"I'd like to hear more about what was going through your head in that moment."

I couldn't quite keep my thoughts off my face. Dr. Drovanch didn't so much as bat an eye at my sour look, their image on my phone still patient and expectant. I shouldn't have been surprised though. Our conversation had gone far worse places already. Inheriting the Chorus and Melanie's death chief among them.

I sighed. "[That this conversation has gone on long enough already.]"

I wasn't actually sure how long it had been. Time had become a funny thing over the past—I pulled the menu down at the top of the screen to check the date—three weeks. At the PRT headquarters in New York, they'd had me in a completely enclosed cell with the lights on at all times. It made sense that the days had bled together. If I hadn't had the metal on people above me coming and going and the occasional PRT officer come in to [interrogate] me, there would have been absolutely nothing to mark the passage of time. I had thought that would all end when I [finally!] got out, when I could see the sun and moon again. It hadn't. I still lost track of what day it was, what time it was. If I hadn't had an alarm on my phone and Masuyo to remind me, I probably would have forgotten altogether about my first therapy appointment since New York, since I [got trapped in this nightmare | Footloose: joined the party train!].

"It's certainly been quite long, but may I ask you to humor me?" Dr. Drovanch leaned forward, a curious, expectant look in their eye as I rubbed at my temples. "You are, as always, welcome to decline."

"S-Sure. 'S fine. I was… surprised. [Pissed.] I wanted to [bang her]—" I cut myself off, annoyed. [Footloose: Mad MILF energy.] Would you all shut the fuck up?

"You wanted to what?"

I blinked. "[I think I said that aloud]. Sorry. Footloose started to— never mind. Facade said it felt intentional, like the [cunt] knew. So yeah, I'm really pissed that [bitch] chose to do it then of all times."

"It's completely understandable to be upset," Dr. Drovanch remarked, making a note on their pad. "You were in mourning the loss of a loved one, and Carol interrupted that."

"She didn't just 'interrupt,'" I snarled, making air quotes with my fingers. "She attacked me! It doesn't matter that it was just paper. She [threw down the gauntlet], and now I'm [Butcher: wasting my] ti— Butcher, shut the fuck up. Sorry, now I'm stuck dealing with my attorney, which is it's own kind of hell. She's [Alchemist: adequate at best.]" [Footloose: a butterface.] [Butcher: a waste of time.] [Edict: fine. Seems knowledgeable.]

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to reorient myself.

"She's…" What had I been saying? "She's, uh, someone Melanie used before. Gregor knew about her. Not sure if I said."

"You hadn't yet," Dr. Drovanch replied, taking more notes. "You said dealing with your attorney is 'its own kind of hell.' Would you elaborate on that? How does it feel working with her?"

"She's [boring as fuck!]" I sighed. "Didn't mean to yell, sorry. I know she's trying to help me win my case [against that icy cunt], but it's [booooring], y'know? Doesn't help that I feel all over the place lately."

"'All over the place,'" they echoed. "I could take that to mean several things. What does it mean to you?"

[Rotlimb: What do you think it means?] [Butcher: Pointless.] [Quarrel: Fucking pointless.] [Dad: You should tell her, June. Don't be afraid.] [Diamondback: Why answer? Is there anything she can do?]

"[Do we have to keep doing this?]" I groaned as I buried my face in my hands and tugged at my hair, trying to focus on pain that should have been there, on something else, but there was nothing. I didn't have that [luxury] anymore. "[Isn't it obvious?] The Chorus. The voices. It was chaotic when I first inherited them, tough to think because of the voices [blathering on and on] in my head all at once. They've started to calm down the past few… Days? Weeks? Since a little after the Hookwolf—" I gestured arcanely with my hand "—thing. Only the worst—" [Toro: best— | Edict: insane—]

I paused. It took me a moment to realize I'd clenched my teeth. Longer to undo that, to speak again. "Them. Uh. They're the only ones who chime in as much now, but somehow it's harder to think? I keep losing track of when now is because Footloose's power keeps me awake. I don't need this too. I… think that answered your question?"

