Chapter Text
𓂀
“Lisa?”
It took a moment for the name to turn my head. My companion was calling me from two rows of makeshift clothes racks away. The blonde brushed a lock of hair out of the way of her blue eyes with one hand as the other raised a dress for my inspection. I wasn’t focusing on the dress yet, though.
Lisa, I reminded myself. That’s right. My name is Lisa.
I’d been Tattletale for so long I’d forgotten my name. I used my civilian name and there, sure, but it—rather than my mask and costume—had been my disguise. For years, my own face was a stranger to me. Not anymore.
A year later it was no less strange that Victoria Dallon, of all people, had been the one to unearth me. Never would I have thought I’d see the day I’d agree to go clothes shopping with Antares out of costume. Instead of a black dysphoria hoodie under plate armor, the mostly-retired superheroine wore pitch black jeans and a soft yellow sweater. It looked cozy, perfectly suited to this chilly spring morning. We’d come a long way since being a runaway teenage bank-robber and an unfortunately-named wunderkind.
And yet.
She dragged me all the way out here for this? I wondered. This thrift shop was her find. Look; the world ended again. I was trying not to be picky. And to be less of a huge bitch in general. But… that dress…
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Victoria simply kept holding up the short dress she had picked out, apparently for me. It was nice, light, and floral-patterned. In all honesty, I thought she had picked that out for herself. The color was too light for my tastes, and it looked just a tad too casual. Not what I was looking for. Somehow, though, I found myself walking closer. To get a better look at the dress. Not to be closer to Victoria, definitely not.
Victoria half-smiled at my words in a way that felt like a challenge. She cast her eyes around the shop to make sure staff and other patrons were out of earshot before speaking in a low tone.
“You want to try and get back into civvy life?” she asked. “First step is finding something you like wearing besides a silk bodysuit under spandex. You already agreed to this, Lisa. You asked me for help. Here I am, helping.”
“Fine,” I replied. “I did agree. And you are helping, I guess, But that doesn’t mean I’ll be wearing something like that!”
“Alright then. What’s wrong with this one?” Victoria asked, voice dry. She wanted to pretend like she was losing patience with me. She wasn’t. She was enjoying our shopping—and our verbal sparring—as much as I was.
I spun away, saying, “Maybe I’d wear it if I were about a hundred years old. I think the 1930’s have gotta be the last time anyone thought, ‘wow; florals, and springtime? What an inspired choice!’ It’s insipid.”
“This is for summer, you ass. It’s a sundress. If you wanted cutting-edge fashion you’d go to Parian. Instead you’re with me, and I thought it would look nice on you.”
I waved her off. She could have the last word this time. Without responding, I left to take a look at another aisle where I’d seen some black cotton turtlenecks moments ago. I ran the tips of my fingers through the rack of clothes until I found them again and pulled them close. They were soft to the touch and the way they stretched told me they’d be form-fitting. Cute, and of a quality that was hard to find these days, but a little too clean-cut for my tastes. What about Victoria’s tastes, though? Would she like this?
“Found something?”
Victoria (suddenly at my side, somehow) tapped my shoulder and I jumped. Just a bit. The nerves of steel I’d developed over a long and storied career of supervillainy didn’t do much for a horny guilty conscience. And I was sure she floated instead of walking sometimes, just to walk without audible footsteps and sneak up on me.
She had already returned the dress back to the rack she took it from. Now free of the dreadful thing, she’d opted to lean over me, looking down at my latest selection. I couldn’t help but look up at her, lips parted in something like shock or anticipation. Victoria must’ve read something in the look on my face, because one inquisitive eyebrow rose.
“It’s very… prep-school chic,” she said, obviously choosing her words with care. “Is there something in particular you’re trying to say with this outfit? I wouldn’t have thought it was very you.”
Before she could see the color as it flushed to my cheeks, I quickly turned away from her to inspect some v-necks.
