Stretch lay shirtless on a towel spread out on the grass, hands behind his head and legs crossed at the ankles. The sunglasses he'd found laying around the house were doing wonders, staring up as he was at the third bright blue sky of the week. Rebecca's backyard had proved itself quite the tanning spot. His dozing was only interrupted by the calm crush of waves nearby and the whip-like whoosh of air that followed a clockwork series of claps beside him.

"I feel like this should be a little easier..."

Another clap, another whoosh. Stretch raised his sunglasses, squinting up at Red from his place on the floor. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"

"The fact I've been doing this literally all day and nothing's happened."

Breathing in, Red tightened his self-imposed horse stance, clapped his hands, and punched forward with a blow of displaced air. Spirit surrounded his body like thin translucent armor, but no matter how much he concentrated or how hard he punched it couldn't seem to leave his body. With each repetition he tried willing it to just go already, get thrown out in a ball or a beam or something, but the stuff might as well have been superglued to his body.

Stretch put his sunglasses back in place and yawned. "Most people don't get their Trick figured out for months, man. What's important is your flow's looking good. Keep at it. Gotta crawl before you can run and all that."

"I'm a crawling master right now." Breathe, clap, punch, nothing. "Ugh... How the heck do I run already?"

"Hm... Here, let's take a break."

Red took one more breath, and this time when he let it go he willed his Spirit to fade with it. His body stopped glowing and left him a tired mess, though he didn't keel over or heave as he would've only a day before. It wasn't like using his Spirit like this exhausted him exactly; if anything, it was the opposite. The process energized him so much that the relative normality he returned to at its end felt like some monumental effort even though it technically wasn't.

"Alright, teach," he said, stretching his arms overhead with a groan. "Any new tips for me?"

"First of all, it helps to rest every once in a while."

Red shot a deadpan look at the young man practically sleeping on the ground. "Speaking from experience, huh?"

"Hey, I already got my Trick down pat."

Sighing, Red plopped down in a cross legged slump beside him. The blocky stripes on his cheek almost shimmered under a layer of sweat. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon, dude, gimme something here."

"Hmmm. Hmmmmmmmm."

Red shoved him with a foot, flipping Stretch over like a burger on a grill.

The young man laughed, pushing himself to sit. "Okay, fine! Let me think here... You're focusing on your hands, right?"

"Duh."

"And you're picturing it in your mind?"

"Yep."

"Hrm." Stretch snapped his fingers. "Man, what you need is an image!"

Red frowned. "I already said I'm picturing it happening."

"No, no. When I say you need an image I mean, like..." Stretch opened and closed his hands, as if grabbing for the words. "Like a metaphor, y'know? Something that just makes the whole thing click. For me, it helped thinking about my body like it was rubber."

"Doesn't 'flying punch' count as a metaphor?"

Stretch shrugged. "Apparently not. Try coming up with a good one. Just, I dunno, sit on it for a while."

Still frowning, Red closed his eyes and just thought. A metaphor... He imagined a flying punch again, like his hands just popping out from his wrists and floating away. Maybe if they had little wings on the sides? Bird punches? His fists were birds; that was metaphorical, right? Wait, would his hands literally turn into birds? He didn't know how far this whole Spirit stuff could go but he didn't wanna risk something like that even if it would be kinda funny for a while. Little bird fists going around pecking people... Wait, no, back on topic.

What if he just stole it? Give him the Force from Star Wars, he could wave at stuff and push it from far away. Would he get to shoot lightning out his fingers then too, or would he need a different Trick for that? Wait, what if he could just turn his whole arm into a lightsaber or something? Then when he fought Hound he could just cut all the bullets in half.

"... What are you giggling about?"

Red opened his eyes, saw Stretch staring at him, opened his mouth to say what he'd been thinking, then realized how stupid it'd probably sound. "I, uh... don't think this is really working..."

"Let me guess. Star Wars again?"

"... No."

Liar. "I should've figured the whole meditation angle wouldn't work with you," Stretch said, scratching his goatee. "Let's see here... Maybe a more hands-on approach..." With one more yawn he lumbered to his feet and walked back towards the house. "C'mon, I got an idea I gotta ask Kitty about."

Red glanced at the house and leaned back on his hands. "Yeah, no thanks."