"You did. Thank you." Dr. Drovanch covered their mouth with their hand and leaned back in their chair a bit. It was harder to make out their expression on a remote feed, but they seemed [troubled | Belial: up to something].

I blinked, looking back over our conversation, only for DZ to chime in, [Dude, she's just tired. You've been at this for hours.]

Hours? That can't be right, I thought, but when I pulled down the menu at the top of my phone again, I realized just how wrong I was. I had only paid attention to the date before, not the time. It was late. Like, the next day late, if only just.

"There's one last topic I would like to address before we end our session, unless you have something you'd like to discuss first?" Dr. Drovanch continued, unaware that I had just discovered our session had gone over by three hours.

"Uh… Doc, I just saw the time. Sorry. I, uh, hadn't noticed. You need to sleep."

They waved my concern away. [Belial: Trying to win you over.] [Dad: Don't listen to him.] "I won't lie and say I'm not tired, but this conversation has been long overdue."

[Belial: I am not attempting deception.] I winced. "Sorry. Kinda lost sight of [talking to my shrink] in the middle of [this shitstorm]." [Belial: I am merely reminding you that therapy requires your trust.]

"No apologies necessary." [Belial: Whether they deserve it, however…] [Edict: Your dad's right. Ignore him.] "You've been through a lot, and that is putting it quite mildly." [Shut the fuck up] [Toro: dick for brains.] "The death of a parental figure, the loss of another, and gaining a new one." I'm trying to [Quarrel: ignore what's right—] "Being suddenly thrust into fame while reinventing how you support your livelihood and learning to work with new colleagues." No, I'm [Rotlimb/Footloose: totally] ignoring— "Being mastered by Amy Dallon again and being sued for your response."

"God, would you [cocksuckers] just shut [the fuck] up for a [goddamn] minute?!"

Dr. Drovanch hesitated. Perhaps rethinking her next words. Perhaps finding her footing after my outburst—which I realized belatedly, again, had been said aloud. "You've also been dealing with intrusive thoughts and always being watched. The final topic I want to discuss."

"Calling them intrusive thoughts [is the fucking understatement of the century]," I groused. I kneaded my temples—attacked them, really—and added, "I don't know what there is to 'discuss.' They're in my head, and they're stuck there, unless [you're holding back on] a method to get them out?"

Another pause, which Belial filled. [See how carefully they choose their words?]

"I do not have any ideas on removing them from your head, I'm afraid. I may specialize in parahuman psychiatry, but I am still, first and foremost, a psychiatrist. I will make discreet inquiries to some of my professional connections, but I cannot promise anything." Dr. Drovanch made a note on their pad. "In the meantime, I would strongly encourage you to stay with one of your teammates at all times. Would you do that for me, please?"

"Why [the fuck] is that so [damn] important?" I asked, suspicious. Had Belial planted that seed, or would I have thought that anyway?

"June, while I have been your therapist for several months, this is our first session where you can freely speak without relying on your Etch-a-Sketch."

That caught me off guard. They were right, I realized. My first appointment should have been the night Masuyo was kidnapped to conscript me into the ABB; the night Victor stole my knowledge of how to speak, an issue I had been slow wrestling with until I [inherited]. I'd used my voice some—one or twice, really—but never like this.

[Dad: Kidnapped?? Conscripted?!] [Butcher: That's what sentiment gets you, Sixteen.] [Footloose: Are we talking about roleplay? Or for real-real kidnapped? Because I'm not sure which is kinkier, if I'm being honest.]

I carefully restrained the urge to rap my fist against my head. It wouldn't do any good, and I didn't want to freak out Dr. Drovanch like I did to everyone else on the drive back from New York.

"There have been moments throughout our conversation today," Dr. Drovanch said, "where you have made odd comments or word choices. Other times you began speaking aloud to the voices, thinking your conversation was in your head."

I grit my teeth. "So? [Who gives a shit?] I don't like it, but that's 'normal' for a Bu— person in my position. [Butcher: Unworthy.] [Rotlimb: It doesn't] hurt [Rotlimb: to say the] name!]"

