Brightness 4.6
The steam from the shower, still heavy and thick in the air, was slowly condensing on the glass, misting over the clear surface and fogging the reflections. The fine coat of mist became beads of water which steadily grew, reflecting and refracting the light from the single bulb overhead.
I kept my eyes on one in particular, watching as it built and built until its weight was too much to resist, dragging it down. The journey was glacial at first but rapidly picked up speed; the drop pulled other smaller dewdrops with it, leaving a slick trail carved through the mist on the mirror until it finally ran out of room. It teetered there, clinging to the edge of the glass for a moment, before falling down into the sink with a plink.
I stared at where it had burst apart for a moment, then looked back up from the porcelain to the fragment of mirror still hanging onto the frame. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. Unfocused. My vision blurred until I could only see the fuzzy outline of my body through the cracks.
This close, through all the shards of glass, the girl staring back at me looked like a stranger wearing my skin. Jagged. Sharp. If not for the shock of bright yellow hair, the flash of blue in the eyeline, I might not have recognized her at all.
God, what was I doing? Why was this all so complicated? How did I get here? I didn't think I'd done anything wrong. I'd had reasons for everything I'd done; looking back I couldn't pick out anything since Skitter had rescued me that felt like a mistake, or that I wouldn't do again.
And yet, all those earnest choices had led me to a situation rife with problems that I had never imagined encountering and wanted no part in. I'd never signed up to face off with Heroes or flee from Dragon! I hadn't wanted to be party to a team of Villains ruling half the city, or complicit in their crimes! Why couldn't I just go home?
My teeth dug into my lip. I knew why. I couldn't forget.
Ever.
A shaky breath in. Skitter – no, Taylor; I couldn't think of her as Skitter right now, not after that. Taylor had left the room a few minutes ago after flying a change of clothes in for me via hornet express. At any other time the image alone would have me smiling. As it was, I couldn't even get the edges of my mouth to twitch.
Nothing about this situation was funny. Or easy. And there was no one I could ask for advice, nobody I'd known... before. Even if I dared reach out, I kept wondering what they'd say. What they'd think of my being here.
My fists clenched. My thoughts were running in circles. Again. I wasn't ready to deal with the… everything that my meltdown had dredged up. Or what I'd asked of Taylor. But I could focus on the surrounding details.
Like how I'd fucked up. Because I had. With the benefit of hindsight, I could see my mistake. Maybe it was a mistake I'd needed to make, but that didn't absolve me of it. I'd pushed Taylor too far, too fast. Implied intent behind her actions that might not have been there. That wasn't the same as condoning them, but I also had to admit I was the outsider here. Hadn't I just admitted how easy it was to get wrapped up in a situation entirely outside of my control? If Taylor had given me the benefit of the doubt again and again for this long, I owed at least that much to her.
My eyes caught on the fractured mirror again. It was barely holding together. In retrospect I was surprised that I hadn't put a hole through the wall. Which… was entirely unacceptable. My powers might be more unstable now, yes. And frankly, I could admit I probably was too. But that was the very first thing I'd been taught as part of New Wave: that our actions as capes were bigger than ourselves. Being a Hero didn't just mean having powers; it was an ideal and a vision for how they should be used.
I'd betrayed those ideals today. I'd fallen short.
I'd missed it in the moment, but looking back, Taylor hadn't been subtle about getting Charlotte and the kids away from me when I'd freaked out. I didn't know exactly what had happened, and I was still too raw to poke through the memories to piece it together myself. But I knew my aura had gone off again, at the bare minimum. We–I–had to acknowledge that.
My fingers curled around the soft cuffs of my hoodie, clean again, smelling faintly of detergent and fabric conditioner. Taylor had sourced more clothes than the initial ones she'd presented to me that first night, but this had stuck with me. Something about it, the fact that it was the first thing I'd worn at the time maybe? Meant it felt different. Safe. I needed that right now.
I looked at the mirror one last time, cracks and all. This was me, who I was, right now. I had to own up to it. For better or worse.
I turned, and pushed the door open.
