Pack, A
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Pack, A
Pack--1 (Stefanie)
July 12th
She woke slowly, her memories and thoughts swirling and mixing together, and yet never quite coming together, like a recipe that was started and then left half-finished. Her memories felt… she didn't know how she'd gotten here or why she was here, but mornings were like that, sometimes.
Stefanie didn't like them, even as she did try to get up early enough to get one over on them. She felt hungry, her stomach hurt, her head felt like cotton, and there was something wrong that she couldn't quite place.
Besides this, there was the beeping up something. A monitor? It was the sort of sound that made her think of the silly hospital dramas her mother watched, back before…
There it came. Memories, though they felt like dreams. She'd… gotten powers. She'd hesitated, she'd gone out.
She'd almost been killed.
Stefanie had been saved, had taken up a name, Pelter.
Then there was the camp, Arachne and Bitch, the rest of the team, Cassie coming and suddenly making everything better, and then things getting…
That's where the memories seemed to make less sense. She tried to open her eyes, but she wasn't strong enough for that. The Butcher had been a threat. She remembered that. But after that.
The strange woman with the endless supply of powers had been their greatest enemy. Or it'd been hers. She remembered a fight between Rachel and Taylor, as she'd stood off to the side and tried not to feel out of place worrying about the love life of two of her teammates.
Stefanie tried to open her eyes once more, and then gave up, sinking back down into the sheets.
When she again became aware of the world, it was a little less heavy. A little less absurd. She was still hungry, though, but also tired, in that drowsy way a person got when they'd had too much food.
...she had far too little experience of being sick to really have the right comparisons. Groaning, she opened her eyes.
The beeping seemed only louder, and there in front of her were--
She blinked.
White walls, check.
Maybe she should make a list of what she was expecting and what she wasn't, because one of the things was a dog.
In the corner, Taylor Hebert and Rachel Lindt were sitting, neither of them in costume, though Taylor had on a black domino mask that hid nothing. And at their feet was a dog. She didn't know which one, because…
She liked dogs. Dogs were nice, but that wasn't the same as being as obsessive as Taylor and Rachel were.
Then there were her parents, right next to the bed. Mom, round and soft, her eyes brimming with tears. "Honey, are you okay?"
Mom pressed herself up against Stefanie, and Stefanie wanted to hug her back. But she was too tired, still.
"Let her have some space, dear."
And then there was… Amy Dallon. The memory took a moment to pull up. A moment too long. "Can you understand me, Pelter?"
"Yes," she said, and then she realized she was thirsty, her voice a rasp.
"What do you last remember?"
"I… think we were going to fight the Butcher?" Her head hurt, and her memories seemed to dance away from her when she tried to reach them, like they were kids at school, playing some cruel prank.
"Your short-term memory might be negatively impacted. I was able to get your brain back working, but there's only so much brain mass," Panacea said, defensively. "I think that's all. Bad short term memory, but if there are any changes to emotional affect, or how you feel in any way, that's something you need to tell me, so I can figure out how to fix it. I'm still working on this."
"Still working on this?" Cassie asked.
Because there was Cassie as well, her bright, energetic blue eyes rounding on Amy was she bounced forward, towards the bed.
"I didn't do brains," Amy said.
"We've agreed not to pry," Taylor said, in this soft chiding voice that almost made Stefanie want to laugh.
"Ah, right, sorry," Cassie said, frowning and looking away.
"What happened?"
"We won," Rachel said, bluntly. As if that was the only answer needed. Stefanie frowned and sat up slightly, though it took up far too much of her strength, and she almost felt faint after that.
"We defeated the Butcher. They're in the Birdcage now, or on the way, and being kept unconscious on the way. Which is probably not…" Taylor hesitated, and clearly meant something about legality.
Well, it did seem pretty sketchy, but at the same time it was the Butcher. Stefanie nodded her head. "And?"
"You were hurt. Brain damage," Cassie said, and there was a note of panic in her voice at even the thought of that.
"Who else was hurt?"
"Too many people," Taylor said, stepping closer. She felt as if she were being pressed in from all sides, as if they were going to lift her up and carry her away. "But… all of us are alive. And that's what matters. Even B… Phase is alive, as is Kid Win. Though--"
"Bryce?" Stefanie asked, then realized she shouldn't have blurted it out. She shifted a little, and said, "Oh. I… who's watching the camp?"
"We can do that, sweet-pea," Dad said.
She blushed. The idea of him using that nickname in front of all her friends, it was enough that she wanted to disappear, or go back to sleep.
"I can help too," Cassie said, eagerly, leaning forward. "I was really worried about you. Everyone else is already out of the hospital, though Flechette is being watched."
"Oh," Stefanie said, looking over at Cassie, and thinking about what she should say. "Thank you for helping."
"It's the least I can do," Cassie said.
Stefanie remembered the crush that Cassie so clearly had on Rachel, and the way that she'd devoted all of her time and energy to the team and making sure that things worked out. The way she invested so much. It was brave. And sorta foolish. But mostly brave. "No, it's the most you can do," Stefanie said, shaking her head.
"Well, maybe."
"I'm… tired," Stefanie said.
"Well, it's the evening," Panacea said, thoughtfully. "Maybe tomorrow?"
********
"What can you remember?"
Stefanie's head hurt, and she hated how the hospital gown looked on her. "Green… twenty-something, blue, red, two…"
"Green, twenty four, purple, red, two," Panacea said, frowning. "I think that the damage isn't as bad as I thought it could be. But you'll definitely need to find a way to deal with the memory problems. I would, at least."
Cassie wasn't there, because of course there was a camp to look after, there was so much to do. She needed to be strong. She couldn't stop now. She was a hero, and… she had a camp to look after, for as long as it remained.
As long as it took before the world to go back to normal.
"Thank you for what you've been doing."
"I can help you, even if I can't help others," Panacea said, frowning.
"What?"
"I held myself back, I didn't do brains because I was afraid of what I was," Panacea said, absently. "It was stupid."
Stefanie didn't say the truth, which was that she understood the idea of limiting yourself. But of course she couldn't, she was too weak to ever survive if she did that. She was just a child, and she wondered if she'd ever stop feeling that way. Feel like she was in control. "I… couldn't ever afford to hold back."
"Neither could I," Panacea said, bitterly. "It's not your problem, though."
It wasn't, it really wasn't. But Stefanie felt like she should ask, like she should get to know. But… how to bridge the gap?
There was a new recipe and no room in the oven. She bit her lip. "If you ever want to talk…"
"No. Thank you," Panacea said, though she didn't sound like she meant it. She said thank you and meant buzz off.
That was all that she could do.
*******
She got only one hospital meal before she went home, and staring down at it she really was curious about the weird dichotomy.
The stereotype she'd always heard was that hospital food was horrible and dull. But her Mom had friends who worked in that field, and so she wasn't surprised when she was able to get meatloaf, potatoes, collard greens, and even some cornbread.
They had to have food for basically any sort of dietary requirements, and so what was in front of her was quite edible, and it reminded her of some of the meals her Mom would have whipped up for her when she couldn't afford to put in a lot of mental effort… but did have time to spare.
Most of the time, what her Mom fed her was always so fine, food that, like taking your child to art galleries and letting them explore their tastes, allowed them to develop her own… understanding, she supposed.
Of course, the fact that she had developed a taste for food, and good food at that, probably had something to do with the fact that she, as some 'friends' had remarked, 'Could stand to lose a few pounds, you'd be so much prettier if--'
Leaving all of that behind was certainly one of the more welcome parts of becoming a hero.
