Reading Time: 92 Minutes

Title: Dawn
Author: Timothy Wren
Fandom: Parahumans
Genre: Action Adventure, Fusion, Het, Pre-Relationship, Science Fiction
Relationship(s): Pre-relationship Alec | Regent/Taylor Hebert | Skitter
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Hate Speech. Discussion- Canon Child Abuse and Rape, Hate speech is for Nazis Naziing (minor)
Author Note: The discussion of canon child abuse and rape is non-graphic and refers to Heartbreaker/Nikos Vasil and Alec’s canon backstory.
Beta: Undiene
Alpha: Polyanna94
Word Count: 51,548
Summary: Roughly a year before anyone can get shoved into a locker, Taylor Hebert manifests a different power that changes her circumstances dramatically. Being a hero on her own is hard, but her power means she’s never alone– and making an unexpected friend in Alec, a strange boy who ran away from home, changes things for the brighter.
Artist: Librarycat9

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Chapter 9

The contact they were set to meet wasn’t there when they arrived at the park. Panacea and Glory Girl were there. When they saw the two approaching, Amy punched off a text and pocketed her phone.

A moment later, Alec cursed.

“Fuck! He wasn’t here a second ago.”

Taylor jerked around, words on her lips.

From around the tree, a figure walked out. He was clearly a cape, if an extremely lazy one. A riot of vivid red hair, ruby instead of ginger, reached his cheek bones, which were nominally hidden only by a black domino—the same cheap kind Taylor had bought once she realized they were sold prominently in box stores.

“Guilty.” He said boredly. “Ready?”

Without waiting for an answer, the world went black.

“Thank you, Strider.” A man was saying. “Your normal fee, the short-notice addendum, and the same for the return trip.”

“Were we just kidnapped?” Alec demanded, straightening.

“Ha.” The cape—Strider—snorted. Then vanished again.

“Wow, I think I hate that guy.” Alec mused. “Novel.”

They were in the lobby of a business of some sort—ultra-modern, sleek black and white furniture, like out of a magazine.

“Welcome to Panacea Law.” The man said, fair-skinned with black hair greying at the middle. “I’m Keanu Atkinson, medical law. My colleague is Sheryll Calahan, parahuman employment law.”

He gestured to a woman of Latinx decent, in a prim pantsuit.

“Isis, yes?” She reached forward and shook Taylor’s hand professionally. “If what Panacea has told us is true, we’d be happy to represent you.”

“Let’s talk about what that would entail.” Mr. Atkinson said, leading them into a conference room richly adorned with chairs and snacks.

Alec made a bee-line over to the food. Well, that’s him won over.

“Firstly, I understand you’re part of a team?”

They took down all the details—how long she’d been operating as a parahuman, what she could do, etc.

“Panacea contracts her time out to the PRT and the federal government one day a week for eight hours, with mandatory breaks, and meals and travel accommodated for. She volunteers no more than eight hours a week at local hospitals for no cost. She is on-call for certain retainer for local parahuman emergencies in the east-northeast region from three to five PM on weekdays.” They explained the broad strokes. “Any emergency healing outside of this window is received on a case-by-case basis with substantial compensation, some of which is allocated to Glory Girl or teleporters like Strider for transportation.”

“Is Strider on retainer for the firm? I can’t imagine how expensive his services would be.” Taylor asked.

“He’s paid for his time and no, he’s not on permanent retainer per se. However, Strider does allow us absolute priority for his services, on the agreement that he’s paid half his standard rate for regular transportation and extra for any short notice trips like today. In exchange, he has blanket access to Panacea for any healing—within reason.”

“He doesn’t say ‘no’ to me because I don’t say no to him,” Amy Lavere summed up. “We still pay each other half our discounted rates but the access is the real prize—I get a teleporter who will take me anywhere, and he can bring himself or his loved ones to me in an emergency and I’ll heal them no questions asked.”

Alec whistled.

“Sweet deal.”

“Quite.” Atkinsons said. “We could arrange similar for you, Isis, using Panacea’s schedule as a template. If any part becomes intolerable for you, you’re under no obligation to keep to an agreement. In fact, we advise any contract with the PRT or otherwise to be for no more than a month on a trial basis.”

“Panacea has a clause in her contracts that she can leave them at any time with no penalties or repercussions. If she decides not to heal for the PRT for those designated eight hours, the only consequence is that she isn’t paid for her time that day.” Calahan explains. “Usually no one would agree to such a disproportionate agreement, except her position in this world is—was—unique.”

“Frankly they’ll take what they get and be grateful,” Vicky said, chin on her fist and both elbows on the glass conference room table.

“Exactly.” Atkinsons nodded. “Isis, you were fortunate to leave the testing hospital when you did, and likewise you are going to reap the benefit of Panacea’s experience, and our experience with the laws surrounding parahuman healing.”

“We need to complete the testing, though, right? I don’t want to put the cart before the horses.” Taylor said. “Just because I know how my power is meant to work, doesn’t mean we can go without testing it.”

“We’ve arranged for volunteers in a secure location.” Calahan explained smoothly. “This facility is state of the art and the patients are all sourced from actual members of the PRT, department of defense, and the federal government.”

“No friends or family members today—the patients themselves are under strict nondisclosure agreements as part of their various employment contracts.” Atkinsons picked up, leading them through the hallway. “All have current security clearances maintained with constant investigation into any unusual activity—standard for such occupations and useful to our purposes.”

That was a relief—that no leaks were likely.

“They were eager to be volunteers for unknown parahuman healing?” Alec asked skeptically.

Victoria snorted. Even Amy and the lawyers looked amused.

“Panacea’s weekly appointment with the PRT—and through them other governmental departments—handles perhaps a hundred patients a day. There’s a strict triage system to get her to the most grievously injured persons or those who cannot be healed by modern medicine.” Calahan explained. “The ability to ‘jump the queue’ is not something taken lightly. Everyone here today is someone who applied to be seen by her and selected ‘willing to travel’ and ‘under whatever circumstances.’ Even those serious cases who were on the list to be seen this weekend were happy to get seen a day early and, with their afflictions cured, someone else will be ‘bumped up’ to take their place.”

“I’m not sure I want to sign up for that level of pressure.” Tayor said, cautiously. “No offense—it just sounds exhausting.”

“It is.” Amy said. “But—and this is crucial—it’s so much better than it was last year.”

She shuddered.

“I also have a standing request for cases I’ve never seen before. My power likes seeing ‘new’ things so medical mysteries and maladies are often sent my way.” She said thoughtfully. “If your power has any preferences like that, let us know.”

“I’ll ask but I’m pretty sure we don’t.”

Taylor kept walking only to find she was the only one besides Alec.

“Your power talks to you?” Vicky demanded, suddenly in her space. The lawyers looked intrigued.

“Um—yes? Back up, please. My power manifests itself as little fairies only visible to me. They can speak. That’s why I say their names before using the power—invoking them, I guess.”

“Fascinating.” Mrs. Calahan said. “Also, confidential. Nobody needs to know the intimates of how your power works, including the PRT. If they press, you’re to remain silent and ask for legal representation—even if it’s a ‘friendly meeting.”

“Especially if it’s ‘just a friendly meeting’.” Mr. Atkinsons said darkly. “For that matter, Miss Lavere always has legal representation with her for planned healing sessions with any government agency, to include the PRT.”

“My—parents—would approve.” Taylor said. “Never talk freely to anyone who has the power to arrest you. And in this case, who would benefit from pressganging me into their service?”

“Very good, there.” Atkinson praised. “Keep that in mind. ‘I’m remaining silent until my legal representation arrives.’ Is a complete sentence. Even if they just want to know one or two things. You’re not an expert in the law, so you could inadvertently admit to a crime very easily—especially as an independent parahuman.”

The first patient of the day was a young man.

“Antonio Rodriguez of the U.S. Marine Corps, ma’am.” He introduced himself, without standing up—on account of the broken leg. It was splinted but not in a cast.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Isis, an independent parahuman healer. Thank you for agreeing to help me with testing my powers in an official capacity.” Taylor said, having rehearsed this privately. “Please don’t worry, as Panacea is here to supervise and ensure that nothing is missed.”

“I’m grateful for the opportunity.” The marine said easily. “There’s a dozen other healers who aren’t Panacea and helping more get out there officially is worth being a Guinea pig. Plus, even if you’re only partially able to fix it, that’s another few weeks shaved off my medical leave.”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant.” Panacea said wryly. “We’re not going in blind. Your leg will be fully healed in a moment.”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to try a diagnosis?” Taylor asked, as confidently as she could. “Also—just the leg, or…?”

“Let’s test out your ability to sense injury or illness.” Calahan said. “It determines some of the legal matters.”

“Alright. Ayame, Shun’ō. Let’s hold off on healing him right away until I get a good idea of what’s wrong. Sōten Kisshun!”

The shield formed. With concentration, Taylor felt out the ‘edges’ of her ability, the feedback she was receiving from her power.

“The leg is broken. The bone and some of the tissue around the bone. He’s also got halfway healed scrapes around area.”

“From the initial injury.” Calahan nodded. “Panacea, can you scan him before any healing is accomplished?”

“Of course.” She stepped forward, waited, and then stared when Taylor didn’t move. At the other girl’s nod, Amy reached through the shield.

“Alright, I’ve got his baseline.”

“Right.” Taylor said. “My power seems focused on the immediate injury. I’m getting feedback from mostly just that. If I let my attention wander through the rest of his body, I can kind of get a sense that nothing’s really ‘wrong’ or—or out of alignment. My sensing ability is vastly underdeveloped compared to the conceptual ability to base things on Panacea’s perceptions.”

“That’s expected.” Panacea said, before frowning. “Lt. Rodriguez, can I manipulate your respiratory system briefly? I will put it back better than I found it.”

“If it were anyone else I’d be mighty alarmed, ma’am, but your reputation proceeds you. You can do whatever you like as long as I’m fit for active duty afterwards.”

“This may be slightly uncomfortable then. Isis?” As the marine gasped, Taylor focused on her power.

“It really does not like that you just did that.” She announced. “I can see what you did—recent changes are very easy for my power to spot. Even if I don’t register something as ‘wrong’, the body kind of knows how it was five minutes ago.”

“Interesting.” Panacea said. “I’m going to try one more thing. This doesn’t leave the room.”

She didn’t reverse the lung damage before changing something else. It felt like a wrongness in his chest.

“Did you make him sick?” Taylor asked, which would be concerning in literally any other scenario. The implications were staggering.

“He already had a very few samples of flu virus in his system, which hadn’t quite multiplied into anything symptomatic. I encouraged them to multiply a little faster. Think you can do anything about it?”

“It feels foreign to his body so, yes. I can also fix the lung–damage.”

“Go for it.” Panacea said, leaving her hand on the patient this time to witness the power in real time.

“I reject.” Taylor said, having held the spell half-completed all this time. She felt she could have chanted the entire thing and just held the healing portion as slow as she needed, but stopping the spell short of rejecting something allowed for two separate halves of diagnosis and treatment.

Maybe it was just a mental thing. Most of her power was.

It took a few minutes for the glow to finish its work.

“That is so fucking weird.” Amy said wonderingly. “It’s definitely not anything medical that you’re doing. The biology is not being directly manipulated. All the virus-compromised cells have been rendered virus free. Even I just kill the virus when I do this. I tracked individual cells as your power acted on them—they didn’t vanish.”

“The lung damage shows complete reversal. Additionally, the leg and all its tissue are healed. It should be exactly as you remember it being prior to the injury. Worth noting is that while I need biomass to transfer energy and mass from, Isis does not. His fat stores are completely untouched.”

She paused thoughtfully.

“This time, no changes have been made to anything unexpected—don’t worry, lieutenant, I just meant that the last person got more healed than planned, nothing alarming.”

“I focused on the injuries and illnesses I could sense, yes.” Taylor said.

“Excellent.” Calahan said. “Lieutenant, thank you for your service.”

“Thank you.” He said, standing with nary a limp and looking quite surprised as he took the splint off. “Even the bruises from the crash are gone.”

“Isis, right? On behalf of the U.S. Marines—which is not something many of us say, on account of legal issues for trying to ‘represent the opinion of the corps’—welcome to the fight.”

“Thanks.” Taylor said, spine straight. “I appreciate your time today.”

“Absolutely no problem.”

“Fascinating.” Alec said dryly once they were out in the hall. “I know I’m here for moral support and all, but is every one going to be that boring?”

“Got any pressing legal concerns?” Atkinsons asked, genuinely. “Most parahumans could use an overview of the laws their power may or may not break, and what they can legally do with it.”

Alec froze.

Taylor remembered at once that he was so scared of even admitting what his real power was that she hadn’t been told. She’d started to suspect it was either a Master/Stranger power or a Shaker power so horrific he didn’t want to use it.

“How…” He coughed to clear his cracked voice. “How confidential is this? I’m talking witness protection level shit.”

With alarm, Atkinsons turned to him.

“Do you have reason to believe a powerful villain will stop at nothing to do you harm?” He asked, sharply and with the intonation of someone directly quoting something. “Do you have reason to believe that going to the PRT about this person will reveal your location to him and put your life and those around you in danger?”

Mutely, Alec nodded.

“Would the villain recognize you in your civilian guise?”

Again, a nod.

“Is this villain regarded as a class-S or A threat by the PRT, or, if they are unknown to the PRT, do you have reason to believe he or she would earn that classification immediately upon discovery?”

Eyes extremely wide, Alec nodded.

“Panacea, if you would?” Atkinson said tightly.

Instead of moving to the next patient, the group of them walked into a private room.

“You don’t have to take off your mask for this.” Panacea said sharply. “If you have any objections, I can fix them later.”

“What?” Alec said, uncomprehending, but she’d already parked him in front of a large mirror and laid a hand on him.

His features rippled.

All at once, the Alec she knew was gone. His hair was darker, now closer to black than light brown, and the curls were longer—more curly than his previous slight wave. His eyes were a different shape, though still blue. The shade was different; previously a dark sapphire, they were now light like ice in the sun, pale.

The genetic shape of his face had changed, cheekbones angular in a different way, something soft to his jaw where before it’d been pointier. His eyebrows were different.

It was like a fan artist’s rendition of a character—the same features, drawn in a different style. Even his skin tone shifted minutely.

“Taller or shorter?” Panacea said idly and Alec said “Shorter,” without blinking.

Previously Taylor’s size, he shrank a little. Parts of his frame widened or shrank as she adjusted him.

“You’re wearing—what you’re wearing. Do you want a complete flip along that axis?”

“No thank you but please keep the offer open for recreational reasons in the future.” Alec croaked.

Amy snorted, her exposure to his humor unexpected.

“I do not usually ask this—feel the tingle? Do not acknowledge the tingle. Like it is or…?”

“Like it is is fine.” Alec snapped. “I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“And now the whole room knows what we were talking about, congratulations, Captain Subtlety.”

Alec bared his teeth—which were now pristine and straight. They hadn’t been especially crooked before. His canines were slightly more pointed.

His nose was wider around the bridge. The shape of his mouth more pouty, lips a very slightly different shade of red.

“This is one of the few situations where I do plastic surgery so please speak up if you have something about yourself you hate.”

“Trauma or exposure to a master power has made me emotionally numb.” Alec finally said. “It’s probably a brain thing, though.”

“Can’t do brains.” Amy said, out of habit. Then her hand twitched.

