Magical Girl Escalation Taylor (Worm/Nanoha)

Bit of a short one this week, but it needed to end where it did.


Civil War 8.9

Wednesday, May 25
You hurry down the hall of the hospital, your fingers clenching and relaxing in turn. Three days. That was how long Benediction said it would take for your dad to recover. That was on Sunday. It's now Wednesday.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. One, two, three.

Lacey told you she and Kurt would see him during the afternoon now that he had been moved around to another room in the neuro-ICU under his real name – more for any visitors who had noticed you and Samantha visiting than for the hospital staff, who can't say anything because of the stack of NDAs that one nurse told you about when you were getting your MRI – but now that school's out you want to see him. You need to look at him with your own eyes and see for yourself that he's okay.

The doors slide open, and you have to hold yourself back from running. Because of the sixteen-foot range of his powers, they had to put him in a corner room where there was a little more space, so he would be—

Lacey looks up from where she is seated in a chair outside your dad's room and jumps to her feet. "Taylor, wait. We need to talk—"

Fear grabs your heart in its icy grip. "What's wrong? Isn't he awake?"

"Well, yes, he's awake, but that's not the issue."

"I don't care! If he's awake, I'm going to see him."

Lacey tries to say something, but you ignore her attempt to stop you and open the door to his room. His bed has been forced to the back of the room, but there he sits on top of it, clad in a hospital gown but awake and alive like you haven't seen him since he ran off to fight Behemoth. He wears a dazed sort of expression, but that's only to be expected. He did just wake up to find that he had lost a week and a half of time.

"Dad!"

He turns to you, his mouth set in a faint frown, and your smile dims a little. You are happy that he is awake again, but for some reason he does not appear quite so pleased. He better not still be angry about you talking to the TSAB, because if his first words after waking up are to scold you again you're going to put him back in a coma yourself.

The two of you stare at each other for almost a solid minute before you repeat, "Dad?"

"I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong room."

What? You don't have anything to say in response to that and instead just stare dumbly at him. "Dad, what are you talking about?" you finally ask.

"I'm talking about the fact that you have me mixed up with someone else," he tells you in a flat voice. No anger, no cruel humor, just dry facts that are the farthest thing from the truth. "I don't know who your father is, but I'm not him. Now, could you please leave? I'm waiting for my family to arrive."

"Dad, it's me. Taylor."

His eye starts twitching, and an angry flush spreads across his face. "Look, kid, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm not in the mood to be screwed around with. I think I'd recognize my own daughter, and you aren't her. Now get out before I have the nurses call security to throw you out."

One staggering step back, then another. You whirl around and all but run out of the room, confusion and sorrow and pain streaming down your face.

He doesn't know who you are. He doesn't know who you are!

"Taylor!" Feet pound behind you, and thick arms grab you and pull you into a tight embrace. You latch onto Lacey and sob into her shoulder while she rubs small circles on your back. "I'm so sorry, honey. I tried to tell you not to go in. You didn't need to hear that."

The tears are a long time stopping, but finally you force yourself to meet her eyes. "What's wrong with him?"

"Whatever that cape did almost worked. Danny's awake, and he understands what's going on, but…"

"But?"

"He swears up and down that the last date he remembers is June first," she whispers. "June of 2005."

2005. Six years ago. You were getting close to your tenth birthday. You and Emma were inseparable just as Zoe and your mom had been at that age. Your mom had still been alive, even. Is that why he doesn't recognize you, because he saw you weren't old enough to be his wife but too old to be your nine-year-old self? "Has anyone told him?"

"Kurt and I both tried talking to him, but he refuses to believe us. He thinks we're playing an elaborate practical joke on him. We'll keep working on it, but until then…"

"Until then, he won't believe that I'm me, and he won't recognize me." You wipe your face with your hand and look again at her still-downcast expression. "What else is wrong?"

"There's still the issue of what to do with him. He's weak, and between the need for rehab and the memory issue, you can't take him back to the apartment. About the only good thing in this whole fiasco is that his powers aren't working so hot either. Kurt's talking to the social worker now, but it sounds like he needs to spend at least a little time in some midlevel care facility." She rubs your shoulder. "Until he gets better, you and Samantha are more than welcome to stay with us."

"I don't… We… Can I think about it?"

Lacey frowns when you pull yourself from her grasp, but she does not say anything about it. She just nods. "Of course. We'll keep the living room light on when we go to bed if you aren't back by then."

You give her hands a gentle squeeze, thanks for being so understanding, and then you turn around and walk out of the ICU.

You can't handle this right now.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx​

«…and that's about the long and short of it.»

Samantha takes a bit to absorb the information you have just given to her before she replies. «So what are you going to do?»

«I don't think I have much of a choice,» you think with a sigh. «Lacey and Kurt have legal custody of me according to Dad's will, not that I really want to kick up a fuss about that. Even with Kurt griping about how the Protectorate and we have worked alongside the gangs to fight MS-13, living with them hasn't been too bad. I just wish…»

«I know. I miss him, too.» You force back the tears that want to spring up anew. «Try not to worry about this right now. Fly around a little to clear your head. All of these decisions we can discuss tomorrow.»

Good advice from your Guardian Beast. Closing the telepathic signal, you drift over the business sector and watch as stores start locking their doors and flipping off their lights. Even in Philadelphia, people have to sleep sometime. This isn't New York City, after all.

With darkness beginning to fill the street and your eyes adjusting to the lessened light, you can just barely make out something moving on the distant rooftops. Vista? Some other allied cape? Or possibly the Maras trying to cause trouble on the worst day they could have possibly chosen to pull this shit. A frown takes over your expression, and you cautiously make your way closer.

The rooftops are empty, and you come to a halt and shake your head. Maybe it was just your imagination, but your gut is still grumbling in suspicion. Something is not right here, but you can't put your finger on it.

Something flickers in the corner of your eye, and you conjure Strong Shield just in time to block the cluster of energy blasts coming at you. Three figures charge out of a stairwell, clearly itching for a fight.


Um. I think I'll just show myself out. This chapter was not a happy one to write.

Who's up for battle plans? This enemy you're going to go against without any hints.
[ ] Aerial barrage
[ ] Close the distance for melee
[ ] Focus on defense
[ ] Run away

Because Taylor is not in a good headspace right now, there is a better than zero chance she (I) will deviate somewhat from any battle plans you vote for. Not terribly, but some of the fine details may be changed.