Dan woke to an unfamiliar ceiling above his head and a familiar warmth snuggled against his chest. It was his first morning at Summers' Manor, and it was as pleasant as any he'd had in his life before. Abby had claimed for herself an entire wing of the mansion, far from her quarrelsome cousins. It was quiet, and as homey as a gargantuan fortress could be.

It was in these quiet, peaceful moments that Dan found time to reflect upon his recent actions. He regretted how he had handled things with Bartholomew, though certainly not the result. It was the impulsive need to move, to do, to act, that Dan needed to gain control over. He was starting to think he'd course corrected too hard from the passive, lazy man he'd been in his old life.

Inaction couldn't always be weakness. Sometimes, it was just patience. Fear had driven Dan forward; fear of handing over the initiative, of trusting others to do things for him, of losing what he'd gained. Fear had seen him cast aside what he'd thought were his morals, and done things that, while he didn't regret, he had certainly never wished for.

Dan didn't want to be ruled by fear.

Something had changed in him, and it was worth thinking about. Many months ago, Dan had considered joining the APD. It had seemed a reasonable enough fit for his goals at the time, make a difference, help people, things of that nature. But the APD's default response to superpowered crime was violence, and Dan hadn't wanted to kill people. That had apparently changed.

He considered that for several minutes, just staring blankly at the soft blue ceiling and extravagantly decorated fan mounted above him. This was a guest room in the manor, not Abby's old bedroom. While her belongings were scattered about, she'd clearly unpacked them here. It wasn't her original space, and nothing of her childhood remained. Most likely, she'd completely separated herself from this place the moment she'd decided it was no longer home. Dan admired that about Abby. Even when she made a drastic change, she committed to it wholeheartedly. It was something Dan tried to emulate, but had he gone too far, and lost bits of himself that he'd once considered important?

No, he eventually decided. Dan did not want to kill people. He didn't want to, but he no longer had any issue doing it when necessary. It was a younger Dan who had made that first proclamation. One fresh out of the Gap, taking steps in a new world with little to lose and less to protect. That was no longer the case. Dan had plenty to lose, and he'd do anything to protect it.

"Enough moping," he decided quietly. Self reflection was good, but he was done with it for today. Dan carefully stuffed his pillow between himself and Abby, letting her grab onto it like a crab. He blinked himself out of bed, stretching his arms and legs. He glanced around the messy room, taking in the scattered clothing and suitcases. Merrill slept curled up on a nearby shelf, and Dan gave the mouse a fond smile. He located his suitcase, dug around for fresh clothes and threw them on. Abby snoozed through it all, barely making a sound.

Dan set off from their bedroom, in search of a kitchen. Breakfast in bed sounded like a nice treat for his girlfriend. It really was the least he could do for putting up with him. He kept no secrets from Abby, and they'd spent the entirety of yesterday sequestered in her private wing, while Dan caught her up on his activities. She was clearly unhappy with how Dan had behaved, but had firmly postponed the argument over his actions for a later date. She was obviously furious with him, but just as obviously unwilling to vent those feelings until they'd both had some time to think over the situation. A good part of that decision had to be relief that he was alive and well, when so many others were not.

"No more," she'd begged him in the meantime. "No more running off like an idiot and doing things that could get you killed!"

How could he do anything but agree? It was a promise he intended to keep.

Dan wandered through unfamiliar halls in search of food. He'd done little exploring so far, and he was relying entirely on memories of his last visit, nearly— Dan blinked, then shook his head. Damn, it had probably been almost a year ago, now. Time had flown past him and he'd barely taken notice.

The manor had staff aplenty now, and at least one chef, none of which were actually employed by Anastasia. The Summers' matron took a very dim view of being waited on hand and foot. The only people she employed were men with guns. Her extended family was not so reserved, and given Anastasia's insistence on the family staying at the manor for an extended duration, she was forced to compromise. Abby's cousins had brought their own help, and were apparently thrilled with the opportunity to show them off.

Food had been delivered directly to Abby's room multiple times yesterday, by several different women. The... servants? Butlers? The employees of the manor all wore sleek pantsuits with the Summerset logo emblazoned on the chest. Dan tried to stay out of their way, which was more than he could say for the rest of the Summers' family.

Anastasia was an only child, as was Stanley Summers. Unfortunately, Stanley's mother was the eldest of fourteen siblings. He had a veritable army of cousins, all of whom were taken care of by the Summers family's vast wealth. There were dozens of them, and Dan was genuinely surprised that they'd all survived to adulthood. The People had made little secret of their hatred for Anastasia, going so far as to murder one of her sons and orphaning Abby and her brother Jason. Yet here were a flood of family members who remained untouched by violence.

Perhaps it was because Anastasia hated just about all of them. Some part of Dan wondered if Anastasia's demeanor would have been less prickly had she not been constantly surrounded by her in-laws. Doubtful, but it had certainly contributed the level of vitriol the woman seemed to constantly exhibit. Nevertheless, she'd done an admirable job keeping the lot of them alive.

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Summers' Manor was a fortress on lockdown. Dan could not begin to count the number of armed guards patrolling the property and its outskirts. Hard men with big guns, decked out in the kind of armor he'd seen SPEAR members wearing. The only difference was the insignia on their shoulders: a carp swimming up a waterfall. These men were Coldwater's best, and they took their job very seriously. Dan had been advised to teleport in at a very specific spot, and his photo had been taken and distributed to the men so that all would know his identity. Unknown faces wandering about the grounds were like as not to be shot without warning.