“Amy?” Victoria asked in immediate alarm.

“I can see the damage. I am not going to fix the damage. Fucking with the brain at my level of complete control is a very bad idea, do you understand?”

“Yes.” Alec gasped.

“But Isis can reject the damage. And only the damage. No side effects.”

“Taylor?” Alec said, instantly outing her to a room full of people. Victoria sucked in her breath sharply.

Taylor honestly didn’t even mind, stepping forward and taking his hand without hesitation.

“I can’t help but think… suddenly making you able to feel the full extent of everything after however long of ‘numbness’ is… not the best idea.” Taylor said. “Amy, what do you think of rejecting his inability to heal it on his own, over time?”

“Tricky.” Amy said at once. “It might fuck him up if he’s re-exposed to the stimuli.”

“He?” Vicky said in the background. Amy elbowed her.

“I can reject my own changes, I’m pretty sure. Shun’ō?”

“It makes sense to me!”

“Did you just ask your power?” Amy asked. “Ugh. Ridiculous. I can’t with you.”

“You should try it sometime.” Taylor said. “Alright. Alec?”

“Yeah. If it happens slow enough, I might even be able to cope.”

“I’m one hundred percent confident I can at the very least put you back to how you were before we came into this room, damage and all.” Taylor said, squeezing his hand. He squeezed back hard, still on the verge of a panic attack.

“Do it.” He said through gritted teeth. “And don’t let Panacea give me tits, please.”

“Deal.” Taylor laughed.

She cast the spell, golden light spilling out. Panacea kept a hand on him.

“It’s slowly repairing itself. Microscopically slowly. His entire adrenaline system is fucked—emotion goo in the brain isn’t produced at a good level and the pathways are—I’ll spare you the technicality. It seems glacially slow.”

“Good.” Taylor said. “I wanted it to heal on its own.”

“That has certain implications, you realize.” Panacea sighed. “Alright, you didn’t undo any of my changes, so that’s good. You might as well do the entire glow of fixing any minor damage while we’re here.”

“Eos, wanna age like a billionaire?” Taylor asked. “I fixed every genetic defect on a random Brocktonite yesterday.”

“My genetics are the defect.” Alec said bitterly, but allowed it. Then he stared at his own reflection in the mirror.

“This is some uncanny valley shit.” He finally decided. “I almost can’t tell the difference—which is weird, since I definitely don’t look the same.”

“I’m very good at what I do.” Panacea said dryly. “Okay, now, go talk to the nice lawyers about whatever you’re running from.”

He looked up at said lawyers, who were completely stone faced with professionalism.

“How confidential will this be? I mean it. You tell no one.”

“We represent Panacea.” Calahan said slowly. “It gives us a certain pull in the legal system. We also, as you just saw, work closely with the US Marshalls for witness protection. Even before Panacea’s involvement we have a one hundred percent success rate.”

“T—Isis?” Alec asked, voice still wrecked. He squeezed her hand and suddenly Taylor was ready to go to war over this.

“If anyone so much as writes it down, I’ll never heal anyone who isn’t bleeding out in front of me. No volunteer hours, no PRT, nothing.”

Alec choked.

“Holy shit, girl, that’s not what I meant.”

“Agreed.” Atkinson said. “We won’t even record it in our internal systems. We won’t speak of it outside of this room, not even when we’re completely certain we’re alone.”

“At this point I’m afraid it’s either going to be something no where near this dramatic or, worse—that all the drama is underselling it.” Vicky muttered.

“Hang on.” Taylor said. “I can—Baigon, Lily, Hinagiku. Santen Kesshun. I reject.”

A barrier snapped out, covering them all.

“Taylor.” Alec said, using her first name again—he was really awful at that. “Your eyes are glowing. What are you rejecting?”

“Everything.”

“Um!” Vicky said loudly. “Okay, what? Tell me she didn’t just destroy the universe outside of this bubble.”

“This shield doesn’t change anything.” Taylor said, feeling a bit of strain. “It stops anything outside the shield from getting in—I use it to deflect attacks. It will not be broken. Currently I’m considering anything outside the shield to be the ‘attack’—nothing can get in. Not light, not air, not radio waves or sound. A camera outside the bubble can’t see us.” She paused. “Not powers, either, so if anyone is listening in or spying with—thinker powers or whatever–”

“Delightful. Also, terrifying.” Amy sighed. “We probably only have about an hour’s worth of air.”

“It’s a secret but not a long story.” Alec said, looking around the gold bubble—outside of which was the void, as light couldn’t get in—with wide, shocked eyes.

“Well now I’ve got to know if it’s really all that.” Vicky said with nervous laughter. “Um, should me and Amy be outside the bubble? Keep it confidential with your lawyers?”

“Oh. You don’t have to tell me, either.” Taylor said, belatedly. “I can recast the bubble with some noise cancelling headphones.”

“It’s… fine.” Alec said, struggling with it. “Fuck it. Fine. Fuck it.”

He took a deep breath.

“My dad’s Heartbreaker.”

–

Chapter 10

Dead silence in the bubble cut off from the world.

“He—when I—I triggered when I was around ten.” Alec’s hands were shaking, even the one in Taylor’s. She squeezed gently. “Don’t know my birthday, exactly. Anyway. I. He had me… I went by ‘Hijack’. Master 8 according to the PRT.” The last sentence was bitter.

Silence in the impossible bubble.

“Well, fuck.” Vicky of all people said.

Alec was barely breathing.

“So your power… I see why you’d worry about getting classified as a villain.” Taylor exhaled slowly. “I don’t think you should be held accountable for crimes you committed as a minor with a Master 10 supervillain parent. You got out as soon as you could?”

A pause.

“As soon as you could without anything worse happening?” Amy said, unusually serious. “It doesn’t matter if you physically could leave—as soon as you had a reasonable chance, you left and didn’t look back.”

Tightly, Alec jerked a nod.

“I’m not a lawyer but that sounds pretty reasonable.” Vicky exhaled slowly. “Plus, you’re not going to be—Hijack anymore, or whatever the civilian name was. So, that person can’t be tried for those crimes. Yes?”

“Jean-Paul Vasil.” Alec whispered, visibly forcing himself to get it all out while the bubble was up. “Alec, now.”

“Alec Hebert, if he wants.” Taylor said firmly, making the boy shoot up his head in surprise.

“Huh. I was thinking Merceau.”

“Probably best to avoid anything in French, if that’s your native language.” Atkinson said, sounding calm. “Avoid any hint of your old life. We can discuss the exact details at a future date.”

“Fuck, okay, I’m ready to get out of here. My power. I—take control of someone’s nervous system through proximity.” Alec rushed. “With limited exposure, I can grab hold and make it do small things. Like a hammer to the nerves—make your leg jerk, arm spasm, that kind of thing. Make you throw up. Shit yourself. I don’t know.”

He leaned forward and dropped his head on Taylor’s shoulder, looking absolutely drained.

In a dead voice he said, “With continuous exposure I get a better ‘nerve-sense’. Recognize the system. I can hijack them completely. Even without jumping in, they light up like a spotlight to me. Always available for the taking. I can control every aspect—breathing, speaking, fighting, parahuman powers. Total control. Total slavery.”

Fuck it. Taylor wrapped an arm around him, glaring at the others.

Vicky was struggling to get her horror under control. The lawyers were unperturbed. Amy had the stone cold poker face of someone who had run the medical tent at Endbringer battles.

A laugh hacked out of him, sounding exhausted and halfway hysterical.

“Once my power knows somebody, I can take them over as soon as they enter my range again. Instantaneously. No sign whatsoever. Full control again. Nothing they can do to resist.”

Taylor slowly let her power shatter, three fairies returning to their stand-by form. Light rushed back into the world, the air no longer stagnant. The sound of electronics faintly humming.

Alec sucked in air like he was dying.

“Are you sure it’s gradual? It doesn’t feel gradual.” He managed. “Feels… fucking too much. Too much feeling. Hate this.”

“You’re having a panic attack.” Amy said clinically. “Do I have your permission to heal you?”

“How?” A gasp, into Taylor’s shoulder.

“Put you to sleep, mostly.” Amy said. Alec was already shaking his head—as was Taylor.

“I have to finish my tests and I’m not leaving you.” She said.

“I got it.” Vicky was white as a sheet but recovering. “Amy—you have your panic button? I’ll stay with you.” She said to Alec directly. “Nobody’s getting through me.”

“Barely fuckin’ know you.” Alec said with utter exhaustion.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” Amy said, in what was probably meant to be a soothing voice. Alec appreciated the briskness.

“Fuck. Fine. If I wake up in a cell somewhere, I’ll mcfuckin lose it.”

“Hey.” Taylor said, waiting until she had his attention. “No cell is strong enough to keep me out. It’d be a waiting game.”

“Hey fun question does your power work on inanimate objects? Because it sounds like your power works on inanimate objects.” Vicky laughed, a touch hysterical herself. “I just bet you can reject inanimate things from existing. Can you do that with people?”

The entire room turned to look at her.

“… I wouldn’t try.” Taylor said, mind blank with horror.

“See?” Amy said. “Taylor here is scarier than both of us, and I’m fully biokinetic. I can do brains if I lost all my morals—could make everyone I touch love me. I could also make them soup. Or make Bonesaw look like a fucking amateur. So.”

“Amy I’ve already put down the bubble.” Taylor hissed.

“Vicky already knows. The lawyers—a few of them—already know. If we’re judging powers by villainous potential, Biokinetic 12 and Miss Whatever The Fuck Taylor Is have you beat. Master 8. Pah. Chump change.”

“Alright, fine. Knock me out. I can’t with you.” Alec sagged even before she touched him. Taylor let him lean over onto the bed.

Looked at Victoria.

“I have one friend.” She said, eyes locked. “One.”

A direct point at Alec.

“If anyone tries something, we might see what happens when you reject the existence of a person.”

“And suddenly my cousin isn’t the most terrifying person in the room. I don’t like that one bit.” Vicky said. She girded her loins. “Sheesh, Taylor, I do this for a living. Alexandria package, bodyguard of champions, protector of little cousins everywhere.”

“The name thing.” Taylor said, turning to the lawyers. “Is that gonna be a problem?”

“What name thing?” Calahan said in the blandest voice possible. “Glory Girl, are you capable of respecting a cape’s secret identity?”

“Isis. Right. Isis only. I won’t fuck up.” She laughed nervously.

“That’s also something we won’t be writing down.” Atkinsons said, straightening up with a sharp clap. “Even with her identity public, all of Miss Lavere’s contracts, banking agreements and correspondence are done under the official aegis of Panacea.”

“We’ll work with our contacts in witness protection and get a new identity created for your friend.” Calahan said firmly. “They don’t need to know the details of where he’s coming from or why, so long as the new identity doesn’t cause any legal issues. If Alec Hebert robs a bank, he won’t be connected to—his past name—but he will be persecuted as if Alec Hebert is a real person. Understand?”

“And does Alec Hebert have as much legal right to have a secret identity?” Taylor demanded. “Will you be telling the government that he’s also Eos?”

“No.” Atkinson said smoothly. “And since Panacea’s involvement has changed his features, he’s safer than most in the program. The law is clear about revealing a parahuman’s identity.”

“Good.” Taylor was abruptly tired. “The rest of the patients?”

“Right this way.”

Taylor healed nerve damage, a fever, a case of HIV—and a case of advanced metastatic breast cancer. Like Amy, she was now the miracle cure for the uncurable.

Mostly she felt tired.

“How many do we have left?” She asked curiously.

“A few, why? Tired? If you have an upper limit on healing energy, it’s important to note.”

“Emotionally tied from earlier.” Taylor waved a hand. “No, I’m asking because I want to try something.”

She paused at their expectant looks.

Amy in particular looked a touch wary.

“So, I’m not a Striker. Why am I healing people one by one?”

Slowly, loudly, Amy’s palm came to hit her forehead.

“Oh, my. You’re a Shaker. Area of effect.” Despite himself, Atkinson let out a little giggle. “Oh my.”

“It would require agreement on the patients’ part to be treated together. I don’t anticipate an issue. Excuse me.” Calahan left them, presumably to gather the patients.

Of the five remaining, all five agreed. They stood in front of the group of two healers, two lawyers, or in one case reclined in a hospital bed. One was in a wheelchair.

“So, I don’t think I can do this and diagnose with any real speed.” Taylor said thoughtfully. “I’m sure I can do more than one person at once, though. With injuries it would be absurdly easy—rejecting it as if it never happened.”

“Go with ‘Panacea, medically significant, ethically able to heal without asking.’” The other girl said thoughtfully, hands twitching. “Do you mind if I–?”

She gestured at the patients, brown curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Your power really likes watching mine work.” Taylor realized. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Amy stationed herself in the middle of two patients, taking the hand of both.

“Let’s see if it’s any slower or less complete this way.” She nodded to Taylor.

“Healer.” Taylor murmured to herself, feeling the edges of her resolve. “Heal the wounded.”

Intent based.

Taylor intended to heal everyone here, to reject what made them unwell, and get back to Alec.

“Ayame! Shun’ō! Sōten Kisshun! I reject!”

The shield sprung up over all of them, Amy included.

Nobody had anything catastrophically wrong with them, as far as Taylor’s power was concerned. In mere minutes they were all healed, perhaps five minutes elapsing.

“Definitely takes longer than me.” Amy said thoughtfully. “I can only really concentrate on one patient at a time, however. We need to find out the upper limit of this.”

“Another time. And we certainly will, with Isis’s agreement.” Calahan said faintly.

Belatedly, Taylor realized something. She waited to bring it up until they were in private, the lawyers playing with their paperwork and Amy looking thoughtful.

“Um. So. You know you were in there too, right?”

They all stared. Amy looked at her hands.

“I can’t check my own biology.” Amy hissed, irritated. “Why can’t I check my own biology, ugh, this is the worst. I want to know so bad.”

“I could… reject your inability to see your own biology?”

Atkinson dropped his cup of water, the glass shattering. At Taylor’s quiet urging, Ayame and Shun’ō fixed it quickly, saving anyone the irritation and pain of a tiny glass splinter imbedding it into their foot.

“Please don’t imply you’re a powerful trump before I’ve had time to figure out your current ratings.” The man finally said, faintly yet professional.

Taylor tilted her head and Amy sighed.

“Trumps affect powers. Eidolon is the trump. Glastag Uaine is a trump. Hatchet-face of the Slaughterhouse 9 is a power-nullifying trump.” She put her face in her hands. “If you can edit powers, you’re up there. In full disclosure, since today is ‘reveal horrifying secrets to strangers’ day, if I lost all my rules about playing with brains, I could manipulate the corona polenta and gemma—the organs responsible for parahuman powers—and change powers, too.”

“We don’t write that part down.” Calahan said blandly. “Don’t worry.”

“For now,” Atkinson cleared his throat. “Ahem. For now, Isis, heres’ your panic button. It does not call Glory Girl, New Wave, or any of the Triumvirate. It currently calls Strider. I won’t tell you what it costs to summon him in this way, since you might balk at the price point. Suffice to say, do not hesitate. You are tied for strongest healer in the world, as far as I’m concerned. The billions of dollars you could generate, to say nothing of saving the entire world through your contributions to cape recovery and survival at Endbringer battles, is worth summoning him a thousand times. Call him for a hundred false alarms before you even consider failing to summon him when it matters. He will get you—and whoever is with you, so don’t concern yourself—to a safe room.”

