[Thank you for your interest, Mrs. Dallon. I’m sorry, but I am afraid we must decline.]
Carol reread the reply email again, ruthlessly tamping down the urge to do something violent. She had spent a not inconsiderate effort on carefully drafting her initial inquiry to the W’s regarding engaging their services, and she did not appreciate their response. It was not that they had denied her request. She had expected they might, given their reputation of being selective. It also was not that their response was brief, a mere sixteen words long. It was a common enough practice to use formulaic rejections, though she would have thought an inquiry from someone with as high profile as she had in the Northeast would have warranted a tailored denial.
It was the immediacy of the reply. She had only sent her request—she glanced at the time stamp then the clock on her computer—seven minutes ago! That meant one of two things. Either one of the W’s had happened to be reviewing their email shortly after she had sent hers, or they had an alert set up to notify them of specific keywords that necessitated immediate reply. Regardless of which, it implied Meteor had gotten to them first.
“I thought I’d find you in here.”
“Alan,” she greets with a soft sigh, finally tearing her eyes away from the email in favor of her red-headed colleague and friend leaning against the frame of her open office door.
“Ah. Is this a bad time…?”
Carol waved away his concern and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the chairs she kept for clients, which he accepted. The chairs in question were made from a square and boxy frame of cherry wood, their smooth, cream colored cushions the perfect middle ground between comfortable and not. She needed her clients visiting her office to be comfortable but able to focus on the task at hand. That philosophy extended to the rest of her office as well. Smart, sophisticated furniture that did not lose sight of its intended function, that appropriately conveyed her and her colleagues’ reputation as one of the preeminent firms in the Greater Bay Area, as people who get the job done. An L-shaped desk of hardwood cherry with a smattering of personal effects like a family picture from a few years ago, things to paint her as someone approachable. A small table between the chairs and a twin set of shelves behind her cut from pale wood that created a sense of cohesiveness with the cream walls and make the cherry wood pop. Her degrees hung with prominence behind her in cherry frames, a reminder as clients spoke with her that there was a reason she was on her side of the desk.
“Just some unfortunate news about my personal case.”
“Surely not? You only served the girl yesterday!” Alan shook his head with a incredulous quirk to his lips. “I still can’t believe you did that yourself, even with backup.”
Carol held her tongue on that topic. She had intended for her family to be her actual backup, and the less she thought about that betrayal, the better. Even Dauntless and Boudicca’s presence was unofficial, intended to give the impression that the PRT were on her side. The reality was, unbelievably, that they were not. Chief Director Michelaki had unequivocally sided with Legend that Meteor’s status as “hope bringer” was somehow too important to prosecute the girl for murdering her daughter. If Meteor had not made enemies of Dauntless and Boudicca, then Carol would have been alone that night.
Better alone and on the side of justice than with sycophants who would allow a murder to go unpunished.
“It is,” she answered instead, answering his question in lieu of remarking on serving Meteor. “Are you familiar with the W’s? You may know them as Watcher and Watson.”
“I think so. Rogues, right? The one has some sort of defensive power, and the second makes the other super smart?”
“Superhuman deduction skills.” Carol hadn’t meant for her correction to come out as sharp as it did. “Sorry. Stressed.”
Alan didn’t appear particularly bothered, which was a small relief. “It’s okay. But I’m confused, you know as well as I do that the rules of discovery heavily curtail evidence procured by parahuman means. Why would you hire a pair of rogues for your case?”
She took a moment to compose herself before explaining, “That’s true. But I could have used information from them to more directly target my efforts through more readily admissible channels.”
She pointedly did not mention that it was the W’s who Legend apparently had called in to verify Victoria’s claims of Amy’s guilt. The problem was, that was the extent of what she knew about that moment. The aftermath of an Endbringer battle was always chaotic, and that day in particular had been especially so. If anyone had camera footage of the incident, they hadn’t shared it online or even come forward about being in possession of it. There were plenty of people she and her attorney would be subpoenaing for depositions, chief among them Legend himself, not to mention Meteor and the rest of her band of mercenaries, but she would much prefer to get the information straight from someone who saw the whole thing firsthand as soon as possible.
