Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of

Vaanu
Glamourchick1668
Summary:
Five years after giving herself back to Vaanu, Taylor turns up on the shores of La Huerta. The
Catalysts are overjoyed. But her return may not be as simple as it first appears.

Chapter 1: Reunion
Summary:
ACT X : RESURRECTION
Chapter Text

Jake

I woke up with her voice in my head again. Taylor. My Princess. My wife. Five years on, I can
still hear her. And not just the last message she recorded for us all as a goodbye. I can hear her
laugh. I hear her bantering back and forth with me, rallying the Catalysts with a rousing speech,
putting our enemies in their place with her voice full of venom. I hear her crying. I hear her
whispering tenderly, telling me that she loves me.

I've got her last message saved to my cloud, my phone, my computer...I even burned it onto an
entire pack of CD's because the very idea that I might ever lose her last words sends me into a
panic attack.

In the five years since I lost her, I haven't loved again. I've had cheap, meaningless sex, paid for
a few dinners, had a few bought for me. I've made friends who wanted more and who felt me
pull away once they started to reach towards the deeper layers of my heart, the layers that
belong to my family, to the other Catalysts, and the deepest, most abiding layers to her. Some of
them got angry when I broke it off. Some of them quietly gave in. One guy tried so damn hard to
save our relationship. I almost gave in to him. He loved me so much, and it was so damned hard
not to love him back. Truthfully, I did...really, I did. Or...I was beginning to. I was beginning to
think that I could open myself up again. But then I dreamt of her. I dreamt of dancing with her
on New Year's Eve at Elysian Lodge. I dreamt of our handfasting. And then the dream ended
with my arms around her and the crystal pillar until both vanished and I was left alone. I woke
up with tears strangling me. I tried to cry quietly, tried not to disturb the man beside me. But
they started coming faster and harder, and I couldn't stop myself from whispering her name
over and over until he finally woke up and heard the name on my lips.

He knew I'd been married. He knew my wife was gone. He didn't know how, because how could
I explain it? That night, he held me while I cried, and it comforted me. He was there when I left
for work the next morning. But by the time I got back, he was gone, and so were all his things.
There was a note from him on my pillow. It was long and loving and angry and it made me cry
again, but it basically said what I realized was probably the truth: I wasn't over her. I probably
never would be.

That was six months ago. I'm not sure why he's slipped in among the thoughts of her as I lie in
bed at 6am, trying to convince myself that if I get up now I won't go straight for a flask. Her last
message is playing on my phone. When it ends, I roll over and start it up again for the fifth time,
rolling onto my back and letting her voice wash over me until the part where she speaks to me
directly.

“Jake...I promised you a year and a day, and I'm sorry I won't be able to fulfill that vow. What we
had is very rare. I'm grate--”
My eyes fly open as her voice abruptly cuts off. Fear bites deep in my gut as I roll over to look at
the screen. Incoming call from...Diego. My breath shakes as I let it out. Irritation floods in,
washing away the fear. I snatch up the phone, thumbing the green button.

“Fuck you, Diego, you scared the shit outta me!”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, you asshole, I was listening! Your stupid phone call cut her off!”

There's a pause on the other end. “...Jake, please tell me you're not drunk already.”

“Fuck you. What're you doing calling my worthless ass at six in the fucking morning?”

“I need to see you. Today if at all possible.”

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. “I thought you were in California with your folks this week?”

“Yeah. I was. Now I'm in Louisiana looking for you. I'm at a motel in Baton Rouge.”

“The hell? Diego, we're all gonna be in the Caribbean in two weeks. Can't this wait?”

“No. Not really. ...It's about Taylor.”

It's my turn to pause. “...What about Taylor?”

“I don't want to say over the phone. I can make it to Pearl River in two hours. Let me buy you
breakfast when I get there, okay?”

I groan. “Fine. Fucking fine...you know where to find me.”

“Yeah. Stay off the bottle 'till I get there, okay?”

“...Fuck you.”
“Love you, too, Jake,” he replies sardonically. I thumb off the call and toss the phone back on the
pillow. I got two hours to make myself look like a functioning human being, and I'm damn sure
not getting any more sleep before then. I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the shower,
the memory of her voice still ringing in my head.

Five years since she gave away her existence to save the world. I found Mike on the other side
of the island. He was alive, and so was Lundgren, both with their memories intact, including the
memory of Mike's sacrifice. I guess it was Taylor's last gift to me. I was scared shitless to find
Lundgren alive. Every instinct told me to run, but that felt too much like spitting on her grave.
So we fought. The vision Vaanu had granted me was destined to come true. And for awhile, I
road that high. But then the knowledge that she'd never share in my triumph set in, and I was
back to where I started. I'm living alone at my grandparents' old place these days. The other
Catalysts don't like me living alone since Taylor's not with me. Mike and I lived together for
awhile, but after Lundgren's trial, he wanted to go back to his folks in Portland. I didn't blame
him. After what he went through he needed a support system, and once the trial was over and I
had nothing but my grief to focus on, I just wasn't enough. He did offer to let me stay with him.
For awhile, I did. But we were both wrestling with our own crap, and I'm not proud to admit it,
but I know I just made things harder on him. After a few knock-down-drag-out fights over
dumb shit, we both accepted that it was better for our friendship if we kept our distance while
we got past the worst. We call once a week to check in, keep each other from going too far off
the deep end. For awhile, I stayed with my sister in Los Angeles, which had the advantage of
making it easy for Diego and me to meet up when he was visiting his folks in Riverside. But that
didn't last either.

Thing is...without her, that timer inside me had started running again. Going off and telling me
it was time to move on again. And so far, no one I've met or taken to bed since then has made it
stop like she did. I'm in Pearl River for now, but I can feel my time here is running short.
...Maybe I will find one of the other Catalysts to hole up with for awhile. Just to get everyone off
my back. Or maybe I'll just go back to Costa Rica.

For now, though, I get dressed and wander into the living room and make myself some coffee
while I wait for Diego to show up. I plop myself on the couch and turn on the TV, keeping the
volume low so I can't really make out individual words. I don't want to listen to anything. I just
want something to keep the silence away, and I don't think I can listen to her last words again
right now without giving in to the lure of the bottle. I turn on some crappy tabloid talk show
and imagine going on one of those things with the other Catalysts. We had opportunities when
we got back to the States. I never took any of them. It was hard enough talking to the
authorities about what happened on the island without bringing up Taylor. I wasn't looking for
any kind of fame or recognition. I just wanted to mourn.

My phone buzzes beside me. Diego's calling again. Two hours have passed already. I thumb the
green button.

“Hey. You here?”

“Yeah. Right outside.”

I hang up and wander outside. Diego's there, standing beside what looks like a swanky new car,
gleaming deep red in the morning sunlight. At the sight of him, I feel tears threatening again. I
didn't even realize how much I missed him. I never realize how much I miss any of them until I
see them again. Most of the time, she's the only one it hurts to think about. But now Diego's
holding his arms out to me, and I want to bawl like a baby. I choke in down and move in to
accept his embrace.

“You look like you're doin' okay,” I murmur.

“And you smell like you took a shower, so that's encouraging. No whiskey breath, either.”

“Sober as a judge, Short Stuff. Promise.”

“Hungry?”

“...Not so much...”

He pulls back and looks me over, frowning. “...You look like you've been losing weight again.”

I shift uncomfortably. “Two pounds,” I admit. “But before that, I'd gained back seven, so I ain't
in the red.”

I can see him debating whether to press the issue. Wondering whether I'll pull back if he does.
I'm not so sure myself at the moment. Finally he sighs and slings an arm over my shoulders.

“C'mon. I promised you breakfast.”

Fifteen minutes later, we're in a red naugahyde booth at a local diner, digging into plates of
pancakes and bacon with biscuits and gravy on the side. I'm more hungry than I realized, and
eat enthusiastically, which seems to relax Diego slightly. When I've managed to slow down a
little, I wipe my lips and look up at him.

“So...where's Varyyn?”

“He's still in London. Grace and Aleister are keeping him company while I'm stateside.”

“Yeah? How they doing?”

“They're good, if a bit sleep-deprived. Reggie's teething, so...”

“Heh...gotta admit, I can't wait to see the little rugrat...”

Diego grins. “He's pretty frickin adorable...” His mouth twitches slightly. He looks like he's
thinking something he's not sure he should say.
“...So...you said you had something to talk to me about? ...Something about Taylor?”

He exhales slowly. “...Yeah. ...How close have you been following the news lately?”

“Close as I ever do...which isn't very. I know who won the national election, know what's been
shot up or bombed lately...where the major natural disasters are...”

“...Have you heard what happened at Prescott Industries a few days ago?”

As a matter of fact, the incident did capture my attention. Prescott Industries is the long time
rival company of Rourke International. With Rourke in a hospital for the criminally insane,
ownership of the company has passed to Aleister and Estela. I suspect Iris had something to do
with the fact that his will included both of them. No way Rourke would encourage his children
to work together in anything. But for the life of me, I couldn't guess which one of their names
was on the will the night Taylor gave herself back to Vaanu. Anyway, a couple nights ago, Silas
Prescott unveiled something he called the Prism Gate. He said it was supposed to be a source of
renewable energy, but something about the images I saw reminded me so much of the
Lernaean Gate that I had to turn my TV off because I was working myself into another panic
attack and I still ended up huddled behind the couch sobbing. I read the next morning that the
gala had been broken into and the Prism Gate had blown up part of the building. Miraculously,
no one was killed, though there were injuries.

“You mean the Prism Gate thing that exploded.”

“Yeah. I was watching the news coverage. Grace and Aleister and Varyyn called me from
London the next day. ...They all got the same feeling I did. The Gate is powered by a crystal, and
we think the crystal came from La Huerta.”

“There are no more crystals,” I say flatly. “Vaanu took them with it when it departed. When
Taylor...”

“I know. I know. But hear me out here. Silas Prescott and Everett Rourke were rivals for years.
And back on the island, Taylor did find a note with the Ursa idol that mentioned a Silas. ...What
if Silas Prescott does have a crystal from the island, and it somehow managed to survive
because he took it off the island before the eruption?”

I sigh. “I dunno, Diego. What if? What if? What does it matter?”

“...I wasn't sure myself. I'm still not really sure. Except...” He pauses, swallowing. “The next
evening, I found my mom going through photo albums. I sat down to go through them with her,
and I found this.”

He reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out a photo, sliding it across the table toward me. I
pick it up and look at it. Immediately, my heart drops.
Two children, maybe two or three years old, are seated at a yellow plastic table, eating
sandwiches, sippy cups in front of them. One is a boy immediately recognizable as Diego. The
other is a girl with golden blonde hair swept back from her face and held with barrettes. Bright
blue eyes reflect the sunlight streaming through the window. Even at that age, her smile is
unmistakeable.

“...Holy shit...”

“...Yeah. It's Allie, right? I mean...it looks just like her...”

“Wh-who did your mom say she was?”

“Just a rich girl she used to nanny for. Mama couldn't remember her name. ...But she did say the
girl was an orphan. That her aunt and uncle were raising her.”

“...But that...that isn't...” I swallow. “It couldn't be her. I mean, your mom coulda been a nanny
for another blonde girl who was being raised by relatives. I mean you built Taylor's backstory
outta something, right? Maybe just a vague memory...”

“...That's what I thought, too. At first. But then I was going through some stuff in my old room,
and...”

He reaches into his messenger bag again, this time pulling out a battered shoebox. He sets it on
the table between us and lifts the lid. On top of a pile of odds and ends are two more photos. I
take them out and examine them. The top one shows an eight- or nine-year-old Diego with a
backpack on his shoulders, hugging a blonde-haired girl in a crisp white blouse and a pale blue
skirt with a pink rose pattern blooming over its surface. The blonde girl also wears a backpack.
She's missing her two front teeth, and her tongue pokes adorably through the gap as she grins
at the camera over Diego's arms. She looks even more like Taylor than the girl with the
sandwich in the first picture. My hands shake as I flip to the second picture. When I see it, I
nearly drop it.

...It's Taylor. My Taylor. My Princess. My wife. Not much younger than she was when I met her,
and unmistakeable. She's dressed in an elegant burgundy gown with rhinestones on the bodice,
and a corsage on her wrist. Diego, in a tuxedo and boutonniere, is with her, posed behind her in
front of a formal blue backdrop. Above them, a glittering banner reads: PROM 2014.

“...Senior prom,” Diego murmurs. “...I actually had a date. A real date with a guy I really liked.
And she had been asked by this girl. Neither of us were out yet, so we decided we'd go together
and get the picture for my parents' sake. ...Prom was a small distaster. Her date didn't show,
mine showed up drunk. He and I got kicked out, I spent the night holding his head and cleaning
puke off my shoes. Meanwhile, she got one dance from the prom king, who promptly decided to
stick his tongue down her throat.”

I stare at him. “...That so...?”

“...I can remember it, Jake. ...I can also remember spending senior prom in my room watching
old sitcoms.” He reaches across the table and taps the first picture. “That was the first day of
third grade. The first year we went to school together. She went to one of the fancy private
schools in Riverside for first and second grade. But one day her class was asked to draw
pictures of their best friends. She drew me. But some snotty girl who had decided she was her
best friend took offense, and insulted me. ...Allie got kicked out of school for sucker-punching
her at recess.”

“...That sounds like her...”

“...Except it never happened. When I had to draw a picture of my best friend, I drew a blonde
girl in a fancy dress and told everyone she was my friend who went to a different school. No
one believed me, and my story fell apart under cross-examination. Plus the boys made fun of
me for drawing a girl in a fancy dress.”

“...Diego, what the fuck is going on here?”

“Shit, Jake, I have no clue. ...But suddenly, I feel like I'm remembering two timelines. One where
she existed, exactly as I imagined her, and one where she's just my imaginary friend come to
life, who gave herself up to save us all...”

“Which definitely happened. ...And if it didn't, I'm frankly gonna be pissed as hell that I've spent
five years mourning my wife for nothing.”

“...But now I have evidence of her existence. Photographic evidence. ...What's more is that I
swear I can remember her address in Riverside. I can picture the house. I...haven't driven over
there, or even Google mapped it, I admit. A part of me is too scared to...”

“...I don't get it, Diego...I don't understand...”

“I don't either.” His expression starts to waver, his dark eyes sparkling with tears. “...I miss her,
Jake. I miss not knowing what she really was. I miss believing that she really was my childhood
best friend who stood by me for years. ...I miss believing she would always be a part of my life.”

“...Aw fuck, Diego...please don't make me break down in a diner...”

“I had to see you. I had to show this to you. To the other person in the world who loved her as
much as I did. ...I needed you to see it, too. Because if you can see it...if anyone can see it besides
me who knows the truth...” He trails off. He's quiet long enough that I start to look in the box
again.

“...What's the rest of this stuff?”

“...More keepsakes. More memories that I know don't really exist. ...The friendship bracelet she
made me. ...A birthday card she gave me... There's a funny note in there, in her handwriting.
With her signature.”
“...And your parents don't remember whether you went to your senior prom?”

“I haven't asked. I'm scared to, just like I'm scared to drive by the house where she grew up.” He
bites his lip. “I don't want to ask and have my hopes dashed. I don't want to say what I'm
thinking, either, because I don't want to get my hopes up. But...Jake...I think she's coming back.”

… I wasn't gonna do it. I wasn't gonna break down bawling in a goddamn diner. But here I am
doing just that. I bury my head in my arms and sob like a baby. I feel Diego's hand on my
shoulder and I can't even react for a good twenty minutes. Finally, with my head throbbing and
leaking from every orifice, I weakly raise my head.

“Shit...” I whisper. “Goddammit...do you have any idea how hard I wanna believe that?”

“I think I have an inkling, yeah.”

“I'm not sure I dare, though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. ...But...if it has something to do with Silas Prescott's machine...do
you think I should tell the others?”

“No.” I startle myself with the speed of my answer, the lack of hesitation. “...They got hopes I
ain't keen to dash, either. ...All my life, I ain't gonna stop hoping. Don't think you are either. But
the others...”

“...Yeah. Maybe you're right. Not yet, anyway.”

“Wait until we know more. Maybe by the time we see them we'll be able to decide what we
wanna do.”

***

I let Diego hang around a couple more days to break the silence and keep me off the bottle. His
news shook me deep. I'm scared as fuck to hope, but I can't help it. It's been five years, and it
doesn't hurt any less than it did the first day. I just want her back in my arms. I want to smell
her hair again, taste her mouth...

Diego tries to distract me, catching me up on how things are going with him and Varyyn, how
he's liking teaching. Hartfeld has invited him back a few times as a guest professor. He's taken
the invitations, but he admits it hurts to be back there without her. Even if she was never really
there. ...But maybe she was after all.

The third day, I wake up to find him packing his duffle. “Headin' out already?”

“Well, I'm not going to eat and run or anything, but I ought to be getting out of your hair.
...Unless you want me to stick around a couple days longer? Varyyn will understand if you do.”
“Nah. I'm fine. Go on back to your husband. ...At least one of us should have someone to hold all
through the night...”

He pauses. “Heh...funny. That's exactly the line of thinking that made me push her to sleep with
you...”

“Yeah. ...Hilarious...” My phone starts buzzing insistantly. I sigh, snatching it up. My sister's
calling. I tap the screen. “Mornin' Rebecca. What's up?”

“Mornin' Jacob. ...You got a minute?”

“For you, sis, always.”

“...This is gonna sound like a weird question. ...What was the name of your wife?”

For a moment, I freeze, my blood fizzing with something like alarm or dread. I cast a glance at
Diego, putting a finger to my lips. A couple taps on my screen puts my sister on speaker.

“...Why do you ask?”

“...Answer my question first, Jake.”

“H-her name was Taylor.” Seeing Diego mouth something, I add, “Chandler. Taylor Chandler.”

“...And what did you say happened to her?”

“She...she's gone...”

“Gone where?”

I feel myself starting to sweat. Diego inches closer to me, his face pale. “Rebecca, what's this
about?”

She hesitates. I can almost hear her thinking it over. “It's just...you hardly ever talk about what
happened to her.”

Diego tiptoes over to his bag and digs something out of it. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see
it's a notebook. He pulls out a pen and hastily scribbles something on a page.

“Yeah...” I say into the phone. “It's kinda painful...”

“I know, but...” Rebecca sighs. “...Jake, just tell me you didn't kill her.”
“...The fuck?!” I can't keep the indignation out of my voice. I look over at Diego, who is side-
eyeing the phone like it might come to life and bite him. He tiptoes back over to me and holds
up the notebook for me to examine. My eyes frantically scan the page.

“Look, I ain't asking because I honestly think you did...”

“Then why the hell are you asking?” I take another look at what Diego's written for me: She
disappeared. No body. “Look, Rebecca...I met her in the Caribbean. She was on La Huerta with
me when all that shit with Rourke International went down. She disappeared one night, and
her body was never found. Probably one of his victims. Or Lundgren's.”

“...Okay...”

“Now will you tell me what the fuck this is about please?”

“...I shouldn't, Jake. ...But you're my baby brother, and I didn't think I could keep this from you. I
was goin' over the old records, cleaning stuff out and the like. I came across an old missing
persons report among the cold cases. It was filed just about the time you got back. Taylor Rose
Chandler, originally of Riverside, California. She disappeared the summer before her senior
year at Hartfeld University in Massachusetts, on a trip to La Huerta. The name rang a bell with
me, and obviously La Huerta got my attention. The timing was right, and something about it
just felt...off to me. ...Did you ever try to contact her family? Ever tell them you were married to
her?”

“...I...don't think I ever knew her family...” I reply lamely. My mouth is dry, and my hands are
shaking.

“It seems strange that it should end up in cold cases...”

“Yeah...Hey, sis...can I ask you a massive favor?”

“You can ask. Whether or not I do it...”

“It's a lot to ask, but you called me with this information, I think you know you can trust me. ...I
need you to keep this under your hat for a little while. Just a few months.”

“Sure. I'll do that.”

I blink. “Wow, really? Just like that?”

“Like you said, I trust you. You're my baby brother. Besides, it's a cold case. Unless you actually
have any new evidence...”

“No...I don't. Not yet. ...But five years, I ain't really been able to stop hoping...”
“...I get that. ...Sorry for acting so weird. I guess it's just like I said. Something felt...off.”

“Everything about what happened on La Huerta was off,” I reply flatly. “Someday, sis, I'll tell
you everything. ...But for now, I gotta get going. Gotta get ready for work.”

“Sure. Love you, Jake.”

“Love you, too.” My fingers are still shaking as I tap the screen to disconnect the call. I look over
at Diego. “...Quick thinking there, Short Stuff.”

“...Jake...” His face is pale. His breath shudders. “...That was...she...”

“...I don't think we can avoid telling the others now,” I murmur. “...Something tells me we got a
shitstorm brewing.”

“...A shitstorm that might bring Allie back...”

“I don't know. ...But it would be wrong to keep it from them. We'll tell them when we meet up in
a few weeks. Maybe we'll know more by then.”

Diego

“Diego!” Allie screams frantically. “Diego, hold on! Please, please hold on!” I feel her hands on my
face, but I can't make her out above me. My vision has gone narrow, filling with static at the edges.
Every breath hurts, and I can taste blood. My ribs throb where one of the muggers got me with a
baseball bat. I remember them holding us down, going through her purse and my pockets and
digging out all our cash. I don't think it was supposed to be anything but a mugging, but one of
them got off on having us helpless and started getting handsy with Allie. Or maybe he was pissed
at her for fighting back and biting him. His companions told him to lay off, but he went for her
jeans, so I went for him. That was when his friend got me in the ribs.
Now I'm struggling to breathe, struggling to focus on my best friend's face above me, focus on her
tearful voice. A white light fills my vision, making me wince.
“Diego?” A woman's voice, with a soft Southern drawl. “I'm officer Rebecca McKenzie, and you're
gonna going to be just fine. We got paramedics on route, so you just gotta stay with us, okay?”
“Stay with me, Diego,” Allie whimpers. “Please for the love of God, stay with me...”
I sit up sharply, gasping. A hand beside me finds mine and squeezes it.

“Are you all right, my love?” I exhale slowly, turning to see Varyyn beside me on the small plane
bound for La Huerta. I bring his hand to my lips and kiss it.

“I'm okay, sweetheart. ...Just...another dream...”

“...About her?”

I swallow, nodding. “...Another memory that shouldn't be real.” I feel a pair of hands come down
on my head from behind me and muss my hair.

“Hey, Professor Soto!” Craig laughs. “Stop whispering with your husband and check out the
view to your left! We're almost there!”

I grin and turn to gaze past Varyyn and out the window at the familiar island rapidly growing
underneath us. Varyyn presses his nose to the window. “...I never grow tired of seeing it from
the sky...”

“I never grow tired of watching you see it from the sky,” I murmur. Turning away from the
window, Varyyn smiles at me and leans in to brush my lips with his.

“Heeeeey, you two cool it with the PDA!” Zahra leans around to poke me in the shoulder.
“There's a child present!”

“Abababababa!” Reggie babbles, flailing in Aleister's arms.

“Don't worry about Reggie, Z. If he's not traumatized by his parents, he's not gonna be
traumatized by these two.”

“I'm much less worried about Diego and Varyyn than I am about the two of you,” Aleister
retorts.

“Be nice, sugar,” Grace chides, tweaking her husband's ribs. Aleister yelps with surprised
laughter.

“Grace, that tickles!” Reggie abruptly starts to wail in his father's arms, an ear-piercing howl.
Murphy, who had been dozing under my feet, leaps to attention, trilling.

“Uh-oh!” Quinn gasps. “Sad baby! Do your ears hurt, Reggie-rabbit?”

“That, or his mouth,” Grace sighs. “Or both. Poor baby boy.” Estela clicks her tongue, turning
around in her seat.
“That poor child,” she sighs, plucking the baby from his Aleister's arms. “Come on, Reginald.
Come to your Tia Estela. She will make you feel better.” She sinks back into her seat and settles
Reggie on her lap.

“I have his teething ring here.”

“No need,” Estela replies. “My finger is perfectly clean and he likes it better.”

“Yup, no doubt about it,” Raj remarks. “If anything could make Estela embrace her Rourke
blood, it could only be her cute little nephew.”

“Shut up, Raj,” Estela answers blithely. Settling back in her seat, she begins to sing a lullaby in
Spanish.

“I still can't believe any of us have kids,” Sean remarks. “I'm starting to feel old.”

“Sean, you're not even thirty!” Michelle groans. “The only reason you feel old is because you
abuse your body for a living!”

“Which is why I'm engaged to a doctor.”

Michelle snorts. “I'm still just a lowly intern. I'm damn lucky to get the time off to come here
every year.”

“Yeah, but you're the best intern in that whole hospital. That's why you can get away with
anything.”

“Attention all Catalysts, Vaanti, and rugrats!” Jake's voice sounds over the speaker. “Thank you
for flying Rourke International, now five years without a supervillain at its helm. As usual, let's
take a moment to thank our gracious hosts, Aleister Rourke and Estela Montoya, who
thankfully have turned out nothing like their father, and who are kind enough to allow us
access to their private family island again this year for the fifth annual Catalyst reunion. We're
starting our descent, so if you could get your asses in your seats and buckle up, we'll be on the
ground in about ten minutes, barring another time storm or sea monster attack.”

Everyone chuckles at his speech, the same one he gives every year. But I wonder if they hear
what I hear, how forced the brightness in his voice is. By the end of the week, he won't be able
to hide the pain he's in, but I wonder if anyone besides me realizes how soon it starts biting. I
sigh, picking up Murphy and settling him on my lap.

“You remember how this goes, fella? Gotta stay still so you don't go flying all over the place.”

Murphy purrs his agreement and nestles in my arms. We land smoothly and disembark,
stepping onto the island where all our lives changed forever. The Celestial is gone, replaced by
a building reminiscent of Rosencraft Manor, big enough to comfortably house the eleven
remaining Catalysts, plus a few guests. We make our way there to get settled in, all except for
Varyyn. It's become our ritual to spend three days at the manorhouse before moving onto
Elyys'tel. The Vaanti are more at peace now than they have been in their entire history, now
that Aleister and Estela have closed the island to tourists and their society is protected. Varyyn
has abdicated his throne, passing the title of elyyshar to Seraxa. But he likes to spend what time
he has on La Huerta among his people, getting back to his roots. He exchanges his human
disguise for his Vaanti warrior clothes, gives me a kiss goodbye, and takes off for Elyys'tel.

***

Our reunion begins as it always does: with a feast, prepared by Raj. Jake and I hold our peace
while everyone eats, catching up on what's new in everyone's life. How Sean and Michelle's
wedding plans are coming, how they've even managed to set a date with Sean being the
Condors' star player and Michelle being run off her feet at the hospital. How big Reggie is
getting, how Rourke International is holding up under its new management. How Zahra is
managing to balance her band with her career as R.I.'s head of security. Grace's latest art show.

We discuss the success of the Kelly Foundation and how Quinn's parents are slowly
rediscovering their love. She never told them that her Rotterdam's ever came back, so she has
never felt the need to explain why it went away for good. They still put it down to the
experimental treatments she went through before the island.

Estela's got a new boyfriend in San Trobida, whom she strongly hints was a former resistance
operative. Raj's next show is going to be shot in Tokyo. Craig is excited about the new video
game he's helping to design. The Ultra Bowl series has been a huge moneymaker, but he
pitched an idea for a game based on our adventures on La Huerta, and it seems his teammates
are getting behind it. We all chatter excitedly about that for awhile, until the others gradually
start to realize that Jake isn't joining in.

“...How about you, Jake?” Michelle asks. “What's new with you?”

Jake looks down at his plate. “Ah...you know. Not much. Living at my grandparents' old place in
Pearl River. ...Tending bar...”

There is a moment of awkward silence. The first few years, with Lundgren's trial and
everything, it made sense for Jake to be taking things slow as he got settled back in. But now,
five years later, I think everyone's finally understanding what has been clear to me for a few
years now: Jake isn't moving on. He isn't getting over her. He can't let her go. Sean reaches over
to grip his shoulder.

“...We all miss her,” he says softly.

“...Not like I do,” Jake replies, not unkindly. He's just stating a fact. No one could possibly miss
Allie more than Jake does. ...Except me. Me with the memories that shouldn't exist.

Raj clears his throat. “On that note, I think it's a good time for me to point out that it's getting
dark out. I think it's time to light the bonfire.”
The bonfire has become another ritual of ours over the last five years. Each step is precise, and
carried out with reverence and solemnity. Back in Riverside or London or Hartfeld, I can
appreciate how superstitious it all is. But on the shores of La Huerta, it's how we honor her and
her sacrifice. And it's powerful, almost magical. When I think about all she was...it's really no
wonder the Vaanti built their society around her.

Grace settles a sleeping Reggie into a papoose on her chest. Raj has mixed our signature
cocktails, the exact same drinks he fixed each of us on our third night at The Celestial when we
were fighting over what to do next. A twelfth drink is also prepared. The one Jake made for her
beside the pool on that very first night, when she asked him to make a drink inspired by her.
We make our way down to the beach by way of the pool, leaving our drinks on the bar counter
while we go to build the fire. When it's roaring and crackling away beautifully, we each cut a bit
of bark from the nearest tree, carving our Hadean signs into the backs with a knife passed
between us. Jake cuts two pieces, carving the sign of Andromeda into one of them. We gather in
a circle around the bonfire. Jake starts us off, throwing his first piece of bark onto the flame.

“Lupus. The Wolf. Jacob Lucus McKenzie.”

I follow suit. “Canis. The Dog. Diego Ricardo Ortiz Soto.”

“Cygnus. The Swan. Grace Tamara Hall-Rourke.”

“Aquila. The Eagle. Sean Marcus Gayle.”

“Draco. The Dragon. Estela Montoya Rourke.”

“Delphinus. The Dolphin. Quinn Erin Kelly.”

“Serpens. The Snake. Everett Aleister Rourke the Second.”

“Corvus. The Crow. Zahra Yasmin Namazi.”

“Centaurus. The Centaur. Raj Aditya Bhandarkhar.”

“Ursa. The Bear. Kuan-yu Craig Hsiao.”

“Pavo. The Peacock. Michelle Thuy Nguyen.”

Jake holds the second piece of bark reverently over the flame. “All Adds Up. Eleven catalysts
made the twelfth. She was born of Vaanu, nurtured and shaped by our hopes and our dreams,
our loves and our losses. Our fears, and our hatreds. She was born to bring us all hope.
Andromeda. The Chained Woman. The Endless. Taylor. We love you and miss you. With all of us
gathered here around this fire, on this island, we give you back a measure of the hope and the
love you gave to us, sending it out among the stars to find you wherever you are now.”
He tosses the bark onto the fire, and we all join hands, murmuring in unison. “Two-thousand,
one-hundred, thirty-nine. May every cycle be remembered and rewarded.”

I feel Jake and Grace squeeze my hands before releasing them. We all collect our drinks and
regroup around the fire. I pull out my phone and let her final message play. We close our eyes
and let her voice wash over us, reverent and silent save for those who can't hold back their
tears.

“...Our summer is over now, but another will come soon. When it does, imagine me there with you.
Spending our days on the beach, watching every sunset melt into the sea, and gazing at stars that
fill our hearts with wonder. Because with you is exactly where I will be.”

I turn off my phone and put it back in my pocket. I watch the others brushing tears from their
eyes.

“Happy Reunion, everyone. Here's to five years.” I raise my glass. “And here's to Taylor.”

“To Taylor,” the others echo, raising their glasses.

A high-pitched yelp of alarm from Murphy makes me jump. Reggie starts awake and lets out an
enraged howl. Murphy pays him no mind, yapping insistantly. He's leapt to his paws, his
attention pinned on the treeline. We turn, following his gaze. My heart wedges in my throat.

… She's there. Allie is there, standing at the treeline, the moonlight reflecting off her fair skin
and golden-blonde hair. She casts her clear blue gaze between the eleven of us. She flexes her
fingers, a shy, almost nervous smile curving her lips.

“...Hey, guys. ...Did someone call me?”

Chapter 2: A Long Night

Summary:
Taylor has returned! But what does that mean for the Catalysts and the world?
Chapter Text

Aleister

For a pregnant moment, the only sound is my son, wailing with irritation at having been
awakened. Grace instinctively puts her arms around him and bounces from side to side,
stroking his back, but even she isn't taking her eyes off Taylor.

“Taylor!” Jake breaks the stunned silence, dropping his glass and racing to take his wife in his
arms, sinking to his knees with her tangled in his embrace. Taylor holds him back, pressing her
face into his shoulder. Jake's whole body spasms with sobs. The rest of us start to edge closer to
the treeline as Jake pulls back to press his mouth to hers, tears streaming down his face.
“Taylor...Princess...are you real? Are you here? Please be real...”

“I'm here,” she murmurs back. “I think I'm real...”

“...Holy shit!” Craig finally exclaims. “It worked!”

A part of me can't believe that after five years, anything that comes out of Craig's mouth could
be absurd enough to stop me in my tracks, but somehow he keeps finding ways to top himself.

“What in the heavens are you talking about?!”

“Taylor's back, dude! Five years we've been doing this voodoo, and it's finally paid off!”
“Wha...voodoo?! For heavens' sake, it was a ritual of remembrance! A way to honor our old
friend, not ressurrect her!”

“I dunno,” Zahra murmurs. “I'm looking at pretty convincing evidence that it might have been a
little more than that.”

“I think I'm with Zahra on this,” Quinn agrees.

“Do you honestly believe we've been unknowingly casting magic spells for the last five years?!
Why would it suddenly work now?!”

“Aleister, shut up!” My head snaps towards Diego, who is kneeling beside Jake and Taylor,
stroking the back of her head tenderly. Something in his voice makes any desire to snap back at
him wither. He turns his attention back on Taylor. “...Allie? Are you okay?”

Taylor peers over Jake's shoulder, casting her eyes over her surroundings. She spots the
manorhouse on the hill. “Are...are we on Sharktooth Isle?”

“No...we're on the main island...The Celestial...” he trails off. “...Wait...what's the last thing you
remember?”

“Th...the last thing I really vividly remember is being on The Celestial's rooftop. I touched the
crystal to let Vaanu take me back. ...It...all gets a little fuzzy after that...”

We're all silent for a moment. Then Raj pipes up. “Hey, why don't we go inside and see what's
left over from the feast. We can bring you up to speed while you eat.”

Taylor offers us a shaky smile. “I...think I'd like that...” She yelps a little as Jake shifts, wrapping
his arm over her shoulder and lifting her up in a bridal carry. “Woah! Jake, I'm pretty sure I can
walk...”

“Princess, if you think I'm ever letting you go again, you're nuts.” Taylor doesn't reply, but the
way she winds her other arm around his neck strikes me as consent. We all start to file toward
the manorhouse. Estela hesitates as we pass the pool bar, where the twelfth cocktail is waiting.
I pause, watching my half-sister as she studies the glass. Finally, she plucks it off the counter,
marches down the beach and dumps it into the sea.

“What was that about?” I ask softly as she returns.

“It's what we do every year,” she murmurs back. “...Call me superstitious, but with Taylor
standing in front of us, it feels like bad luck not to complete the ritual.”

“Do you really think--”

“I don't know what to think, Aleister. I didn't think this island had anything left for us but sad
memories. If there's still any magic at all left here...if it's enough to really bring her back...”

“...If there is any magic left, we shouldn't tempt it. ...Perhaps you are right.” She nods, and we
silently pick up the pace, catching up with the others.

At least whatever has happened to her over these past five years does not seem to have
damaged Taylor's appetite. We get her into the manorhouse and Raj fixes her a plate of
leftovers, which she immediately tears into like she hasn't seen a morsel in days. I doubt she
even tastes it. Jake and Diego stay close on either side of her, passing glances between them.
Jake's arm stays firmly draped over her shoulder. Ocassionally, Diego glances over at me and
Grace.

When Taylor starts to slow down a little, I clear my throat. “...I am sure you must have
questions about now...”

Taylor pauses, a forkful of citrus jasmine rice halfway to her mouth. She lowers her hand. “I'm
sure all of you do, too. ...I'm sure a lot of our questions are the same.” She pauses for a moment.
“What year is it?”

“2023. Five years since we left La Huerta. It was January of 2018 when we got back to the
United States. ...My father was arrested and convicted of kidnapping as well as several counts of
murder and attempted murder. He is currently living in a hospital for the criminally insane. By
some miracle, which I suspect Iris had a hand in, Estela and I were named as joint heirs in his
will. We each own half of Rourke International, and the whole of La Huerta. ...It's officially a
private nature sanctuary now. The Vaanti are left in peace, and the eleven of us have come here
every summer since you left us.”

“...Then...the Vaanti survived...?”

“Varyyn abdicated his throne,” Diego adds. “Seraxa is the elyyshar now. ...Varyyn is living with
me in London. But yeah, in general, the Vaanti are thriving. ...Though we haven't seen hide nor
hair of the Anachronists in five years...”

Taylor's hand finds Jake. “...What about Mike...?”

I see Jake's fingers tighten around her hand. “...He's alive, Princess. We found him Stateside.
...Lundgren, too. But we beat him. He's locked up for good.”