“I’m thinking…” Taylor started. “If it comes to that, I should put myself– and anybody else in danger, if that’s the case—in my most powerful shield bubble. Block out everything except whatever Strider’s power is. Then he can teleport directly into the shield.”

“Beautiful.” Atkinson said, sounding pleased. “A huge downside of his capability as a rescue hero is that he’s teleporting directly into danger. If you can make it a written agreement to only summon him inside a shield if at all possible—maybe two presses for a shielded summons, one press for if you’re too injured or unable to make a shield, for instance—then he might be willing to significantly reduce the cost of his services where you’re concerned.”

“Please let him know I’m amenable to the same type of agreement he has with Panacea.” Taylor said. “Additionally, I think the shield argument is valid. You can put it in the written agreement.”

“Wonderful.” The lawyer said. “We’ll get started on the paperwork. The same deal with the government agencies that Panacea has, eight hours a week, no penalty for reneging, for one month to start with?”

“Yes, that’s fine. I’ll need to review it before signing, of course.”

“Of course.” The lawyer actually smiled. “Now, one more thing.”

He sat down and looked at Taylor directly.

“What do you need?” Atkinson asked.

“What?” Taylor started.

“You’re a newly triggered parahuman. I don’t know your family situation. You have, by your own admission, one friend to rely on. You are going to single-handedly at least double the revenue and profit of this firm. You are the second coming of Panacea. What would make your life easier? Money is barely an object.”

“I haven’t even gotten paid yet, though?”

“Isis. If I may be blunt? We would not even count this towards your pay. I’m authorized to give you anything short of a luxury home—and even that could be negotiated. If it’s less than five hundred thousand dollars, I can write you a cheque for it.”

Taylor stared at him.

“We do not expect this to be paid back in any way, and I can give you that in writing. This is an investment. To begin with, I’d like you to think about custom armor for yourself and your teammate, Eos. We need you alive to continue your career.”

“That would be… good. Eos was looking at a member of the Guild.”

“Rhizome does New Wave’s suits.” Panacea volunteered, looking unsurprised at the outright bribery. “Before I triggered, we used someone local, but now—with all this—we could afford the best.”

“I don’t consider this part of the offer.” Atkinson said bluntly. “Panacea has a costume and defense budget. Think of something you want or need.”

“We’re camped out in a gas station.” Taylor blurted. “An abandoned one. Al—Eos doesn’t have a bed there. If we could buy it outright, that’d be great. We don’t need the gas pumps. Maybe a security system.”

“We’ll find the owner and make the purchase.” Atkinson said, whipping out a notebook “Address?”

Taylor hesitantly rattled it off.

“We’re currently on a prepaid burner phone with about ten minutes left of… minutes.”

“Unacceptable. You need to be able to reach us at all times—including Eos, if you’re incapacitated or separated. This will also be a business expense.”

“Okay… food, then? We have a bit of cash, but not much. Aside from a costume, that’s what our money would go to.”

“We’re going to rush through creation of your team bank account, with two checking accounts. As with Panacea, as you’re a minor, most of your profits will go into a trust available when you’re eighteen. That will be in a high-yield savings account. The two checking accounts will be for yourself and Eos. We can create more if you have membership go up.”

“Membership?”

“Of your team. Cards for you and Eos will be delivered. Try not to lose them. In the meantime, here is a card tied into a temporary expense account. Use it for whatever you like. The account has fifteen thousand dollars in it. Please call if your immediate needs exceed that amount—it’s likely we’d prefer to make big purchases from another source and leave this one for incidentals—food and clothes. Do you have a driver’s license?”

Taylor took the thick, heavy card numbly. She shook her head.

“So no need to purchase a vehicle just yet.”

She turned to look at Panacea.

Amy shrugged at her.

“I told you. NAPEA-5 was overhauled for me specifically. You would not believe the amount of money Brockton Bay makes from medical tourism. One weekend a month, I go to a random city around the country and heal the terminally ill, the uncurable, the people modern medicine can’t help.”

“For a very steep fee, she also heals the ultra wealthy. The elite. Panacea never charges her patients directly when she volunteers her healing. She charges the government a very reasonable rate to go where they like and choose her cases for eight hours a week, but not the patients. No one gets prioritized over another in her volunteer time.”

“Fuck billionaires though.” Amy said casually. “I charge a million to go to them. Strider charges, too. If it’s outside of my normal hours, double that. For ‘emergencies’, ten million.”

Taylor choked.

“Ten million dollars.” She repeated. “How—how many billionaires are there that can request that?”

“In 2008 there were over a thousand billionaires in the world.” Atkinson said blandly. “Very lucrative clientele. Less so are the slightly less absurdly rich—she operates on a sliding scale relative to net worth.”

“In fairness, I also donate a lot of it to charity.” Amy said. “It’s like the taxes they should be paying, to begin with. I have a Walmart charity fund that I feed into every time one of the Waltons calls me—about a hundred of their employees get a sizable donation for every call.”

“As you can see.” Atkinson said. “We are very much not worried about the financial aspect of things at this level. As one of our two clients, our priority is your comfort, happiness and continued success as a healer.”

“I see.” Taylor said. “Eos is going to faint.”

“Eos already fainted.” Amy retorted. “I barely got to touch them earlier.”

Today was a rough day for him. Taylor asked the shiny new lawyers if they could have a 72-inch plasma screen TV and game system delivered to the gas station covertly.

Turns out Strider wasn’t reverse Manton limited, which explained why their clothes didn’t fall off during transport. He also planned to drop Taylor and Alec off separately from Amy and Vicky—and didn’t have to return to the park.

Strider seemed to take great joy in depositing Alec onto his sleeping bag before vanishing without so much as a ‘by your leave.’

–

“Taylor? I had the strangest dream.” Alec groggily came to. “Why am I still in this wig?”

“Look.”

In the dark, a square of light opened up. Taylor pointed the remote at the TV.

The Xbox logo swam into view.

Alec stared.

“Oh. I see I’m still asleep.” He eased back down, resting his arms on bent knees pulled up to his chin.

“Nah. It was real. They gave me so much money. Let’s go shopping tomorrow and let you buy all the clothes you want.”

She didn’t even register him standing up before being bowled over in a hug.

A loud, smacking kiss to the temple.

“Worth the trauma dumping!” He shouted, grabbing a controller. “Best team ever, oh my fucking god.”

–

Chapter 11

The gas station was a great lair. Taylor didn’t regret setting it up. She had plans to add security measures to it, get it turned into a proper base of operations.

There was also no way to get furniture into it easily. Well, there was the garage door that could raise up, but at the moment that would bring more attention than ideal; it was still “abandoned” and they didn’t quite own it yet.

Taylor had never really paid attention to the other buildings around it, simply noting it as in one of the more industrial areas of town—industrial, but run down, most of the businesses closed down and boarded up, as the gas station was.

They had always entered the gas station through an alley. The other building that made up the alley was an apartment building, four stories tall. Squat, kind of ugly.

The back door that they’d never seen used, marked ‘fire’ and ‘emergency’ was hidden in the shadow of the dumpster.

They got an apartment there for a reasonable price, considering the lackluster area of town. It was furnished.

It had a bedroom for Alec to sleep in—just the one, which was fine, as Taylor didn’t really plan to stay over. It also had a couch.

And a television, if smaller than the one in the lair.

“This is surprisingly tolerable.” Alec said, looking around without much expression. “Funny how a ‘sleeping bag’ situation lowers your standards.”

“It didn’t lower your clothing standards.” Taylor said, opening and closing cabinets in the kitchen.

“I have sensitive skin.” Alec said blandly. “Also, I hate washing clothes. Fuck paying for the laundromat. If I drop all my clothes in a basket will you zap it with your powers?”

“Sure.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to cook all your meals for you, too?”

“Would you?” Alec dangled over the arm of the couch, longer hair hanging down with gravity. He gave her a hopeful look from upside down. “Ah, nevermind, you’re too amused to not be joking. How cruel, chére.”

“It could have been a genuine offer.” Taylor grinned. “Do you even know how to cook?”

“Nope.” Alec said, popping the end of the word. “See, you’re laughing at me. Laughing.”

“I’m literally not laughing.” She kept her face even with an effort of will.

“Nah, I can feel your emotions.” He sighed, righting himself on the couch. “Laughing.”

A dramatic finger pointed at her.

Taylor let a giggle slip free.

Alec sighed again.

“You could hire a private chef. It’s actually not that expensive—like a thousand dollars a month.”

“Really?” Taylor said. Then: “I can’t believe that’s ‘affordable’ for us, now.”

Alec shrugged.

“Maybe more, for groceries or whatever. I looked into it last night. They basically come in and cook a week’s worth of meals or some shit, on one day.”

“At least they don’t come every day. That’s really uncomfortable to imagine. Especially with secret identities.” She frowned. “We can look into it. Not having to cook or go out every night seems almost worth it.”

Alec flung a finger gun her way.

“Exactly.”

“So. Feel me laughing, huh?”

He groaned.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He grumbled.

“I’m not. Just—empathy? How’s that for you?”

“It’s not everyone all at once. I have to focus on someone. I call it ‘nerve-sight.’ I see your nervous system, can read the emotions. If I know your system, I can feel it as you’re feeling it.”

Taylor sat down on the couch, humming curiously.

“You mentioned your emotions are duller than most. Does the empathy mess with that?”

Alec dropped his head back against the couch, closing his eyes.

“I guess? Part of the appeal of hijacking someone is I can feel their emotions, like—normally. Way more than I feel on my own. Happiness, fear, excitement, arousal.” He waved a flippant hand. “All of that. Like doing drugs. And if they’re doing drugs, I get that feedback too.”

“And you can feel my emotions like that?” Taylor asked, watching him. His new features were already becoming familiar. He cracked open a blue eye, watching her askance.

“If you’re asking if I can hijack you, the answer is yes.” He narrowed his eye at her. “… You’re not freaking out.”

“What am I feeling?” Taylor asked, leaning towards him.

“Curious, mostly.” Alec turned to look at her, suspicious. “Excited? What are you excited about?”

“More nervous.” Taylor admitted. “I was… thinking about it.”

“About what?”

“So… everyone pretty much agrees that powers need to be used. It’s the main reason the Wards exist; parahumans can’t go long without using their powers, let alone wait until they’re eighteen.”

“Don’t worry.” Alec said stiltedly, expression flat. “I’m not going to use that part of my power.”

“I think you should.”

“What?” He snapped, looking—abruptly hunted. “Why?”

“Because powers need to be used. And also I’m curious.”

“If you want to see it in action, you better not hold your breath.” Alec snapped. “Even if a nazi deserves it, it’d be a direct giveaway to anyone looking for me. We don’t need a new Master popping up in the Bay.”

“I meant on me, Alec.”

Alec froze.

“… what?”

“I think you should hijack me. I want to know what it feels like, and it’s got almost no risks.”

“No risks?” Alec laughed, harshly. “Taylor, what the fuck?”

Summoning all of her courage, Taylor turned and laid out on the couch, propping her legs up over his lap. He allowed it almost without thinking of it, moving his hands so she’d be more comfortable.

“You are literally afraid of this just talking about it.” He said, voice flat again. Unimpressed.

His hands were shaking, Taylor noticed after a moment.

“I’m actually more scared of the social aspects,” She admitted. “This—the whole ‘opening up’ thing, saying the wrong thing, making you hate me or think I’m weird.”

Her throat closed up.

“I triggered from my best friend betraying me. Not all at once. A concentrated campaign of… ‘torture’ seems like an exaggeration. It was ‘just’ bullying.” She said bitterly. A deep breath. “It’s… really hard to be friendly. To reach out. Assume that my company is welcome. To… touch like this.”

Alec’s hand settled warm on her ankle.

He looked at her, eyes very blue, expression carved from marble.

“I triggered from ‘just’ sex.” He said, looking away from her, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I was ten.”

Neither volunteered any other details.

Finally, Taylor continued quietly.

“Anyway, I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of—I never found out what made my best friend turn on me. We were like sisters. Grew up together. Then almost overnight, she was… the absolute worst. Hated me. Made me miserable on purpose. Ruined my life on purpose.”

“You don’t know how or why it happened, so you’re afraid of it happening again.” Alec said. “Afraid I’ll just… decide to hate you out of nowhere?”

“It’s happened before.” Taylor said tightly. “I’m aware it’s mostly irrational. That there’s no evidence that it’ll happen again. But there was no reason the first time, either.”

“My trigger was… not the first time.” Alec said eventually, voice dark. “It wasn’t even anything unusual. I think, about halfway through, I finally realized that I was never going to ‘get out.’ That it would keep happening, forever. Always under my father’s thumb.”

“I’m glad you got out.” Taylor reached out, taking his hand and squeezing it.

“Me too.” Alec said. “Why would you want me to control you?”

“It doesn’t seem that scary.” Taylor, historically, had a huge problem letting go of control. This seemed like a good way to practice.

“I could make you do anything.” Alec said, no inflection. “Shave your head, take your clothes off, hurt yourself.”

“Couldn’t you do that now?” She asked. “If you can take control at any moment, it’s not more likely to happen when you’re already controlling me.”

“I… that’s a weird way of looking at it.” Alec frowned hard. “What the fuck?”

“If I’m not afraid of you doing that while sitting next to you, I won’t be afraid when you’re making me walk around or whatever.”

“You say that, but most people freak the fuck out when they try to move and can’t.” Alec snapped. “It’s an instinctual panic.”

“Will you?” Taylor asked. “Make me embarrass myself? Hurt myself?”

“No.” Alec said. “Ugh.” He took the hand off her ankle, covered his face with it.

“Could you be in control but let me move around?” She wiggled her feet, getting more comfortable. “Or is it an all or nothing type thing?”

“It’s up to me, I guess.” He bit out. “It’s more like ‘I have a second body’ than anything. Possession. Your limbs become my limbs. They don’t move when I’m not moving them.”

“Could you try… a lighter possession?” Taylor prodded. “Maybe leave most of it in my control and only do a few things. Or just ‘ride around’ in my body.”

“This is weird.” Alec said, somewhat too quickly. “You realize that, right? It’s weird that you’re talking about this so casually.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Taylor said.

“Mon coeur, you are insane. You should be afraid of being controlled.”

“Sure, Master powers are scary. In general. But you don’t scare me, so your power doesn’t either.” Taylor squeezed his hand again. “You don’t have to, though.”

Alec scoffed.

“I mean it. I can tell you’re uncomfortable with the idea. Just think about it.”

“Are you sure?” Alec said. “It’s not something to do casually.”

“I’m sure.” Taylor unclasped their hands to trail a finger along his palm. “This is a bigger deal for me, honestly.” She gestured with her free hand once more at their hands, her legs over his.

“You’re still curious.” He sighed. “I can feel it. Taylor, you won’t like it. Nobody likes it.”

“It’s consensual.” Taylor said, rolling her eyes. “That makes it pretty different from the other times you’ve done it, I assume.”

Alec flinched. He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. Then he laughed again, almost amused.

“You need a safe word, then.” He said, rubbing his thumb over her ankle, smirking despite himself.

“Ha.” Taylor rolled her eyes. “So if I say the word, you stop?”

“That’s how a safe word works, yes. Mind you, I’ve never had one before so this is all new to me.” Alec snorted again and abruptly fluttered his lashes. “You’ll have to be gentle, ma chérie.”