Stretch stopped mid-step and looked back with a raised brow. "Okay…" A thought crossed his mind then, one that had been ruminating for a while but now found full expression. " Y'know what, man, it kinda feels like you’ve been avoiding her."

Now it was Red's turn to lay on the grass. He fell hard, body more than equipped to handle the impact, and settled onto his side with one hand propping up his head.

"Course I'm avoiding her," Red said, and Stretch supposed he shouldn't have been surprised by the blunt admittance. "Being around her right now would just be annoying. And she's the one who's been avoiding everyone else the last few days anyway unless it's to boss people around."

"I figured this whole thing would at least make you guys pause whatever fight you've been in." Stretch put his hands on his hips and sighed. "I mean, Kitty brought you in on this, didn't she? Twenty-thousand bucks not enough to let bygones be bygones?"

"Twenty-thousand..." Red's face twisted in thought. Idly, he used his pinky to dig out an ear. "Oh yeah. That."

Stretch blinked. Red hadn't actually forgotten about that, had he? Wasn't that the whole reason he'd gotten involved with this thing in the first place? Or had it just been for the thrills?

"Look, I'm not asking her for anything 'till I get this Trick figured out," Red said. "Last thing I need is her holding that over my head on top of everything else. You go, I'll just stay out here and keep trying this thinking thing."

Shaking his head, Stretch carried on to the house, making sure to grab the shirt he'd thrown on one of the pool chairs along the way. It was plain Red felt like he had something to prove, though it was hard to say exactly what. At least it made him productive.

And the boy had made impressive progress. Some might even say too impressive. His Spirit Flow, which had started as an uncontrolled flood of psychic pressure, had been honed into a tight wall of directed force, enough that Rebecca would probably be safe to practice right alongside him when she got back from school. Red really had way too much of the stuff, and logically it should've been quite the difficult thing to wrangle it all, but instead it had only taken the better part of two days. There was natural talent, and then there was whatever the hell that meant.

Then again, Stretch was no real expert, so who was he to say what was normal and what wasn't? Fast as it was, the best thing to do now was help that process along, and the best way to do that involved playing to Red's strengths, which definitely did not include sitting around navel-gazing about metaphors.

Inside he found Roman, Baba, and Donny around the living room table playing blackjack. It had been their downtime thing all week, particularly now that Kitty had taken over all the planning, and like usual Roman seemed to be winning.

"How's the training going?" the man asked. Donny grumbled beside him, and even Baba seemed rather put out even if she was better at hiding disappointment.

"We're hitting a wall, but I think there's a good way around it," Stretch said. "Need to go out for something though."

Roman nodded toward the stairs. "Kitty has the ring."

He didn't say where Kitty was—didn't have to say it, seeing as she'd been practically glued to the kitchen for the past two days. Stretch waved goodbye and headed there, going up the two flights of stairs and passing the entrance on the way. Beside the piano he saw the big disco ball Rebecca had asked him to finally take down, an easy enough task, though big as it was now the girl was faced with the problem of where to store the damn thing. Throwing it out should've been an option, but for whatever reason Kitty had insisted they shouldn't, one of many unexplained commands everyone else had dubiously followed.

Stretch found Kitty just as he expected her: hunched over the kitchen table, staring intently at a big diagram of the León Estate, scribbling notes onto a separate notebook, eyes decidedly weighed down by bags almost as black as their irises. She wore the same clothes she had the day before, and might very well not have slept all night, though Stretch saw to his relief that she'd at least downed half a bowl of cereal.

"What is it?" she said, not looking up.

The older Ranger thought about mentioning her bedraggled state, but chances were Baba had harped on it already and that clearly hadn't helped any. "I need to go out real quick."

"For what?"

Donny came in then. He glanced from Kitty to Stretch and, noting their sudden silence, shrugged almost defensively. "Don't mind me. Just getting some grub."

Stretch watched him go right for the pantry and start rifling through their dwindling reserves of chip snacks and bread. "Just gotta go buy something for Red's training."

Kitty finally glanced up from her work, throwing him an exasperated glower. "You know leaving's always a risk."

"I'll be quick."

"If you get caught, then what? You're not expendable, Stretch."

Stretch sighed. "Kitty, you're being a little ridiculous. I'll be fine."

