31

SAT FEB 26

Dinah lived in the nicer part of town, just past Captain's Hill. When we hashed out the options for lunch, the choices boiled down to walking to the nearest bus stop and heading to the Boardwalk or elsewhere, and just walking to get something. The nicer parts of town had bus stops aplenty, the rich folk demanding their commodities as they do, but so few people used those routes, the buses only came by every half hour to save on gas and driver wages. In the end, we decided waiting up to twenty minutes for a twenty-minute bus trip was less appealing than just taking the hour or so walk to the mall near the Towers.

We detoured through the park that made up most of the Hill, adding a few minutes to the trip, but giving us more to look at for almost a third of the trek. After that we could swing south through the industrial park, or keep heading east through the nicer southern tip of the residential sector sprawled through the middle of the city. I stopped Amy before we could choose one.

About six blocks south-southeast, a scuffle caught my attention. Most of the crime I saw when I was 'off the clock' like this were things like drug deals and prostitution. Non-violent crimes that I didn't always feel the need to call in, especially when I was with someone else. This looked like a mugging though, at best. Two men, one of them dragging a woman into an alley near the boundary between the commercial and industrial sections, where people and open businesses were scarce.

I stopped Amy, waffling for a moment, before I shook my head. I was going to tell Amy about my senses anyway, and someone needed help. "Assault, six blocks that way." I pointed.

"How do you-?" She was obviously, rightfully confused. We didn't have time, though.

"I'll tell you later. We need to go." I didn't bother picking her up when I turned to start jogging. There were enough people around that someone was bound to see, if I did. As long as it didn't progress to anything sexual or life-threatening, Amy being on the way meant the situation could wait for identity's sake.

Amy groaned at the prospect of running and frustration at my obstinate secrecy, but she caught up twenty seconds later, and I set my pace to her running speed after that. We were halfway there when I started to realize what was probably happening. The men didn't seem to care about the woman's money or anything else she might have, and were making no motions to escalate sexually. It looked like they were just... beating a helpless woman. My suspicion was confirmed when I saw the two white men looming over the broken and bloody black woman, curled into the corner of the wall and a dumpster, shielding them from the busier commercial side of the alleyway.

I cried out to get their attention, the two looking over in confusion to find me glaring and fuming, while Amy huffed and panted slightly at my side, taking in the scene. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I snapped.

"You got a problem-?" The smaller, scrappier looking one with a shaved head snapped back, before the larger one put a hand on his shoulder. He shook his head when the skinhead glanced his way.

"Don't need trouble with nice girls like those." He rumbled. He looked decent enough, if you ignored the blood on his knuckles. A strong jaw, broad cheekbones and a slightly large nose that made his eyes look beady, and short brown hair. He was a sharp contrast with his weaselly looking partner.

The smaller man scoffed, but started for the other exit. The big guy shrugged, and had the audacity to look our way apologetically. He wasn't sorry for what'd happened, but rather that 'nice girls' like us had seen it. That, more than anything since I'd arrived, left me absolutely livid. I barely restrained myself from charging them then, but they were still too close to the woman and Amy, who'd rushed over when they started to leave.

"Oh, shit." She muttered over the woman's whimpering. "I'm sorry, this'll only take a second..." She pulled out her phone, and started taking pictures. Her powers erased evidence, and I hated that she thought it might be necessary to document it, despite the scene and her ruined clothes.

None of that mattered if they couldn't track down the assailants, though. With that thought, I sprinted down the alley, eating the distance in two seconds. I made enough noise that the little guy was turning, but that just put the side of his jaw where I could jab my fist into it. He tumbled the last meter to the end of the alley, while I turned on the big guy. His eyes were wide, and he was full of surprise and confusion. I'd already punched him three times before he got his hands up; kidney, spleen, stomach. At that point he was curling in on himself, only worried about the pain, and shying away from further blows. I tripped him, sending him to the ground behind me before I turned back to the skinhead.

At this point, the smart move would have been to run. I might've even let him go, with his softer friend left to squeal on him. He was just a thug though, and with his brain addled by the pain of a broken jaw and the rattling of his brain, he decided the best option was to pull a knife while he was clumsily staggering to his feet. He spat words I couldn't make out through his clenched and swelling jaw, before he leapt at me blade-first.