Did she just totally read me? I wondered, trying to stay calm. No, Lisa. Think about clothes, Lisa.
“I’ll try anything at this point, to be honest. And… these will fit my form, I’m pretty sure,” I said, only telling her half the truth. “I’m more used to that.”
Victoria chuckled. “Right. Skimpy catsuit. Can’t stray too far from the old you too fast or you’ll get nervous?”
I found myself drawn to a dark purple shirt and draped it over my arm as I spoke. We were now, at least, on more stable conversational grounds. Poking at one another was familiar and safe.
“I asked you here to help me out, Glory Hole. Not to make incisive comments about my identity.”
“Yeah, those kinds of comments suck, don’t they?” Victoria said, eyes gleaming, a small grin on her lips. “Good thing we don’t know anyone who’s made them her entire brand. Also, I was helping you out. You didn’t appreciate it. So I guess you’ll just have to figure this out all by yourself. Just try not to take too long thinking, alright? I was gonna head home and catch up on old movies with Ashley tonight.”
“Sorry to pull you away from your super important plans, then..”
I leisurely made my way down the next section where the skirts were. I needed to find something clean, neat, and semi-professional. I knew (thanks to my power) that she was into those preppy, clean-cut kind of guys. She never specified what kind of stuff she liked on women though. Men and women’s fashion was like night and day. Still, it was the best lead I had, so it wouldn’t hurt to try these on. There was that chance she would like me in them.
“You know,” Victoria said, interrupting my train of thought once more. “If you used that head of yours to think about anything besides weaponizing other people’s secrets, maybe you wouldn’t have thought it was a good idea to throw away all your old clothes.”
“I didn’t ‘throw them away’, I didn’t need them anymore. So I donated them to a needy orphan. In other words, Chastity raided my wardrobe; how was I supposed to refuse her? It’s frustrating, but she wears them better than I ever did, and how was I supposed to foresee that I’d return to shop for this shit again?”
“How were you supposed to know you might want to have a civilian identity again? That’s a tough one.”
“Zip it.”
Victoria shook her head. “She’s a sweetheart. Why not ask for some of them back?”
I scoffed, perplexed at how dense this woman was. Getting between a Heartbroken girl and her clothes—the very idea. Besides…
“In case you haven’t noticed, hon, I’m not seventeen anymore. I’ve grown up. Was lucky enough these still just barely fit me.”
Absentmindedly, I checked myself out in one of the full-length mirrors (for sale! 80% discount!) leaning against the peeling paint of the wall. My eyes: still green. Face: freckled, and not currently twisted by a grin, which still felt a bit wrong. My skinny jeans were very tight around my waist. Not to the point of choking off blood flow or causing cramps, but enough that it was a constant nuisance. My shirt, though, barely made it over my head this morning. The next time I took it off, it’d almost certainly create a tear in the flannel. Which is why I agreed to this in the first place. Well, maybe not first place, but close. The only thing that wasn’t tight was Victoria’s black leather jacket she lent me for today. If anything, it was probably too big for me. No, it was definitely too big for me, because she was a six-foot-two (but who’s counting?) freak of nature with big clothes to match. Whatever. It was cozy and warm and I liked it.
I caught her eye in the mirror. She looked less than impressed with me.
“Quit admiring your own reflection,” Victoria said. “You can do that at home for free. Just choose whatever you think is nice and try it on.”
“Oh, now you’re letting me do what I want? How sweet of you, honey bear.”
“I will leave you behind.”
She wouldn’t. I rolled my eyes theatrically to humor her anyway. “Ugh, fiiiiiiine. Whatever you say.”
It took another half hour and some more arguing with Victoria before I finally made my way to the dressing room. It was a relief to finally take my jeans off after so long. My legs could finally breathe again. My shirt was next. As I disrobed, I felt the tear before I heard it. Just as I suspected. Good thing I already had shirts in my size ready for me to try them on.