"Find everything you need?" Taylor asked as I stepped back out into her room. She was standing near the bookshelf with her back to me – reorganizing, maybe? She was wearing a tank top and loose sweats, a marked improvement over the… previous situation.
I snorted. "Hard not to. Besides, you'd know if I didn't."
She paused, and I ran the previous sentence back in my head. Fuck. I hadn't meant to accuse her of–
"I hope you'd know by now that I'm not going to spy on you like that, Victoria," she said, confirming my thoughts. Was that a flicker of hurt in her tone? Or disappointment? Goddammit, I'd made a mistake already and the conversation hadn't even started!
"No, not like that!" I signed emphatically. "Just that if I had problems, you'd know. You'd hear from outside. I could knock. I know you'd hear."
Her shoulders slumped infinitesimally, and I resisted the urge to sigh. Talking to this girl felt like a minefield at the best of times, never mind now.
Seemingly mollified by my apology, she slid the book she was holding back into an empty spot on the upper shelf. I took a moment to consider her. Stalling for time, maybe. But there was also something… different about her.
I'd never seen Taylor in any clothing other than her signature silk, chitin, and kevlar armor. It made for an imposing figure, and by this point the entire city knew as much. But while I had been closer than most, and knew her proportions by this point, it was still strange to see her in casual clothes.
Her hair, black and shiny from the water, fell down her back in wet, unruly curls. It contrasted sharply with the white of her tank top, damp down the back from where her hair was dripping, slightly riding up as she strained to reach the top shelf. Taylor was a tall girl, taller than me, but even she couldn't reach everything.
The sweats she was wearing gave her a… softer appearance. Literally, since sweatpants were objectively the most comfortable form of clothing ever invented. But it was also the first time I'd seen her in anything that didn't look battle ready. She looked like any other girl. I could suddenly imagine meeting her in Arcadia, or passing by on the Boardwalk, or any other situation that wasn't the nightmare we were living through – and it said something that the idea of going to school or window-shopping at the Boardwalk like I had just a couple of months ago felt more foreign and unbelievable a concept than meeting Skitter there out of costume.
What would those two strangers think of each other? I couldn't help but wonder. The Taylor swallowed by Skitter's mask and the Victoria who wasn't broken – would they find anything in common? Any reason to talk, to share anything more than basic pleasantries before going on their separate ways? Two ships passing in the night? I couldn't help but feel a pang of loss at the thought, though exactly why I couldn't say. Much as Taylor had helped piece together the ruin of me that Amy left behind, I couldn't say it was worth it to meet her. That any of it was.
I bit my lip. That was the problem, wasn't it? That we had to meet this way at all. It wasn't fair, any of it. That we needed to go through this. Taylor's whole mess with Defiant and Coil, mine with Amy and Carol. None of it was necessary. Was it just circumstance? Bad luck? My gut twisted unpleasantly at the thought, the idea that acts of such horrific and intimate cruelty could be nothing more than accidents. Pointless punchlines to empty cosmic jokes.
"Tori?"
I blinked. I must have gotten lost in thought. Taylor had finished putting away her book, and was staring at me–wearing glasses? Had she needed glasses the entire time I'd known her? How had I never noticed?
"Glasses." I signed, almost unconsciously.
"Ah," Taylor said, reaching up to touch the square frames briefly. "Yeah."
We stood there for a moment.
"I didn't know you needed them," I signed eventually.
Taylor snorted. "Yeah, well, it'd be a bit of a deficiency in combat if I had lenses that could fall out of alignment, or contacts that could slip out."
"Then how?"
She jerked her head at the mask sitting on the table nearby. "I sourced duplicate lenses, and glued them into the housing of the goggles. Easier."
I stared at the mask with newfound appreciation. I had thought about it briefly, what felt like years ago now, but Skitter's costume looked professionally made, despite her having worn it since her debut. No one outside of established second gen triggers or the Wards had that kind of funding. That meant she did the work herself.