Someone like Victoria, who had yet to come home. One more worry atop a mountain of them.
Alan shook his head. “You’re going to get her, Carol. This is a slam dunk case, Meteor is liable for Amy’s death. The worst she could do is counter sue, and you’re pretty well covered there.”
“I’m not oblivious to what you’re doing, Alan. It’s good to focus on the positives, but that doesn’t mean I should ignore the negatives. Like how I can’t get the New York DA to pursue a criminal conviction. Like how getting a civil liability judgment against Meteor doesn’t…” Bring my daughter back, she didn’t add, only belatedly tempering her sharp response.
“Can you blame me?” He seemed to age a decade with the words, settling back heavily in his chair. “These past few months have been… difficult for me too.”
“Of course,” Carol agreed, her expression softening with sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
Alan waved away her apology, eyes on the floor. “Don’t be. We’re friends, Carol. All I’m saying is we’re in this together, yeah? We both want what’s best for our daughters.”
“Yes…”
The silence hung over the office for a moment more before Alan lifted his gaze again, a smile in place. She politely chose not to comment on how obviously strained it was.
“You helped me with the prep work for Emma’s case, it’s only fair I do the same for you. What do you need?”
----------------------------------------
Fugly Bob’s was busy for a Tuesday night but still had several empty tables, one of which Missy had claimed. A booth with an old, solid wood bench that had her unconsciously sitting upright for comfort. Her stomach felt like it was going to eat itself and not just because she was hungry.
It had been eighteen days since she’d last seen Therese, since the other girl left to face down an Endbringer and the threat of losing her soul. It might as well have been ten months, so much had happened. Meteor, a relative newbie in Faultline’s band of mercenaries, had revealed she’d been sandbagging hard. Amy Dallon had been murdered by said cape, right in front of Therese, no less. Then Therese took the transfer to New York while already there. Then Therese quit, joining up with the girl who could apparently wipe a city off the map.
Missy had already been feeling a mite bit nervous. The unexpected, unwelcome conversation she’d had right before arriving was the icing on the cake.
Missy saw Therese first. She shot her phone a filthy look before setting it down on the table and waving to draw the older girl’s attention. Therese smiled in relief and came right over to take the seat across from her, depositing her jacket on the wooden bench of the booth, but she floundered, seeming lost for words.
To be fair, Missy didn’t quite know what to say either. She eventually ended the silence—the relative silence, that is, the restaurant being quite noisy between the patrons and the game on the TV—with a simple, soft, “Hi.”
“Hey,” Therese finally replied, finding her feet.
For a second, neither of them said anything further. Therese’s gaze drifted down to the table, a troubled expression clouding her face. Missy swallowed thickly, giving her space to think and tried to focus on her relief and happiness seeing her friend. She didn’t know if it would make any difference, but she didn’t know for sure that it wouldn’t either.
Missy had wanted to go to the fight against Nothung. She’d tried to convince her parents, told them she would just be search and rescue, but they wouldn’t hear it. She should have been there. Everyone kept telling her it was okay, but it wasn’t. She should have been there when Therese’s soul was on the line. Should have been there to say goodbye. To talk her out of becoming a mercenary. And the chance had come to try and make up for not being there, but everything was fucked, and she was going to lose her completely and—
Missy forced herself to take a deep, definitely not shuddering breath. Positive emotions. Therese had come. She wasn’t dead or a soulless pawn. Missy had a second chance at goodbye.
“We can talk about anything you want,” Missy managed to say. “Or nothing if you’d… rather not.”
Therese’s severe expression softened, her eyes rising from the table back to Missy. “It’s been a while since I was last here. My heart has yet to recover.”