I tried the dark purple v-neck first. The relief I felt as I slipped it on was immeasurable. It was like trying on a glove. The shirt was breathable, cool, and fit perfectly over my body. At once I knew I was going to keep this one. Even if wearing plainclothes clothes in the same color as one’s costume was utterly banal.
Next came the skirt. I had chosen a black and yellow plaid skirt that stopped just short of my knees. It was skinny but had plenty of room for my legs to move around. The feel of the soft cotton against my skin was comforting in a way I hadn’t really felt in a long while. I could only hope I looked as good in it as I felt.
Before long, I walked out of the dressing room in my new clothes. Victoria was leaning back against the wall, arms crossed. She must’ve been like that for the entire time I was inside. Once I made myself known, she perked up and instead turned so her shoulder was propped up. This was my chance. For the first time since entering the store, I allowed my power to flow free.
Intrigued; wait is over, boredom relieved, curious about Tattletale-self’s choice in clothing.
Enticed; has not seen Tattletale-self’s legs before, has not seen Tattletale-self in a skirt, likes Tattletale-self’s new clothes.
Happy; slight curve at the corner of her mouth, eyes marginally widened, suppressing urge to grin.
Instead of saying any of that, Victoria sighed with feigned frustration. “It’s passable. You look like a civilian.”
“Right, and that’s all you got?”
“I don’t know, Lisa, are you happy with it? I left my superpowered intuition at home today, so you’ll actually have to tell me whether or not you like how it looks on you. I won’t wait here for hours for you to decide.”
“Jeez Louise, fine. Whatever you say, boss.”
Victoria gave me a half-perplexed glare. “Just hurry up and try on the others.”
I gave my skirt a nice twirl, to her insincere annoyance, and returned back to the dressing room.
Whatever Victoria said, the truth was undeniable. She liked my clothes. She liked them, and she liked how I looked in them. Hidden behind the curtain, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. My plan was working. Before this I didn’t know if she was truly into me. Had I gotten close with someone only for them to turn out to be totally not into me? Surely she must have picked up on what was going on, right? In any case, my power told me everything I needed it to. She liked me and she liked the clothes I picked. It gave me the confidence to try on the other things I picked out.
Despite all the nerves and the curious sensation in my stomach like it was doing somersaults, I was having a lovely time. I was glad to be here with a girl I liked and who—at least in some way—liked me back. Just a girl and a girl on a date… even if I’d neglected to call it a date when I’d asked her out. Details, details. It had been hard to work up the courage to be ordinary again. It had been harder to ask Victoria for help or to stand at my side. It was still hard, every single moment, but I relished the chance to solve small problems and live my life how I wanted to at last. Maybe life could get better. Maybe things could be easy.
Maybe I could be happy someday.
I had selected five different outfit combinations to wear; nice turtlenecks, v-neck sweaters, button down flannels, skirts of varying fashion. There was even a pair of cheap designer pants I put on, but I knew even before I left the room that I had misjudged and overly dressed. Victoria pursed her lips and told me she thought I’d made a brave choice, which could only have been more cutting if she’d actually cut me as she said it. I fled back to the changing room and ditched the pants as fast as possible.
In using my power, I’d found that Victoria seemed to prefer me in skirts rather than pants, and their length didn’t seem to matter. As for tops, button-downs didn’t catch her eye as much as I’d hoped. Whatever her usual tastes, it seemed that the more of my figure she could see, the better. Perhaps she was simply used to seeing me in costume for so long that familiarity was the way to go. I still wanted to experiment, though. I’d been good at putting outfits together once. I was sure I could learn to do it again.
The final outfit I donned was a little different from the rest; a crimson blouse with a thin bow at the collar. In contrast to the others, it was light and loose: not the least bit form-fitting, but not comically baggy either. Perfect for what I wanted to try. Over that was a fine black sweater with a neckline deep enough that the bow could peek out unhindered. Though the sweater was not as loose as the blouse, it wasn’t constricting either. I felt soft, snug, and cozy.