That was already more than most Independents did. But to go the extra mile and account for her own quality of life in the design? To not just accept the handicap and rationalize she wasn't going to be doing much reading with her mask on, but instead lean into it and integrate her glasses without compromising her protection? I knew I might not have come up with that after so much effort already spent on the rest. Especially not this early into my career.
"That's impressive. Wouldn't have known from looking."
A hint of red dusted her cheeks. "That's the point." She looked away from the mask and back to me. "Anyway, you wanted to say something? You were staring at me for an awfully long time."
I started to sign, and then paused mid motion. How would I even articulate what I wanted to say? It wasn't that I was hesitant to admit fault. I was squarely, if not in the wrong, then at least the place where I needed to acknowledge what I'd done to move forward.
No, the problem was that I was trying to dive into what was at best a sensitive topic with a cape who'd taken me in without question, and I had no idea where to start.
"Tori?" Taylor asked, taking a step closer.
I steeled myself. Nothing for it then, just start with the simple stuff. "I'm sorry."
Taylor tilted her head. "Why?"
"For…" I took a moment to swallow. My mouth was dry. "For losing control like that. In front of Charlotte and the kids."
She considered me for a moment. "You did do that," she eventually allowed, "and we do need to talk about it. The kids were scared."
My nails dug into my palm, but I kept quiet and took the scolding. Fair was fair. I'd fucked up and now I needed to hear this.
"But," Taylor said, "you were faced with… that… with no warning. We didn't plan for it. So long as it doesn't happen again… that's fine."
The breath left me in a rush. That… that was it? That was far less than I'd expected. I'd seen Skitter snap at her people when she'd been agitated, seen her... if not berate them, then at least address them when they'd screwed up. Charlotte in the midst of the Dragon incident came to mind. The tone she took with them was chilled at best. This... was not that. It wasn't quite warm, but it was a hell of a lot softer than I deserved.
Well. Fine. Fine, I could work with that. I was on the same page with her there. The last thing I wanted to do was to frighten a bunch of kids who were by outward appearance alone barely in the first stages of recovery.
"Agreed. Thank you for helping me in the aftermath." I looked away as I signed. I couldn't meet her eyes.
A slow sigh. "You're welcome. Someone had to. I'm glad you made it through."
That pulled a soft smile out of me. "Are you sure it wasn't too much? I know I was… asking a lot of you without much warning. Or discussion beforehand. And that sounds manipulative even to me–"
"Tori." She cut me off. "Did you intend to have that panic attack?"
I hesitated, feeling my stomach drop like the floor had fallen out from under my feet. I wanted to object, to argue how I should have had better control, should have kept my aura leashed even when I was emotionally volatile–
I shook my head.
"Would you have been able to calm yourself down on your own?"
Metal washed over my tongue. I felt the memory of spiderwebs parting between my shoulders, the couch turning into kindling between my fingers.
I shook my head.
"Did you need my help?"
Prickling in my eyes forced me to blink away a sudden wetness. I remembered the breathlessness. The terror. The way the world had spun, rootless and anchorless, alone in a dark pit of fear and filth and family-turned-foe.
I nodded.
"Then I don't see the issue."
I jerked up, my eyes snapping open to stare at her. My vision was blurry, but Taylor wasn't standing any closer. Her arms were slack by her sides. The walls rustled. Her lips were quirked up to one side in an awkward half-smile.
Was it really that easy?
"Are–Are you sure?"
She nodded. "You had a problem. I helped fix it."
I sniffled. Taylor had the grace to pretend not to notice as I discreetly brushed the tears out of my eyes. I had done more than enough crying for one day.
"Thank you. I appreciate it. That does just leave one thing."
She pursed her lips, but nodded at me to go ahead.
"I wasn't fair to you in our conversation before that moment on the radio."
She cocked her head. "This one you'll have to explain to me."
How to find the words… "The questions I asked. Do you remember?"
Her lips thinned. I was afraid of that. "Yes, I remember. If you want to revisit–"
I frantically shook my head. "No, it's not about that. I was trying to help you there. But I think I gave off the wrong impression."
"The wrong impression?"