"Like that." I blinked, tears I hadn't realize I'd shed slipping back into my eyes. Dr. Drovanch was watching me intensely, weariness at the edges of their eyes. "There at the end, after you said 'person in my position,' you went on to say, "Unworthy. It doesn't hurt to say the name." You were all but yelling by the end."

"I… [That's getting through]? How much [weird shit] have I been saying?"

They gestured towards their notepad [where they'd been writing things about me the whole time.] [Belial: Things they aren't sharing with you.] "I've been attempting to log most of it. I definitely missed some of the earlier moments. You've always been one to speak your mind, so at first I misidentified them, mistakenly believing it an artifact from your reclaiming the ability to talk freely."

I didn't realize how tightly I was clenching my hands until I felt the unnerving sensation of my blood slipping back into the cuts my nails had sliced into my palm. "How. Much?"

Dr. Drovanch's lips pulled back into a tight smile, just this side of a grimace. "Most times you spoke. Some recent ones," they picked up their notepad, "included saying you wanted 'to bang' Carol Dallon. You called me 'your shrink,' which is a term you've never used before, though I think the most outlandish was a while ago, the first I noticed. You called Newter, and I quote, 'a sex pot in need of a good lay.'"

That startled a laugh out of me. I felt just a bit more broken than I already was. "I mean, when we first met, I did want to [find out if he changed any other colors if I fucked him hard enough], but I, uh. Amy kind of— and I wouldn't have said it quite like that."

"As you are of course aware, some powers alter or affect the mind." Dr. Drovanch leaned back in their chair, notepad ignored for the moment and stifling a yawn. "The effect can be straightforward, such as preventing you from sleeping. Examples of Noctis capes are well-documented. Others are very unique. Elle suffers from something more variable and intense, as did you prior to 'inheriting.' From what you've shared about the Chorus, I am given the impression Delible—Sarah, I believe you said her name is?—suffered from a particularly potent effect. It could be the introduction of her power into the, for lack of a better term, ecosystem of your original power has altered how your fugues manifest.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"It may not be her power at all," they stressed, "or any of the other fourteen powers. The truth may be something else altogether. Still, I believe the balance of probability is that I am on the right track. I know it has been some time, but when you first began sessions with me, you reported that your fugues were triggered by not using your power regularly but had become more frequent and regressive after your fallout with Shade, either from the trauma of the event itself or the episode of sleep deprivation after it. My memory is not infallible, so please correct me if I am wrong, but I believe that lasted for a week before Melanie and Newter forced you to break it?"

My blood ran cold. "They… the [others], they got… When was Hookwolf captured?"

"That was almost two weeks ago," Dr. Drovanch quietly informed me. "And just over a week after you inherited."

"Oh god."

"This isn't an issue we're going to resolve today, June, but we will get through it together." [Belial: Ah yes. They are integral. Naturally.] "That is why I've asked you to stay with one of your teammates at all times." [Dad: Stop that. What's natural is a psychiatrist helping with something like this.] "They know you and can help you police yourself, ideally keep track of trends that we can use to move closer to an explanation for what is triggering these moments where you're losing control."

Losing control.

Dr. Drovanch winced. "I apologize, the late hour has gotten to me. That was a poor choice of words."

"I gotta go, Doc," I said, the words an echo of some previous conversation, said because I knew I was supposed to, untethered from my thoughts. I reached for the button to hang up. "Sorry I kept you late."

"June—"

I hung up, cutting them off. I plucked my phone out of the sky, where I'd been holding it with my power and rotated myself to look down on the city. Nashville was brighter at night, no large swaths without power. Lights speckled the darkness in rivers that criss-crossed the abyss, desperately pushing back against a force they could never overcome. Somewhere down below me, my family was asleep in that oily tar. Out of reach. Beyond a boundary I could not pass.

I no longer felt cold or warmth, but I shivered all the same. I was back in New York, hiding from the madness in the dark, the blood of the creatures scurrying in the dark burning red as I cradled Elle's head in my arms and I whispered to myself, "[Are you awake?]"