Snorting herself, Taylor shoved him with the heel of one foot. He snatched it and settled it back.

“Really, it’s my first time.” Lashes fluttering again, a tint of pink to his cheeks even as his shit-eating grin appeared. “Consensually, at least. Huh, wait, that’s actually true. Both ways. Fuck.”

“I’ve obviously never done this before,” Taylor said. “Or…the other thing. Ugh. Is your power always going to be a double entendre now?”

“Ah, that phrase is actually French, you know– tu me mets du baume au cœur. You warm my heart.” He was very pleased by her use of the term, putting a hand over his heart dramatically. “And also yes, because it’s funny. In an awful kind of way.”

“Do we really need a safe word? I can’t think of one. What if I just say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ if I don’t like it?”

Alec paused for a long moment. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Yeah.” He finally said, shaking himself a little. “Okay.”

Taylor relaxed and closed her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

“Normally, when I’m controlling someone, it starts with twitches and spasms as I hold their nerves for the first time.” Alec said quietly, holding onto her ankle. “But if I am very familiar with their body…”

A twitch along Taylor’s leg, and he froze.

“Are you sure?” He asked tightly.

“I don’t know any French pet names to use, but yes. It’s fine. Just—keep talking to me while you do it?”

“It’s rare people ask me to keep talking.” Alec laughed. “Usually, they tell me to shut up.”

“You’re the only one I really talk to.” Taylor said, pressing her lips together. “I’d be pretty silly to tell you to stop.”

“Ah, ma acharné, that’s sad.” Alec sighed.

“Again with the nicknames.” Curious, Taylor prodded. “What’s that one mean?”

“I called you relentless, because you are.” Alec said, amused. “The endearments–les petits noms d’amour. It’s a bad habit I should probably get out of if my secret identity isn’t going to be French.”

“I don’t know enough French to call you anything.” Taylor huffed. “Also, you’re stalling. Talk while you do it, but do it.”

“Impatient.” Alec chided, but another twitch ran up her leg, and all of a sudden a strange stillness came over her. She didn’t move and he didn’t move her, but she was very aware that he could.

“Can you still talk, sweetheart?” The English endearment made her cheeks flush pink, and Alec laughed. “Don’t be embarrassed. But you do have to say something, so I know you can.”

“I can talk.” Taylor managed. “Feels weird, not bad.”

Her hand moved, entirely outside of her own accord, and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You said to talk but I’m not sure what to say, suddenly.” Alec mused. “Nicknames, hmm? You use mon chéri for talking to a boy.”

“That’s like ‘sweetheart’, yeah?”

“Not so romantic. More like darling. Like ‘my dear.’ Something you could say outside of flirting, if you had to.”

“And flirting is like breathing for the French.” Taylor noted, amused.

“We’re a romantic people.” Alec moved her fingers experimentally, not really doing anything with them. Then her arms, hips, knees. Kind of shimmying under his control.

“Is that your favorite, then? ‘Mon chéri’?”

“I like mon prince.” Alec admitted, not without amusement. “Why? Do you want to call me something I like?”

Taylor flushed again and they both felt it.

“I don’t want to use one you hate. Also I’ll probably butcher it, sorry in advance.”

“You could use ‘mon cœur’.” Alec said absently. Taylor’s hands moved, tracing her fingers together. “’My heart.’ It’s fairly common, I used the feminine version earlier.”

“Is that another one that sounds romantic, but can be for friends?”

“Mmhm.” Alec trailed her hand down her shoulder, tugging at the sleeve of her shirt. “If you wanted to be explicit about the flirting, you have to go further afield. Mon mignon, or something.”

“What’s that?”

“Literally? My cute, or I guess cutie, handsome, whatever. It’s kind of like saying pretty boy. If you lay that on someone, they’re going to know you want them.”

“I feel like we’re about this close to the traditional teenage pastime of learning dirty words in another language.” Taylor said, still mostly relaxed—more relaxed as they went, leaning into the control.

Alec lit up.

“Darling, you only had to ask. Literally my favorite subject.” He grinned, eyes dancing. “Va te faire foutre is ‘fuck you’, starting strong. I’d go with baise-moi for ‘fuck me’ but that gets us back into dirty talk instead of dirty words.”

“Of course that’s what you default to.” Taylor said. “Let me roll my eyes, please.”

He gestured and she was suddenly able to, which she did.

“Oh, hey—very funny, in this context.” He pitched his voice. “Je ne peut m’empècher de caresser ton corps.”

Alec ran Taylor’s hand down her chest, over her stomach.

“I can’t stop myself from caressing your body. Get it?” He laughed, delighted with himself.

Unwillingly, she snorted.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, resting her hand on her belly. The other lifted and held onto Alec’s, which he squeezed.

“No, it’s interesting. It’s probably good for you to use your power like this, anyway.”

“Yes, it’s for my benefit.” Alec rolled his eyes. “Anything in particular you want me to try?”

“Can you talk with my voice?”

“Yes.” Alec paused. “Do you want me to?”

She nodded.

“Alright. This is probably the easiest way to learn French, by the way. Hundreds of school children are jealous.” He said with her mouth, which was strange to feel moving when she wasn’t doing it. “Tu peux bouger ta main droite, mon amour. You can move your hand while I use your voice. Squeeze twice and I’ll stop.”

“It would probably be a good test of your powers to have us play video games like this. Train your precision.” Taylor mused.

“Don’t tempt me.” He spoke back, again with her voice.

“It sounds like I’m talking to myself.” She laughed.

“It does.” Alec said with his own voice. “Do you think…”

He paused, so she squeezed his hand, surprised to find she had control still.

“There’s not much I’d say ‘no’ to,” She reassured.

“Tu pourrais tenter un saint.” He muttered, before inhaling roughly. “Can I try using your power? It’s the main benefit to hijacking a parahuman.”

“Sure. Do you know the words? Hinagiku, Baigon, Lily. Santen Kesshun for my shield.”

“Alright. I’m going to take your voice again, love. Stop me if you need to.” Alec’s voice took on a pensive note, as though concentrating on it already.

“Okay,” Taylor said, only squeaking a little bit. The pet names were an unexpected weakness. Who knew?

“I wonder how much the words are necessary.” Alec said, in Taylor’s voice. “Santen Kesshun!”

Nothing happened. Alec frowned using her mouth. It was… strange. He bit her lip.

Taylor tried not to think about it.

“It’s conceptual, right. A thought-based power… Santen Kesshun! I reject!”

A flicker of golden light.

Alec settled her shoulder blades more comfortably against the couch. “Okay, proof of concept anyway.”

“Hinagiku, Lily, Baigo—oh holy shit, I can see them.”

“What?” Taylor asked, taking control of her mouth when he didn’t resist.

“I can see through your eyes, that’s how my power works. It’d be pretty useless in a fight if I couldn’t.”

“Aw, you’re bonding!” Lily laughed, flitting around between them. “Hi, Alec! Nice to meet you!”

Hinagiku did a little somersault, showing off.

“Holy shit, they really do talk to you.” He lifted Taylor’s hand in an awkward wave.

“Hey,” Taylor greeted them, borrowing her mouth. “We’re practicing in case we need to do this in a fight. He can use my power like this, can’t he?”

“Yes.” Baigon said. “Although it is quite strange, princess.”

“Yeah, real weird!” Hinagiku laughed.

“Should he be our ‘prince’, then?” Lily was also deeply amused. “Notre prince, you said?”

Alec choked with both her voice and his, which Taylor giggled to.

“It means ‘our prince,’ but mon prince if only one of us is talking.” Lily confided secretly, in a completely loud whisper.

“Wait, how do you know French?” Taylor thought to ask, whilst Alec was still sputtering in his own body.

“He knew French, so we knew it when he was using your power.” Hinagiku shrugged. “We’re a reflection of you, Taylor. So we were briefly a reflection of him.”

“Keep that in mind, mon prince!” Lily laughed. “When you use our power, you have to mean it! If you want to stop an attack, then stop it! If you want to heal someone, heal them.”

They vanished into golden lights.

Alec cursed.

“Your power is weird, ma acharné.” He paused. “They can still hear me, can’t they?”

“Probably.” Taylor sat up, noticing that her body was her own once more. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“That should be my line.” Alec said, frowning at her. Then: “Come here.”

“What?” Taylor shifted closer on the couch, moving her feet to the floor. There was still most of a cushion in between them.

“Come here, ma têtue.” Gesturing with an open palm.

“Can’t you just make me?”

Alec jerked, startled.

“Just because I controlled you once doesn’t mean I’m going to do it again.”

“I wouldn’t mind. In situations like this. I imagine most parahumans in a team use their powers casually all the time.”

“Most parahumans aren’t human Masters, stubborn girl.” Alec said flatly. “… Do you really want me to?”

“Sure.” Taylor said. “I think it’d be good for you to do it more often. You don’t have to ask first, either. Just leave me my voice so I can say ‘no’ if I need to.”

“Tu es littéralement impossible.” He snapped, bearing his teeth.

“Okay, that was ninety percent overlap with English—not subtle.”

Alec twitched and suddenly she was moving, not under her own control. She laughed.

“It’s supposed to be disorienting. Panic-inducing, even.” Alec moved her until she was pressed against him, their shoulders touching, and then he drug her into his side for a half-hug.

His words were quiet: “You’re supposed to be afraid.”

‘She’ laid her head on his shoulder.

“Disorienting, maybe. We should practice until I’m used to it, in case we ever need to do it in a fight.”

“Intrépide.” Alec huffed, releasing control. She shifted around, getting more comfortable, but did not leave. “Fearless.”

“If you say so.” Taylor brought her knees up on the couch, folding her feet half-under her. It coincidentally caused her to lean more into him, shifting under his arm.

She was bright red, so it didn’t really feel ‘fearless.’ Brave, maybe.

The last time she’d ‘cuddled’ like this had been with Emma, and look how that turned out?

Alec sighed, tension running out of him. He relaxed into her.

“If we’re not going to hire a private chef, ma coéquipière intrépide, we should order a pizza or something. I’m starving.”

“Alright.” Taylor said. “… In a minute, I can’t reach my phone from here.”

He turned and put his chin on her hair.

“Okay. In a minute.”

–

Chapter 12

Watching Alec become Eos was strange. This time, the quality of the wig made it that much stranger. Could it even be called a wig?

It was bullshit edging into tinker-tech territory. Or maybe that should be ‘tinker-tech edging into pure bullshit territory.’

They decided to make a few changes with their first official costumes. With the themes of dawn and aurora, Alec’s new ‘cape’ hair was no longer black—now a soft blonde interrupted with thick streaks of pink and purple.

His costume was of a matching theme, far and removed from the skirt he’d worn. Instead, it looked professional, dramatic, as divorced from civilian clothes as it was possible to be.

It was a completely impractical dress—or it would be, if it wasn’t also tinker nonsense.

The fabric looked gossamer and shimmered, several layers—a soft yellow down the front of it at the skirt, which deepened into a sunset orange; the upper layers on his chest edging into pinks and purples. It looked like he was wearing a layered second and third dress, open-front drapes; one entirely in purple, and another of pink at the bodice, the colors blurring and blending like—well, like dawn.

His shoulders were bared except for the silver metal cuffs around his biceps, and again at his wrists.

Bright pink trails of sheer pink fabric, like giant ribbons, connected his wrists to somewhere near the shoulders, draping down when his arms were lowered.

When he spun around, which he did, something delighted came across his face—only a twitch of his lips, the eyes mostly showing it as they sparkled.

“Taylor, look how my skirt swishes.” He giggled a little, swishing it back and forth. He moved his wrists to watch the streamers move, at least several feet of extra fabric.

“If this stuff wasn’t ‘everything’-proof, we’d look ridiculous.” She sighed, smiling indulgently.

‘Everything’ included bullets, lasers, knives—even force itself. It was as soft as fabric, yet when acted on with force—like a punch—it became harder than diamond, force dispersing through the entire garment and getting absorbed, which also somehow extended its lifespan.

“It’s very Greek.” Alec twitched a smile at her, looking over his shoulder. Strappy sandals completed the look, the straps winding up his legs, criss-crossing—silver, as was his circlet.

He’d traded the crudely-made scepter for a—well, it might have still been a scepter, but it was long as a staff. It had a circular head with points like a stylized sun, and the center was a gem that glowed through all his colors, cycling. Two little wings were on either side of it, making it look a bit cutesy.

With Alec’s usual expression, serenely beautiful but dead inside, it was a little terrifying. His eyes were warm as they watched her, though, so she didn’t spare much thought for the nazis and other villains who’d have to face her teammate.

Taylor was wearing a matching pair of the strappy sandals, and even the same gold bangles. That’s where the color scheme stopped, though.

“Don’t you think you should have taken gold? With the sun theme and all?” She stood in front of the mirror, trying to be critical, to see any flaws.

Alec flounced up behind her, very much walking and moving his hips in ways that made the dress move, until he was close enough to touch. He hesitated only briefly before coming up behind her, settling his chin on her shoulder, a feather-light hand on her arm.

“Not on your life.” Alec’s head tilted slightly, the first thing she saw in the mirror—his face, chin tucked over her shoulder, meeting her eyes through the glass. In these colors, his eyes were more silver than blue.

“I guess we look… good.” She forced herself to concede.

He was almost mouth-wateringly good looking. She kind of wanted to see Clockblocker’s face. Not that she knew what it looked like.

Alec snorted.

“Ma acharné, we look incredible.” His other hand rose, both so soft on her bare shoulders, like he was holding her up in front of the mirror. “Of course you have the gold, it matches your shields.”

Taylor’s hair was not recognizable at all from her previous cape persona; she’d had a bold thought and asked Panacea for a favor, almost regretting it now.

Her hair was now only slightly wavy, cascading down her back in a regal look, but a lighter brown instead of black. Her face was completely bare—and completely different.

Nose shape, eye shape and color—a light spring green—and everything else that could conceivably be changed, had been changed. She was a few inches taller, even, now stretching into the realm of six-feet and a handful of inches.

Taylor could reject it, giving back her normal appearance. And she could reject having rejected it, returning the changes Amy made. It was a stretch of the conceptualization part of her power, but the fairies understood what she meant, and it worked without a hitch.

It would make getting in and out of “costume” a bit harder than donning/doffing a mask, but the benefits far outweighed the risk.

“PHO is gonna lose its shit.” Alec said gleefully.

The rest of Taylor’s outfit proved why. She also had gold bangles on and around her limbs. The dress she wore was a rich, royal blue, stretching almost to the floor. The waist was tied in—yes—a Greek fashion, calling to the paintings and marble statues she’d seen in ancient style.

The most daring part was the slit in the skirt of the dress, riding all the way up to her hip, showing her entire leg on that side when she walked.

Gold embroidery and accent pieces completed the look, draped and fine. Her throat held gold jewelry dripping with sapphire gems. Atop her head was a golden tiara shaped with laurel leaves, lined with the same.

Alec moved, and suddenly the sheer fabric trails at his wrists danced, gossamer, obscuring her vision—and when she could see again, he’d twirled around her, wrapping her up in the impenetrable weave.

“Oh, I’m going to dance with these.” Alec said, doing something else—graceful, lithe like a figure skater, and Taylor was unwound.

“You’re going to be a nightmare to fight if you flow around like that.” Taylor said, approvingly. “It helps that you know exactly where to strike and have a perfect sense of every living thing in your range.”