Her free hand flies to her mouth, tears gathering in her eyes. “...I can't believe I managed that...I
didn't know if I would be able to...I was basically begging Vaanu to turn back that moment...”

“...Guess that explains why Lundgren got brought back, too,” he murmurs with a rueful smile. “I
ain't complaining, long as I got Mike back...”

A tense silence settles over the table. There is a proverbial elephant in the room, the one big
question that no one dares to ask, because we somehow know that Taylor will not have an
answer for us: how did she get here? And then the follow-up question to that one, whose
answer I dread: is she back to stay, or will we lose her again?

It's Zahra who finally braves the unknown. “...Okay, so...you don't remember any of where
you've been for the last five years?”

“...I wasn't even sure how much time had passed,” Taylor answers. “I only knew that time had
passed at all because you all look different enough that I knew it wasn't the same night I left.
...Plus Grace has a baby strapped to her chest...”

“Oh!” Grace exclaims. “Goodness, you haven't even met Reginald...”

“...Not officially. But I've seen him. In one of the visions Vaanu gave me.”

Diego sighs. “...Jake...I think this might be a good time to tell everyone what's been happening
since the Prism Gate incident. And...” he glances at me and Grace in turn. “...it might be time to
talk about the Prism Gate incident in general.”

“...Ohhh...” Raj winces. “...Did you guys see that, too?”

“I did,” Craig confirms. “And Z. We...figured it would come up here tonight.”

“Wait...so did everyone see the same thing we saw?” Diego looks around the table. All around,
nodding heads confirm it. Taylor slowly raises her hand.

“...Um...I didn't...”

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling nervously. Slowly, I explain about my father's rivalry
with Silas Prescott, and Prescott's crystalline-powered project called the Prism Gate, and its
failure on the night of its unveiling. ...I slowly fold in my suspicions about the crystal's origins.
Taylor watches me silently, her expression unreadable, which is more than a little unnerving. In
all the time I knew her, she was never guarded with her emotions. I realize in retrospect that
because we needed her to be warm and open then, that was who she became. But the thought
of her being different from the girl we knew then scares me.
“...But that doesn't make sense,” Raj points out. “After Taylor merged with Vaanu, the crystals
disappeared.”

“The crystals on the island disappeared. Silas Prescott said in his speech that he and his wife
discovered the crystal on an expedition twenty-five years ago. And people were coming and
going from the resort here well before the eruption...”

“...The island itself existed for millions of years,” Taylor confirms softly. “...I may not have come
into being until the eleven of you entered the time bubble, but the island was here.”

“Right. I don't know how much power such a crystal would have outside the island, but
evidently, it has enough to cause quite an explosion...”

“...And you think that's the reason Taylor was able to come back?” Michelle asks.

“I don't know.”

“Is she going to stay back?” Sean adds. “...Or is Vaanu basically broken again?”
“Surely you don't think I know the answer to that,” I answer irritably.

“No, I don't, Aleister. ...But it's a question someone needed to ask aloud. We're all thinking it.”

Silence settles over the table again, heavy with dread. Diego finally speaks again. “Look...Jake
and I have some news. We were waiting for the right moment to share it. And I don't think
we're going to find a better one.”

With obvious reluctance, he stands and retreats from the room. He returns a few minutes later
with an old shoebox in hand.

“What is that?” Taylor asks.

“...It's...mementoes from my past. ...From...our past, Allie. I was watching the Prism Gate
coverage from my parents' place in Riverside. Over the next few days...things started appearing
that shouldn't have existed. ...Evidence of the past we built up for you before the cycle was
broken. Our childhood in Riverside together.”

Jake rubs a hand over his face. “...There's...there's also a missing persons report. On you,
Princess. It's a cold case. Five years old. Taylor Chandler, disappeared the summer before her
senior year at Hartfeld University. My sister's a cop in LA, and she says she found it cleaning out
the cold cases. ...I never told her what happened to you, but I did let her know I'd been married
to a woman named Taylor...”

No one speaks for a moment. Diego puts the box down on the table in front of us and lifts the
lid. One by one, he lifts out pieces of evidence. Pictures of the two of them as children. At their
senior prom. A newspaper clipping about a junior gymnastics team, complete with a photo of
Taylor and four other small, slim girls holding up medals and grinning into the camera. A
friendship bracelet of silky woven threads. A birthday card.

“...The big thing for me is that I can remember growing up with you in Riverside,” Diego says
softly. “...And I can remember growing up without you. ...I remember the small disaster that was
our senior prom, and I can remember spending my senior prom at home alone...”

Taylor's placid facade starts to crack. With shaking hands, she reaches across the table and
pulls the birthday card toward her, opening it carefully. Her mouth twists a little as she starts
to read aloud.

“...'Happy 18th Birthday to my favorite dork. Hope it's more fun than a laser battle in space with
pirates and dinosaurs. May the force be with you. Love, Allie'...”

Her voice breaks, catching in her throat. She takes a breath, then another, then promptly
dissolves into tears. Jake pulls her into his arms.

“You're okay, Princess. You're gonna be okay.”

He can't know that. But I don't believe I should say that in front of her. Not when she is clinging
to Jake as if he is anchoring her to existence, trembling so violently that I can feel the vibrations
through the table between us.

I find Grace's hand and grip it, perhaps just a little too tightly, but she doesn't complain. She
squeezes back. I glance over and see that tears are slipping down her dark cheeks as well.
Quinn and Raj have also given in to the flood of emotion filling the dining room. It feels
strangely like grief, even though the very person we're grieving is sitting right in front of us.
Then, so abruptly that I don't even register it at first, the mood shifts from heavy sorrow to
urgency and alarm. Michelle's eyes go wide.

“Jake, let her go.”

Jake hasn't felt the shift yet. He grips his wife tighter. “I ain't letting her go.”

“Jake, she's about to hyperventilate! Get off her!” She leaps up, running around to the other side
of the table as Jake pulls back sharply. Taylor, her breath coming in shallow, violent gasps,
abruptly pitches forward, crumpling to the floor.

“Taylor!” Jake cries, barely managing to break her fall. Diego drops down beside her, and
Michelle kneels at her other side.

“All right, everyone except Jake and Diego out!” she orders. “Give her some space, please!”

“You heard the doctor.” Estela takes Quinn gently by the shoulders, leading her out. “Come on,
everyone.”
We reluctantly trickle out of the dining room, gathering in a crowd just outside. A scream from
Taylor follows us out. We collectively grimace. The agony in her voice is unmistakable.

“...Dammit,” Estela growls. “What the hell is happening?”

No one answers. What could we say? It isn't as if we have any idea. For all I know, Craig was
right, and our little ritual of remembrance was indeed some sort of magic spell we were
weaving without our knowledge. Or...more likely, it has to do with Silas Prescott's Prism Gate. It
was after the Prism Gate incident that Diego started to find evidence of her existence before the
island.

Another cry of agony goes through us like a knife. Quinn chokes, pressing a hand to her mouth.
Of course, Reginald starts to wail again. Grace sighs. “I...should feed him...” She looks hesitantly
at the door to the dining room. I shake my head.

“I don't think anyone will flinch if you feed him here,” I murmur. She nods, and sits down
against the wall, opening her blouse. I sit down beside her while she exposes her breast and
guides our son to latch on. In spite of the fearful sounds coming from the dining room, he
settles down, suckling contentedly, his tiny fingertips working the fabric of his mother's blouse.
I scoot closer to my wife, stroking my son's head, capped with a dark layer of fuzzy hair.
...Would he exist without the woman screaming in the next room?

The dining room doors burst open. Jake emerges with Taylor cradled in his arms, Diego and
Michelle close behind. Sean catches Michelle's arm as she passes.

“What's happening? What's wrong with her?”

“I don't know, Sean,” she answers grimly. “Right now, though, she's in a lot of pain, and all I
think any of us can do is help her ride it out. ...I'm going to get my med kit. I don't know if I dare
to give her anything, but I need to keep an eye on her vitals.”

Sean reluctantly lets her go as Jake and Diego disappear into Jake's room. Eight Catalysts are
left fearful and bewildered in their wake. Eventually, it seems there is nothing else to do but
drift back to our rooms and try to sleep.

***

I sleep for an hour or two, and I think Grace does, too. But when I wake again, around two in the
morning, she is standing over Reggie's crib, peering down at him. I come up behind her,
winding my arms around her waist. She leans back into me.

“...Do you think she's going to be okay?” she asks me.

“I don't know,” I admit. “...I suppose it depends on what we would consider okay...”

“...I'm not sure...”

“If she rejoins with Vaanu and disappears again in the morning, does that make her okay?”

“...I don't know. ...But I know it would make Jake...not okay...”

That gives me pause. “...He has not been doing well. I know Diego said as much, but actually
seeing it...”

“What will happen to him if she does disappear again?”

“...We'll take care of him. All of us. For her sake, we'll take better care of him than we have
been.” I kiss her cheek. “...Do you want to look in on her?”

“We probably shouldn't leave Reggie alone...”

“He's asleep. And we can turn on the baby monitor.” I reach over to flip the switch on the
monitor clipped to the edge of the crib. The light turns green. I pick up the other and gently lead
Grace away from our room towards Jake's.

The lights in his room are dimmed, but not off. Jake and Diego lie still on the double bed, Taylor
sandwiched between them with her face pressed into Jake's chest. The two men have their
arms draped over her and each other. Sean sits on the floor, leaning against the wall. Michelle is
curled up with her head on his lap, a throw blanket draped over her shoulders. He rolls his
head towards us as we enter, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes.

“Hey...” he mumbles.

“...She's still here?” Grace asks.

“Yeah. She's still here. And she's sleeping, sort of...” Before I can clarify his meaning, Taylor
twitches on the bed, whimpering. Jake and Diego both startle awake and immediately set to
quieting her, whispering comfortingly and stroking her hair. It puts me in mind of the first time
Reggie got sick, when Grace and I kept vigil through the night with our son on the bed between
us. After a moment, she stills. Diego glances up at us, nodding briefly in acknowlegment of our
presence. Jake doesn't take his eyes off his wife.

Sean sighs. “...I think the pain has eased a little, anyway. Michelle thinks she's still in distress,
though. But her vitals are strong.”

“She is still in distress,” Diego mutters. “That's clear from here. ...Goddammit, I wish I knew
what was happening. I just feel so helpless...”

“Perhaps a few of us should travel ahead to Elyys'tel in the morning,” I suggest. “Let the Vaanti
know what's happening. At least Varyyn ought to know. If she's still struggling a few days from
now, it will be difficult to travel...”

“...I don't want him to worry,” Diego concedes.

“Yeah,” Jake sighs. “...Can't have that.”

“...Sean?” Grace asks. “What are you thinking?” I look over at Sean, whose brow is wrinkled with
concentration. He appears to be studying intently the socked foot stretched in front of him.

“...Diego...you were saying you have memories of her before the island? ...That they just recently
started coming to you?”

“Yeah. After the Prism Gate thing. ...Why?”

“...Because one just came to me. ...Sophomore year at Hartfeld. Second game of the year. The
dance team was selling hot dogs and bratwurst at the game. I saw her while I was warming up.
She was showing off some gymnastics moves. Using the bleacher as a balance beam.”

“...She was in our European History class...” Grace murmurs. “The one we had together, Sean.
With Professor Franco. She got into that argument with him over whether Lady Jane Grey
should really be considered an English Queen.”

As they are speaking, a memory drifts to the surface of my mind. A blonde-haired young
woman in the campus coffee shop, sipping from a paper cup with a cardboard sleeve while
pouring over a history textbook...entering the library a few yards ahead of me and pausing to
hold the door open...chatting with Diego on the tarmac outside Jake's plane as we prepared to
board in Costa Rica...

“...She was there in Costa Rica,” I murmur. “When we boarded the plane for La Huerta.”

Jake's breath shudders. “Oh, God...Goddamn...I saw her boarding pass...I checked her passport...”
Taylor suddenly goes rigid, crying out. Jake sits up sharply, taking her hand. “I'm here, Princess.
Just hang on. Everything's gonna be okay.”

Michelle sits up blearily, pushing the blanket off her shoulders and fumbling for her med kit.
I'm not sure if she realizes that Grace and I are here before she's stumbled over to the bed and
begun examining her patient. Sean sighs.

“She's been doing that all night.” He shakes his head bemusedly. “She doesn't even flinch. She
accuses me of pushing myself too hard on the field, but an intern's hours make my job look
cushy, even factoring in the risk of head injury.”

“...It's been a long night already,” I murmur. “And I think it's only going to get longer.”

Jake
In spite of Aleister's prediction, Taylor seems to finally fall into a restful sleep not long after
three in the morning. Diego drops off not long after, still spooning his best friend from behind
while I cradle her head against my chest. I don't get much sleep myself. I'm too scared that
she'll disappear the moment I close my eyes. That this is all some cruel dream. I have dreams
like this sometimes. The first year or two after La Huerta, I had them a couple times a week. I'd
be walking on a beach on the island and she would appear in front of me, tell me how much she
loved me, how much she missed me. We would make love and lie together in the afterglow, and
she would slowly slip away as my traitor brain forced me to wake up and face reality.

...The others were never with us in those dreams. And she was never suffering, never in pain
like she has been all night. But that's not much of a comfort, even if it does seem like evidence
that she's real. About the time the sky starts to turn gray with the early light of dawn,
exhaustion wins out, and I drop off.

The next thing I am aware of is a hand gently stroking my hair. Followed quickly by the fact that
my arms are empty. I gasp sharply, my eyes flying to the face above me. Taylor, seated on the
edge of the bed beside me, gazes down at me as she runs her fingers through my hair. She puts
the index finger of her free hand to her lips and bends to brush my mouth with hers. She nods
at my left. I turn my head to see Diego, huddled on the other side of the bed. She gestures with
her head to the balcony, taking my hand and standing. I rise slowly, letting her draw me over.

We've barely made it out to the balcony and shut the sliding door behind us before need
overtakes me and I pull her into my arms, kissing her hungrily. She winds her arms around my
neck, kissing back. She tastes just how I remember her, fits in my arms so perfectly. The sparks
that fly between us, the way the earth shifts under our feet, the fiery heat of our bodies together
is intensely familiar. We're both breathless when we break apart, pressing our foreheads
together.

“...Five years, and you still kiss me like it's our wedding day.”

“There's five years' worth of missing you in that kiss, Princess.”

“...I haven't been replaced, then?”

“No one could replace you. Ever. I won't claim I've been celibate, or that I haven't loved anyone
I've taken to bed. But none of them could hold a candle to you. No one made me think I could
stop running like you did. And ain't a one of them loved me back as much as you did.”

“...I almost can't believe you still love me after everything...”

“What do you mean by everything?”

“...Everything I did...”

“You mean saving the fucking world?”

“...I left you.”

“Because you were saving the fucking world.”

She smiles weakly, but it doesn't last. “...No one has really smiled since I turned up here.”

“Yeah, well, we were all kinda shocked at first. And scared you were gonna vanish. Then you
started screaming in pain and that didn't exactly put anyone in the mood to tell knock-knock
jokes...”

“Did I scare you?”

“Did it scare me to see the woman I haven't stopped loving in five years screaming and crying
in pain for hours when I couldn't do anything but try to help her ride it out?”

“...Ask a stupid question, I guess.”

I feel the first ghost of a smile on my lips. I reach up to cup the side of her face in one hand. “At
least you seem better this morning.” I sigh. “...I admit, I ain't had the easiest time of it since I lost
you. We'd just got married. We were supposed to have our whole lives together. And then just
like that...nothing.”

“...There was just no way to have it all, Jake. Letting Project Janus go ahead would have remade
the world in Rourke's image. I could have stayed here with you and the others forever, but that
would have meant letting the world burn. ...The eleven of you mean everything to me. ...And the
price for giving you all everything you deserved was losing myself.”

“...But...now you're here...” I let the question hang unspoken in the air. She is quiet for a very
long time. I don't let go of her for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice is low and husky
with emotion.

“...I made the choice that I thought was right because all of you deserved everything. I put on a
brave face because I didn't want any of you thinking I was doing something I didn't want to do
out of fear or panic. ...But don't think for a second that I wasn't fucking furious. It was right, but
it wasn't goddamn fair. ...I wanted to exist. I wanted to stay with all of you. I wanted the life that
had been imagined for me, and I wanted to have it all without giving up the world. ...I wanted
our little cottage by the sea, maybe a few of your kids if you were game. I wanted to look in the
mirror one day and see the Endless staring back at me with a wrinkled and balding Jake
McKenzie beside me.”

“I'd wince at the image, but it's what I wanted, too. These last five years, I've pictured us slowly
growing old together. I wanted to hug you to my beer gut and tell you that you were beautiful
while you fretted over every wrinkle and every gray hair. Every liver spot...” I grin a little and
tap her chin. “Every hair sprouting where you didn't want it to...”

She laughs. “Never has chin hair sounded so romantic.”

“There'd be hot flashes, digestive distress, hemorroids, flatulence...”

“Don't push it, Top Gun.”

I chuckle, but it quickly dies in my throat. “...I don't think you realize how badly I wanted it. I'd
take all the gas and backaches just to have you beside me again.”

“...I gave my energy back to Vaanu so that it could finally leave Earth. ...But after all that time,
living as myself, living as the Endless, loving all of you, being loved back by all of you, needing
you and being needed by you...I was too much of my own person to fully merge with Vaanu.
Trying to take me back with it was like...trying to but a baby back in the womb once they've
been born. We broke apart not long after leaving. That is...Vaanu released the part of our
consciousness that had become Taylor. I...didn't have a body per se...but my consciousness was
always reaching back to the earth. To all of you. ...I couldn't fully get back right away, though.
Then...suddenly...I felt energy. The same kind of energy that had willed me into being in the first
place. The next thing I knew, I was falling...and then I was here. On La Huerta, and all of you
were gathered around a bonfire. And...now I have memories of an entire childhood spent in
Riverside, growing up beside Diego, doing gymnastics and dance, majoring in history at
Hartfeld...getting trapped on La Huerta...That's why I was in that state last night. ...All those
memories rushing back was kind of overwhelming, and...it hurt. A lot.”

“Thank god it's over. But...Taylor...” I take her face in my hands. “...Does this mean you're back?
For good?”

She bites her lip. “I...think so...? I mean, I know Aleister was talking about the Prism Gate thing,
and if it really is powered by one La Huerta's crystals, then it seems like a pretty safe bet that's
what brought me back. If what I remember from being merged with Vaanu is correct, that
crystal will still have a great deal of power, enough to do some damage if it's used incorrectly.
But nothing on the level of the Island's Heart or Vaanu itself. ...And I don't think that any
amount of damage it could to would be undone if I merged with it. I'm not even sure that I
could.” She smiles at me. There's something a little anxious in her smile, but it doesn't seem
forced. “...As far as I can tell, Top Gun, you're stuck with me.”

Tears seem appropriate right now. I can feel them in my chest and my throat as I grab hold of
her and pull her close. But instead, I find myself laughing. I clutch her in my arms and rock her
joyfully, laughing like a madman.

“Princess, you crazy fucking miracle. Goddamn, I shoulda known you'd fight your way back if
you had half a chance.”

“I love you, Jake. I love you so much.” We pull back and our lips meet in a wild frenzy,
everything we've stored up over five years of separation, grief, anger, heartache, and longing
turning to desire. She bites at my earlobe, her voice husky as she whispers, “I want you...”
I reluctantly pull back, just enough to press my forehead to hers. “I want you, too. ...But why
don't we get the others up to speed? Way you were last night, there's no way anyone's gonna
give us any privacy before they know you're okay.”

She laughs. “Right now, they could watch for all I care. ...But you're right. And I do want to see
them again now that my head's on straight. I've got five years to catch up on.”

Chapter 3: Retcon
Summary:
Taylor catches up with the Catalysts...and with Jake.
Chapter Text

Sean

I don't sleep very deeply, slumped against the wall with Michelle in my lap. But it still takes me
a minute to come awake when the shouting starts. Then someone starts shaking me wildly,
which doesn't really help.

“Sean!” Michelle cries. “Sean, wake up!”

I try to ask her what's wrong, but my tongue is heavy and it comes out in a mushy mumble that
I'm not sure sounds like anything.

“Sean, Allie's back!” Diego cries. “She's okay! Get it together, will you?!”

I finally shake off the last cobwebs of sleep, scrambling to my feet. Taylor stands tucked under
Jake's arm. She looks exhausted, but she's smiling, and Jake is grinning like an idiot which is
encouraging.

“You...you're really okay?”

“As far as I can tell, yeah.” She untangles herself from Jake and holds her arms out for a hug. I
eagerly comply.

“It's so good to see you again. ...What the hell happened? Do you know?”

“I think so. ...But maybe it can wait until we're all together? I don't want to have to retell the
whole story five times.”
I laugh. “On it. I'll go wake everyone up.”

Naturally, as they come awake, everyone's first impulse is to tackle Taylor with a flurry of hugs
and questions. She finally manages to settle us all down long enough to explain. About how her
consciousness separated from Vaanu's and reached back towards Earth, and how some energy
that was presumably the Prism Gate activating had pulled her back and allowed her to manifest
on the beach. ...How she had memories now of an entire lifetime spent on Earth. And the fact
that she did not think the presence of a surviving crystal from the island would prevent her
from continuing that new life where it had left off.

“...So...it's not like Vaanu's been broken all over again?” Raj asks.

“No more than Grace is broken for having had Reggie,” Taylor replies. “It's like I told Jake. I had
become too much of my own person for Vaanu to fully take me back. I had my own thoughts
and feelings and hopes and dreams, and trying to take me back ultimately proved to be like
pushing a baby back into the womb after they've been born.”

“...Ew...” Craig mutters. I see Grace shudder slightly.

“Yeah, I'm with Craig,” Zahra agrees. “Also, I don't understand why you aren't still a massive
paradox...even if you were my roommate freshman year.”

“Wait, what? She was?”

Zahra shrugs. “On paper, anyway. And only for the first semester. She crashed in Diego's suite
most nights. ...Funny, at the time, I figured they were hooking up.”

“You wouldn't have been the first person to think so,” Diego says ruefully. “Allie was a pretty
convincing beard when she consented to be one.”

“Hey, I chose Hartfeld because it was where you wanted to go,” Taylor protests. “It sucks that
we somehow ended up in completely different suites our first year! I'm just glad that one kid
moved into the frat house second semester. Meant I got his room.”

The three of them chuckle, until the strangeness of what they're actually saying hits them. “Yo,
that's super weird,” Zahra mutters. “How long is that going to keep happening?”

“I...don't really know. In a way, this is sort of what Rourke was trying to do with Project Janus.
...Except that in this case, La Huerta is still here, and Rourke isn't emperor of the world, and the
Vaanti are here and not imprisoned in underground camps...”

“What?!” Diego yelps. Taylor grimaces.

“Sorry. ...Weird Vaanu side-effect, I think. I have a...not quite memory of what would have
happened if I let Project Janus go ahead. It...wasn't nice.”
“But that's not what has happened, here?” Aleister asks anxiously.

“No. I...think I still have a little bit of Vaanu's soul inside me, but no more than any child inherits
from their parents. I don't have nearly as much power as Vaanu, or even as the Endless had
while Vaanu was still on Earth. But...basically, I've been...retconned into the world's past like
living CGI. ...I admit that I am an anomaly. But I don't have the power to unmake existence or
create volcanos or anything like what Vaanu's arrival on Earth did. Thanks to all of you, I'm too
human to manage it.”

“...But...if there is another crystal out there...” Quinn says softly.

“We can deal with one crystal,” Estela answers firmly. “We'll figure out what needs to be done
with it when we get back.”

“...The biggest thing I think I need to apologize for is the fact that I think this isn't going to be
easy on any of you. It was all of your needs meeting with Vaanu that willed me into being. I
don't think you can forget what I was now that you know. You'll remember me from before La
Huerta now, but I think you'll also never forget that there was a timeline where I didn't exist
until we entered the time bubble.”

“Who cares?” Diego scoffs. Taylor reaches out to cover his hand with hers.

“It will be harder on you than anyone else. You'll have about twenty years worth of new
memories alongside the old ones. Everyone else will only have met me when I got to Hartfeld.”

Diego shakes his head. “It's worth it to get my best friend back. Nothing matters as much as
that.”

“But...” Grace hesitates. “Are you really sure that this won't cause a butterfly effect or
anything?”

Taylor's gaze softens, growing distant. “...I'm not the first anomaly to ever exist. La Huerta itself
was born from a violent event, and Vaanu's own trauma and pain, which is why it had so much
impact. But most of us manage to slip into the world and move around unnoticed. ...Time knows
what its doing. I exist like a rock in a stream. The water bends and reforms around me and
mostly remains undisturbed.” She blinks and looks up to meet our eyes again, smiling
sheepishly. “...Was that weird? Sorry...it's gonna take me a little time to settle back into myself.”

“You take all the time you need, Princess.” Jake kisses the side of her head. “There's no need to
rush.”

For a moment, everyone is quiet. Tension crackles like electricity in the air. Then, it slowly
starts to bleed away as everything she's told us sinks in. She's back. Our Taylor is back with us
for good. Giddy elation floods in behind the tension. Craig bounces behind Taylor, grasping her
firmly by the shoulders.
“Well, you feel solid enough, so I don't think you're a hologram.”

“She might be a robot, though,” Zahra adds. “Jake, have you checked her for wires yet?”

“Oookay, I don't want to know any more about their sex life than absolutely necessary,” Diego
groans.

“Relax,” Michelle sniffs. “She has a pulse. I checked. ...Though, if you want, I could give you a
quick physical just to make sure everything checks out.”

Taylor frowns thoughtfully. “You know...actually, I think I would like that. Just to put my mind
at ease. Though...I feel human enough to be hungry. And...I actually have to pee really bad right
now.”

“We should probably let you do that,” Diego chuckles.

“Yeah. I'll get started on breakfast,” Raj declares, hopping to his feet and practically skipping
out the door.

“Let me give you a hand,” Quinn calls, following him out.

“Well, I guess if you're feeling all right, we won't be late to meet the Vaanti,” I remark. Taylor,
already on her way to the bathroom, pauses, looking back eagerly.

“The Vaanti?”

“Yeah. It's kinda become tradition to spend three days here, and then four with the Vaanti
before we go back home.”

She smiles. “I would love to see them again...”

“Well, we were hardly thinking of leaving you behind!” I laugh. “Go on now, attend to your
bodily needs.”

“If you come to my room afterward,” Michelle adds, “I can give you a quick exam before
breakfast.”

“All right. But...I may need you to show me which room is yours.”

“...Right. Noted. Okay, I'll wait out here.”

Michelle
I gather my medkit while Taylor finishes in the bathroom, and lead her to my room. I give her a
robe to change into, and direct her into the bathroom. When she emerges with the robe over
her shoulders, I gesture to the bed. She takes a seat.

“So are you officially a real, licensed doctor now?”

“I have a medical degree, but I'm still an intern. But I'll be a resident soon enough.” I pull on a
pair of gloves and pick up my penlight. “Look straight ahead for me.”

“I have no doubt.” She obediently looks ahead while I check her pupils. They shrink normally
under the light, and I pick up a tongue depressor to check her mouth and throat. I tip her head
back and make a quick examination of her nostrils. She endures all this calmly, but when I put
the otoscope in her ear, she fliches, recoiling slightly. I pull back.

“Does that hurt?”

“Not really.” She smiles sheepishly. “...Sorry...I just hate the feeling of having things in my ears.
Especially pokey things. I know it's dumb.”

“Not at all. It's just instinct, not wanting pokey things near something as sensitive as your
eardrums. Do you know how long it took me to train myself not to flinch while putting in
contacts or applying eyeliner? Just take a deep breath. I promise I'll be quick.” I bend again to
look in her ears. I feel her stiffen, but she holds still. I move around to the other side. “Besides,
I've been an intern for nearly a year. Someone who flinches at an otoscope is a picnic compared
to some patients I've had to deal with. Getting puked on because I use a tongue depressor on
someone with a strong gag reflex is shockingly common.”

She chuckles as I put down the otoscope and palpate her cervical lymph nodes. “Do they warn
you about that kind of thing as a premed?”

“Yeah, but it's still kind of a shock the first time.” I check her pulse and blood pressure, listen to
her heart and lungs, test her reflexes. “Do you trust me enough to let me do a quick breast
check and manual pelvic?”

She laughs. “Do you really have to ask after everything?”

“I'll have to put my fingers in your vagina to palpate your cervix, and it's probably going to be a
little uncomfortable. Are you okay with that?”

“Michelle Nguyen, I trust you with my life. I can handle a little probing.”

I smile, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Lie down then, and open your robe for me.”
She does as I tell her, and I palpate her breasts and her abdomen. Changing my gloves, I finish
at her pelvis. When I carefully insert my fingers, she pulls in a sharp breath, her mouth twisting
a little, but she doesn't flinch. I finish as quickly as I can and withdraw, pulling off my gloves.

“Everything looks and feels normal. You don't have a hymen, which I find noteworthy with your
whole situation considered, but at your age, no other doctor is going to blink at that. In this
timeline, I expect it went the way of most hymens.”

She chuckles at my choice of words. “I'm afraid I couldn't tell you if my other body had one.
Never paid a whole lot of attention down there unless I was actually using it...”

“A mystery for the ages,” I tease. “In all seriousness, it's only a curiosity to me because you're a
time anomaly and everything about you is a curiosity. You can go ahead and get dressed, by the
way.”

She slips behind the bathroom door to put her clothes back on. “...Do you happen to have any
clothes I could borrow? What I've got on is fine for now, but if we're here for a whole week, I
might want something to change into. ...I'm a little surprised I didn't turn up naked, honestly.”

“Oh, I'm sure we girls can all spare one outfit. You'll be set for the week.”

She reemerges, fully clothed. “So, can I pass for human, do you think?”

“If you're not human, it's a remarkable disguise from what I can see. Nothing out of place that I
could find. Though...I think when we get back home, I'm going to find a way to get you into the
hospital for a lab workup. Blood and urine samples and all that. At the very least, you should
have a titer test.”

“A what test?”

“Titer. Check for the presence of antibodies. ...I have no idea how being a time anomaly is going
to affect your immune system, whether this version of you has had childhood vaccines, when
her last tentanus shot was...”

She laughs. “You would be the one to think of that,” she teases, but I can hear affection behind
it. I grin.

“Well, you know, that's my job. And the last thing I want is for us to get you back only to have
you die of measles or something.”

“...I can remember getting shots as a kid. And hating them, of course.”

“Of course.” I reach out to clasp her shoulder. “I hope you'll forgive me, but I think I'm going to
be a little alarmist with your health for awhile. ...I think it's going to take everyone some time to
stop being scared we're going to lose you again, and your physical health is the one thing I can
take care of better than anyone else.”
“Of course, Michelle. ...Honestly, I think I may need some coddling for awhile. This whole thing
has been pretty disorienting. I'm going to need to cling to the people who love me best.”

“Well, you remember you said that when I insist on dragging you to the hospital every time you
so much as cough. Ask Quinn how annoying I can be about that sort of thing if you don't believe
me.”

She looks at me sharply. “Quinn? Is she...?”

“She's fine. Still no traces left of the Rotterdam's. But until I was sure it wasn't coming back, I
made myself a huge nuisance.”

“How did she explain her mysterious recovery to her parents?”

“...I don't think she'd ever told them it had come back in the first place. They still think that
experimental treatment her dad put her on is what did it.”

She doesn't immediately reply, and a knock at the door distracts us. “Hello?” Jake calls.
“Everyone decent in there?”

“We're both decent,” Taylor calls back. “We're also wearing clothes.”

Jake pokes his head in. “Got a clean bill of health for her, doc?”

“She says everything's fine from what she can see,” Taylor replies. “But she does want me to
provide a few meals for the vampires at the hospital when we get home.”

“Just routine stuff,” I assure him.

“She wants to make sure I've had all my shots.”

Jake frowns thoughtfully. “There's probably a record of that somewhere, right? I mean if she
existed in the real world now...”

“That's true. She probably has a birth certificate and everything.”

“I know she has a passport. I remember checking it in Costa Rica. We can worry about all that
later, though. Breakfast is ready and Raj insists that we eat it while it's hot.”

“You won't get any argument from me,” Taylor declares eagerly. “Let's eat!”

Taylor
Gathered around the breakfast table with my friends, sopping up creamy egg yolk with a soft
cornbread muffin and listening to their stories of the last five years, I can't help but wonder if it
is possible that I will ever be as happy as I am in this moment. This is the sort of moment the
Endless fought to give me, blissful moments surrounded by the people who had willed me into
being, who love me more than anyone in the world. But the cost of such moments would have
been too high to bear. Though her hair was gray and her skin had gone slack with age, the
Endless was a younger incarnation of my soul, selfish like a child is selfish, and rebellious. She
had fought against Vaanu's desire to take her back. By the time I met Vaanu myself, I was ready
to do what had to be done. To sacrifice my own happiness for the sake of the people who meant
more to me than anything. They were and are worth the world. But they also deserve the
world.

But, I suppose some things never change, because fighting Vaanu is the whole reason I am back
here now.

And now, I do have it all. The world is safe, and the island is safe, and my friends are safe, and
they know each other and I know all of them. I have a past to go home to, a life waiting for me
with my dear friends and my husband at my side. There is a whole world of possibility
stretched out before me, and I mean to explore it all. Though for now, I am content to bask in
the love of my true family and the triumphs my sacrifice brought them.

Grace and Aleister, now married with their beautiful son. Quinn, healthy and thriving and
running her charity. Sean a starting quarterback for the Condors, with his beautiful fiance well
on her way to becoming the doctor she was always meant to be. Craig designs video games,
Zahra has a band as well as a job as Rourke International's chief of security. Estela is living with
her Tio in San Trobida, and Raj is a world-renowned chef with his own television show. My
precious Diego is a professor and best-selling author, and my beloved Jake is free while the
man who caused him so much suffering is a prisoner.

I let them guide me through the day, taking me on a tour of the manorhouse, playing in the pool
and on the beach like we did those first days on the island. Except now we also take turns
watching Reggie in the shallow end, and build sandcastles for him on the beach.

As night falls, Raj grills burgers for us and fixes drinks while Quinn supplies cupcakes. After
Grace and Aleister settle the baby, we bring lounge chairs down to the beach and gather around
a fire to watch the stars come out. Then, one by one, the others start to drift back inside to
sleep. Soon, it's just me, Jake, and Diego left.

“I think I'm gonna make sure our room is ready for us,” Jake eventually declares, leaning over to
kiss me. “Don't stay up too late, Princess.”

“I'll be in soon.”

“Promise?”
“I swear it by Andromeda.” He gives me another kiss, his hand lingering on mine as he drifts
back to the manorhouse. For a moment, the only sounds are the crackle of the dying fire, the
whisper of the waves, and the faint hum of life in the rainforest behind us. I study the stars
above me. “...The sky's back to normal, isn't it? It's not the Hadean sky anymore.”

“Nope,” Diego confirms. “It's back to the modern era.”

“...Good...” I lean back in my chair, letting the plastic cradle my head. I laugh a little. “...I'm so
goddamned happy right now, I can't even believe it. I had hoped that everyone would be okay,
but I think it's all turned out better than I ever imagined...”

I feel Diego's hand on mine. “We're doing pretty well, and it's all thanks to you. But don't forget
that for the last five years, we've been coming back to La Huerta to honor your memory.” His
fingers tighten on my hand. “...I've really missed you, Allie...”

“I've missed you too, Diego. It was harder for me to leave you than anyone else.”

“...Don't tell Jake that.”

“If you think he didn't know that from the first moment he understood what I was, you don't
know him very well. You were the first spark to meet Vaanu's energy and bring me to life. The
others help shape me, but you were the spark of my creation. You're the missing piece of my
heart. You're my best friend and you always will be. ...It broke me to pieces to learn that all
those years we thought we were together were illusions. ...All those times you needed me, I
wasn't really there for you...” I feel myself choking on a sudden wave of heartache.

“...But now you were,” he says softly. “Now those memories are real.”

I grip his hand, letting memories of our childhood together rush to the surface. “...Remember
when we were four, how upset we got when we realized we wouldn't be starting school
together?”

“We threatened to run away to Idaho, as I recall.”

“Yeah. ...Why Idaho?”

“I think it was just the first place name that came to mind that sounded sufficiently far away.
...Remember how you used to be scared of the Seasame Street aliens?”

“They were so damned creepy! They made me long for your abuelita's telenovelas!”

He laughs. “Abuelita had no idea what was appropriate to put in front of children, did she?”

“Not at all. But thankfully, we were too little to understand most of it.”
“Still, I remember we used a lot of plotlines in our games. Like remember the time My Little
Pony captured GI Joe to build an evil weather machine?”

“Why did she need GI Joe again?”

“Well, obviously because she didn't have any thumbs. Just hooves.” He makes his hands into
fists and bumps them together, mimicking hooves. “Very hard to hold a screwdriver.”

I take another sip of my cocktail. “...Speaking of screwdrivers...remember that summer when

we were fifteen and we got into my uncle's liquor cabinet?”

“And got totally sloshed on Kahlua? Of course. That was the night I came out to you, wasn't it.”

“Yeah. I remember belting 'If You Were Gay,' at the top of my lungs, and you whacking me with
a pillow and telling me I couldn't sing.”