"It's not even for something important."

"Hey, uh..."

Stretch and Kitty both turned to Donny, who now popped open a bag of barbecue Lay's and started shoveling them into his mouth. He spoke between bites, words garbled. "M'you know... if th' problem's he's not expendable... I can go. I'm plenty expendable."

Kitty shook her head. "You'll be recognized just like any of us."

"Mmmm.... M'not if I use th' fancy ring."

"You can't use it. You're... You..." Kitty straightened up and squinted hard at Donny. "Wait, can you use it?"

Gulping, Donny sucked his fingers clean. "I think, sure, why not? I've been practicing all that Spirit stuff too."

Kitty glanced at Stretch, who shrugged back. "I haven't felt anything."

"... Here." Kitty reached into her pocket and pulled out Scarlet's ring. She held it out to Donny, its gold glimmering. "Let me see."

The man lumbered over and plucked the ring from her hand. He rolled it around in his palm, feeling the subtle buzz that came from its contact, and without much fanfare slipped a finger through it.

"Okay, feels like... something," he said, hand splayed out before him. "What should I do?"

Stretch shrugged again—the only Talisman he'd ever had access to was Jason's sword, and that thing had always seemed way too dangerous to mess around with. But Kitty watched Donny with quiet calculation, the same way a scientist might watch a lab rat.

"Try focusing your Spirit," she said. "Make that feeling you get from touching the ring grow. Deep breaths. And imagine yourself turning into someone else."

Donny closed his eyes and breathed deeply, frowning in concentration. It took a long moment, almost long enough that Stretch figured he wouldn't manage it, but then the other man suddenly wavered, his shape expanding and shrinking like in a funhouse mirror until a nearly perfect copy of Roman stood there in the room with them, dark-skinned and immaculately dressed.

Stretch stepped forward, mouth agape. "Holy shit, man."

Opening his eyes, Donny blinked over at them before raising his hands before his own face. "Holy shit, man!"

"You did it!"

"I did it!"

"He did it," Kitty muttered to herself.

"But how?" Stretch frowned, eyes closing, and tried sensing Donny's Spirit. The man stood right in front of him, but despite all his best attempts he couldn't note anything out of the ordinary. "I would've definitely felt it if you unlocked your Spirit."

"He's Clear-Eyed," Kitty said, leaning back with arms crossed. "His Spirit's already been unlocked a long time, if it was ever locked at all. It just didn't seem like it because he's lived a normal life up until now."

"Hrm." Stretch looked at Donny with narrow eyes. "Well, sorry to tell ya, man, but if that's you with your Spirit unlocked then you must not have much of it to begin with. It's so low I straight up didn't even notice."

Donny didn't seem to mind, or even to hear. The man was looking at himself through the reflection on the chrome refrigerator, hand on his chin. "This is real trippy..."

"Luckily, Talismans only need the bare minimum," Kitty said. "All their Spirit's already there. It's just about plugging yourself into it."

"Guess that's why they'd go for so much cash," Stretch said, humming.

"This is good," Kitty said, leaning down to write some more in her notebook. "It gives us more options. Maybe if we went here..."

"Er, right," Stretch went over to pull Donny away. "So, about that trip..."

"... Hm?" Kitty looked up distractedly.

"I think this would be mutually beneficial. I help Red out, and Donny practices a bit more with the ring for whatever you're thinking of throwing him into."

"Oh, right." Kitty frowned down at her papers. "I guess that's fine. Just don't stay out too long."

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"He'll be super quick, won't you Donny?" Said man, still staring at himself in a sort of reverie, gave a slow nod, and Stretch smiled. "There we go. Now, here's what I need you to get..."

- - - — MKII — - - -

When Rebecca came back, she found almost everyone else out in the backyard. Roman, Baba, and Donny served as an audience to what looked like some sort of showdown, and for a second she thought Red and Stretch had gotten into some sort of fight. Then she noted the amusement on everyone's faces, saw exactly what they were looking at, and started grinning right alongside them.

Red stood solitary, legs spread and hands held out in a constant push. His face was determined and even a little frustrated, but most striking was the fact that his entire body looked like it had been tattooed by Jackson Pollock. Blue, red, yellow, green, orange, purple, all dotted him from head to toe in explosions of bright neon color.

