I tapped my foot impatiently, sitting at the little table in my kitchen. Half past ten, five minutes past when they said they'd be here. To be fair, they were coming back from a day-long patrol and probably needed to recuperate a little. I'd been held back from my last, since the director apparently hadn't had that conversation with the rest of the heroes yet. Irritating, but it was sort of what I wanted to talk to them about.
I huffed and kicked my feet, heading to the kitchen. My dinner had been light, like every meal, so I made myself a quick bit of toast with some butter. Not the most filling or delicious, but I'd done well with the bread. Maybe I could negotiate some peanut butter or preserves from the PRT...or at least some spam. Could make some damn good sandwiches with just a couple more ingredients.
A knock came at the door and I left my half-eaten toast at the table. I had to run to my bed to grab my balaclava from the table and hurriedly pulled it on. Always forgetting the basics, damn it. I flipped my hood up and jogged back to the door, opening it just in time to interrupt the second round of knocking.
“Sorry,” I huffed. “Please, come in.”
I stepped back and allowed Miss Militia and Gallant into my little apartment. They nodded politely, and Gallant smiled. Oh, the lower half of his visor could retract. Neat. Miss Militia had little wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, smiling maybe. We sat at the table and I took a bite of my food to try and ease the sudden cartwheels my stomach wanted to show off.
“Thank you,” I said once I'd finished. “For coming after a patrol. I uh, I hope it went well.” Gallant waggled a hand.
“Well enough,” Miss Militia said with no hint of how it really was. “How are you recovering from your fight with Hookwolf?”
“Oh, Panacea fixed me,” I replied with a shrug. “I'm healthy.”
“You're sure?” Gallant asked gently. “Cape fights can be pretty intense. Even with your experience, it can be a lot.”
“It's fine,” I replied with a shake of my head. “It's...the Nazi shit is worse than the fight was.” They both nodded.
“Is that what you wanted to discuss?” Miss Militia sounded a little cautious.
“Just...how it's going?” I said, shrugging. “Pi-- the director made it sound like you'd talk that day but, well.” Another shrug. I'd been benched.
“It's not that simple,” she explained. “There's a lot going on out there, Amaranth. You experienced some, of course, but things are complex. They need us in the field, and that makes it hard to coordinate a discussion like this.”
“Sorry,” I said, ducking my head. “I didn't mean to be trouble.”
“Oh it's hardly trouble,” Gallant said lightly. “And believe me, I've known plenty of Wards who were way more difficult.” I smirked a little, he would too.
“Actually,” I said, perking up. “I...well, okay, so, I don't know if I want to join the Wards or the Protectorate.” Gallant opened his mouth but I held up a hand. “Please, just...let me. I don't know the future.” Lie one. “I don't know how bad things will get.” Lie two. “But I just...being stuck would be worse.” Finally, the truth.
“But,” I continued after pausing for breath. “I want to,” have to, “work closer with you guys. The city's fucked.” I'm fucked. “I don't know how much I can help, but I can help. So...what can I do?” They were quiet for a while, long enough that I finished my toast. Finally, Miss Militia looked at me with a sigh.
“Why are you so insistent on being an independent?” She held up a hand to stop my immediate protest. “I will respect your choice, I want to understand it.” I shut my mouth again and frowned.
“My lips are sealed,” Gallant reassured me, miming zipping them shut. “I know you're worried, but trust us.” I sighed, right, he could see that.
“I...was a cadet, for a while.” That was, at least, god's honest truth, if not all of it. “I was into it but...that was sort of the problem. I was way too into it. I don't want to talk about it, but me and that stuff don't mix anymore.” Because the results were dangerous, to me more than anyone else. “I want to be a hero though, I want to...to make up for all that.” A suppressed grimace crossed Gallant's face.
Stolen story; please report.
“That isn't your fault, Amaranth,” he reassured me, driving my guilt deeper. “You couldn't have--”
“I could have,” I snapped, interrupting him. “If I'd paid attention, if I'd been smarter.” God if I'd been smarter... “There has to be something, every rule has an exception. What about...Glory Girl, she works with you guys all the time but isn't a Ward.”
“That's different,” Gallant explained, defending his girlfriend. “She's been a member of New Wave for years, a hero for years. We already worked closely with them before all this.”
“She is also considering joining the Wards,” Miss Militia stressed. “While you are opposed.”