Not a bad policy, given present times. The place was about as secure as it could be without Granny Terminator herself watching over it. Dan had missed Anastasia Summers arrival in Austin by about half an hour. She'd apparently left for D.C. mere minutes after his own call with her, and was now in Dan's hometown, looking to conclude business with the People in a more personal fashion.

He hoped it would be so simple.

Dan's wanderings eventually took him out of Abby's wing, after which he inevitably ran into a family member. Abby's brother, Jason, was an oddly formal young man. He was tall and moderately handsome, carrying the regal features that Abby had inherited with a little less grace. He seemed eternally stressed, always a little too gaunt and pale to Dan's eyes. He was certainly polite enough, though sometimes callous out of haste rather than malice. He reminded Dan of a man perpetually out of his depth, and doing his best to fake it.

Jason spoke like Connor often did, bombastic pompousness couched in flowery language, clearly attempting to sound smarter than he really was. But where Connor did it because he was secretly a gigantic nerd and lacked the social awareness to understand how goofy it made him sound, Jason genuinely appeared to think it was how people of status were supposed to talk. Having a conversation with the man was an exercise in frustration. Most social cues were either missed or deliberately ignored.

Jason wasn't alone in that respect. Most of his family members spoke and acted like they'd stepped out of a medieval sitcom, every sweeping gesture and dramatic phrase clearly overcompensating for something. They weren't new money, exactly, but Dan got the feeling that none of the family had really earned their wealth. It must be somewhat frustrating to know your greatest accomplishment in life was to be born to the correct family. Especially when Anastasia so overtly detested the lot of them.

The Summers were a very dysfunctional family.

"Good morning Daniel!" Jason called upon seeing Dan, sketching an entirely out-of-place bow.

Dan wiggled his fingers at the man. "Yo. Any idea where the kitchen is in this place?"

"We have several," Jason informed him proudly. "Shall I order you a meal? I can have it delivered to Abigail's quarters directly." He began to reach for a nearby intercom before Dan could even reply.

"No," Dan said quickly. "I wanted to cook breakfast for Abby, and I'm just trying to get my bearings."

"You want to cook?" Jason asked with visible incomprehension. "But we finally have people for that! Honestly, Daniel, it makes life so much easier! You might as well take advantage before grandmother returns and sends them all away."

Dan frowned. "It's the thought that counts, Jason. It'll mean more coming from me."

Jason crossed his arms and arched his eyebrow. "I think Abigail's taste-buds might disagree. Aunt Edith pays her personal chef two-hundred thousand a year."

Well that was hard to argue with. Still, he couldn't just let it slide.

"You're not great with relationships, are ya?" Dan asked pointedly.

Jason's expression spasmed and he looked slightly uncomfortable. "I'm a very busy man, Daniel. With my responsibilities, it's perfectly normal that I should have trouble maintaining anything long term.

"And it's not like I have a great deal of options," he continued, his face heating up as Dan stared blandly back. "Not just any woman can marry the heir to Summerset. A certain level of dignity and status is required that few can match."

"Just find someone who makes you happy," Dan advised. "Life is stressful enough, no need to deliberately make it worse."

"Yes, I should just walk into the nearest fast food restaurant and ask out the first person I meet," Jason replied mockingly. It was, after all, essentially how Dan and Abby had met. Granted, Margaret had set up the meeting, but those details were secondary to Jason.

"Worked out alright for Abby," Dan replied, feeling a little smug.

"Yes, she was always more comfortable with mediocrity," Jason muttered, more to himself than to Dan.

Dan blinked at him. Would it be rude to deck Abby's brother in his own home?

Jason must have read the question on Dan's face, as he immediately stepped back, holding up both hands and apologizing. "Not that I was referring to you! It's just that my sister has always been willing to settle for less than perfection."

"That's a fine hole you've dug for yourself," Dan commented, cracking his knuckles.

"That's not— What I mean to say is that Abigail has always been at ease with suboptimal choices, and the consequences thereof. It's how she ended up working a menial job and dating a relative nobody. She is content with it. She will never once ask 'what if', nor will she look back with regret at the choices she's made, no matter how objectively poor." He paused, seeing that Dan's murderous expression had only deepened, Awkwardly, he added, "I've always admired that about her. My sister is fearless. I don't think I could have thrown away everything this family has to live out in the sticks and tend to sweaty, injured gangsters."

Dan took in his words and tried to interpret them as the compliment Jason clearly meant for it to be. He failed, and so he took a deep, slow breath. Abby didn't need him to fight her battles. Especially not while she was already angry at him. Breaking Jason's nose would only cause unnecessary drama.

He breathed again, and said, "Abby lives in one of the largest cities in the country, not the sticks. She works at a rehabilitation center, tending to overmod victims, not gangsters. And she isn't fearless. She just wanted to earn her own way more than she wanted to live in luxury."

Jason seemed genuinely confused. "Why couldn't she do both?

Dan waved at his surroundings. "Look around you Jason. None of this is yours. And what is, was handed to you by your parents and your grandmother. You didn't have to earn it. It just... fell into your hands." He shrugged. "Abby wanted something to call her own, not her grandparent's old hand-me-downs. She couldn't be satisfied with something unearned. That's the difference between her and you."

Dan clapped the bewildered man on his shoulder and strode past him, in search of the kitchen.