I caught his wrist and twisted it, then sent a quick chop to the side of his neck. The knife slipped from his fingers and I tugged him forward by his wrist. My other hand snaked to the other side of his head, to grip his scalp and slam his forehead into my knee. He reeled away to land on his back in a groaning heap.

His friend was almost to his feet when I turned back, so I wandered over to kick his knee out from under him. "Stay down." I hissed as I pressed my foot down on his back. "We have anything to tie them up with?"

Amy took a moment to dig through her kit, and tossed a sachet of zip cuffs my way. I grunted, surprised but relieved, and took half a minute to figure out how they worked and lash his hands together. By the time I'd gotten his feet just to be thorough, weasel had rolled onto his stomach and was trying to crawl away this time. I pounced, heaving him by the back of his jacket to send him tumbling over to his immobilized friend with an exaggerated roar of effort- more frustration than anything- and started the process of binding him as well.

"Stay the fuck down this time." I growled. I glanced over to Amy, who looked about done. The woman was asleep, either she'd passed out, or Amy'd knocked her out. "What the hell? There's a truce on, dammit."

Weasel grumbled, but didn't speak. Either he was in too much pain to try, or he'd decided to do the smart thing and clam up now that he was caught. The bigger guy seemed scared, though. "The... the truce is for capes, though."

I pinned him with a venomous glare. "You're in a cape gang, working for the cape's interests. You don't see other countries saying 'Oh, it can't possibly be a diplomatic incident, they're not soldiers or diplomats that did whatever it was.' No, they throw your ass in prison and blame the country you can't not represent, for it!" I very much wanted to throttle the idiot, but hitting him more than I already had wasn't going to fix anything. "As far as I'm concerned, you are breaking the truce." I pulled my phone out, and turned back to Amy. "Is she going to be okay?"

"She'll be fine." Amy groused. "Hungry, I had to regrow some teeth and fix a lot of internal bleeding, but she'll be fine."

I nodded, and dialed 911. I told them that myself and a friend had stepped in to stop two men who were assaulting a woman, but held off on identifying said friend by name as long as possible. I didn't want to just get re-routed to the PRT, or have them not take the woman's plight seriously because Panacea was already on scene. In the end, they'd sent out two cruisers and an ambulance, and didn't bother transferring me over. I still wanted to keep 'Taylor' as far from the PRT's eye as possible, for now.

They arrived mostly at the same time. The first police car arrived with two male officers, then the second with a man and a woman. The four of them were heading in by the time the ambulance arrived, the two from the back heading to the alley's entrance to wait for the all-clear, while the driver stayed near the vehicle for now.

"You're miss Hebert?" The lead officer asked, to which I nodded. "Okay, please fill us in on what happened." The other two men went to check the criminals were secured, while the female officer headed for Amy and the woman. They were all white men, but the woman looked Latino, which had me hopeful at least she and her partner weren't Empire sympathizers.

"Amy and I were heading towards the mall to get lunch, when I heard something. I checked the alley, and found those two looming over the woman." I indicated each when they came up. The female officer waved the EMTs over, and they rushed to check the woman. "They looked aggressive, and I saw blood on their knuckles and boots, which looked awfully suspicious, so I confronted them. That one started yelling at me, but the other stopped him. Then they tried to leave, so I subdued them while Amy was looking after her. Then Amy gave me some cuffs for them, when they wouldn't stop trying to fight back."

"You… subdued them?" He stated incredulously enough that it came off as a question.

I gave a deep, groaning sigh. "My dad's with the Dockworkers. His co-workers showed me how to take care of myself." I didn't know why, but looking weak just rankled, now that I was strong. "I'm good enough that I teach a martial arts class after school. It wasn't even that hard, weasel-face has a glass jaw, and his buddy folded after a kidney shot." I shook my head derisively. "They just wouldn't stay down after I put them there. First guy pulled a knife when he got back up- it's over there, by the way-" I pointed it out helpfully, and one of the other cops grabbed a glove from his pocket and moved to retrieve it. "so I had to disarm him, then the second guy tried to run, so I kicked his leg out from under him…" Now that I said it out loud, it… actually sounded a little brutal, honestly. "I was trying to avoid hurting them too much, but they kept getting back up, and after what they did to her..."