“Cholesterol will do that to you,” Missy agreed with a sage nod, happy to follow Therese’s lead. “But this is the Bay. Live fast, die young.”
That startled a laugh out of Therese. “You know, I would kill for some loaded tots right now. Could we split an order? I’d feel better about indulging.”
“Absolutely,” Missy agreed wholeheartedly before a thought occurred, making her frown. “You aren’t… strapped for cash, are you? Because I can pay for whatever you want. My treat.”
Therese grimaced just a bit, a chink in the veneer that everything wasn’t fucked. “I’m fine for now, actually. Despite treating me like I don’t exist anymore, my par— My credit card is still active. So I’m good for now. May as well enjoy it while it lasts.”
Missy hesitated a beat, debating if it was the right time to bring up that particular elephant in the room. Which was telling, when the person on the other side of the conversation was Therese. The other Wards had all guiltily confessed behind closed doors to being unable to fully trust Therese. Well, except for Sophia, who had always been abrasively upfront and just generally a giant pain in the ass. Missy knew she ought to feel bad for thinking ill of Sophia with how things ended, but it was still difficult to care.
Uncertainty. The other Wards all felt it about Therese at one point or another, but it had never been more than a flash for Missy, never longer than it took her to remember that if Therese was using her power to try and say what other people wanted to hear, then that meant she cared about Missy’s opinion of her. It was sad just how few people actually did, but right from the start, in both word and act, Therese had always cared.
“A lot going on up there.” Therese’s eyes flicked to Missy’s head with a rueful smile. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Missy said without reservation. She meant it and knew Therese could see as much. “I was thinking about how nice it is to know somebody cares.”
“Lots of people care about you, not just me.”
“I was also thinking,” Missy continued, not wanting to linger on that topic, “that I don’t like the sound of ‘fine for now.’ Your new… crew. They are treating you right?”
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
Therese brightened a bit. Not nearly as much as Missy would have liked. As much as Therese deserved. “They are. But things are a bit difficult right now. Faultline… died in the battle. I don’t know if you knew?”
Missy nodded solemnly and politely did not comment on what that meant. Therese didn’t either, instead adding, “She meant a lot to a lot of people. They depended on her. Financially. Emotionally. More for some.”
“I can imagine,” Missy said. And she could—now. When she first joined the Wards, she would have had a different answer. The world was more black and white back then. She didn’t know what she would have thought of Therese joining… “Um. On a related topic. Everyone’s always called them—” She couldn’t say ‘you,’ not yet “—Faultline’s Crew. What, uh. Y’know?”
“TBA,” Therese remarked, a coy edge to the gentle curl of her lips. She leaned forward, looking down at the table. “A lot of the group’s support structures have been burned down, so we’ve been working on what comes next. All of us, together. Things got a bit more complicated when Carol waltzed in and served Meteor, during Faultline’s funeral, no less.”
“You’re joking,” Missy hissed, scandalized by Carol’s timing and thrown by the fact Meteor was being sued at all. Which wasn’t to say Missy thought Meteor was innocent, per se. The girl hadn’t been mastered into killing someone; she had killed someone who had mastered her. There was a difference.
But what Missy did or didn’t think about the morality of Meteor’s actions was irrelevant because one did not just sue a Hopebringer. It was one of those things that simply wasn’t done, like how everyone ignored String Theory’s past as a villain when she struck down the Simurgh. And yet… heroes and villains left each other alone around Endbringer battles. Nobody would come if they thought it would be putting themselves in harm’s way. So what did it mean if a Hopebringer murdered somebody?
Some days, Missy wished she could go back to living in that pristine black and white world she used to believe in.
“I wish I was,” Therese replied. “I can’t prove that she knew about the funeral, but I got a glimpse of her aura when she was told. She was not surprised.”
“That’s gotta make things really difficult for all of you. I wish things had ended differently, but… I’m not sure I can blame Meteor for reacting the way she did either.” Missy shook her head for a moment, then leaned forward as well. “Either way, Carol shouldn’t be fucking suing Meteor about it.”