I pulled on the white thigh-highs Victoria had been kind enough to pick out as fast and carefully as possible. They’d keep my legs warm, even if they’d be unseasonably hot by the onset of summertime. Then I put on the skirt. It fell past my knees, a combination of black and red plaid made of cotton that complemented the black and red of my sweater and blouse. Perhaps I’d walk out the store in this when all was done. It’d been a cool and rainy spring so far, but this would be enough to keep me warm.
Victoria could also keep me warm—
No. Not finishing that thought. I fixed the collars of the blouse, pulling them through the sweater, then left the changing room once more.
Victoria’s response was far more immediate and intense, but I wasn’t even bothering to figure it out for myself. I didn’t have a headache for once—I was using my power less these days—so I was free to let it loose this time.
Delighted; eyes focused on Tattletale-self, thoroughly examining clothes and how they fit, finds them attractive. Approves of Tattletale-self’s fashion sense, considers fashion sense an attractive trait.
Uncertain; reluctant to say anything, uncertain of what to say.
Anxious; blushing, fidgeting, maintaining neutral expression requires deliberate effort.
Causal link between arousal and attraction to Tattletale-self not established.
I’d won. I felt a surge of intense satisfaction course through me: she thought I was pretty. She thought I was so pretty that it shut her up for at least a few seconds, which I knew by now was an impressive feat.
You fucking dunce, I thought. What will it take for you to finally understand?
After a few short seconds, Victoria cleared her throat and said “Looks good on you.”
I gave her my signature grin to hide my mounting frustration with her. “Of course it does! Never had any doubts!”
Victoria simply shook her head. “Is that it? Dozens of outfits you hate, one you clearly like, and suddenly you’ve never had any doubts. If you’re this confident in your own tastes, why bring me along?”
Now you’re getting all up in arms huh? Imagine how I feel openly advertising myself to your dumb ass.
I stepped closer to her until I was unarguably within her personal space. Close enough for her to reach out and rest her hands around my waist. If she wanted to. Instead she looked down at me, one eyebrow slightly raised. She was holding her breath, I could tell. Oh—so was I.
I exhaled with a little huff as I spoke. “I bet you could figure it out if you tried, Victoria Dallon.”
For a moment neither of us spoke. Or breathed. Or did anything at all. The tension I’d deliberately created was suddenly too much for me, I had to disengage before I said or did something that was finally too much and she told me to get lost at last or—
Victoria poked me hard right in the center of the forehead. “Because you enjoy antagonizing me, and you’ve finally found a way to do so that’s completely guilt-free. I guess that’s growth.”
She was smiling, halfway to a laugh, and I laughed too. The tension broke. Not the way I’d hoped, but not in a bad way either.
“Yup, you’ve seen right through me,” I lied. “We can leave now, you can go home with your girlfriend and be rid of me at last.”
Victoria gave me a look. Not irritated, ashamed or annoyed: just a look. “Ashley’s not my girlfriend.”
“Yeah, details, details. Tell me with a straight face you will not be going home and fucking her brains out on the couch after this.”
“She’s just my roommate, though,” Victoria muttered. Which wasn’t a no. For the first time today, I saw Victoria’s composure fully crack. Just for a moment, flashes of guilt and excitement dueled across her face.
Can’t hide from me, Glory Hole. I kept the thought to myself. I had no intention of prodding her more than I already had. I’d probably already taken things too far. Again. Whoops.
I left her alone for once and stepped back into the changing room for long enough to gather up everything I’d chosen to keep. My old clothes stayed behind along with the other rejects, like those stupid designer pants. They were trash at this point; no need to carry them back with me. Once I had everything worth buying in my bag besides what I was wearing, I left the changing room and returned to Victoria’s side. I gave back her leather jacket and she helped me take the tags off my current outfit so that I could hand them to the register and pay without having to waste more time changing. All told, this little shopping excursion would last about three hours from door to door. Not too bad, considering I hadn’t gone shopping like this in almost five years.