So here was food. She ate it, frowning, almost wishing she'd ordered a desert. Because it wasn't bad… it just was made in a bit of a hurry. She thought that maybe it sounded sentimental: but food made with passion just tasted differently. Some of it was just ingredients, of course. Some of it was flair. But she kept up the eating, her parents downstairs finishing up the paperwork to take her out of here… out of here, but back to her job.
That's the way she needed to see it. It was her job. That made it easier to go back to, to continue doing. If it ever stopped feeling like her job, helping people…
The door opened.
Cassie, humming, wearing a cute pair of jeans and a T-shirt for… Deadguy, some band that Stefanie had never even heard of, stepped in. She moved with a sort of rhythm, as if she were in a musical, as if her every movement was blessed.
Maybe it was. The Deadguy logo was a skull, and it was such an odd choice.
"Hey, Stefanie. I thought you'd want to know how things were going. Things are going great in the camp. With the Teeth collapsing, we're sorta… going out. Well, not me. Going out and reclaiming the territory there. Some people who want it are going home, but most of them are staying in the camp."
"You need to find a third apartment building," Stefanie said. It'd been on the list of things that she'd needed to do. But of course, most of them weren't safe. Perhaps the lower floors could be safe enough for temporary habitation?
"Yeah, we do. I was going to ask for your help with that, since you're so much better at me than--"
Stefanie was surprised at the flattery that came so easily to Cassie. She let her talk for a little, and then said, "I'll do what I can do. But I'm sure you have it in hand."
"Well, I mean. Rachel and Arachne aren't much help. They're busy getting the dogs back to the shelter, and dealing with… all of those problems. And with each other," Cassie said, though the look on her face wasn't exasperated.
"Oh."
"I even brought a bribe so that you'd help!" She pulled a sea-salt caramel chocolate bar from her pocket. "What do you say you add some desert to this boring hospital food."
"It's not boring, it's functional," Stefanie said. But she held out her hand to take it anyways. She always loved good chocolate. "How did you know I'd like this?"
"I asked your Mom. If you don't mind me doing so?"
"You did. But… I… thanks." She didn't know what to say. She'd never had a friend who would do something like that. They'd always been… distant. School friends.
Stefanie looked down at the chocolate bar, and then opened it up slowly, smelling it like she was a wine connoisseur.
A good brand.
Then she split it in half. "Here you go. Let's share the duties."
"Yeah. That'd be nice."
So, there it was. "So, the third apartment. Besides the lower stories of the buildings, there are other options, because I've noticed that Arachne's range is only getting better. Plus, with the collapse of the Teeth, there doesn't exist a major threat, especially not one that we can't just deal with if it shows up. We have to mass-produce more of those radios, is G… Artificer able to work? If he is, then…"
********
Pack--2 (Charlotte)
July 15th
They met in one of the apartments, this time. There were bugs there, of course, but Charlotte had long since gotten used to being seen. Most of the time. She didn't know if she'd ever really be completely used to it, but was she supposed to complain?
Would she always be marked by her experiences, and by her powers? That's the way it worked, she thought, looking around at the circle of people ready to talk. When she imagined eyes on her, looking at her, naked and helpless, when she pictured all of the things she could be, and all of the things she was, she could feel very helpless.
Even groups unnerved her: groups like these reminded her of her trigger, of her power.
Yet she gathered them together anyways, because she was a glutton for punishment, someone whose suffering had always been indirect. She hadn't been touched but briefly, but she'd watched others suffer, her eyes hard, her heart dead.
Weigh it on the scales in the afterlife, and some dark God would declare that she deserved damnation. Weigh her inaction, her words when actions were all that would suffice.
Weigh that she'd watched as Taylor had been pulled from the locker, hadn't done anything then, hadn't been able to do anything until it was almost too late.
And when she did?
It was an act of hubris, an act of controlling others when you couldn't even control yourself.
She didn't understand how Taylor forgave her, and more than that, seemed to forget everything. Not just the use of powers, but the inaction, the failures so deep and broad that they seemed like they could dominate her life.
Her life. Taylor's life.
But they apparently didn't? Charlotte didn't know how to feel about that. Surely it was wrong to feel like you should be punished more?
They began to talk, and she was caught up in the cadence of people to talk to, people to help. This support group had problems. Cynthia clearly had untreated mental illness, and there were problems that a therapist could help with.
Charlotte had even looked through the list of registered psychotherapists in Brockton Bay. There was a long list, apparently even after the Endbringer came. They went all up and down the alphabet, from Ayers to Vane, and ranged the gamut. Sex therapists, gender therapists, therapists dealing in married couples exclusively… there were so many options, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to choose just one.
She wasn't sure if she liked being in charge, even of herself. But if she wasn't going to take charge with her powers, she…
Rachel was right there.
"I've had a tough time, lately," Charlotte said when it was her turn to talk. "I've worried that maybe I'm not going to be… content again."
"Content?" Beat asked. She looked as if she was always on the verge of objecting to something, but that was the mystery of faces. A person could look disagreeable, and just look it. How did you read eyes and see souls?
"There was the fight with Butcher, and everything else, I've told you about that, the failure, the…"
She'd been forgiven. But who wants to be forgiven so easily? So many people, but none of them worth much to Charlotte. "I don't know what to do, there."
"What about… you've talked about your trigger before," Beat stated. "What about your life is… replicating that? That's the terminology right?"
"I know what it is," Charlotte said. "Being watched. Being judged… or not judged."
"Not judged?"
Charlotte laughed. "Isn't it silly?"
It was, wasn't it? It was the kind of absurd mindset that she'd thought she was past. She was helping people, she was a hero, so now. Now why was she still not satisfied.
******
Another woman would have been embarrassed by absurdity of her actions, but Taylor Hebert was so oddly confident, so oddly composed for someone who'd gone through what she did.
Some people would have balked at the hypocrisy of confronting someone who had expressed distaste at being watched… based on information that had been gained from surveillance.
But there she was, blank-faced, but with her eyes conveying something. She smelled of dogs, but she always did. Sometimes even after baths. It was just a constant… aroma. Charlotte had learned to get used to it, mostly, and she wondered if Taylor even noticed it, except when it got too strong and she bathed it off. Very temporarily.
Taylor had been over by the Shelter, and yet here she was.
"I'm sorry if I've been making you uncomfortable."
"You're sorry? You're sorry, and I'm never guilty," Charlotte said, and then blinked, stunned by the bitterness of her own words, which seemed to choke in her throat.
"You're very guilty, at times. But so am I. I can't fucking judge you like you want me to," Taylor said, with a smile. "I don't think it's very fair, but the world isn't fair. But I'll stop watching you if it helps."
"...but there's security concerns, aren't there?" Charlotte asked.
"Of course there are. The Undersiders are still out there, including… Imp. Yes. Though we might not remember her, come time." Taylor shook her head.
Charlotte didn't know what had changed, but Taylor seemed different ever since she'd killed the Butcher. More decisive, more incisive, vicious but tempered with something strange and a little bit threatening. She worked harder, and faster. She stared off into space, and yet her body was watchful.
It was bizarre, really. "Come time? Are we going to fight them too?"
"Eventually we'll have to. They have their vials, they have a small gang, and they're going to be expanding some. We know all this. But at the same time, you're right. I don't want to fight them if I don't have to." Taylor shook her head and crossed her arms.
Another difference. She was finally stopping with the long-sleeves, which she'd worn basically anytime she wasn't in costume. So Charlotte could see the tan already building up on her arms. It was hard to know what it all meant.