“I could twirl through the battlefield blindfolded, yes.” Alec was smug. “Ooh, I can’t wait.”

He did a little shimmy that had Taylor’s eyes darting, reflexively, to the ceiling.

“Ma acharné, you look like a queen. We have the best team.”

“Put your mask on.” Taylor admonished, blushing.

She didn’t watch him dance away but when she dared look down, he was wearing his mask. Despite their Greek theming, it was a stylized venetian mask, a faux porcelain affair in white covering his eyes and some of his cheeks. Atop the white background were pink and gold accents, pink all around the inside of the eye holes like eye-liner.

He held his staff in one hand and spun boldly, the skirts picking up and swirling with him in every shade of dawn.

“Tell me I’m pretty.” Alec demanded, lips twitching in something almost like a relaxed pout.

“You know you are.” Taylor said, heart beating faster. She shook herself. “Okay, now take it off.”

“Why, ma reine, how forceful!” He drew his hand over his mouth. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Taylor realized her mistake too late. She rolled her eyes, doubling down.

“Strip, Alec.”

She kept eye contact, waiting to see if he’d make another silly joke. To her surprise, he didn’t. He met her eyes for a moment, visibly considered giving a dramatic and sensual strip show, before finally exhaling with regret.

“You take all the fun out of these things, being so serious.” He started pulling off layers without any fanfare. Taylor’s cheeks, already pink, jumped to a light red. She looked back to the mirror.

The casual and dispassionate removal was almost worse than a ‘show’, as he didn’t draw it out, simply stripped down with economical movements.

“You can look, I’m dressed.” No real amusement in his voice, just the normal flat tones.

“No, go put on something you wouldn’t mind being seen in public in.” Taylor said, without looking. It was too quick, he was definitely wearing something inappropriate.

She could feel him raise one eyebrow.

“You are assuming quite a lot about how shy I am, or what I wouldn’t do in ‘public.’” He drawled, and Taylor coughed.

“Oh my god, Alec.” She rolled her eyes. Fine.

When she turned, sure enough he was in a long-sleeved white blouse short enough to reveal his entire naval, and short black shorts that barely covered anything.

“Do you like them? Look at the back.” She looked reflexively, mostly for the hint of excitement in his voice, and immediately squeezed her eyes shut. Regret.

“You have boxers longer than those. I’ve seen you in underwear that covers more.”

“They say ‘turn your gaze upon this wretched thing’,” Alec said, looking back at her over his shoulder with unhidden glee.

“I can read.”

“There’s a whole line of them,” Alec continued blithely, rubbing his little goblin hands together. “I have a red pair that say ‘enemy of the state’ across the ass. A hot pink one that says ‘submissive and breedable.’”

Taylor had to count to ten. Okay, note to self, keep her eyes above the waist when she visits—she did not doubt at all that he’d be wearing them proudly.

Possibly with more crop tops. Possibly the crop tops would also have obscene phrases.

“If you change back to this we’re going to get arrested.” She said slowly. “Put on something you wouldn’t mind changing into in a hurry and going to the mall in.”

“I went to the mall in this outfit yesterday.” Alec said with amusement.

Taylor’s brain blue-screened.

“Did you cause a traffic incident?” She couldn’t help but demand, and Alec laughed—soft and breathy.

“You think I’d cause a wreck?” He fluttered his eyelashes at her.

“I think you are a wreck.” She told him, feeling abruptly overdressed in an over-embroidered, very formal gown, however armored it may be—while he was in his strange crop top and booty shorts.

Without giving him a chance to put some goddamn pants on, Taylor chanted her spell out of self-defense.

In a flash of gold, like magic, he was back in his full hero ensemble, complete with the mask and crown.

“That’s so weird.” Alec said, but he immediately did a little shimmy, and then a little twirl, moving—almost hesitantly. Shyly, if she could be fooled into thinking he had a shy bone in his body.

A moment later he grinned and swirled across the floor, skirts flaring out like a legitimate princess. Laughter rang out, delighted and sweet.

Taylor sicced her fairies on him, still summoned, and he finished his last several rotations in the booty shorts, spinning too quickly to stop.

“Spoilsport.” He said, breathless from the dancing, still half-giggling, and Taylor consoled herself that at least he was wearing shoes. With her luck she’d de-transform them in a glass-covered parking lot and he’d stumble around barefoot and half naked.

“Come here, you wretched thing.” She said, reaching out with grabby hands. She’d included herself in the last spell, doffing the hero costume for sweats and a hoodie.

“The ‘wretched thing’ is my ass, Taylor.” He walked over anyway, not doing a sashay for the first time in probably half an hour. “What’s up?”

Taylor touched his collar, feeling the thin material of the shirt. It really stopped just below his ribs.

“You look freezing.” She chided, seeing the sleeves were long but equally sheer.

Alec shrugged one shoulder, the sleeve slipping down to bare it. “It’s fine, it’s comfy.”

“I’m fighting the urge to cover you in a bunch of blankets and drag you to the couch for movie nights.”

“Normally I would ask you not to threaten me with a good time, mon amour, but we do need to go out.” He waved a negligent hand. “Kick babies, kiss nazis, show the power of our magical girl transformations, etc.”

“I think you got those first two confused.” She said, wryly. “Why would we want to kiss nazis?”

Alec’s eyes lit up.

“You’re right, they won’t know I’m a boy in costume. Is there anything I can do to look more faggoty?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to say that.”

“Excuse me, how gay do you have to be to use a slur? Because I have sucked a lot of dick.” Alec inspected his nails, a baby pink. With little rhinestones. “No, really—whatever number you’re thinking. It’s too low. Triple it. Multiple it by a hundred. I’ve sucked more dick than that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if we’re ever… no, sorry, I really can’t think of a situation where your hidden talent could get some use.”

“That’s the beauty of Brockton Bay, ma chérie.” Alec patted her cheek, a touch condescendingly. “There’s probably not such a situation.”

“If you want to horrify nazis by kissing them, you’ll have to do it in civilian clothes. And also not do it at all, since it’s sexual assault.”

Alec blinked at her.

“Oh, right. Damn.” He frowned a little, worrying his lip with his teeth. Taylor took his hand, stroking his long, fine fingers.

“Also—they don’t deserve your kisses.” Taylor squeezed his hand. “But we can hold hands and you can, um, kiss my cheek in costume. We can be gay that way. Um, lesbian, I mean.”

Alec’s eyes brightened again.

He kissed her cheek then and there, radiating pleasure, even if it didn’t quite show on his expression.

“Beautiful idea, ma acharné.” He said, blue eyes dancing. “We will surely kill Clockblocker dead, at this rate.”

–

Chapter 13

Alec, somehow, had an eye for fashion.

It made sense for someone so pretty– ‘model’ was far too pedestrian, and his face made Emma look average in comparison– but Taylor literally just saw him in booty shorts that barely covered his ass and desperately hugged it, so “fashionista” was not normally her impression of him. “Gremlin” was more apt.

And yet he seemed as knowledgeable about brands and color combinations as Victoria, when they discussed which shops to visit.

Taylor was trying not to gaze upon that wretched thing as he walked with single-minded determination through the racks, considering and dismissing several items in one confident touch.

Her distraction might have been noticed, but Victoria was like a summer storm falling upon the boutique, assessing with just as fair an eye but much more energetic than Alec, and Amy was looking at her feet or her phone by turn, switching intermittently between bored and unimpressed

Taylor tried to keep her eyes level. Worse, Alec– who was comfortable in his skin and comfortable in hers— could almost certainly feel the direction of her gaze, if the little– the little fucking hip cock he did every so often was any indication, and Taylor was once more reminded just how much he could ‘see’ and feel from his surroundings but specifically from her, whose nervous system he “knew.”

She jerked her sightline up and he can definitely feel her cheeks blushing, if not the curl of embarrassment. He was not facing her but he smiled a little and– ugh. Hate him.

Hate hate hate, she projected and he smothered the smile into his coffee cup until he could smooth his expression back down.

So anyway, that’s how Taylor’s shopping trip was going. Really, it was Alec and Victoria’s shopping trip.

Watching them become friends was a little like watching someone walk up to a pile of gasoline-soaked debris with a leaf-blower and a match.

It was going to be a disaster, but a strangely beautiful one.

Alec wasn’t dressed as a girl today. He also wasn’t wearing anything indecent.

It seemed his taste ran towards the expensive, actually, a fancy coat that buttoned in the front with two rows of buttons, a scarf that was decadently soft, and pants that Taylor couldn’t figure out—they weren’t jeans, but weren’t slacks either, a strange material.

“You clean up nice.” Victoria had said, in approving surprise. Alec had given a little twirl, less flamboyant than usual with his coffee in hand but still looking like he’d just stepped off a magazine.

It made Taylor feel strangely underdressed in comparison. She’d hoped Amy would be a reprieve from the two shoppers, but the other girl was withdrawn—either not noticing Taylor as a fellow sufferer or not caring enough to commiserate.

Of course, she couldn’t fade into the background too much; Alec wouldn’t let her, talking to her often, making her feel included. Vicky was doing the same thing to Amy with much less success, rolling her eyes at the monotone answers the brunette grunted.

Vicky also let Amy get away with it; if Taylor tried squeaking out mono-syllabic answers, she got Alec’s full attention, drawing her into the conversation with a subtle sort of social maneuvering skill she envied. Vicky, extrovert that she was– apparently the Glory Girl getup sprung from a place of deep confidence, no surprise there– joined easily, trading barbs with Alec, encouraging Taylor, and only striking out occasionally with her cousin.

She didn’t let Amy’s irritability get her down, though. Soon she and Alec had a lot of designer clothes piled up between them, a terrifying amount really, and then Alec was ushering her into the dressing room and threatening to help clothe her if she found herself unable.

“Unable and unwilling are two different things!” She’d sputtered, as the door shut behind them, and the boy grinned.

“Are you unwilling, ma petit? I could coax you into it…” His voice did that low purr thing and Taylor flushed scarlet, shoving him back into the dressing room door. Air oomphed out of him and he giggled a little, unbothered, as Taylor unlocked the mechanism and bodily pushed him back into the shop.

She shut the door again– mercifully alone– with a huff. Just her and the armful of clothes she couldn’t have afforded a week ago.

Wait.

“You tricked me!” She let a little smile play over her mouth, lips pursed trying to hide it.

“All is fair, mon trésor!” He called back, sounding absolutely unbothered and unashamed. She reddened further at the implication.

“Flirt.” She scoffed under her breath. Then, realizing he could absolutely feel her embarrassment even through a flimsy door, she pinched her leg harshly.

A gratifying “gah!” sounded from just outside and she laughed. Although she was by herself in the dressing room, she was hardly alone.

“And that’s about all the damage you’ll be doing.” Tsubaki muttered with a sigh, a flash of golden light from her hair. He sat on top of her forehead and pulled a little strand, irritated. Taylor waved a hand at him.

“Don’t listen to him, princess.” Hinagiku huffed. “And you, stop being so impatient– you’ve seen the stuff in this world. She’ll use you eventually.”

Tsubaki scoffed loudly, but subsided.

“Ooh, ooh, try this one on!” Lily gasped, her quiet voice nevertheless carrying. Shun’ō helped her carry a blouse over. Taylor held it up in front of her in the mirror. It was hard to think of herself wearing it– and wearing it next to Alec and Victoria, supernaturally beautiful, seemed like she was trying too hard and would come up short.

Far short.

Still, it was so soft, and they could afford it now… so why not?

“I have no idea how I’m going to explain this all to my dad.” She sighed, when the third shirt and second pair of pants did, in fact, look really good on her. She’d have expected them to pick things far out of her style, but Alec and Vicky together could apparently suss out what would look stupid– and had avoided it.

It was warming, even knowing that they wouldn’t set her up on purpose…

“You’re going to have to tell him something at some point.” Lily said with a fluid shrug. “What? Don’t look at me like that, she will! Even if it’s not the truth, something.”

“I will!” Taylor said defensively. “Maybe Mr. Atkinson will have advice. A cover story as an intern, or something.”

“They’re not going to hurt their bottom dollar.” Tsubaki said, grudgingly participating. “It doesn’t make any sense. He’d file whatever paperwork you asked him to.”

“Ooh! Maybe you applied to a private sponsorship program, or something! For the homeschooling!” Lily waved her sleeves. “With Alex.”

Taylor flushed at the lie that was getting worse and worse. She was spending a lot of time with Alex and now regretted not introducing him to Alec first thing. Was she just going to keep them apart forever? He was such a huge part of her life, now.

“Maybe Alex could have a twin brother?” She grimaced.

No, that way lay madness, as proven by how Lily and Ayame immediately gasped and started laying out the ‘best’ lies– stuff truly worthy of prime time soap operas, dramatic tales of being in two places at once, faking Alex’s death, and more.

“I think I’d rather just admit that I lied, at that point.” Taylor said, making Tsubaki snort. “Then I could distract him with the fact that I’m running a cape team–he’d explode.”

“I think the secret boyfriend would offend him more than you risking your life.” Baigon said, voice serene and low. “He cares greatly about you. But he is a father. And Alec is very pretty.”

“Don’t remind me.” Taylor muttered, trying on a sweater. It was decadently soft, definitely the kind of thing Alec would wear. She looked at the price tag and blanched.

“Also, he’s not my boyfriend.” She added belatedly.

“Oh!” Hinagiku flew forward. “We should get this one for him. Wanna know why?”

Lily snickered and hovered on her other side, tugging on the sleeve.

“Is it because of the material?” The pink-haired fairy asked, somehow sly, and Hinagiku nodded so hard he almost fell over, laughing.

“I’m going to regret asking.” Taylor sighed. “What’s the sweater made of?”

“Boyfriend material!” Her fairies chirped, and she forcefully de-summoned them with a harsh arm gesture. The face in the mirror was bright red, and their laughter echoed in the dressing room.

She only got half the outfits– she still had to take it all home– but she did end up buying the sweater for Alec. He ran his hands over it like he couldn’t help it, feeling the soft black fabric under his fingers.

“Thank you.” He said, looking oddly pleased and a little pink, and Taylor resolved not let the fairies out around him for at least a few days, lest their little joke ruin… things. She liked having a friend. That kind of joke would make her seem desperate and lonely.

As the boardwalk got more crowded later in the day, Alec held her hand, keeping her close. It was nothing they didn’t do in their hero personas, yet it made her shiver all the while.

She cursed her own power for putting dumb ideas in her head. It was nothing she hadn’t thought before, but it was… so far outside the realm of possibility. She’d have better luck trying to steal the sun.

–

Chapter 14

‘Cleaned up nice’ was an understatement, unfortunately.

It only got worse after their shopping trip.

Taylor was used to the boy who was just trying to survive, wearing a ridiculous combination of her old clothes and whatever nonsense he impulse-bought once they had a little money from pawning jewelry. Nothing fancy.

She was so used to that Alec, in fact, that when a gorgeous stranger in a dark, expensive coat–with a Bradbury scarf tucked into the neck– pulled her into an alley, she didn’t recognize him.

Words of violence jumped to her lips, hair pins vibrating, but the absurdly attractive boy just pressed her against the brick wall and leaned in close. Taylor’s face was on fire. She could be in real danger, and yet—the hands weren’t rough or hurried.

And when he spoke she recognized his voice, if from far closer than normal.

“Hey, I think the Empire’s doing something up ahead.” A pause, as he drew back from her ear. “Taylor?”

