Tristan’s back ached as he lied on the floor of Bridget’s room.

He pretended to be asleep when Bridget went downstairs to work in the bar, but that was already over an hour ago. He still couldn’t bring himself to get up off the ground.

He was exhausted. Every time he drifted off to sleep, he was shook back awake seconds later. He kept seeing the image of Arlene pointing the gun at him every time he closed his eyes. He kept hearing the sound of her firing it.

He glanced around Bridget’s room. It was a simple one room apartment like his own, but even smaller. Other than her bed and some clothing hanging on a clothesline, she didn’t seem to have any personal belongings. He wondered if it was by choice, or if all her extra money went to buying new guitars after she smashed the old ones.

He looked at his watch. It was already well past 2 o’clock, but it wasn’t the hour and minute hands that made him feel depressed.

It was the blue hand. He hadn’t deactivated the watch until he arrived at Bridget’s place, which left the hand in between the 12 and 1. If his theory was correct, and the blue hand represented some kind of charge, then it meant that the battery had almost run dry.

He let out a deep sigh.

It didn’t even matter anymore. He wasn’t a hero, and even if he was, there was nothing he could do with the watch anymore. He wouldn’t be able to stop time for more than a few seconds, and if he encountered someone using a watch, the only thing he could do was run away from them. Whatever was happening in the city was completely out of his league.

He just wanted to see Yune again. He just wanted to know that his love story wasn’t over before it even began.

He forced himself up. He hesitated for a moment before finally leaving the room. He walked down the stairs, and opened up another door at the bottom.

The bar was surprisingly busy for the time of day. There were probably only ten people or so, but that was still way more than he expected. Either this was a bar that had good food, or the city was full of alcoholics.

“You finally dragged yourself out of bed?” Bridget yelled over to him. She was standing at the bar, but quickly walked over to him.

“Yeah,” Tristan replied. “I… was just really tired, I guess.”

“You alright?” Bridget raised her eyebrow. She was probably trying to be supportive, but she came off as annoyed.

“I’m okay,” Tristan lied. “I’m just kind of shaken up.”

“Here, sit down,” Bridget pulled out a chair from the table closest to them. He nodded and sat in it. She walked back over to the bar and said something to the man behind it. A minute later, she came back holding two mugs filled with ice water. She put one in front of him and sat down at the other side of the table with the other.

“Thank you,” Tristan tried to smile. “And thank you for letting me stay here. I really… didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“No big deal,” Bridget took a mouthful of her water. “So… Nicolas, huh?” She really had absolutely no idea how to be tactful.

Tristan took a moment to answer. “Yeah,” his voice came out a little raspy. “He’s… dead.”

“Sounds like his attitude finally caught up with him,” Bridget crossed her arms. “He got what was coming to him.”

“Did he?” Tristan asked. She was really one to talk. It’s not like she was sunshine and rainbows.

“Yeah, he did,” Bridget put her mug back down on the table. “If you keep treating everyone you meet like a criminal, then one day they’re going to meet your expectations.”

Tristan didn’t know how to respond. Having hid the watch from Nicolas, he didn’t exactly have a clear conscience.

“So why did Arlene do it?” Bridget asked. “Can’t really imagine her getting angry over some disagreement.”

“I don’t even really understand what happened to be honest,” Tristan looked down at the glass in front of him.

“Well start understanding, because I wanna know,” Bridget sighed.

“When… we were attacked by those things at the house,” Tristan’s voice started shake. “It was my fault that Nicolas got hurt.”

“I get that you can’t fight,” Bridget started. “But Nicolas was responsible for defending himself. Don’t start getting all ‘survivor’s guilt’ on me here.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Tristan slammed his fist on the table. Bridget didn’t seem surprised or amused by his sudden outburst, so he decided to dial it back. “I actually did something that got him hurt.”

“Like what?”

There was no point in hiding it anymore. “Five days ago, I got this in the mail,” he held out his arm for her, facing the watch toward her. “I don’t know how, but it stops time. I thought that, if I used it, I could stop those monsters from attacking us. Turns out it stops everything but the monsters.”