"Yeah…?"

I started. The night over the city gone, traded for the brighter black of a hotel room, rivers of light traded for the cool glow of a screen. Freckles. A concerned stare. Emily, tucked into the corner of the couch, feet beneath her and headphones around her neck. [All too easy to strangle with.]

Someone was laughing, I thought. It might have been [me]. "Oh. I hadn't expected that."

Emily, it seemed, hadn't quite expected me either. Didn't know what to say. Was there a difference? "Uh, right. Well… here I am."

Belial's power flared, the blood of my family cast in red in the shadows pushing back against the light of the phone in Emily's lap. I watched the crimson ebb and flow as my legs carried me to the far end of the couch, my body curling up into its own little ball ticked into the corner. I was so much smaller without Elle's head in my arms.

"It's kind of scary," I found myself saying. I think it was me. "[And pretty]."

"What is…?"

I caught myself before I could continue. Emily's wary tone catching up with me. "Sorry, I'm— I'm not…"

What was it Dr. Drovanch had said? [Stay with your teammates.] Don't be alone [Rotlimb: where we can get out!]

Rotlimb laughed, and I almost joined Butcher and Toro in laughing along, a giggle clawing its way to the peak of my throat like bile ready to spill over. I clamped my hands over my mouth and shook my head, tears of both laughter and terror spilling over.

Emily would not have been my first pick. Whatever tenuous inroads we had begun to make towards getting along had been ruined by the fallout of New York, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Stay up with me tonight," I said. I realized, belatedly, that I'd phrased that like a demand. Not a question, and certainly not a request. "Please?"

"Uh…" Emily eyed me with [apprehension, like a bomb that could go off at any minute]. "I already have plans…"

I don't know if I kept my skepticism off my face. She had 'plans' at half past midnight? [Very convenient.] Before I could say anything, the electronic lock of the room chirped then unlocked with a click, her 'plans' opening the door.

"Hey, ready to—? Oh hey," Newter said as he poked his head through the door, coming up short when his eyes landed on the couch and saw me present. "Didn't expect you over here. Were you hanging with Spits or… uh…"

My eyes unconsciously flicked to the far bed. The once orderly arrangement of pillows and sheets, carefully assembled by a no doubt beleaguered housekeeper, had been uprooted and reshaped into a haphazard, plush mound bound together by the weighty, pearlescent comforter. Elle was ensconced in those plush depths, her veins a smudge of red light from how she was curled in on herself, presumably asleep.

A dry chuckle. It took me a moment to place as coming from Belial and therefore in my head.

Why are you laughing? I asked. Was I dead [wrong]? Or was she obviously asleep, and he found my paranoia [amusing?/Toro: hilarious!]

Emily filled the silence I had failed to, shaking her head in [negation | Belial: warning] as she [answered? | Belial: looked to the one person who can stop you.] "She just got here."

[Belial: He just needs one touch.] "Oh, right on. Your sesh run that long, or did you go out for a while?" [Dad: June, don't—]

More laughter. In my head? Had to be, nobody else was reacting, but weren't they? They were [staring] at me [Rotlimb: with disgust]. Was I laughing??

I managed to reign myself in, suppressing the urge to paw at my own mouth to [check if I was laughing | Belial: stop him from smothering you, killing you while his power makes you helpless.] I couldn't quite stop myself from whimpering at the image of Newter looming as he suffocates me seared into my mind's eye. I needed [to ignore them]. I wasn't laughing. They were still in my head [like always | Rotlimb: for now!]

Newter carefully opened the door wider, [Belial: watching for the right moment,] hesitantly coming in [to make sure I can't lock him out].

I forced myself to open my mouth, an answer on the tip of my tongue, but I held back a beat, considering. I was normally one to just speak, not plan out my words, but then, I wasn't only myself anymore.

Ignoring [the assholes] as best I could while intently focusing on what I wanted to say, I carefully replied to Newter's question, "Took a while to catch them up. Also, I need a favor."