“Well, you couldn't,” he snickers. “Bet you still can't. God, I remember the hangover lasted two
days. How the hell did we not get caught?”

“I got caught,” I reply before I even realize what I've said. He looks sharply at me.

“What?”

“...My aunt and uncle were out of town that week. You didn't get caught because we just told
your parents you were staying with me, and by the time you went home, the hangover had
worn off enough to hide it. ...But a few days after they got home, Uncle Rob realized the Kahlua
was gone...” My stomach is clenching with remembered fear. I clutch Diego's hand. He squeezes
back, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Oh, god...that was the night he...”

“...The only time in my life he ever hit me. We never got along great, especially when I got to be
a teenager, but he never raised a hand to me before that night, and he never did again...”

“You never told me that it was about the missing Kahlua. You said it was about swiping some
cash from his wallet.”

“I didn't want you to feel guilty about having gotten away with it when I didn't.” I close my eyes.
The pure bliss of the last few hours is fighting to stay afloat amidst the sudden flood of unhappy
memories. “...I guess I'm going to have to deal with bad memories along with the good...”

“...Yeah...like that time when we got mugged in LA.”

I shiver. “...I walked away with only a few bruises. They almost killed you. They almost didn't let
me see you in the hospital until your mom gave me permission...”
“Do you remember that we met Jake's sister that day?”

“What? We di...” I cut myself off with a gasp as the face of the officer who responded to my
frantic, tearful pleas to help my friend forms in my mind. Auburn hair, the calm voice speaking
in a Southern drawl, asking what his name was. Without flinching at the blood trickling from
his mouth, or the way he was whimpering, she knelt at his side, putting a hand on his
shoulder. Diego, I'm officer Rebecca McKenzie, and you're gonna be just fine...

A long silence hangs in the air between us. Not awkward, but heavy in its way. Diego is the one
to break it.

“...It's been really hard on him, Allie. Losing you.”

“I knew it would be. I didn't want to leave him.”

“I know. I know. I'm not trying to make you feel guilty or anything. ...I just...think you ought to
know. He hasn't coped very well. It's not your fault, and it's not his. But he hasn't really felt like
he's had anywhere to turn. I was lucky. I had Varyyn. But Jake...”

“What about Mike?”

He sighs. “Mike has had his own trauma to cope with. I think he and Jake have just been kind
of...out of sync since Lundgren's trial ended. It's hard for them to lean on each other when
they're both trying to run in different directions. Besides, without you there to ground him,
Jake's just been...kind of aimless since the trial. He doesn't want to go back to the Navy after
everything. He still has his pilot's license, but I don't think flying means what it used to mean to
him.” He tips the last dregs of his cocktail down his throat and sets his glass on the sand beside
him. “I dunno. Maybe a few more years down the line, he would have snapped out of it, or
gotten past you... Losing you hit him hard. That's all I'm saying. It hit all of us hard, but he made
you the center of his world. Same way I did at the start, when you first came into being. If I'd
lost you at that point in my life, before I had Varyyn or any other friends for that matter, I
would have been just as aimless.”

I nod slowly. “...Thank you for telling me.” I glance back at the manorhouse and I immediately
spot him on the balcony outside his room, silhouetted by the light from inside the room. He's
watching me. Making sure I don't disappear again. “...I should go to him.”

“I think that would be wise. And I should come in and get some sleep. It's starting to hit me how
little I slept last night.”

I grin as I get to my feet. “Need a hand up?”

“I will not say no.” I pull him to his feet, and we wrap our arms around each others' shoulders
as we make our way back to the manorhouse. When we reach his room, we part. But not before
he pulls me into a tight hug. “I love you, Allie. You'll always be my best friend.”
“I love you back, Diego. Forever.”

As I step into Jake's room, the fragant scent of jungle flowers wafts over me. I look down and
see the carpet strewn with petals. Jake sits on the edge of the bed, bathed in the flickering light
of a dozen candles. I smile at him.

“Mmm, romantic. But I am rather surprised that you're still fully clothed.”

“So are you,” he replies. “I wanted to be prepared, not presumptuous.”

“That's very considerate of you.” I let my hips sway as I approach him. “Let me be absolutely
unambiguous.”

I straddle his lap, putting my hands on his shoulders, and bend to capture his mouth with mine.
He kisses back, lifting my shirt and letting his hands roam underneath. Every place his fingers
touch tingles with electric heat. I bury my fingers in his hair, kissing harder, nipping lightly at
his tongue and lower lip. I rock my hips against his, teasing. We start to move faster. I lift my
arms, breaking apart long enough to let him slip my shirt off. I grab the back of his, dragging it
off over his head. We fumble to undo each others' pants.

“I want you,” I whisper huskily, bending to nibble at his earlobe. He cups my breast, making
circles over the nipple with his thumb.

“I need you,” he whispers back.

I put my hand to his chest, pushing him down onto the bed. “I'm here.”

One arm wraps around my back, the other hand cups my bottom. His fingertips dig into my
flesh. “I love you so much.”

I plant kisses on his chest and shoulders, biting at his collarbone. “I love you, Jake.”

In one swift motion, he flips me over, pinning me under the weight of his body and pressing his
hips into mine. His pale blue eyes lock with mine, shimmering slightly in the candlelight. One
hand comes up to cup my cheek, stroking it tenderly. “...Don't leave me, Taylor.”

His plea sounds so vulnerable, so fragile, that it briefly cools the heat flooding through me. I
reach up to brush strands of shaggy brown hair from his face, tucking them behind his ears.

“Never. Never again.”

“Do you promise?”

“Do you remember what I said when you proposed?”

“...'To the stars and back'.”

“I've been to the stars. Now I'm back. I'm not leaving you until death drags me kicking and
screaming from your side.”

There is still fear in his eyes, and I can't honestly blame him for it, but the smile playing around
his mouth is genuine.

“You know you're really sexy when you talk fierce like that.”

“One of the many reasons why I do.” I grin, drawing his hand down from my face to cover my
breast again. “Now come on, Top Gun. Show me what you've wanted to do to me for the last five
years.”

His fingertips trail down my torso, tracing the bony ridge of my pelvis toward my pubis. His
thumb finds a sensitive spot and presses in just enough to make me gasp. He bends to nibble at
my ear.

“I ain't planning on letting you keep quiet.”

“I don't plan on trying to keep quiet,” I reply. I can feel my blood rising again, boiling under my
skin. “Don't be gentle with me, Top Gun. I've waited five years to feel like a human again, and I
want to feel.”

“Princess, your wish is my command.”

I feel him sink into me, and I give into it, letting the motion of his body and the waves of
pleasure rolling through my blood carry me. The lightning storm in Cetus' belly has got nothing
on what's raging in my body and soul as I move with Jake, rediscovering sensations I have
longed for since I touched the crystal pillar on the rooftop of The Celestial. Little bursts of pain
wrapped in pleasure so powerful it almost hurts to bear it, an act sacred and holy and profound
between two souls who make each other whole, messy and just a little rough between two
humans driven by animal desire. When we're both spent, we lie in the afterglow with our
hearts racing, heady with the high, peaceful and content, gasping for breath through burning
throats, muscles aching and quivering, skin slick and stinking with sweat and fluid. We brush
damp strings of hopelessly tangled hair off each other's foreheads and pant against each other's
mouths, our lips groping wearily for their targets.

“...Sex is weird...” I mumble, barely realizing what I'm saying until I've said it. Jake snorts.

“Weird? That's your first thought after we make love for the first time in five years?”

“Give me a break, Top Gun. I haven't even had a body in all that time. I don't even know that it's
actually been five years for me. To have a human body again after basically being stardust
is...weird.”
“Okay, fair enough,” he laughs. He props himself up on his elbow to look down at me. His free
hand cups my cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Was it anything like you remembered?”

“Oh, better. It's just crazy how anything can feel that intense and not only not kill a person, but
actually sometimes create a person. It's messy and it's really kinda violent, but it drives people
so thoroughly. And even when you're so in love with the person you're having sex with that you
would die for them, it doesn't actually make sex...pretty... There's still fluid and smells and
weird noises and even weirder faces...”

“Well, this is certainly the weirdest pillowtalk I've ever engaged in,” he quips. He kissing me,
smiling. “Tell me more about how sex is weird.”

I chuckle. “You know, in the broadest sense of the word, I was a virgin when we first made love,
but I didn't actually know it. I had vague memories of falling in love with you a thousand times
and making love to you a hundred thousand times, and I suppose I turned those times into false
memories of other lovers, but it was always you. And if you had asked me to name the first
person I'd ever had sex with, like really confronted me with the question, I'm not sure I could
have given you a name.”

He frowns a little. “What about now? Think you could give a name now?”

“...If I could, would you want me to?”

“Only if you're comfortable telling me,” he replies, shrugging. “I'm a little curious if you can, but
whether or not you can doesn't change anything. I'm not all that invested in whether or not I
was your first or your only, so long as I'm the only one now. Besides, it's unlikely the name
would mean anything to me.”

I smile. “You're the only one I want for the rest of my life, Jacob Lucas McKenzie. ...But my first
was Erica Fishman. After the high school graduation dance.”

“Mmmm. Nope, don't know her. My first was Jennifer Lloyd.”

“Oh, really? She was my third!”

He laughs. “Nice try, Princess. She was a Louisiana girl who ain't ever left far as I know. In fact,
she still lives in her old neighboorhood.”

“And I suppose it's impossible that she ever traveled to California or Massachusetts?”

“Just to tumble a beautiful valley girl? Guess I couldn't blame her.”

“I'm not a valley girl, Jake. I'm from Riverside, which is nowhere near the San Fernando Valley.”

“It's nearer the San Fernando Valley than Pearl Rive...” He trails off, frowning. “...What's
wrong?”
Even though I've had ample time to catch my breath, I have suddenly found myself gasping, my
heart hammering painfully against my ribs. I grit my teeth against an icy wave of fear that
suddenly crashes over me.

“N-nothing...I just...” I find his hand and grip it. I find his worried gaze and hold it with mine.
“I'm just a little panicky, I guess. ...The fact that I have a past now...and a future...I'm scared of it
being snatched away...”

“Come here.” He lies down, drawing me into his arms and cradling me against his chest. His
heartbeat thumps against my ear. “If you're not willing to leave, then I'm not letting anything
take you, either. I got you, Taylor. You're safe with me. I love you.”

“I love you, Jake.”

In his arms, the dark thoughts at the edges of my mind retreat. I fall asleep holding him close as
the candles flicker out one by one, smelling sweat and sex and jungle flowers.

Chapter 4: Return to Elyys'tel

Summary:
Taylor and the other Catalysts visit the Vaanti village. What will they make of her return?
Chapter Text

Zahra

8-bit music trills under cheap explosion sound effects as my thumbs dance over the controller. I
scowl at the screen as my character hurls another fireball at the massive, swollen red monster
in front of him. The creature flashes yellow and white and its health bar drains another notch.

“We got this, Player One!” Craig crows. “He's toast!”

“Shut up, loser! I'm concentrating!” My sweat-slick thumb slips on the button, and I take a hit.
“Shit! Goddammit!”

“I gotcha, Z! I'll cover you!” Craig's sprite raises her shield in front of my character, but a
targeted blow still knocks her down a peg. My sprite pops back onto his feet. “Fireball!
Fireball!”

I'm nearly out of health. I grit my teeth and tap out a combo. One final fireball, one final strike.
The screen flashes seizure-inducing yellow and white. The blob-monster is dead, and so is my
sprite. Only Craig's sprite still stands as the triumphant chiptune fanfare plays.
“Fuck!” It comes out halfway between a snarl and a sigh. “Well, it was mutually assured
destruction anyway.”

“Don't worry, I'll revive you as soon as I get to the checkpoint.”

I sigh again, tossing the controller aside. “I don't wanna play anymore.”

Craig pauses the game, frowning at me. “What's wrong, Z?”

I sink down, pulling a pillow over my face. “I don't know. I don't fucking know. It's all weird.”

“Because Taylor's back?”

“Duh.”

“Hey, I know it's weird, but...it's still a good thing, right?”

“...Maybe...if she's really back...” I grunt, letting my hands fall away so that the pillow balances
on my face. “...I'm happy to see her, obviously. But I'd just gotten used to the idea that she was
actually gone. ...Seeing her last night by the bonfire...it was like when all of you found me in the
temple and then fastforward to The Celestial, when we thought there were only two choices,
Rourke's way or the Endless'.”

Craig lifts the pillow slightly, peeking under it. “Look...I get that. But let's just concentrate on
enjoying the time we have with her, okay? Even if it's temporary.”

“And if she disappears again, what's that gonna do to Jake? Are we gonna end up losing him,
too?” I swallow hard. “...I don't care about a lot of people, Craig...but all of us...we...”

“We what...?”

“We're a family, okay? There, I said it! If we lose Taylor again, I've got a very bad feeling Jake
goes with her! And not right away, but one of those slow, painful, terrible-to-
watch death deaths where we watch him destroy himself! I'm not prepared to deal with that,
Craig! I'm not!”

“Well, we're not gonna let that happen.”

I ignore his reassurances. “And what about the fucking crystal that probably started it all?!
What's that mean, huh?!”

“Hey, hey! If it's a Vaanu crystal, no better people to handle it than the Catalysts, right?”

“The whole concept of the Catalysts is a stable time loop. Like Jake turning himself in to
Arachnid. Taylor...the Endless...only ever existed because the eleven of us made it to the island.
The eleven of us made it to the island because the Endless existed and Rourke brought us here
to find her.”

“Trippy to think about, isn't it.”

I take the pillow off my face and whack him with it. “Pay attention, Player Two!”

“I am paying attention, Z. I hear ya. But you know that worrying isn't going to change anything.
We'll deal with the crystal and everything else when we get home.”

I want to argue, but what could I argue? It's not like he's wrong. I can't change anything just by
worrying. But if telling people not to worry ever actually made them stop, no one would ever
worry.

“...I was just getting used to this life...”

“You think Taylor coming back is gonna cause security problems at R.I.?”

“I...what?” I frown. “Probably...maybe. ...It might complicate things...”

“Think she's gonna take your band away?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

He grins, waggling his eyebrows. “Think she's gonna fall in love with me?”

Against my will, I fill myself smiling. “Idiot.”

“Think I'm gonna fall in love with her?”

“Maybe she'll fall in love with me,” I retort.

“And then I'll fall in love with Jake?”

“And we'll all have one massive orgy.”

“Sounds like fun. I'm in.”

I sigh, rolling her eyes. “All right, scrublord, you've made your point. Now get your sexy ass
over here and kiss me before I get pissed off.” He laughs, obediently laying himself over me and
kissing my mouth. “Good boy. I got you well-trained.”

“What's your pleasure now, Player One? Keep going after blob-monsters? Sneak to the kitchen
and raid for leftovers?”
“...I think you're overdressed for what I have in mind.”

“Oh, good. That's kinda what I was hoping for.”

“You better have been.”

Raj

I wake up early the next morning. We're bound for Elyys'tel this afternoon, and of course I'm in
charge of packing food for the journey. And for making breakfast. I get some music going on my
phone, slip some earbuds in, and hum to myself while I cook. I'm not sure how much time has
passed before I turn around and see Taylor lingering in the doorway. I yelp, almost dropping
the carton of juice I'm holding. She laughs.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.”

I chuckle, pulling out my earbuds. “Not your fault. I was kinda in my own world.”

“Am I interrupting?”

“Never. Come on in.” She does, going to the table to sit down. Her hair is damp, and she's
wearing different clothes than she was yesterday. “New clothes?”

“Borrowed an outfit from Michelle.”

“...Jake isn't going to wake up and come down here in a panic, is he?”

“Don't worry, he knows where I am. I told him to get a little more sleep. ...We're leaving for
Elyys'tel today, right?”

“Yeah, this afternoon.”

She stretches her arms over her head, sighing luxuriously. “Whatever you're making smells
amazing.”

I grin. “You've had a pretty good appetite since you got back.”

Her smile is sheepish, almost embarrassed. “I'm not sure it's going to last once I'm not eating
your cooking every meal. But it might. Just having the taste of food in my mouth again, the act
of chewing and swallowing...it's like I'm experiencing everything for the first time.”
“Really?”

“When I was part of Vaanu, I was basically incorporeal. Anything I can experience with my own
senses is amazing right now. Sleeping was basically a religious experience. And I won't even get
started on sex.”

“So...it's like you're high.”

“On LSD and the best weed you've ever had, all blended with Elyys'tel tree sap.”

“That sounds...awesome!”

“For now it is. ...But...I'm a little scared about what happens when we go back to the States.”

“Why's that?”

“Because even if I have memories now, everything I've ever really known is on this island...”

I consider for a moment. “...You could probably stay here if you want to. The Vaanti would be
happy to have you. I know Jake will stay wherever you want to stay. And that is what the
Endless wanted.”
“I am not the Endless, though.” She sighs. “...I'm scared to face that world. But...I have
a life waiting for me out there. ...Somewhere in California, I have an aunt and an uncle who
haven't seen me in five years. I can't say I was ever very close to them...but I'm sure they loved
me in their own way. And I have a feeling they want me back. And...honestly, I kinda want them
back, too. Even if I never really had them in the first place.”

“What are they like?”

She sighs, closing her eyes. “Aunt Molly was my mother's only sister, and the only living relative
I had after my parents died. She and Uncle Rob never wanted kids of their own, but they also
didn't want to give me up to the state when I was all that was left of Aunt Molly's sister. That's
why they hired Diego's mom to be my nanny.” She opens her eyes again. “They
weren't...unkind, usually. They had plenty of money, and they spoiled me more than a little. But
they were never...warm with me. Not really.”

I have to pause to put a hand on her shoulder. “And you're sure you want to go back? You saved
the world, Taylor. That doesn't mean you have to live in it.”

“But I do want to. I'm just a little nervous, that's all. ...What is that you're making?”

“Masala dosa. Another of Grandma's best recipes.”

“She must be so proud of you.”

“Yeah...” I reply softly. “She was.”

Her face falls. “...Was?”

“She passed away last winter.”

“Oh...oh, god...Raj, I'm so sorry...”

I smile. “Hey, don't worry. You didn't know. Besides, she was ninety-four. Didn't suffer at all,
either. No major loss of brain function or mobility. She had a little harder time getting around in
the last years, and in the last few months, she got tired quicker and couldn't follow
conversations as easy. But she was still with her family, and that was where she wanted to be.
Lived to see her cooking lessons pay off, too. Went to bed one night, happy and content...just let
go...” I turn away when I hear my voice break, feeling tears cloud my eyes. “...She lived a good
life. If I live half as long and full as she did, I'll die happy, too...”

I hear Taylor moving behind me. Then she slips her arm through mine and rests her head
against my shoulder.

“In the end, she had the best death anyone could ask for their loved ones. Doesn't make it any
easier for those left behind, does it.”

“Nah. Never does. But it's like you said. It was the best death anyone could hope for anyone
they love. None of us last forever. It's what you do with the time you have that matters.” I grin,
reaching over to ruffle her hair. “Which kinda makes you the high queen of life.”

She laughs. “Me or the Endless?”

“Two sides of the same coin. A coin named Taylor.”

“Or Vaanu... The Endless' goal was to keep you all safe on this island. To protect you forever.
But she had given up on the world outside. She was willing to let it burn to protect the only
people she loved. To give you all paradise and to live with you in that paradise. ...But I couldn't
do what she wanted. Because there's no point in paradise when the rest of the world is hell.”
She looks up at me. “That's actually why I want to go Riverside. Why I want to find the family
that's been created for me. I mean, all of you are still my true family. But I don't want to waste
this second chance I've been given. Now that Vaanu is free and La Huerta is safe and all of you
are thriving, I don't want to just hide away for whatever time I have left here.”

“Hey, whatever you want, you know we're behind you one-hundred percent. I still say you've
earned the right to lounge on the beach for the rest of your natural life, though. Wanna try
some masala dosa?”

“Do I ever!” Tickled by her enthusiasm, I carefully tear off a piece, dipping it in chutney and
sambhar before holding it out for her. She takes it carefully, eating with obvious relish. “Oh...my
god...perfection...”
I chuckle. “This full-time high of yours is going to be fun while it lasts.”

“For me or you?”

“Both.” I grin and turn back to the stove, checking on the rest of the breakfast feast.

“...Hey...do you think women who actually have aunts named Flo get annoyed by that
euphemism?”

“...Uh...what?”

“You know. A woman named Flora or Florence or something, who goes by the nickname Flo.
Say she has a brother or a sister who has a daughter. Every time she goes to visit her niece, her
niece tells people that her Aunt Flo is going to be in town, and the first thing they assume is that
she's on her period.”

I stare at her, blinking. “...Is this part of that full-time high?”

She shrugs. “Probably. ...I told Jake that sex was weird last night.”

I laugh. “Okay, this is definitely going to be fun.”

“Can I help you cook?”

“Absolutely. Here. I'll show you what to do.”

Estela

Excitement has been in the air since breakfast. Under the afternoon sun, for the fifth time in as
many years, we cross the jungle towards Elyys'tel. But this time, Taylor is with us. She's as
giddy as a child, and her enthusiasm is infectious. Even Reginald, who has been decidedly
cranky for the past few months as he's cut his first few teeth, seems unable to avoid being
swept up by her mood. Eventually though, hunger and the hot sun wear his patience thin, and
he starts to howl again. We all stop to rest and feed ourselves while Grace settles down to nurse
her son. Taylor watches with fascination, but when Grace glances up at her, she blushes and
looks away.

“...Was I being creepy? Sorry.”

“Well, it isn't as if we're strangers,” Grace replies, smiling a little. “But you did seem a
little...enthralled.”
“It's only because she's basically high right now,” Raj explains.

Taylor makes a face. “What Raj means is that I am still getting used to being inside a human
body again. So I hope no one will freak out if I act a little bit strangely for awhile.”

Grace laughs. “Don't worry, I think I can relate a little. Having another living person growing
inside me altered my senses in ways that I didn't think were possible. Actually, I bet you and
Reggie would have a lot to talk about if he could talk.” When Reggie's had his fill, Grace shifts
him to her shoulder and burps him. “Estela, you want to carry him for the next leg?”

“If it's all right with you, I would love to.”

Grace grins at Taylor. “Estela is very good with him.”

In spite of myself, I blush at the compliment as I strap myself into the papoose and settle my
little nephew inside.

“Well...I might as well say it. I may not be thrilled about who my father is, but I did get a decent
brother and sister-in-law out of the deal, and an even better nephew.”

“There is no need to get sentimental, Estela,” Aleister scoffs, but he can't quite hide the smile
tugging at the corner of his mouth. Taylor beams, her eyes shimmering.

“...God, I love you guys...”

“Everyone ready to move on?” Jake asks, standing. Craig groans.

“What's the rush, bro? We just sat down.”

“Well, we've still got a ways to go if we're gonna reach Elyys'tel by nightfall. Besides, I have a
feeling you're gonna wanna move.”

“Huh? What're you talking abo--”

“Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaig!” Craig turns just in time to see a diminuitive blue figure streak out of
the trees and barrel into him. In his surprise, he yelps and tips over into the dirt. Taari laughs
delightedly. “I tackled you!”

“Sneaky kid!” Craig snorts, pushing the Vaanti boy off him and sitting up to pull him into a
headlock. Taari giggles, flailing and slapping at Craig's arms.

“Let me go, Craig!”

“No way! By next year, you're gonna be too big for me to headlock! I'm taking advantage while I
still can!” But after a light noogie, he lets the boy go. Jake snickers, holding out his hand for
Taari to clap.

“Nice going, Blueberry. He never saw you coming.”

“That's Taari?!” Taylor gasps.

“Of course it's me!” Taari says reproachfully, turning to face her. When he sees who just said
that, his jaw drops. “...Taylor...?”

Taylor lifts her hand, giving a little wave. For once Taari seems to be at a loss for words,
standing slack-jawed as a handful of Vaanti warriors emerge from the trees with T'kal beside
them.

“Have we been properly announced, Taari?” Varyyn quips. “Because if we have...”

The stunned silence envelopes them, too. None of them can take their eyes off the small blonde
woman who stands among us, blushing under their disbelieving gaze. Her earlier merriment
seems to have given way to anxiety. She puts me in mind of a frightened child on her first day of
school as she edges closer to Jake. Finally, Varyyn clears his throat.

“Well. This is indeed an auspicious day. Taari, perhaps you will accept the honor of going ahead
to tell Elyyshar Seraxa that the Endless has returned to us.”

***

The news has already traveled through the Elyys'tel by the time we make it there. Seraxa,
wearing the sheer drop veil of a female elyyshar, is waiting to meet us. Her eyes find Taylor
right away and immediately fill with tears.

“So it is true...” she whispers. She gulps, approaching with her hand outstretched. “...My
friend...welcome home.”

Taylor clasps the extended forearm. “I am so glad to be back here.”

“Come. Come to the main platform. I will officially announce your return.” She hurries us up
into the branches of Elyys'tel, up to the main platform outside the audience chamber. As we
pass, Vaanti stream from their homes to catch a glimpse of the Twelfth Catalyst.

Five years ago, Varyyn had sculpted the narrative that explained how the battle against Rourke
ended to his people. The twelve catalysts together had defeated the Hydra and prevented
Raan'losti, he told them. Eleven of us had survived to return to our own people across the sea,
with the promise that we would not forget our friends in Elyys'tel. But the twelfth, the one who
had become the Endless, had sacrificed her body to defeat the Hydra, returning her soul to the
stars. Would she one day return? He could not say. I didn't understand then why he didn't say
no, that she would not come back. Now I'm glad he didn't commit to one answer. Perhaps he
always knew she would return, since their minds had once been linked. But I doubt he ever
imagined it would be so soon.

On the main platform, Seraxa raises her hands and a silence settles over the Vaanti. “My people!
Each year on this day, we welcome back the eleven Catalysts who brought us through
Raan'losti! But today is truly a joyous day, for today we welcome back the twelfth child of the
stars! We thought Raan'losti had claimed her, but by the grace of Vaanu, she has returned!”

“By the grace of Vaanu indeed,” Taylor mutters out of the side of her mouth. Her smile looks a
little stiff as she waves awkwardly at the cheering Vaanti crowds.

“Uh, Elyyshar Seraxa?” Diego murmurs. “I think Taylor is feeling a little overwhelmed right
now. Think we could get her out of the public eye for a little while?”

“Hmm? Oh! Of course, of course. Come inside the audience hall.”

She ushers us all inside, and we make ourselves comfortable. I pass my nephew back to his
father. Seraxa's attention remains mostly on Taylor.

“This is quite a happy ocassion, old friend. But most unexpected. The Vaanti grieved for you
when Varyyn told us what had happened. As we understand it, we owe Raan'losti's safe
resolution to you.”

“...I would try to be humble about it, but it's true,” Taylor replies a little tiredly. “...I don't know
if Varyyn explained, but it turns out that I am a true daughter of Vaanu. I was created from its
energy and the hopes and dreams and fears of the other Catalysts. I had no existence beyond
the Island, and I was in fact the missing piece of the Island's Heart. In the end, Vaanu revealed
to me that there were three paths I could have taken. I could have given the Hydra what he
asked for, and in return, he would have given me a complete human existence, but I would have
sacrificed the Vaanti to do so. I could have returned the stolen energy to the Island's Heart and
Raan'losti would have been prevented, but the world outside this island would have burned.
...What I ultimately chose was to save both the Vaanti and the human world outside. But that
meant giving myself back to Vaanu.”

Seraxa takes this in stride, nodding thoughtfully. “...Varyyn told us that you had returned to the
stars, sacrificing your body to defeat the Hydra and stop Raan'losti. He did not explain in great
detail.”

“The details do not seem to surprise you.”

“...After everything, do you think it would surprise me that the one who became the Endless
was more than an average human? Or that she might have been faced with temptation as all
great heroes are?”
Taylor smiles wryly. “...I recall you once enthusiastically calling for our deaths because you
feared we might destroy you.”

“The Three Tribes War had left me jaded and angry,” she concedes. “And embittered towards
what you taught us as the Endless. For years, I had barely even believed in you. I was fully
prepared to hate you. But then you saved Taari's life.”

“...And yet Uqzhaal turned on me when he learned the truth,” Taylor murmurs. “He had been so
keen to argue on our behalf, but when he learned the truth of my identity, he tried to have me
poisoned.”

“I fear Uqzhaal never truly saw you, my friend,” Seraxa replies solemnly. “I freely admit that I
was far too hot-blooded and battle-hungry when we first met, but I do not think I was ever
wrong in thinking that Uqzhaal was too fanatical in his faith. ...For all the value and truth in the
teachings of the Endless, his faith could not withstand the revelation that they had come from a
human who acted out of love for her own people, not his.”

“But yours could?”

“What was left of it,” she chuckles. “Truth be told, it made perfect sense to me. I had come to
know a young woman who rather reminded me of myself in her passion and hotheadedness. To
protect my people, I had called for the slaughter of twelve young people who had been thrown
into the thick of something they barely comprehended. It was not hard to empathize when the
Endless' motivation was explained. ...Besides, by the time I learned the truth of you, Raan'losti
had come and ended peacefully, and you had sacrificed yourself to save us. It would have been
ungracious of me to hold against you the fact that the Vaanti could not keep from fighting
amongst themselves.”

Taylor smiles gratefully. “...Perhaps there is something to be said for being a skeptic.”

“...I have to ask though...why have you returned?”

“Why or how? Both questions have very complicated answers and I'm not entirely sure I have
all the facts in either case. ...I didn't want to give up my humanity or my existence. I wanted to
stay with my friends. I gave myself up to save everyone, but I didn't want to stay away. I was
always reaching back. What actually gave me the power to regain human form, I am not certain.
...But...”

She trails off. As her silence continues, Seraxa starts to look concerned. Varyyn exhales slowly.

“...Seraxa, Taylor's reappearance has coincided with an event in the human world involving a
time crystal.”

“...What? But that's impossible. You told me that the time crystals vanished when the soul of
Vaanu returned to the stars...”
“They did. On our island. But it seems a rival of the Hydra managed to smuggle one off the
island many years ago.”

“We're not entirely sure that the crystal did come from La Huerta,” I say quickly. “But the
timing is decidedly suspicious. Still, there is no reason to panic. Legally, La Huerta belongs to
me and to Aleister, and we intend to continue protecting the Vaanti as we always have.”

“...But we shouldn't be cavalier, either,” Taylor says lowly. “...Jake...you said there was a missing
persons report on me?”

“Yeah. ...A cold case. Five years old. I think as far as the outside world is going to be concerned
now, you disappeared on La Huerta.”

“Not inaccurate. But now I'm back. I think we are going to have to control the narrative very
carefully here. If the authorities have any reason to investigate La Huerta further, it could lead
them straight to the Vaanti. I don't intend to let that happen.”

“Is it as complicated as all that?” Aleister wonders. “Surely it was presumed that you were a
victim of my father's madness.”

“Were none of you ever questioned about me? If I won the same trip the rest of you did, if the
name Taylor Chandler was on the list of winners, surely someone would have asked why I
didn't come back with you.”

“Well, yes, but at the time...” I trail off, frowning. Of course, at the time we returned from the
island, Taylor Chandler didn't exist in the outside world. But just like that, I can remember
being questioned on the missing contest winner. “...We were. We were questioned.”

“What did you say?”

“I...I'm not sure...”

“Rourke was accused of kidnapping us,” Michelle points out. “And he did always take a special
interest in Taylor.”

“He called her 'The Mystery,' once,” Sean confirms. “He probably realized she had a connection
to the Endless even before he knew she was the Endless.”

“...There was one timeline where he stuck me in a stasis pod for five years,” Taylor remarks.
“Maybe that's where I've been.”

I shake my head. “The authorities did investigate the remains of The Celestial and MASADA and
the LHO, and found the hotel guests. Why wouldn't they have found you?”

“Perhaps Rourke had me holed up somewhere special. If he had managed to get the totally
crazy idea that I was some sort of alien/angel creature whose power he could harness...”
“He was raving about 'crystal people' at his trial,” Zahra sneers. “Maybe he thought you were
one of those.”

“...He did,” Diego says darkly. “...It's just like we told them. Why he took such an interest in Allie
particularly was never clear, but we didn't really think there was much logic to it. The man's
insane, after all.”

Even as he says it, I can remember telling the authorities that Rourke had become obsessed
with Taylor over the six months we were there.

“...How did it happen?” I ask slowly. “How did it happen that one day you were there with us
and the next, you were gone?”

“...I think...” Jake replies thoughtfully, “...that's basically all we told them. Rourke kept us
together for the most part, but at one point, he took Taylor off somewhere in the Observatory
and we just...didn't get her back.”

We all know it didn't actually happen that way. We knew it then. But just like that, we can
remember feeding that line to the authorities. Explaining why Taylor Chandler never came
back from the island, even though we all knew she had never existed until we entered the time
bubble. Time appears to be repairing itself around Taylor's return, retconning her into the
world. And as the only ones who know the truth, it is the Catalysts' duty to conceal the seams.
Diego shivers a little.

“I'm not sure if this feels more like Doctor Who or Bill and Ted, but either way, I'm expecting to
turn around and find a phone booth behind me.”

“Either way, it's making my brain hurt,” Craig grumbles. Diego elbows him lightly.

“What are you complaining about? I've got twenty years worth of new memories I'm trying to
sort out!”

“Twenty years, two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine time loops, plus five years as an
incorporeal crystal alien,” Taylor counters, smirking. “Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

Zahra snorts with laughter. “Gotta admit, she's got everyone beat here.”

Taylor frowns suddenly. “...Did anyone talk to my family? My aunt and uncle? Jake, did you...?”

Jake shakes his head. “I never told anyone but my sister that I'd been married to you. ...Also you
came up a few times in the last five years when I...well...”

“...Had sex,” she finishes gently. “And dated. You've already told me you had other partners, you
don't need to be afraid of saying it aloud. I don't hold it against you.”
“Right. Well...in any case, I know you weren't all that close with your legal guardians. I felt
awkward intruding on them and having to explain who I was.”

“I've kept up with them a little,” Diego says. “But we had kinda become strangers since you and
I left for college. I wasn't much comfort to them.”

“I wonder if they'd even be all that glad to have me back.” She sighs. “...Estela, can I talk to you
privately for a moment?”

I start a little at the request. “Uh...sure. Let's go outside.”

We step outside the audience chamber and cross the bridge to the opposite platform. Taylor
begins pacing agitatedly. I step back to let her, watching quietly for a moment. But when her
silence stretches on, I clear my throat. Her breath shudders as she inhales.

“Estela, I have a question. It's going to sound crazy, even by our standards. So, when I ask it, I
would take it as a personal favor if you did not stare at me like I've just sprouted a second
head.”

“I find it hard to believe you could ask me anything that would sound that crazy.”

She exhales slowly. “...Have you seen your mother?”

Chapter 5: The Pebble in the Pond

Summary:
Fun and games in Elyys'tel as the annual Catalyst reunion continues!
Chapter Text

Estela

I probably should have known better than to get cocky. As the silence stretches on between us,
her mouth twists sulkily. “Come on, Estela, I really didn't want you to look at me like that...”

“Sorry. It's just...my mother is...”

“Dead. I know. But so was Mike when I gave myself back to Vaanu. And he turned up alive. I
think I felt guilty leaving Jake less than an hour after he watched Mike die again, and I begged
Vaanu for that one favor. But...I can't imagine that I wouldn't have...no...I'm sure I did at least
ask if you could have your mother back, too...”
She's speaking so quickly that her words barely have time to register before I'm focusing on her
next sentence. But then she abruptly trails off, and my brain has a chance to catch up.

“...It's...been five years,” I say slowly. “If somehow my mother was restored, I can't imagine that
she wouldn't have come back to San Trobida sooner than this...”

Taylor's shoulders sag. She looks disappointed. More disappointed than I feel. Perhaps I should
be more crushed, but the truth is that it has been eleven years now since my mother's death,
and such a fleeting, barely believable glimmer of hope is too little to excite me. It doesn't even
feel disloyal to admit it.

“...I'm sorry, Estela. I just hoped...”

“It's all right. It's not your fault.”

“That whole moment is just...such a blur...”

“Why not come back inside?”

“...No...I think I need some fresh air. You go on, though. I'm just going to wander a bit.”

Quinn

No one can help being curious and worried when Estela returns to the audience hall alone, but
she quickly assures us that nothing is wrong.

“She...was wondering if it was possible my mother had been restored along with Mike. I think
she's a little disappointed that she wasn't.”

“I...should I go after her?” Jake asks uncertainly. “I...don't want to crowd her...but...”

“Let her have a few minutes to herself,” I reply. “She's in Elyys'tel. No one here is going to let
any harm come to her.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets, pouting a little. “I know...It's just...”

Sean puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we all get it, man. But you said yourself you don't want
to crowd her.”

“She must be feeling so crazy disoriented right now,” Diego sighs. “A little solitude might do her
a world of good.”
“Why don't we all go down to the beach?” Varyyn suggests. “Taari has been eager to play with
you.”

As we make our way down to the beach, we spot Taylor on one of the far platforms, stretched
out on her back with her hands laced behind her bed, staring up into the magnificent canopy
above her.