“Warn a girl, jeeze.” Heart beating fast, she tried to get in some even breaths, hand flying up to her chest in the scant few inches that existed between them. Even still, her knuckles brushed his fancy coat buttons.

Alec looked her over with assessing eyes, probably with his power, and Taylor ignored him. A small smile curled his lips up just so.

“My bad.” He said, no trace of smugness audible. “Want to go fight some nazis?”

“Always.” Taylor did a quick shake down of herself, shedding what embarrassment she could. “We’re not dressed, though.”

“Hence the alley.” He hadn’t actually moved away from her, still crowding her against the brickwork. This was made evident by how easily he dropped his head to her shoulder, breath tickling her neck.

“Alec?” She squeaked, more than a little distracted by the warm press of bodies.

“Shh, I’m concentrating. Get ready to transform us, I’ll let you know when nobody’s going to walk by for a second.”

There was relatively steady foot traffic in this area so that would be necessary. Of course, nobody would pay attention to two teenagers… necking in an alley.

Trying to conquer the blush she knew he could feel, Taylor called her fairies under her breath. Shun’ō and Ayame got into position early, both clearly giggling at her.

“Now.” Alec said, mouth touching her skin and Taylor finished the kotodama hurriedly.

The golden shroud formed, draping them, and their clothes burned away to reveal their costumes, complete with the hair changes and Alec’s scepter-staff.

“That,” Eos said, stepping away, eyes alight. “was really cool.”

Taylor also thought it was cool, but groped desperately for something to think about other than the havoc he’d wreaked by pressing her against the wall.

“You think it would violate the unwritten rules if I put the Empire in their underwear? I could leave the masks.”

Eos guffawed, filling up the alley. Isis grinned, proud of herself.

“You definitely should.” She tucked a blonde curl over her shoulder, and Isis noticed an array of flowers woven into it above her ear.

“When’d you braid in the flowers?” She was still close enough to touch so she did, surprised to find them real.

“Yesterday.” Eos shrugged. “I was bored.”

“Should we text Vicky about the potential fight?”

Eos hummed. “I think she’s in school right now?”

“Right.” Isis had been walking in the direction of Arcadia, actually, half-heartedly wondering about their after-school programs.

Eos took her hand and led her out of the alley, towards the commotion.

“I didn’t sense any capes but I also didn’t stay very long once I felt you enter my range.” She said. “Time being of the essence to grab you and all.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.” Isis said dryly. “I think you took seven years off my life.”

Instead of jumping out right where Alec had seen the commotion, they approached in a roundabout way, keeping relatively low profile in case it was more than they could handle.

Alec made a gesture as they almost rounded the final corner, calling for a stop. The mental whiplash between seeing him as Alec/her as Eos was messing with Taylor.

It was definitely an Alec expression she wore as she reached for Isis again, pulling her close.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Just being subtle.”

“I really don’t think you know how to be.” Isis let herself be pulled into a too-close… embrace? Huddle? She was pretty sure her teammate was just fucking with her.

“About six normal cronies, breaking up a store-front.” Eos said, voice pitched low. “Sabrina the Teenage Nazi on overwatch, making sure things go ‘smoothly’ and no one interferes.”

“What?” Isis shivered. Teens on the Empire… “Rune?”

“Yeah, on a chunk of floating concrete. That girl must be hell on property values.”

“Just her, no other capes?”

“Mmmhmm,” Eos’ voice, too close to her ear, seemingly content to stay right where she was.

“Neither of us have really good options for taking down unpowered thugs.” Isis considered, before stiffening. “What about the owner of the store?”

“Held at gunpoint, looks like.” Eos also got a bit serious. “I can wack my way through with the taser, and I’m decent at hand to hand. Make arms and legs twitch to get them down.”

“You decided to go with the twitching/nerve ‘blast’ then?” Eos rested her head on Isis’s shoulder, nodding. “Okay, Shaker 3 and shields, we can do this.”

“Team Shaker, woo.” Eos said softly. “You’ve got the little nazi that could?”

“Well, if I put up a shield, she can’t hurt me. I think I’ve got it.” Isis bit her lip. “Worst case, I just wear her out until you can help.”

“Deal.” Eos steps back a little, letting her go—but hands lingering before they release her entirely. “Good luck, don’t die.”

“You too.”

Thus, Isis is left to figure out her opening move. She wants to distract the cape as Eos moves in, to make sure all Rune’s attention is focused on Isis and not her comparatively less protected teammate.

The best she can think of is the underwear joke, which would probably… not be great for her reputation. Either way, she called up each of her fairies by turn, letting them float around her in a ready formation.

Too late, they came into view. It took Rune a few seconds of her visual sweeping to notice them, by which time Eos was already halfway to the front door of the store—windows blown out entirely.

Stop right there, evildoer! Almost came out and she strangled it, hard. The shop was a little sandwich bistro. Debris lined the street, most of it food-related.

Isis picked up a bottle of ketchup and hurled it at Rune just as the girl was turning her massive piece of concrete around.

“Hey, you!” She shouted. “You hate sandwiches or something?”

“This doesn’t concern you!” Rune shouted back. “Leave, and things won’t have to get messy.”

The ketchup bottle flew nowhere near true, of course, missing by a mile. It was sufficiently attention-catching, however.

“You’re already making a mess!” Isis countered. “Stand down and you’ll be taken in peacefully.”

“Fat chance!” Rune hollered back. “You don’t want to fuck with the Empire, newbie!”

Chunks of things floated around her, cinderblocks and other construction items, mostly. She gestured and a pipe flew at Isis, missing by a few feet.

“Last chance!”

“Go ahead and try!” Isis shouted. “Santen Kesshun! I reject!”

Blazing bright, the shield formed golden, protecting Isis’s front. She ran towards Rune, shield held up, and blocked a number of projectiles.

Just when she was getting confident, however, and trying to work out how to get fifteen off the ground to smack the villain, some of the debris jerked back, slamming into Taylor from behind.

Fuck!

She gasped with pain as something took out her legs, another hitting her in the back.

“Ayame, Shun’ō, I need you!” A shroud formed before she could properly get the words out, rushing it, “Sōten Kisshun.”

Her aches and pains whisked away, blood vanishing. God, but that had hurt. Gunfire from the direction of the store, the sound of yelling.

At least Eos was probably having fun.

So, Rune didn’t lose control over objects once she threw them—it was more like a yoyo situation.

Not a great match up for Isis.

“Santen Kesshun! I reject!” A shield around her, making an orb. It took more concentration this way, but allowed Isis full-coverage protection. She should have started with that.

“Nice forcefield, bitch!” Rune called mockingly. “Does it let you do anything but sit there?”

Annoyingly, she was right. Isis didn’t have an offensive power yet.

“Come on, princess, let me fuck her up.” Tsubaki said. “Just want it real bad, I know you can do it.”

Right. Tsubaki insisted he could ‘take care’ of her enemies, had begged to be let loose on the trio. Refused to elaborate on what he could do beyond that.

Isis didn’t want to hurt someone, though. Not even a teenage Nazi supervising the demolition of a store. She felt she should save that for someone who really deserved it—or at the very least, not test it out for the first time in the middle of a fight.

Rune didn’t wait for an answer, throwing her field of objects at Isis over and over again, pummeling the shield to no effect. Maybe she’d get tired.

Tsubaki scoffed loudly, all but calling her a coward.

“Hey!” A familiar voice called, a few minutes into the bombardment. Isis hadn’t come up with a better plan than ‘distract and wear out the villain’.

Eos was outside the shop, someone’s foot sticking out next to her. She looked bright and audacious with her dress and the blonde hair. She was also holding a gun, which she unloaded promptly in the flying nazi’s direction, the thing jerking in her hands one after another with a horrific cascade of noise.

“What the fuck, escalate much?” Rune demanded, turning towards Eos and abandoning Isis.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are the flying cinderblocks not lethal if you hit someone in the head with them?” Eos yelled back. “Don’t be a baby, I didn’t even hit you.”

She tossed the gun aside, ducking behind a car as Rune threw the aforementioned cinderblock.

Isis was already sprinting over, familiar with this trap.

She shoved Eos into the beat up old Corola, bodily slamming into him, letting the shield around her shatter.

“Santen Kesshun!” She gasped, reforming it instantly, this time with both of them inside.

Eos muttered something into the side of the car. Isis slowly let her free.

“So, we really need a long range option.” She sighed, straightening. “I could get another gun?”

“No gun.”

“Well, I could make her leg twitch pretty hard, drop her off that flying rubble, but that’d do more damage than the gun.” Eos paused, expression flat. “Probably. I’m willing to try, anyway.”

Isis frowned, thinking hard. Things clattered off the shield, doing nothing, with more and more speed as Rune got frustrated.

“It’s a stalemate. I could make a bubble around her, maybe, but half her tagged objects are outside the field—she could just throw them around anyway, this time untouchable.”

“You can make the force fields selectively permeable.” Eos hissed. “Why not reject powers working on the inside?”

“I was talking about the inverted shield bubble, not the healing shroud!” Isis said back. “With my luck I’d take her powers away completely!”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Probably not in this case but the PRT does not need to know I can—potentially—do that. We don’t need the attention.”

“Fine, then get ready to heal her.”

“Eos, no—”

Too late, Eos stood and threw her hand out, Rune screaming as her legs jerked under her. She tumbled ass over tit off her flying platform, screaming with horror.

She landed the roughly twenty feet with a sickening thump.

They hurried over to the dazed nazi, already trying to raise up more hunks of ammunition despite her injuries—she was lying on the ground, arm broken under her at least.

“Sorry, not sorry.” Eos lowered her staff, tazing her. Rune slumped to the ground.

“Ugh, that was messy.” The blonde complained. “Still, good job on not dying. Yay team, and all that.”

“That was risky.” Isis chided. “Ayame, Shun’ō.”

“On it, princess!” The shroud formed.

“Sōten Kisshun, I reject.”

Under the steady glow of her power, the girl’s broken body reformed.

“We don’t need to get slapped with labels of excessive force, just because I can heal them afterwards. It’s still brutality.”

Eos snorted. “I just realized–there’s no way Glory Girl doesn’t do this, like, all the time. No reason to hold back with Panacea in your back pocket, right?”

“I will kick your entire ass.” Isis said. “We’re trying to be heroes, here.”

“Yeah, yeah, be good, don’t mutilate the nazis, fine.” She pouted. “All the normie thugs should be mildly concussed, by the way. No gunshot wounds or broken bones. Well, none by me anyway.”

“Eos, I swear to god if someone over there is bleeding out from friendly fire…”

“No, no, they’re fine.” The dawn-themed hero’s eyes lost a little focus, thinking—well, Thinkering. “Yeah, only one was shot and it’s just a graze.”

“Truly, that fills me with such confidence.”

Eos shrugged. “Did the best I could, boss. The shop-owner is fine, by the way. Scared, pissed—a black woman, which explains why the Empire decided to ruin her day. Even if insurance covers all this, she’s fucked for the month, might even have to close altogether.”

“Well, we can do something about that, at least.” Isis straightened, manhandling Rune face-down as the girl started to come to. “She doesn’t have any kind of brute rating, does she?”

“Nope.” Eos knelt on her back and zip-tied her hands rudely. “Just got to make sure she doesn’t ‘fall’ down and touch the road or something. Hands still before I break them, nazi brat.”

The last aimed at Rune, who had abruptly started to struggle.

She froze as she realized she was in custody—and they’d already proven willing to break her bones once. Taylor’s gut twisted. It was a little fucked up to threaten to hurt someone just because she could heal them—too close to torture for her liking.

“Do your thing, Isis, I’ve got her handled.” Eos smiled menacingly as she started zip-tying the fingers together too, humming.

“You won’t get away with this.” Rune hissed, as Isis left them. “The Empire will get me out and then come after you. You think your little shields will save you? You’re fighting way above your weight-class, bitch.”

“Blah, blah. Nazis superior, definitely not just a bunch of racist fucks. Look how scared I am.”

Trusting her teammate wouldn’t leave the other blonde with more than psychological scars, Isis approached the deli.

Glass, smashed. Stands overturned, displays ruined, everything that could be torn, torn. Shit thrown, food everywhere, and a woman with furious tears in the middle of a bunch of unconscious thugs.

“Let me tie them up and then I’ll fix this.” She assured the woman, who snorted darkly.

“There’s no fucking fixing this.” She snapped, looking around with mounting dismay. Isis let her think that.

“Call the PRT.” She said instead of trying to reason with her. Some people did better with something to do in a crisis.

The woman walked off, muttering under her breath, but she did obligingly pull out a phone.

Isis was tying miscellaneous thug number four’s wrists together when the woman spoke up again.

“They’re already on their way, somebody called it in once they saw that one floating out there.” She jerked her head to the street. “They’ll be here in a minute.”

“Good, thank you.” Isis patted him down, making sure he didn’t have any hidden weapons—this time removing a knife and a wallet, which she tossed in front of him.

“Need anything else?”

“Could you get started taking pictures of this mess? For your insurance, if you need it.”

“Fine.”

By the time the PRT arrived, several transport vehicles and a singular cape, the six gang members were hauled to the sidewalk outside the store, and the owner was mostly finished documenting the damage.

Eos had way too much fun applying extra zip-ties to their powered prisoner, zip ties connecting every finger together at each knuckle, then a few more for the apparent aesthetics, and four going up her forearms from the wrist.

“Pantheia, right?” The cape was Dauntless, and he’d chosen to ride with the PRT rather than fly in. “Good job on a successful capture. If a bit overkill on the detainment.”

“Can’t be too sure.” Eos chirped, patting the Empire cape, who more or less was like a muzzled Pomeranian and just as growly.

“So I see.”

“No BBPD?” Isis asked curiously. “I wouldn’t think you’d also take the non-cape prisoners.”

“Standard procedure.” Dauntless explained easily. “We don’t call the police force to cape crime scenes—most of the time. Easier for jurisdictional reasons to process them as part of a cape crime, and then if needed extradite them to BBPD.”

“Ugh, paperwork.” Eos grimaced, shivering theatrically. “Speaking of, you need statements from us?”

She brightened, no doubt about to tell the embellished tale of how she cut through the mooks with her pretty trailing cloths, dancing around blows and downing them easily.

Poor Empire thugs, seeing a pretty hero flow by, all soft drapes—only to go ‘hrrk’ and get choked and thrown by gossamer pink fabric snapping tight around their necks.

“Just one more thing to do before we make the report.” Isis corrected. “I’d rather this be a ‘forgiveness than permission’ thing.”

“Wait,” Dauntless said, suddenly alarmed.

Eos threw her head back and laughed as the shield, already poised two words away from forming, lit up the entire street, covering the shop and the halfway unconscious gang members.

A few minutes later, the deli looked entirely undamaged, and the nazis were all awake and various shades of pissed off.

“It’s not actually safe to knock people out.” Isis said patiently. “Additionally, this way the owner doesn’t need to call her insurance company. Maybe note it down as an incident or something, though.”

“Thank you.” Said owner said fervently, looking around with wonder.

Dauntless was pinching his nose.

“I don’t suppose you’re already a certified healer?” He tried, little bit of hope rising. Eos looked smug.

“Yes, actually. Let’s exchange information while I give you that report. Here’s my law firm’s card, as well.”

“Law firm.” Dauntless sighed. “Not ‘lawyer’ but ‘law firm.’ Of course. Why not?”