I shook my head, rubbing my arms to try and fight back a shiver. The man bristled at my words though, his internal signals showing indignation, frustration, anger... probably a sympathizer. "There's self-defense, and then there's excessive escalation. Our job is catching criminals. Yours is staying as safe as possible."

Before I could argue the point, the female officer cut in. "Excessive my ass, Stills." She came over and held her blue-gloved hand out, cupped around a dozen bloody teeth. "From what Panacea said, the woman would've died from a ruptured kidney if they hadn't been here."

The man sneered, but didn't contest the evidence. He moved over to help frog-march the captives to one of the cars, now that their hands and shoes were swabbed, and their feet cut loose. The female officer rolled her eyes and gave me an apologetic grunt, while her free hand dug out an evidence bag to pour the teeth into. I responded with a commiserating hum, and a 'what can you do?' shrug. She snorted and shook her head, turning her glove inside out and holding out her hand. "Theresa Maza."

I took it. "Taylor Hebert." I glanced back to where Amy was talking with the EMTs. "I'm… actually a little surprised you guys didn't call the PRT."

She followed my gaze and snorted. "She didn't fight, and you're not a cape." I very carefully didn't flinch when she stated this. "The worst they're going to do is call you in to get your account straight from you, instead of trusting our version. I don't expect they'll bother." She gave a rueful chuckle as she dug out a pen and pad. "I mean, they'll kick up a stink about it, it's what they do, but you shouldn't have to worry. That said, we're going to need a better account than what I overheard. Blow-by-blow, starting from the top, if you can."

That sounded fine, and she seemed earnest enough… I started again from the lie of having heard something while we were on the way to lunch, and went into more detail from there. While I was going over that, answering a few extra questions, then asked to go over a couple parts again, Amy finished up with the woman and the EMTs. They decided the hospital was a better place for an unconscious but fine woman, whom was likely to become emotional after waking up, than the police station. They left in the ambulance, and the first two cops headed back to the station with the gangsters.

Amy gave her side of things next, while Theresa's partner triple-checked the scene. It was a much shorter account than mine, Amy repeatedly evading several questions by citing her focus on healing at the time.

After that, she offered us a ride to wherever we were going. She reasoned that, while we were smart enough to not wander gang territory alone, and two white girls were probably fine around here, it was still better to be safe. She didn't even bring up Amy being a cape, and we didn't press the issue. At least for me, I realized that anyone with the resources to abduct a cape and keep it secret wouldn't care who Amy was, especially if they could pin it on the Empire or something.

Were Kaiser's goons smart enough to pull off faking too much evidence pointing their way, making it look like they were just being set up? Most of my interactions with the Empire were blunted by my skin color, but they didn't seem prone to high-risk high-reward gambles like that. Or, they just managed to never be caught.

I decided to stop worrying myself into a paranoid pit, and accept the offer on our behalf.

---

Lunch was a simple affair, having been dropped off at a burger and sandwich place in a little strip mall near a bus stop. It was more expensive than the usual greasetraps teenagers stopped in at, but wasn't so fancy we looked out of place there. At least the burgers we both defaulted to were pretty good.

The meal, along with the bus ride downtown, and the one to my neighborhood, were rather quiet and tense, though. Both of us knew the other had secrets now, mutually waiting out getting the other alone to demand answers.

I knew from the moment we were off the bus that Dad wasn't home alone. There were a couple other trucks around, two in the drive including Dad's, and another parked on the curb that looked to be full of scrap wood and had one of those bolt-in locking tool chests in the bed right behind the cab. Dad and two other men were in the kitchen, he and one of them sanding down the raised splinters on the table, while the other inspected the floor. It looked like they'd already fixed the table's leg by that point.

The walk home was silent, Amy walking behind me, and frequently shifting between staring thoughtfully and glaring accusationally at me. I spent the walk trying to figure out why one of the men seemed familiar. I decided it was probably Jake or Gerard, since I'd spent enough time around them that they'd seem familiar, but not enough to recognize them instantly like with Dad, and they had similar builds and hair lengths.