In spite of her outward frustration, Victoria enjoyed herself as well. I was glad she’d come; not just because I needed help shopping, but her expertise in this field hadn’t hurt either. She was good at pushing me forward, and I needed that sometimes. Any time I got stuck or needed help making hard choices I could count on her to steer me right. Even though she had boneheaded ideas of her own here and there—like that sundress—she’d helped me a lot more than I wanted to admit. I was truly thankful for her.
Maybe I should try telling her that, someday.
Right now, though, I wasn’t finished being frustrated with her. She had to have known what this was when she made that off-hand remark about ‘what the outfit was supposed to accomplish’. I mean, I made it so clear that she’d have to be completely blind to not get it. What was wrong with her? I knew she was into me, so what exactly was I missing here? How the fuck did normal people navigate the emotional hellscape of normal romantic attraction?
I pushed the thoughts aside as we made our way towards check-out. Victoria led the way by several strides but stopped briefly to take two Cokes from a nearby vending machine. Wordlessly, she passed me one once I’d caught up. I hadn’t even noticed until the solution was in my hands, but I’d gotten a bit parched in the course of stalking the thrift store, a big place that’d been set up in what was once a community center but had been converted. Check-out was fast despite the line. All together I ended up paying for about a hundred New Dollars worth of clothes. Given the quality of what I’d picked out, I felt like I’d made out like a robber. Victoria tried very hard to pretend she didn’t find the joke funny when I shared it with her as we walked away from the register and away from the store.
We finished and made our way outside the shop. My new clothes were very comfortable in the cool springtime air. Walking was easier now that I didn’t have to worry about how much my shirt or jeans were constricting me. On unspoken agreement, we detoured away from our next planned destination—my home—and walked together through town. There was a simple yet undeniable pleasure in just walking and taking in the city. It still amazed me at how much progress was made in such a short time after (and I still couldn’t believe we were calling it this) the Titanomachy. Humanity, for all our many flaws, were persistent little fuckers.
Before long we made our way to the city park. It was a nice open space that had very few people around: a perfect place for Victoria to take off from and fly us the rest of the way back. She preferred to do so in sparsely-populated settings so as not to panic nearby civilians, especially when out of costume. We were strolling together, almost-but-not-quite arm in arm, when a stranger barred our path.
A tall young woman had been walking towards us from the opposite direction but froze at the sight of us. She might’ve been our age, maybe a bit older, but it was hard to tell anything from this distance except that she wore blue jeans and a black tank top and was as thin and sharp as a blade. She’d moved to intercept with an easy confidence in every step that told me she was used to thinking of her body as a weapon. As well she might; lean muscle stood out on her bare arms, now crossed just below her modest chest. Raven-black hair framed her face and tumbled down past her shoulders. All I could see of her expression was a narrow smile. Her eyes were obscured by a pair of mirrored yellow aviators, but I could tell they were fixed on me.
For a moment my only response was to be annoyed that someone was interrupting my lovely day out. But I couldn’t quite make myself turn around and walk away. Something about this woman was hauntingly familiar.
When the realization hit, the world dissolved away before me. Everything became crystal clear but I couldn’t focus on anything. Time slowed down, the noises of the city faded, and soon nothing mattered but the person before me and the absurd, impossible idea I had about who she might have been.
Taylor?
No. No way. It couldn’t be her. I’d watched her entire being disintegrate before my eyes, her personality burned out of her by her shard to free up storage space. So, even if her body was still walking around, animated by some cruel power, there would be nothing of my best friend in there. Was this just an illusion, a Stranger fucking with my head? Was this an attack? Was this my traumatized brain fucking with me in a new and unusual way? The woman bore a resemblance to Taylor but that didn’t matter because Taylor was dead. She died during Gold Morning. I’d finally accepted that.