Then, standing some twenty yards away, Stretch raised the paintball gun and shot again. Red tensed up, hands almost gripping the air, but the bullets smacked him right in the face regardless.

Red groaned and wiped the new paint off. At least he tried—by now there was too much of the stuff to really do much about. "Hey, can you not aim at my face?"

Laughing, Stretch shouted from across the yard. "An image, man! Come up with something before I hit your eye!"

Rebecca felt her smile dim a bit at that. She turned to Baba, whispering. "He's not really trying to hit him there, right?"

The woman shrugged and spoke through a lit cigarette. "Wouldn't be surprised. It's not like getting shot anywhere else'll really hurt him much." She noted how Rebecca paled. "Eh, it'll be fine. Even if he does get his eye shot, his Spirit'll heal it quick enough." She inhaled, held, and let out a cloud of smoke. "You know, probably."

It was like she hadn't even tried to be reassuring. "This feels a little extreme..."

As they spoke, Red kept his hands played out, his Spirit out in full force. Each time Stretch shot was another opportunity, and each time that opportunity was wasted. At this rate, they'd run out of ammo before he could make any real headway.

Stretch's plan had been simple: if Red couldn't make a Trick organically, it would have to be pulled out of him by force. Instinct, that spontaneous call to action that had saved him plenty of times before, would now be put on the spot once again, taking his Spirit right along with it.

Make a wall, Stretch had said. Hit the paintballs away. Easier said than done, apparently. Red clapped and tried again to push his Spirit out of his body, form it into something solid, but again when he brought his hands up a ball slipped through and smacked against his chest.

That would be Hound on Friday, except his bullets wouldn't pop into a harmless spray of paint. Red scowled at that thought, scowled at the idea that he would be just as useless next time as he had been before.

Another clap and another shot, this time right to the palm of his right hand. It didn't feel like much—barley a press to his skin—but each time it happened served only to remind him of that night after all the gunfire when they'd all stood around helplessly as Scarlet bled out on the backseat.

She'd pushed him aside. Even now Red didn't really know if it had been worth it. Even if that bullet had killed him, at least he'd have died happy enough. Now the memory of her death would forever hang there, right along with Kitty's face, her expression molded into an absolute lack of feeling shaded by the night as if she had also, in some small way, died right then.

Red growled to himself, feeling the nibble of another paintball shot on his left shoulder. If only he could've been standing somewhere else that night. If only he could, somehow, be standing far enough ahead of himself to stop the paintballs from hitting him.

That was really what he wanted in the end. All this stuff about throwing his Spirit, pushing it out, sending punches, whatever. The frank reality was that Red would not be satisfied unless he himself sent Hound flying with a well-placed crack to the jaw. That feeling of his knuckles digging into that guy's bone was the only thing that could make up for all the shit Red had let him get away with.

He wished he could cross that distance between him and the bastard without even having to bother with advancing on the hail of bullets that would surely meet him along the way. He wished he could be in two places at once.

And then Red remembered another time he wished for the same thing. The old memory came without warning or restraint, slipping through his mind like a breeze through an open window.

He'd sat in a dirty and cramped studio apartment, watching an old TV from across that short distance. Things had gotten boring, but he'd been too comfortable on the couch to get up and change the channel.

Can you change it?

What? I'm not your servant, kid.

C'mon, please?

Ugh. Next thing I'm getting you is a remote, I swear...

He clapped, and the next shot came. Red heard it as if from a long distance away, its echo ringing long. Hands held out, he watched the paintball come in slow motion, flying towards him in a straight line, and with a sharp intake he held the image of that long-lost room in his mind.

His Spirit surged, and just as the shot came within arm's reach Red felt himself detach, some semblance of him appearing just a step ahead and planting itself like a wall before his body. It was a strange sensation, a literal out-of-body experience, as if his very being were somehow extended and coalesced in a separate form.

The paintball hit him, but it did not hit his body. Red couldn't feel the nudge, the soft splash of cool color against his skin. Instead he saw the ball hit the air in front of him, stopping and breaking apart as if it had hit some invisible snag, its streaking pieces shooting out in all different directions.