On the beach, Taari immediately claims Estela and Zahra to team up with him for quuk'tanoi.
Varyyn, Seraxa, and Diego volunteer to oppose them.

“You gonna earn your mask today, buddy?” Diego asks, grinning.

“I'm gonna try!” Taari replies.

“Do not imagine we will go easy on you,” Varyyn warns. Taari scoffs.

“You never do anyway. Even if I wanted you to, you wouldn't.”

“That's right.”

The six of them gather their sailboards and splash into the ocean. The others drift off towards
various games and activities set up on the beach. It's like the Valinorim all over again. Except
that this time, it's in honor of the Catalysts. I amuse myself with the children, playing a game
that involves seashells and coconuts until I spot Taylor hovering near the treeline like a
seventh grader at a dance working up the nerve to ask her crush onto floor. I smile, wandering
over to her.

“Thinking of joining us? You're welcome to, of course.”

She smiles a little. “...The last time I played Vaanti games was at the Valinorim.”

I chuckle. “I was just thinking of that myself.”

“...I was more remembering what had happened before that.”

I feel my smile slip. “You mean when you saved my life with the Island's Heart.”

She nods. “...Do you remember much of what happened on that bridge?”

“Not...too much. I...I was fading. It was hard to focus on anything. I don't even think I really
realized what was happening to me.”

“I knew exactly what was happening. I had seen it before, when we both touched your idol on
Sharktooth Isle. That's why I started crying then. Because I had just watched you die in my
arms on a bridge in Elyys'tel. I didn't realize then how soon it was going to happen. When it
started to happen in front of me...I begged you not to go. I was furious and terrified that this
was happening when I hadn't had a chance to stop it yet. And if I couldn't save you...”

“You did, though. You saved all of us. Everything.” She reaches out a hand to me, and I take it,
squeezing.

“I never really had the chance to explain about those idols, did I.”

“Well, you told us that you were watching us die, and I think we all guessed those were visions
of previous timelines, but...we never got details, no.”

“It wasn't just your deaths that I saw. I saw visions from your pasts, too. It's how I knew that
Michelle never actually cheated on Sean...” She trails off, frowning. “...Wait...did they ever tell
you guys about that? Did I just blab someone's embarrassing secret?”

“No, don't worry. Michelle told me. But I don't know how many of the others know.”

“...Right...well...I saw visions from your pasts. From before the island. Everyone's except Diego's.
...I don't know why I never questioned that...”

“Wait, but...you had an idol, too. Did...you see your own past?”

“...I saw myself talking to Diego, encouraging him to go to the party he'd been talking about all
week. ...I suppose if that actually happened, he was talking to himself...”

“Did...you see your own death?”

“No. Worse. Just before you collapsed on the bridge, I saw myself alone, digging eleven graves.”

As the gravity of her words settles in, I shudder. “I guess that must have made you pretty
desperate.”

“I would have been desperate either way. But yes. That vision made everything that much
larger.”

“You know...I never actually knew you were the Endless, or the missing piece of the Island's
Heart...but from the time I was cured, I was able to sense that you were...different somehow.
That you were connected to the same spirit that was riding inside me. There was an energy in
you that matched the one in me, but it seemed like it was...locked behind something.”

“In retrospect, that makes perfect sense. ...Why didn't you tell me?”

“Probably for the same reason you never told us about the visions from the idols. A
combination of fear and a desire not to face a bunch of questions I didn't have answers to.”
“Fair enough.” She is quiet for a long moment. “Do you...feel anything of Vaanu now?”

“...Not that I can tell, no. I figure it took itself out of me when it left.”

“But presumably Silas Prescott's crystal had enough energy to bring me back.” She sighs. “I
wish I could remember more about Vaanu's home planet...about what the crystals actually
were. The crystals weren't Vaanu itself. They weren't actually part of its body or its spirit. That
was the Island's Heart...and...the crystal pillar...” She hisses suddenly, grimacing, bringing a
hand up to clutch her head.

“Are you okay?”

“I'm getting the feeling I'm going to get tired of that question,” she replies wryly. In spite of
myself, I chuckle.

“I know the feeling.”

She lifts her head to smile at me. For a long moment, she is quiet, just looking at me. I look back,
willing myself to be patient, to wait until she feels that she can say what's on her mind. I refuse
to push her.

“...Do you remember after you were cured, when you told me about feeling a kind of...grief?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you ever feel...overwhelmed? By the thought of living a full life? Finishing school, finding a
job, possibly getting married and having a family? Growing old?”

“Of course. ...Is...that what you're feeling now?”

“Yeah. Of course. I mean, I didn't live with the idea that it wouldn't happen as long as you did.
When things got hard, I would imagine my future. But...in retrospect, the future I imagined was
all about you guys. Everything Vaanu showed us. You founding a non-profit, Diego writing a
book, Jake clearing his name, Sean becoming a football star...all I really imagined for myself was
living with Jake, and maybe having his kids...”

“Do you not want that anymore?”

“Oh, I still want it, don't you worry about that. At least, I still want him. And his kids if he wants
any. I like the idea of having kids, but I don't need them if he doesn't. Either way, though...that
might be something for further down the line. But my point is that because I was born for all of
you...I never truly thought about a future for myself outside of you. And then that became moot.
But now...”

“Now there's a world of possibility in front of you.”

“Yeah. And I don't really know where to start.”

I feel a kind of relief flooding through me at that. I expect she and the others may have felt
something similar when I started to talk about the future as something I needed to prepare for.

“What was your major at Hartfeld?”

“History, I think. With a minor in dance.”

“Oh, that's right. You were a dancer, weren't you? I think I remember that...”

“Yup. And a gymnast. I was pretty good at it, too. But I didn't have nearly the dedication to
make an Olympic career out of it or anything.”

“Do you know what you wanted to do with your history degree?”

“...Walk through the world and get to know the people who walked that ground thousands of
years before me...”

I feel a chill creep over my shoulders. There's something terribly beautiful and haunting in the
sentiment.

“Well...I'm sure you can take a little time to figure it out. As far as the world is concerned you've
been lost for five years. I'm sure everyone will forgive you if you don't dive right into the
business of paying bills and taxes.”

“You're probably right. ...But it's still scary to think about.”

“Of course it is. But that's why it's okay not to rush into it.”

She frowns a little. “...Hey...why is Murphy still around?”

“...I...think you would know better than I would.”

“T'kal is still here, too. What about the Yeti?”

“We...haven't seen her since Vaanu left. Or Cetus, or any of the Guardians. I think Cetus and the
Shore Guardian are still dead. But I don't know about the Deep Guardian. We haven't had much
reason to go into the volcano.”

“...But clearly, not all of the anomalies were taken away...”

“Maybe...it just wasn't possible to undo everything...”

“Maybe not. ...Vaanu's arrival sent a shockwave over the planet. Compared to that, T'kal and
Murphy and I are just pebbles thrown in a pond. What concerns me is that any one of us has the
potential to make waves.”

“But you don't think you have the power to break reality like Vaanu?”

“I don't think so, no.”

“And if you don't, I doubt that T'kal or Murphy do, either.”

“You're probably right,” she sighs. For a moment, she is quiet, looking out over the water. The
quuk'tanoi game is tied two-to-two. Taari just barely manages to keep Varyyn from ending it
with the winning goal. Her gaze shifts to further down the beach. In somewhat shallower water,
a series of narrow wooden posts rise above water's rippling surface. I remember Michelle and
Craig facing off against Varyyn and Diego in that event at the Valinorim. The dueling staves are
lying on the sand. Taylor abruptly strips down to the bathing suit I've loaned her for the week
and starts toward the water.

“Where are you going?”

“To see if I still have the right stuff.”

She wades into the ocean, swimming out to the posts and mounting the nearest one in a single
graceful motion. She balances carefully on its flat, narrow top, barely large enough for the balls
of both her feet. She starts tentatively at first, just stepping from one post to the next. Gradually,
she starts to fold in a pirouette or two. Jake and Sean take notice and start to wander over,
followed by a few of the others. Taylor starts to add in some handstands and flips. A crowd of
Vaanti and Catalysts starts to form as she starts to move faster and more artistically. One of the
Vaanti begins pounding out a rhythm for her on a traditional drum. She moves with it, dancing
over the posts with cat-like balance and grace. Some of the Vaanti start singing and chanting. I
find myself clapping to the beat of the drummer. It seems to motivate her. She is dancing for an
audience now, aiming to impress and inspire. Finally, she stills, ending in a crouch on the center
post. Even from the shore, I can see the sweat glistening on her skin and the way her breasts
heave with exertion. The crowd erupts into enthusiastic applause and cheers.

I notice Jake starting into the water, his pace somewhat hurried as he swims out to the posts. I
quickly realize why as Taylor wobbles slightly in her attempt to slip off the post and into the
water. She could probably do with a little help getting back to shore. She's trembling a little as
she climbs out of the water, leaning on Jake. She smiles sheepishly.

“I think I'm going to be feeling that in the morning.”

“Maybe, but that was frickin' awesome!” Craig exclaims. “Where did you learn to do that?!”

“Uh...gymnastics classes? I think the real question should be where I learned to do that in the
timeline where I never existed before the island.”
“Well, that's easy,” Diego remarks. “Being able to do cool stunts was one of the superhero
powers I imagined for you.”

She snorts. “That's not a power, that's a skill. Couldn't you have given me the power of flight or
something? I've always wanted to fly.”

“What, time travel isn't good enough for you?”

“Well, you didn't dream that up for me, that was a side effect of being part-alien.”

Diego grins. “...I challenge anyone to say they've got a cooler best friend than I do.”

“Next time we play quuk'tanoi,” Taari declares, “she's on my team!”

I start a little at the sound of his voice. I am embarrassed to admit that I missed the end of the
game.

“How did you do out there, Taari?”

“He has not yet earned his mask,” Varyyn says. “But it will not be long. He put up a good fight.”

“Say, I got an idea,” Jake pipes up. “I'm guessing Taylor needs to rest tonight after that display,
but what's say tomorrow we get the old dream team back together? Me, Cap, and Princess
against Varyyn, Seraxa, and Taari.”

“Well, I'm game if Taylor is,” Sean says, grinning.

“I...I don't know. It's been years since I played...”

“It's been years since you were on a balance beam, too,” Diego points out.

“After that display, I'd be more concerned about those two weighing you down,” Seraxa agrees,
nodding at Jake and Sean with a smirk.

“Hey, watch it,” Jake retorts. “Remember what underestimating us got you last time.”

“Well...” Taylor smiles, and I can see her trying to hide her eagerness. “We'll see how my body
feels in the morning. If I'm walking like an old lady, I'm out.”

Varyyn
We spend the last daylight hours in play on the shore. Taylor appears to have recovered from
whatever melancholy mood had gripped her earlier. Though her performance on the sparring
poles has exhausted her, she engages in conversation, laughing and telling jokes with the
Catalysts and the Vaanti. She listens eagerly to Taari's stories of the last five years in Elyys'tel,
and shares in the feasting back in the village.

The skies have turned dark by the time the feasting is over. Seraxa has shuffled Taari off to bed,
and the Catalysts have drifted off towards their beds. When Diego begins yawning, I encourage
him to wait for me in our hammock, but I am not quite ready to join him there. At first, I'm not
sure what it is that compels me to make my way up the top platform instead of joining my
beloved in blissful sleep, but the urge is to overwhelming to ignore. When I arrive there, I find
Taylor, staring out at the stars glittering above the ocean. I stop dead in my tracks when I
realize what precisely drew me up here.

… I can still feel her. Her presence remains on the edges of my mind, a consciousness separate
from my own. For five years, it was gone. But I must have felt it return the same moment she
did.

“Anlashokk,” I murmur.

“You feel it too, then?” she asks in Vaanti.

“I did not realize it until now. But yes. I do. We are still linked.”

“So we are.”

“Do you suppose it means anything?”

“As far as I can tell, it means that I am the daughter of Vaanu, and you are Vaanti, whose
ancestors imbibed the sap from the tree nurtured by my parent's energy. It means that on a
beach five and a half years ago, you touched my forehead and broke the barrier between our
minds so that we could communicate. ...It means that we are who we are, and that has not been
fundamentally altered either by Vaanu's leaving this planet or my returning to it.”

“...Do you want Diego or the others to know?”

She sighs, leaning back against Elyys'tel's massive trunk. “I do not think it should be a secret,
but I do not feel the need to tell them, either. I do not mind if you tell Diego. Perhaps I will tell
the others in time, if it feels necessary.”

I nod. “It is your decision.”

She is quiet for a long time. When she speaks again, it is in English. “Varyyn? How come you
never turned on me? When you learned that I was the Endless?”
I could tell her that she was never really the Endless, that the Endless was an alternate version
of herself, but part of the advantage of having her in my mind is knowing when I would only be
wasting words. It would not comfort her to hear that. But I believe the truth might.

“Because of Diego.”

She sighs. “I see. Because he loves me and you love him, you couldn't hate me.”

“No. Well, yes. But that's not why I didn't turn on you.”

“I don't follow.”

It is my turn to be silent for awhile, looking out over the still, peaceful water. “...Do you
remember the previous timelines? Those lives you lived before?”

“Not all of them. And not all the time. I think they've been largely repressed as a matter of self-
preservation.”

“...The Endless went back to change the Vaanti because the meeting between the Vaanti and the
Catalysts always ended with the Catalysts slaughtered.”

“...Yes.”

“...Do you...do you know if I was ever there?”

The look she passes to me suggests that she had never considered the question before. “I...I
don't know, Varyyn. I suppose it's possible some version of you was there. Though...you
probably were not recognizable. Whatever version of Varyyn lived in those timelines before the
Endless changed you would have been feral like the other Vaanti. Part of what makes you the
Varyyn we know is your upbringing. And you were raised with the Endless' teachings.”

The relief that floods through me is so strong that I feel my knees weaken, but I manage to stay
upright, gripping the rope support in front of me. A knot of tears crystalizes in my throat.

“...Since the Endless revealed herself to us in the temple, since she took off her helmet and
showed us your aged face, since she revealed that it was in an attempt to keep her loved ones
alive that she made herself a god to us...I have wondered if I was there when the Catalysts were
slaughtered. I have wondered...” I choke, swallowing hard before continuing, “...In my
nightmares, I can see the day Cetus killed my mother. That happened right in front of me. That
memory is barely more real than the images my mind conjures up of the Catalysts being
slaughtered by the Vaanti. I can see Diego. ...I can see him on his knees, begging for his life. For
his friends' lives. I don't want to imagine things like this, but I cannot help it. My mind tortures
me, filling in every detail. Who he has already seen die. Who is still living, still begging, still
frightened, still fighting, still weeping.
“I can't bear to think of it, but I do. All the time. I see him die, Taylor. My mind shows me his
death, and I want to tear apart the one who held the spear with my bare hands. ...But then I
realize that it might have been me. There might have been a time when I heard his cries and his
pleas and was unmoved. There might have been a time when I looked into his eyes and felt
nothing. When I saw his fear and his anguish and never felt the desire to take him in my arms
and fight any who would harm him.” I look at her, my tears flowing freely now. “...How could I
condemn you for loving him more than I did then? For never wavering in that love, and doing
everything in your power to save him?”

Her mouth twists, her eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “...It wasn't you, Varyyn. You did not
come into being until after the Endless changed your people. I don't care if the Vaanti who
killed Diego was the only son of your parents, it wasn't you. You are my best friend's soulmate.”

“...And you are the woman who brought hope to my people. You brought my soulmate to my
side. And you will always have my friendship.”

“As you will have mine.” She smiles, wiping her eyes. “...I should probably find my own
soulmate. I expect he won't sleep until he knows I haven't vanished again.”

I offer her my arm as we descend the winding platforms. She still looks worn out from her
performance earlier, and I fear in her exhausted state that she will stagger and invite disaster.
After seeing her safely into Jake's arms, I make my way to my own beloved.

He appears to be asleep already, his arms resting on his belly, his head lolled to one side. But as
I climb carefully into the hammock beside him, he stirs, turning to nestle into me. I draw him to
my chest.

“It has been too long since I slept with you in my arms,” I murmur, kissing his hair.

“It's only been three nights.”

“That might as well be an eternity, my darling.”

He snorts, lifting his head to kiss me. We lie nose-to-nose beneath the canopy of leaves and
stars. He winds his arm around me and lets his fingertips trail gently up and down my back,
making me shiver. His breath is warm on my face. I let my hand slip under his shirt, gently
massaging along his narrow torso. I want to feel his body. I want to feel every inch of his flesh,
warm with lifeblood. I press my palm to his breastbone, feeling his heart thump against my
skin.

“You sure sleeping is all you want to do?” he chuckles teasingly. In spite of myself, I feel a hot
blush blooming in my cheeks.

“...Sleeping is never all I want to do when you are in my arms, my love. ...But I do not think our
present location is the proper place for anything else.”
“Maybe not,” he concedes, but I hear a note of mischief in his voice. He brings his hand up to
stroke my cheek, and lets his thumb trail over my lips. “But we don't have to stay here, do we.
We know all the secluded romantic spots in Elyys'tel.”

He shifts, kissing down my neck toward my chest. I can't help laughing. “An hour ago, you were
yawning!”

“Maybe so, but I've had a nice little nap. And I've been dreaming of you playing quuk'tanoi. It's
got me in the mood.”

“Well then,” I roll out of the hammock and offer him my hand. “The moon is beautiful tonight,
my darling. Let us not waste it.”

He accepts my hand, climbing out of the hammock. As soon as his feet touch the ground, I
sweep him into my arms, cradling him. He laughs, winding his arms around my neck.

“I think you're in the mood too, sweetheart.”

I bend to capture his mouth in a kiss. “Hold on tight,” I whisper against his mouth. “Don't let go
of me.”

He tightens his grip. “Never, Varyyn. Not as long as I live.” He lets his head drop onto my
shoulder. “I promise.”

Chapter 6: Operation Perseus

Summary:
On their final night on La Huerta, the Catalysts work out a plan to get Taylor home safely.
Chapter Text

Taylor
A prison chamber. Two rooms. One is an interrogation room, the other a cell with a cot and a
plain, functional toilet and sink of stainless steel. Between them, a heavy locked door and an
observation window of thick glass. I huddle in the corner of the cell, dressed in a dull gray
jumpsuit. My head is swimming. Rourke has taken my friends. He's taken them and hidden them
from me and no one will tell me if they're safe. Faceless Arachnid soldiers come in from time to
time to hold me down and draw my blood, and then they leave. I am fed, but I can't eat much.
When I eat, half of it comes back up again into the stinking stainless steel toilet.
The door to the interrogation room opens. I close my eyes, curling in on myself. I don't want to see
who it is. But then I hear a familiar voice.
“My god! Father, what have you done to her?!” Aleister cries. There is real distress in his voice, and
that startles me enough to make me look up. The last I saw of Aleister, he was betraying us,
turning us over to his father. Now he looks at me through the observation window and he looks
like he might cry. Rourke and Lila are with him.
“She is resistant. She doesn't understand yet what needs to be done, nor how essential a role she
plays.”
“So you've tortured her?!”
“I have done nothing of the sort!”
“One of your minions, then?”
“No one has tortured her, Aleister,” Rourke snaps, sounding irritated.
“Let me in!”
“Of course, my boy,” Rourke sighs, rolling his eyes. “It's why we're here.”
I hear the door unlock. Reflexively, I recoil, pulling myself more tightly against the wall. Aleister
hurries toward me, though he mercifully pauses a few feet away. He kneels slowly, holding his
hand out to me as if I am a stray kitten he is trying to coax out from under a bush. I probably look
like one, dusty and dirty as I am, with my hair tangled and matted.
“Taylor? It's all right. We're not here to hurt you.”
I stare at him through a dirty curtain of tangled blonde hair that falls over my face. I shouldn't
trust him. He's the reason I'm in this cell. But his voice is so gentle, and I am so desperate for a
kind, familiar face that I find myself drawing a little closer. I cough a little. My lips are dry and
cracking. They hurt when I move them to speak, and I can taste blood.
“...Water...” I croak. “Please...”
Aleister rushes away, returning a moment later with a canteen. He opens it and holds it out to me.
I snatch it from his hand and gulp the contents. Water fills my mouth and trickles out the sides as I
chug, but I don't care. When the canteen is empty, I let it fall from my hands, curling back into the
corner. It sloshes sickeningly in my belly, slightly swollen with it. I will myself not to throw it back
up, even as I feel my body spasm with retroperistalsis.
“Taylor...” he whispers. “I'm sorry. Please believe me. I'm so sorry.”
“Where are the others? Are they all right?”
“...I...don't know...”
I raise my eyes to meet his. “Where is Grace?”
His mouth twists with agony. “...Dead.”
The word lands on me like a physical blow. I recoil further. “...You're lying.”
“...Do you really imagine I would lie about that? It was a virus. Something native to this island. She
had to be placed in quaratine, I couldn't even...” His voice breaks. “...Father says you could undo
it...”
“...What?”
“The power we have discovered in you in unparalleled. Only the Endless itself is nearly as strong,”
Rourke says. “All we need is for you to allow us to unlock your power and you can turn back the
clock. Save Grace. Save anyone you wish. Save the world.”
“...I don't believe Grace would thank me for that.”
“Taylor, please,” Lila begs. “Just hear him out.”
I shake my head hard. “I can't, Lila! He can't be trusted!” I look desperately at Aleister. “He's
playing you, Aleister, just like he always is! Do you really think all he wants is to bring Grace
back?!”
“I think he can do it! That's all that matters!”
“At what cost, though?! If I give him whatever power is inside me, what will he do with it? Come to
think of it, what will it do to me to give it up?!”
That actually seems to give him pause. He looks back at Rourke. “...Father...?”
“You have my word, Taylor. You will come to no harm.”
I consider for a moment, only for a moment. Then, I shake my head. “No. Last time you gave your
word, we lost Craig. Now Grace is gone, too. I'm not losing anyone else on your word!”
Aleister recoils from me now, tears dripping from his anguished eyes. Lila suddenly looks fearful.
Rourke, however, regards me with pitying amusement.
“Oh, Taylor...do you still not realize that my word is all that is protecting you or your friends here?
One way or another, you are going to see reason.” He clasps his hands behind his back, striding to
the observation window. “But I grow impatient waiting. Perhaps it is time I raise the stakes. ...Lila.
Which of the Selected do you believe Taylor is closest to?”
I look up sharply, feeling my breath catch in my throat. My heart goes cold and drops like a stone
into my belly. Lila, noticing my distress, swallows hard. But she averts her eyes and answers,
“Diego. Or Jake. Diego is her best friend and Jake is her lover.”
“And which do you believe could persuade her faster?”
Lila keeps her eyes firmly on the wall in front of her. “Diego. He is more dependent on her, and
much less resilient than Jake. Much less in his element. Jake has a military history. He'll be much
more resistant to torture.”
The last word goes through me like a knife. I feel my gorge rising. “No...” I whimper. “Rourke,
please...”
Rourke ignores me. “Mmm. Interesting. Do you agree, Aleister?”
I look desperately at Aleister, but he will not meet my eyes now, either. “...Not necessarily. It is true
that Jake has been conditioned to resist torture more. But Diego is in love with a Hostile. I believe
that will strengthen his resistance.”
“Aleister!” I cry. “What the hell are you doing, you bastard?!”
“Very interesting,” Rourke murmurs, smirking. “I expect either would work. But...I have felt
Commander Lundgren growing restless of late. Perhaps I will throw him a bone. Lila, call him in.
Tell him to bring Jake McKenzie with him. He should be prepared.”
“No!” I try to go for Lila, but in my weakened state, Rourke is easily faster. His arm whips around
and slams into my belly, knocking the wind out of me and sending me sprawling backward. This
time, I can't hold back the sickness, and about half the water I gulped down comes back up again
in a burning acid wave. I lay moaning, struggling to catch my breath, struggling to turn away
from the stinking puddle beside my head.
“The longer you resist,” Rourke says flatly, “The more they will suffer.”
I slowly drag myself upright, gasping. As I raise my head, I see the door to the interrogation room
open on the other side of the window. Lundgren enters with two Arachnid soldiers who drag Jake
between them, shackled hand and foot.
“Jake!” My voice comes out strangled and distorted. His head snaps up and his eyes widen. He
starts to struggle against the soldiers who hold him fast.
“Taylor!” He turns his furious gaze on Rourke. “What have you done to her, Phony Stark?! I swear
to god if you've harmed one hair on her head--”
Lundgren cuts him off with a violent backhand. “Shut up, Wolf. She ain't the one you ought to be
worried about.”
“You ought to be more worried about yoursel—oof!” A punch to the gut makes him crumple to his
knees. The Arachnid soldiers hold him down as Lundgren kneels in front of him, drawing a
switchblade. He cuts open Jake's shirt, exposing his chest. Then he takes the cigar from his mouth
and presses the smoldering end to the bare skin under Jake's collarbone. He goes rigid with the
pain, screaming, and I scream with him. Rourke finally pulls the cigar back and Jake slumps,
trembling. From his pocket, Rourke fishes a small, metallic device. Jake gasps in agony as
Lundgren presses the device against the blistering burn. It sticks.
“Let 'im go,” Lundgren orders the two soldiers. Jake scrambles to his feet and stumbles to the
window, pressing his palm against mine through the glass.
“Are you okay, Princess? Did they hurt you?”
I shake my head frantically. “Jake, get out of here. You have to get out. You and all the others have
to get out now!”
“I ain't leaving you. Pretty sure the others will say the same.”
“Jake, please! I think they're going to kill you! Please, just run!”
“If you seriously think I'm gonn—augh!” He cuts himself off with a scream, doubling over and
crumpling into a heap.
“Jake!”
“Don't kill him just yet, Commander,” Rourke says silkily when the screaming stops for a moment.
“I want to see if our most honored guest can be made to understand her power without further
loss of life.”
“Princess, whatever he's asking for, don't give hi--” Another protracted scream that I answer with
my own. There's a device in Lundgren's hand. It must be connected to the one on Jake's chest.
They're torturing him with it. He abruptly goes limp, gasping and trembling.
“Jake! Jake, stay with me! Please, stay with me!”
“I do not wish to kill him, Taylor. I do not wish to kill him, or your friend Diego, or any of them. But
I will. If that is what it takes to make you understand.”
Jake's back rends, his muscles going rigid with agony. He's trying not to scream now, but he isn't
succeeding. I throw myself against the glass, beating the window with my fists. He goes limp
again, whimpering. I look desperately at Aleister, my vision blurred with tears.
“Aleister, please...he's your friend...how can you watch this?!”
“You could save him. You could save Grace. You could save Craig. You could save everything.”
Lundgren's hand moves again. More screaming that goes through me like a lance. I double over,
my body spasming with sobs. I can't tell how long it goes on. How many times the pattern repeats.
The crescendo of screaming that fades into whimpers and moans. And then the voices floating on
top of Jake's pained weeping. Rourke. Aleister. Lila. Asking. Begging. Demanding that I give him
my power. I could stop this. I could save Jake. Grace and Craig are dead, but I could save them, too.
It breaks me to see him suffering. Breaks through my resistance, my misgivings.
“...Please...please, I'll do anything. Just stop hurting him...”
“Good. Good girl,” Rourke purrs. “You'll see. It will all work out for the best. Commander, kill him.”
“No!” I scream. Suddenly, Aleister and Lila are screaming with me.
“Father, you can't!”
“Mr. Rourke, you said--”
“I can't risk her changing her mind. If she ever does, the Dog will be next.”
“Jake!” I press myself desperately against the window, smacking my palms against the glass.
“Jake!”
Lundgren draws a pistol and aims it at the man crumpled on the floor. Jake's eyelids flutter, and
he raises his gaze to mine. His expression twists with agony.
“...Don't I even get a few last words?”
Lundgren shrugs. “Why the hell not. Make it quick.”
Jake's eyes hold mine. “...I love you, Taylor. You're gonna make it. You're stronger than anyone I've
ever known. ...Look away now, okay? You don't wanna see this.”
“No...Jake, don't leave me...I need you...”
He draws in a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. “...Malfoy, if you still care about her at all, you
won't let her watch this part.”
Lundgren raises his pistol again. Aleister breaks away from his father's side to pull me away from
the window and turn me toward him. He clasps me hard in his arms, holding my head firmly
against his shoulder. I should struggle. I want to struggle. I want to beat on him and tear at him.
But as the gunshot splits the air apart, I can only cling back, sobbing brokenly in the arms of the
one who brought me to this moment...

… I wake with a gasp and find myself sweating and shaking in a hammock under Elyys'tel's
sheltering branches, entwined in Jake's arms. He's snoring just a little, his head nestled against
my shoulder. I shake him gently.

“Jake? Jake, wake up...”

“Huh...? Whasshamup...?” He grunts, clearing his throat. His eyes focus on my face. “Are you
okay?”

“I had a bad dream...”

“Yeah?” he asks around a yawn. “What was it about?”

“...A timeline when I failed.”

That seems to bring him around to full consciousness. His arms tighten around me. “...You
wanna tell me what happened?”

“...I think...Rourke figured out that he needed me to finish Project Janus. I don't think he actually
connected me to the Endless. I'm not sure if he had the Island's Heart...I couldn't really
remember. ...But he tried to force me to help him. ...By torturing you in front of me. Or rather,
letting Lundgren do it.”

I feel him shudder. “Not gonna lie. That sounds damned awful. ...Lundgren always had a talent
for inflicting pain.”

“...I gave in to stop him from hurting you. ...Rourke let him kill you anyway. So I wouldn't change
my mind about turning back time. Said if I ever did, Diego would be next. And Grace and Craig
were already dead...”

He brings a hand up to stroke my cheek. “But they're not, though. We're all alive because of
you.”

“I know. ...But...I'm scared.”

“Something in particular scaring you?”

I close my eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. “...I failed more than two-thousand times. The
visions in the idols...the ones the Endless gave me...those were only a fraction. I'm afraid of
those memories that haven't surfaced yet. ...I'm scared I'm going to keep seeing you die in my
nightmares. You and Diego and Quinn and Grace and Sean and Craig and...everyone...”

“Well, I'll tell you what, Princess. Every time you have a nightmare, I'm gonna be there when
you wake up to tell you it's okay. No matter how many times you dream about me dying, I'm
still gonna be there when you wake up.”

“...Promise?”

“You know I do.”

I cuddle up in his arms, my head on his chest. In his embrace, my trembling subsides and my
heartbeat slows. “I love you so much, Jake.”

“I love you, Taylor.”

“...I think, though...when we get back, we should make it clear that our marriage wasn't legally
binding.”

“Why's that? You looking for an easy out?”

The teasing note in his voice makes me think he knows the real answer, but I tell him anyway.
“If we tell people we were handfasted in local ceremony, they'll start asking questions about
who the locals are. Better they think it was something our friends oversaw when we were
imprisoned and convinced we were about to die. ...Besides...I think I'm going to need time
to...ease my aunt and uncle into the idea of you. They'll be less resistant if I introduce you as my
boyfriend than as my husband. I don't think they'll believe that I could have met you and fallen
in love with you in the space of six months.”

“I would say I don't give a crap what they think, but I'm guessing it's not gonna be easy to shake
'em for awhile.”

“I wouldn't imagine so, no.” I lift my head to look him in the eye. “Are you gonna be okay
coming with me to California? I mean, I assumed, but...”

“Don't worry about me. I've been working in a dive bar in Louisiana. They can replace me two
seconds after I call 'em and say I ain't coming back.” I open my mouth to respond, but he puts a
finger to my lips. “No, don't try arguing. I don't care where we end up, long as we're together.
You know that.”

I nod, lightly biting his fingertip before letting my head drop onto his chest again. “Yeah. I do.”

“...On the other hand,” he says with a grin in his voice, “I should take care to be on my best
behavior, since this is officially gonna be...'meet the family'...”
I chuckle, but I shake my head. “You already know my real family. ...In a way, I'm going to be
meeting these people for the first time, too. I have enough memories to know who they are, but
I also know that they probably never existed until I was retconned into the world. Or at the
very least, I was never a part of their lives...And I should try to stop thinking about this because
it just makes me dizzy.”

“Tell you what. Why don't you tell me what you remember about them? Moments from your
childhood. Your teenage years. Might make them more real to you.”

I shudder. “...Most of what I remember of my teenage years isn't very pleasant. Especially from
Uncle Rob.”

He brings up a hand to stroke my hair. “Yeah?”

I nod. “...I was Aunt Molly's sister's kid. She was the one who really pushed him to agree to
adopt me because she didn't want to give up her dead sister's kid to the state. She didn't want
kids any more than he did, but she couldn't let go of the last piece of her sister so easily. ...He
tried to hide it, but I know he resented me for pushing into his life. Much more than she ever
did. It wasn't so bad when I was a kid, but when I turned into a sullen teenager, things got
worse.”

“I can imagine you weren't the kind of teenager who just locked herself in her room as soon as
she got home from school and spent her free time listening to emo music.”

“Not at all. Diego was the so-called 'good kid' who hid his problems and never made trouble. Or
he wouldn't have ever made trouble if it weren't for me. With Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob gone
on business so much of the time, we ended up with the whole place to ourselves a lot. ...The
other night, he and I were talking about the time during the summer I convinced him to come
over and raid my uncle's liquor cabinet with me.”

“Dare I ask how old you were?”

I feel a smile playing around my mouth. “Fifteen.”

He whistles. “Wow. You were the wild one, weren't you.”

“...I guess I made Diego do all the things he was too afraid to do alone.” I feel my smile slipping.
“...I think about that night, and I kinda wonder if he wouldn't have been better off without me...”

I feel Jake's arm tighten over my shoulder. “What happened that night that makes you say
that?”

“We got completely shitfaced on Kahlua. When the hangovers hit the next morning, we huddled
under the blankets in my room for two days, convinced we were going to die. Then a few days
after that, Uncle Rob and Aunt Molly came home. And when Uncle Rob realized the Kahlua was
missing a few days later...I...” I close my eyes, curling into him. “...Well, let's just say I wore
pretty heavy concealer for a week or two.”

I feel him tense in my arms. His breath quivers slightly as he exhales. “...Aw, shit...”

“...That...probably makes it sound worse than it was...”

“He laid hands on you, that's bad enough,” he growls. “I'm guessing he and I ain't gonna get
along.”

“He had never done it before. Never did again.”

“He never will again,” he says firmly. “...But...except for a nasty hangover, it doesn't sound like
Diego suffered much for knowing you that night.”

“...No. I took the whole blame for the missing Kahlua. I ran to Diego that night and told him the
bruise was because I swiped a twenty from Uncle Rob's wallet. ...I'd done it before, so he
believed me.” I sigh. “...And...that night we got drunk was the night he came out to me. ...I
suppose when I didn't exist, he didn't have anyone he could come out to...”

“Wanna know what I think?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you're the friend he always wished he had because that's the kind of friend he always
needed. He made it as far as he did in another timeline because he's strong. But now, he didn't
always have to be strong. He had someone there to protect him when he was bullied, someone
he could be honest with. And when he did have to be strong, he was being strong for you.
Because your bastard of an uncle beat up on you, or...someone broke your heart. ...Don't you
think a hideous hangover at fifteen was worth the chance to come out to someone who would
tell him there was nothing wrong with him?”

“...Yeah. Probably. ...It was everyone's need plus Vaanu's energy that first created me. I was
born to be what all of you needed me to be.”

“And now all of us are gonna be what you need us to be. Shit, Princess, do you even have any
idea what you mean to us? Not just me and Diego, but every one of us? Raj and Zahra and
Aleister and all of them?”

“...If they love me half as much as I love all of them...” I swallow hard. I think of my dream, of
Aleister turning me away so that I wouldn't see Jake die, that small act of genuine love and
kindness in spite of his betrayal.

“They love you just as much as you love them, if not more. We're gonna take care of you,
Princess. We're your family, and we're all gonna stand by you. Don't you doubt it.”
Diego

After blissfully making love, I fall asleep under the moonlight in Varyyn's arms, the warm
tropical breeze caressing my bare, sweat-slick skin. In the arms of my one true love, knowing
my best friend is safe with her husband within easy reach, I feel more contented than I think I
have ever felt in my life.

The next day, I watch Allie, Sean, and Jake team up against Seraxa, Varyyn, and Taari in
quuk'tanoi, and I remember the day the twelve of us first arrived on La Huerta, that first night
at The Celestial. La Huerta felt like a paradise then. Today, it feels like one again.

Allie's team presents a strong challenge. Rusty though they may be, the three of them really are
a dream team when it comes to anything competitive like this. They manage to score two
points before the Vaanti team scores one. But then the tides start to turn. The Vaanti
overpower them, and Taari himself scores the winning goal.

Nightfall finds us proudly watching as Seraxa presents her foster son and heir with his owl
mask in an elegant ceremony. As the crowd cheers the Vaanti's newest, youngest warrior, Taari
beams at them from behind the mask. I look at Varyyn beside me and notice his eyes are
shining.

“You okay?”

“...He is still so young. It is difficult to imagine him going into battle.”

I lace my fingers with his. “There's not much to battle these days on La Huerta.” I lay my head
on his shoulder and feel him squeeze my hand.

“Long may peace reign.”

“Amen.”