I stopped short of asking to go with them wherever they were going, another possibility occurring. I agreed with Dr. Drovanch that it was [sensible | Butcher: cowardice] to not be alone while [the other Butchers] kept slipping in, but they had also [speculated | Rotlimb: guessed, if you ask me,] that my fugues were the reason this was happening. My memories of the last time I'd been awake this long were… foggy, but I remembered… Melanie had resolved it by having Newter put me to sleep.

Newter's tail began to swish back and forth, the tip a pendulum. [Waiting to strike.] "A favor? Sure, I'll do what I can."

[Would it work a second time though?] [Butcher: I don't know what's worse, that you can't resolve your own fucking problems or that you think the answer is having someone incapacitate you.] [Belial: No. Trust aside, is the issue at hand not because of unexpected power interactions? You do not know what would happen if the boy touched you.] [Rotlimb: Seriously? Jesus H. Christ, Sixteen, I think that's the stupidest fucking idea you've had yet, and that's saying something.] [Footloose: Listen, I know you're gonna be all, "Ugh, Footloose!" but just hear me out: You should try fucking. No, seriously! The few times I managed to catch some Z's, it was after spending all night rocking some lucky person's world and/or being said lucky person myself!] [Edict: I'm not sure you should just rush into this… My power never killed anyone, but somehow it killed Toro. For all I know, it could have been a negative power interaction.] [Deimos: Afraid to stay awake, afraid to fall asleep. Ke ke ke… Delicious.] [Quarrel: And so it goes again, Two. As you said, as it will always be.]

"Uh, June? You okay?"

"[I'm not fucking okay, and I ain't fucking anybody!]"

I clamped my hands over my mouth, but there was no point. Newter's previously rhythmic tail movements had degenerated into wild thrashing back and forth, his eyes wide, and Emily had fled the couch, pressing herself against the wall, wild-eyed. She probably would have [run like a fucking pussy] but for Newter's tail cutting through the air between her and the door, one false move away from sending her to la la land for the next eight hours minimum.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. It wasn't enough. [Of course it wasn't.] But what else could I say? What else could I do? If I [slit my throat and coated the room with my arterial spray], it would all just find its way back into me. The shitty, scratchy carpet and the soulless wallpaper would live stain-free another day, but words— Goddamn words could ruin everything between me and my family, and then I'd be [alone. Again].

Alone? But… I was never alone? Not that Jess or Mom were good company—especially not Mom. [Whose thought was that?]

It was Newter who broke the [super awkward] silence first. "Okay, no. Executive decision time: New plan."

Emily's eyes darted his way then back to me so quickly I thought I had imagined it. "What?"

"New plan," he repeated, nodding. "Dealing with this sort of shit head on is… was Melanie's shtick. I guess I was hoping I could still just sit back and let things resolve on their own, so I've been playing it chill like nothing happened, and it just isn't working. Or maybe it kinda is, but it's not enough, and she isn't here to do it for us. So new plan is— is, uh…"

"[My shrink]," I started to say when he floundered. I bit the inside of my lip hard enough to draw blood, my tongue and teeth slicking with iron for a moment until I came back together. "Dr. Drovanch," I tried again, with great care, holding the words in my head as best I could, "has a plan. [Kind of]."

"Oh thank fuck." Newter's reply was as much a sigh of relief as it was words. "Like I said, not my area of expertise. I'm all ears. What did the good doctor have to suggest?"

"They asked me to not be alone right now."

Newter's eyebrows furrowed, clearly unconvinced. "That's, uh—"

"Not a plan," Emily cut in, the pitch of her words high and tight with strain. "That is the beginning of a plan at best."

Newter pointed at Emily, head bobbing in agreement. "Right. What is that going to accomplish alone?"

"Not alone—together." The quip snuck out before I could think better of it. Newter's brow furrowed even more, which I hadn't thought possible, so I forewent planning out my words and quickly added, "My fugues. Newts, you remember how things were after— after Shade? Well, Dr. Drovanch [made an educated guess] that me not sleeping is making me [Toro: coocoo bananas] like that."