Red stared at the space where this had happened. Everyone else stared too, having just seen the same impossible thing. They stood in shocked silence, stuck in their surprise until finally Red gazed up at an equally gobsmacked Stretch. The two blinked at each other, and as their faces morphed into matching grins of sheer, joyous awe they each let out a manic scream.

"DUUUUDE!"

"YOOOOOO!"

Stretch dropped the paintball gun and the two sprinted across the yard, meeting in a gleeful, back-breaking hug that pulled as much as it pushed, both gripping each other by their paint-stained clothes and bouncing on their toes.

Their shouting continued as one layered exaltation that ultimately resulted in a shared, guffawing laugh. Nearby, Rebecca joined them in their laughter, applauding earnestly along with an equally impressed Donny. Even Roman joined in, hands coming together in a calm golf clap, and while Baba remained silent, the next drag of her cigarette hid a small, pleased smile.

- - - — MKII — - - -

Kitty heard the noise from inside. It started as a string of incomprehensible screaming, then a more structured whooping, then a bit of silence before it was suddenly interrupted by music. A pop beat not unlike the sort she'd heard during Rebecca's party some days before, probably from the same playlist. Strange.

Despite herself, Kitty was curious enough to go look out the window. She squinted down through the glass and spotted the whole group out by the pool, Stretch, Red, and Rebecca donning varying degrees of swimwear, all of them running around the edge and tossing in pool noodles. Even Roman and Donny had dressed down to uncharacteristically casual polos and shorts, setting themselves for a day out in the sun.

They were just... playing around. Literally every single one of them. Red and Rebecca she could see—the former couldn't take anything seriously, and the latter was only tangentially involved. Stretch made sense too; the older Ranger went too much with the flow for his own good, and chances are he'd just gotten wrapped up in everyone else's excitement. But Donny? Roman? Kitty felt she'd overestimated them now. After everything—after Scarlet—couldn't they see that there was no time to waste?

Footsteps behind her. Kitty turned to find Baba walk in, and to her utter bafflement found that the old woman had dressed in light linens herself, head covered by a wide-brimmed sun hat.

"Hey," Baba said, going straight to the fridge.

Kitty rubbed her forehead, the migraine she'd had all night now stabbing through all the harder. "What are you all doing?"

"The kid figured his Trick out. They started celebrating, and things sort of spiraled from there." Baba looked back and gave a shrug, as if fully aware of the absurdity in her words when considering the circumstances. "Want to join us outside?"

Red had made his Trick? That shouldn't be possible in so short a time, but Baba wasn't one to lie... Kitty shook her head. "No thanks. Red can goof off all he wants, but someone needs to actually put this plan together."

"Goof off?" Baba closed the fridge with her back, each hand holding a six-pack of beers. She set them down on the table. "I don't think you get it, Kitty. That kid's been working just as hard as you."

"For what? Some two-bit Trick?"

Baba gave her a hard stare. Grouchy and impassive as she could be, the woman had perfected this look after years of dealing with troublesome teenagers, and as much as Kitty would've liked to discount it she couldn't help flinching a little under its weight.

"You don't want to listen to me," Baba said, tone flat. "That's something you've made quite clear. So I'll only say this once. Don't you dare belittle that boy's effort. I'm not saying that to defend him, but for your own good. Something you have to understand is that Red wants to help you. That's why he's been out there day and night. Lawrence too, not to mention me. Roman's problems are Roman's problems, but what's it to us? Obviously all of this is personal for you too, and that's what we care about. Why else do you think we're here?"

Kitty looked at her, too taken back to respond. Baba sighed, a sound that rasped out with as much frustration as fatigue, but when she looked at the girl her eyes softened the slightest bit, an inkling of care behind a stern exterior. She walked over and, before Kitty could react, drew the girl into a tight embrace.

Frozen, Kitty could only stand and feel herself warm at the touch. She hadn't actually touched anyone like this since Jason hugged her the week before, and that had itself come after an equally long absence by Clover.

She missed them. It wasn't a feeling she could control. Their touch, their affection, their security. It had only been a few days, but it somehow felt like years since she'd been anything but cold and sharp.

And then, against everything, Kitty missed Malcolm too, with all his dry wit and straitlaced severity. She'd been around Baba and Stretch for the past week, but she missed them too because they hadn't actually talked in all that time, not really. Hell, she even missed Zelda, for as much of a pain as the older girl could be.

