respect for him and his role. The fact that he could juggle humanity with being something greater. Perhaps because she wasn't the hero, she always wondered about the kind of mentality to be one.

For one thing, she wasn't one to actively seek out trouble. Adventurous though she may have been, she didn't want to be in a scuffle if she could help it. Maybe she was inherently something of a pacifist. She wasn't the gun-toting, action girl. Her red-haired friend - his cousin - that was more the action girl. The thought made her smile.

She fought when there was a fight but she'd rather not. It was the culture of machismo that was making everyone regard fists as far more important than words. For her, the only competition she wanted involved a tennis racket.

Looking to her left, she watched him push his swing with his legs. Mint was on his cheek. When she swung back, she scuffed her sneakers on the sand to slow her swinging and she reached out a hand. She successfully wiped it off.

Wide-eyed, he looked back at her. "Something on my face?"

She finished her strawberry too. Leaning her upper body downwards, she swung as hard as she could. Feminine laughter rang through the empty playgrounds. Teasing. A little mocking but light-hearted. He joined in the laughter and swung harder. An answer to her challenge.

That thing. Fighting. How did he know when to pick his fights? Did he even really know or did he just dive head first into a situation and ask questions later? The idea of fighting with innocents made her cringe. Maybe she just wasn't molded from the same material that made heroes.

She wasn't a jealous person. It was easy enough to share him with the rest of the world. She didn't resent his heroism. Oh, there were moments. Definitely. She was human. She wanted him there. Like a little girl, hoping avidly for her parents to watch her receive her awards in graduation or even something as simple as seeing her drawing. It wasn't special. She wasn't special. The world was more important. Though she just wanted someone to be there. That made it seem ridiculously petty. Nonetheless, it didn't remove the desire.

But she moved on. Without the hero, what was he? It was him. There was nothing to separate from the awkward teenager to the righteous superhero. It all combined to the seamless persona that swung competitively beside her. If something were to happen that removed his heroism, what was he to become? Would he still be the same person that she liked?

Backing up several steps until she was in tip-toes, she swung as hard as she could. It felt like flying. He took her flying once. It was a dizzying, exciting sensation. He'd introduced so many interesting things to her. Made her life a rollercoaster. But his life was a rollercoaster for a much longer time than her own. She wondered how he lived with it. She wondered what it was like, being him. How it was that he could get away with being so confident when the strangest things have happened.

She skidded so hard into a halt, she thought she'd dislodge herself from the swing. How could she deal with them?

The swing beside her slowed to a descent, until the subtle moves were no more than just occasional nudges. "You okay?"

There were so many questions. How did she go about asking? For a long while, she just chewed on her bottom lip. The sound of ruffled leaves around them managed to amplify the silence. She wondered how it was that there were no paparazzi behind the bushes. Just her luck that nobody could interfere.

Probably not the best time for sarcasm.

"How do you know for sure?" she started off, staring straight at him. Deeper, right beyond the confused green that blinked at her.

"Hmm?"

"About being a hero; how do you know?" That he was in the right. That this was everything that he wanted. That this was everything he bargained for. That she bargained for. She glimpsed at the sky. It was getting darker. In the end, that was what this was really about, wasn't it? Was this everything she bargained for?

He shrugged.

He just trusted what was in his heart. For the most part, it has lead him to where he was at that point. There'd always been screw ups. There were always something like those along the way. Though his heart never really betrayed him in the wrong direction. It did get there eventually; where he needed to be.

He stood up from his swing. He was sick of it already. He turned to her with a bright smile. "Want me to swing you?"

For a moment, her dark eyes just stared back at his green ones. Then she giggled behind her hand and prepped herself to be swung.

She was sixteen. A whole life ahead of her. There were still some questions that had no answers. At the moment, she should just be a sixteen year old girl. Some questions could only be answered by the heart. As a young girl, could she really trust what her heart was telling her?

She laughed loudly as he pushed that much harder on her swing.

It hasn't yet lead her in the wrong direction.

"Smoothie later?" he asked.

She just continued laughing in response.

A/N: Inspired by way too many things. The episode "Duped", fandom response to "Duped" and my own personal desire to write some character exploration on Julie. To see that level of humanity she has without ignoring the credit that she deserves for being above that, by accepting Ben's heroism and somehow being more understanding than even Gwen 0_o. This story handles the aftermath, after they've made up but still fresh from the fight. The theme was on 'questions'. That's why I tried really hard not to have anything else other than questions as conversation.