I nodded. "I was trying to help you see what you did through fresh eyes. In a way you couldn't at the time. But I didn't mean you were in the wrong," my hands moved hard and fast, motions fiercer than they needed to be, almost sloppy, "for not having all the information when you got in too deep."
Taylor looked at me for a long moment. "I... don't understand," she said at last, and it sounded like it took an effort of will for her to say it.
Again, I crammed down the urge to sigh. She was trying. And I knew I was explaining this poorly. "Okay. Just trust me for a second. You did bad things, yes?"
Her hands were starting to fist at her sides, and the bugs on the walls were starting to peel off into the air, but she nodded.
"Okay. And I'm not saying those things weren't bad to do. We both agree there. But when you asked me earlier, if it was all pointless. If it was actually so easy the whole time."
I paused to take a breath. I had to phrase this correctly.
"It's not that simple, Taylor. What we did with Dragon only worked because I was there. Because you had someone to back you up; someone..." fuck, how did I say 'someone with an established presence and trustworthy reputation'? My ASL vocabulary was good, but not that good. "Someone... with a voice." I winced at the double meaning there, but it would have to do. "To say it was pointless because we solved it by reaching out ignores the effort it took to make reaching out work. The trust that we formed. The trust you earned."
"Then what was I supposed to do?" she asked angrily, taking a step closer. "That puts me back to the same damn problem! Of doing the wrong thing, or doing nothing!"
I took a breath. "You do what all of us do. Make the decision you can live with, and help the people you can."
"And what do you think I've been doing?" Taylor snapped.
"Look. You said you wanted to be a hero that first night, right?"
She scoffed. "Yeah, but that died as soon as Defiant–"
"No," I interrupted, "I'm not talking about a Hero as a job. I'm talking about the role. The code. The morals and virtues and principles behind the idea. Did you go out that night for other people, or for yourself?"
The bugs were swooping and diving through the air at this point, swirls and sinuous coils twisting through one another with dizzying complexity. I didn't dare look at any of them.
"Both," she finally said. "For others. And so that I wouldn't… turn into something I hated. Even though I did anyway."
I smiled softly. "Then that should answer your question. Try to remember that night, when you're facing one of those choices again. Remember the girl who stood up to Lung because he said he'd kill children. Remember the cape who was ready to fight Dragon for her people. Remember the Villain who saved a girl from her sister because it was right."
My fingers were burning from the end of that, but the look in Taylor's eyes was worth every painful tingle. Her glasses magnified the proportions of her face. Softened her otherwise sharp edges. There was something lost in there. A glimmer of something, someone else. That faint spark was worth the pain.
The silence stretched. She didn't seem to know how to respond, or what to say. So I braced myself and took the initiative. It only seemed fair after what she'd done for me.
I took a step forward. When she didn't stop me, I took another. Step by step, inch by inch, I drew closer until she was right in front of me. And still, that look in her eyes was there. As gently as a whisper, I brought my arms around her and wrapped her in a hug.
She made a quiet choking noise against my shoulder. I pretended not to notice. If I could provide a moment of comfort for the lost girl in those eyes, then I'd gladly turn a blind eye to her vulnerability while she took it.
And it wasn't just comfort for her. She was warm and gentle against me. Her hair smelled nice; fresh from the shower. Lilac and lavender.
After a moment, I hummed softly. This was exactly what I needed after that nightmare earlier today. It centered me, grounded me back to previous experiences like this with Dean. He had been so willing, so understanding of my need for distance and touch at seemingly contradictory times. It didn't hurt nearly as much to think about him lately but–
Wait.
Wait.
I just. Compared Taylor. To Dean.
Oh, fuck.
A/N:
So. Now we get into the meat of this arc. Where Tori can no longer deny the feelings she's having, and what they represent. The shower was the catalyst for this, yes, but not in the… sexual sense. Obviously. More the way that it demonstrated just how painfully intimate she was willing to be with this person that the only comparison she could make forced her hand. But now it's out in the open. I'm sure this will be handled appropriately and out in the open. Yep.