“...We have peace because of Taylor.” Varyyn raises his eyes skyward. “...My mind is still
connected to hers.”

“It is?”

“Yes. She believes there is nothing significant in it. That it simply means we are who we are,
each of us with a connection to Vaanu, and that our joining minds on the beach has not been
undone.”
“Well...that all makes sense.”

He sighs, looking down again. “...She is troubled. Frightened. Confused.”

“Unfortunately, I'm not surprised,” I murmur. “I may not be mind-melded with her, but I know
her. Besides, anyone would be troubled and confused in her situation.”

“You are right, of course.”

But his words stay with me. I find myself watching Allie for the rest of the night. When I finally
sleep, my dreams are a bizzare collection of moments that all kind of lead back to the same
conclusion: Allie needs my support. She's broken and bewildered, and she needs familiar faces
beside her.

The following day is our last full day on La Huerta before we return to our lives. As we're
finishing breakfast, I clear my throat.

“Hey, guys, I think we should talk about the logistics of getting everyone home now that we've
got Allie back.”

“What do you mean?” Craig asks.

“Well, normally Jake flies us all back to London so Varyyn doesn't have to worry about security
or anything like that. And I know you guys all fly home from there.”

“...Is that not going to work this time?”

“No,” Jake murmurs. “...Taylor may have an ID and passport somewhere out there, but we ain't
gonna find it in time to get her a commercial flight back to the states from London. If we land in
London first, I'm gonna have to fly her home myself. Which I could do...”

“The thing is...” I take a deep breath, covering Varyyn's hand with mine. “Varyyn, you know I
love you and I never want to be without you. But I can't leave Allie right now. I know more
about the world she's going to be transitioning back to than anyone else. Maybe even more
than you yourself, Allie.”

She shrugs. “Probably. ...I wasn't going to say it, but I'm terrified of facing it without you.”

“I would not dream of asking you to separate right now,” Varyyn assures me. “I can survive
without you for awhile.”

“The thing is...I don't know how long awhile is going to be. ...I'm kinda hoping we can find
someplace safe enough that you can stay with me.”

“Of course if that is a possiblity, I would prefer it.”

Allie frowns thoughtfully. “I...might have an idea on that. Diego, do you know if my aunt and
uncle still have the beach house?”

“As far as I know,” I reply, sighing a little. It's actually a little funny how quickly I've grown to
consider this new timeline the real one, enough that I can roll my eyes at some of her family's
more extravagent status symbols. “They didn't stop being obscenely wealthy when you
disappeared.”

“Wait, your folks have a beach house?!” Raj exclaims. “In California?!”

Allie winces a little. “In Laguna Beach. It's a second home, if you can believe that.”

Michelle raises an eyebrow. “What exactly do they do?”

“Uncle Rob's a lawyer, Aunt Molly's a plastic surgeon. And they live in the Greater L.A. area, so
guess who most of their clients are. They probably could have had a ten million dollar home in
Beverly Hills, but they chose a more 'modest' million-dollar estate in Alessandro Heights so
they could keep the beach house for entertaining. ...I've only seen it a few times. Most of their
parties weren't exactly 'kid' parties, so I was left with Diego's family most of the time they were
hosting until my fingers stopped being so sticky. But they did let us use it for both our
eighteenth birthdays and our high school graduation parties.”

“...They were going to let us use it to celebrate our college graduation,” I murmur.

“Ohh, man, that would've been freaking sweet!” Craig sighs. “We would've been invited, right?”

Allie laughs. “Duh, Craig! Anyway, here's what I'm thinking now. I may be able to convince them
that Jake and I need a place to ourselves. I'm guessing I can convince them to let us take over
either the beach house or the place in Riverside. Then you and Varyyn can stay with us and we
can all look after each other.” She frowns a little. “...Thing is, though, it might take awhile before
they're ready to let me out of their sight. ...Especially given that I'm not sure how they'll react to
Jake.”

“Hey, I can always find a place to rent,” I say quickly. “In case you've forgotten, I am a best-
selling author now. I'm not really hurting for money.”

“I know. But if I can manage it...”

“Whether Varyyn and Diego end up at the beach house or an apartment, there's still gonna be
some downtime before things get settled,” Jake points out.

“I can wait in London until then,” Varyyn says. “It is all right, really.”

“You may not have to, though. I got a thought. There's a little risk involved, but I think it may be
work out.” He takes Allie's hand, squeezing it. “You've been a missing person for five years,
Princess. Both Lundgren's trial and Rourke's were national news. As was the disappearance of
one of his Selected. No matter how quiet we try to sneak you back in, we're gonna have to deal
with the police at some point. ...My sister came across your case file and was willing to keep it
quiet. ...I say we ask her help. She may be able to hide Varyyn until we can get him and Diego
someplace safe.”

A hush settles over the table. I see Allie's chest start to rise and fall a little faster. “Jake...I...don't
take this the wrong way, but...can we trust her? I mean, I'm sure she's a good sister and a good
cop, but...with the Vaanti? With my origins?”

“I think we can. We can bring Mike in to back us up, too. Rebecca's a responsible cop, but she
ain't so by-the-book that she won't bend the rules if there's a good reason to bend 'em. And I
can't think of any way harrassing the Vaanti is gonna relate to your case once she knows the
facts.”

“But will she believe them?”

“With our very own Papa Smurf in front of her as evidence? I know my sister, Taylor. She's a
healthy skeptic, but she's also got an open mind. She's just the right mix of wary and receptive.
Besides,” he raises her hand to his mouth and kisses it. “You know I wouldn't suggest it if I
thought for a second it would put you or the Vaanti in any real danger. Don't you?”

She nods, slowly but without hesitation. Jake looks at me. “What about you, Short Stuff? You've
had the chance to get to know Rebecca a little. You in?”

I hesitate just a little. “It isn't that I don't trust her...but I am inclined to be cautious to the point
of overprotectiveness with Varyyn. It's one thing to put him on the street in human clothes and
let people think he's going to a costume convention, but it's another to bring in someone
outside our family and say, 'Hey, he's part of a race of super-evolved humans who got that way
when their ancestors drank the sap from an alien tree'.”

“Rebecca is family,” Jake says firmly.

“You know what I meant. ...Thing is, Jake, I trust you. So...if you can honestly tell me you'd be
comfortable telling Rebecca that her sister-in-law is actually the human daughter of a crystal
alien that got trapped on earth and that she's been retconned into existence after giving herself
up to save the world from destruction...then I'm in.”

“I believe she can be trusted with everything,” Jake answers without hesitation. “She's the only
person outside of the La Huerta sphere that I wouldtrust.”

His confidence doesn't entirely erase my doubts, but I don't think anything ever could. I trust
his love for Allie enough to know that if he had the slightest doubt, he wouldn't be suggesting
this. My biggest fear is that he'll discover his trust is misplaced, but I can't deny that he knows
his sister better than I do.
“...All right. So, we'll see if Varyyn can stay with your sister until either I find an apartment or
Allie gets run of the beach house, or the house in Riverside.”

“Oh, please say you'll angle for the beach house,” Raj says with a grin. “Do you realize how
many awesome parties we can have there? Hell, we could throw a New Years' Eve party that
would top Elysian Lodge! Fireworks and everything!”

Allie snorts. “Don't get ahead of yourself, Raj. I have to get the beach house first.”

“If the plan is for Varyyn to stay in Los Angeles,” Aleister remarks, “perhaps we should alter our
flight plan to land there instead. Rourke International can certainly reimburse everyone the
cost of altering your tickets when we arrive.”

“I just have one problem with that plan,” Michelle says. “I have no doubt that once Taylor is
officially a found person, the police and her family will have doctors all over her, testing her
DNA and making sure she's healthy. If being a time anomaly has done anything strange with
her body, wouldn't it be safer if I found out first? I had been thinking that I could sneak her into
my hospital under an assumed name to have them run blood tests and scans.”

“...Wouldn't that leave a paper trail?” Jake asks uncertainly.

“I was hoping Zahra could help with some of that.”

“Tell me what you need, I'll see what I can do.”

Michelle nods. “There are also a few equipment techs I can probably bribe with Condors tickets
to give the results to me directly and not put them in the system. Not to mention interns who
will need to be bribed to let me handle the procedures...” She looks hopefully at Sean, who
grins.

“In the name of sneaking Taylor back into the world, I'll pull every string I can get my hands
on.”

“So, should we plan on landing in Northbridge now?”

“You'll have your choice of places to crash,” Quinn says cheerfully. “Taylor and Jake can stay
with me and Michelle, and Varyyn and Diego can stay with Craig and Zahra.”

“Wait, you and Michelle are living together?” Allie repeats. “What about Sean?”

“I mostly stay with them. But my mom's place has an extra room for me, and I'm kinda paying
her rent. Perks of a pro athlete's salary.”

“I see the sense in your plan, Maybelline,” Jake concedes. “Can Rourke International spare the
private plane for a second flight from Northbridge to L.A.?”
“Of course.”

“Or! Better idea!” Raj exclaims. “I rent us a van, and we make a Catalyst Road Trip of it!”

“As...enjoyable as that sounds,” Aleister says, trying and failing to hold back a smile, “Grace has
a show coming up in London that she has to prepare for. Besides, the longer we take getting
Taylor to Los Angeles, the more likely it is she or Varyyn will be seen by someone we don't
want to see them.”

“Aww, that's a good point. Why did you have to make a good point?”

“My apologies.”

“Are you still willing to let some of us come with you, Taylor?”

“Well...everything will be have to be managed carefully, especially when it comes to introducing

everyone to my family. But I am happy to have any of you around that want to be there and can
spare the time.”

“I can come along,” Estela remarks. “Tio won't mind if I take an extra week or two to get back.
In fact, he'll probably be thrilled by the idea of me spending some time in Los Angeles.”

“I'll go, too,” Quinn declares.

“You know I'm in!” Raj says cheerfully.

“I can probably swing a few extra days off,” Craig adds. “How about you, Z?”

Zahra grins, jerking her head at Aleister. “Ask my boss.”

“Well, I suppose I can spare you,” Aleister mock-sighs.

“I wish I could come,” Grace sighs. “But like Aleister says, I have to prepare for a show.”

“...Okay. So, I guess we have a plan now.” Quite suddenly, I find myself feeling lighter. I didn't
even realize how nervous this was making me until now.

“I feel like this brilliant plan needs a name,” Craig remarks. “A cool code name like
Operation...something...”

“Operation Andromeda?” Allie suggests wryly.

“I believe Operation Perseus might be more appropriate,” Aleister replies thoughtfully.

“What's a Perseus?” Craig asks.

“A character in Greek Mythology. A son of Zeus, and the eventual consort of Princess
Andromeda. It was Perseus who saved Andromeda from being sacrificed to the sea monster
Cetus.”

“Wait, sacrificed to Cetus?”

Aleister sighs, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Craig. Cetus was sent by the god of the sea to punish
Andromeda's mother for boasting that her daughter was more beautiful than the sea nymphs.
When Cetus continued to terrorize the kingdom, Andromeda's father decided the only way to
stop it was to sacrifice Andromeda. So he chained her naked to a rock and left her to die.”

“Dude!”

“But, Perseus eventually rescued her, using the severed head of Medusa to defeat Cetus.”

“That's...kinda twisted, all things considered,” Zahra remarks. “Especially Rourke's obsession
with mythology.”

“...Rourke didn't name Cetus,” Allie points out. “He didn't name me Andromeda, either. That
was the Endless. ...I've been trying to figure that one out for a long time.”

“Well, no need to figure it out anymore,” Jake declares, winding an arm around her shoulder
and pulling her close. “Cetus is dead, my Princess Andromeda.”

“So, Jake is Perseus now?”

“I think you're all collectively Perseus,” Allie declares firmly. “If my Cetus was actually Vaanu,
then all of you are Perseus, because all of you are helping me get my life back.”

“Frankly, I think if we start searching for mythological parallels to everything that happened on
La Huerta,” Estela remarks, “we are all going to end up with massive headaches.”

“Agreed,” Quinn says cheerfully. “We have one more day on La Huerta before Operation
Perseus or whatever it is gets underway. Let's enjoy ourselves!”

Chapter 7: Something's Rotten in Northbridge

Summary:
Phase One of Operation Perseus gets underway! Meanwhile, Aleister, Estela, and Zahra call on
an old friend to help them investigate Prescott Industries in the face of a strange new
development.
Chapter Text

Craig

Zahra spends most of the flight to Northbridge on her laptop, working on getting Taylor the
paperwork she needs to get in and out of the hospital undetected. Or, undetected as herself
anyway. Michelle hovers over Zahra's shoulder, making sure everything's in order. Well, that's
what she thinks she's doing, but I can tell that it's starting to bug Zahra.

“Hey, Meech, why don't you sit down and leave her alone for awhile. You can check it all over
when she's done.”

“Craig, if she misses something--”

“You'll find it when she's done. She's not gonna send it or print it or whatever without you
greenlighting it.”

Michelle sighs and flops down in her seat. After a moment, she stands up in place and folds her
arms on the back of the seat in front of her. She looks down at Taylor, who is curled up across
the two seats in front of her, dozing. Sean stands up beside Michelle, slipping his arm around
her waist.

“You okay, babe?”

“Yeah...yeah, I'm okay. Just...irrationally nervous that they're going to discover that she doesn't
have a liver or something...”

“Wouldn't that have caused her to die of alcohol poisoning after one cocktail?”

“Well, no...but I guess the fact that she isn't either dead or still drunk means something
metabolized those cocktails. No jaundice, either...”

“And you said she has a pulse, and she appears to be breathing.”

“Yeah, I know. But I'm going to be a little nervous until everything checks out okay.”

I wander over to kneel next to the seats where Taylor's sleeping. “You didn't find anything
funny when you checked her out before, right? No flashing lights inside her ears?” I pretend to
look inside the ear that's turned toward us. Suddenly, Taylor's eyes fly open, and she sits up
with a gasp. I just barely manage to avoid getting hit in the face with her head. I jump back in
surprise, and so do Sean and Michelle.

“Woah, hey!” Sean puts a hand on her shoulder. “You okay there?”

She looks around at the three of us suspiciously, then looks past us at the rest of the group,
scattered throughout the cabin of Rourke International's private jet.
“...What day is it, and where are we going?”

“It's the eighth of June, 2023. We're flying to Northbridge from La Huerta.”

She sighs, settling back into her seat. “Thank god. I was having one of those dream-within-a-
dreams, and for a moment I thought I trapped in the time loop again.”

I laugh. “Nope. No funny lightning.”

She gives me a half-smile and stands up. “I think I'm gonna go keep the pilot company.”

“Have fun.”

“But not too much fun,” Zahra adds as Taylor walks past her up toward the cockpit. “If I hear
sex noises up there, I'm jumping out of the plane!”

***

We land at a small Northbridge airport about an hour later, where Aleister has arranged to
have a limo waiting for us. We go straight to the car, shielding Varyyn from any prying eyes.

“Won't the driver ask questions?” Taylor asks.

“Not likely. He'll already be in the car waiting for us. We can keep Varyyn mostly under his
threshold of perception while we climb in. And with the tinted windows, we won't draw much
attention from the outside world, either.”

“But what about when we get out?”

“Allie, for the most part, Varyyn's presence doesn't raise any eyebrows, no matter where we
are. Most people assume he's wearing a costume, and they're usually too busy with their own
lives to ask any more questions.”

“The driver is not going to be particularly concerned who he is driving about as long as he is
paid what he was promised. And if he goes home and tells his spouse he drove a blue man to an
apartment in Northbridge, what of it? She'll probably assume he's talking about a member of
the performance troupe.”

Taylor has to laugh at that. “Fair enough.”

“Still pays to be careful, though,” Diego concedes. “Which is why we only ever fly Rourke
International.”

“Plus, you get to ride in a sweet limo,” I point out. “Always take an excuse to ride in a sweet
limo.”
We all pile in and the driver takes us to Michelle and Quinn's apartment. Reggie needs a diaper
change by the time we arrive, so Aleister immediately scoots into Michelle's bedroom to take
care of that.

“Taylor and Jake, you guys can have my room while you're here. ...Which happens to be the
room Aleister just took the baby into, but never mind. I'll make sure it airs out. And Sean and I
can crash at his mom's place for a few nights. Zahra, do you think you can have the paperwork
ready for me to look over tonight?”

“Soon as I can get to the office, I'm your girl.”

As soon as Reggie's diaper is changed, Aleister takes Michelle and Zahra and the three of them
head out again to Rourke International's Northbridge office. A few hours later, they come back
with a lumpy manilla envelope.

“Okay, here's the scoop,” Zahra says, handing the envelope to Taylor. “You're now Taylor
Murphy, a new hire in the research department at Rourke International. Your ID is in here, as
are a list of tests and scans that the company requires you to have before you begin your work.
Don't worry. The bill will be covered. There's a note on where to send it because you haven't
been set up on the company insurance policy yet.”

“She wanted to give them a fake address,” Michelle says, scowling. “I had to convince her not to
cheat a hardworking hospital out of the money it takes to keep it going.”

“...Taylor Murphy?” Taylor repeats, smirking. Hearing his name, Murphy tips his head curiously.

“Mrr?”

Taylor takes out the papers, looking them over. “You really think they'll buy that Rourke
International wants me to get a full-body MRI?”

“Rourke is famously insane. I think they'll buy that his children inherited some of his paranoia.
In any case, if that's what you require for your job, they're not going to refuse you. It's just an
MRI. Anyway, I should sleep. I have to be up pretty early for my shift. Quinn and Zahra are
going to escort you to the hospital, since Quinn knows where it is, and we might need Zahra on
hand for...well.”

“Hacking. Just say it.”

“I can drop you guys off on my way to work if you want,” I suggest. “Save you cab fare.”

“What about getting home?” Diego asks.

“She might well be there long enough that Craig would be able to pick her up,” Quinn replies.
“Believe me, I know how long these tests can take.”
“Oh, great,” Taylor sighs. Jake puts an arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “I'll be with
you the whole time, Princess. I won't leave your side for a second if you don't want me to.”

“Ditto,” Diego adds.

“I'd be grateful. I'll be honest, I'm not actually...good...at doctors...”

Everyone except Diego looks at her in surprise. “Seriously?” I ask. “Miss Badass Crystal Alien
Savior of the World is scared of needles?”

“Jesus, Craig, you don't have to laugh at her!” Zahra scolds.

“I'm not laughing!” I protest. “I hate 'em, too!”

“It's not really the needles,” Taylor explains. “I mean, needles are creepy and they suck, but...it's
the whole experience that I've never been good at.”

“You seemed mostly okay when I examined you a week ago,” Michelle says.

“Because you are you,” Taylor replies. “And I still flinched. ...Look, I haven't actually had a
meltdown in a doctor's office since I was ten. I can handle it. I'd just...rather not have to handle
it alone. Especially if it's someone other than Michelle doing the poking and prodding.”

“You won't have to,” Quinn says. “Promise. Someone will be with you every second.”

“That's for the best, anyway,” Michelle agrees. “At least on Catalyst should be with you at all
times until the conclusion of Operation Perseus.”

“...Are we seriously calling it that?”

“I'm afraid we're stuck with it now. You want to blame someone, blame Aleister.”

Aleister sighs, bouncing Reggie in his arms. “I regret ever suggesting the name.”

***

We get to the hospital clinic way too early for me. Especially because Zahra drank all the coffee
last night while the rest of us were sleeping.

“Relax, loser boy. There's a cafeteria at the hospital.”

“Yeah, full of hospital coffee,” I mutter.

“I wish I could tell you it's not so bad,” Quinn sighs, “but I would be lying. Whenever I was in the
hospital as I kid, I remember the one thing my parents agreed on was that the coffee was
disgusting.”

“See, Z?”

Zahra rolls her eyes. “Fine. You want me to buy you a Starbucks?”

“No, it's fine, just pay for my cup of disgusting hospital coffee. You can buy the good stuff on the
way home.”

I park the car in the parking garage, and everyone piles out of the car. Me, Zahra, Quinn, Jake,
Diego, and Taylor.

“Allie, you think anyone's gonna be curious about the size of your entourage?”

“Why should they be? Craig's just here for coffee, Zahra's going to be...wherever Michelle needs
her...so it's just Jake, who is my husband, and you and Quinn can be my brother and sister.”

Zahra snorts. “Right, because the Mexican kid and the tiny blonde can pass so well for siblings.”

“Okay, A.) at twenty-seven, I think you can stop calling Diego a kid. And B.) we can be foster
siblings, or adopted. Those do exist.”

“Okay, so what about the problem of Quinn?” Jake asks, smirking. “I may not have mentioned it,
but I know you two have a little history involving things you don't do with your sister.”

Taylor pokes him. “You spend a lot of time thinking of my salacious escapades with Quinn?”

“Oh, hush.”

Quinn snorts, hiding a smile behind her hand. We step in through the automatic doors. Quinn
directs me and Zahra to the cafeteria, then joins the others to check Taylor in. We run into
Michelle on the way.

“Oh, good. You're here. Is she in?”

“Getting checked in now,” Zahra answers. “We're getting coffee.”

“Great. Meet me when you're done. I gotta run.”

I watch her rush off. “...Hey, Meech...” I mumble. “I was here, too.”

Zahra laughs. “Calm down. She's an intern. In this place, she basically exists to be everyone's
bitch. Let's get you caffeinated.”
She buys me a coffee. Looking at my phone, I see that I can spare a few minutes to sit down and
drink it, and it's always nice when I can get a couple minutes with Z, especially on a day like
today when we've got other things on our minds. We sit down at a table by the window, and I
start pouring sugar into my coffee.

“So,” I say. “We made it off the island and Taylor's still here. I think that's a pretty good sign,
don't you?”

“I admit I'm feeling a little more confident. It's pretty amazing what having an actual plan can
do for your mood.”

I grin and reach across the table to take her hand while I take a sip of coffee. It's a little too hot,
and four sugar packets doesn't do much to improve the flavor. But at least it's not decaf. That's
when I happen to look over Zahra's shoulder at the TV screen mounted on the wall in the
corner. A news program flickers over the screen. Closed captions scroll across the bottom,
white letters on black bars over an image of a man with gleaming metal skin speaking to a
newscaster on the street. He smiles charmingly into the camera.

“What's up, Northbridge! I'm Talos, the Man of Bronze, but I also answer to 'my hero'. Your choice.
You can sleep tight from now on, 'cause I'm officially on the job. No matter where, no matter
when, I'll keep you safe. That's a promise.”

“Woah! Z, are you seeing this?”

Zahra has already turned around to frown at the screen. “...Yeah...what the hell?”

“...Is...that some movie I've never heard of?”

“I...don't think so.” The image cuts back to the news studio.

“In other news, repairs to Prescott Industries continue on schedule after the recent robbery and
the failure of Prescott's so-called Prism Gate. Silas Prescott has refused to comment on whether
the Prism Gate project will resume, but rumors are circulating regarding his plans to redevelop
the Bayside Neighborhood...”

The news segment continues far too long to be part of a movie. Zahra turns back to me,
frowning.

“Do you think it had anything to do with...?”

“I dunno. ...The Island's Heart gave Quinn some pretty crazy powers.”

“Yeah, but it never turned her into a literal frickin' bronze god.” Zahra drums her fingers
nervously on the table. “I'm gonna text everyone. It might be unrelated to anything, but we
can't afford to ignore it. At the very least, Aleister and Estela can't ignore anything having
anything to do with Prescott Industries if they don't want the company to suffer.”
I stand and go to look over her shoulder while she taps out a group text message: If NE1 did not
catch the news, check it out ASAP! Superheroes in Northbridge + Silas Prescott!!!
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, but I ignore it, knowing it's the same text I just read over her
shoulder. But about a minute later, both her phone and mine buzz. There's a text from Jake: We
saw. A says something in this city feels off.
Z texts back: What kind of off?

When he doesn't text back right away, my eyes wander to the time on the top of her screen.
“Crap...Z, I gotta get to work.”

“Yeah. Go on, Player Two. Kiss first.” She taps her lips expectantly, and I bend down to kiss her.
She sneaks her hand around to pinch my ass. “Get outta here. Go make that money, honey.”

“Text if you get done early here so I know not to pick you up.”

“Will do.”

As I'm walking to my car, I feel my phone buzz again. Another text from Jake in the group
chat: A just mind-talked to V. V feels it too. They both def think something in this city feels like LH.
Probs the crystal and the superheroes are related.

Through the short drive to my office, my phone keeps buzzing. I read the rest of the texts as I'm
in the elevator.

Raj: Should we be worried?

Diego: Maybe.
Aleister: Grace and I are about to board a charter flight to London. BTW Jake, the plane is ready
for you whenever you leave for LA.
Jake: Thnx.
Aleister: Anyway, Estela and Zahra, can you be at the Northbridge office in about eight hours?
Estela: I will be there.
Zahra: Sure, if A's tests are done and M doesn't need me to stick around.

“Hey, Craig!” I look up to see our team leader, Kristy, leaning against the open elevator door
with a grin. “You maybe wanna step out of the elevator so other people can use it?”

“Oh...heh...sorry.” I step out, avoiding her eyes. She playfully pushes at my head.

“Where's your brain at, dude? Did you leave it in the Caribbean?”

“Yeah, kind of. I think it got a later flight than I did. Should be here any minute.”

“It better be. We're kinda counting on it to help us plot out this new game, since it was mostly
your idea.”

“Right, right. I'm here. I'm on it.”

I reluctantly turn off my phone and stick it in my pocket. I'll check it again on my break. But for
now, the Catalysts are gonna have to manage without me.

Jake

I guess Taylor wasn't kidding about not liking medical nonsense. She's stoic for the most part,
but she shrinks a little every time an unfamiliar nurse or intern approaches her. She endures
the physical quietly, which is almost worse to watch than if she were freaking out or fighting.
I'm used to her getting feisty when she's facing something she's afraid of. Honestly, if she would
just get grumpy or complain a little, I'd be less unsettled than I am seeing her all quiet and
scared like this. I can tell it's unsettling Diego a little too, because he keeps making dumb jokes
like he does when he's stressed. She makes a half-hearted attempt at bantering back, but her
heart's not in it.

After the initial physical and the peeing in a cup and all that, they leave her alone for a while. At
first, she sits quietly on the edge of the table, but I guess being left alone again with me and
Diego and Quinn relaxes her a little bit, because she gets up and starts to pace, sighing with
irritation.

“Figures they won't just get everything over with and let me go,” she grumbles. “Has to be a
whole long thing...”

“That's the way hospitals work,” Quinn sighs, offering her a sympathetic smile.

“I always knew you were a tough cookie,” Taylor replies with appreciation in her voice. “But to
think of you going through this crap as a matter of routine...you really are the bravest of us.”

Quinn shakes her head. “I was brave because I had to be. I don't really have to be anymore
thanks to you.”

“That courage was learned, but it hasn't been unlearned. That I can promise you. Now you can
put it toward living your own life, and helping other people who are going through this crap as
a matter of routine.” She pauses and smiles. “...You know I'm really proud of you, Quinn. I'm
really proud of all of you.”

I feel a twinge at that. I can't really think of anything I've done in the last five years that she
could actually be proud of. Yeah, I guess I got mine and Mike's names cleared and Lundgren put
behind bars, and that's something that does some good in the world. But all I've really done
since then is pine for her.

I stand up and snare her in mid-pace, pulling her into my arms. She squeaks a little, but she
holds me back.
“What's this?”

“Just reminding myself that you're real. You're really here.”

“If I'm not, you're having a really weird dream.”

I laugh, relieved that she seems to have calmed down a little. Then the door opens and I feel her
flinch again, preparing to shrink into herself. She relaxes just a little when she sees Michelle
pushing a small tray of medical supplies.

“Thank god it's you,” Taylor sighs.

“I am so sorry I couldn't get here sooner. I ended up getting roped into helping to restrain a
surprisingly strong three-year-old who needed stitches. Lay down on the table for me, Taylor,
I'll get the blood draw over with.”

“Is the kid okay?” Diego asks as Taylor gets back on the table and settles back. I pull a chair up
beside her and take her free hand.

“He's fine,” Michelle assures him as she ties the tourniquet around Taylor's upper arm. “Cut his
head when he hit it on the corner of a coffee table rough-housing with his brother. Normal kid
stuff.”

I can't help chuckling. “I remember when I was five and Rebecca pushed me off the swing. Got a
faceful of dirt and a chipped tooth for it. Lucky it was a baby tooth.”

“I still have the scars from the time I broke my arm when I was seven.” Diego turns his arm to
show off a series of small, wrinkled marks on his right elbow. Michelle squints at them.

“Surgical pin scars?”

“Yup,” he says almost proudly. “I was walking down the stairs with my back against the
banister, and I somehow managed to roll over it. My arm got caught and...”

I grimace. “Ohh, gross.”

“It was,” Taylor confirms. I feel her grip tighten a little as the needle slips into her vein, but her
gaze has started to get distant as she looks up at the ceiling. “...That was Memorial Day
weekend, I think. I'd been left with you and your family as usual, and your parents were
throwing a party with your neighbors. We'd both been stuffing ourselves with brownies,
running around with the neighbors' kids. ...I remember the older girl who always wanted to
play house, and the boy I think she had a crush on, who she always roped into being the dad.
She was the one who ran to get your parents after you fell. ...I remember how you
screamed...the little white bone poking through the skin...your dad rode in the ambulance with
you. Your mom had to stay with me until she was sure someone would be able to look after me
until my aunt and uncle got home. She was so calm while she was explaining what happened,
but once the ambulance drove off, she sat down on the stairs and started gasping and crying,
and that made me start crying. I remember her clutching me and saying over and over, 'He'll be
all right, mija. The doctors will fix him up. He'll be all right, mija...' ...And I'm doing it again,
aren't I?”

“What, reminiscing?”

Her mouth twists a little. “...Did that happen in the other timeline? Where I didn't exist? You
breaking your arm?”

“Yeah. ...Except you didn't come visit me in the hospital and bring me that teddy bear with the
doctor's coat and the stethescope.”

“That was kind of a dumb gift, wasn't it.”

Diego laughs. “No, it was cute. Besides, I was so miserable, I was just glad they let you see me at
all. You got to be the first to sign my cast.”

“They wouldn't let me see you for a few days. They told me it was because you had a fever.”

“A post-op fever, I'm guessing,” Michelle says. “From the surgery to place the pins.”

“Yeah. ...I started school that year with most of my arm in a cast. I remember it being really
itchy. And though I don't really remember it hurting when I actually broke my arm, getting the
pins out was awful. And for months afterward, I couldn't straighten my arm all the way because
the muscles were so atrophied.”

“Well, I'm done here,” Michelle remarks, pressing a cotton ball to Taylor's inner elbow and
taping it down. “The good news is, you definitely have blood. I took about a pint out of you, so
lie still for a moment.”

“I'd laugh, but last night I actually dreamt of coming in here and finding out I didn't have human
blood...”

“Well, we'll find out if it's human soon enough. I gotta get these samples to the lab. ...I'll try to be
the one to take you for your MRI as soon as they're ready for you, okay?”

“I'd appreciate that, if you can swing it.” Michelle leaves with the samples, and Taylor settles
back onto the table.

“How do you feel?” Quinn asks, coming to stand at her other shoulder. “If you feel lightheaded
at all, you should turn around and lie with your feet against the headrest so that they angle
upward.”

“I think I'm okay, but I'll keep that in mind.”

“You know, as awful as Diego's broken arm story sounds, I almost envy it. And Jake's chipped
tooth, and the kid getting stitches because he hit his head rough-housing...”

“You mean normal kid stuff?” I ask sympathetically. “Yeah, you didn't have much opportunity to
fall down stairs or get pushed off swings, did you?”

She shakes her head. “...Sometimes...I still can't believe the Rotterdam's is really gone.
Sometimes I find myself asking, 'Where did it go?'”

“That is a damned good question,” Taylor murmurs. “One that I don't really have the answer to.
I mean, I would guess the Island's Heart sort of...rewrote your DNA...?”

“...I wonder if that Prism Gate crystal did the same thing to that Talos guy?” Diego muses.

“It's possible,” I concede. “I mean, even after everything, how much do any of us really know
about those crystals?”

“I have more knowledge of them than any of you...but most of it seems to be...buried. Or locked
behind a wall.” Taylor sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I think I'll be glad to get back to Riverside.
The energy in this city is making me feel...weird.”

I bring her hand to my mouth to kiss it. “It's not gonna be long now, Princess. A few days for the
test results, and we'll be on our way. Just think of this: by this time next week, you'll be
properly home.”

Estela

Even though it's dark outside by the time I settle myself in my office at Rourke International's
Northbridge office, I still draw the curtains and keep the overhead lights off, sticking with a
small desk lamp to illuminate my keyboard. Our Northbridge office is small compared to our
other buildings. In fact, it's just one suite in larger complex, but that is by design. Silas Prescott
has unofficially run this city for decades. As his rival, Rourke was eager to keep an eye on him,
but he was also playing a long game, not letting himself be perceived as a threat before he could
back it up on Prescott's own turf.

In the eerie half-light of my desk lamp and my computer screen, I log into my account, pulling
up the security program feed and opening a secure chat with Aleister, also logged on in London.
A video chat request pops up on the screen and I answer. My brother's face flickers on to the
screen. He sits behind his desk, his own office lit as dimly as mine. I frown a little.

“I can't tell if those are circles under your eyes or just a trick of the light,” I remark.
“It is one o'clock in the morning here,” he replies. “I did my best to sleep on the plane, but a
teething baby with his ears blocked up did not help matters.”

I feel a smile playing around my mouth. “You could let me and Zahra take care of this.”

“No, no. I don't want to hear about it second-hand if I don't have to. Besides. ...I've got an old
friend to help us.” He holds a familiar object up to the screen, a small spherical drone.

“Iris?”

“Zahra may need some help hacking into Prescott Industries, especially if she is to do so
without leaving digital fingerprints. Not that I don't have the utmost faith in Zahra, but this is
extremely delicate business.” He frowns. “Where is Zahra, anyway?”

“On her way. They only just got Taylor back from the hospital an hour ago.”

“Did everything go well there?”

“Well, there was nothing to make the doctors think she was anything other than human. I
suppose we won't know for a few days if the tests show anything else amiss like anemia or
anything like that.”

Before he can reply, a notification pops up on my screen. Zahra's badge has been scanned at the
entrance.

“She's here,” I say needlessly. He'll have gotten the same notification. “She should just be a few
minutes.” Not long after that, Zahra walks into the office.

“The gang all here?”

“Aleister has logged on. And he has Iris' drone with him.”

“Sweet.”

“So, what do we know so far?” Aleister asks.

“From what I can tell, four superhumans have appeared in the city,” I inform him. “Two seem to
be taking the criminal route, one with stone skin, and one who calls himself the Man on Fire.
Guess what his power is. On the other side, we have Talos, the Man of Bronze, and one who
calls herself Dragonness.”

Aleister frowns. “That name sounds familiar. ...Wasn't that the name of a comic book super
villain?”
“I dunno, you'll have to ask Diego about that,” Zahra mutters. “If so, then this Dragonness is
either a nerd, or she was just searching for something that sounded cool.”

“Well, anyway, whether criminals or vigilantes, it seems they aren't going to find a welcome in
Northbridge. Meiko Katsaros, the District Attorney, has publically denounced their actions.”

“Has anyone made the connection to the crystal yet?”

“Not that they've said publically,” Aleister sighs. “What we're looking for here, though, is
anything you can find on the Prism Gate project.”

“Right. Well, fire up your mom, Al. Let's get on this.”

Aleister pushes a button on the drone, and it rises slowly off the desk. Iris flickers to life beside
Aleister. She smiles warmly.

“Hello, my sweet boy. It has been awhile.”

“I apologize, Mother. I haven't meant to ignore you.”

“How is my grandson? And his beautiful mother?”

“Both well. But, Mother, I'm afraid I haven't much time to catch up at the moment. We need
your help.” He gestures at his screen, and the drone turns its eye toward it. Iris's translucent
face flickers with emotion when she sees me, just as it always does. I am the daughter of the
woman who stole her husband's affections. The child he tried to replace her son with, in spite
of the fact that he had never known me. ...But I love her son as my brother.

“Estela. Hello.”

“Hello, Iris.”

“Yo, Iris,” Zahra adds. “Good to see you.”

“Ahh, Zahra. ...What is this about?”

Between us, we explain about Taylor's mysterious return, our suspicions that it relates to the
Prism Gate, and the appearance of superhumans in Northbridge.

“So, basically, we're hacking into Prescott Industries system to see what he's not sharing with
the public.”

“...I remember Silas Prescott,” Iris says softly. “I remember his wife, Helena. She was my
friend...”
“I...am sorry if this causes you discomfort, Mother. ...But I fear I must ask for your help. We have
made it our mission to protect the Vaanti. And now with Taylor returned, we must protect her,
too.”

“Of course I will help, Aleister. There is little harm that could come to Helena now, considering
that she has been dead for some time.”

“Perfect,” Zahra says. “Now can we get on this so I can go home and get some sleep?”

“Of course. Have at it.” I get up, allowing Zahra to take my seat. She begins to type furiously,
images and lines of code flickering rapidly across the screen.

“Connecting...” Iris murmurs.