When we got to the house, I stopped for a moment to stare at the pale, unvarnished wood where the old rotten step used to be. I swallowed thickly, my chest constricting in a dull ache I didn't quite understand the reason for. The rest of it was dark and weathered, being decades old, but it was sturdy enough. As I watched the men inside now working on trying to fix the floor without the extra work of having to pry up any of the hardwood, I felt slightly mortified any of that was necessary, but also conflicted. The step, which had started to represent the extent of the stagnation of our lives... it was fixed now.

Because I threw a fit.

"Are... you okay?" Amy asked, glancing between me and the step.

"Yeah." I lied, before shaking my head. "No. I don't know." It didn't seem right. I knew this had only been fixed because they were already here doing woodwork. They'd seen the rotten step on their way in, and might have fixed it without even asking Dad, knowing some of the dockworkers. This thing that'd needed doing for so long that it seemed like it'd never be resolved, changed because I had a brief, violently frustrated moment of weakness. It didn't feel good. "It's stupid."

She eyed the fixed step again, and the trucks nearby. Her eyes lingered on the truck a quarter-full of wood chunks, mismatched planks, and the odd panels tossed on top. "I don't get it." She muttered, then turned back to me. "But it's not stupid, if you're this worked up over it."

I pawed at my wet eyes, and groaned. It was nice that she didn't seem as mad, but I still felt stupid for getting this worked up over something so seemingly pointless. "I feel like..." I started, then sighed. I waved at the step. "That was never getting fixed. It just... wasn't. I didn't ask, dad didn't bother. We both just got used to ignoring it. They're..." Well, I was going to tell her anyway, right? "They're inside fixing the table. I think... dad might actually keep trying to fix things, now." Amy still looked confused, and there were undercurrents of curiosity, frustration, and indignation at the hints about the powers I was keeping secret. Outwardly she was projecting a calm that gave way to her waning patience. I shook my head. "I just don't like that having a tantrum made something happen. It's just... childish. It feels cheap and wrong."

Amy stared blankly at me for several seconds. "That is pretty stupid." I flinched, curling inward slightly, away from the sting of the words. She sighed. "I was there, remember? You didn't 'throw a tantrum', you had an argument. Then you forgot you were a Brute. Do you have any idea how often Vicky used to do that? At least you've never hurt anyone by accident."

Was that how it went? I still felt like I'd been out of line, overreacting… maybe if I hadn't broken the table, I'd see things the same way she did? If I hadn't done that, and crashed afterward… I didn't want to think of the irrational levels of horror my mind had dropped into after that. My mind went back over her words. "Is that what you meant? With Vicky, yesterday?"

Amy stared blankly my way, her slightly wider eyes the only tell on her poker face. "Yeah." She lied, her stomach a knot of worry.

"Amy…?" I pressed, meaningfully.

Her mood spiked into anger. "Vicky's getting better, and it's not my place to say." She snapped.

"That's fine." I conceded, raising my hands briefly and backing up a little. I could always get the story from Vicky, later. "I was, uh. I wanted to talk about you and me, anyway."

Amy's glare didn't let up, but her whole body clenched, her heart started thundering in her chest, and her cheeks took on a rosy tint. "Fine." She spat, after a moment.

Deciding there was no use beating around the bush, I headed for the house and let us in. Amy shut the door while I poked my head into the kitchen. Dad gave a tired greeting from where he was smoothing out a glob of resin to fill in the new divots on the table. Gerard and Kurt were finishing up sanding and buffing down the floor for the same process, in the couple places it'd cracked and splintered a little.

Kurt took one glance at my guilty look, and huffed. "Don't know what you dropped to do this Danny, but it must've been a hell of a thing." The barb wasn't subtle at all, intended to make me feel bad for whatever part I had in what happened. Despite myself, it was rather effective.

It still drew sour looks from the rest of the room, including Amy as she settled behind me. "Yeah, it was quite the accident you're not helping me fix, right now." Dad sniped back. Kurt shrugged, and dropped it.

Gerard sighed at the byplay. "Almost done, here. Pass that over?" Dad crossed the little bit of room from where they'd moved the table to hand over the little mixing tub. He used his time sitting up to shoot an apologetic glance my way, before he went back to work. Dad grabbed the broom sitting nearby to start piling up the dust and wood shavings away from the workspace, again.