No, this is delusion, I told myself. I’ve gone insane. I’ve absolutely lost my marbles. Maybe the only surprise is that it took me this long.
“Lisa.”
One word was enough to shatter my fragile resolve, because it sounded like her. The way her voice spoke my name was just as I remembered; it had the same timbre of confidence she’d once projected as Skitter, in our time ruling (barely surviving) Brockton Bay. How could this be reproduced with a power? Just what kind of cape were they that read my thoughts and projected themselves as my dead friend—?
A hand landed on my shoulder. My fight-or-flight instincts kicked in and I jumped, nearly spinning to confront another assailant, before realizing it was only Antares reassuring me. And it was Antares, not Victoria anymore—her face was set in hard lines of determination that told me she’d left her civilian persona behind.
Was I so visibly tense that I looked like I needed comforting? Whatever, I could figure this out just as I did everything else. I let my power flow unhindered.
Taylor Hebert: body never found, presumed dead. Was dead.
Administrator shard too powerful/dangerous to be ignored by major players: Teacher, Contessa, Simurgh. Was sheltered/shielded by other powerful parahumans.
Flexing, edge of left trapezius visible, black ink visible on skin. Likely angel-wing design.
Eyes hidden behind sunglasses, golden pigmentation in eyes: mutation. Hidden for convenience rather than self-consciousness.
Mutations and wing motifs characteristic of members of the Flock: see Brian Laborn, Sarah Pelham—
I stopped the flow of information. It was clear now what was going on. Goddammit Valkyrie. Another member of your fucking Flock.
“T-Taylor?” I barely breathed out.
Antares looked to me then back at Taylor, whose head was cocked a bit to the side as she studied us.
“That’s right, Lisa,” Taylor—my best friend in the world, Taylor—said. Every single word sounded like her, and every one made my blood run cold. “It’s me. I’m sorry I’ve taken so long.”
She even sounds sorry, I thought, numb. Just how she always did before. Sorry, but not in a way that matters.
I watched as Taylor, fucking Taylor Hebert, folded up her sunglasses and tucked one of its temples into the top of her tank top, wearing the two lenses like a reflective badge. There was nothing now between me and her intense golden irises except a few feet of air.
Taylor stepped forward, and I stepped back on instinct. That left Antares, who hadn’t budged, standing between us. This fact, at last, was the thing that forced my old teammate and partner in crime to acknowledge my new companion’s existence. The focus of her golden eyes shifted.
“Victoria Dallon. Good to see you walking and talking again,” Taylor said. “I need to speak to my friend in private. You can go.”
Taylor took another step forward, and Antares turned to face me, hand lifting off my shoulder like an anchor being cut.
“Should I—” she started, suddenly uncertain.
Before she could drift any further away, I seized her hand with two of mine. Something I’d wanted to do for months and had never found the courage. I clenched her hand tight and, after a terrifying moment, she gave me a reassuring squeeze.
“No need, hon,” I said, desperate to project assurance I didn’t feel. “You know, I’m glad you two’ve already met. We can skip past the introductions.”
It felt so wrong. It’d been three and a half years. I had only just managed to find someone new I could call my friend after all these years, even if I didn’t deserve her. Because of Antares’s inexplicable patience with me I finally felt like I could see a future that included Lisa Wilbourn, a girl who’d never had the chance to exist before. Now, after all that effort, everything I’d built for myself felt like it was crashing down around me. The only thing I could see reflected in the lenses of Taylor’s glasses and in her eyes was the supervillainess Tattletale.
At any other time in the last three years this would’ve been everything I could have ever wanted. To have another chance to hold Taylor in my arms? For us to get to know each other when the world wasn’t ending for once? To have my beloved at my side and to rule Brockton Bay together, two young warlords at the top of the world? I’d dreamed of this. In cold beds, alone and unloved and unwanted, sometimes I’d be blessed with a dream of the two of us together forever.