Then he actually glanced at the card, saw the words Panacea Law, and literally dropped it.

If he whimpered, they heroically pretended not to hear it.

–

Chapter 15

Taylor’s costume didn’t have Alec’s impractical fabric trails dangling from her wrists, but she did have a royal blue shawl that was meant to be worn half-draped at the elbows.

It was likewise a weapon, one she could wrap around her opponents or whip around as a physical shield.

As they walked down the streets of the city, this time they were instantly recognized as capes.

They waved to quite a few people, but didn’t sign any autographs. This was a rougher part of town, not the boardwalk.

“If we don’t see any Nazis today, we should make out at the boardwalk until they show up to pick a fight about it.” Alec hummed, already bored.

Taylor missed a step. She corrected for the stumble with a huff.

“Do you enjoy saying shocking things to catch people off guard?” She demanded.

“Generally, yes.” Alec glanced at her, blinking. “What about that was shocking?”

“Nevermind.”

“Wait, which part of that—”

“Hellllloooo, Pantheia!” Like a shooting star, Glory Girl descended to their position. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Nice new hair. And gorgeous dress. Did you pick up brute powers when I wasn’t looking?”

Victoria spun through the air, looking with a whistle.

Alec struck a pose. She clapped.

Well, Taylor should probably use cape names with them all in costume like this.

“The dresses probably rate us brute powers.” Isis admitted. “It’s tinkertech. I wouldn’t want to be punched in the face, but the fabric should absorb and disperse the force of a hit from anyone short of Alexandria.”

“Wow, I bet that’s expensive.” Glory Girl said, nodding. “New Wave is in an exclusive contract with our cape designer. It’s sturdy but not that resistant to damage.”

“Luckily, Isis is willing to sell her services to the highest bidder.” Eos said, nimbly dodging the elbow said heroine threw his way.

“Healing is lucrative like that, yeah.” Glory Girl was level with them, toes dangling—still about six inches above the ground. “Are you patrolling?”

“Shh, be bewwy, bewwy quiet.” Eos put a finger to his lips. Her lips? “We’re hunting nazis.”

“Oh, my favorite sport.” Glory Girl’s expression lit up with violent ideation.

Eos giggled.

“I was telling—Isis here, that we could probably lure them out of their rat holes with some hot girl on girl action, but she shot me down. My heart is broken.” This was delivered in the most deadpan tone.

Glory Girl appraised him with faint amusement.

“Yeah, that’d do it. It’s not the smartest idea. Hard to pay attention to your surroundings when you’re—yeah.”

One of Eos’ eyebrows rose.

“Familiar with the experience, are we? Do tell.”

“Ha—wow, haha, no. You haven’t heard? I’m dating the Ward, Gallant. We have to keep things professional on patrol, or we’d miss… things.” A touch of pink in her cheeks.

“Things like Hookwolf coming in, full murder mode.”

“Exactly.”

By god, if this went on any longer they’d throw finger guns at each other.

“Luckily, team Pantheia is not beholden to silly Protectorate regulations. Isis, we should remember to put up a shield if we have hot monkey sex on the Boardwalk.”

Glory Girl choked. Then she laughed, rich and full.

“You better be careful with that mouth, pretty boy. PR will eat you alive. Or should I say pretty girl?”

Oh, no. Seeing immediately where that was going, and wanting to cut off the another ‘I’m the dick-sucking champion of the tri-state area’ speech—or worse, Alec deciding to flirt about it—

Isis stepped forward, dress swaying about her thighs. And revealing the massive thigh-slit.

“We’ll be sure to keep it family friendly for the reporters. And any statements.” A sharp eye to Eos got a nod, though not without a put-upon sigh.

“Do you mind if I tag along?” Glory Girl asked. “I’m meeting up with Gallant and his Wards patrol at the edge of downtown. This bit I usually fly by on my own since it’s the rougher area—invincible, you know? And join them for the slightly safer Wards route.”

Isis turned to Eos. She needn’t have bothered.

“Which other Wards?” Eos pounced, smile twitching.

“Eclipse and Clockblocker.”

“Yes!” Eos pumped his fist in the air. “Oh, this will be perfect.”

“Ooh, which one are you excited to see? Any crush I should know about?”

“I’m French, my dear, we make and lose crushes like the sea breeze. A heart cannot be tamed.” He folded a hand over his chest. “That said, I’m pretty sure we can get Clockblocker to walk into a wall. With all three of us, maybe more.”

Glory Girl snorted a laugh.

“Oh my god, you’re so evil. You’re sure you’re not a villain team?” She put her hands on her hips. “Because I’d be obligated to stop you, you know.”

She maintained a heroic pose and stare-down, though her lips were twitching almost uncontrollably.

“Okay yes, please let me help you fuck with Clockblocker, it’s a hilarious activity.”

“Deal.” Eos said at once. “Now we at least have something to look forward to if the EMPIRE DECIDES TO KEEP BEING SPINELESS COWARDS.”

The last bit was bellowed at the top of his lungs, projected into the streets—the streets that bordered the Empire’s “territory.” Isis facepalmed.

“Holy shit, the stones. Are you trying to start an all-out war?” Glory Girl looked impressed despite herself. “Mom would kick my ass if I even thought of challenging them like that.”

“I’m tired of being good.” Eos said, dipping his chin smartly. “I wanna fight some assholes, already.”

“Mood.” Glory Girl looked to Isis then. “And you? You’re the brains of this operation, right?”

“Hey!”

“The leader, I mean.” Glory Girl corrected herself without really apologizing.

“I’m just here for moral support.” Isis raised both hands. “Eos needs the enrichment for h-her enclosure.”

Eos murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘Shaker 12 moral support’ and Isis elbowed him, keeping a regal countenance and posture.

“We’d love to accompany you on your route.” Isis told Glory Girl. “And the wards patrol after. Lead the way.”

Alec did a muted little fist pump of victory.

–

Victoria and Alec got along like a house on fire.

Taylor realized she kept referring to him as Alec, and as a him, and tried to do better about it. It was just hard, knowing what she knew—that it was Alec in that dress, smirking over at her, and that it was all a big deception.

But sometimes it didn’t seem that way, because Eos was a hero, and Taylor—Isis—needed to lean into that more lest she accidentally misgender her teammate out loud.

For that matter, ‘Victoria’ should really be ‘Glory Girl’ to Isis when they were in costume. It helped that she had the vibe going—the entire costume radiated cape identity, and nevermind if the girl underneath was glaringly obvious to Isis.

Fortunately she didn’t have that problem with Eclipse and Clockblocker, since she had no idea about the boys behind the armor.

“Eos. Isis.” Eclipse greeted, walking over with a warm handshake when they joined the Wards patrol. “Excellent job taking in Rune.”

Isis shook his hand professionally, but Eos swooned.

“Fucking up nazis is its own reward.” She grinned, and Eclipse visibly did a small doubletake.

Clockblocker laughed.

“A girl after my own heart. Don’t mind Eclipse, here, he’s not normally this stuffy but we just found out he’s officially going to be the Wards leader when Triumph graduates.”

An armored white hand slapping down on Eclipse’s back, the boy not looking amused—as much as a full face helmet can look unamused, anyway. It was all in the body language, and figuring out Alec’s all the time—necessary when his facial expressions communicated so little– had helped Isis get a little better at it.

“Does operational security mean nothing to you?” Eclipse asked dryly and Clockblocker shrugged, fluidly. They were both doing the cape thing where you exaggerated your body language to make up for the lack of facial expressions, actually.

Maybe Isis wasn’t as good at reading them as she’d thought. Oh, well.

“Ooh, spilling secrets, Clock?” Eos hip checked him playfully.

“It’s going to be announced this week, probably. Plus, you’re heroes. Getting the inside scoop and all that.”

Glory Girl’s laugh filled the street. She was floating at about eye level, sitting crisscrossed with her hands in her lap.

“Speaking of heroes, you’re one short, boys.” She pouted. “Where’s mine?”

Despite his businesslike demeanor, Eclipse did drop a laugh at that one, short and dry.

“He’s on overwatch, Glory Girl. Using the sensor in his helmet to get a lay of the area.”

“Right.” Something of a smirk in Glory Girl’s tone. “Nice of you to stick him up high for me, anyway.”

She rose through the air, flying lazy spirals until a particular rooftop caught her eye and she vanished.

“He’s a tinker, right?” Eos asked, stepping back and almost absently doing a little twirl, to dance her skirt out. “Manufactured emotional blasts, or whatever, according to PHO.”

“Yess.” Clockblocker answered. “’Emotional blasts’ is pretty accurate, actually. You’re a sensor too?”

“Mhmm.” Eos adjusted her wrist-trailing fabric as they started walking down the road, drawing much more attention as the four of them, but paradoxically less than Pantheia had on their own—the Wards were a known quantity.

“Nice.” Clockblocker sounded approving, under his full-coverage helmet. “I like the new look, by the way. Can’t remember if I said.”

Eclipse did something with his body language that made it clear he was rolling his eyes, stepping in next to Isis.

“I make darkness.” He confided, taking her attention. “Somewhat ironic next to a dawn goddess, I’ll admit.”

“As bright as she is, she doesn’t actually make light. Maybe a bit with the taser.” Pronouns, nailed it!

“The staff is electric?”

“Yeah. And the gem glows a bit, I guess.”

They both looked at the hero who had Clockblocker basically walking on clouds.

“If we find a way to incorporate a light show, you two would make a fun combination.” Isis smiled a little, imagining it. Alec would love a spotlight, now that his identity was safer.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Eclipse said. “Wait.”

He stopped, a hand sign signaling a similar pause in his teammate.

“Eclipse copies.” He said after a moment, hand at his ear. “Gallant sees a group up ahead. Console reports Uber and Leet have a filed permit for a demonstration in the area.”

“They do things legally?” Isis asked, despite herself. While she wasn’t an expert on local capes, those two made the news fairly often. Kind of becoming a household name.

“Sometimes.” Clockblocker laughed. “They file the paperwork with the city for events. It’s only gone wrong once or twice, Leet’s a pretty good tinker.”

“If they didn’t jump through the legal hoops, they’d get a villain label pretty quick. Minor villains, but still.” Eclipse led them again. “Console says we’re clear to wait in the crowd, intervene if things go haywire.”

Sure enough, a few streets up was a gathered crowd outside a game store. The spectacle had yet to begin properly.

“Oh, it’s for the new Castlevania import from Aleph!” Clockblocker said suddenly.

Alec perked right up.

“That’s right, these two do the video game theme.” Eos grinned. “I’ve played the third game but not the first two. This is the fourth, right?”

Clockblocker spun around with hearts on his visor.

“You play video games?”

“Yeah, I—”

“Shh!” Eclipse waved them both down as fog rolled out of nowhere.

From what Isis could divine, the game was about some sort of monster-hunter. Dracula was the villain, as attested by the finger-pointing and screaming at a caricature of Dracula.

“You think I could pull of a Sypha?” Eos muttered to Clockblocker, who was already shaking his head.

“Wrong color scheme, she wears blue. And throws around magic powers. Your teammate, however…”

“Absolutely not.” Isis said, the idea of getting in front of a crowd nauseating. Especially without being invited or rehearsing!

Eos pouted.

“But I will buy the game for you and play it with you.”

She brightened considerably, to Clockblocker’s groan.

A number of monstrous creatures spawned in, soundly defeated by Uber-as-the-protagonist. That probably put Leet in as the Dracula-expy, who was at least having fun with his evil villain speech.

“Not really book-accurate.” Isis said quietly, earning a huff of amusement from Eclipse.

Protagonist Uber was wielding a clearly tinker-derived weapon. It flashed through various configurations, becoming a sword, a whip, and a gun at different times.

It was towards the end of the performance that the weapon started smoking.

“Uh-oh.” Dracula said.

To wit, it’s never a good thing when a a tinker says ‘uh-oh.’

Isis shoved Eos back, putting her on crowd control, and rushed forward with Clockblocker.

A wave of darkness came from Eclipse, cutting off the scene in a slowly-rising wall.

Clockblocker reached out and slapped the sparking weapon out of Uber’s hands, but instead of falling to the ground it froze in mid-air. Uber scrambled back as Dracula—Leet—darted towards it, looking from every angle.

“Damn, that doesn’t make any sense.” Leet said. “It’s the same hard-light tech for the weapon as it is for the minions.”

“Can you fix it?” Clockblocker said tightly. “It’s not frozen forever.”

“Fix it? It shouldn’t be broken! It’s the exact same tech.”

“Leet!” Uber said urgently, snapping him out of it.

“I can fix it.” Isis was surprised to note it was her own voice. All turned toward her.

“If it was working earlier, I can put it back in that state. It’ll probably still malfunction in that same time frame though, my power is just running back the clock in this case.”

“That gives me a few hours to study what’s going wrong after, what, two hours of use, if we include the practice tests?”

Uber nodded tightly.

“Alright, we’ll have to watch closely then. The second my power drops, you can take it.” Clockblocker nodded, taking several wide steps back.

“Why wait?” Isis put out a hand. He started to speak only to frown as her words commanded a bubble of gold around the mid-air weapon, currently frozen in the shape of a maul.

“I reject!”

The configuration changed, replaced over a few moments with a metal box.

When the bubble vanished, the box fell, no longer affected by Clockblocker’s power.

“Huh.” The Ward said, oddly still.

“I don’t know why it’s a box now.” Isis said. “I guess this is how it looked when you first finished it?”

“No, yeah, you got it right.” Leet picked up the box, fiddled with it, and it folded in on itself in a dizzying series of clicks and shifting components until it resembled a bare, unadorned hilt.

He flicked it and a laser sword erupted from the hilt.

“No smoking. No sparking.” He glanced at her. “Are you interested in commission work? We’ve been noticing a worrying trend in my tech lately to malfunction after time, even with regular maintenance.”

“Maybe.” Isis frowned. “Can you pile all the problem pieces together and let me do it all at once? I can do that twice a month or so.”

“My hero.” Leet practically swooned, Uber sighing.

“Alright, important question.” The thinker in medieval wear said, glancing at the assembled heroes. “The darkness, that’s Eclipse? And you in the blue, with the gold power? Do you guys want to help us finish the show?”

Clockblocker and Eos were eminently disappointed not to be invited, their costumes and powers not having an obvious role.

They cheered loudly when Isis took on Sypha’s role, however, and the seeping darkness pooling over their ankles and calves added an incredible ambiance to the performance.

Gallant and Glory Girl never met back up with them, but from Eclipse’s put-upon sigh, it wasn’t unusual behavior from the couple. Eos and Clockblocker snickered.

–

Chapter 16

“We really need a plan for you that isn’t ‘invincible sitting duck.’” Alec said later, swinging his feet.

“Ugh, I know, don’t remind me.”

“I’m just saying. It’s pretty much asking for another stalemate situation. What’s our plan against all the other capes in the city?”

“I’ll come up with something.”

“I guess.” He drawled. “It’s not like you have to be a ‘patrolling’ hero, anyway. You could be a Panacea-type hero and be set for life. Just makes me feel like a bit of a freeloader, if I’m not doing anything but cashing in a paycheck for being on your team.”

“Liar. You’d love being a freeloader.”

“True, but I might be really bored without, you know, the occasional cape fight.”

“As long as you get your bribes of food and video games, you could live a happy life this way.” Taylor challenged. “Just be my bodyguard the way Vicky is for Amy, I guess.”