Amy nudged me from behind, and I perked up a bit. "Oh, right. We're heading to my room." Dad nodded, and I slumped off toward the stairs. Amy claimed my desk chair again, and I groaned as soon as I'd shut the door. "Sorry, about that." Then I flopped down on my bed and curled up a bit. It just felt like one of those days, now.

"It's not you." She conceded. "We still need to talk, though."

I groaned again, unfurled myself, and sat up straight on the edge of the bed. "Right, yeah." How to word this? I took almost a minute to play the sentence out in my head, a few times. "I have a Thinker power. Sort of." I winced a little as her stare sharpened intently. "It's… kinda' kludged together from my other powers. At least part of it is. I can…" I took a moment to breathe. Calm my nerves. "I can sense vibrations through the ground. Really well. Ridiculously well. It's why I wear stuff like this." I lifted my feet to show the bottom of my shoes, which… she'd seen before, I think. That must have seemed weird to her. "It took a while, but I figured out how to tell where things are, what they look like, how they're moving, based on feedback from the vibrations they make, and the ones moving through them. Rubber soles, tires, springs, carpet… lots of things make it harder."

"That doesn't sound so bad." Amy stated, her voice a forced calm that demanded to know what I still wasn't telling her.

I grimaced, fidgeting and worrying at my hands for a few moments. "I can… tell when people are lying. I can see things. Heart rate, breathing, muscle tension, blood flow…I think…" I blinked, hopping to my feet. The way she flinched away slightly made my chest ache, but I had to press on. "I think it's a little like your power. You can tell when people are lying too, when you touch them, right?"

She nodded, that wary fear as she reassessed me giving way to that familiar tension of hiding her secrets. "Yeah?" She muttered.

"I want you to touch me." I held out my hand, and she tensed, body clenching again as her eyes glanced from my hand to my feet, up my body, and back to the hand. "I want you to know I'm not lying." She seemed to debate with herself for a moment, her emotions cycling between wary anxiety, fear, confidence, resignation, and determination. Then she nodded, turned her powers back on, and took my hand. "I didn't want to tell you because I was scared. Especially… after Dinah." I glanced away, hunching down a little and regretting my lack of a seat. "You were worried I was using her to read you. To get to you." My chest was tight, and my voice was cracking. I didn't want to be standing for this. I tugged at Amy, and she followed me up and over to my bed, where we could both sit together. "I wasn't using Dinah's powers." I said with more confidence, after a second to compose myself.

"You were using yours." Her voice was soft, but still laced with accusation. She was angry, but not as much as I'd feared. She was more anxious and disappointed than anything.

I pushed down the hurt and anxiety, soldiering on with a shrug while I waggled my free hand in the air. "I'm pretty good at it now, but I couldn't do it when we met. It took me weeks to get good enough, and I still need to actually figure out what I'm seeing and guess right… it's not a real Thinker power. Not like the examples I've seen online." And nothing like Lisa's, either. Thinkers didn't seem to have any trouble interpreting their powers, except for the weaker precogs. "Just enhanced senses, used in a really specific way." I was rambling now. I could tell, but I didn't know how to stop. I didn't want to stop, in case stopping might cost me my friend. "I can only tell emotions, most of the time. I can't tell what you're thinking, what you want, what you like, I just… know what makes you happy, or angry, or…" I only realized I was hyperventilating when she squeezed my hand hard to get my attention.

"Stop freaking out." She sighed. I could tell she felt conflicted. Frustrated, but resigned. There was a tension to her chest, and a blustery rouge dusting her cheeks.

"Sorry, just… scared." I muttered.

"I can tell," She bit off whatever name she was going to call me, and sighed. The tension and anxiety were building up again, and I could feel my own following suit. "What is this really about?" I was confused, tilting my head a bit, before my anxiety spiked in response to her grim resignation.

I gripped her hand a little tighter. "I can tell when you're lying." I'd already said that, but it was worth repeating. "About Vicky. About… your powers." She flinched, gripping my hand as she was flooded with anxious tension. I could feel the thoughts flooding through her mind from her flickering emotions, though I couldn't tell what they were. Fear, determination, horror, shame, rage, loathing… Whatever was racing through her mind, I felt the need to stop it. "Amy. What are your powers?"