“All right,” Zahra mutters. “I got a door. Iris, cover me. I'm goin' in.”

For a long while, there is silence, except for the clacking of the keyboard. Neither Aleister or I
dare to say anything that might interrupt, but I find myself growing restless. I walk the floor,
nibbling at a hangnail on my thumb until it starts to throb.

“Okay, Estela, I'm gonna need you to stop pacing unless you want me to lose my shit here. I
found some stuff that might interest you.” I immediately snap to attention, rushing over to peer
over her shoulder. “There are a bunch of files here on the Prism Gate Project. They're not labled
that way and they're encrypted as hell, but I managed to get a peek inside one of them. Iris, can
I download them to you to unscramble later?”

“You may, Zahra.”

“Great thanks. Don't go anywhere just yet, though. There's some more interesting stuff in here.”

“Such as?” Aleister prompts.

“...Email,” Iris chirps, “from: Silas Prescott. To: Employee #24601. Subject: URGENT! Priority:
HIGH Message follows: Prism crystal stolen at gala! Set all available resources to recover it ASAP!
THIS MUST BE KEPT OUT OF THE MEDIA!”

“Well, crap,” I mutter. “A possible time crystal is loose in Northbridge. That bodes well.”

“Hang on, there's still some more stuff here...Hello, what's this?” Zahra's tapping and clicking
grow faster in her excitement. “Jackpot!”

“What? What is it?”

“Old security video feed from twenty-five years ago. Right about the time Prescott says he
acquired the crystal. I'm setting it to download.” A video player program pops up on the screen.
“Aleister, you seeing this?”

“I can see it,” he confirms. “...Can we play it?”

“It's not fully downloaded yet, but what has been is playable.” She clicks on the green triangle,
turning up the volume.

Silas Prescott paces excitedly in a lab while a pretty young woman with coffee-colored skin and
her black hair in braids examines a time crystal under a microscope.
“Where did you say you found this again?”
“I didn't find it. It was Helena. We spent our second honeymoon exploring the island of La Huerta,
helping my old friend Everett survey the site for his new hotel. I was picturing a nice, relaxing
vacation, but you know Helena. She jumps at just about any opportunity to muck around in old
ruins, caves, that sort of thing.”
“Well, what do you expect, marrying an archaeologist?”
“That's exactly what she said. So naturally, we ended up exploring a system of underground caver-
-”

The video abruptly freezes, a white circle spinning in the center of the screen as it buffers.
Zahra abruptly goes rigid.

“Shit! Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit!”

“What? What is it?!”

Her fingers start to dance across the keyboard. “Someone's pushing back, trying to dig me out!
Iris, scramble 'em! Scramble 'em!”

“Scrambling...”

Several tense, silent moments pass. Finally, Zahra snaps, “Okay, Iris, cut 'em off! Sorry, Al, I have
to go dark for a sec.” She enters a command, and the computer shuts off, leaving us with only
the lamplight. She leans back in the chair, her breath shaking.

“...Did you shake them?”

“I think so. Someone sure was at the office late. Had to delete the video feed, but at least Iris has
the files, and she's never failed at wiping my fingerprints before.”

I sigh, rubbing my hands over my face. “Well...now we know a few things for certain: that is a
time crystal from La Huerta. And it is loose in the city of Northbridge.”
 Chapter 8: Return to the World
Summary:
Jake enlists the help of his sister to get Taylor safely home.

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text

Jake

Within a few days, Taylor's tests have all come back normal, and we're given the all-clear to fly
to LA. Varyyn, Diego, Raj, Quinn, and Estela come with us. In light of what was discovered
during their late-night hacking party, Zahra opts to stay in Northbridge, which of course leads
Craig to stay behind, too. It's probably for the best, actually. As much as I know Taylor wants
everyone with her, I'll feel more comfortable the fewer people are around when we bring
Rebecca into the circle.

Mike is waiting at the airport when we land, with a rented van at the ready. I called him before
we left Northbridge, explaining the situation. He agreed to help without a moment's hesitation,
proving once again that even when we've been out of sync like we have lately, he has my back.
We greet each other with a tight embrace on the tarmac.

“How you doing, kid?”

“I'm okay, Grandpa. It's good to see you.” He pulls back slightly too look over my shoulder at
Taylor, lingering shyly beside Diego. “So it is true. You've come back to us.”

She nods, smiling. “...So have you.”

“I understand I have you to thank for that.”

“I'm glad I pulled it off. But...I think we ought to save the catching up until we're a bit less
exposed.”

“Right. Of course. I got motel rooms booked for us, not far off the highway.”

***

We get settled into our rooms and order takeout from a Chinese place just behind the motel to
eat while we wait for Rebecca. I made sure to emphasize the urgency of the situation, and she
promised to meet us as soon as she got off duty, which still gives us a few hours of waiting.
Mike watches Taylor through his good eye. He generally wears a patch over the bionic one
when he's out in public, and for some reason he hasn't taken it off yet.

“So...where have you actually been for the last five years?”
“If I could answer that question, I would. Believe me. But I only have the vaguest idea.”

“...You know, Grandpa here took it really hard when he lost you. Hasn't gotten over you in all
this time.”

I see her jaw tighten. She focuses on the chicken lo mein in the carton she's holding, stabbing at
it with her chopsticks. “Yes,” she says flatly. “I had heard this.”

“Hey, Mike...” I put a hand on his arm. “Ease off her, buddy. It's okay.”

“No, Jake, don't stop him.” Taylor drops her chopsticks into the carton and plunks it down on
the table. “If Mike is genuinely angry at me, if he genuinely thinks that I should have chosen to
let the world burn in one hell or another in order not to leave you...if he genuinely doesn't
realize that leaving you so soon after you'd watched him die a second time shattered my heart
into so many pieces that Vaanu itself pitied me, or that I gained absolutely nothing but
heartache for my choice and my only consolation was knowing that the world was safe and so
were the people I loved...then let him say what he needs to say. I'm ready to listen.”

Fortunately, her speech seems to have cooled whatever lingering resentment or anger may
have led him to mention anything in the first place. He sighs. “No. I'm not angry. Sorry.”

“Never mind. ...I think we both feel guilty about the decisions we made that day for selfish
reasons.”

Her eyes lock with mine, and for a moment I swear I can see Vaanu itself in the eons of pain
behind her gaze. Sometimes she looks at me and her eyes look so old and haunted I feel like I'm
losing her all over again. I gulp against a sudden wave of grief.

“Hey, look, neither of you has to feel guilty, okay? You both did what you had to, and because of
it, we're all here right now.”

“...I need some air,” Taylor mumbles, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet. Before
anyone can stop her, she yanks open the door and stomps outside, leaving a tense silence in her
wake.

Mike sighs. “...Sorry...”

“...She's...been doing that a lot lately,” Diego mutters, smiling apologetically. “It's not really your
fault. She's scared and confused and everything is just a little overwhelming for her right now.”

“We'll just draw the curtains a little bit so we can keep an eye on her,” Raj declares, pulling the
curtains apart just enough to cast his eye outside.

“I still shouldn't have said it. It was wrong of me to imply that she'd done anything wrong.”
Quinn tries to pretend she isn't glancing at me. “...We all know why you said it, though. I'm sure
Taylor knows, too.”

I shift uncomfortably, feeling myself bristle a little. “We know the only reason you said it is
because I've been such a fucking dysfunctional mess for the past five years,” I mutter irritably.

“...Jake...” Mike gives me a look that's so unhappy I can't stay annoyed. But I can't quite shake it
off, either.

“It's true. I have. You saw it up close and personal for awhile there.”

“Yeah. I did. And I know I kinda failed at helping. ...I'd never seen you like that before, and I
never want to see you like that again. I'm not sure...” He trails off, choosing his next words
carefully. “...You were already more in love with her than I'd ever seen you with anyone by the
time I came back to myself on La Huerta. I'd never seen anyone love you back as much as she
did, either. The effect losing her had on you was...scary.”

“...If you'd actually been dead and watching from the Great Beyond or whatever, you'd have
seen me act that way when I thought I lost you.”

“You'd gotten better by the time you found me again. And I'm pretty sure that was her doing.”

“In part,” I admit. “In...large part...But that's who she was, Mike. That's why she existed, to be
what we all needed. Now she's trying to come to grips with an entirely new existence.”

“I'm just scared of seeing you get hurt all over again.”

“We're all afraid of that,” Estela says firmly. “But right now, we all need to be there for Taylor.
Everything she did and gave up was out of love for us. She came back out of love for us. Not just
for Jake or Diego, but all of us. We can't falter when she needs our support now.”

Mike sighs, but he nods. “Of course you're right.” He stands. “I think I should go apologize to
her.”

Diego looks a little nervous at the suggestion. “I don't know if...” But as he considers it, he trails
off and nods. “...Well...maybe that would be a good thing...”

Mike
Taylor hasn't gone far from the door. She leans on the railing of the balcony, looking out over
the parking lot at the mountains that rise above the horizon. It's still early in the afternoon, and
the sun is still high overhead.

“Hey...you okay out here?”

“We're in Los Angeles.”

“...Yeah...we are.”

“I grew up about an hour's drive from this city. That's what all my memories tell me. I look out
at those mountains and know I recognize them. ...But all I can think about is how much I wish
we were closer to the beach right now so it would feel a little more like La Huerta. ...More like
home...”

I cautiously come to lean on the railing beside her, ready to pull back if she seems
uncomfortable. Nothing in her posture changes, so I stay where I am.

“Listen...I'm sorry for what I said. It was uncalled for. I was worried about Jake and I never
paused to consider how vulnerable you must be feeling right now.”

I'm almost surprised when she scowls at me, standing up straight. “Okay, Mike. Let me stop you
right there. I understand what you're trying to say, but I want to make one thing very clear: I
don't care if thirty years from now, Jake and I are settled with three grown children and a
parcel of grandchildren to boot. I will still never deserve any crap for the decision I made that
day. It hurt me more than anyone, and it was the right thing to do. I knew when I gave myself
back to Vaanu that there was a good chance he would end up losing both of us. If you took me
back to The Celestial's rooftop and told me that there was no chance I would ever be able to
bring you back and that Jake would lose both of us beyond a shadow of a doubt, I would make
the same choice all over again, and I am positive you would have, too. Because the cost of
making sure he had one or both of us was just too high. ...I love him more than I have ever loved
anyone, Mike. ...But I couldn't be that selfish. I couldn't let the world burn, and I couldn't give it
to Rourke. ...So I gave myself up and prayed he would be okay. ...I'm sorry he wasn't. I'm sorry I
wasn't okay, either. ...But I'm not sorry for the choice I made.”

I'm quiet for a very long time. There is not much to say to that, because she's right. And finally, I
just say that. “You're right. You don't deserve any crap for that. You made the right decision.”

“...I'm here now, Mike. I'm here, and I'm reasonably sure I'm here for good. But however long
I'm here for, it would be wonderful if I could just be with him...” She folds her arms on the
railing and lets her head drop into them. “...That's all I've wanted for so long...just to be with
him as his wife, for as long as we're both here.”

“You deserve that.”

She turns her eyes toward me. “...I'd like to be able to actually get to know you, too.”
“...I...really?”

“You are my husband's best friend. Besides, I got pretty invested in you. ...The first time we
slept together, Jake told me about you. About how you met, how you died...or, how he thought
you'd died. Jake met me and Diego at the same time, got to know how he and I worked together.
I think we reminded him of the two of you. As he got a little more comfortable with everyone
else, he started telling us all stories about the good times. ...I wanted to know the man who had
been like a brother to the man I loved. When we learned you were alive, I was determined to
bring you back. Not just for his sake, but because I wanted to know you. The guy who
spraypainted 'I can't stop farting' on his parachute in Korean hangul.”

I burst out laughing at that. “Oh, god, he told you about that?”

She grins a little shyly. “Yeah. He did.” Then her smile slips. “...I was sort of there the day your
plane blew up over Kharzistan.”

The laughter dies in my throat. “Wait, what?”

“...How much do you actually know about what I am? What I was?”

“Well...I still got memories from when I was being controlled, so I know what little Rourke said
about you, but that was mostly about how you could be the key to his success or you could
destroy everything, and no matter what, we were to bring you in alive. Also, right before we
fought that three-headed sea monster on La Huerta, Jake told me...I think the whole story up to
that point. You were the Endless that Rourke had been looking for, or rather, some alternate
version of you was the Endless. He told me about the Vaanti...the Island's Heart...”

“...The idols?”

“He told me those were important to the Vaanti. Also...you had said something about watching
everyone die, and apparently this had all happened two-thousand plus times before...”

She nods. “...The Endless forged those idols using...well...using everyone's blood to form a
psychic link to me. She was trying to warn me. And prepare me for what I would eventually
discover. ...Each idol gave me a vision of the past, from before the island, and then showed me a
vision of what I thought was the future where the Catalyst connected with that idol died. The
visions of the past especially were like...being a passenger inside the minds of my friends. I
could feel their emotions, hear their thoughts, but I still had my own consciousness. ...I realize
now those visions of the past were showing me what each person needed me to be...”

“...And...Jake's idol showed the day Lundgren ambushed us.”

“Exactly. ...Because that was the part of his past that weighed him down, kept him from moving
forward.”
“...And you...lived that moment?” She nods slowly. I regard her silently for a long moment.
“...You're gonna take some getting used to, aren't you.”

“Well, I'm a living time anomaly. A human existence has been written for me, but the truth of
the matter is still that I was willed into being when the needs of eleven very special people met
with the energy of one lonely alien trapped on Earth.”

“Still, I can't just treat you like any other girl or guy Jake ever went to bed with. Not only is your
situation completely outside anything I'd ever experienced before, but I don't think it would be
an exaggeration to call you his soulmate.”

“No, I don't think it would be an exaggeration either. But hey, Diego's soulmate is a blue-
skinned prince from a hidden kingdom on a tropical island to whom I am psychically linked,
and I told him that if he ever hurt my friend, I would use that link to destroy him from the
inside out.”

“Well, I'm not psychically linked to you, but I can promise you that if you mistreat Jake, being a
half-alien time-traveling super goddess isn't going to protect you from my wrath.”

She straightens, grinning at me. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“And...for the record, heroic sacrifices don't count as mistreating him. Even if they hurt him.”

“If they did, you'd be a hypocrite.” She turns her back towards the railing, leaning back on her
elbows. “Hey...stop me if this is too personal a question but, why do you wear the eyepatch?
Think your bionic eye is going to scare children?”

“Nah. Most kids see the bionic eye and they think I'm a cyborg, which most think is pretty cool.
The eyepatch makes them think I'm a pirate, which they still think is pretty cool. But the
eyepatch raises fewer questions with adults.” I glance at her. “...Can I ask you a personal
question now?”

“Shoot.”

“You said you saw visions of your friends dying in the idols. ...How did Jake die?” I can
practically see every fiber of every muscle in her body tense. Any ease in her expression is
instantly replaced with agony. “If it's too much, you don't have to answer.”

“It's...not that. But...you're not going to like hearing it. At all.”

My heart sinks. “So...I was involved.”

She nods. “...You were still being controlled in the timeline I saw.” After a moment of hesitation,
she tells me the rest in a rush. “He had been imprisoned by Rourke for five years at that point.
He and I both had. He in a cell and me in a stasis pod. Most of the others were dead, I think.
Zahra had been working for Rourke, but it was all a ploy for revenge. Just before she shot him,
she let loose a virus on his systems that destroyed everything he had been working on, as well
as opening all the cells on the island. Jake got out and came to find me. But as we were escaping,
you...as Mouse, you...well...you shot him. ...He broke your neck before he died.”

...It shouldn't gut me the way it does. I was being controlled. It was a different timeline.
Everything's repaired now. But still...even in the timeline that I remember, knowing that I hurt
him, even if I didn't kill him...

“...What happened to you? In that timeline?”

“Somehow, I escaped. I think I rejoined the Vaanti and learned for a fact that everyone else was
dead, except Aleister. ...I hunted him down and killed him myself. Pushed him out a window.”

“...Wow.”

“I don't look like I have it in me, do I.”

“Not at first glance, no. ...But appearances can be deceiving, I suppose. And I really shouldn't
underestimate a living time anomaly.”

She offers me a half-hearted smile. “No, you should not.”

The door to the room opens, and Jake pokes his head out. “Hey. Hope you two ain't fighting out
here.”

“Not at all,” she assures him. “In fact, we're getting along famously. It won't be long before I pry
all your most embarrassing moments out of him.”

Jake snorts. “Princess, you want those stories, all you gotta do is cozy up to my big sister for five
minutes. Speaking of which, she's on her way, so you might wanna head back into the room.
Don't wanna shock her with you all at once.”

Taylor nods slowly, pushing off the railing and drifting toward the door. Before she can go in,
Jake catches her arm and pulls her in for a tender kiss, cupping her cheek. After a moment, he
breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on hers.

“It's okay, Taylor. It's all gonna be okay. I promise.” He brushes her mouth with his again. “I love
you.”

She pulls herself tightly against him, burying her face in his chest. “I love you.”

“It's not gonna be long. Her precinct's near Venice. We'll be in soon.” She leaves him with
obvious reluctance, shutting the door behind her.

“Where do you want me?” I ask.

“Out here,” he answers promptly. “With me. Gonna need the backup.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “You got it, Grandpa.”

“So...what do you think of her?”

I grin. “Well, I hardly know her yet. But she made a hell of a good first impression on that island.
Remember, the first time I really saw her as myself, she was getting everyone pumped up to
fight a goddamn hydra.”

He laughs. “Hopefully, those days are over. And I hope you do like her when you know her
under calmer circumstances. ...She means the world to me, Mike. ...I ain't never been so in love
in my life.”

“Yeah, I can tell. ...I don't think you have to worry yourself sick about her. She's a fighter, that
one. Hell, on the island, she was the one both Rourke and Lundgren feared most. Above you,
above Estela the Dictator Killer, above Rourke's own son, above Quinn with her superpowers,
above all the Vaanti...no one scared them more than Taylor the Mystery. ...Once she gets her feet
under her, she'll be back to being that unstoppable force.”

“I hope when she does, she is able to stop for awhile.”

I go quiet after that, just waiting with him for the twenty minutes or so it takes to bring the
emerald-green coupe that Rebecca drives when she's off duty into the motel parking lot. She
parks a few spaces down from where we are and gets out. She's dressed in civilian clothes, but I
know she's still carrying her piece under her vest. She doesn't lock it up until she gets home,
and I doubt she's been home yet.

“Hey, Rebecca!” Jake calls, waving to her from the balcony. She waves back and climbs the stairs
up to us. The first thing she does is pull her brother into a hug.

“Good to see you, Jacob. And Michael Darwin, it's been too long.”

I smile, holding out my hand for her to shake. “Good to see you, Rebecca.” She accepts my
handshake with an easy smile, but her eyes show concern.

“Okay, now the pleasantries are out of the way. Jake, you made whatever this is sound pretty
urgent. I just got off a long shift and I ain't even been home for a proper bath yet, so I hope I
ain't been misled.”

“No. I promise you, it's urgent. I need your help.”

“Just tell me you haven't gotten in any legal trouble. If that's the case, you need to get a lawyer
and leave me out of it.”
“Relax, sis, I'm all on the right side of the law. The help's needed in protecting someone else
who's on the right side of the law.”

She frowns. “...You talkin' about someone who's been abused or something? Because that I can
help you with. ...Long as they aren't a minor you kidnapped and that's why we're meeting at a
motel.”

“No, nothing like that. She's twenty-seven. Here of her own free will.”

“I see. What's her situation.”

“...Why don't you come inside and meet her so she can explain it?”

Taylor

Varyyn hides in the bathroom while we wait for Jake to bring his sister into the room. I sit on
the edge of the bed between Diego and Quinn, each of them clutching one of my hands. I can
hardly believe how badly I'm shaking. When I hear the sound of a keycard sliding into the door,
I draw in a sharp breath, gripping the hands that hold mine.

Jake enters with Mike and a woman I recognize as his sister Rebecca. She looks critically at each
of us.

“...Who're all these people?”

“Rebecca, you remember Diego Soto? He was one of the students who won the La Huerta trip.
And that's Raj Bhandarkhar, Quinn Kelly, and Estela Montoya. They were on the La Huerta trip,
too. As was she.” He holds his hand out to me, and I get up to take it. He kisses my knuckles and
winds an arm around my waist. “Rebecca...this is Taylor Chandler. My wife.”

The silence that follows is unbearable, but I can't bring myself to break it on my own. I stare at
Rebecca McKenzie like an idiot, wondering if there's any chance she remembers the time she
saved my best friend's life over a decade ago. Finally, she speaks.

“...Where did you find her?”

“...On La Huerta. And, before we explain any more, there's someone else we need you to meet.”
He nods at Diego, who rises and knocks on the bathroom door. Varyyn steps out. If he is
nervous about meeting Rebecca, he doesn't show it. He finds her gaze and holds it. Rebecca
stares at him, confused.

“...A guy in an alien costume?”

“It is not a costume,” Varyyn replies. “My name is Varyyn. I am a Vaanti.”

Rebecca looks suspiciously at her brother. “...Jake, what is going on here?”

“Sit down, Rebecca. We're gonna tell you everything.”

She obeys somewhat numbly. Between us all, we tell her the whole story. From the bizzare
storm on our way to the island, to finding Rourke in a stasis tube, to the Vaanti, the idols,
returning to Hartfeld to find everything burning, the Endless, Vaanu, and Project Janus. We tell
her how the Vaanti's ancestors were humans who drank the sap of Elyys'tel. How I discovered
my true nature and chose to give my energy back to Vaanu to reverse the damage to the world.
...And how after five years, Silas Prescott's invention had given me the energy I needed to
regain my human existence, and how I was now being retconned into the world. ...We even tell
her that Jake and I were handfasted in a Vaanti ceremony alongside Varyyn and Diego. She
listens attentively, asking thoughtful questions when they occur to her, but otherwise letting us
explain. When we're finished, she sits quietly for a very long time, digesting what she's just
heard.

“...I shouldn't be buying this,” she says at last. “I mean, it sounds insane. ...But between the eight
of you, there isn't a single inconsistency in your story. Which is particularly remarkable
considering you're telling a story about time anomalies. ...Besides that, I follow the news. I
know what's happening over on the east coast.”

“...So, you believe us?”

“To paraphrase the ghost of Jacob Marley, what evidence could I ask of your reality beyond my
own senses? I got a blue man standing in front of me that sure as hell didn't turn that shade
from silver exposure, and two days ago, superhumans burned down a DMV on the east coast.
You tell me why I shouldn't believe you.”

The relief that floods through me almost drives me to my knees. I cling to Jake, who keeps me
upright. I look up and see him grinning at his sister.

“I knew we could count on you.”

“I'm a bit nervous to ask now, but...you wouldn't have told me all this if you didn't need my help
with some part of it.”

“Well, yes,” I admit. “We do need to ask a favor or two of you.”

“For one...we kinda need you to help us hide Varyyn until Diego can rent a place. Or Taylor gets
control of her folks' beach house. Whichever comes first.”

“You want me to hide a blue-skinned man in my little apartment? What if I want to bring
someone home?”

“You can have sex in someone else's bed for a month or two, can't you? Please, Rebecca, this is
important. Diego is Taylor's best friend and she needs him right now, but Varyyn is his
husband, and we don't wanna keep the lovebirds apart longer than we have to.” He flashes her
a set of puppy dog eyes that would melt a heart of stone. “You'd really be helping us out.”

Rebecca's mouth twists, but finally she sighs. “Okay, okay. Enough with the doe eyes. Jesus,
we're both in our thirties. You'd think I'd have built up a resistance by this point.”

“Face it, 'Becca. We're gonna be in our sixties before you stop seeing me as the adorable kid
brother tagging along with you through the woods.”

“Just be glad I remember that more than the smelly, hostile teenaged brother who gleefully told
me all my favorite bands sucked. ...I'll agree to keep Varyyn hidden for at least three months.
But don't dawdle on finding a place of your own to hide him. I ain't saying I'm gonna kick him
out, but I do want my life back at some point.”

“Of course,” Diego assures her quickly. “Believe me, we would like to be living together again as
soon as possible.”

“...The other thing we need your help on is getting Taylor back to her family. As you can
imagine, we'd like to make as small a ripple as possible slipping her back into the world.”

“That...isn't gonna be easy, Jake. At all. Police reports are a matter of public record. And the
whole Rourke/La Huerta thing was international news. ...The reappearance of the last Hartfeld
winner is going to cause a stir, even five years later. The best I think we can do there is make
statements calling for everyone to respect their privacy.”

“Do we have to go through the police at all?” Raj asks.

“If you want her to be on the right side of the law, yeah. She needs paperwork and records to
get a job, after all, which I assume is in your future plans. I suppose if you don't want your
family to know, there might be ways we could--”

“No,” I say quickly. “I want them to know. I want to know them, too. ...I can deal with whatever
attention comes from this. The man responsible for Taylor Chandler's disappearance is already
in prison, for kidnapping, murder, and attempted murder, so I can't imagine that they would
press the issue...”

“It would probably be considered double jeopardy, but procedural defense is slightly above my
paygrade, so I couldn't say for sure.” Rebecca looks around at us. “...Y'all better have your story
straight regarding how you found her and where. And I don't just mean all y'all in front of me.
All your other friends who were on that trip need to give the same story if they're ever asked.”

“Don't worry about that,” I assure her. “We've been drilling the details for days.”

She pins me with a steady gaze. She looks so much like Jake. Her hair is a little more auburn,
but her eyes are the same shade of clear blue, and she has the same high cheekbones and long
eyelashes.
“Taylor, there's something I want to make sure you understand: you're twenty-seven, and
mentally competent, so we can't force you to go back to your family. By the same token, we
can't force them to take you back in, either. You gonna be okay without them for a safety net?”

“I'll take care of her,” Jake says quickly.

“We all will,” Estela promises firmly.

“We're her real family, anyway,” Diego adds. “We won't let her be left in the cold.”

I smile gratefully at them, but Rebecca's statement has put something cold and hard in my
belly. Until now, I had pretty much assumed that my aunt and uncle would take me back, at
least for a little while. I suppose the worry had always been there in the back of my mind that
they wouldn't want to be burdened with me again, but having Rebecca tell me point-blank that
they might have the option of turning me out makes the possibility seem much more real. It
hurts, which is ridiculous. I don't even know these people. Like Diego said, the Catalysts are my
real family. ...But just the thought that the people who raised me in this timeline would be so
indifferent to me that they would turn their backs on me after I'd been missing for five years... I
grip Jake tighter, and he responds to the pressure, pulling me closer. Rebecca regards us all
silently for a moment, then nods.

“Okay, then. ...Y'all got a vehicle I assume?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Mike, why don't you take the blue man to my apartment so he's out of the way.” She pulls
a ring of keys from her purse and unhooks three. “Door to the building, front door knob,
deadbolt. Once you guys are gone, I'll call this in.”

***

The next few hours after Rebecca calls her precinct to report a missing person found pass in a
blur of police officers asking questions, making phone calls, and taking cheek swabs to check
my DNA against the samples taken from my personal affects when I first disappeared five years
ago. After confirming that I am who I claim to be, they finally call my aunt and uncle. My friends
were also taken in one by one and questioned, but they seem to be cleared of any suspicion,
because they're all allowed to wait with me. On a bench in the waiting area, I curl up in Jake's
arms with Diego beside me. Raj slumps on the opposite bench, where Quinn lies on her back
with her head propped on his lap. Estela tries to disguise her anxious pacing by getting paper
cup after paper cup of water from the cooler, only to blush as she asks one of the supervising
officers for directions to the bathroom. She comes back and sits down with a heavy sigh,
drumming her fingers on the bench beside her.

“I'm getting hungry, dude,” Raj mutters.

“Me, too,” Quinn sighs. “It's almost ten o'clock...”

“Well, her folks are coming from Riverside,” Diego says. “But they called them about an hour
ago, so they should be here any minute.”

It's actually another twenty minutes before I finally hear an officer say, “She's right this way,
Mr. and Mrs. Fisher.”

I sit up sharply. Jake squeezes my hand. And suddenly, there they are. I know their faces. Aunt
Molly looks so much like me that most people assume she's my mother. So often when I was
growing up, she would take a long look at me, and the plastic surgeon in her would start
analyzing my every feature, comparing them to hers, describing me like something she was
sculpting out of clay. We're built short, slim, and broad-hipped, though she is a true hourglass
whereas I'm a little bit more pear-shaped. We have the same heart-shaped face, the same
golden-blonde hair, the same cerulean eyes. But my nose, she always said, what she called my
“cute little snub nose,” came from her mother. My mother's mother. My grandmother. Aunt
Molly has an elegant “greek nose” that I tended to envy. But then, perhaps it was all even, since
she confessed to being wildly jealous of my “rosebud mouth”, which must have been a genetic
gift from my father.

She never analyzed Uncle Rob in front of me. There never seemed to be a need. Uncle Rob was
“the most handsome man in the world.” Looking at him now, even with his hair going gray and
thin, his skin starting to slacken, and his potbelly pushing against the waistband of his jeans, I
can have no trouble believing that he was once the sort of handsome that made anyone with an
eye for male flesh swoon.

A part of me thinks I should embrace them. Another part of me still can't believe that they're
real. These are the people who raised me. The family I was granted when time took me back
into its fold. I stand up slowly.

Aunt Molly chokes on a sob and rushes to pull me into her arms. “Taylor...darling, darling girl...”

Even Uncle Rob puts a tentative hand on my back and bends to kiss the crown of my head.
“You've hardly changed a day...”

I hesitantly wind my arms around my aunt. She smells like some kind of elegant perfume. “You
might be surprised.”

The officer clears his throat. “Taylor, do you want to go home with your family?”

I pull back from my aunt and glance back at the others, feeling suddenly vulnerable. “...Only if
my friends can come with me.”

“Your friends?” Aunt Molly repeats.

“Yes. Of course you know Diego already. ...That's Raj, Quinn, Estela...and Jake.” I pointedly take
Jake's hand. “...My boyfriend. ...They were all on the La Huerta trip with me.”
My aunt and uncle are quiet for just a moment, exchanging glances. Finally, Uncle Rob clears his
throat. “Taylor, right now you can have anything you want. The only problem is that after the
three of us, the car is only going to fit about two more...”

“Jake and Diego should go,” Estela says quickly.

“Mike's back at the motel,” Jake murmurs. “I'll text him to pick you guys up, and you can follow.
If...you would be willing to give me the address where they can meet us?” He looks up at my
aunt and uncle. Aunt Molly hesitates for a moment before giving him the address. I recite it
with her under my breath, just to make sure I can.

When we're assured that Mike is on his way, Jake, Diego, and I are ushered out of the station to
my aunt and uncle's luxury car. I'm not sure what kind it is. I doubt it's the same one they were
driving when I disappeared. No one says much on the drive back. I don't think Aunt Molly or
Uncle Rob want to grill me on where I've been or how I was found. I do notice Aunt Molly keeps
angling her gaze toward the rearview mirror to check on me. ...Or maybe to check on Jake since
I stay firmly snuggled into him.

Finally, Aunt Molly does speak up. “So...Jake...you were on the La Huerta trip?”

“Ah...kind of, ma'am, yes. I was the pilot who flew everyone from Costa Rica. Ended up kinda
stranded there.”

“You look so familiar...”

“Well, all of us were kind of plastered all over the news for awhile,” Diego says quickly.

“Me a little longer than some of the others,” Jake adds. “I used to be a fighter pilot in the Navy,
but I was discharged in 2013 after my CO framed me and my buddy Mike for treason. Mike and
me spent three years on the run, but after La Huerta we found each other and got up the
courage to fight back. We won, and our former CO is currently rotting in prison. You probably
remember the trial. It got near as much coverage as Rourke's.”

There is no hint of a waver in his voice as he lays out his story, and I admire him for it. He
doesn't want to keep it a secret, and I admire him for that, too. And I am grateful. My aunt goes
silent.

“My father was a Navy SEAL,” Uncle Rob remarks. “I have great respect for the military.”

“Glad to hear it, sir.”

Then my uncle goes silent, too. I grip Jake's hand, my belly quivering. Ridiculous as it is, I want
these people to like my husband. I want my aunt and uncle to like my family. But so far, I cannot
tell how he's doing. I keep finding myself glancing back over my shoulder, looking for the
headlights of Mike's rented van, carrying Raj and Quinn and Estela. I know the van is a few
minutes behind us, and I wouldn't necessarily be able to make it out in the dark anyway, but I
keep looking back all the same.

It is nearly midnight when we finally turn onto their street, and I can see the elegant brick
exterior of their home, nearly ten-thousand square feet rising two stories above an acre-and-a-
half city-view lot. Uncle Rob hits a button in his car and the gate that surrounds the property
opens, giving him access to the driveway that winds around to the five-car garage. Even with
Jake and Diego beside me, it feels more like I'm being surrendered at a prison than coming
home.

“Wait, what about the others?”

Jake pulls out his phone and taps out a quick text while Uncle Rob parks. After a minute, he
says,

“Mike's about fifteen minutes away.”

“I'm gonna wait for them out front and let them in.”

“...Are you sure, pumpkin?” Uncle Rob asks. “You must be exhausted.”

For some reason, I feel a bit needled by that. “Uncle Rob, in that van are a handful of the people
who were with me during the most terrifying experience of my life thus far. Raj, Quinn, Estela,
and Mike were both willing and able to change whatever plans they had made before in order
to support me a little bit longer. It's not going to sink me to wait fifteen minutes to show them
how much that means to me.”

My uncle blinks at me for a moment. “...Okay, pumpkin. If that's what you want.”

About twenty-minutes later, I lead Mike and five Catalysts up the walkway to the stained-wood-
and-frosted-glass front door with elaborate sidelights and transom. Uncle Rob unlocked it from
the inside, and it pops smoothly open. The vast foyer on the other side is familiar. The marble-
tiled floors, the vaulted ceilings with crystal chandeliers dripping like jewelry, massive
windows with ornate brocade curtains and everything trimmed in cherrywood. The furniture
is all classic, with an emphasis on Victorian style. Aunt Molly never cared for modern design.
There's even a grand piano, and a harp, though both are purely for show. No one in our family
plays, although I do have memories of Diego's mother ocassionally teasing tunes out of the
piano when my aunt and uncle left me in her care, singing for us in a rich mezzo. All of them
except Diego drink in the foyer with awe.

“Wooooah,” Raj breathes. “This is where you grew up?”

“Guilty as charged,” I reply a little sheepishly. “Well...between this place and Diego's parents'
house.”

“The two of us kind of had two homes each,” Diego remarks. “A big house and a little house.”
“I know it's late, and you're all probably tired, but if you're also hungry, there are things to
make sandwiches in the kitchen.”

Raj grins, and I can't help but chuckle at the gleam in his eye. “Why don't you show me where
the kitchen is, and I'll see what I can do?”

When Aunt Molly glances at me, I nod. “Raj Bhandarkhar, our resident master chef. Let him
loose in the kitchen, I can guarantee the results will be amazing. Come on, Raj. I'll show you
where it is.”

Raj's reaction to the kitchen is exactly what I expected. He lights up like a firefly as he takes it in
all the modern kitchen appliances blended seamlessly into the classic beauty of the cherrywood
cabinets and granite countertops. He searches the cabinets and the refrigerator, grinning at the
selection.

“Taylor, dude, I'm in heaven here.”

I laugh, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you, Raj.”

“For what?”

“For reacting exactly how I knew you would. You wouldn't believe how comforting it is to feel
like all of you are still you, even after five years. You've all changed and grown and that makes
me so happy...but everything that makes me love you guys is still here. You're still my
Centaurus. All man, all heart, and a little wild magic thrown in for good measure.”

“Aww, Taylor!” He pulls me into a crushing embrace. “You're gonna make me cry! You're still
the same Taylor you always were to me, too.”

I squirm a little, my voice coming out in a croak. “Raj...you...give really strong hugs...”

He laughs and lets me go. “Sorry. I forget sometimes that you're a delicate little peanut.” He
ruffles my hair. “But seriously. I've never felt like I had to hide any side of me from you, because
you believed in every side of me. I can be smart, I can be wild to the point of being a little
reckless, I can be the master chef, the heart, whatever you want to call me, but you accept it all
as me as long as I'm being genuine. I don't have to be a paradox with you. I can just be Raj,
whatever that means in the moment.”

I grin. “Raj, anyone who tries to label you or put you in a box is inevitability going to miss
something. You defy definition and that's something I love about you.”

He smiles. “Go get comfy with the others. There's plenty here to make a quick, hearty,
nutritious meal to send everyone to bed with.”

***
When everyone has been fed, I show everyone where they can sleep before taking Jake back to
my bedroom. I pause in the doorway for a moment, taking it in. It's a bedroom fit for a princess.
Like the rest of the house, the furniture is elegant. Classical. A queen-sized bed with a brocade
canopy and curtains in cream with a rose and vine design that matches the bedspread. The
carpet is plush white, similar to how I remember it, but it's clearly either been shampooed or
replaced since I lived here, because it lacks any of the food and drink stains it once sported.
Like every bedroom in the house, it has a walk-in closet and a bathroom attached. A set of
french doors opens onto the balcony that winds around most of the second story. Though it has
clearly been kept cleaner over the last five years than I ever kept it while living here, it seems
that at least my aunt and uncle didn't decide to erase every trace of my presence. Posters that I
put up still adorn the walls. My childhood stuffed animals still hang in the hammock Uncle Rob
attached to the corner of my ceiling to keep them organized. The wall unit still displays my
extensive doll collection, my gymnastics medals, and my favorite pictures in frames.