“Oh, I’ll guard your body so well.” Alec grinned, leering forward. “I’ll watch it—”

“Alec.”

“Fine, fine, take my fun.” He sighed. “Yeah, I guess that works, but you don’t just want to be a healer, right?”

She stared. They were on the roof of a tall building, overlooking the bay. Two teenagers who could become capes in just a momentary flash of light, eating their lunches in a scenic area.

“I like being out there.” She said slowly, meaning the Bay in general. “Helping people.”

“Fighting nazis?”

“Yeah.” She cracked a grin, unable to help herself. “You never have to feel bad about violence against nazis.”

“Or racists.” Alec slung an arm over her shoulder. “ABB is pretty racist. Most gangs around here have some type of prejudice going on, actually. Weird.”

The sunset was spread out in front of them, reflecting off the bay, turning the old, rusted hunks of the ship graveyard into something almost beautiful.

“I…” The truth hovered on her tongue. How much was she willing to reveal? If she couldn’t trust her teammate, who could she trust?

Alec turned toward her, pretty boy with dark curls, the same color as hers. Eyes like chips of ice. They caught the setting sun and burned golden, reflections of fire dancing on fresh snow.

“Hey.” Alec said, mouth doing a weird thing that might not be a frown. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to… say it. Or whatever. If it makes you uncomfortable.”

He looked away. “You don’t owe me all your secrets.”

Taylor made a noise. Before she knew it, she was reaching for him, ignoring his own surprise and tugging him– somewhere. She didn’t think that far. Didn’t think at all, reached out on pure instinct, wanting him closer. Just that.

She settled for tugging him down into her lap and playing with his hair while her face burned.

“Okay, I’m captured?” Alec said, bewildered. He shifted until he could curl into her, cheek pressed to her lower belly.

“Hush.” Taylor’s throat clenched up. “Of course you deserve all my secrets.”

“Oh.” Alec turned a little, hiding his eyes. Forehead tucked into her. Was he being shy? Fuck, he was so cute. Taylor already trusted him more than she’d trusted anyone since…

Alec was nothing like Emma. She was scared to touch him, almost like he was delicate. He wasn’t, despite that appearance. His fae-like features were deceiving; this was the same boy that danced through armed thugs and laughed with delight as he made them crash into each other.

“You told me your… stuff.” Taylor said lamely, hardly daring to breathe as she stroked a finger down what was visible of his face.

He pulled back enough to glance up at her with one pale eye.

“I had a nervous breakdown and admitted the Heartbreaker ‘stuff’ in exchange for Panacea powers-plastic surgery, then passed out.” He muttered. “‘S not the same thing.”

“You had a panic attack, not a nervous breakdown.” One of her hands clutched his shoulder, squeezing. The other continued its whisper-soft journey down his neck, playing with the wisps of curls there.

“Eh, same shit.” Alec shrugged as much as he could, which wasn’t a lot.

The sunset painted his features pink, dawn-colors like his hero persona’s namesake. He rarely so much as blushed and yet she associated him with the color, now.

If she closed her eyes he’d be a soft pink to her.

Nothing like Emma’s hateful, acidic green. Her father’s muddled yellow. Amy’s blinding white, Vicky’s bright silver.

“What are you thinking about?” Alec asked slowly, eyes closed. He eased back, face turned towards her and the sun. Hair a dark halo against her lap. Eyelids almost a translucent purple and lashes dusky against his cheeks.

“What color you’d be, if you were a color.”

“Mm. Grey, you think? The whole dead emotion thing. Or red, probably. For all the…”

He waved a hand, indicating the past. Heartbreaker. Mastering. Lust and false-love tied together into laughter and bloodshed.

“No.” Taylor half bent over, palm finding his cheek. Watching him. Her other arm curled around his shoulders in the best kind of hug she could give like this.

“No?”

“No. Shut up.” She felt her expression firm up, stubborn. Alec giggled. It caught her so off guard she could only stare, face going slack.

He looked back, icy-silver eyes watching her calmly, expression kind of dull– except for a very, very faint dusting of pink in his face, that might be a trick of the sunlight.

“What color am I, then?” He looked only mildly interested, expression lax and unconcerned.

“Pink.” She admitted, her own face burning. “A really… soft…”

Alec laughed again.

“Fuck, really?”

“Shut up.” She mumbled, looking away from him.

“Hey,” He snagged her hand, pulling it against his chest. Rubbing small circles against the back of her hand. “C’mon, ma luciole, look at me. Please?”

Looking at him was dangerous. He looked unreal, something ethereal and beautiful that she’d caught. Like trapping a fairy in a ring of salt; she felt she was trespassing to keep him here.

“Please?” Alec whined, letting it go all grainy and irritating. She put her palm over his face, and he snickered into it. He snagged her wrist and pulled it down, cheeks flush with… laughter and happiness.

Taylor could only stare.

“It’s okay.” He said simply. “I don’t know what you’re worrying about up there but I’m sure it’s dumb. No offense. Please don’t drop me over the side of this very tall building.”

“I wouldn’t.” She said, immediately, pulling him closer. He seemed so unbothered about the– now that she was looking at it– precarious position.

“I know.” Alec said, exhale shaky. “I trust you.”

Taylor’s eyes burned a little.

“Why?” She demanded. “I don’t… I don’t tell you everything. I haven’t even brought you home or introduced you to my dad.”

“Well, neither have I, and I hope you never meet that asshole.” Alec joked and Taylor flicked him lightly on the nose. It scrunched up cutely.

“You know what I meant.” She continued. “I don’t even… there’s parts of my power I’ve never told anyone.”

“Trésor, I literally didn’t tell you my power until a few days ago.” He rose an unimpressed eyebrow. “I wasn’t going to tell you. At all.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.” He played with her fingers, absently rubbing them. “But my power is a horror-story, ma luciole. Yours is beautiful. Why are you afraid?”

Her throat was tight.

“Your power isn’t scary.” She said, swallowing as she– touched back. Felt his hands with hers, finger pad sliding against finger pad.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever used it on who wasn’t outright terrified.” He didn’t look bothered by the subject matter, very matter-of-fact. “It’s not a safe and pretty power.”

“Luciole.” She said slowly. “What’s that one mean?”

Alec quirked a brow and a tiny, tiny corner of a smile.

“Firefly.” He said. “Your power is bright and inspiring. So are you.”

“Shut up.” She nudged him again and he was unrepentant. “What if it’s not?”

“Hmm?” He drew a fingertip down her wrist absently.

“My power. You’ve seen the shields, you’ve seen me heal but it’s not… there’s more than that.”

“Six fairies. Six powers?” Alec looked interested but not appalled or upset.

“Three powers.” She counted off, moving their hands together to count. “Hinagiku, Lily, and Baigon form a shield. Shun’ō and Ayame together make my shroud.”

“That’s five fairies. There’s another one, right?”

“Tsubaki.” Taylor confirmed, biting her lip. “He’s the one I haven’t used, yet. I’m…”

“You’re scared.” Alec said, identifying it easily. “To tell me, or to use the power?”

“Both.”

“That’s stupid. The first bit, anyway. Why would you be afraid of me?” His brows furrowed.

“Well… you’re kind of my only friend, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Two of their fingers slid together, index and middle fingers hooked. She exhaled. “What if…”

“Taylor. Are you worried I won’t like you?”

“Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that…” She grumbled, looking away.

“Dieu me préserve…” Alec sighed. “C’mon, we’re a team, yeah? Of course I like you. All I do is like you.”

“What?”

“Seriously, we spend all our time together. You think I’d stick around if I didn’t like it? Being a team doesn’t mean we have to spend all our time together, in ‘civvies’ too.”

“I know we’re… friends.” Taylor said shyly. “I’m not dumb. I just… where does the line get drawn? What makes you finally tired of me?”

“I could throw that bitch in the Bay.”

It was so unexpected Taylor flinched a little, their precarious position slipping an inch or so. Alec pressed tighter to her, instinctual fear of heights grabbing him for just a moment. He relaxed.

“Emma, right? The bitch that made you think like this. I could kill her.”

“I… do not. No murder.”

“If you say so, ma patronne.” He caught her inquisitive look, rolling his eyes. “‘Bosslady.’”

Taylor snorted.

“Somehow I’m less than reassured.” She heaved a sigh. “Fuck, you think she made it hard to trust people? I guess that makes sense. She ruined everything else.”

“Parahumans are all… broken.” Alec said slowly. “She caused your worst day.”

“She didn’t.”

Taylor’s heart beat fast. Alec just waited, watching her. The sun was set now, purples replacing pinks, casting everything in shadow. Strangely, it wasn’t yet dark.

“I never had a trigger event.” The words were hard to say. “Just one day the fairies were there. I thought I was going crazy, at first, and didn’t even realize they were a power. It took almost getting hit by a car for me to manifest the shield for the first time.”

Taylor looked out at the bay.

Alec’s hand reached up, tugging her face back down. His skin was soft on hers, fingers gentle at her jaw.

“Good.”

“What?”

“I said ‘good.’ I’m glad. Triggers are fucked. If you got a power without one, I’m glad. Powers break us. They fuck us, honestly, and rarely leave us better off. They give us what we need to survive a situation but not to live.”

“It feels like a big lie.” Taylor admitted. “Every parahuman but me had to suffer and break for their powers, but mine didn’t break me. It was just… some random Tuesday. What does that say about me? What does that make me?”

“Not broken.” Alec said, after pausing thinking about it. “You’re so bright. The rest of us are all traumatized assholes but you don’t have that shit weighing you down. Maybe that’s how you can smile like you do.”

“Broken in a different way, maybe.” Taylor shivered, twilight sweeping the night cold in. “I think… I can see it. It was miserable at Winslow. A targeted campaign against me, making me… I was going down a dark path. I didn’t want to die, not yet, but I hardly wanted to live. It could have broken me. I think in some ways, it did.”

“Maybe you would have triggered.” Alec shrugged in her lap. “I don’t know. Maybe powers do whatever they want, and yours decided to break the mold.”

“I can’t imagine ‘worse.’” Taylor admitted. “It was already… but yeah, I can see it. They could have driven me to that edge. Easy.”

“I’m glad they didn’t. I’m glad you’re here.” Alec said. “Shit, this is so sappy. You need it, right? Reassurance or whatever?”

He looked away, squirming just a touch. Embarrassed.

“Are you shy?”

“You’re one to talk.” Alec narrowed his eyes at her, then looked away again. “Look, this is about as much ‘feelings’ talk as I can do in a day, okay? Maybe once a week is a hard limit on confessions and facing emotional trauma.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Taylor couldn’t help but smile. “Although, as far as confessions go…”

“If you say you’re in love with me, I’m rolling myself off your lap and falling to my death.” His voice was flat but something nervous danced in blue eyes.

“I’d catch you. Asshole.” She could probably pull up a shield in time. Enough to soften the landing, certainly, and as long as he didn’t die on impact, she could heal him.

“… Would it really be that bad?” Taylor watched him, surprising herself with how little she wanted to look away. “Bad enough that you try to kill yourself?”

The notion made her stomach hurt.

“No.” Alec said, at once. “Shit, sorry. It would just be a ‘cliche’, you know. Confessions and then confessing, like confessing your feelings. As opposed to just, y’know, powers secrets and shit.”

“I like you, too.” Taylor said. “I don’t think it’s romantic love… maybe one day? I’m not…”

“Chill.” Alec swallowed, grabbed her hand. “Hey, c’mon, m’sorry. I know you think I’m cute and all.”

“Kind of hard to miss.” Taylor shrugged. “You’re really… distractingly pretty.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you had a crush on me.” His lashes fluttered. “I’m not that much of an ass. We’re kinda… close.”

“This is embarrassing, you realize? We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” Alec touched her wrist again. “It’s just me. Nobody’s here to judge you, ma acharné.”

“That one’s relentless, right?”

He held her hand, thumb stroking a knuckle.

“Mm.” His eyes were half lidded. “Do you want to kiss me, trésor?”

Taylor blushed nuclear.

“Maybe I’ll throw you into the Bay. Or at least off the roof.” Despite her words she held him tighter, not letting him fall. He did not look afraid.

“Nah. You like me too much.”

Her gut clenched.

“Don’t be a jerk about it.” She said, a little grumbly, which was basically a confession. Oh no.

Alec paused, something almost surprised coming over his expression. He brought a hand up and covered his face.

After a minute he pulled his hand down. She watched him. And now that he’d said something, she paid attention to his mouth. Did she want to kiss him?

She shivered a little.

“You’re right, this is embarrassing to talk about.” Alec said. “How incredibly fucking novel.”

Taylor took a breath. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”

“Taylor.” Alec whined. “Oh my god.”

She snickered. Then she sobered, playing with his hair. He arched into it, as he always did, like a cat being stroked. If he could purr, he would.

“I don’t know what the third power is. I know it’s offensive. An attack.” Taylor said quietly. “From the way he talks, Tsubaki is my power to hurt. And my power is already…”

“Shield that blocks anything. Shroud that heals anything. You’re worried about what your attack power can do?”

“Yeah.” She confessed, and it felt like a weight off her shoulders. Confiding in someone. Trusting them.

Alec watched her, until she continued.

“I worry it’s too dangerous, that it’ll be something I can’t take back. For all I know it could be a massive explosion that kills anyone in a certain area.”

“Parahumans always know how their power works.” Alec said slowly. “But you didn’t trigger normally. And your power is weird.”

“I know.” Taylor sighed. “I just… does it make me a bad person? We’re heroes, right, so I should use every power I have in a fight. What if someone dies because I’m too afraid of my own power?”

Alec snorted.

“God, being a hero. You have no idea how weird that is for me. Forget the physical changes, they’d never look for me as an independent hero, not in a million years.”

“Sucks for them.” Taylor declared shamelessly. “You’re a great hero. On my hero team. We haven’t done much, yet, but we will.”

“Yeah.” Alec said slowly, turning her hand over to trace patterns on her palm. “Fuck it, yeah. We will. Whether or not you use your last power.”

He looked up at her.

“Don’t worry about it, okay? We can talk with the soul-sucking vampires–”

“The nice lawyers that give us money.” Taylor corrected.

“– those paragons of cash and virtue, my mistake. Anyway, we can set up something, maybe in the desert. A way to test your power safely.”

Hm. That was right, they did have resources they couldn’t even dream of before. It still seemed crazy to think about.

“So much has changed in such a short time.” She said, voice breathy as she mused. “It feels…”

“Impossible?” Alec asked, as the last of the sun’s rays slipped over the waves. “Imagine how I feel. Everything was awful and now it’s…”

“Nice?” She tried.

“Sure. Nice.” Alec carefully sat up, Taylor helping him when she realized his intent. He didn’t go far, pressing into her side with his shoulder.

Her arm wound around his waist, keeping him from falling. Her cheeks were pink.

Alec’s head tilted and landed on her shoulder, and she stopped breathing.

“It almost feels like… everything’s going to be okay.” The words were shaky from him, like this of all things was hard to face. Not the powers, not the maybe-crush or their feelings, not his past and their nebulous future.

The hope was hard, and unsure as he said it.

She nudged him back, shoulder bumping his. Held him close.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. It will be.” Taylor took a breath. “And if it’s not, we’ll deal with it together. Sound fair?”

“Yeah.” Alec said. “Sounds fair.”

 

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