And now…
Now I held onto Antares’s hand for dear life, terrified of my old partner and the idea that my new hero might leave me when I needed her.
“Met?” Taylor chuckled. It was a dark sound without much humor in it. “If you mean firing a gun at her, at your instruction, then sure. We’ve met. You know, Lisa, considering the nature of that, ah, meeting, I’d say you two make strange bedfellows. I’d love to hear the story behind that. Maybe you’d care to tell me?”
I—what? I thought, head spinning, trying to untangle what she could’ve possibly fucking meant by that, reaching for my power and:
Merely a turn of phrase, cannot imagine that Tattletale-self and Antares are friends/close/intimate.
I breathed a thin sigh of relief. She’d just said it apropos of nothing, she wasn’t implying anything.
Taylor took another step forward, her stride confident, deliberate. This was the mask she donned as the warlord Skitter, yet she rarely ever wore it when in her civilian identity. Something about the way she carried herself now seemed less of a projection and more... earnest.
Antares stepped more fully into Taylor’s way, not letting go of my hand. Dimly, I registered that she was within the sixteen-foot-or-so radius she’d briefly had as a human master, as Khepri, on Gold Morning. Yet Antares seemed none the worse for wear.
“Taylor,” I began, “you have some explaining to do before you ask about us—”
Antares interrupted me. “What are you implying, Skitter? We’re here, as civilians, living our lives. None of this is happening out of some desire to inconvenience you, considering no one knew you were back.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s all just boring girly girl stuff,” I said, desperate to move this along before a fight started. To keep things sane. Even if I wished I knew how to stand up for Antares like she was standing up for me. I didn’t like the tone Taylor took with her at all. “Like you and I used to do back in the day?”
There was a glint of recognition in her eyes. I saw it, just for a second; there was a hint of the girl I remembered, largely buried. My power came to me, unbidden.
Shards remember hosts as befits the shards’ particular agenda: common focal points remain drive to conflict, love and aggression/kiss and kill instincts.
Not Taylor Hebert as she was prior to Gold Morning: Taylor Hebert as the Administrator shard remembers her, similar to the cases of Ashley Stillons and other Slaughterhouse clones, members of Flock such as Brian Laborn. Copies of copies.
Original personality and memories retained, warped, sorted, emphasized, de-emphasized based on what data Administrator saw as most crucial and/or relevant.
I felt the dull ache arrive in the back of my head like an old friend. It was worth it, no matter how badly it hurt, just to be sure of what I’d suspected. This wasn’t the girl I’d loved. Not exactly. But Taylor was strong. She’d been strong all the way up until the end on Gold Morning. Maybe she had a chance.
As if she’d heard my thoughts, Antares echoed the sentiment.
“Everyone deserves their second chance. Even you. But,” Antares stressed, “those second chances are contingent upon not being the biggest asshole in the universe. You can say your piece, Taylor Hebert, since we’re going by full names. What comes next is up to you.”
Taylor paused. There was a peculiar distance to the way she looked at me that reminded me of the time we’d shared long ago. She didn’t always use her eyes to see.
I froze. If this was Taylor, in any way, especially a Taylor that had retained every combat instinct and little power trick we’d trained together over the years—
Right wrist, beneath sleeve. Waist, behind left kidney. Nape of neck, hidden by hair.
With the fastest and most subtle motions I could manage, I struck out thrice in quick succession. One hand stayed in Antares’s grasp, and the other shot between the targets my power offered before anyone could even be surprised. I grabbed her wrist and squeezed, struck with my palm against her back, and passed gently over her neck. Antares looked back, nonplussed, until she saw what I’d retrieved from her skin, crushed between a thumb and forefinger. Then she saw the distinctive markings of a black widow spider on the arachnid in my hand, and her countenance transformed, all hard lines as if she’d been chiseled from marble.
That was bad, but the look on Taylor’s face was worse. She almost broke me with two words.