“That’s not your fault then,” Bridget said.

Tristan was taken aback by how calm her reaction was. “Did you not hear what I said?” he asked. “I have a watch that can stop time, and I kept that information from you and the people investigating murders revolving around time stopping.” He wasn’t sure why, but he was essentially giving her reasons why someone with super strength should be angry at him.

“Yeah, I don’t really care about that,” Bridget said. “Like I said, Nicolas got what was coming to him. It’s just like I said, he treated everyone like he wanted to lock them up for life,” she flipped her long hair with her hand. “If he didn’t act like such a fucking psychopath, maybe you wouldn’t have felt the need to hide it from him in the first place.”

“I… guess,” Tristan sighed.

“Just forget about him,” Bridget took another drink from her mug. “I don’t care if he had the best intentions or whatever. If you’re always walking around kicking every dog you see, you can’t be surprised when one of them bites you.”

The logic seemed extremely flawed, but Tristan wasn’t in the mood to try and debate her about it. Nicolas was dead, and he felt bad about it. He would leave it at that for now.

“So you still haven’t answered my question,” Bridget said. “Why did she kill him?”

“Well,” he took a sip of water. “Do you remember how Arlene ripped all those monsters apart with magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Well it wasn’t Arlene that did that,” he leaned over the table a little and spoke in a whisper. “There was a girl in the window that did.”

“Huh,” Bridget’s expression didn’t change. “Who?”

He realized that he didn’t really need to be whispering. No one was really sitting nearby, and it wasn’t like they were the only ones talking. “I don’t know, actually,” he leaned back in his chair. “But it was someone she really wanted to keep a secret. I asked her about the girl in the window, and Nicolas overheard it.”

“And let me guess,” Bridget cut him off. “He treated her like a criminal, right?”

“…Yes,” Tristan took a deep breath. “She killed him as soon as he told her he was going to arrest her for hiding it from him… Then she tried to kill me.”

“I rest my case,” Bridget stretched out her arms. “I’m surprised you made it out alive. Good going.”

“Thanks… I guess?”

Bridget yawned. “So what are you going to do now?”

“What do you mean?” Tristan asked.

“I mean, what are you going to do now that you don’t have their help anymore?” Bridget asked. “You’re going after the murderer, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tristan laughed nervously. “They were dragging me along with them. How crazy do you think I am?”

“What happened to feeling bad about that girl?” Bridget looked him in the eyes. “What about that kid in the hospital?”

“Well yeah, I feel bad,” Tristan looked away. “But I can’t do anything about it. I can’t solve a murder.”

“For the last time, it’s not that you can’t do anything about it,” Bridget groaned. “It’s that you won’t do anything about it.”

“Oh stop,” Tristan said. “I’m useless. You know it, I know it. Why are you talking to me like you actually think I’m anything more than a loser?”

“Hey, just because you’re a loser doesn’t mean that you can’t do anything,” Bridget shrugged her shoulders. “This world’s is full of losers. The lowest of the low. Doesn’t mean they don’t get things done.”

Was this Bridget’s idea of a motivational speech? It felt more like he was being grilled.

“Look, I’m sick of the Clock Link activism shit,” Bridget said.

“Clock Link... activism?”

“The people that just post articles on Clock Link like that’s going to change anything,” she crossed her legs. “I don’t care how bad you think you feel about those kids, you don’t really care unless you’re willing to do something about it.”

It was the same thing that she told him at the hospital. The first time he heard it, it made his chest fill with rage. This time, it was like being punched in the gut. As much as he hated it, he knew that there was some truth in what she was saying.

“This isn’t all or nothing,” Bridget went on. “You don’t have to be the one to catch the murderer. Everyone has their part to play.”

“Why… do you care?” he asked.

“Because I love this city,” Bridget smiled. “Because I’ve met people that make me want to make it a better place.”