But with these feelings came guilt and fear, the same shadow that followed her in her dreams. She liked her life. It was a simple truth she could now accept with ease. Calm days at the Outpost, beating Stretch at videogames or letting Clover read to her aloud, waiting on Jason to cook dinner, having Baba always there to offer her candid thoughts. It was the sort of thing she'd never thought she could have.

It was family. A real family. One where everyone made each other happy, as different as they were and as often as they got on each other's nerves. And was that a family she really deserved? With all the blood on her hands? With how she'd abandoned Owl and Fox, all for her own selfish desires?

If she told them, would they let her stay?

Baba pulled back. "I know you're under a lot of stress, Kitty. I know it hasn't been easy for you. But you're destroying yourself, taking everything on alone. Please, let us help."

Looking up, Kitty saw the creases, the drooping eyes, the worry. Baba was old, but she never really looked old. There was always something about her posture, the hardness in her face, that made her seem almost immortal, as strong and healthy as a bear despite the years. But now something about her was withering and it occurred to Kitty that she was the cause of it.

God, what was wrong with her?

"I... Thank you," Kitty said, gently taking Baba's hands off her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I guess... I messed up again..."

She couldn't keep making their lives worse for her sake without even explaining why. If they wanted nothing to do with her after she did, that was their choice. It wasn't right for her to take that from them.

Baba examined the girl, looking hard at her face. Something in it had thawed somewhat, though as always it was hard to judge. "If you're ready to admit that, maybe you're ready to finally get some fresh air." Her nose flared, face drawing into a brief grimace. "And maybe a bath."

- - - — MKII — - - -

The party was in full swing by the time Kitty came out. Clean now, she still wore the same pants, having not committed to anything more than a brief confession.

Red was the first to spot her from his place on one of the patio chairs, hair wet from the pool, hands digging into a bowl of nachos. The rest quieted down shortly after, watching the girl make her way to them, a dark spot against an otherwise bright, colorful day. Baba was the only one not surprised to see her there, looking on with well-concealed pride.

"... I haven't been honest with you," Kitty said, trying to speak over the music. She stood uncomfortably before them, almost surrounded by the group, her back to the pool. "The reason I want to help you, Roman... It's not just because I promised Scarlet. You deserve to know. I guess you all deserve to know."

She stopped, noting their reactions. Roman, Donny, and Rebecca looked on with a sort of concerned curiosity, faces drawn together, whereas Stretch and Baba seemed almost relieved, as if they'd been expecting her to say something like this all along. They probably had been, though she'd been too single-minded to see it.

As for Red? He looked outright bored already. Almost annoyed that she'd interrupted the proceedings.

Not particularly encouraging. Kitty licked her lips, trying to focus on everyone else. "The truth is... Owl, Scarlet, and I, you already know we were part of something. It was... a cult, really. An assassination cult. We killed a lot of people together."

There. She'd said it. Rebecca looked properly scared, though that fear was joined by a similarly proper confusion, almost as if she hardly believed it. The rest of them looked grim, having likely suspected something along those lines. No one said anything yet—not to scold her, not to comfort her, not even to express any shared concern that they had an avowed killer in their midst.

"I didn't want to," she went on. "And I don't think Owl or Fo... Scarlet wanted to either. No one really wanted to. But Father kept us in line, and Hound was always there in case... well, in case anyone didn't let him."

Roman had put his hands together under his chin. "And what is this other reason you have for helping me, then?"

Kitty noted the firmness of his eyes, and she had to fight through the pause it gave her. "To help Owl. Back then... I let her stay in that place. I shouldn't have, but I did, because... because I wanted to be free. I betrayed her." The words came harshly, almost painfully as they passed through her throat, but they were true. "I want to do everything I can to make things right with her now. I don't know if it'll work, but I want to at least try. I have to. If I can just talk to her, maybe there's still something I could say."

The group looked at each other, uncertainty clear on their faces. Roman had gotten a good look at Owl himself, and he seemed the most unsure of all. Opening his mouth, he made to speak, but before he could, Red of all people stood from his seat.