“Betraying me?” she asked, voice soft enough that I could hear the hurt she’d always tried to hide.
“No one’s betraying anyone, because no one’s fighting anyone,” Antares started. “Can we all just—”
I interrupted her. Her instinct to de-escalate was admirable but I had to strike back myself or else I’d break down.
“Um. Taylor? If it is you, hi. I’ve missed you, hon. But… I need to Master-Stranger you. Just in case. You understand, right?”
“Do what you have to do.”
“Can you tell me the first things I said to you on Gold Morning? After she broke you?”
“I broke myself. It was the only way we could win. But, um. You told me that I’d never learned to ask for help. You told me I used others to carry out my own decisions. And…” There was a brief flash of real pain across her face, mixed with a sickening hope. “You told me you loved me. That’s why I’m here, Lisa. Because I never had the chance to say I loved you too.”
I screwed my eyes shut tight. “You’re forgetting something pretty important there, kiddo. Last thing I said but certainly not least.”
“No, I—I remember. You also said…” Taylor began, then heaved out a sigh. She looked open, vulnerable, in pain for the first time since I’d seen her again. I hated myself for doing that to her and hated her, just a bit, for making it necessary. She kept one golden eye trained on Antares, and I wondered for a moment if she was more afraid of getting attacked by her or getting insulted. “You said you could finally understand what I’d put my dad through. Is that enough for you, Lisa?”
“Yeah. Okay. It’s you, mostly. Hey… before I say anything else, I need you to know I still love you. I always will, no matter what. But you can’t—you just can’t, Taylor. I look at you and I know you want me to be the girl I was when I was seventeen. That’s not me anymore. You died, and the world moved on without you. And so did I, even though it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Moving on sounds nice,” Taylor murmured. If I hadn’t been hanging on her every word I probably wouldn’t have heard her at all. “Shame I’ve never been given that chance.”
Antares cut in. “Like I said, you’ll have one. I think it’d be best if everyone steps back and cools off a bit before anyone says or does something they regret. You’re making her—”
“You know, Victoria, I’m glad I saved your life all those times. That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you get in my way. Lisa is important to me; you aren’t.”
“You’re being rude, hon. Didn’t your mom teach you manners? Or was that not one of the things your shard decided to remember?”
“I…” Taylor began to speak, looking for words. She hesitated. I could see in her eyes that she’d realized at last that she’d failed. Whatever she thought would happen when she found me at last, it hadn’t happened. My heart broke for her but there was nothing I could do besides what I was already doing. “Okay. I should go.”
I didn’t have it in me to respond. Antares saved me, once again.
“I think maybe that’d be best,” she said, her voice remarkably gentle, all things considered. Though gentle, she stood as implacable as ever. She could stare down one of the most powerful parahumans in the world and be utterly without fear. I thanked my lucky stars that she was one of the few capes whose first instinct was to de-escalate. If there was ever a pair of capes that could create all the carnage in the world, it was these two, and I didn’t want that to happen anywhere within at least a mile of any innocents.
When we were alone again at last, Victoria turned to me, about to speak. Then she froze.
I couldn’t even tell why. I was numb to everything around me. A strand of hair fell across my eyes, almost blinding me, but I could barely see anyway. Gray spots began to swim across my vision, and I felt too hot and icy cold all at once.
“Oh,” Victoria breathed. “Oh, Lisa. I’m so sorry. Come here.”
My one-time nemesis pulled me into a tight embrace. It was all I’d wanted for at least a year, the chance to feel safe in her arms. I didn’t feel safe now. I barely felt anything at all as she clutched tight around my waist and the back of my neck except agony and a deep, deep sadness. I could hardly breathe, hardly think, except to mourn the loss of a normal future I’d been stupid enough to hope for.
I don’t know how long I stood there, barely registering what must’ve been Victoria’s voice and attempts to comfort me. All I could do was press my face into her shoulder and tried to hide in that darkness from the world.