Tristan was in shock. It was the first time he had seen Bridget smile so sincerely. It was like he walked out to a stage and a spotlight, and he had no idea what his lines were. The fact that she was an attractive woman wasn’t exactly helping either.

“You know,” Bridget’s smile faded as quickly as it appeared, but her face looked much less hostile than before. “Super strength isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.”

“W-What do you mean?” Tristan stammered. He still couldn’t believe that Bridget wasn’t threating to punch him in the face or something.

“When I was a kid, I didn’t know how to control myself,” Bridget continued. “I would get in fights, and the other kids would end up in the hospital.”

He didn’t say anything, but the kid version of Bridget didn’t sound all that different from the Bridget he knew.

“It didn’t take long for people to stop messing with me,” she said. “And it didn’t take long for me to notice that I didn’t have any friends.”

“I know what that’s like,” Tristan said. “That was just because I kept to myself, though.”

Bridget didn’t seem happy that he had added in his two cents, and Tristan picked up on the hint. He stopped talking. It certainly wasn’t every day that Bridget opened up to people, so he didn’t want to mess this up.

“Anyway,” Bridget narrowed her eyes. “After a while, I accepted it. I didn’t like being alone, but there was nothing I could do about it. That was just the way I was.” She made sure to put emphasis on the last part.

“So what made you change your mind?” Tristan asked.

“I met someone that told me what I told you,” she tilted her head slightly and smirked. “And I accepted that, while I didn’t need to fix my anger issues all by myself, it also didn’t mean that I wasn’t responsible for doing some of the work.”

“I… see.”

“Look, I’m not going to sit here and pretend like I’m all sunshine and rainbows now,” she managed to say exactly what Tristan thought. “But I accepted that if I really cared, I was going to have to do something about it.”

Tristan sat picking his words for a few moments before speaking. “I think I understand now,” he said.

“Cool.”

“I think I owe you an apology,” he went on. “For what happened at the hospital.”

“Oh stop, don’t get all touchy-feely on me too,” Bridget sighed.

“You’re… kind of giving me mixed messages here.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Bridget picked up he mug again and finished off her water. “Anyway, I’m going to play a set. You’re welcome to stay if you want.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” Tristan said. He didn’t exactly have the best experience hearing her play last time, but he supposed he owed her another chance now.

“One more thing,” Bridget stood up. “Physical or mental strength doesn’t mean anything,” she put her hand on her hip. “It’s knowing that we’re weak and still trying that makes us strong.”

“Pfft,” Tristan laughed. “That sounds memorized.”

“That’s because it is, dumbass,” Bridget knocked his glass off the table, sending it flying against the wall and breaking it into pieces. Everyone in the bar turned to look at them.

“God damn it, Bridget,” the man behind the bar slapped his hand over her face.

“It’s my mantra,” Bridget looked like she was putting a lot of effort into not yelling. “I thought… you might be able to use it.”

Tristan didn’t move a muscle. “Oh,” his voice came out high pitched. “Thank you.”

With that, Bridget turned on her heel and walked to the corner where her guitar was. Tristan relaxed, letting himself melt into his chair. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure what had just happened, but he felt a lot better than before.

He just sat, listening to Bridget play. She actually wasn’t half bad. She started off shaky, but she got better as she went on. People even started cheering when she played a Sadie Quasar cover.

It felt like he was seeing yet another side of her, and he felt like an idiot for writing her off so quickly.

Well, maybe not. After all, the first thing she did when he saw he was throw a guitar at him. He supposed he couldn’t really blame himself for thinking she was insane.

Still, he was glad he knew her.

An hour flew by, and he hardly even noticed. When Bridget finished playing, everyone there burst into applause. Regulars were quick to point out that it was her best performance yet.

When the applause stopped, he noticed the sound of something else. Everyone in the bar went silent as they noticed it as well.

Outside, people were screaming.

He exchanged a look with Bridget and nodded. Without a second thought, he got up from his chair and ran to the leave the bar.

He might not have been a hero, but his mind was made up. He would see this through to the end.