She froze, staring down at our laced hands. She tried to let go, but I held my grip. "You shouldn't…" She muttered.

"I trust you." I said firmly.

Amy smiled, but it was a mad, brittle thing. "You shouldn't." She reiterated softly.

I hesitated slightly, but never let up my grip on her hand. She was scared and ashamed, and she hated herself. Whatever this was, I had to help her. "What are your powers, Amy?"

She glanced down, and swallowed thickly. "I'm a biokinetic." She let that hang in the air, and chuckled at my incomprehension. Of course she was. "Anything I touch, I can shape, and change, and mould. Muscle, bone, organs… even down to the genetic level. I can just… change people."

"You're not just a healer." I stated flatly. She nodded, staring down at our hands. I stared too, for a bit. "Okay."

"You're not scared of me?" She asked, despite the fact that I knew she could feel that I was. It wasn't fear, but… you can't not be wary of that kind of power. It was absolutely terrifying. I still didn't let go of her hand, though.

I shrugged. "I trust you."

Her breathing hitched and her chest clenched. She took in a shaky breath, and seemed to barely be holding back tears as she leaned into my shoulder for support. I swapped her hand to my other one, to wrap my closer arm around her shoulders. I held her like that for a few minutes, while she regained her composure. Then she started getting more anxious.

"I…" She muttered, and I hummed to acknowledge her. Her nerves almost got the better of her. "I trust you, too." She said, and I hugged her tighter.

A little while later, I asked, "So, what do you want to do now?"

She tensed, her heart starting to thud a little harder in her chest as she nuzzled closer. Then she grimaced, fidgeted a bit, and pushed away. "I dunno." She murmured, forlorn.

I hummed. "Well, do you want to move after all that, or keep sitting for a while? The guys all left, even Dad's gone now." She gave me a funny look. "I can see through walls, remember?"

She stared for a bit. "How far through the walls?"

I was about to answer when I noticed how amused she felt, despite the tension, anxiety, and her poker face. "Why?" I asked, slowly. She just quirked an eyebrow up, demanding capitulation. I tried to stare her down, but lost the battle of wills and sighed. "A few blocks? It depends on those conditions I mentioned, earlier. Harder through carpet, for instance." Please don't ask for details…

"And you can see everything?" Her lips quirked up in a smirk, despite the negative emotions I could feel welling up. I guess she was as unsettled by the invasion of privacy as I was.

I nodded with a grimace. "I can't really not now, at first it was like reading in a room with a TV on. You can still ignore the sounds if you try. Ever since we got back from Australia, it's been like trying to ignore something you're staring right at."

Her smirk fell. "I was going to make a joke about you not being as vanilla as I thought, if you watched people screwing like a voyeur, but… that actually sounds pretty terrible."

I was about to point out the house a couple blocks to the northeast, which was rented out to college students that never seemed to stop fucking, but that just sounded passive-aggressively whiny after I thought about it. "Can we not talk about random strangers' sex lives?" She just laughed at how shrill my voice had gotten complaining about it, so I dug out my phone. "Ignoring you."

"Hey, what?" She asked, scooting back to peer around my shoulder.

I'd honestly just grabbed my phone to change the subject, but flipping through my contacts reminded me. "I need to text Cassie." Amy groaned and let herself fall backwards. "Hey, none of that." I snapped and swatted her knee. "I need to meet up with her and figure out a plan." I also needed to remember to call Sue sometime, but that could wait for now.

"You're really going to try and recruit her?" She asked neutrally, still feeling conflicted.

"You did know she was Rune, then." I thought out loud, and Amy shrugged, still staring up at my ceiling. "Yeah. I am. She's rough around the edges, but I like her, and every villain we turn hero is a bigger win than any villain we lock up, or any neutral indie we convince to go hero-ing." By then I was done with my text. 'Hey, can we meet up sometime soon? I want to talk shop. Free tomorrow morning, or after school, whenever.' Aaand send.

"I don't like her." Amy said, her tone dead. "But you can't help, but help." She sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped down at her, drawing her eyes from where they'd been blankly staring.

"You can't save everyone." Her eyes and voice were sad, her emotions worried.