“I still want to work with you,” I countered. “I'll follow your rules, just like I've been doing. Hell, if you want me to, I'll bake bread to hand out in my off-time. But once this is over, when things are...better, I just want out.” I sighed. I'd still do hero work, just part-time. And maybe give a certain rats nest of Nazis a visit...
“That's fair,” Gallant said, nodding. Miss Militia shot him a glare, but he continued. “I can understand your fear of authority, considering... I want to personally reassure you my Wards team isn't some dictatorship. I listen to and value the voices of my team members.”
“And the same goes for the Protectorate,” Miss Militia added, completely missing the point. What would get through to them...
“How does probation work?” They both seemed taken aback by the sudden shift in topic.
“What do you mean?” Gallant cocked his head.
“I mean exactly what I asked,” I said, a little annoyed. “What does it entail, what are the conditions?” I took a deep breath when they didn't answer right away. “Okay look, so, usually it means you guys could basically kick me out if I mess up, right?”
“It would depend on the conditions of your probation,” Miss Militia hedged.
“Yeah...so that's what it means.” I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Would it work the other way too? That when I'm done, I'm done and walk?” I wasn't about to hold out hope, being a cape I was too valuable to just let--
“The Protectorate is not the army,” Miss Militia said sharply, eyes narrow. “And neither is the Wards. If you don't want to participate, no one is going to force you.” Her gaze softened. “I know what it's like, and it's not going to happen here.” I frowned and stared at the table. Of all people, I actually believed her.
“It's a fair concern,” Gallant chimed in, echoing Miss Militia. “You're not bad or selfish for feeling like that, Amaranth, just careful. If you did join my team, I'd be sad to see you leave it but I'd sign the papers if you asked.”
“I'd need guarantees,” I said, slowly and against my better judgment. “Something in writing.”
“Any conditions would be laid out in the contract,” Miss Militia said. “It would be something to discuss with myself, the director or deputy director, Gallant, and your YGA.”
“My what?”
“Youth Guard advocate,” she explained. “An adult appointed to be your...guardian, so to speak. Not your legal guardian, of course, but in the structures of the Wards. If you're having trouble with something that you don't feel comfortable bringing to us, you can bring it to them instead.” Oh, right, I sort of forgot the Youth Guard existed. Well, they probably tried their best...
“Actually, Amaranth,” Gallant began slowly. “I'm sorry if this is insensitive to ask, but do you have a legal guardian?” I paused, thinking about who might be and not thinking about who it should be.
“Nope.” I popped the 'p', trying not to think about it at all.
“What about your father, or extended family?”
“Dad hasn't been in touch since I was two,” I replied flatly, trying to push down the churning feelings that came with that whole mess. “And considering my mom...yeah, I don't think hanging out with Uncle Adolph is a good idea, you know?” I saw Gallant flinch.
“I'm sorry, Amaranth,” Miss Militia said kindly, extending a hand. Despite myself, I took it. “I know what that's like. Remember that, as long as you're here, you're not alone.” I felt my throat close.
God I was a crybaby. I sniffed and took a series of long, shuddering breaths. I couldn't afford to deal with this right now, it was just...too distracting. I squeezed Miss Militia's hand tight, but had to consciously pull back from squeezing as tight as I could, as I wanted. Instead I clenched my opposite fist into a ball so tight my muscles began to cramp. It took five, long, dreadful minutes, but I finally got myself under control.
“Sorry,” I apologized, taking my hand away and wiping at my fortunately dry eyes. “I uh, yeah. So, um, what uh, what happens to me?” Miss Militia glanced aside.
“Normally you'd be place with a foster family.” Her eyes met mine with a look of pity. “Those services have been...disrupted. If you want, you're welcome here as long as you respect our rules, regardless of joining.” Oh. That was...actually sort of a relief. I let out a long, shuddering sigh and swallowed a lump in my throat.
“Thanks,” I said. Gallant smiled warmly. “I...should think about this. Um, do you know when they'll be meeting about me?”
“The first meeting happened this morning,” Miss Militia answered. “There is another in an hour. You'll be present.”
“I will?”
“I hope,” she said, after a pause. “One of us would have come by to ask for you, if you hadn't requested us.”
“Oh, okay.” I took a breath. “I...should probably be there.” They both nodded. “So...see you in an hour?”
“It's a date,” Gallant said with a light chuckle. I forced a small smile, just to humour him.
They said their goodbyes and headed off to...well, I guess get ready for the meeting. I heaved a sigh as I pulled off my mask. Was I seriously doing this?