Therese’s lips curled down, her expression souring, and Missy feared she had overstepped. More than she already had. She didn’t doubt that Therese agreed, but… Missy looked down at her phone on the table, screen still unlocked and where she’d left it on Therese’s side of the table.
Missy couldn’t read the note displayed on it, not upside down from her perspective, but she knew what it said. She’d written it, after all. Victoria is on the phone. Called me right before I got here and begged me to let her hear for herself that you’re okay. I’m sorry. We can leave, go, whatever. Just say the word. I’ll help you get away if she shows up in person.
Therese sighed, the darkness in her eyes draining away until there was only weariness left. Missy reached out, offering her hand, wanting nothing more than to shoulder some of that burden. Therese reached to take it only to pause, hesitating.
Missy pulled her hand back and looked away, frustrated with Victoria for putting her on the spot like this—frustrated with herself for agreeing to it. It had already been difficult, being friends with them both when things had ended between them so badly. Missy should have told Victoria to get lost. Instead, she had convinced herself she could thread the needle, make both sides happy. Give Victoria what she needed without betraying Therese’s trust, maybe get Victoria to see Therese hadn’t been hurt by Amy like Meteor was—give the two of them a gentle nudge towards reconciliation. If that was even possible.
Stupid, she thought. Stupid and selfish.
Therese’s hand, still partially extended, ducked down to pick up the phone and bring its microphone closer to her mouth. “I imagine Carol is going to claim Meteor is unforgivable, a monster who needs to be held accountable. But I was there, saw it all, saw what they felt. Amy wasn’t ashamed; she was relieved. Meteor was horrified and apoplectic at what Amy did… but at least she was ashamed when she murdered Amy. You tell me what’s worse: The person who committed an unforgivable sin and tried to bury the truth, or the person who did the same but turned herself in, who stayed in custody that couldn’t hold her when even the heroes told her she should be free? Amy tried to bury her mistake, and while Meteor is struggling, she’s trying—succeeding—to be better every day.
“That’s the difference, and Carol doesn’t see it. It’s… not okay when mistakes were made. But… I can find it in me to forgive someone who’s genuinely sorry and doing whatever they can to make up for those mistakes.” Therese swallowed, her throat bobbing with the motion. “If someone could help Carol see reason and get her to drop the case… That would mean a lot to me.”
Therese hung up, then slowly, tremulously set down the phone between herself and Missy. She stared at it, as if unsure she had really said or done any of that. Neither said anything for several long minutes, a bubble of silence in the otherwise bustling restaurant.
“You just tried to manipulate Victoria,” Missy eventually said. Therese either didn’t know what to say to that or else had nothing to say in the first place. “I did not expect that.”
Therese’s lips parted with a soft click of her tongue, her admission of, “Nor me,” as distant as her gaze, boring a hole in the innocuous phone on the table between them with its intensity.
“Did you mean it?”
Therese finally looked up, meeting her eyes. There was something haunted in them, reflection of something long gone that lived on in the other girl all the same. “I may have… embellished. But only a bit. Meteor is trying hard to be better, but some days are better—”
“You’ll forgive her?” Missy cut her off. “After what she’s done, you’ll actually forgive Victoria if she gets her mom to drop the case?”
Therese shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
“I said it would mean a lot to me, and it would.”
Missy bit her lip, slumping back into the solid wood, the unyielding pressure buoying her enough to say, “Just. Please don’t lead her on? The way she treated you was disgusting. I’m not saying she deserves your forgiveness. But I don’t think she deserves to be used either.”
Whatever response Therese might have had was precluded by a shadow falling over their table. It was a girl around Therese’s age, an employee, judging by the branded t-shirt featuring a logo of fries and a burger in front of a large, block letter “FB’s” on the opposite side of where she had attached a plastic name tag.