I thought about saying something like 'I have to try' or 'what's wrong with helping', but she'd heard both before, I'm sure. I shrugged. "That's what I've got you for." She gave me a confused look, and I smiled. "If I find someone I can't save, you get to come save me. Isn't it great?" I flopped down next to her, and bumped her hip with mine. "My own knight in cotton spandex."

She blushed and harrumphed, rolling away from me to curl up on her side. She was smiling, though. I thought back to her 'cotton spandex'. She hated her robes. They were iconic, but she didn't like the spotlight. I had to wonder...

"Do you even like being Panacea?" She turned back and eyed me over her shoulder. "I know you don't like being Panacea right now, but... if you could change it, even if things were going to get better soon, would you?" I tilted my head down to meet her eyes. "New team, new brand?"

She glanced away, thinking furiously. "I don't know."

"You don't have to, I just wanted to remind you it was an option." She hummed in response, turning back away from me. "I doubt Cassie is going to want to stay Rune, and Vicky's due for not being a 'Girl' anymore. If I had to guess, we'd announce all the new names at once." I relaxed back into looking up at the ceiling and closed my eyes. "Could always just update the costume, or leave things as they are and not rock the boat any. It's up to you." I gave her a minute to ponder her minor identity crisis, before I rolled over and poked her in the side. "We could always get moving to take your mind off things, or go watch a movie, or meditate on it?"

I kept poking her until she swatted at my hand. Then I gave her another few seconds. "I think... I need time to think on it."

I rolled back over and scooted up until I could rest my legs without setting my feet on the floor. Then I gave her the time she needed, while I meditated. Half an hour later, Cassie replied saying that tomorrow morning worked for her, so I confirmed the plans. A couple hours later, Amy's phone rang. Her mother calling to see if she was staying out for dinner. She had no reason not to go home, and could commiserate over her life choices with Vicky whenever she got home. Her words, not mine.

After she left, I called Sue to schedule setting up that bunker. We settled on Tuesday, since Amy would be too busy to hang out, and enough people were free that day to help out. The whole time, I was keeping an 'eye' on Amy's progress home. It felt a little creepy, but I wanted to make sure she was safe. I kept up my vigil after the phone call, switching over to early homework for a while, then texting Dad to see what dinner was going to be for us. He replied that he'd pick something up on the way home, so I went back to homework. Then I checked in with Gram to confirm our plans for tomorrow.

It wasn't much longer before Dad came home, toting a couple bags of Chinese food as a peace offering. "I'm sorry about earlier." He set the bags down on the coffee table, since we were still avoiding the kitchen while things cured. "Kurt meant well, but... maybe I deserved it, even just last year it probably would have been better for people to muscle in on trying to raise my kid." He shook his head, sadly. "It shouldn't have come off at you, though."

I'd come down to help him in, after I noticed his hands were full. This left me trailing into the room after shutting the door, just sitting down as he finished speaking. "Dad, it's..." I groaned. "It's not okay, but it was my fault. I'm the one who forgot my own strength."

He smiled and shook his head again. "I don't blame you, Taylor. I've gotten a few stories about Victoria out of Mark, and... I'm glad we still have a refrigerator."

I snorted. "Okay, that's a story definitely I need to drag out of her sometime. Also, Mark?" I asked with a hint of incredulity.

Dad gave a shy chuckle. "We, ah, already had plans before all this happened. He invited me over to help Neil 'drag him out of his basement more often', his words." He shrugged and headed off to the kitchen for plates and silverware. "I was a little late, but it was a half-decent afternoon, at least."

When he came back, I gave him a wry smirk. "So what, beers with the boys, swapping superpowered kid stories?"

I took my share of utensils, and he sat down. "Well, I did have the one..." He muttered, swiping at his nose.

I scoffed and shook my head. "Dads." I spat playfully. The rest of dinner went fairly well after that, with him asking after Amy and my homework. I told him both were well and done today, but refused to elaborate. Then he asked after plans for tomorrow, and I said I had plans with a friend before the clothing stop with Gram. He said Gerard, and just him, was coming back tomorrow to finish off the woodwork, sanding things down and adding permanent coatings for the patchwork. Apparently his family were carpenters by trade, but the construction crews were full up around the bay.

After dinner, I had a long shower, then double-checked my homework was as done as I'd thought. After that I spent another hour meditating before I turned in early for tomorrow.