Though what it definitely meant was that Charlotte would probably be remiss in commenting on, say, Taylor's bare legs, and the virtues of a spa treatment.
"You might have to. They're going to be just as hard as Coil… or they'll be overthrown, won't they?"
"Maybe. You don't think villains can do any good?"
"I do, but… is she one of them? Are they going to be part of something that can last?"
"How would I know? But I'm going to at least give her a chance not to disappoint us all."
"Ah," Charlotte said, "Like you…"
"Yeah. Like I gave Rachel a chance."
That wasn't what Charlotte meant, but she knew a dismissal of the topic when she heard it, and she knew that there was only so much you could argue about.
So she nodded, and tried to tell herself that things were still good.
The world moved on. She needed to do so too.
Pack--3 (Lily)
July 14th
The Director's desk was clear, as if she had no paperwork at all, and yet her eyes seemed to say the opposite. That she'd cleared a mountain just to have room to deal with Flechette. Lily tried not to be nervous, but she was very aware that Piggot could do any number of things to completely ruin her life.
And what could she do in return? All she could do was, perhaps, quit. But then would she be allowed to? And she certainly didn't want to. She imagined what her parents would say, their disapproval that wouldn't need words to be expressed.
Just a cold look, a shake of their heads. She wondered whether it was their thoughts that she was needy, and worthless. She licked her lips, a nervous habit, and tried not to look away as Piggot looked onward.
Those grey eyes seemed to pierce straight through Lily.
Piggot knew. Knew that she was selfish, and even though she couldn't, Lily wondered what else she might know.
"You might well have died. Phase has lost his hand, and Kid Win almost died as well. If you had merely waited a day or two more, we would have dealt with her, and without having to kill someone while we were at it. Though the outcome is positive… or at least, there were worse outcomes possible, that doesn't excuse fully what you did. If it had failed and you'd lived, I would have suspended you as soon as the Butcher crisis was done with."
"Instead, you've captured all of the Teeth--"
"Except Animos," Piggot interrupted, and her eyes told Lily that Piggot had an idea of where Animos was.
"Yes, except Animos," Flechette said. "I did good work."
"So, you're not suspended, or on probation. But you're going to be taken temporarily off the roster of patrols, until we can figure out how best to use you, despite…"
"Despite, ma'am?" Lily asked, as if she were the long-suffering and dutiful Ward, rather than the one who'd abandoned it all for love and a dangerous fight.
"Despite your compromised state."
"Compromised?"
"The Undersiders and the… Pack worked together. The Pack is not a villainous group, but they've clearly accepted certain biases towards Hellhound--"
"Bitch," Flechette said, and then she blinked, startled at her own insistent phrase. Arachne was getting to her.
Piggot's expression seemed to be almost amused. After all, Lily had just proven her point. "Be whoever she wants to be, that doesn't matter."
"They'll stand against the Undersiders," Lily insisted. "Please don't worry, Director."
"It's my job to worry. Do you want to be suspended? Would that help you understand where your priorities lie?"
"I know where they lie," Lily said. "We've beaten the Teeth, Coil's gone. Dinah's rescued, and they're not exactly calling you out on the fact that you hesitated."
She realized that she'd raised her voice slightly.
"It was proper caution, approved of by all of our analysts. If you had waited, we could have coordinated with the… Pack."
"It worked," Lily said weakly.
"So, in addition to the Undersiders, there are still a few small gangs that have popped up, not necessarily Parahuman. I could assign you specifically to patrol the docks."
Lily tensed, and tried not to object. Because if she did, that meant she'd definitely get sent there, as far from Sabah as possible.
"You could," Lily said.
"But I will not. Perhaps a closer relationship with the Pack is needed in order to encourage them to stand against the last major villain threat in Brockton Bay. Or perhaps they aren't a threat. If so, you could return to New York."
She hated this feeling. It was bizarre, because it wasn't like she did anything good with power and control over her life, but this sort of helplessness wasn't welcome at all, it was the kind of feeling that didn't make her…
Just another way she was broken, just another way she was imperfect. That the same emotion could feel right and wrong in different circumstances.
"I think there is work we could still do. For now we need to restore order in the rest of the city, and… the Pack isn't taking credit."
Which was a mistake. Or rather, they weren't insistently pointing out the truth, which is that the Protectorate had tried their hardest, but they hadn't been able to beat the Butcher, while the Pack had. It was that simple. But… instead, from what she'd seen of her online followers, it seemed split fifty-fifty. It was controversial, it was an argument, and if it was like that online, then the average person of Brockton Bay probably thanked the Protectorate and only the Pack as an afterthought.
And whereas before she would have thought that's just how it worked… now she didn't think it was fair. It was wrong, even.
But… what could she do?
"This is good," Piggot said. "You are dismissed. Consider your loyalties, and try to convince them to end the Undersiders, and we can finally have a city free of villains."
Her eyes sparked with ambition. With a drive that no doubt would end in ashes.
Lily didn't shudder, except on the inside.
********
Lily shuddered at the feelings in her stomach as she stumbled into her house. She'd said yes!
She licked her lips, her tongue brushing against the braces she still wore. In six months, she'd have powers. But for now, she just felt giddy and light.
Emi was lovely, Emi was kind, Emi's Mom was an Asian-American activist, someone likely to understand, maybe, the fact that Lily and Emi were a couple. She opened the door to her house and went to the couch. Latchkey for Life, she thought, grinning so broad that her face actually hurt.
She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her clothing comfortable… nothing like what she'd thought she'd needed in order to impress girls. She'd only been out to herself for a few weeks, by now, and she'd read her way through a lot of media, especially online. It was amazing, how much you could find.
Articles about Legend, articles about New York and its gay history, it seemed as if there was just all of the affirmation in the world. Her parents weren't… great, but they'd come around eventually, right? Surely they'd understand, if she put it the right way.
She was reading a lot, and she knew how to do relationships by now. There was a way you could have fair, healthy relationships among equals, and she'd do that. They'd split the bills, and hug, and give each other gifts, but never ones that either of them couldn't afford, though… Lily was poorer than Emi. Solidly middle-class, rather than part of a family that could have sent her to a private school if they felt like it.
But that wasn't a big deal. She'd find a way to pay her own way, even if she had to… she giggled at the thought of paper routes and all the things you saw in old stories. It wasn't that way, she was fourteen, she'd just have to ask for an allowance. Her parents wouldn't like it, but maybe they'd give in if she…
She didn't know what to say, biting her lip and thinking giddily. There is a magic to the past, but it's a twisted, broken magic.
It's the magic of knowing you didn't know the future, and yet wanting to do so. She had to remember this moment in the context of what came.
The way that she kept on hoping that Emi would treat her to a meal, or that she'd give some gift, some token that proved they were real once it turned out that Emi wasn't out to her Mom. Wouldn't be. But would be out with the world, in at least a few ways.
They kissed. They kissed a lot. She had that going for her. But Emi always leaned back, as if… as if Lily should be ravaging her.
Things grew stale, they stopped working. Lily got needy, she felt as if she were the one who was in the wrong. On their four-month anniversary, Emi got her nothing at all, and Lily should have broken up with her then.