“I’m sorry, but if you’re not going to order food…” the girl started to say, her words full of false regret and peppiness, only to trail off, thought left incomplete as she changed course altogether, eying Therese. “Hey, aren’t you…?”
“… getting food?” Therese said with attempted nonchalance. But her tone was off, the words too obviously forced and nervous. “Yes, sorry, we just got caught up—”
“O—M—G,” the employee barreled ahead, almost breathless with a sudden excitement. “You’re G—!”
“That’s fine, we can head out!” Missy loudly said, speaking right over the girl.
Her volume drew the attention from the people seated nearby, but not, she hoped, as much as the idiot loudly proclaiming Therese is Gallant. She grabbed her phone and jacket, slid out of the booth, and took Therese’s hand, dragging the other girl after her as she moved with purpose to the exit. The employee was saying something, an apology maybe, but Missy wasn’t listening, wasn’t stopping. Out the door, down the sidewalk—she didn’t stop until they were far away, near halfway to the Boardwalk.
Missy finally let go of Therese, dipping into a bus stop shelter and dropping heavily onto the bench as steam finally left her, the icy cold of the metal immediately sinking its twisted fingers through her jeans. She pulled her jacket on as she eyed the copious red and black tags with distaste. If she had thought there was somewhere less tainted nearby, then she could have maybe mustered the energy to keep going. There wasn’t. Without the ABB around to provide a second front, the Empire’s presence in the city had gotten progressively worse to the point that the city was practically theirs. As much as Missy hated to admit it, the heroes were losing ground, and losing heroes like Therese made everything worse.
“I’m sorry about that,” Missy breathed, the words half spoken, half sighed. She wasn’t tired, not from power walking several blocks—she could do that in her sleep from the exercise she got as a Ward. But she was spent. Empty. All the adrenaline from their hasty flight draining away and taking her energy with it.“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Therese replied, the words a whisper swallowed by the perpetual din of the city.
Missy turned bewildered eyes on Therese, her confusion only amplified by the unadulterated shame evident in her expression, posture, everything. “You have nothing to be sorry for though?”
Therese looked away, eyes down and haunted. “More than you know.”
“So they aren’t treating you right.”
“I didn’t—” Therese didn’t turn back to Missy, but she hesitated then sighed, eyes softening. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to think,” Missy hissed. She could have reined in her frustration, hidden how helpless and angry she felt. Except she couldn’t, not from Therese. So she let it out. “You had the chance to go to New York or wherever, finish out school and graduate to the Protectorate, and you quit. That’s— it’s not good, but it’s fine. They were dicks and put you in a bad place. Quitting is understandable. But you’ve joined a— a mercenary group, and now you’re being vague as hell about everything, and I just— I don’t know what you expect me to think.”
“I triggered. Again.”
Missy didn’t know what response she had expected, but that wasn’t it. Therese had more to say, kept half-starting to say something before aborting. Confused. Unsure. Eventually, Missy retook the steering wheel.
“What does that mean, ‘again’? I know it’s rare—happened to Narwhal, I think?—but what does that mean? What does that have to do with any of this?”
Therese finally found her words again, voice quiet as she explained, “It changes your powers. My emotion sense is weaker, but it goes further, sees people I’m not looking at. And my— my blasts, are, um… Different. P-Permanent.”
Therese said that last word so faintly, Missy almost thought she had imagined it. Almost. Suddenly, everything made sense. “Whoever it was, you didn’t mean to.”
“I didn’t,” Therese agreed, distant. She was shaking, Missy realized. “I was just— She was afraid. Shutting down.”
“Tee—” Missy started, rising to her feet.
“I— I thought I was just giving her some confidence, just helping her focus on what was important, and—”
“You didn’t mean to do it,” Missy soothed. Whatever else had happened, she knew that much. Therese would never do anything like that knowingly, not without permission. But did they know that? Meteor and her people?