'Coo coo bananas'? Really? [DZ: I mean, he's not wrong…?] [Dad: Grow up, Toro.] [Toro: That is the only way to describe how you get.]

"I thought Drovanch wants one of us to always be with you?" Newter's eyebrows had practically melded together into a [psychedelic caterpillar], he was so confused. He wiggled his hand, adding, "Last time that happened, I had to knock you out."

"[Mama said knock you out]," I whispered, sing-song. Not my words, Footloose's, but I almost didn't mind. Oddly appropriate. I couldn't quite stop myself from giggling.

Emily gave Newter a look I could only describe as [what even the fuck??], prompting the [juicy little sex pot] to shrug and say, "I mean, not the weirdest behavior I've seen out of her when she's on a bad day."

Bad day. The words drew my eyes to Elle's cocoon on the bed. We used to share bad days—trade them. Fit together like puzzle pieces built for each other. Except I had been built for it, hadn't I? Amy's [fucked up, mind-rape perversion] making me a lesbian when I never asked for that.

"I… do remember that," Emily begrudgingly admitted. "It gets worse?"

[Footloose: Oh come on, girl! Gender's just a social construct! I'd've thought you would know that better than most. Some chicks have dicks, some dudes have pussies, and sometimes people fall somewhere in between. You like what you like, and thanks to me, you like all of them now.]

What.

Newter waggled his hand with an, "Eeeh, kinda a spectrum, but yeah, it was pretty bad back in… What, October? November? Anyway, she was up for, like, a week, and it got pretty dicey. Losing time, refused to eat or sleep, was basically in a vegetative state. Watched a lot of animal documentaries for some reason."

Foots, what the fuck are you talking about? [DZ: Surely that's come up already?] [Dad: Oh god.] [Toro: Hahaha! Oh wow, seriously? You didn't notice that yet, Sixteen? Unobservant little cock sucker, aren'tcha?]

I barely heard Emily reply, "I guess that does make sense," focused as I was on Footloose revealing what I, if I was being honest with myself, should have already figured out.

[Footloose: With all the other shit you inherited, did you really think you wouldn't get my appreciation for all things sexy?]

"Right so," Newter said, unaware of the conversation in my head and the revelation it had provoked, "let's get you back to your's and Therese's room and I'll—"

"Can I come with you?" I blurted, trying and failing to ignore how incredibly fucking hot Newter was, now that I was actually looking [at the sexy little twink]. "To the— the whatever it was."

"Oh, uh," Newter remarked, caught off guard. Emily, for her part, looked suspicious at my outburst but had at least calmed down from the primordial fight-or-flight state she had been in just a minute or two ago. "I mean, sure? Don't you need to sleep though? I thought that was the plan." [Rotlimb: Fucking wow. You were right, Nine, she didn't realize at all.]

"[My shrink], Dr. Drovanch," I started, words tumbling out of my mouth, "they were worried about power interaction with all the powers [I inherited]." [Toro: She was even calling him a sex pot, right along with Six earlier!]

Technically the truth, though they hadn't been concerned about interactions with Newter's power. They could have been, though, had the possibility of him touching me come up before I fled, and I was worried about what could happen. What if [Sarah's | Butcher: Fifteen's | Caterpillar: Delible's] power kept me awake if not lucid? What shit might I get up to if I was high as a kite and allowed to run amok? [What if I could let that gorgeous fuck boy destroy me while still awake?]

"Talk it over with the others tomorrow morning?" I added, the strangest mixture of hopeful and depressed.

Newter shrugged, his [lithe, bare] shoulders drawing my eyes. "I'm good with it. Ems?"

Emily didn't hide her hesitation, "If you think she's okay to be in public like this…? I guess."

"Hasn't been a problem in the past," Newter said. "Might draw some attention for odd behavior, but I bet everyone will be way more focused on the karaoke."

Karaoke? [Rotlimb: Oh fuck me.] [Footloose: KARAOKE!!] [Dad/Edict: Here we go…]

"[Karaoke!]"