Kitty watched the boy walk toward her, tensing with each step. By the time he reached her a strange quiet had completely consumed the yard; even the music had stopped, shifting through the silence between songs. His face, usually bright or stormy as freely as the feeling arose, now met hers with the kind of inexpressive mask she had once practiced to perfection against a mirror.

Then something mischievous sparked in his eyes, and without wasting another moment he reached over and gave her a hard push.

Kitty yelped, fell to her back, and landed on the pool in a flailing splash of wet coolness. Eyes closed, she felt herself floating, heard the bubbles slipping through her lips, and rose to breach the surface with a flick of her hair. "What in the—"

"CANNONBALL!"

Opening her eyes, Kitty had just enough time to raise her hands up to her face as Red slammed into the water beside her. An unrepentant wave of chlorine overtook her, making her spit and sputter and wipe her eyes clean of it in a frantic rush.

By the patio, everyone was smiling again, their surprise leading to abrupt laughter. Stretch got up and soon joined them in the pool, diving in with far more grace than the other two Rangers, and Rebecca soon went in after him with a cannonball of her own. The music returned, a bouncy guitar tune, and Red finally came back up with another splash.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Kitty asked him, too shocked to sound as angry as she felt she should.

Red glanced at her, then started paddling backward toward the edge of the pool. "I believe it's called 'swimming.' "

"Why?!"

"I've never swam in a pool before. Would've done it sooner, but I was thinking this could be my little reward after all that training."

That had not been the why she'd been asking, but Kitty got the feeling he knew that. "I don't get you. Didn't you hear anything I just said?"

Grinning, Red raised himself out of the pool with one hand and sat on the edge, feet kicking up water. "It's because I heard all that. Your past sounds like a huge bummer, but it's over now, right?"

"I feel like you didn't really get the point..."

"Seems simple enough," Red said, shrugging. "You escaped because you wanted to make a bunch of good memories instead of a bunch of bad ones, right?"

In so many words, yes, but that felt a little too reductive. Kitty was about to say so, but then Red's eyes widened, and she turned to see that Donny had taken off his shirt and was now preparing a dive of his own. The man, stout as he was, raised his hands with supreme confidence, arms arcing up at either side, then jumped with all the height he could muster.

Except, rather than dive headfirst, he hung laterally in the air before ultimately belly flopping hard on the water. Red broke into laughter, as did Stretch and Rebecca, and when Donny resurfaced face up, spitting out a fountain straight up into the air, even Kitty found herself with an unbidden smile.

"Maybe you'll convince Shadow Girl," Red said, glancing down at her. "Or maybe you won't, and maybe we'll all end up dying. Whatever happens, now you can at least say you went swimming when you had the chance."

Kitty stared at him. Red hadn't said they'd let her talk to Owl; he'd just assumed it would happen as if anything else was no longer an option. Despite everything she'd owned up to, even despite the way she'd treated him, the idea that he could leave her side seemed to not even register. Watching him now, relaxed and smiling, she thought maybe there was something to this boy after all. Something annoying, something dangerous, but something undeniably honest.

Across from them, Roman had gotten too close. Donny managed to reach over and, with a big heave, pulled the other man into the pool. More laughter followed, and to Roman's credit he seemed to take it lightly. Baba stayed well away by the patio, though Kitty thought she'd never looked so content.

"That Trick of yours," she said. "I guess it could prove… useful." When Red snickered she shot him a look. "What?"

"It's called Remote Control. And I'm just glad." Chin raised, Red thumped his chest. "This whole time I was waiting for you to see I'm worth keepin' around. Guess all it took was a little bit of magic."

The magic did help, but if Kitty was honest with herself that hadn't been what ultimately did it. Not that she'd ever tell him that. "Since when do you care about what other people think?"

"I don't." Now Red looked away, scratching the back of his head. "Unless it's a friend, that is."

Kitty's face grew hot. Leave it to him to say something so unabashedly sincere. "Idiot..."

"Hey, don't just call me—" A splash of water smacked him in the face. Wiping it from his eyes, he looked down at Kitty, who'd wisely swam deeper toward the center where everyone else now floated. Grinning, he pushed off the edge and went after her. "Get back here!"

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, laughing and playing. That night, no shadows chased her, and no dark memories hung over her mind, and Kitty slept better than she had for days. The wedding, Owl, everything—it could wait just a little while.

And then, Friday finally came.