“Could be a suite at The Celestial,” I murmur, wandering over to pick up a framed picture of me
and Diego in cap and gown on the day of our high school graduation. “Not sure what the theme
would be...”

“Creepy dolls that stare at you no matter where you go in the room?” Jake teases, grinning even
as he eyes the dolls suspiciously.

“Hey, show some respect. I'm proud of that collection. And I'll have you know that every one of
those dolls has a name and a personality.”

“Oh, yeah? Who's this one that looks suspiciously like you?”

I smile. “Her name is Cassandra. She was a Christmas present when I was twelve. I was starting
to outgrow dolls by then, but the company was famous for making dolls that looked just like
you, and Aunt Molly thought I should have at least one. I named her after my mom.”

“I gotta admit, I might find it hard to sleep at night with all of them looking at me.”

I laugh. “...Three guesses why I never ditched the princess bed with the curtains that close.”

I shut the door and slip into my closet, searching for a T-shirt or a nightgown or something I
can wear to bed. My clothes are all still there. I select a pair of summer pajamas that admittedly
don't leave much to the imagination and wander into the bathroom. Aunt Molly said there were
still packages of toothbrushes in the drawer. I select one for myself and hold one out to Jake,
who has stripped down to his shorts. He takes it, and we quickly brush our teeth before
climbing into bed together. I turn off the light and draw the curtains around us, leaving us in a
warm, dark nest. I curl up in his arms, my head on his bare chest. In his familiar embrace, with
memories of a life I never had until nearly two weeks ago flooding back to me, I start to feel
strangely calm.

“...I'm home, Jake...”

He kisses the top of my head. “Welcome home, Princess.”

Everett Rourke

When my island was first taken from me, when I was first placed in this institution while Iris
played Solomon with my empire and delivered half to each of my children, I raged. For years, I
raged against the dying of the light, lashing out like an animal at everyone around me. Then
gradually, my rage settled into despair. In my quiet despair, I caused less trouble to my hosts,
and so my freedoms were increased. Then a few weeks ago, everything changed.

My old friend-turned-rival Silas Prescott unveiled his new invention, and I watched with the
rest of the nation on a tiny screen bolted to the wall of my cell. (They may call it a bedroom, but
I refuse to sugarcoat my situation. By the same token, this institution may be called a hospital,
but I know it is a prison.)

I knew immediately where the so-called Prism Crystal had come from. I had never known
before that he had acquired one of my crystals for himself, but in retrospect, I was not
surprised. And I did not have time to be angry with him for his betrayal, because the presence
of that crystal in Northbridge after all the others had vanished gave me something I had not had
in a long time: hope. It's not the Island's Heart. It's not the Endless or Taylor. But it is proof that
not all is lost. All I have to do is bide my time and observe.

The appearance of superhumans is an interesting twist. Quinn Kelly's reaction to the Island's
Heart demonstrated what the alien's presence could do to a human, but I had not thought the
crystals were strong enough to create such a reaction on their own. I am curious how it chooses
who will receive its power.

On this particular morning, I am dining in my cell, watching the news. I have kept it on nearly
every waking hour since Silas' machine was unveiled. Most of it is background noise, but I do
not wish to miss anything. And I am glad for such diligence when something crosses my
threshold of perception and my ears prick up.

“In global news, last night a stunning development in a case that was thought to be closed five
years ago: Taylor Chandler, whose disappearance became international news after it was blamed
on then CEO of Rourke Industries, Everett Rourke, has apparently been found alive. Los Angeles
police received a phone call yesterday afternoon from a motel room in the Venice neighborhood,
where Ms. Chandler was found.”

I raise my eyes to the screen, where images of my island and the Selected drift lazily under a
female reporter's voice:
“Everett Rourke has never admitted to the murder of Taylor Chandler, who disappeared on his
private island of La Huerta in the Caribbean. The eleven young people who were held captive with
her for six months never knew what had happened to her, either, but they feared the worst, even
though no body was ever found. These days, La Huerta is still owned by Rourke International, but
his two children, Aleister Rourke and Estela Montoya, have closed it to the public. Every year
though, they and the nine other survivors of that fateful trip gather on the island to pay their
respects to their fallen friend. And that is apparently where they found her, alive inside a military-
grade stasis pod. Sources say they promptly flew her to Los Angeles via a Rourke International
private jet, where five of her friends waited with her in a motel until police were contacted.”

A picture of Taylor hovers in the corner of the screen while the newscaster behind the desks
reads her lines into the camera with a flawless smile on her face.

“Details of Ms. Chandler's whereabouts over the last five years are still forthcoming, but sources
say that for now, she has been happily reunited with her family...”

I chuckle a little at that. This is shaping up to be very entertaining. I rise from the table and
make my way to the bathroom to get my hairbrush. I am not permitted to have my own phone
in this prison, but the hairbrush was a gift from an old friend. A relatively obsolete piece of
Rourk International technology, but still functional. The hollow back effortlessly conceals the
built-in phone, made from material that will not set off metal detectors. I pop it open and enter
the number of the one who brought it for me. She answers after three rings, speaking with a
tremor in her voice.

“...M-Mister Rourke...?”

“Lila, dear. It has been too long. Tell me, are you watching the news?”

Notes:
With this chapter, my account here is officially caught up with my tumblr! So if you happen to
follow both my tumblr and this account, new chapters will now be posted in both locations. The
next chapter should be up in a day or two.

In the meantime, check out slighter_writer and the fanfic "Endless Summer: Past". It's another
ES fan novelization, similar to mine, but with a different MC. It's not complete at this time, but
it's a good read, and seems to be updated pretty regularly.

Chapter 9: Meet the Family

Summary:
Taylor's family reunion gets off to a rocky start. Meanwhile Aleister, Zahra, and Iris continue to
observe Prescott Industries.
Chapter Text
Jake

The curtains on Taylor's bed diffuse the light as it filters through, softening it even as it rouses
me from my sleep. My wife is still curled up in my arms, looking as peaceful and content as I've
ever seen her. I can't help sighing happily, but the motion of my chest rouses her. She stretches
and turns her face toward me, smiling.

“Good morning, Top Gun.”

“Morning, Princess. Sleep well?”

“Better than I think I have in a long time. ...What time is it?”

“I dunno. There's not really a clock in this little cocoon.”

“Well, there's one on my nightstand, but I don't really feel like emerging from the nest to find it.
I'm comfy here.” She plants a kiss on my chest, and then another, her mouth roaming teasingly
towards my nipple.

“Yeah. Me too.” I let my hand slide under the waistband of her pajama shorts to cup her bottom.
“And I'm getting even more comfy.”

She grins, and I feel one leg hook around mine. She slides on top of me, disappearing under the
blanket as she kisses lower down my belly, hooking her fingers under my waistband. I feel
myself shudder with anticipation. She giggles playfully.

“Oh, good morning...” she purrs, trailing her fingers along my inner thigh.

“Shit, Princess. If you keep going, I'm never leaving this bed, and I'm totally okay with that.”

“I could keep going.” She slides up to poke her touseled blonde head out from under the blanket
and kisses me. “...But I have another idea.”

Every cell in my body protests as she slips off me to push open the bedcurtains, but then she
stands and holds a hand out to me. I accept and she pulls me out of bed. Then she goes towards
the bathroom with her hips swaying enticingly, pulling off her top. She turns back to wink at
me.

“Join me in the shower, Top Gun?”

Nothing in the world could ever make me refuse her. I push down my shorts and kick them off,
following her into the bathroom.
 ***

It's about an hour before we finally get dressed and make our way downstairs. Raj has
breakfast waiting for us on the table, and Mike and the other Catalysts are already awake.

“Yeah, in case you don't remember, Allie,” Diego says, “the room you stuck me in shares a wall
with your bathroom, so don't think I don't know what you were up to this morning.”

“I think everyone knows what they got up to this morning,” Estela quips. “Because it's Jake and
Taylor we're talking about.”

“What about Jake and Taylor?” Molly Fisher's voice, deceptively light and pleasant, sends a chill
through the dining room. Suddenly, we're all acutely aware that in spite of the lavish décor and
the summery air wafting through the palm trees, we're not actually on La Huerta anymore.
We're in California, guests of the people who raised our Taylor. Molly and Rob stand in the
doorway, eyeing us warily. We eye them back, and I slip my hand into Taylor's. We're not
altogether sure what to make of each other yet. But then Taylor looks straight at them, flashing
them a sweet smile.

“We had sex, Aunt Molly,” she says lightly. “In my shower. This morning. Loudly. Frankly, I'm
surprised you didn't hear.”

I hear an inelegant snort behind me as Quinn chokes back laughter. I bite my cheek to keep
from smiling and don't quite succeed. Rob glances at me with a look that all but screams his
displeasure, and I feel the smile fade. I've seen that kinda look before on the faces of old
girlfriends' fathers, particularly when I was a teenager. Some of them got it because they
weren't sure of me, whether I was one of those boys who might go too far with a girl who
wasn't ready for sex, or who would generally be irresponsible with sex the way a lot of
teenagers are. Some of them were just scared of the idea that their daughters were growing up
and looking at boys at all. And some of them were more worried about their own reputations
than they were about the girls they were shielding from me. I ain't sure yet which one Rob
Fisher is, but from everything Taylor's told me, I'm leaning towards the third. And I don't like it.
Molly, however, doesn't look at me. She holds Taylor's gaze, smiling tightly.

“Well. Isn't that something.” She looks over the magnificent spread on the table. “And isn't this
lovely. Raj, is this your handiwork?”

“Guilty as charged. Consider it thanks for hosting all of us.”

“That is very considerate of you. But it isn't strictly necessary. We have a chef who does most of
our cooking. Though admittedly, she doesn't usually get here for breakfast.”

“Then I volunteer to make breakfast while I'm here,” Raj declares. “Please, everyone sit down.
I'll just go heat the syrup for the French toast.”
“We can promise you, you won't be imposing on Raj by letting him make you breakfast,” Quinn
assures them as we all take our seats. “He loves to cook. You may have heard of his
show, Bhandarkhar Fills Bellies?”

“Ahh, of course I have heard of it. I've never seen it, though. I don't watch a lot of television.” An
awkward silence ensues for a moment as Molly looks around at us. “Just...how long can all of
you stay for?”

Glances pass between the Catalysts as Raj returns with a gravy boat full of warm syrup. Diego
helps himself to a couple pieces of french toast.

“I'm planning to stay at my folks for a week or two while I look for a place around here to rent,”
he says. “I'm teaching a course at a college in Costa Mesa this fall, so I was planning to be back
here in a month or so anyway. I'm just a little early.”

“Raj and Estela and I weren't planning to stay any longer than a week,” Quinn says. “We just
wanted to make sure Taylor got settled in okay.”

“And I was really just here because I dropped everyone off yesterday,” Mike adds. “I can clear
out whenever I'm getting to be a nuisance.”

“...I see. What about you, Jake?”

I know what she's really saying. I think everyone in the room knows what she's really saying.
And I have to think she understands what I'm really saying when I raise my eyebrow and reply,
“What about me?”

“How long are you planning to stay?”

“As long as Taylor plans to stay. Ma'am. I go where she goes.”

They clearly don't like that answer, and I can think of a few reasons why that might be the case,
though I'm not sure which it is yet. Maybe they just aren't thrilled by the idea of a stranger
romancing their niece under their roof. Maybe they aren't sure of my intentions. Maybe they
just don't like me. Which I suppose is not unfair. So far I don't like them much, either.

“...Isn't there anything you need to be getting back to? A job, or...?”

“Nothing that's as important as Taylor. I was working in a bar. I can get another job around
here, I'm sure.”

“Look, son, I really don't think--” Rob is cut off by his wife's hand on his arm.

“Robert, please. Let's not be discourteous. Maybe we should hear what Taylor has to say on the
matter.”
Taylor puts down her knife and fork to take my hand under the table. “I want him with me,” she
answers, calmly but firmly. “But I understand if you don't want him in the house. Say the word,
and we'll be packed and cleared out by the afternoon.”

“Taylor!” Rob snaps. “Be reasonable!”

“I am being reasonable. I'm twenty-seven years old, and this is your house. I won't force you to
accept my boyfriend's presence, but you can't force me to stay here without him, either.”

“And where will you go? What will you do for money?”

“Unless you've stolen it, I still have that $5000 savings bond from my parents. Not to mention
the trust fund that you set up for me when I was born. That would have been available to me
two years ago.”

A dangerous hush settles over the table. Everyone has stopped eating, but Molly continues to
cut her french toast into smaller and smaller pieces.

“You have been a missing person for five years,” she murmurs.

“Have I been declared legally dead?”

“...No. You have not.”

“And did you steal the savings bond from my parents?”

“Of course not! It should be exactly where you left it five years ago!”

“Well then. I think between us, Jake and I should have enough money to last us a little while
until we find work. It would have been more convenient to stop here for a little while, but I'm
not going to stay some place Jake isn't welcome.”

“Don't be ridiculous.” Molly speaks through gritted teeth. “Of course he is welcome for as long
as you want him here.”

“Thank you.”

The meal continues in silence. Finally, Taylor finishes and stands, collecting her dishes. “Can I
take anyone's plate?”

“You know there's no need for that,” Molly sighs. “The housekeeper will be here in an hour.”

“It's all right, really. Even if I'm living here for awhile, I don't need to be a mooch.”
I wipe a bit of syrup off my lips and stand beside her. “I'll give you a hand, Princess.” Between
us, we gather up the breakfast dishes and carry them back to the kitchen. At the door to the
dining room, Taylor pauses, turning to smile over her shoulder at the others.

“Why don't you guys get into your bathing suits? When we're done in the kitchen, I'll give you
the grand tour, and by the time we're finished, we'll have digested enough to swim.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Quinn says cheerfully.

The moment we're out of the dining room, the smile drops off Taylor's face. In the kitchen, she
slips the dishes into the sink with a sigh, practically yanking the tap up to turn it on. I set my
pile of plates on the counter and rest a hand on her back.

“...I'm kinda getting the feeling they don't like me,” I murmur. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not sure it's you they don't like,” she sighs. “I think it's this whole situation. ...Maybe it was
a little presumptuous of me to just invite everyone back here and assume they'd be okay with
you staying.”

“You didn't just invite us, Taylor. You said you didn't want to go with them unless we came with
you. And your uncle said that right now you could have anything you wanted.”

“Yeah, but I don't think he was expecting any of you to become permanent guests.” She pulls
open the dishwasher and starts loading the dishes in. “It's gotta be awkward for them. They
had five years to get used to the idea that I was never coming back. Now suddenly I'm alive and
back in their lives.”

I bristle. “Well, you know what? Call me crazy, but I'd think having you alive and healthy would
overshadow any inconvenience that having you back in their house causes!” I shove a plate
between the prongs like I'm angry with it.

“It's...a little more complicated than that, Jake...”

“What's complicated?! It's not complicated for me, or Diego, or Quinn, or Raj, or Estela, or any
of us! Inconvenience can go to hell because you're back, and that's worth everything!”

“It's different for you guys, Jake. You needed me. More than they ever did. ...Maybe they just feel
like I'm rubbing their faces in that, refusing to come home with them unless you guys came
with me. Maybe they feel slighted.”

“Well, fuck their feelings! You're what should be important right now!”

She smiles a little. “...I love you for jumping to my defense. And...ultimately, I think you're right.
But they are human.” She sighs, shrugging. “And hell, maybe you're right that they just don't
like you. But honestly, I can't blame them for being just a little suspicious. We knew each other
for six months, and five years later, you're not only still calling yourself my boyfriend, but
you're sitting in their dining room after meeting them for the first time less than twenty-four
hours ago and telling them you go where I go? That's gotta be damned confusing for them.”

I grunt. “Yeah, maybe,” I grudgingly admit. “But I ain't gonna pretend to be less in love with you
for their sakes. And I damn sure ain't leaving you unless you tell me to leave.”
She takes me gently by the front of my shirt and kisses me. “I would never ask you to
leave or pretend your less in love with me. I'm not going to pretend to be less in love with you,
either. They're just going to have to get used to us as we are. Or kick us out. ...We'll give them a
little time to decide which it's going to be.”

“Fair enough. And I'll try to be nice to them in the meantime. Promise.”

“Good. Ridiculous as it may be, I kinda want them to like you.”

“It ain't ridiculous. They're your family.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” she replies. “I know who my
real family is. And I know who I'll choose if it ever comes to that.”

Estela

In the guest room where I've been set up, I open my suitcase and dig out my swimsuit. I am
hoping Taylor's aunt and uncle won't insist on following us while she gives us a tour of their
home. It was uncomfortable enough sitting through that passive-aggressive exchange at
breakfast. I would wonder how two people who seem as uptight and closed-off as Molly and
Robert Fisher could have raised someone as warm and open and kind as Taylor Chandler, but I
suppose I know the answer to that. The Catalysts made Taylor Chandler warm and open and
kind before the universe gave her a pair of guardians who were uptight and closed-off. But I am
trying not to think of things that way anymore. The new truth is that Taylor is both the
daughter of Vaanu, and a complete human in her own right, with a family and a past outside of
La Huerta. So I suppose her warmth and openness could be attributed to a combination of
nature, and the influence of Diego and his family, who I have been told did more of the raising
of her than her legal guardians. It is probably down to them that she did not turn out more like
my brother, acerbic and bitter until people came along who drew the kindness at his core to the
surface.

I pull a pair of shorts and a T-shirt over my swimsuit and open the door to head back down to
the kitchen. Then I hear voices down the hallway that don't belong to any of my friends. I slip
my shoes off as I creep down the hall. There is carpeting on the upper level, but I can't risk
being heard. The voices are coming from the master bedroom.

“...with her boyfriend living here?” I hear her uncle's voice. “Under our roof?”
“She's twenty-seven, Robert, not a teenager. We can't just forbid her from having a boyfriend or
having sex with him.”

“We can forbid it from happening under our roof!”

“Then she'll just go do it under someone else's roof. Or her own roof.”

“Maybe she should! As you reminded me, she is twenty-seven.”

“Rob, please! She's been missing for five years. She went through god-knows-what kind of
trauma on that island, and you want to immediately push her out on her own? I know you
never liked her, but--”

“Molly, that's not fair...”

“Isn't it?”

“No! It isn't! When she disappeared, wasn't I there pulling every possible string to get her
found?! Honestly, I don't want her to leave before she's ready, before she's got a safety net
under her! That trust fund isn't going to last forever, I don't want her out of here before she's
got a job! But accepting that kid as part of the deal?”
'Kid'? Perhaps it is only because he is the oldest of the Catalysts, but I have a very difficult time
thinking of Jake as a 'kid'. I suppose even at thirty years old, he could be considered a kid by
someone who must be twenty years his senior at least, but the way he says it makes me think
he has formed a decidedly unflattering opinion of Jake.

“What exactly is wrong with him?” Molly sighs. “Is it just the fact that he had sex with our
niece?”

“What about the fact that he just quit a job as a goddamn bartender?”

“He's ex-military.” She says it like it's being offered as a consolation prize.

“With a dishonorable discharge.”

“That was eventually reversed because he should not have received it in the first place.”

“Sometime between when Taylor disappeared and when she reappeared.”

“I'm not sure what your point is there.”

“He supposedly hasn't found another girlfriend five years?”

“Maybe he did and broke up with her. Maybe he's just been having casual sex. There are dozens
of reasons why he might have been single when Taylor came back.”
“I just don't want some grifter taking advantage of our niece at a time like this.”

“Not everyone who tries to date her is a gold-digger, Robert. And even if this one is, isn't it
better we have him under our roof with her where we can look out for her?”

“I just don't want her to end up with someone who can't take care of her.”

I think I've heard enough. Frankly, if I listen to any more, I'm going to get too angry to keep
quiet. I creep back down the hall and resume a normal gait at the stairs to the kitchen. One
thing is for sure: those stuck-up WASPs in there don't know anything about either their niece
or her husband. They've clearly judged Jake unfairly as a deadbeat and a grifter, probably on
the basis of his rough appearance, but their assessment of Taylor as some naive, lovestruck
schoolgirl who can't handle herself is just as insulting. The worst part is that while I believe
they may come around on Jake if they can only see how much he loves Taylor, I have to
question whether they will ever see their niece for who she really is; whether they will ever see
the strong, fiery, loyal, compassionate young woman who saw through my cold exterior to the
human heart of me. It seems strange that the person who touched my life and the lives of all the
Catalysts so deeply could have failed to touch the hearts of the people who share her blood. But
I suppose that is less a mystery of her strange existence than it is a mystery of all existence. I
am no one to talk about blood ties when I rejected the man who sired me while embracing the
child he had so carefully crafted to be his heir—a child he later rejected himself.

I am the last one to make it to the kitchen. Taylor grins, clapping her hands. “Great! We're all
here! Should we start the tour inside or outside?”

***

As they lead us through every flawlessly decorated room, Taylor and Diego share childhood
anecdotes that banish the cold, polished aura from the corners, replacing it with warmth and
nostalgia. They used to send secret messages to each other through the laundry chute running
from the top floor down to the basement, either calling up and down the chute, or dropping
handwritten notes from the top floor. They used to play on the balcony and pretend they were
on a pirate ship, either as shipmates or captives. Inevitably, the ship would sink and they would
run down to throw themselves in the pool, which would cause Diego's mother no end of
distress since she had told them a thousand times not to swim without supervision. We end the
tour at the terraced back yard, swimming in the in-ground pool. Mike lies back in a louge chair
beside the pool, preferring not to reveal his bionic legs or his scars with strangers so nearby.
For my part, with Rob and Molly Fisher inside, I start to feel more relaxed. When we gather in a
circle and start tossing a colorful beach ball between us, the last of the tension left over from
breakfast evaporates.

At first, I don't even notice the angry voices floating out from somewhere in the house. But
they're getting louder. Slowly, we all pause in our game, tipping our heads. I'm sure her aunt
and uncle are two of those voices, but there seems to be another one mixed in there. …And
what's surprising is that they're all speaking Spanish. Diego and Taylor exchange a startled
look.
“...Is that...?” Taylor asks.

Diego sighs. “...Yeah. That's my mother.”

Taylor and Diego hastily climb out of the pool and towel off. The rest of us follow suit, following
them into the house. A woman who must be Diego's mother is pushing her way past Rob and
Molly towards the back door.

“I practically raised that young lady!” she snaps in Spanish. “I can't believe none of you thought
to tell me! I had to see it on the news this morning like--”

“Mama!” Diego's voice is firmly placating. “Mama, calm down!”

She stops, her eyes falling to her son. Then they shift a little ways to land on Taylor. She purses
her lips.

“...And perhaps, mijo, you can explain why you of all people didn't think to inform me that the
girl who grew up as your sister is home safe after five years?”

“We got in late last night,” Diego mumbles, shifting awkwardly. “I didn't think you'd even be
awake.”

She grunts, turning back to Taylor. “...Mija...” She opens her arms invitingly. Taylor steps up
cautiously.

“...I'm...a little wet...”

“Yes, yes, I see you have been swimming. Clearly that was more important than letting me
know you were alive.”

Taylor slips Diego a slightly panicked glance before going to embrace his mother. The older
woman immediately dissolves into tears.

“Mija,” she murmurs, stroking Taylor's cornsilk hair, wet and matted with pool water. “Today is
the feast of San Antonio. Every year since you disappeared, I have gone to church and prayed
for your safe return. I knew you were alive. I just knew it. And today, San Antonio has answered
all my prayers.”

“I...didn't know if you...if you even noticed I was gone,” Taylor murmurs back. “I know we didn't
exactly part on...easy terms.”

She pulls back. “...You were angry with me because of how I left things with your brother.”

“Yes.”
She looks over at Diego. “...Things are better between us now. Little by little, we are making
things right again.”

“...I am glad to hear it, Mama,” Taylor answers softly, then glances around at the rest of us as
she switches to English. “Let me introduce our friends: this is Estela, Raj, Quinn, Mike, and my
boyfriend, Jake.”

“Your...boyfriend?” She casts a critical eye over Jake, and I can't help rolling my eyes. Clearly it's
not just Taylor's WASP family that's going to be disapproving. I can't hold my tongue any
longer.

“We can all vouch for him, señora,” I say dryly. “There is no need to worry.”

“...He is so scrawny, mija,” she grumbles in Spanish. “He might have muscles between his skin
and bones, but he won't for long if he doesn't start eating.”

Jake clears his throat. “I speak Spanish, señora,” he says in the same. “I spent three years in
Costa Rica.”

To her credit, Mrs. Soto looks properly embarrassed, but she quickly shrugs it off. “...Where
have you been, mija?”

“Ramona, please! Don't press her on that now!” Molly hisses. “Taylor, darling, may I borrow you
for a moment?”

Without waiting for an answer, Molly takes Taylor by the arm, forcibly dragging her away.
Immediately, Jake and I step in front of her, glaring.

“Excuse me, where are you taking her?” I ask lowly. Molly looks startled by the sudden human
barricade, but surprise is quickly replaced by annoyance.

“Just into the library, Estela,” she snaps. “I would like to speak to my niece privately, if her
friends would kindly stop acting as if they are expecting her uncle and me to murder her every
time we're left alone with her!”

“Guys...” Taylor says softly, “...Please...”

Jake and I exchange an uncertain glance before stepping aside. Jake is still frowning as Molly
pulls Taylor into the library. Mike puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe I should stick around a little longer. I will if you need me to.”

“I appreciate the offer, Mike, but it seems like a bad idea to make ourselves a bigger burden to
these people than we need to be. Besides,” he sighs, “at some point, this is going to be
something Taylor and I have to face together, just the two of us.”
I purse my lips. “You may ultimately be right. This is your life that the two of you are building
together.” I glance at Diego's mother and lower my voice, leaning in. “...But don't ever forget
that twelve are one.”

“I promise I never do, Katniss. ...Even if it seems that way sometimes, I never forget.”

Grace

On the second night of my show, I get home a little later than I intend to, and perhaps just a
little bit in my cups. At least enough that I don't feel comfortable driving home. Outside our
London flat, I hastily pay the cab driver and dash inside, hoping that Aleister isn't too worried. I
haven't gotten any frantic calls or texts yet, but that doesn't always mean he hasn't been
worrying, at least a little. I pound up the stairs and take a moment to slow down outside the
door to avoid waking Reggie as I open the door and step inside. The light is on in the living
room. Aleister sits in front of his laptop, frowing at the screen.

“Aleister? Baby, I'm home. Sorry I'm late?”

“Hmm? Oh! Grace...” He frowns, and I see him glancing at the clock on his computer before
looking back up at me. “Heavens, I didn't even realize how late it was. Come kiss me, my
darling.”

I do as he tells me, but I'm not too tipsy to be worried by his obvious distraction. “Is everything
okay? Where's Reggie?”

“He's asleep,” he taps the baby monitor on the desk beside him. “I've been keeping an ear open.
...I've just been looking over some of the reports Zahra sent me.”

“...About the Prism Gate?”

He sighs. “For five years, her reports have all been about potential data breeches that she's
already prevented...improvements to our security systems. It's shocking to suddenly be
thinking about extra-dimensional crystals again.”

“What does she say?”

“Well, Prescott Industries has reopened, but we all knew that. But there's also some old
information on the Prism Gate project. It's heavily redacted with some kind of code that Zahra
is still trying to unscramble, but it does seem that Silas Prescott knew nothing of how deep La
Huerta's mysteries ran, much less the Endless. It seems he largely believed my father was
unaware of the island's unique properties. I suppose even after the trial and Father's yelping
about 'crystal people', with the island closed off, Silas must have figured he had a crystal of his
own and there was no need to throw himself against the barrier to comb it for more. Not that
he would have found anything. I think that should keep the Vaanti safe for now at least. I just
hope Taylor's return doesn't attract too much of his attention.”

“I think that might depend on his goal. Does it say anything about that?”

“There is a lot about unlocking the crystal's 'true potential'. Maybe he does simply mean to
create a clean, renewable energy source.” He frowns thoughtfully. “And perhaps the crystal
could be used that way...”

“Well, I hope that's all he's after. If he learns about the crystal's origins beyond La Huerta...”

“I know, I know. Even with Vaanu departed and the island closed, it still puts the Vaanti in a
vulnerable position. Not to mention Taylor. Or any of us, really, if he decides we might know
more than we let on.” He sighs, keeping one arm around my waist as he studies the computer
screen. “There also appears to have been a break-in at the Prescott Industries lab. It's a report
that was buried quite deep behind layers of security, but there is not much that can escape
Zahra and Iris. ...It...isn't really clear what was taken or indeed if anything was taken...”

I bend to kiss his cheek. “You know, sugar, there's only so much you can do in one night, and the
pair of us lose enough sleep as it is. Come to bed with me, okay? It's only 7:30pm in
Northbridge. Zahra will probably have more for you when you wake up.”

“I expect you are right. And in my present state, I would probably miss some vital...” He trails
off, frowning. “...What's this...?”

“Huh?” I frown at the screen, but my exhaustion and slight intoxication make the text blur
before my eyes. “What's what?”

“...Financial records. ...It...seems Prescott Industries received a substantial grant from Mansingh
Global...”

“My mom's company? ...Rourke International has received grants from her, too, right?”

“Indeed. ...It seems she is hedging her bets. I suppose we should be grateful she didn't withdraw
her support after my father's imprisonment.”

“You impressed her,” I reply proudly. Even my own frustrations with my mother's worldview
and behavior aren't enough to overcome the pride that swells in me when I think of that. “You
and Estela. You intrigue her, and she wants to remain an investor because she thinks the two of
you can take the company to new heights.”

“New heights that do not involve exploiting aliens trapped on earth or the human children they
will into being, or the superhuman race that evolved after being exposed to alien tree sap.” He
frowns thoughtfully. “...I wonder if the crystal might behave similarly to the sap...? And that
might be why certain people exposed to it have developed superhuman abilities?”
“It's possible. The Vaanti became what they are by ingesting the sap, but Quinn got her powers
simply by having half the Island's Heart in contact with her body for an extended period of
time...” I sigh. “But it's too late to think too hard about it. Come to bed.”

I take his arm and tug insistantly toward the bedroom. Sighing, he closes the laptop and rises,
smiling. “Very well, my dear. You know I cannot disobey you.”

I laugh. “No, you cannot.”

I look back and see him making a face. “My father is institutionalized, my mother is a hologram,
and your mother is...”

“...My mother.” I finish, not needing to say more.

“Poor Reginald has only one suitable grandparent, and an aunt whom we love, but whose
business is something I would much rather keep him out of. We really ought to make it a habit
to see more of your father. For our son’s sake.”

“You’re right. Especially as he gets older. It will be nice for him to know that there is someone
in his extended family who leads a simple life.”

Chapter 10: A California Interlude

Summary:
Taylor learns a thing or two about her new past, and Jake faces some uncomfortable questions.

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text

Taylor

Far sooner than I would like them to, Raj, Quinn, Estela, and Mike drift back to their lives. At
least I still have Jake and Diego, even if Diego opts to stay with his family. I don't blame him.
Both our families can be a lot to handle, and with a delicate situation like this, it is probably
better to let us each manage one side. Poor Jake is not having an easy time of it with either set
of guardians. He has it slightly easier with Diego's parents, but his mother is still inclined to
criticize him. We've tried to assure him that Diego's mother has criticized every boyfriend I
have ever had—and probably would have criticized my girlfriends too, if she had ever been
able to wrap her mind around the idea of me having a romantic or sexual attachment to
another woman. But maybe that's why it was easier for me to come out to them than it was for
Diego. I learned to live with the fact that she would criticize every boyfriend and treat every
girlfriend as if she were just a new close friend or a phase I was going through. It must have
frustrated her that I seemed to keep relapsing just when she thought I was back into boys for
good. Maybe in that sense, Jake is a relief to her.
For Diego, it was more difficult. He never had a girlfriend his parents could reassure
themselves with. For awhile, they latched onto the idea that he and I would fall into each
other's arms once our hormones hit, or we turned around and had one of those chick-flick
moments where we realized that true love had been there all along. He and I did actually try
kissing once when we were twelve, but it felt weird and neither of us liked it. I still played his
beard on and off, but even if we fooled the rest of the world, his parents eventually started to
understand that we were like brother and sister. Even if we were both straight, I doubt we ever
could have seen each other that way. With that illusion shattered, I suppose it was only a
matter of time before they couldn't ignore the fact that their son was gay any longer.

Diego has been out to his family since sophomore year at Hartfeld, but it's strange to think of
them breaking bread with him and letting him sleep under their roof now. Since coming out, he
always spent vacations with my family, who for all I could say against them have at least never
batted an eye at people for their sexuality or gender identity. ...I don't like to think about how
he managed things in the timeline where I didn't exist. I'm trying not to think about that
timeline at all. I'm just glad his family is getting back on track. ...Maybe it helps that he can't
introduce his husband to them for reasons besides his sexuality still being a touchy subject. I
suppose it is easier for his parents to accept him as a free-spirited bachelor than a man married
to another man, even if the other man in question were not a hyper-evolved human with blue
skin.

On this particular afternoon about five days after my return to Riverside, my aunt and uncle are
at work, and expected to be late. Jake and I have passed a lazy morning in each other's
company, one that puts me in mind of the life he described us sharing the night of our
handfasting. We stay in bed fooling around a little too late, eat a simple breakfast together, and
linger over our coffee before heading out to the terrace to stretch out in the sunshine. At some
point, the housekeeper arrives. It has not taken me long to realize that she doesn't like having
me or Jake around while she's cleaning, so it's a blessing to us all when Diego calls and offers to
take us downtown for lunch.

He's driving a white Mercedes-Benz when he pulls up to the gate. I know it's a rental since he
told me he didn't want to buy a car until he had a place to live, but I still can't help being a little
impressed and proud.

“Look at you, with your fancy-ass car,” I tease as Jake and I climb in. “Those book royalties
really are treating you right.”

He grins sheepishly. “Well, yeah. And maybe I like to show it off a little.”

“Hell, you deserve it, Short Stuff,” Jake declares. “You wrote a good book.”

“So, what are you guys in the mood for lunch-wise?”

“Burgers,” I reply without hesitation. “Burgers and fries and something carbonated to drink.”

Jake shrugs. “Works for me.”

Diego laughs. “All right, folks. Well, we're in California, so let's do this right!”

Not long afterwards, the three of us are sitting in a booth at In-N-Out, savoring burgers, fries,
sodas, and milkshakes.

“Hey, Allie?”

I look up at Diego, mumbling, “Yes?” around a mouthful of meat, bun, and fixings.

“If it's none of my business, you can tell me to buzz off, but...I was wondering. The other day
when my mom showed up and your aunt dragged you into the library...what did she say to
you?” When I freeze mid-chew, he hastily adds, “I mean, I'm just asking because you seemed
upset, but you never said anything else...”

I finish chewing and swallow. “...She...didn't say much, actually. It seemed like once she had me
in there, she forgot why she'd wanted me there in the first place. ...She did ask my why I called
your mother Mama.”

“...You've always called her Mama, haven't you?”

“That's what I said. At which point Aunt Molly just kinda blinked at me and muttered
something about my real mother. I told her I never even knew my real mother...”

“Wait, was she trying to say that calling the woman they hired to raise you 'Mama' is somehow
disrespectful to the mother who died when you were too young to know her?” Jake asks. I
shrug.

“I guess. ...It never bothered her before, though. Or if it did, she never let on.” I frown. “There
was...one thing she said that kinda stood out, though. Something about how my parents tried so
hard to have me...”

“They had trouble getting pregnant?”

“I guess. Unless she means that they adopted me...”

“I don't think that's likely,” Jake remarks. “Given how much you look like your aunt, that would
be a hell of a coincidence if you weren't biologically related.”

“In some sense, I'm not,” I reply before I can stop myself. A moment of awkward silence
descends over the table. I clear my throat. “I noticed the dance studio on the way over here. The
one I used to dance at?”

“Right. I remember.”
“I was thinking I might take a few classes there to keep myself busy. And possibly go back into
the Trainee program. That's where they have older students acting as teachers assistants for
the younger classes. I did it back when I was a teenager,” I explain for Jake's benefit. “I know I'm
older than Trainees usually are, but I've been thinking that in time I might like to teach dance.
You know, for money. This might be a good way to get my foot in the door.”

“If that's what you want to do, that sounds great,” Jake says. “I should probably get off my ass
and start looking for work myself. Your folks aren't gonna be as lenient with me as they are
with you.”

I chuckle. My eyes wander lazily over the In-N-Out's patrons, then stop on one young woman,
heading out the door. My heart leaps to my throat, and I stand up sharply.

“Hey!” Jake takes my hand, looking up at me with concern. “You okay, Princess?”

I stare at the spot where the woman had been standing. In my mind, I can still see her. Slim and
athletic. Doe-brown skin. Dark hair pulled tight in a ponytail, but I can only imagine it short,
cropped close to her neck...