No essay today but I did have a lovely rec in the form of Together in Their Own Way. It highlights the way that intimacy and romance don't always go hand in hand, but that does not take away from either. Given today's subject matter, I thought it appropriate. See you monday!
I kept my eyes on one in particular, watching as it built and built until its weight was too much to resist, dragging it down. The journey was glacial at first but rapidly picked up speed; the drop pulled other smaller dewdrops with it, leaving a slick trail carved through the mist on the mirror until it finally ran out of room. It teetered there, clinging to the edge of the glass for a moment, before falling down into the sink with a plink.
I stared at where it had burst apart for a moment, then looked back up from the porcelain to the fragment of mirror still hanging onto the frame. I closed my eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. Unfocused. My vision blurred until I could only see the fuzzy outline of my body through the cracks.
This close, through all the shards of glass, the girl staring back at me looked like a stranger wearing my skin. Jagged. Sharp. If not for the shock of bright yellow hair, the flash of blue in the eyeline, I might not have recognized her at all.
God, what was I doing? Why was this all so complicated? How did I get here? I didn't think I'd done anything wrong. I'd had reasons for everything I'd done; looking back I couldn't pick out anything since Skitter had rescued me that felt like a mistake, or that I wouldn't do again.
And yet, all those earnest choices had led me to a situation rife with problems that I had never imagined encountering and wanted no part in. I'd never signed up to face off with Heroes or flee from Dragon! I hadn't wanted to be party to a team of Villains ruling half the city, or complicit in their crimes! Why couldn't I just go home?
My teeth dug into my lip. I knew why. I couldn't forget.
Ever.
A shaky breath in. Skitter – no, Taylor; I couldn't think of her as Skitter right now, not after that. Taylor had left the room a few minutes ago after flying a change of clothes in for me via hornet express. At any other time the image alone would have me smiling. As it was, I couldn't even get the edges of my mouth to twitch.
Nothing about this situation was funny. Or easy. And there was no one I could ask for advice, nobody I'd known... before. Even if I dared reach out, I kept wondering what they'd say. What they'd think of my being here.
My fists clenched. My thoughts were running in circles. Again. I wasn't ready to deal with the… everything that my meltdown had dredged up. Or what I'd asked of Taylor. But I could focus on the surrounding details.
Like how I'd fucked up. Because I had. With the benefit of hindsight, I could see my mistake. Maybe it was a mistake I'd needed to make, but that didn't absolve me of it. I'd pushed Taylor too far, too fast. Implied intent behind her actions that might not have been there. That wasn't the same as condoning them, but I also had to admit I was the outsider here. Hadn't I just admitted how easy it was to get wrapped up in a situation entirely outside of my control? If Taylor had given me the benefit of the doubt again and again for this long, I owed at least that much to her.
My eyes caught on the fractured mirror again. It was barely holding together. In retrospect I was surprised that I hadn't put a hole through the wall. Which… was entirely unacceptable. My powers might be more unstable now, yes. And frankly, I could admit I probably was too. But that was the very first thing I'd been taught as part of New Wave: that our actions as capes were bigger than ourselves. Being a Hero didn't just mean having powers; it was an ideal and a vision for how they should be used.
I'd betrayed those ideals today. I'd fallen short.
I'd missed it in the moment, but looking back, Taylor hadn't been subtle about getting Charlotte and the kids away from me when I'd freaked out. I didn't know exactly what had happened, and I was still too raw to poke through the memories to piece it together myself. But I knew my aura had gone off again, at the bare minimum. We–I–had to acknowledge that.
My fingers curled around the soft cuffs of my hoodie, clean again, smelling faintly of detergent and fabric conditioner. Taylor had sourced more clothes than the initial ones she'd presented to me that first night, but this had stuck with me. Something about it, the fact that it was the first thing I'd worn at the time maybe? Meant it felt different. Safe. I needed that right now.
I looked at the mirror one last time, cracks and all. This was me, who I was, right now. I had to own up to it. For better or worse.
I turned, and pushed the door open.
"Find everything you need?" Taylor asked as I stepped back out into her room. She was standing near the bookshelf with her back to me – reorganizing, maybe? She was wearing a tank top and loose sweats, a marked improvement over the… previous situation.
