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world would be to stop it entirely, that they were as much part of the problem as the solution, I just didn't want to hurt my friends that way.  Now, though ... if Ex wanted to push that way, he could get to know the truth.
    "Okay, alright."  I turned from the window and right up to him until we were practically nose-to-neck.  "You want to know the big answer to that?  I'll tell you ..."
    In one fell swoop (more like in one raging tirade), Extinguisher became the fifth person I knew of in the world to know the truth of the Whiteout.  Also, our roller coaster ride of a relationship ran out of track, becoming a horrible, mangled wreck.  We avoided being alone with each other from that point on, though we both knew how important the Five's and the Foundation's work was.  Our unspoken rule was to not let the hurt show and to keep those two wild, crazy, passionate months hidden from our friends and colleagues.
     
    It was the spiraling descent that broke me out of the past.  On more pleasant days, I would have my head leaned against Ex's back, using him like a cuddly ice pack for whatever bruise or cut I had from a day's work, and we'd always hit that particular spiral down to my apartment window.  Why did he feel compelled to come this way?  He had three whole axis of movement to plan his approach but instead he chose the one path that would bring those pangs of memory into me.  I grit my teeth, not from pain, but surety.  I wasn't going to let myself fall into the trap of self-doubt and recrimination.
    As we spiraled around the eight-story office building, I could see that Rachel's call to arms had brought not only Extinguisher in from patrol, but the Human Tank as well.  The eager cyborg teen had worn a tread in the loading dock entrance.  I could only guess that Ex had called in during our return trip, as Tank had a cushion set on his tank-like lower body.  Finally setting down, I didn't even voice a complaint and flopped down on the cushion, stomach first.
    "Finally, someone I'm happy to see."

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    "Heya, Indy; heya, Ex; heya, armored dude, I'm really glad to see you too because I was with Eye and we were tracking clues on that Mackenzie dude and then Rachel called so I tore treads back here and then Ex called so I got here!" the Human Tank enthused.  "How bad are you banged up, not too bad I hope, and anyway who's the new guy, I don't recognize him, so is he a new local or an out-of-towner?"
    "Tank," Ex managed to get a word in as the excitable cyborg paused for breath.  "Just take Indy to the infirmary.  I'll show our 'guest' to where he needs to go."  He was very unhappy with the situation and I couldn't blame him.  Just because I was willing to put up with a Crusader for the moment didn't mean I was jumping up for joy about the idea.  Of course, at the moment, I didn't feel like jumping at all.  Fortunately, Archer, having landed down beside us in the loading area, kept his lips sealed in what had to be a rare burst of common sense.
    "Okay, here we go!" Tank called out behind him.  I gave him a clap on the back with my good arm as we rolled up through the loading dock doors.  The Foundation didn't often need the dock for conventional purposes but how else would a kid with tank treads for legs get into the place?  "You've gotta stop getting beat up so much, Indy, I get all worried about you because you're not a Pushed even if you're kinda like one but you seem to get hurt a lot more than we do and you're like my best bud!"
    I grumbled some kind of complaint but, in essence, Tank was correct.  I didn't have a sheath of unreality covering my body to protect the squishy bits.  Even the physically weakest of the Pushed had inhuman durability for that one reason.  I had ... skin.  Even my one 'super power' sent my body into overdrive so much that my metabolism ate through my body's calorie reserves fast.  If I used it for too long, it was potentially lethal in and of itself.  So why was