Emily grabbed her purse and followed me to the door. "That's the lady whose kid died, right?"

I couldn't shake Jinn's warning about enemies, so I'd come back to the apartment to see if Em would join me. She called her boss and took another personal day without hesitation.

"Kevin," I said. My voice cracked. "His name was Kevin."

She grabbed my hand before I could open the apartment door and turned me around to face her. She wrapped me up in a hug. "I'm sorry."

Those two words crashed into me. The stress, pain, sorrow, and anger of the last day and a half fell on me like an avalanche. I tried to rise above the freezing snow, but I had no more strength.

I cried.

I didn't cry the manly tears of an athlete who fell just short of a championship, or the reserved tears of a father who's seen his child born. I cried like a banshee trapped in a holy circle. I tasted the salty snot that ran into my mouth just before another round of blubbering pushed it out.

Through my wails and convulsions, Emily sat beside me, stroking my hair. She didn't try to assure me it was going to be okay, nor did she offer hollow platitudes. She just sat there and continued stroking my hair.

The tears stopped after—I don't know how long. The shuddering sobs arrested shortly after that. I was ashamed and didn't want to look at Em, but I forced myself to meet her eyes; tears filled them too.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

She put her forehead on mine. "Shush, it's better to let it out."

It took a long time to compose myself. Em didn't rush me. The two of us sat on my carpet and held each other. I felt something gritty in the fibers; was it time to get another deep clean? Em must have noticed some slight change in my expression.

"What's up?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just something stupid. I don't even know why I thought of it."

"Come on." She tried a tentative smile. "You can't just leave it like that. What is it?"

"I was just thinking about whether or not it was time to clean the carpet.”

"Men," she said. "When you can't fix yourselves, you just try to fix everything else."

I didn't respond. She might have had a point, or I might have just noticed an incongruous detail that sparked a question. Who's to say which was correct?

Em's car rumbled down I-35. Now that I was awake, I wished I was asleep again. It made way too much noise.

"Why on earth did you buy this thing?"

"Man's car for a man's world," she said.

"What are you, a feminist all of a sudden?" I worried she wouldn't hear me over the engine.

"Fine," she conceded, "I've always wanted a Corvette. Now that I have one though—"

Being a man, I was probably supposed to know about Corvettes, but beyond having four wheels and needing gas, I didn't know shit about cars. If the rough ride of this thing were indicative of all sports cars, though, I'd take my Nissan any day.

"Yeah," I said. "It's great."

"Don't patronize me," she said. She fought to keep the car straight. The damned thing lurched at every imperfection in the road.

Buda was only a few miles south of Austin, for which I was thankful. When she pulled into the Target parking lot, I wasted no time getting out of the car. We met Beth in the Starbucks inside the store.

"God, it's like putting a shithouse next to a bakery," I said.

"What?" Beth said.

I held up my hand to her, palm out. We ordered our drinks, but the look on the barista's face told me I was likely to get a little extra something in mine. She must have heard me.

"Big-box stores always smell…off," I said, "and I don't like the way it mingles with more pleasant smells."

"I never noticed," Beth said.

I looked her over. She was haggard, and it was apparent it hadn't been long since she cried last. Em sat next to me, and Beth took the seat opposite us. The barista brought our drinks. She smiled at Em and Beth but glared at me.

"I wouldn't drink that," Em said.

I sipped my coffee. "It can't be any worse than a mouthful of snot." The two women looked at me. "Ah, not appropriate table conversation," I said.

We settled into our drinks. None of us wanted to break the uneasy silence. Every so often, one of us would look up from our cups, catch another's eyes, and look back down.

"This is silly," Em said. "Beth, I don't want to be rude, but why did you ask David to come here?"

Anger flashed in Beth's eyes, and she looked directly at me. "I want to know why you didn't save Kevin."

"You aren't seriously blaming—" Em started.

"Easy," I said. "It's a fair question." I flinched when I met Beth’s eyes. "The explosion threw me into the street, and I was disoriented. I didn't see him until after I pulled you free. Frankly, it's a damn miracle I was able to do anything at all."

The chatter of customers filled the silence that followed. One of the baristas dropped a carafe, and an asshole in the back clapped. I added a little more sugar to my coffee. It tasted bitter all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," I said. "If I could do it all over again, I would try harder, or move faster, or—I don't know, do something different." I reached out to Beth. She didn't recoil when I took her hand. "You're right to blame me."

"I just don't understand why it had to be him," Beth said. Heavy sobs made her words difficult to understand. "Nobody else died, just him."

I didn't say anything. I knew why it had to be Kevin. His death was the only thing harsh enough to balance the scales—the only thing worthy of a million dollars and a homeless man's health. And it was undeniably my fault.

"Beth," Em said. "it was an accident. Please don't blame David. He did everything he could. He's a good man."

"Don't blame him?" Beth said. "Of course, I blame him! What kind of monster doesn't save a child? You asked why I wanted you to come here; it was so I could look him in the eye and make him know how much I hate him. How much I will always hate him."

She tossed the rest of her drink on me and stormed away.

"That bitch," Em said, "you didn't deserve that."

"Yes, I did. She needs someone to blame, a reason why her son died. But it is my fault. My actions led to Kevin's death."

"That's stupid," Em said. "Would you blame a random soldier for the war he's fighting in? What you did was the result of someone else. You had even less choice in the matter than a soldier. You physically couldn't disobey."

"Maybe it would be better if I went away," I said.

"Don't start that," Em said. "When we first met, I had a crush on you. When you started at Dev-Tech, I thought it was infatuation. Last night, I realized crushes and infatuation don't last years. I love you, and I'm not going to let you rob me—rob us, of our chance at happiness."

"You love me?" I said. "I'm not even me anymore! Hell, I'm not even mortal. Do you understand what that means?"

The background noise of customers and workers stopped. Every gaze focused on us and our outbursts. I suppressed the anger and resentment welling up in me.

"I've seen Highlander," Em said. "Just make sure you light a candle for me on my birthday."

I laughed; I couldn't help myself. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me smile when all I want to do is curl up and cry, or put my fist through a wall," I said.

God, she was beautiful, and I couldn’t deny I had strong feelings for her. I suppose they rose to the level of love.

"For someone whose whole existence now revolves around maintaining the Universal Probability, I would think you'd know the answer to that." Her smile pulled me in. "I'm your counter-balance, the one who will never let you forget your humanity."