Terror reared its ugly head. Meteor had murdered Amy for doing that. Therese said the girl was ashamed of what she had done, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t do it again. Wouldn’t punish Therese in some other way. “Are you safe? They aren’t forcing you to do anything, are they?”
“No!” Therese vehemently shook her head, readily enough to be reassuring, if not especially. “No, and I told her— Meteor. I’m talking about Meteor. I told her what I did. That I hadn’t known how it worked yet, that I’d only gotten the feeling it would last longer not… not that it wouldn’t stop.”
Therese ran a hand through her hair, fingers tugging at her curls, as she added, her voice unsteady, “First Philadelphia, then Amy, and now me. She doesn’t deserve this. And on top of everything else!”
She could have meant Faultline’s death, but Missy didn’t think so. Or at least, not just that. But pressing for more info wasn’t what her friend needed right then.
“You made a mistake. It’s not okay, but as a wise woman and good friend of mine once said…” Missy began, trailing off expectantly at the end.
Therese laughed, quiet and reflective. “Right. You’re right.”
Missy bumped hips with the other girl, drawing another reflexive flinch from Therese. She ignored it as best she could, drawling, “Say that some more?”
Therese rolled her eyes good-naturedly, a proper smile finally beginning to claw its way up out of the frown that had dominated her friend’s face most of the night. “You’re so right, Missy. Truly, any question I have, I should just ask you because you are always right.”
Missy puffed her chest out, chin up and expression one of feigned self-importance. “Yes, yes, it’s true. I’m just glad you see that now,” she declared only to break down into giggles, unable to keep a straight face for a second longer. Therese joined her, soft at first, but soon the both of them were losing it so hard that when the bus pulled up and dropped off a mother and her child, the woman hurried away, casting suspicious glances over her shoulder at them.
Missy just waved the bus driver on, not caring about the stares. She was determined to enjoy every second of this while she could.
“I’m sorry about the touching,” Therese admitted some minutes later when they finally lost steam. “The accident with Meteor happened like that. Can’t help getting anxious now.”
“You were touching, huh?” Missy replied, trying—and failing—to waggle her eyebrows. She succeeded in startling another laugh out of Therese regardless, so she viewed it as a success.
“Oh my god, stop that! You look like you need to pass gas or something!”
“There’s the Tee I’ve been missing,” Missy said with a grin and a laugh of her own. “The girl who unironically says, ‘pass gas’ instead of ‘fart.’”
“You have been spending too much time around Dennis,” Therese deflected, shaking her head with a wide smile. “If you must know, I was hugging her— do not give me that look, oh my god, it was not like that!”
“You’re making this too easy,” Missy crowed, kicking her feet back and forth, for once not bothered by her continued lack of a growth spurt. Her phone’s alarm began chirping, and she pulled it out, mournfully turning it off. Time to start heading back to her Dad’s place. “Never did get that meal.”
“Sorry about that,” Therese replied. “And thank you for covering for me. Hopefully that will get better, now that Gallant is gone.”
Missy’s eyebrows shot up. “‘Gone,’ huh?”
Therese stepped out of the shelter, eyes rising to look at the moon overhead while the February air ran through her curls. “Yeah. He was just a mask in the end, a facade I made to try and appease my parents. I tried to salvage him into something more me, but…”
She shook her head and returned her gaze to Missy, a tight smile on her face. “Easier to just make a whole new facade instead. Thank you for inviting me out. It was good talking.”
Missy suppressed the urge to move in for a hug, but she took a step forward, a step closer. “See you soon, Tee?”
“Absolutely, See.” Therese began to glow pink, the light quickly spreading over every inch of her, becoming a full-body mask. Then she took off running, jumping from the sidewalk up onto a nearby roof after a moment and bouncing between buildings until she was out of sight.
“‘See’?” Missy muttered. It took a second to click. Miss-see. A smile found its way onto her face, small and tentative. Hopeful.
She’ll come back, Missy told herself. Keep the faith.