"Rest is a fine medicine..."

I was 12 when my power manifested. My mom had been cutting vegetables for dinner that night and sliced her finger when I accidentally bumped into her. It wasn't a serious cut, probably would've needed a couple stitches at most, but I hated seeing people hurt. When I grasped her finger to check the wound all I could think was that I wished the cut would go away, and it did. 

My parents were overjoyed, and so was I. A healing ability! I could be helpful! I could help people in ways no one could!

Now, I wish that I didn’t have a power at all.

When I got older I became known as "The Doctor", the person every superhero came to when they were wounded. (My parents actually bought me a white lab coat for me to wear while on duty, I even wore it while I was at home for a little while). 

And at first, I was ecstatic, how could I not be? I would be working with people like Zephr (Master of the Winds), Red Fang (who’s wit was as sharp as the knives they wielded), Atomistress (the woman who could shrink anything or anyone to the size of an atom), Supernova (who could create waves of energy as powerful as their namesake), Siege (who had the strength of an entire army), The Shadow Man (the man who could command shadows and darkness), and Geostorm (who could bend the Earth and sky). 

Helping the world's greatest superheroes in their time of need, hearing their thanks and seeing them fly into battle and winning, knowing that it was because of me that they were able to win that fight made me so proud. 

I was a different person then. Naive, wide-eyed and optimistic. Looking at the world through rose coloured glasses.

As time went on their gratitude dwindled until they were grumbling at me to hurry up so they could jump back into the fight, leaving without a word. “The Doctor” became my name instead of my title, I doubt any of them actually remember my real name. When they step up to the podium and thank their comrades for helping them defend this world they never mention the person who mended their bones, closed their wounds, made sure that they could go out and save others.

I realized that I was no longer a person to them, I was simply a...a tool. Like one of their fancy cars or nifty gadgets. Useful, but meant to stand there and look pretty until they were needed.

If you looked at a picture of me then and then looked me now, you probably wouldn’t even be able to tell it was the same person, I sure can’t. The last time I saw my parents my mom said that my eyes are...dimmer, less bright than they were when I started. The way I move is sluggish, like I’m dragging my feet wherever I go. She said that it’s like I’ve lost the spark I had, it took everything I had not to break down and admit that she was right. Instead I smiled and told her that I just hadn’t been sleeping well. (that was nearly a month ago, I should really call them, shouldn’t I? But I know that if I do I wouldn’t be able to lie to them again and would end up falling apart. How disappointed would they be in me if they knew how ungrateful I was being for having this opportunity?)

I’m not saying that I want a trophy or anything, but if I could just have a “thank you”, a pat on the back, anything so I know that I actually matter...

...I’m just so tired.

Now 2 hours ago, aliens attacked (it’s always aliens, why is it always aliens?)

Normally this would be pretty cut and dry. Aliens attack, superheroes fight back, I heal a couple broken arms and the aliens are sent back with their tails between their legs, the superheroes get their applause and I get shoved to the back until I’m needed again.

But today it’s different. 

It was only after the battle was done that they realized the aliens had managed to take down one of our most powerful supers.

Which is how I got here, with Mega-Man, the Earth’s most powerful superhero lying in a cot dying in front of me with the rest of the superhero squad yelling at me to save him.

But here’s the thing, I know that if I heal him, I’ll be killing me. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just… a feeling, a tiny voice in the back of my head telling me, warning me that this will be the last person I’ll save. 

But everywhere around me they’re yelling that I have to save him, that this world is doomed without him, and I know they’re right. 

After all, he’s the hero, I’m just the help.

So I place my hands on his chest, and summon everything I have into making sure he lives.

As I’m healing him I can feel myself starting to lose feeling everywhere, I start to see in double, but I hold on.

And his eyes open, his chest rises under my palms as he takes his first full breath in over half an hour, and the supers cheer.

But I can’t hear them, sound and feeling are muffled, I can see darkness creeping in the edges of my sight. I just manage to see their faces turn from joyous to horrified as I feel myself fall backwards and the world starts to spin too fast for me to keep track of anything anymore.

As I faintly make out people shouting around me (“Don’t just stand there, get a medic!” “He is the medic!”), I ponder that I should be scared about dying, but as the world goes dark my only thought is that now I can finally rest…