Instead, she'd just frowned and pouted, aware that she was to blame, that there was something wrong with her. People shouldn't need gifts, shouldn't want to be passive. They should want to be equals. It was sexism of some strange sort that even with another women, she expected to be the one that…
She disgusted herself, and if even she was disgusted, then how was it possible for anyone else not to hate herself. Maybe she deserved it. Her body was… well, she wondered. Was she just falling into some other type, when she tried to exercise? Or…
It was hard to see herself through the recriminations, to see what others saw in her, and harder still when Emi was so beautiful, with the kind of dark eyes that…
That was another problem: her feelings weren't pure. Though that was okay, right? Maybe.
Maybe not.
Instead of breaking up with her, Lily held on. Two weeks later, Emi broke up with her. "You're so… passive, like you need me to rescue you. I'm fourteen, Lily. I can't rescue you, and I can't afford to waste--"
Waste what? Her time, her money, her everything? On someone not worth it.
A week later, Lily triggered.
*******
July 20th
Bryce looked at her, "Where are you going? You going to see the Pack?"
"Why?" Lily asked, frowning at him. His leg was in the floor, and he was holding himself up a little awkwardly. He still didn't have a hand, though there was talk about convincing Panacea to work with that. She'd been a little busy, and while he'd lost a hand, he was otherwise intact, a young boy that no doubt just wanted things back to normal.
"I just wanted to, you know. I saved her, you know that, right?"
"I was unconscious," Lily said, uncertainty, not sure where this was going. There was definitely a sacrifice made. She'd heard the story… twice now, actually, of him attacking the Butcher. He'd saved lives, yes, but that wasn't enough. She'd learned that long ago in her own relationships. You couldn't just have a single amazing moment and go home. You had to keep on providing, keep on proving that you weren't some vulnerable freak, some stupid, stupid…
You had to smile as much as possible and make posts online, you had to be perfect and you had to be seen being perfect. She had a social media presence, she had duties, she had obligations, and so did he.
"...well, I did," Bryce said. "I want to, I should talk to them."
He sounded desperate, and Lily wondered again, frowning a bit. "Do you have a patrol coming up soon?"
"No. While I don't have a hand, they're not going to let me. But… I can't just sit around here."
"You can't?" Lily asked, not sure if this was true. "Do you really want to go out there and fight again?"
"No! But… I need to do something," Bryce said. "Can you tell her that I'm, uh. That I'm alright."
"I can do that," Lily said, though a part of her suspected that what she was actually trying to pass on was something coded and strange, something that that couldn't provide. Respect, perhaps. But she couldn't promise that. She was pretty sure she didn't want to promise it, either. But… respect was certainly something hard to come by.
*******
Ten days before she fought Behemoth, she stared at the tall, blonde-haired girl who she'd been dating. Christine was beautiful, and so totally and completely out of her league that it was absurd. Christine was also… like. Probably the girliest person Lily had ever dated, not that that was a bad thing.
But they both wanted to be treated, and they both expected the other person to make it equal, so there was always this odd balance. This imperfection.
"This isn't working," Christine said. "I don't know what… you've told me what you do, but that's not enough, is it?"
"What isn't?"
"You come to our dates exhausted and… it's just. You…" Christine wrung her hands in the air, in a gesture of frustration that she knew she'd caused.
Lily had let down a girl who was smart and funny, popular with everyone. Her first, and thus far only, white girlfriend, her skin pale, her features fine.
Lily wondered if it was that or the fact that she was a she that most offended her parents, who knew but didn't approve. That was the story of their life and her: knew but didn't approve.
But of course, there were things they didn't know, but they'd approve of none of them.
She'd started having dreams, fantasies. She'd been kneeling, and there'd been orders,there'd been… there'd been a lot of fantasies, and it was… it was all just a symptom of some larger disease, some larger perversion.
Lily said, "I what?"
"You're just not right for me. You're a great girl, but you can't… I don't know. You're weird. You're a freak. You want… more than I can give. And you aren't giving me anything in return. I don't think I can keep on dating you."
"Okay."
"And that's another thing, you don't fight. You don't fight anything, anywhere, anytime."
********
'You have to understand,' Legend said to her, to everyone there, 'That there's a reputation that Wards have. You're all exemplars. Obviously, we're not going to be revealing your family background, but people see you and they picture themselves as you.'
He was pale too, with perfect teeth, handsome, if Lily was even remotely attracted to guys. He seemed like the kind of person… well, she knew plenty of her friends who'd gone through crushes on Legend, which of course was probably the most futile thing a person could do.
'So, you're young kids, you're women, you're men, you're Japanese-American, Chinese-American, African-American… you're gay, you're straight. You're a model, and what matters most of all is demonstrating to the world what that means. There's a limit to this: nobody expects you to be perfect, at least nobody who matters, but you need to understand where you are and what you're doing. You can't mutilate a gang-banger just because his boss nearly beat you up in a fight. You can't harass other Wards, or other civilians. If you use slurs against people, you will be on notice.'
Even by then, she'd realized that there were things you could do and things you couldn't. That was to say: some evils could be ignored, while others would be punished. She'd seen it already. People could do a lot… until they got caught. Until they were seen the wrong way. Everything could be forgiven, until… nothing could be forgiven.
She watched, frowning, and knew that nobody should ever know the things she dreamed at night, the things she could call her partners, the things she could be. The things she wanted to do: or rather, the things that she dreamed of, were wrong.
She deserved everything. Maybe she'd just never fall in love again. It'd make things easier.
Even at the time she'd known it would fail, but.
******
"I… stop this. Just, go. If you're leaving me."
"I am," Christine said. "I don't know what you need, but I'm not going to keep on trying to get it for you. Good luck."
She turned, she left. Like someone who had a life ahead of her, which was more than could be said for Lily.
When the call came for people to go fight Behemoth, she almost didn't go. It'd been the plan for her to fight in at least one Endbringer fight, after she'd agreed to do so, because her power seemed like it could be effective.
But it was her choice. She could have said no.
She almost did.
When she said yes, she left and hoped things would be alright.
...and saw golden hair. Another white girl, but beautiful, even without seeing her face, just… just. Lily couldn't help but be drawn to her. But she knew it wouldn't work.
*******
She still knew that, five nights later. Five different acts, and yet no commitment. She wasn't brave enough to ask to share in Sabah's life. She didn't deserve it: Sabah had a future, and she was a nice girl, a good girl… if a very, very beautiful girl who truly knew how to--
Lily wasn't going to hope for the future, or hope for someone to save her. The world didn't work like that. But while she was here, she wasn't going to give it up. She was needy, she was pathetic, she ached with thoughts and ideas that she couldn't express, because she knew how Sabah would view her fantasies, her thoughts.
She'd understand that Lily was unacceptable.
But even so, she found herself loving Sabah and she couldn't help it. The way she shook her head a little when she was clearing away a thought, such a little physical gesture. The slight smile she had when she was thinking of some idea while working on costumes. The care, and yet the obvious… power of the costumes she tried out on Flechette. 'They're just test-costumes' she said, and yet, Lily felt as if they were a mark, a badge.
She hated that she felt that way, because it'd just disappoint her.
She loved Sabah's hair, her laugh, her smile, she loved the philosophy she occasionally talked, that one time when she'd… uh. Drank a little bit. Because she was older than Lily. She was smart as a whip, and people just saw that she was short and missed that too. They thought she was just a kid.
She wasn't.
Lily didn't know how to say this, that Sabah was the most amazing person she'd ever met: or at least, that's what she'd say if she could say it.
But she knew she couldn't. She knew it was doomed.
So she held her love tight in her chest, as well as her doubts, her fears… and Bryce's words.
All equally hopeless.
******
A/N: Thanks to @NemoMarx. Pack, B will be out on Thursday.