I snorted. "Hard not to. Besides, you'd know if I didn't."
She paused, and I ran the previous sentence back in my head. Fuck. I hadn't meant to accuse her of–
"I hope you'd know by now that I'm not going to spy on you like that, Victoria," she said, confirming my thoughts. Was that a flicker of hurt in her tone? Or disappointment? Goddammit, I'd made a mistake already and the conversation hadn't even started!
"No, not like that!" I signed emphatically. "Just that if I had problems, you'd know. You'd hear from outside. I could knock. I know you'd hear."
Her shoulders slumped infinitesimally, and I resisted the urge to sigh. Talking to this girl felt like a minefield at the best of times, never mind now.
Seemingly mollified by my apology, she slid the book she was holding back into an empty spot on the upper shelf. I took a moment to consider her. Stalling for time, maybe. But there was also something… different about her.
I'd never seen Taylor in any clothing other than her signature silk, chitin, and kevlar armor. It made for an imposing figure, and by this point the entire city knew as much. But while I had been closer than most, and knew her proportions by this point, it was still strange to see her in casual clothes.
Her hair, black and shiny from the water, fell down her back in wet, unruly curls. It contrasted sharply with the white of her tank top, damp down the back from where her hair was dripping, slightly riding up as she strained to reach the top shelf. Taylor was a tall girl, taller than me, but even she couldn't reach everything.
The sweats she was wearing gave her a… softer appearance. Literally, since sweatpants were objectively the most comfortable form of clothing ever invented. But it was also the first time I'd seen her in anything that didn't look battle ready. She looked like any other girl. I could suddenly imagine meeting her in Arcadia, or passing by on the Boardwalk, or any other situation that wasn't the nightmare we were living through – and it said something that the idea of going to school or window-shopping at the Boardwalk like I had just a couple of months ago felt more foreign and unbelievable a concept than meeting Skitter there out of costume.
What would those two strangers think of each other? I couldn't help but wonder. The Taylor swallowed by Skitter's mask and the Victoria who wasn't broken – would they find anything in common? Any reason to talk, to share anything more than basic pleasantries before going on their separate ways? Two ships passing in the night? I couldn't help but feel a pang of loss at the thought, though exactly why I couldn't say. Much as Taylor had helped piece together the ruin of me that Amy left behind, I couldn't say it was worth it to meet her. That any of it was.
I bit my lip. That was the problem, wasn't it? That we had to meet this way at all. It wasn't fair, any of it. That we needed to go through this. Taylor's whole mess with Defiant and Coil, mine with Amy and Carol. None of it was necessary. Was it just circumstance? Bad luck? My gut twisted unpleasantly at the thought, the idea that acts of such horrific and intimate cruelty could be nothing more than accidents. Pointless punchlines to empty cosmic jokes.
"Tori?"
I blinked. I must have gotten lost in thought. Taylor had finished putting away her book, and was staring at me–wearing glasses? Had she needed glasses the entire time I'd known her? How had I never noticed?
"Glasses." I signed, almost unconsciously.
"Ah," Taylor said, reaching up to touch the square frames briefly. "Yeah."
We stood there for a moment.
"I didn't know you needed them," I signed eventually.
Taylor snorted. "Yeah, well, it'd be a bit of a deficiency in combat if I had lenses that could fall out of alignment, or contacts that could slip out."
"Then how?"
She jerked her head at the mask sitting on the table nearby. "I sourced duplicate lenses, and glued them into the housing of the goggles. Easier."
I stared at the mask with newfound appreciation. I had thought about it briefly, what felt like years ago now, but Skitter's costume looked professionally made, despite her having worn it since her debut. No one outside of established second gen triggers or the Wards had that kind of funding. That meant she did the work herself.
That was already more than most Independents did. But to go the extra mile and account for her own quality of life in the design? To not just accept the handicap and rationalize she wasn't going to be doing much reading with her mask on, but instead lean into it and integrate her glasses without compromising her protection? I knew I might not have come up with that after so much effort already spent on the rest. Especially not this early into my career.
