Taylor Hebert is not a girl.
Written for the prompts "Dadfiant and Taylor" and "a cape friend helping their cape friend transition and maybe falling in love" For the Cauldron Valentine snips exchange 2022
"Fan mail?" Defiant asks, and Taylor looks at the letters on the floor, the ones she threw away after just a few words.
"Hate mail," she says, and Defiant makes a sound of understanding.
"I used to get some, too," he says. "From villains' fans, or their friends or families. Victims' families, too, sometimes. It comes with being a public figure, especially once you reach a certain level of notoriety."
He doesn't say that if Armsmaster would get that kind of mail, if a hero would, of course Weaver, Skitter, the villain would, too.
Eat glass and choke. Was that an email or a letter? Who sent it? Emma, or a stranger?
"Maybe we should have hidden who I was," Taylor says. "Say Skitter dies, present Weaver as someone else. We could have pretended I was a boy to throw people off the trail."
Defiant shifts.
"Maybe," he says. "I don't think it's so easy, you know. To pretend to be someone you're not."
For a second, Taylor thinks he's going to say more, but a voice calls his name from the hallway, and she's left alone with the letters.
She burns them.
---
The thing is, sometimes, Taylor thinks she would like it, if people thought she were a boy. Sometimes, she thinks back about that first night, with Lung, and she wishes she'd waited. She wishes she'd covered her hair and the back of her head, and let everyone think she wasn't a girl.
(Lisa would have known. Lisa would have known, the way she always knows secrets, but Lisa knew Taylor was lying, knew Taylor wasn't a villain, knew Taylor was planning to betray, and she said nothing, and maybe she wouldn't have said anything. Maybe she would have kept that secret, too.)
Taylor's hair is black. Curly. Long. Her mother's hair.
(She likes it. It's all she has left of Mom, and she likes it, it's the only part of herself she likes sometimes, when she looks at the mirror and she feels like she's itching under the skin, when she wants to scratch until her skin peels off, dig out her veins and bones until everything stops being
wrong.)
Taylor likes her hair and she wants to keep it and it's
girl's hair and maybe things would have been better if, on that very first night, Lung had burnt it down to ashes.
---
When Taylor was a kid, before the world lost its shine, the children at recess would talk about heroes, about which was the best; the strongest, the fastest, the most favorite.
"Alexandria," Taylor would say. It was a lie.
(Alexandria was Emma's favorite. Mom's favorite. It didn't feel right, not liking her best. Like Taylor was doing something wrong, was failing a test somehow. A lot of girl things had felt like that.)
Taylor liked Legend best, some days. Others, it was Chevalier, or Eidolon, or Armsmaster and Dauntless. It didn't matter, really. Just that they were tall and strong and saved people, and Taylor had wanted to be just like them.
It didn't happen, in the end. Taylor had tried, after getting powers. Asked Brian about it, about how to get strong, had thought that maybe with it confidence would come, but… Wrong body type. Getting muscle definition was possible, muscle
mass wasn't.
And then, Taylor had killed Alexandria.
And then, Defiant.
Defiant, who had changed his name.
Colin, who had changed his name.
"Colin?" Taylor asks. "How did you know you were a man?"
---
Colin lets Taylor borrow some of his old clothes. Shirts, mostly. A few hoodies.
"You can keep them," he says. "They don't fit anymore."
They wouldn't. Taylor isn't sure what exactly Colin put in himself, or what he did to his spine and ribs and flesh, but he's taller now, looming over everyone even when he takes his armor off.
The clothes are too big for Taylor anyway, shoulders too wide and hands covered in too-long sleeves, and yet they
fit in a way nothing else did before.
In the mirror, hair covered by the hood, Taylor looks like a boy.
"It's temporary," Colin says. "Just until we can buy you something in your size."
Taylor rolls back the sleeves. The fabric is soft, and heavy.
"I like it," he says.
---
"I don't get it," Dad says. "It's not that I don't believe that it's
true, or that I think it's in Taylor's head or something like that, I just… I don't
understand."
Taylor shouldn't be listening in. Dad wouldn't be saying it to his face, he knows, and he shouldn't be listening. He doesn't want to hear it.