Pack--1 (Stefanie)
July 12th
She woke slowly, her memories and thoughts swirling and mixing together, and yet never quite coming together, like a recipe that was started and then left half-finished. Her memories felt… she didn't know how she'd gotten here or why she was here, but mornings were like that, sometimes.
Stefanie didn't like them, even as she did try to get up early enough to get one over on them. She felt hungry, her stomach hurt, her head felt like cotton, and there was something wrong that she couldn't quite place.
Besides this, there was the beeping up something. A monitor? It was the sort of sound that made her think of the silly hospital dramas her mother watched, back before…
There it came. Memories, though they felt like dreams. She'd… gotten powers. She'd hesitated, she'd gone out.
She'd almost been killed.
Stefanie had been saved, had taken up a name, Pelter.
Then there was the camp, Arachne and Bitch, the rest of the team, Cassie coming and suddenly making everything better, and then things getting…
That's where the memories seemed to make less sense. She tried to open her eyes, but she wasn't strong enough for that. The Butcher had been a threat. She remembered that. But after that.
The strange woman with the endless supply of powers had been their greatest enemy. Or it'd been hers. She remembered a fight between Rachel and Taylor, as she'd stood off to the side and tried not to feel out of place worrying about the love life of two of her teammates.
Stefanie tried to open her eyes once more, and then gave up, sinking back down into the sheets.
When she again became aware of the world, it was a little less heavy. A little less absurd. She was still hungry, though, but also tired, in that drowsy way a person got when they'd had too much food.
...she had far too little experience of being sick to really have the right comparisons. Groaning, she opened her eyes.
The beeping seemed only louder, and there in front of her were--
She blinked.
White walls, check.
Maybe she should make a list of what she was expecting and what she wasn't, because one of the things was a dog.
In the corner, Taylor Hebert and Rachel Lindt were sitting, neither of them in costume, though Taylor had on a black domino mask that hid nothing. And at their feet was a dog. She didn't know which one, because…
She liked dogs. Dogs were nice, but that wasn't the same as being as obsessive as Taylor and Rachel were.
Then there were her parents, right next to the bed. Mom, round and soft, her eyes brimming with tears. "Honey, are you okay?"
Mom pressed herself up against Stefanie, and Stefanie wanted to hug her back. But she was too tired, still.
"Let her have some space, dear."
And then there was… Amy Dallon. The memory took a moment to pull up. A moment too long. "Can you understand me, Pelter?"
"Yes," she said, and then she realized she was thirsty, her voice a rasp.
"What do you last remember?"
"I… think we were going to fight the Butcher?" Her head hurt, and her memories seemed to dance away from her when she tried to reach them, like they were kids at school, playing some cruel prank.
"Your short-term memory might be negatively impacted. I was able to get your brain back working, but there's only so much brain mass," Panacea said, defensively. "I think that's all. Bad short term memory, but if there are any changes to emotional affect, or how you feel in any way, that's something you need to tell me, so I can figure out how to fix it. I'm still working on this."
"Still working on this?" Cassie asked.
Because there was Cassie as well, her bright, energetic blue eyes rounding on Amy was she bounced forward, towards the bed.
"I didn't do brains," Amy said.
"We've agreed not to pry," Taylor said, in this soft chiding voice that almost made Stefanie want to laugh.
"Ah, right, sorry," Cassie said, frowning and looking away.
"What happened?"
"We won," Rachel said, bluntly. As if that was the only answer needed. Stefanie frowned and sat up slightly, though it took up far too much of her strength, and she almost felt faint after that.
"We defeated the Butcher. They're in the Birdcage now, or on the way, and being kept unconscious on the way. Which is probably not…" Taylor hesitated, and clearly meant something about legality.
Well, it did seem pretty sketchy, but at the same time it was the Butcher. Stefanie nodded her head. "And?"
"You were hurt. Brain damage," Cassie said, and there was a note of panic in her voice at even the thought of that.
"Who else was hurt?"
"Too many people," Taylor said, stepping closer. She felt as if she were being pressed in from all sides, as if they were going to lift her up and carry her away. "But… all of us are alive. And that's what matters. Even B… Phase is alive, as is Kid Win. Though--"
"Bryce?" Stefanie asked, then realized she shouldn't have blurted it out. She shifted a little, and said, "Oh. I… who's watching the camp?"
"We can do that, sweet-pea," Dad said.
She blushed. The idea of him using that nickname in front of all her friends, it was enough that she wanted to disappear, or go back to sleep.
"I can help too," Cassie said, eagerly, leaning forward. "I was really worried about you. Everyone else is already out of the hospital, though Flechette is being watched."
"Oh," Stefanie said, looking over at Cassie, and thinking about what she should say. "Thank you for helping."
"It's the least I can do," Cassie said.
Stefanie remembered the crush that Cassie so clearly had on Rachel, and the way that she'd devoted all of her time and energy to the team and making sure that things worked out. The way she invested so much. It was brave. And sorta foolish. But mostly brave. "No, it's the most you can do," Stefanie said, shaking her head.
"Well, maybe."
"I'm… tired," Stefanie said.
"Well, it's the evening," Panacea said, thoughtfully. "Maybe tomorrow?"
********
"What can you remember?"
Stefanie's head hurt, and she hated how the hospital gown looked on her. "Green… twenty-something, blue, red, two…"
"Green, twenty four, purple, red, two," Panacea said, frowning. "I think that the damage isn't as bad as I thought it could be. But you'll definitely need to find a way to deal with the memory problems. I would, at least."
Cassie wasn't there, because of course there was a camp to look after, there was so much to do. She needed to be strong. She couldn't stop now. She was a hero, and… she had a camp to look after, for as long as it remained.
As long as it took before the world to go back to normal.
"Thank you for what you've been doing."
"I can help you, even if I can't help others," Panacea said, frowning.
"What?"
"I held myself back, I didn't do brains because I was afraid of what I was," Panacea said, absently. "It was stupid."
Stefanie didn't say the truth, which was that she understood the idea of limiting yourself. But of course she couldn't, she was too weak to ever survive if she did that. She was just a child, and she wondered if she'd ever stop feeling that way. Feel like she was in control. "I… couldn't ever afford to hold back."
"Neither could I," Panacea said, bitterly. "It's not your problem, though."
It wasn't, it really wasn't. But Stefanie felt like she should ask, like she should get to know. But… how to bridge the gap?
There was a new recipe and no room in the oven. She bit her lip. "If you ever want to talk…"
"No. Thank you," Panacea said, though she didn't sound like she meant it. She said thank you and meant buzz off.
That was all that she could do.
*******
She got only one hospital meal before she went home, and staring down at it she really was curious about the weird dichotomy.
The stereotype she'd always heard was that hospital food was horrible and dull. But her Mom had friends who worked in that field, and so she wasn't surprised when she was able to get meatloaf, potatoes, collard greens, and even some cornbread.
They had to have food for basically any sort of dietary requirements, and so what was in front of her was quite edible, and it reminded her of some of the meals her Mom would have whipped up for her when she couldn't afford to put in a lot of mental effort… but did have time to spare.
Most of the time, what her Mom fed her was always so fine, food that, like taking your child to art galleries and letting them explore their tastes, allowed them to develop her own… understanding, she supposed.
Of course, the fact that she had developed a taste for food, and good food at that, probably had something to do with the fact that she, as some 'friends' had remarked, 'Could stand to lose a few pounds, you'd be so much prettier if--'
Leaving all of that behind was certainly one of the more welcome parts of becoming a hero.