"That's impressive. Wouldn't have known from looking."
A hint of red dusted her cheeks. "That's the point." She looked away from the mask and back to me. "Anyway, you wanted to say something? You were staring at me for an awfully long time."
I started to sign, and then paused mid motion. How would I even articulate what I wanted to say? It wasn't that I was hesitant to admit fault. I was squarely, if not in the wrong, then at least the place where I needed to acknowledge what I'd done to move forward.
No, the problem was that I was trying to dive into what was at best a sensitive topic with a cape who'd taken me in without question, and I had no idea where to start.
"Tori?" Taylor asked, taking a step closer.
I steeled myself. Nothing for it then, just start with the simple stuff. "I'm sorry."
Taylor tilted her head. "Why?"
"For…" I took a moment to swallow. My mouth was dry. "For losing control like that. In front of Charlotte and the kids."
She considered me for a moment. "You did do that," she eventually allowed, "and we do need to talk about it. The kids were scared."
My nails dug into my palm, but I kept quiet and took the scolding. Fair was fair. I'd fucked up and now I needed to hear this.
"But," Taylor said, "you were faced with… that… with no warning. We didn't plan for it. So long as it doesn't happen again… that's fine."
The breath left me in a rush. That… that was it? That was far less than I'd expected. I'd seen Skitter snap at her people when she'd been agitated, seen her... if not berate them, then at least address them when they'd screwed up. Charlotte in the midst of the Dragon incident came to mind. The tone she took with them was chilled at best. This... was not that. It wasn't quite warm, but it was a hell of a lot softer than I deserved.
Well. Fine. Fine, I could work with that. I was on the same page with her there. The last thing I wanted to do was to frighten a bunch of kids who were by outward appearance alone barely in the first stages of recovery.
"Agreed. Thank you for helping me in the aftermath." I looked away as I signed. I couldn't meet her eyes.
A slow sigh. "You're welcome. Someone had to. I'm glad you made it through."
That pulled a soft smile out of me. "Are you sure it wasn't too much? I know I was… asking a lot of you without much warning. Or discussion beforehand. And that sounds manipulative even to me–"
"Tori." She cut me off. "Did you intend to have that panic attack?"
I hesitated, feeling my stomach drop like the floor had fallen out from under my feet. I wanted to object, to argue how I should have had better control, should have kept my aura leashed even when I was emotionally volatile–
I shook my head.
"Would you have been able to calm yourself down on your own?"
Metal washed over my tongue. I felt the memory of spiderwebs parting between my shoulders, the couch turning into kindling between my fingers.
I shook my head.
"Did you need my help?"
Prickling in my eyes forced me to blink away a sudden wetness. I remembered the breathlessness. The terror. The way the world had spun, rootless and anchorless, alone in a dark pit of fear and filth and family-turned-foe.
I nodded.
"Then I don't see the issue."
I jerked up, my eyes snapping open to stare at her. My vision was blurry, but Taylor wasn't standing any closer. Her arms were slack by her sides. The walls rustled. Her lips were quirked up to one side in an awkward half-smile.
Was it really that easy?
"Are–Are you sure?"
She nodded. "You had a problem. I helped fix it."
I sniffled. Taylor had the grace to pretend not to notice as I discreetly brushed the tears out of my eyes. I had done more than enough crying for one day.
"Thank you. I appreciate it. That does just leave one thing."
She pursed her lips, but nodded at me to go ahead.
"I wasn't fair to you in our conversation before that moment on the radio."
She cocked her head. "This one you'll have to explain to me."
How to find the words… "The questions I asked. Do you remember?"
Her lips thinned. I was afraid of that. "Yes, I remember. If you want to revisit–"
I frantically shook my head. "No, it's not about that. I was trying to help you there. But I think I gave off the wrong impression."
"The wrong impression?"
I nodded. "I was trying to help you see what you did through fresh eyes. In a way you couldn't at the time. But I didn't mean you were in the wrong," my hands moved hard and fast, motions fiercer than they needed to be, almost sloppy, "for not having all the information when you got in too deep."