It hurts.
"Mister Hebert," Colin says. "This isn't about you."
"I know!" Dad says. "I
know, okay? I know. It's just…"
He sighs. It sounds muffled, as though his head were in his hands.
"I know I haven't been the best father for Taylor," he says. "Things… Things went wrong. Some of it came from Taylor, some of it came from me. Maybe most of it, I don't know. I…"
A sigh, again. Or maybe a sob. Taylor isn't sure.
"Do you have any idea," Dad continues, "how it feels, to see your, your child run away from you? To see your
child's face on the fucking news next to the name of a
villain? Taylor
killed people in front of me, killed
Alexandria in front, and it's not easy, okay? It's not easy to fit that in with the baby I bounced on my knee and with the kid who
loved her, and we were just starting to move on, we were just starting to build back, and I'm scared! I'm scared I'm going to fuck this up and
I don't know what to do!"
He's almost screaming, and he must have noticed, because he stops, and takes a deep breath. When he speaks again, his voice is quiet.
"I don't want to lose him," he says.
---
"Did everything go well with the therapist?" Colin asks as they walk toward the cafeteria.
Taylor hesitates.
"You don't have to tell me," Colin says, and Taylor shakes his head.
"No," he says. "I mean, yes. It went well. I think? I was just…"
Nervous.
Colin gives an understanding nod.
"If there is any problem, you can tell me," he says. "I can pull some strings to get you another one. Or Dragon, if you want to tell her."
Taylor turns to stare at him.
"You didn't tell her?" he asks, and Colin shakes his head.
"No," he says. "Not unless you want me to."
"Oh," Taylor says.
It feels weird, to think that Dragon doesn't know. That Colin didn't tell her. Since he became Defiant, Taylor kind of thought of them as a package deal, with the unspoken assumption that telling something to one was telling the other.
That Colin kept their conversations private brings a strange feeling behind Taylor's eyes.
They keep walking quietly for a while. This time, it's Taylor who breaks the silence.
"Dad said…" he starts, and stops, and tries again. "Dad said he'd give his authorization. If I… For pills. And to change stuff, legally. If I want."
Colin stops walking, his hand coming to rest on Taylor's shoulder in an awkward, unfamiliar gesture.
"I'm glad," he says.
There is something in his voice that tells Taylor he means it.
---
"I think I don't want to cut my hair," Taylor says.
"Okay," Colin says, and he closes his laptop to turn toward him.
It doesn't necessarily mean he stopped doing what he was doing. Not with all the things he put in his own head. He mentioned, once, that there might be enough computer in there for all of Dragon to fit if she wanted to.
On the other hand, he wouldn't have bothered pretending to stop for the sake of politeness.
"It's girl's hair," Taylor says.
"It's your hair," Colin says.
It is. It's
his hair, and Taylor likes it, Taylor doesn't want to cut it, but…
Mom.
"Long hair is girl's hair," Taylor says.
"There are plenty of boys with long hair," Colin says. "Either way, it's hair. You can cut it later, or grow it back. It's not a permanent change."
"I don't know," Taylor says.
"You have time," Colin says.
---
White and blue aren't girl's colors. Weaver isn't a girl's name. Those aren't things that need to change.
But.
Weaver is a girl.
Taylor isn't a girl. Taylor was never a girl. But Weaver, like Skitter, is a name others gave, is a mask and a costume, is as much image as person, and Weaver, like Skitter, is a girl.
Maybe it could change. Maybe Weaver could become a boy. Maybe Taylor just needs to work for it.
Maybe he doesn't want to.
It would be nice, he thinks. A new identity. It wouldn't… It wouldn't stop the hate mail, it wouldn't
hide anything, everyone would know it's Taylor behind the mask, but the image would change. Taylor, as a cape, as a boy. Keep the white, replace the blue with green or gold.
He's wearing pants and a shirt he bought in the male aisle at the store, and one of Colin's old hoodies, hanging heavy off his shoulders as if a hand was resting there, and in his hand, there is a roll of papers, ideas for names and new costumes.
Taylor takes a deep breath, and knocks on Glenn Chamber's door.