So here was food. She ate it, frowning, almost wishing she'd ordered a desert. Because it wasn't bad… it just was made in a bit of a hurry. She thought that maybe it sounded sentimental: but food made with passion just tasted differently. Some of it was just ingredients, of course. Some of it was flair. But she kept up the eating, her parents downstairs finishing up the paperwork to take her out of here… out of here, but back to her job.
That's the way she needed to see it. It was her job. That made it easier to go back to, to continue doing. If it ever stopped feeling like her job, helping people…
The door opened.
Cassie, humming, wearing a cute pair of jeans and a T-shirt for… Deadguy, some band that Stefanie had never even heard of, stepped in. She moved with a sort of rhythm, as if she were in a musical, as if her every movement was blessed.
Maybe it was. The Deadguy logo was a skull, and it was such an odd choice.
"Hey, Stefanie. I thought you'd want to know how things were going. Things are going great in the camp. With the Teeth collapsing, we're sorta… going out. Well, not me. Going out and reclaiming the territory there. Some people who want it are going home, but most of them are staying in the camp."
"You need to find a third apartment building," Stefanie said. It'd been on the list of things that she'd needed to do. But of course, most of them weren't safe. Perhaps the lower floors could be safe enough for temporary habitation?
"Yeah, we do. I was going to ask for your help with that, since you're so much better at me than--"
Stefanie was surprised at the flattery that came so easily to Cassie. She let her talk for a little, and then said, "I'll do what I can do. But I'm sure you have it in hand."
"Well, I mean. Rachel and Arachne aren't much help. They're busy getting the dogs back to the shelter, and dealing with… all of those problems. And with each other," Cassie said, though the look on her face wasn't exasperated.
"Oh."
"I even brought a bribe so that you'd help!" She pulled a sea-salt caramel chocolate bar from her pocket. "What do you say you add some desert to this boring hospital food."
"It's not boring, it's functional," Stefanie said. But she held out her hand to take it anyways. She always loved good chocolate. "How did you know I'd like this?"
"I asked your Mom. If you don't mind me doing so?"
"You did. But… I… thanks." She didn't know what to say. She'd never had a friend who would do something like that. They'd always been… distant. School friends.
Stefanie looked down at the chocolate bar, and then opened it up slowly, smelling it like she was a wine connoisseur.
A good brand.
Then she split it in half. "Here you go. Let's share the duties."
"Yeah. That'd be nice."
So, there it was. "So, the third apartment. Besides the lower stories of the buildings, there are other options, because I've noticed that Arachne's range is only getting better. Plus, with the collapse of the Teeth, there doesn't exist a major threat, especially not one that we can't just deal with if it shows up. We have to mass-produce more of those radios, is G… Artificer able to work? If he is, then…"
********
Pack--2 (Charlotte)
July 15th
They met in one of the apartments, this time. There were bugs there, of course, but Charlotte had long since gotten used to being seen. Most of the time. She didn't know if she'd ever really be completely used to it, but was she supposed to complain?
Would she always be marked by her experiences, and by her powers? That's the way it worked, she thought, looking around at the circle of people ready to talk. When she imagined eyes on her, looking at her, naked and helpless, when she pictured all of the things she could be, and all of the things she was, she could feel very helpless.
Even groups unnerved her: groups like these reminded her of her trigger, of her power.
Yet she gathered them together anyways, because she was a glutton for punishment, someone whose suffering had always been indirect. She hadn't been touched but briefly, but she'd watched others suffer, her eyes hard, her heart dead.
Weigh it on the scales in the afterlife, and some dark God would declare that she deserved damnation. Weigh her inaction, her words when actions were all that would suffice.
Weigh that she'd watched as Taylor had been pulled from the locker, hadn't done anything then, hadn't been able to do anything until it was almost too late.
And when she did?
It was an act of hubris, an act of controlling others when you couldn't even control yourself.
She didn't understand how Taylor forgave her, and more than that, seemed to forget everything. Not just the use of powers, but the inaction, the failures so deep and broad that they seemed like they could dominate her life.
Her life. Taylor's life.
But they apparently didn't? Charlotte didn't know how to feel about that. Surely it was wrong to feel like you should be punished more?
They began to talk, and she was caught up in the cadence of people to talk to, people to help. This support group had problems. Cynthia clearly had untreated mental illness, and there were problems that a therapist could help with.
Charlotte had even looked through the list of registered psychotherapists in Brockton Bay. There was a long list, apparently even after the Endbringer came. They went all up and down the alphabet, from Ayers to Vane, and ranged the gamut. Sex therapists, gender therapists, therapists dealing in married couples exclusively… there were so many options, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to choose just one.
She wasn't sure if she liked being in charge, even of herself. But if she wasn't going to take charge with her powers, she…
Rachel was right there.
"I've had a tough time, lately," Charlotte said when it was her turn to talk. "I've worried that maybe I'm not going to be… content again."
"Content?" Beat asked. She looked as if she was always on the verge of objecting to something, but that was the mystery of faces. A person could look disagreeable, and just look it. How did you read eyes and see souls?
"There was the fight with Butcher, and everything else, I've told you about that, the failure, the…"
She'd been forgiven. But who wants to be forgiven so easily? So many people, but none of them worth much to Charlotte. "I don't know what to do, there."
"What about… you've talked about your trigger before," Beat stated. "What about your life is… replicating that? That's the terminology right?"
"I know what it is," Charlotte said. "Being watched. Being judged… or not judged."
"Not judged?"
Charlotte laughed. "Isn't it silly?"
It was, wasn't it? It was the kind of absurd mindset that she'd thought she was past. She was helping people, she was a hero, so now. Now why was she still not satisfied.
******
Another woman would have been embarrassed by absurdity of her actions, but Taylor Hebert was so oddly confident, so oddly composed for someone who'd gone through what she did.
Some people would have balked at the hypocrisy of confronting someone who had expressed distaste at being watched… based on information that had been gained from surveillance.
But there she was, blank-faced, but with her eyes conveying something. She smelled of dogs, but she always did. Sometimes even after baths. It was just a constant… aroma. Charlotte had learned to get used to it, mostly, and she wondered if Taylor even noticed it, except when it got too strong and she bathed it off. Very temporarily.
Taylor had been over by the Shelter, and yet here she was.
"I'm sorry if I've been making you uncomfortable."
"You're sorry? You're sorry, and I'm never guilty," Charlotte said, and then blinked, stunned by the bitterness of her own words, which seemed to choke in her throat.
"You're very guilty, at times. But so am I. I can't fucking judge you like you want me to," Taylor said, with a smile. "I don't think it's very fair, but the world isn't fair. But I'll stop watching you if it helps."
"...but there's security concerns, aren't there?" Charlotte asked.
"Of course there are. The Undersiders are still out there, including… Imp. Yes. Though we might not remember her, come time." Taylor shook her head.
Charlotte didn't know what had changed, but Taylor seemed different ever since she'd killed the Butcher. More decisive, more incisive, vicious but tempered with something strange and a little bit threatening. She worked harder, and faster. She stared off into space, and yet her body was watchful.
It was bizarre, really. "Come time? Are we going to fight them too?"
"Eventually we'll have to. They have their vials, they have a small gang, and they're going to be expanding some. We know all this. But at the same time, you're right. I don't want to fight them if I don't have to." Taylor shook her head and crossed her arms.
Another difference. She was finally stopping with the long-sleeves, which she'd worn basically anytime she wasn't in costume. So Charlotte could see the tan already building up on her arms. It was hard to know what it all meant.