Taylor looked at me for a long moment. "I... don't understand," she said at last, and it sounded like it took an effort of will for her to say it.
Again, I crammed down the urge to sigh. She was trying. And I knew I was explaining this poorly. "Okay. Just trust me for a second. You did bad things, yes?"
Her hands were starting to fist at her sides, and the bugs on the walls were starting to peel off into the air, but she nodded.
"Okay. And I'm not saying those things weren't bad to do. We both agree there. But when you asked me earlier, if it was all pointless. If it was actually so easy the whole time."
I paused to take a breath. I had to phrase this correctly.
"It's not that simple, Taylor. What we did with Dragon only worked because I was there. Because you had someone to back you up; someone..." fuck, how did I say 'someone with an established presence and trustworthy reputation'? My ASL vocabulary was good, but not that good. "Someone... with a voice." I winced at the double meaning there, but it would have to do. "To say it was pointless because we solved it by reaching out ignores the effort it took to make reaching out work. The trust that we formed. The trust you earned."
"Then what was I supposed to do?" she asked angrily, taking a step closer. "That puts me back to the same damn problem! Of doing the wrong thing, or doing nothing!"
I took a breath. "You do what all of us do. Make the decision you can live with, and help the people you can."
"And what do you think I've been doing?" Taylor snapped.
"Look. You said you wanted to be a hero that first night, right?"
She scoffed. "Yeah, but that died as soon as Defiant–"
"No," I interrupted, "I'm not talking about a Hero as a job. I'm talking about the role. The code. The morals and virtues and principles behind the idea. Did you go out that night for other people, or for yourself?"
The bugs were swooping and diving through the air at this point, swirls and sinuous coils twisting through one another with dizzying complexity. I didn't dare look at any of them.
"Both," she finally said. "For others. And so that I wouldn't… turn into something I hated. Even though I did anyway."
I smiled softly. "Then that should answer your question. Try to remember that night, when you're facing one of those choices again. Remember the girl who stood up to Lung because he said he'd kill children. Remember the cape who was ready to fight Dragon for her people. Remember the Villain who saved a girl from her sister because it was right."
My fingers were burning from the end of that, but the look in Taylor's eyes was worth every painful tingle. Her glasses magnified the proportions of her face. Softened her otherwise sharp edges. There was something lost in there. A glimmer of something, someone else. That faint spark was worth the pain.
The silence stretched. She didn't seem to know how to respond, or what to say. So I braced myself and took the initiative. It only seemed fair after what she'd done for me.
I took a step forward. When she didn't stop me, I took another. Step by step, inch by inch, I drew closer until she was right in front of me. And still, that look in her eyes was there. As gently as a whisper, I brought my arms around her and wrapped her in a hug.
She made a quiet choking noise against my shoulder. I pretended not to notice. If I could provide a moment of comfort for the lost girl in those eyes, then I'd gladly turn a blind eye to her vulnerability while she took it.
And it wasn't just comfort for her. She was warm and gentle against me. Her hair smelled nice; fresh from the shower. Lilac and lavender.
After a moment, I hummed softly. This was exactly what I needed after that nightmare earlier today. It centered me, grounded me back to previous experiences like this with Dean. He had been so willing, so understanding of my need for distance and touch at seemingly contradictory times. It didn't hurt nearly as much to think about him lately but–
Wait.
Wait.
I just. Compared Taylor. To Dean.
Oh, fuck.
A/N:
So. Now we get into the meat of this arc. Where Tori can no longer deny the feelings she's having, and what they represent. The shower was the catalyst for this, yes, but not in the… sexual sense. Obviously. More the way that it demonstrated just how painfully intimate she was willing to be with this person that the only comparison she could make forced her hand. But now it's out in the open. I'm sure this will be handled appropriately and out in the open. Yep.
No essay today but I did have a lovely rec in the form of Together in Their Own Way. It highlights the way that intimacy and romance don't always go hand in hand, but that does not take away from either. Given today's subject matter, I thought it appropriate. See you monday!
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