I had just said my goodbye to him, alone and away from the celebrations. I couldn't quite stand it – couldn't party yet. Maybe later. I wanted to spend some time in the bay, memorize where he went, write it down and hide it. A sort of peaceful place to go when times got rough – because hell, if being Cole's brother didn't teach me that times will always get rough – away from the rest of the world. The rest of the humans. There were very few that had known a Conduit well, and those who had certainly hadn't known them like I knew Cole. So while everyone else was cheering – hell, I was cheering too; the plague had been bad – I was also pissed that it had taken his death to save the sick.

He'd had every chance to take his power and twist it to his uses. He could've been king of whatever the hell he wanted to be, and he hadn't. He could've ruled people in terror and fear and he hadn't. He could've left me behind to die when I deserved it – damn do I regret screwing him over – and he hadn't. He was a good guy, a great one, a hero.

And he was gone.

"I'm sure gonna miss you."

It was a quiet statement, made quieter by the fact that it followed a soft, "I love you, brother." I pushed the stone behemoth of a coffin off of the boat, and watched it float for a moment, and then begin to sink. Before it was covered by water, though, a lightning bolt struck outta nowhere. No storm, just clouds, and this first bolt hit the coffin straight on. The lid cracked, the stone splitting down the length of it, and all I could do was watch. Lightning flashed across the water, far and near, and I thought that was it, the world's last goodbye to Cole. Louder and flashier than mine. But I guess what powers he used had the right to give him one last shock.

Or maybe two.

You see, another bolt of lightning flew down and hit the coffin almost dead-on. A little to the right, and a little up from the center, and that's where it flashed, blinding me even with my sunglasses on. If I were a religious man, I'd say it shot him in the heart by fate. As it stands, I don't really know.

So I'm standing there, rubbing at my eyes to get the afterglow out, and I go back to watching the shattered coffin sink. Except, well…Cole moved. It was probably just the water pulling him out of the stone resting place he'd been given, but I couldn't bet on that. Besides, I knew that water would kill him – maybe that was my twist of irony on it all. He'd died by being a hero, it was only fair to give him to the water to rest.

I dropped the lifeboat double-time, and jumped in – still a little weak from the plague – and started that motor up stat. Took it over to Cole and fished him out, rolling him over so he lay on his back. What can I say? I was desperate. I had seen him die, and I had carried his cooling body to the crowds of celebrating survivors. I was deluding myself into believing he could be alive.

But I'd seen crazier shit, right?

So I take him back to the boat and just chill out in the bay, afraid to check for a pulse and be proven wrong.

Didn't have to wait long.

He…made a sound. A groan, not unlike those he made waking up after absorbing another blast core. I jogged over and put my hand on his shoulder – god, it was warm.

"Hey, brother. Looks like hell didn't want your ass." Not one of my best, but I wasn't really prepared for this, either.

"H-wha?" He rubbed at his head scrubbing a hand over his eyes, and finally looked up at me. He seemed unfocused for a second, and then everything snapped together in an instant. "Zeke?"

"The one and only, man."

"What are you –" he paused, scrutinizing me, and then frowned, eyes narrowing in frustration.

You see, he'd tried to check me for the plague. Figured that if he'd survived, then he'd failed and we were all doomed. Except he couldn't see that anymore.

That pulse he'd tried to send out never went.

He'd lost his powers.

The Conduits had all been killed, and while he hadn't lost the gene, he'd need another Ray Sphere to get his powers back. Which, being the man he was, he'd never ask for.

All the same, he'd lost a light in him – no pun intended. He told me it was like going into a powered-down zone. Thirsty, yet not quite. It was less of a thirst now, more of a hole. He knew what was missing. He felt it. Like he'd lost a limb the rest of us never had.

And sure, he was grateful to be alive. Hell, who wouldn't be? He'd get a hero's welcome back in New Marais, no doubt. But he couldn't be a hero anymore. No power to heal the wounded. No flight. No electricity to zap any bad guys in his way. He was just a regular guy now, like the rest of us. It took something out of him. Not pride, or superiority, but a belief that he could help, always.

It'll take some time to convince him that he's helped the world enough. It owes him a rest.

We can go back to watching old cowboy movies on the rooftops where we live. I can guarantee that he'll stay with me, out in the open, rather than move into some fancy home they give him as thanks for being a hero. For giving up everything for those who couldn't fight for themselves, who couldn't fight a sickness. He'd given up his life because he knew what it was like to lose everything. To lose those you loved for the sake of others. He'd rather die a hero than live a villain. And that said a lot about him.

At least the world rewarded him for that. He can have both. He can live a hero.

Besides, he owes me a beer for getting his ass out of Bertrand's trap.