Though what it definitely meant was that Charlotte would probably be remiss in commenting on, say, Taylor's bare legs, and the virtues of a spa treatment.
"You might have to. They're going to be just as hard as Coil… or they'll be overthrown, won't they?"
"Maybe. You don't think villains can do any good?"
"I do, but… is she one of them? Are they going to be part of something that can last?"
"How would I know? But I'm going to at least give her a chance not to disappoint us all."
"Ah," Charlotte said, "Like you…"
"Yeah. Like I gave Rachel a chance."
That wasn't what Charlotte meant, but she knew a dismissal of the topic when she heard it, and she knew that there was only so much you could argue about.
So she nodded, and tried to tell herself that things were still good.
The world moved on. She needed to do so too.
Pack--3 (Lily)
July 14th
The Director's desk was clear, as if she had no paperwork at all, and yet her eyes seemed to say the opposite. That she'd cleared a mountain just to have room to deal with Flechette. Lily tried not to be nervous, but she was very aware that Piggot could do any number of things to completely ruin her life.
And what could she do in return? All she could do was, perhaps, quit. But then would she be allowed to? And she certainly didn't want to. She imagined what her parents would say, their disapproval that wouldn't need words to be expressed.
Just a cold look, a shake of their heads. She wondered whether it was their thoughts that she was needy, and worthless. She licked her lips, a nervous habit, and tried not to look away as Piggot looked onward.
Those grey eyes seemed to pierce straight through Lily.
Piggot knew. Knew that she was selfish, and even though she couldn't, Lily wondered what else she might know.
"You might well have died. Phase has lost his hand, and Kid Win almost died as well. If you had merely waited a day or two more, we would have dealt with her, and without having to kill someone while we were at it. Though the outcome is positive… or at least, there were worse outcomes possible, that doesn't excuse fully what you did. If it had failed and you'd lived, I would have suspended you as soon as the Butcher crisis was done with."
"Instead, you've captured all of the Teeth--"
"Except Animos," Piggot interrupted, and her eyes told Lily that Piggot had an idea of where Animos was.
"Yes, except Animos," Flechette said. "I did good work."
"So, you're not suspended, or on probation. But you're going to be taken temporarily off the roster of patrols, until we can figure out how best to use you, despite…"
"Despite, ma'am?" Lily asked, as if she were the long-suffering and dutiful Ward, rather than the one who'd abandoned it all for love and a dangerous fight.
"Despite your compromised state."
"Compromised?"
"The Undersiders and the… Pack worked together. The Pack is not a villainous group, but they've clearly accepted certain biases towards Hellhound--"
"Bitch," Flechette said, and then she blinked, startled at her own insistent phrase. Arachne was getting to her.
Piggot's expression seemed to be almost amused. After all, Lily had just proven her point. "Be whoever she wants to be, that doesn't matter."
"They'll stand against the Undersiders," Lily insisted. "Please don't worry, Director."
"It's my job to worry. Do you want to be suspended? Would that help you understand where your priorities lie?"
"I know where they lie," Lily said. "We've beaten the Teeth, Coil's gone. Dinah's rescued, and they're not exactly calling you out on the fact that you hesitated."
She realized that she'd raised her voice slightly.
"It was proper caution, approved of by all of our analysts. If you had waited, we could have coordinated with the… Pack."
"It worked," Lily said weakly.
"So, in addition to the Undersiders, there are still a few small gangs that have popped up, not necessarily Parahuman. I could assign you specifically to patrol the docks."
Lily tensed, and tried not to object. Because if she did, that meant she'd definitely get sent there, as far from Sabah as possible.
"You could," Lily said.
"But I will not. Perhaps a closer relationship with the Pack is needed in order to encourage them to stand against the last major villain threat in Brockton Bay. Or perhaps they aren't a threat. If so, you could return to New York."
She hated this feeling. It was bizarre, because it wasn't like she did anything good with power and control over her life, but this sort of helplessness wasn't welcome at all, it was the kind of feeling that didn't make her…
Just another way she was broken, just another way she was imperfect. That the same emotion could feel right and wrong in different circumstances.
"I think there is work we could still do. For now we need to restore order in the rest of the city, and… the Pack isn't taking credit."
Which was a mistake. Or rather, they weren't insistently pointing out the truth, which is that the Protectorate had tried their hardest, but they hadn't been able to beat the Butcher, while the Pack had. It was that simple. But… instead, from what she'd seen of her online followers, it seemed split fifty-fifty. It was controversial, it was an argument, and if it was like that online, then the average person of Brockton Bay probably thanked the Protectorate and only the Pack as an afterthought.
And whereas before she would have thought that's just how it worked… now she didn't think it was fair. It was wrong, even.
But… what could she do?
"This is good," Piggot said. "You are dismissed. Consider your loyalties, and try to convince them to end the Undersiders, and we can finally have a city free of villains."
Her eyes sparked with ambition. With a drive that no doubt would end in ashes.
Lily didn't shudder, except on the inside.
********
Lily shuddered at the feelings in her stomach as she stumbled into her house. She'd said yes!
She licked her lips, her tongue brushing against the braces she still wore. In six months, she'd have powers. But for now, she just felt giddy and light.
Emi was lovely, Emi was kind, Emi's Mom was an Asian-American activist, someone likely to understand, maybe, the fact that Lily and Emi were a couple. She opened the door to her house and went to the couch. Latchkey for Life, she thought, grinning so broad that her face actually hurt.
She was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, her clothing comfortable… nothing like what she'd thought she'd needed in order to impress girls. She'd only been out to herself for a few weeks, by now, and she'd read her way through a lot of media, especially online. It was amazing, how much you could find.
Articles about Legend, articles about New York and its gay history, it seemed as if there was just all of the affirmation in the world. Her parents weren't… great, but they'd come around eventually, right? Surely they'd understand, if she put it the right way.
She was reading a lot, and she knew how to do relationships by now. There was a way you could have fair, healthy relationships among equals, and she'd do that. They'd split the bills, and hug, and give each other gifts, but never ones that either of them couldn't afford, though… Lily was poorer than Emi. Solidly middle-class, rather than part of a family that could have sent her to a private school if they felt like it.
But that wasn't a big deal. She'd find a way to pay her own way, even if she had to… she giggled at the thought of paper routes and all the things you saw in old stories. It wasn't that way, she was fourteen, she'd just have to ask for an allowance. Her parents wouldn't like it, but maybe they'd give in if she…
She didn't know what to say, biting her lip and thinking giddily. There is a magic to the past, but it's a twisted, broken magic.
It's the magic of knowing you didn't know the future, and yet wanting to do so. She had to remember this moment in the context of what came.
The way that she kept on hoping that Emi would treat her to a meal, or that she'd give some gift, some token that proved they were real once it turned out that Emi wasn't out to her Mom. Wouldn't be. But would be out with the world, in at least a few ways.
They kissed. They kissed a lot. She had that going for her. But Emi always leaned back, as if… as if Lily should be ravaging her.
Things grew stale, they stopped working. Lily got needy, she felt as if she were the one who was in the wrong. On their four-month anniversary, Emi got her nothing at all, and Lily should have broken up with her then.
Instead, she'd just frowned and pouted, aware that she was to blame, that there was something wrong with her. People shouldn't need gifts, shouldn't want to be passive. They should want to be equals. It was sexism of some strange sort that even with another women, she expected to be the one that…
She disgusted herself, and if even she was disgusted, then how was it possible for anyone else not to hate herself. Maybe she deserved it. Her body was… well, she wondered. Was she just falling into some other type, when she tried to exercise? Or…
It was hard to see herself through the recriminations, to see what others saw in her, and harder still when Emi was so beautiful, with the kind of dark eyes that…
That was another problem: her feelings weren't pure. Though that was okay, right? Maybe.
Maybe not.
Instead of breaking up with her, Lily held on. Two weeks later, Emi broke up with her. "You're so… passive, like you need me to rescue you. I'm fourteen, Lily. I can't rescue you, and I can't afford to waste--"
Waste what? Her time, her money, her everything? On someone not worth it.
A week later, Lily triggered.
*******
July 20th
Bryce looked at her, "Where are you going? You going to see the Pack?"
"Why?" Lily asked, frowning at him. His leg was in the floor, and he was holding himself up a little awkwardly. He still didn't have a hand, though there was talk about convincing Panacea to work with that. She'd been a little busy, and while he'd lost a hand, he was otherwise intact, a young boy that no doubt just wanted things back to normal.
"I just wanted to, you know. I saved her, you know that, right?"
"I was unconscious," Lily said, uncertainty, not sure where this was going. There was definitely a sacrifice made. She'd heard the story… twice now, actually, of him attacking the Butcher. He'd saved lives, yes, but that wasn't enough. She'd learned that long ago in her own relationships. You couldn't just have a single amazing moment and go home. You had to keep on providing, keep on proving that you weren't some vulnerable freak, some stupid, stupid…
You had to smile as much as possible and make posts online, you had to be perfect and you had to be seen being perfect. She had a social media presence, she had duties, she had obligations, and so did he.
"...well, I did," Bryce said. "I want to, I should talk to them."
He sounded desperate, and Lily wondered again, frowning a bit. "Do you have a patrol coming up soon?"
"No. While I don't have a hand, they're not going to let me. But… I can't just sit around here."
"You can't?" Lily asked, not sure if this was true. "Do you really want to go out there and fight again?"
"No! But… I need to do something," Bryce said. "Can you tell her that I'm, uh. That I'm alright."
"I can do that," Lily said, though a part of her suspected that what she was actually trying to pass on was something coded and strange, something that that couldn't provide. Respect, perhaps. But she couldn't promise that. She was pretty sure she didn't want to promise it, either. But… respect was certainly something hard to come by.
*******
Ten days before she fought Behemoth, she stared at the tall, blonde-haired girl who she'd been dating. Christine was beautiful, and so totally and completely out of her league that it was absurd. Christine was also… like. Probably the girliest person Lily had ever dated, not that that was a bad thing.
But they both wanted to be treated, and they both expected the other person to make it equal, so there was always this odd balance. This imperfection.
"This isn't working," Christine said. "I don't know what… you've told me what you do, but that's not enough, is it?"
"What isn't?"
"You come to our dates exhausted and… it's just. You…" Christine wrung her hands in the air, in a gesture of frustration that she knew she'd caused.
Lily had let down a girl who was smart and funny, popular with everyone. Her first, and thus far only, white girlfriend, her skin pale, her features fine.
Lily wondered if it was that or the fact that she was a she that most offended her parents, who knew but didn't approve. That was the story of their life and her: knew but didn't approve.
But of course, there were things they didn't know, but they'd approve of none of them.
She'd started having dreams, fantasies. She'd been kneeling, and there'd been orders,there'd been… there'd been a lot of fantasies, and it was… it was all just a symptom of some larger disease, some larger perversion.
Lily said, "I what?"
"You're just not right for me. You're a great girl, but you can't… I don't know. You're weird. You're a freak. You want… more than I can give. And you aren't giving me anything in return. I don't think I can keep on dating you."
"Okay."
"And that's another thing, you don't fight. You don't fight anything, anywhere, anytime."
********
'You have to understand,' Legend said to her, to everyone there, 'That there's a reputation that Wards have. You're all exemplars. Obviously, we're not going to be revealing your family background, but people see you and they picture themselves as you.'
He was pale too, with perfect teeth, handsome, if Lily was even remotely attracted to guys. He seemed like the kind of person… well, she knew plenty of her friends who'd gone through crushes on Legend, which of course was probably the most futile thing a person could do.
'So, you're young kids, you're women, you're men, you're Japanese-American, Chinese-American, African-American… you're gay, you're straight. You're a model, and what matters most of all is demonstrating to the world what that means. There's a limit to this: nobody expects you to be perfect, at least nobody who matters, but you need to understand where you are and what you're doing. You can't mutilate a gang-banger just because his boss nearly beat you up in a fight. You can't harass other Wards, or other civilians. If you use slurs against people, you will be on notice.'
Even by then, she'd realized that there were things you could do and things you couldn't. That was to say: some evils could be ignored, while others would be punished. She'd seen it already. People could do a lot… until they got caught. Until they were seen the wrong way. Everything could be forgiven, until… nothing could be forgiven.
She watched, frowning, and knew that nobody should ever know the things she dreamed at night, the things she could call her partners, the things she could be. The things she wanted to do: or rather, the things that she dreamed of, were wrong.
She deserved everything. Maybe she'd just never fall in love again. It'd make things easier.
Even at the time she'd known it would fail, but.
******
"I… stop this. Just, go. If you're leaving me."
"I am," Christine said. "I don't know what you need, but I'm not going to keep on trying to get it for you. Good luck."
She turned, she left. Like someone who had a life ahead of her, which was more than could be said for Lily.
When the call came for people to go fight Behemoth, she almost didn't go. It'd been the plan for her to fight in at least one Endbringer fight, after she'd agreed to do so, because her power seemed like it could be effective.
But it was her choice. She could have said no.
She almost did.
When she said yes, she left and hoped things would be alright.
...and saw golden hair. Another white girl, but beautiful, even without seeing her face, just… just. Lily couldn't help but be drawn to her. But she knew it wouldn't work.
*******
She still knew that, five nights later. Five different acts, and yet no commitment. She wasn't brave enough to ask to share in Sabah's life. She didn't deserve it: Sabah had a future, and she was a nice girl, a good girl… if a very, very beautiful girl who truly knew how to--
Lily wasn't going to hope for the future, or hope for someone to save her. The world didn't work like that. But while she was here, she wasn't going to give it up. She was needy, she was pathetic, she ached with thoughts and ideas that she couldn't express, because she knew how Sabah would view her fantasies, her thoughts.
She'd understand that Lily was unacceptable.
But even so, she found herself loving Sabah and she couldn't help it. The way she shook her head a little when she was clearing away a thought, such a little physical gesture. The slight smile she had when she was thinking of some idea while working on costumes. The care, and yet the obvious… power of the costumes she tried out on Flechette. 'They're just test-costumes' she said, and yet, Lily felt as if they were a mark, a badge.
She hated that she felt that way, because it'd just disappoint her.
She loved Sabah's hair, her laugh, her smile, she loved the philosophy she occasionally talked, that one time when she'd… uh. Drank a little bit. Because she was older than Lily. She was smart as a whip, and people just saw that she was short and missed that too. They thought she was just a kid.
She wasn't.
Lily didn't know how to say this, that Sabah was the most amazing person she'd ever met: or at least, that's what she'd say if she could say it.
But she knew she couldn't. She knew it was doomed.
So she held her love tight in her chest, as well as her doubts, her fears… and Bryce's words.
All equally hopeless.
******
A/N: Thanks to @NemoMarx. Pack, B will be out on Thursday.
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