I slowly sit back down. “I...I'm fine. There was just someone here who...looked...like...”

“...Like who...?” Diego asks.

I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I should tell them. My knee-jerk reaction is to play it off,
hide it like I always did on the island whenever something happened that scared me. But no.
I'm not on the island anymore.

“She looked like Lila. I'm sure it was a coincidence.” They both relax a little.

“Probably was,” Diego agrees. “Even if she was alive, I don't know what Lila would be doing in
an In-N-Out in Riverside.”

“She didn't exactly seem like the burger-and-fries type,” Jake adds.

That actually makes me laugh. “You know, I never really thought about it, but you're actually
right. It's really hard to imagine Lila chowing down on a burger.” I pick up another french fry
and cram it into my mouth. “So, Diego, what's the class you're teaching in the fall?”

***

That evening, Jake and I sprawl out on the couch to watch an action movie after dinner.
Something with explosions, a plot that's easy to follow and a romance that's been shoved in as
an afterthought. It's in the midst of a high-speed car chase that Aunt Molly comes home. Uncle
Rob is not far behind her. They pop in briefly to ask if we want dinner, but when we decline,
they mostly leave us on our own for the rest of the evening. After the movie ends, though, the
silence in the den brings them in.
“Would you two care to join us on the terrace for grasshoppers?” Aunt Molly asks. “There's
something we'd like to discuss with you.”

Her words give me a lump in the pit of my stomach, but I don't really feel like I can refuse. I
glance at Jake, who seems to feel the same.

“Yeah...sure...”

A few minutes later, we're all in lounge chairs on the terrace, lit by the outdoor lights and the
lights from the pool, sipping on grasshopper ice cream cocktails. They're a perfect blend of
sweet and alcoholic burn, and I sip mine slowly, savoring it.

“I gotta say, I ain't usually one for cocktails, but this is damn good,” Jake remarks.

“I'm glad you like it,” Aunt Molly says politely. “Taylor...I was wondering if you've thought at all
about going back to school and finishing your degree?”

The question makes me pause. “You know...I hadn't...really considered the fact that I technically
didn't finish.”

“There's no need to rush into the decision. It's just that you were doing so well at Hartfeld, and
it's only been five years. It may be possible that your completed credits will still transfer if you
decide to finish at a community college here. I don't know what work might be available for a
history major specifically, but just having the completed degree will surely give you a boost.”

“That...may be true. I will definitely think about it.”

“...Your uncle and I had a lot of plans for your graduation. We wanted to make a big showy fuss
to show you how proud we were. We have no doubt that you would have completed college
when you were meant to if you hadn't gone through that nightmare. And now that you're
back...we realize that an elaborate party might be a little much for you right now, but we'd had
a few other treats in mind and we hope you will allow us to indulge you.”

Well, that doesn't sound too bad. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, altering our plans slightly to include your boyfriend, here's what we were thinking: I'm
off next Friday. I thought I could take you to get some official things taken care of, Taylor.
Renewing your driver's license, transferring your trust fund, doing some shopping, that sort of
thing. Then, we drive up to Los Angeles to meet Uncle Rob and spend the weekend up there. We
could stay in a nice resort, and on Saturday, you and I could have a spa day like we used to
when you were a teenager. Massages, facials, wraps, mani-pedis...the whole nine yards.
Followed by a nice dinner for the four of us.”

“And while our girls are getting pampered,” Uncle Rob adds, looking at Jake. “You and I can play
a couple rounds of golf.”
Jake looks for a moment like a deer caught in headlights. He clears his throat. “Uh...sir, I ain't
never played golf in my life. ...Except mini-golf.”

“Oh, that's all right, I'll teach you. No one will judge you if you end up over par.”

“You ain't worried I'm gonna break a window on someone's Rolls-Royce?”

He laughs. “There is a reason the course is a decent hike from where the cars are parked. Don't
worry, they take all possible precautions.”

“Well...I guess fortune favors the bold.” He still sounds a little uncertain, but I'm glad he doesn't
look totally panicked.

“Then it's settled,” Aunt Molly says.

“But can we get reservations for everything on such short notice?”

“Oh, don't you worry about that. We'll take care of everything. Promise.”

***

A week from Friday, after taking care of my driver's license and my trust fund, Aunt Molly
insists on taking me shopping for new clothes for our weekend in L.A. She insists that after five
years, I need a new wardrobe anyway. I could try to explain to her that my body hasn't aged.
The official story that I was sealed in a stasis tube would support that statement. But I know it's
not really about what I need. She wants to spoil me, and I suppose I should let her, even if it
feels strange. I half-heartedly examine mannequins in everything from shorts and fitted T-
shirts to sparkly evening gowns, knowing I'm inevitably going to walk away with half the store
crammed into four or five bags.

I might be a little more into the indulgence if there wasn't a half-formed memory that had been
tugging at my mind since we were at the DMV. Renewing my driver's license was a simple
process, since I had apparently been licensed before my disappearance. But that sent my
thoughts tumbling into an entirely new rabbit hole when I realized that to acquire a license or a
passport or anything like that, I would have had to present a birth certificate at some point. And
just like that, I remembered pulling the weathered page out of a lockbox where my aunt and
uncle kept all my important official paperwork. I could picture it in my hand, fragile and brown,
and oddly smooth and shiny. And across the top of the page, in overly elegant script, the
words Consular Report of Birth Abroad stand out in my memory.

“Hey...Aunt Molly...what you were saying the other day, about my mom and dad trying so hard
to have me...what did you mean?”

“Oh, they had a terrible time trying to get pregnant, that's all. Thankfully, the problem was in
your mother's fallopian tubes, not her ovaries or uterus, or your father's sperm, and IVF
worked a treat. Got you on their first try that way.”
“...Where was I born?”

Aunt Molly pauses, her hand on a glittery red evening gown, and frowns at me. “...Don't you
remember?”

“Remember my own birth?” I quip. “Not likely.”

“No, I mean...I've told you the story before, haven't I? I'm sure you asked me when you saw
your CRBA certificate...”

“I...don't remember,” I confess feebly.

“Your parents were on a cruise in the Caribbean, touring the Greater Antilles and escaping the
cold in New York. Cassie was only thirty-four weeks gone, so they weren't really expecting
anything to happen before they got back, but I guess you were eager, because her water broke
just before midnight during the New Year's Party on deck. The ship was anchored somewhere
between Kingston and Santo Domingo, and they had to rush to the nearest port. The whole
thing was over within five hours.”

“Was I born at sea?”

“Well, you were definitely born on the ship. Your mother was never sure if they made it to port
on one of the smaller islands or not. Either way, they had to go to the American embassy in the
Dominican Republic to get you a CRBA certificate so you'd be recognized as an American
citizen.”

“Oh.”

I don't know if my aunt has made the connection. If she paid attention when I won that trip
back in college to where I was heading, if it ever occurred to her to look at a map of the
Caribbean, or if it ever crossed her mind to muse about it. I don't ask. And I don't tell her what
has quickly become obvious to me: that the cruise ship my mother and father were on had
indeed made it to port. Even in this timeline, where I have my own life and my own existence
outside its influence, I was born on La Huerta.

***

They surround me and my friends as we press together, bound and on our knees somewhere in the
jungle. Their skin gleams vibrant shades of blue and green, tattoos curling over their glistening
bodies. Watchers. Hostiles. Or whatever it is they call themselves. They bark at us in a fearsome,
guttural tongue, thrusting spears and knives in our direction.
The sea of green and blue humanoid bodies parts, revealing two blue-skinned males, one stooped
and wrinkled, one young and strong, more than six feet of pure, sculpted muscle. I know the latter.
He is their leader. The one who wore the lion mask. Who touched my forehead and broke the
barrier between us so that we could communicate. Who led the attack on The Celestial. Who took
my best friend from me. All fear is washed away by a cold, desperate anger. I draw myself up on
my knees and capture his gaze with mine, glaring.
“Where is my friend?”
To my surprise, the Watcher's eyes soften as they take in the sight of me. “You are Taylor. ...The
one who was a child with Diego. Who is like his sister.”
“Yes. I am. Where is my brother?”
There is something in the Watcher's gaze that makes me feel cold all over. Something like...pity.
Sorrow.
“I will take you to him.”
“Varyyn...” The old man speaks in his native tongue, but somehow I understand him. “Your mother
has requested that the Catalysts be brought before her immediately.”
“This one is very special to Canis. I must take her to him.”
“And what am I to tell your mother?”
“Tell her that I believe seeing his sister again may give Diego strength. Unless you believe
Raan'losti can be averted with only eleven Catalysts.”
“Wh-what are you talking about?” Dread is growing in the pit of my stomach as my mind races
towards understanding. “What do you mean 'give him strength'? What's wrong?!”
“Come. I will take you to him.” Before I can ask any more questions, he has cut my bonds and
pulled me to my feet. My friends, only understanding half the conversation, immediately begin
shouting in protest, struggling even as amber speartips press closer to their flesh.
“Princess!” Jake cries.
“Take your hands off her!” Sean snarls.
“Where she goes, we go!” Raj adds. “Or else no one goes anywhere!”
“Wait!” I cry. “He's taking me to Diego!”
“Then tell him to take us with you!” There is desperation and fear in Jake's eyes. “Don't let him
take you alone, Princess! Please!”
“You can't trust him!” Estela adds.
“You need someone to watch your back!” Craig agrees.
The Watcher—Varyyn—keeps a grip on my arm. I look back up at him. “...They're afraid,” I try to
explain. “They think you're going to hurt me. They want you to let a few of them come with me.”
“I know,” he answers in English. Surprise goes through me like a mild electric shock, but it's
overpowered by fear for Diego. He looks over my friends. Slowly he points to Jake. Then to Sean.
Then...to Michelle. In his native tongue, he says, “Lupus, Aquila, and Pavo. Cut their bonds and have
them follow me.”
The warriors obey. Jake rushes to take my hand. I grip his as we follow the Watcher into the
village. He leads us into a quiet hut where a small fire is burning. My heart drops into my gut.
Diego, his hair grown to his shoulders and a six-month-old beard on his ashen face, lies curled in a
hammock, shivering under a blanket. His cheeks are high with feverish color. Sweat glistens on his
forehead. His breathing is shallow and labored, ragged as if the act of pulling in air is painful.
“Diego!” I drop Jake's hand to run to my brother's side and find his. His grip is limp in mine as I
gently push sweaty strands of hair off his hot forehead. His eyes flutter.
“A-Allie...?” he croaks feebly.
“It's me,” I assure him, even as I hear my voice trembling. “It's me. I'm here. It's okay, I'm here.
Everything's going to be okay.”
I don't know if Varyyn understood what he was doing when he let Michelle come with us, but I
don't question it now. I look desperately at her, silently pleading with her to fix this. Make him
better. She is already at his other side, feeling his pulse, laying the back of her hand to his
forehead. She is frowning as she puts her ear to his chest to listen to his lungs. She rises, looking at
Varyyn.
“How long has he been like this?”
“Nearly two weeks,” Varyyn answers softly. “We have tried everything we know. But I am afraid
this is beyond our experience.”
“...Pneumonia is beyond your experience?” she asks incredulously.
“I...do not know that word...”
“Inflammation of the small air sacs in the lungs. It's why his breath sounds so ragged.”
“...I have never heard anyone breath that way who did not show...in...injury...” he replies, his voice a
whisper. I bite my lip, trying to hold back a sob as I stroke Diego's cheek with a trembling hand.
Michelle purses her lips.
“Show me what you've been treating him with. If he's been like this for two weeks, things are
unfortunately very, very serious.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don't give up yet, though. I'm
not going to let him die.”
I smile feebly at her, but when I look back down at my best friend, I feel my heart sinking. Michelle
won't stop trying to save him. Not until he dies. ...But I have a terrible feeling he is already past
hope...

Jake

In the darkened bedroom of a luxury suite at a Los Angeles resort, I find myself roused from
sleep. At first, I'm not sure what's got me up. Then, in the darkness, I start to make out the
sound of soft sobbing. Taylor's voice is muffled, like she's crying into her pillow, but the sound
is unmistakeable, and she sounds like her heart is breaking. Still bleary, I roll over and put an
arm over her, drawing her close. She curls into me, weeping brokenly.

“I'm here,” I murmur into her hair. “I'm right here.”

She tightens her grip, fingertips digging into my back. Her face presses into my shoulder. She
makes a noise that sounds like an attempt at speech, but her words are garbled with tears.

“...You wanna tell me what's wrong?” I ask gently. She nods, but she doesn't speak until I ask,
“Was it a bad dream?”

She nods again, this time whimpering, “...It was Diego...”

“He's okay. He's alive and well, and he's in Riverside.”

“...In my dream, he was in Elyys'tel...it was just after we jumped six months ahead.”

“What happened to him.”

“He was sick. Pneumonia, Michelle said. Apparently, he'd been sick for a few weeks...”

“We couldn't save him with the Island's Heart like we did for Quinn?”

“I don't think so. Not in that timeline. Varyyn wasn't elyyshar yet. I don't think he felt brave
enough to demand that Uqzhaal tell him about it. Besides, the Catalysts as a whole didn't have
the rapport with the Vaanti yet that we had when we used the Heart to save Quinn.”

There's not much I can say to that. I just hold her against me, stroking her hair. Finally, I say,
“It's over. Everything we went through on that island is over. The cycle is broken, Vaanu is free,
and you're home safe with me.”

She sighs, nestling into me. “I just wish we weren't in an L.A. resort with my aunt and uncle in a
suite down the hall. That whole nightmare began in a luxury resort.” She whines a little. “God,
Jake, I wish I hadn't agreed to this weekend...”

“Really? All things considered, it seems pretty generous of your folks...”

“Yeah, but it's their kind of generous, which means it's showy and expensive, and whatever this
surprise is on Sunday, it's also going to be showy and expensive...and it was one thing when I
was a kid and I was dependent on them, but taking their money now...that trust fund and
everything...I haven't earned any of it...”

“Are you worried someone is gonna think you're spoiled? That you've had everything handed
to you on a silver platter?”

“Well...yes.”

“And whose opinion is it you're concerned about?”

“...I...” she trails off. “...I don't know...”

“Mine?”

“...No...”

“Diego? Sean? Estela? Quinn?”

“No, not any of you...”

I kiss the top of her head. “Your family knows you're not spoiled. In fact, Princess, as far as I'm
concerned, anything your folks give you, you more than deserve it. You gave up your existence
to save the goddamned world. If your folks want to give you a luxury weekend in L.A., fucking
let 'em. If they wanna give you a car, fucking let 'em. If they wanna give you a trust fund so that
you always have a financial safety net, keep it. You took care of us and the whole world. Let the
world take care of you for awhile.”

“...Raj said something similar.”

“Raj is smart. You should listen to him.”

She lets out a short laugh. “Yeah...I should, I guess. But I don't want the world to take care of me
forever.”

“It won't be forever. Just long enough that you can figure out what to do with your second
chance. And as long as you want me to be a part of it, I'll be here.”

“I always want you here, Top Gun,” she replies affectionately. I roll onto my back to draw her to
my side. She lays her head on my chest. “...Hey...Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“...Do you think it's really over?”

“Is what over?”

“...The island. Everything La Huerta did to us. The two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine loops.
The Endless, the Island's Heart, Vaanu. ...Are we really free from that?”

I want with all my heart to tell her yes. Of course we are. But how can I tell her that when
there's a time crystal running rampant somewhere on the east coast? Truth is, I don't think it is
over, not by a long shot. And while I'm less scared of her disappearing again than I was when
she first came back, I am still fucking terrified that this whole Prism Gate thing is going to end
up hurting her somehow.

“...I don't know, Princess. I really don't. I hope like hell we are. ...But all I can promise is that if
we're not, I ain't gonna let anyone hurt you. And neither are any of the others.”

“I think I'm going to need protection if it comes to it,” she admits. “I don't have any of the
Endless' powers anymore.”

“Hey, maybe you can't time travel, but you're still a badass.” I tap her nose lovingly, and she
snorts. “I mean it. Everything the Endless was and could have been is still in you, and that ain't
changing. Now what's say we get a little sleep? I gotta get up early so your uncle can probably
kick my ass at golf.”

***
At six in the morning, Taylor and I drag ourselves out of bed. We resist the urge to shower
together, knowing that we'll just end up late for breakfast, stumble into our clothes, and shuffle
into the elevator. After hitting the breakfast buffet with her folks, we reluctantly part for the
day. She goes with her aunt, and I follow Rob to his car. From there, things get kinda surreal,
honestly. When we reach the course, I'm introduced to Fred and Leon, who have been enlisted
to complete our foursome. I am introduced as the boyfriend of Rob's niece. They both know
who his niece is. They both know that she's been found. They're both a little mystified that she
“already” has a boyfriend, and can't decide which of us is the one rushing into things.

As we made our way to Elyys'tel a few weeks ago, Taylor told us about when we made that
journey with Rourke and getting trapped in a time loop of approximately twenty minutes. She
was the only one aware of it. She described how every time, something subtle changed, and she
had to learn from each loop until she found the source of the disturbance and destroyed it. As I
play golf with Robert Fisher and his two friends, I start to feel like I can empathize. Rob takes
his turn first, then me, then Fred and Leon. During Rob's turn, Fred and Leon make small talk in
soft voices, trying to figure me out. They ask their questions, and I answer.

“How did you meet Taylor, Jake?”

“...We were on La Huerta together. I was the pilot who flew her and the others from Costa Rica,
and I got stranded there with them.”

“You're up, Jake!”

I take my turn, end up well over par, and slink back to my spot, where the older men have been
muttering. While Fred and Leon take their turns, Rob eyes me quietly. Then it all begins again
on the next hole. The questions...

“So you're a pilot, huh?”

“Well, not so much anymore, but yeah. Used to be a fighter pilot in the navy. Then I got
discharged and flew commercially for awhile. But I was working as a bartender when Taylor
turned up again.”

… and then I take my turn, ending up well over par. It all goes on for more than four hours. But
finally, Rob and I break off from his friends and head into the clubhouse for lunch. The whole
place oozes an old-fashioned sort of masculinity, not necessarily toxic, but it kinda reminds me
of the naval academy in a way that isn't always good. The navy can turn out guys like Mike, but
it can also turn out assholes like Lundgren—and women like Jeanine, who throw their lot in
with assholes like Lundgren out of a thirst to prove themselves, desperation to survive among
the male recruits, a genuine lust for power, or some combination of those. Still, this place has
beer and sandwiches, and I could use a couple of each after what I just went through. We wolf
down sandwiches and Rob orders another round of beers.

“Not bad for your first try,” he says generously.

“Suspect that's a lie, but I appreciate it.”

“Well. Now that we're in slightly more private surroundings, I was hoping you and I could
discuss a few things, man-to-man.”

I should have guessed something like this was coming. “Let me guess. You're wondering about
my 'intentions towards your niece'.”

Rob barely bats an eye. “Something like that, yes.”

“You do know she's an adult, right?” I probably shouldn't act so cocky, but I don't have it in me
to play humble and deferent to this guy when that would mean playing into this bullshit notion
of Taylor as some delicate, naive flower. She fought a fucking hydra for fuck's sake.

“Even adults can be taken in sometimes,” he replies.

“I don't think you have to worry about that with Taylor. She can smell bullshit a mile away.”

“Nonetheless, perhaps you can reassure me.”

I take a deep swallow from my second beer. “Fine. My 'intentions' are to be with her and love
her as long as she lets me. To be her partner in life. To be her friend and her lover.”

“You speak very romantically for only having known her for six months.”

“When you know, you know,” I reply, shrugging. I finish off my mug.

“...Another round? We don't have to meet the ladies for at least another four hours. And worst
case scenario, we'll get a car to the restaurant.”

“Yeah, sure.” I shouldn't. I know I shouldn't. I have a bad feeling he's trying to get me drunk so
I'll give something away, like my intention to marry Taylor for her money, then murder her and
flee back to Costa Rica. And I'm a little worried I'll end up blurting out just that in a moment of
drunken frustration and he or someone else in this uptight purgatory will take me semi-
seriously. But I accept a third mug, trying to nurse it a little.

“I didn't know for sure that Molly was the one for me until we'd been dating for three years.”

“Yeah, well, if you'd been in a situation like what the twelve of us went through, you probably
would've known sooner. Being held prisoner by a lunatic criminal tends to make feelings clear
pretty damn quick.”

“Still, it's been five years. Have you had another girlfriend in all that time?”
“A couple. Couple boyfriends, too,” I say pointedly. Taylor's told me her aunt and uncle are
aware of and fully support her own sexual orientation, so I doubt they'll be put off by mine, but
I want to lay as many of my cards on the table as possible so they don't have anything to use
against me later.

“None of them lasted?”

“You must know what grief is like. You build walls that aren't easily knocked down. Taylor
knocked down a lot of my walls in the time I knew her. When I thought I'd lost her, I built up
new walls for her. Ain't no one I went to bed with who stuck around long enough to knock 'em
down.” Oh, fuck me, I've somehow managed to finish my third beer, and here he's ordering
another round. I'm starting to feel a little heady. “One guy came close, but didn't prove up to the
task in the end. And now, six months later, the love of my life is back, and she still loves me. If I
still want her and she still wants me, why shouldn't we be together?”

“Do you intend to marry her?”

Oh, fuck shit on a cockstick...what the hell kind of question is that and why do I suddenly feel so
unprepared for it? The words are half out of my mouth before my brain catches up to me.

“We're already married.”

“...What.”

Classic reaction. Flat affect and everything. The expression halfway between disbelief and
displeasure. I grimace, looking into my mug of foamy amber liquid. Same basic color as the
Catalyst idols. Or apple juice. Probably a common substitute on film and television when an
actor's character needs to drink beer for a scene. Hell, my sister once tricked me into tasting my
dad's beer by telling me it was apple juice when I was a kid. Never touched apple juice again.
Still like beer though. ...Where the fuck are these thoughts coming from? Oh, god, what was I
talking about?

“I mean, not...legally. It was like, two days before Rourke dragged 'er off and stuck her in the
tube we found 'er in. We thought we were gonna die, so our friends threw together a little
ceremony for us.”

“...In prison?”

My inebriated mind races, searching for the most plausible combination of truth and bullshit I
can muster. “Well, no. We'd managed to escape him and throw him off for awhile, but the way
things were going, we weren't all that hopeful that we'd make it off the island. Like I said, it
wasn't a legal ceremony or anything. Just a ribbon tied around our hands and speaking vows.
But what the hell is legal marriage except a piece of paper and tax breaks and shit?”

“...So, you don't have any plans to legally marry her?”

I kinda get the feeling I fucked this up somewhere. “I mean...if she wants to, then yeah. Let's do
it. But you know the only reason she's calling me her boyfriend and not her husband is she
didn't want to freak you guys out.” Good god, McKenzie, just shut up!

But then Robert Fisher surprises me. “If you're going to be my niece's partner for the long term,
whether or not you marry her, you will need a job. It's true she has a trust fund that could last
her a good long while, but I don't want either of you relying on that forever. Especially if she
decides to go back to school and complete her degree. So, I would like to offer you a job.”

“...I...you...what?”

“At my firm. One of my employees has a spouse whose job is transferring them out of state in
two weeks. It's not anything complicated or fancy, doesn't require a law degree. It's just clerical
work. But it pays well. Have you ever done anything like reception or anything administrative?”

“I...did some temp work here and there after getting off the island...”

“That's fine. We've got time to train you. We may have to get you some new clothes, too. ...But
that's only if you accept the position.”

“I...well...” I pause a moment to hiccup. “...I...don't know how wise it was to ask me that when I'm
verging on drunk.”

“Should I ask again tonight?”

“Yeah...please do...”

***

A few hours later, I've sobered up, showered, and dressed in some clothes I borrowed from Rob
that he says will be appropriate for the restaurant we're dining in. He's got me in a sportcoat
and tie, so I'm guessing it's someplace fancy. We don't say much on the way to the restaurant,
but I do accept the job offer, which he acknowledges with a satisfied nod and a promise to take
me shopping for appropriate attire tomorrow.

The restaurant is some five-star French place, elegant and classy, with a dance floor and a live
string quartet. Molly and Taylor are waiting for us outside. When I see my wife, my jaw drops.
Whatever they did at that spa certainly did it's job. She looks absolutely stunning, practically
glowing in a glittering dusty rose evening dress. Her hair is swept up and pinned back in an
elegant twist, with soft golden ringlets framing her sweet, heart-shaped face. She beams as she
comes to kiss me.

“Don't you look handsome,” she murmurs. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“I sucked at it, but no one said it,” I quip. I lean over to kiss her ear and whisper. “I let slip about
our symbolic wedding. Didn't give too many details.”
I can practically feel the anxiety ripple through her, but she pulls back and smiles. “It's okay,”
she replies, softly but not so softly that Molly and Rob couldn't hear if they wanted to. “It was
bound to come out sometime.”

I smile, reaching up and tucking a loose ringlet behind her ear. “...God, you look beautiful.” I
turn, offering her my arm. “Shall we?”

Surprisingly, the subject of mine and Taylor's “symbolic” wedding doesn't come up over dinner,
although Rob does announce that I've accepted the job he offered. Between dinner and dessert,
we join a number of other couples on the floor to dance. They're playing a waltz, but only a few
couples seem to actually be waltzing. Most of us are just wrapped up in our partners' arms,
swaying gently. Taylor's arms twine around my neck and we look into each others' eyes as we
move.

“You seem pretty at ease,” I remark. “I guess that trip to the spa did what it was supposed to?”

“It was really heavenly,” she admits. “Nothing wrong with a little indulgence now and then, I
guess.”

“Feeling better about what's likely going to be a showy and expensive surprise tomorrow?”

“A bit, yeah. But you know what I'm really feeling good about?”

“What?”

“Being here with you.” A mischeivous smile flickers across her face and she waggles her
eyebrows. “...And all the stuff I want to do to you tonight.”

“Oh, Princess, you read my mind. You don't think your folks'll let us skip dessert, do you?”

“Unfortunately not. We'll just have to make do with two helpings.” She presses close to kiss me.
“Just don't lose the mood before then.”

I nuzzle her neck. She's wearing some kind of perfume, something flowery and just a little
musky. She's warm in my arms, a perfect fit.

“I don't think there's a chance in hell that I'll lose the mood tonight, Princess.”

Notes:
So, I think drunk Jake may be my favorite Jake...
 Chapter 11: A Grand Opening
Summary:
The plot thickens in Northbridge as Zahra, Craig, and Iris bear witness to a superhuman attack

Notes:
Fair warning, there are moments in this chapter that get a little NSFW. I was in a bit of a strange
mood when I wrote much of this chapter.
Chapter Text

Estela

I smile as I lounge on my bed with my phone on speaker. My brother is on the other end.

“So her aunt and uncle bought her a luxury car, hmm?”

“They did. They took her to the dealership so she could customize it.” There is a note of
amusement in Aleister's voice. “But Diego says she's a little self-conscious about the whole
affair, so if she is driving it next time we see her, we must be discreet and not make a big to-do
about it. ...To be honest, I can empathize with her. When you already feel isolated, a big
expensive status symbol doesn't exactly make you feel less isolated.”

I frown a little at his words. “Do you think she feels isolated?”

“Diego says she's still coming to terms with everything. She seems to be doing well, but I expect
her world feels both very large and very small. The Catalysts are the only people she feels close
to, and except for Jake and Diego, we're all spread out over the world.”

I am quiet a moment. “...Any other news?”

“Well, I understand Jake is going to be working for her uncle, and Diego may have found an
apartment, so Rebecca McKenzie can get her life back. Meanwhile, Raj is nearly finished filming
in Tokyo, and he has a notion to film a series based directly on the Catalysts now that Taylor is
back with us.”

“What kind of series?”

“Well, a series of episodes for his cooking show, I imagine.”

I snort. “You know what I mean, cabrón.”

“I think he intends to explore dishes from our various home regions and ethnic backgrounds.
Traditional Colombian cooking with you, for example; something Cajun or Louisiana Creole for
Jake...”
“And Chinese cooking for Craig, I suppose. But what about those who might not know their
ethnic background, like Taylor, or Sean, or Grace? What then? California cooking? Floridian?
What's traditional fare in Washington D.C.?”

“I don't know, but Raj says it is surprising what one can discover about regional fare in a
country as big and diverse as America. Key lime pie hails from Florida, doesn't it?” He doesn't
wait for me to answer. “I don't think he'll have much luck in England, though. We're not really
known for our cuisine. But in any case, he said regional fare was just a starting point. You know
how he likes to add personal touches to everything he makes. I think he is hoping to do with
regional dishes what he did with those cocktails on La Huerta.”

I chuckle. “Well, as long as he gives me time to prepare...” After a moment, I ask. “Tell me about
Northbridge. What is the news there?”

“...There is not very much new to tell, I'm afraid. Silas Prescott's son, Grayson, is going to be
opening his new nightclub this weekend. Craig and Zahra are going to scope it out for any
possible leads on the Prism Crystal's whereabouts.”

“A nightclub? Are you sure they aren't just going to get drunk and make out?”

“That is exactly what I expect they are going to do there. ...But it's the only possible source of
new information that we have right now. Zahra is still having trouble decoding the files on the
Prism Gate Project.”

“Are you sure you don't want me back in Northbridge? It wouldn't be any trouble. San Trobida
is quiet these days. I don't have to stay.”

“What about Andrés?” I hesitate long enough that he speaks again. “Are...things not going well
between the two of you?”

“It isn't that. I enjoy being with him. Very much. It's just...by now...I had hoped to feel a little
more sure of things...”

“I am sorry to hear that. ...If you want to come to Northbridge, you don't need my permission.
This is your company, too. I won't discourage it either. You could probably be helpful. But just
know that right now, there is no need for you to drop everything and rush up to Northbridge.”

“I understand. Tell me what else is new.”

There is not much more news that either of us could have, short as the time has been since we
saw each other last. Eventually, we run out of things to say. Also, Andrés is supposed to be here
soon. I reluctantly hang up and go to freshen up a bit.

***
Andrés is already waiting for me in the San Trobida national park when I arrive, about fifteen
minutes late. I pause a moment to look at him. He is an objectively handsome man, three years
my senior, with scars to match my own, which is hardly surprising given our similar histories
and involvement in the resistance. He smiles at me as I approach.

“You're running late,” he admonishes without any real reproach. I smile back.

“Sorry. My brother called. I got caught up talking with him.”

He stands to meet me, kissing my cheek. “How are things with him?”

“Oh, well enough. My nephew is running him ragged as usual.” I am trying to force lightness
into my voice. I don't want Andrés to pick up on my anxiety. But sometimes the man can be
irritatingly perceptive. He frowns.

“What's wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seem...distant. Troubled.”

I could try to play it off, throw him off the trail. But he already knows how to read me,
something I would find more impressive than irritating, except that I can't quite read him with
the same ease.

“...You know that we found Taylor Chandler when I was last with my friends in the Caribbean?”

“Yes?”

“We're a bit concerned about her, that's all. After all she went through, she is still adjusting.”

“I see.” He gestures invitingly toward the walking path, stepping up beside me as I start down
it. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

“It's...rather difficult to explain.”

“It's a big park.”

“There isn't all that much to tell, Andrés. Really. She's been locked in a stasis tube for five years
and readjusting to life is just...difficult.”

I can't tell him that I'm also concerned about extradimensional crystals that might cause her
problems beyond readjustment to a life she didn't even have until a few weeks ago.

“You're a good friend, to be so concerned.”

“Yes, well...she was a good friend to me. She kept me human when I had nothing but grief and
rage to focus on. ...If I had met my brother before meeting her, I would not be calling him my
brother now. I certainly would not have run late anywhere on account of catching up with him
over the phone.”

“She sounds like quite a person.”

“She is. ...One of the most extraordinary people I have ever known. Thinking I had lost her once
was devastating...” I trail off, realizing I'm on the verge of saying too much. I sigh, knowing
Andrés has already picked up on that fact. For a moment, I brace myself, expecting him to press
the matter. But for once, he lets it lie.

“It's a beautiful day today,” he remarks. “Perfect weather.”

“Yes,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Absolutely perfect.”

Diego

“So, what do you think?” I flip the lights on as I lead Varyyn through the one-bedroom
apartment in Riverside. Naturally, I transported him here after dark, picking him up from
Rebecca McKenzie's apartment in LA not long after ten. “It looks better in the daylight.”

It doesn't exactly look bad in artificial light, either. It's well-kept and high-tech, and it came
with sleek, modern furnishings, which suits my situation since I don't know how long I'll be
living here. Varyyn nods approvingly. “It is bigger than the flat in London. It looks very fine and
comfortable.” He turns to smile at me. “Of course, my darling, I would live in a hovel if you were
there with me.”

I laugh, feeling my cheeks grow warm. I move toward him, twining my arms around his neck.
“How is it that you can still make me blush after so long?”

His arms slide around my waist as he pulls my hips to his. “I suppose I just know you.” He
presses his mouth to mine, his tongue caressing the backs of my teeth. I inhale, sucking lightly
on his tongue, savoring the taste for a moment. I let my hands fall to his chest, my fingers
curling around fistfuls of his polo shirt. I chuckle.

“You know...it's still really weird to see you in clothes,” I mumble against his mouth.

“Would you prefer me out of them?” His voice is a husky purr that makes my heart race and my
blood sizzle with desire.

“Always.”
“I believe the feeling is mutual.” He kisses my mouth, my cheek, my ear. “I have missed you.”

“I've missed you, too. I'm sorry if I seemed like I was neglecting you, or--” I'm cut off by a blue
finger across my lips.

“Don't. Don't apologize for being where you were needed. Just because I miss you when you are
gone does not mean that I expect you never to leave me on my own. Especially when it is
because Taylor needs you.” He pauses, cupping my cheek in his palm. “You know that I care
very deeply for her, don't you? Not only because she is your best friend, or because she is an
important figure to my people. I admire her very much for who she is as a person. If you can
help her, I want you to help her.”

I feel my heart swelling. Grateful tears prick my eyes. “God, Varyyn, I love you so much.”

“And I love you, my Diego.”

I smile, my hands grasping the bottom of his shirt. “Okay, seriously. Clothes look weird on you.
They need to come off.”

He laughs, pulling off the shirt. Then he grasps mine. “Fair is fair, my love.”

“I suppose it is. Should we take this to the bedroom?”

“I frankly do not care where we take it.” He is undoing the button on my jeans now, kissing
down my bare chest. He goes slowly to his knees, his lips leaving tingling kisses down my torso.
I gasp, shivering with anticipation as he starts to lower my pants and underwear. I step out of
them, my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. When his kisses sink lower, when his mouth
starts to move, I feel my legs go weak. I collapse into an armchair behind me, and briefly
wonder if Varyyn steered us over to it on purpose. I bury my fingers in my lover's sea-colored
hair, gasping and moaning as he works at me. Sweat blooms over my skin, every muscle on my
body tensing and shuddering with pleasure. Finally, gripping fistfuls of his hair, I cry out in
ecstacy, going limp in the chair as he rises to kiss me.

“Well, that's one way to christen a new home,” I quip. “But I don't think it's complete until you
get yours.”

“Is that so?”

I grin. “To the bedroom, husband. I've got a few surprises for you in there.”

Zahra
“Woof! Lookin' hot, Z!”

Craig eyes my cutout black club dress approvingly. I turn and arch my back, pushing my butt
toward him and throwing a wink over my shoulder. “You know it. I plan to get some action here
tonight.”

“Oh, yeah? With who?”

“That dude.” I jerk my head at a particularly sculpted young man with dark hair and tattoos
who already has a baby-faced blond piece of man-ass pinned against the wall outside The
Grand, where he appears to be chewing the boy's mouth off.

“Ten bucks I find them doing it in the men's room sometime tonight,” Craig snickers. I snort.

“Twenty bucks says they don't make it that far. My bet's on behind the bar.” I look around at the
eager crowd gathered outside The Grand. A camera crew stands just a little ways off to the side,
the reporter putting the last minute touches on her makeup. “...How long until opening?”

Craig glances at his watch. “Ten minutes or so, if everyone's on time. What's the deal on this
place again? What are we looking for?”

“Not anything in particular. We're just here to keep an eye on Prescott's kid. He's the brains
behind this place. Meanwhile, we've got Iris tapped into the city's traffic cameras. And if she
sees anything noteworthy...” I grin, pulling something out of my pocket to show to him. He
gasps as he recognizes the device.

“No way! The Anachronist earpieces? We still have those?”

“Yup!” I reply proudly. “Specially modified by one of R.I's own to let me talk directly to Iris. And
to the untrained eye, it looks just like a fancy bluetooth device.”

“Sweet!” He holds up a hand, and I slap my palm against his. “Oh! Don't look now, but here
comes a limo!”

The white stretch limosine pulls up to the curb. The crowd presses toward it, but the camera
crew keeps their place at the front. The chauffeur opens the door, and a classically handsome
young man with blue eyes and impeccably coiffed golden hair steps out, smiling at the crowd of
reporters with the same practiced ease as Sean on a game day.

“That's gotta be Grayson Prescott,” I murmur to Craig. I raise my eyebrows as a second figure
emerges from the limo and takes Grayson's arm. She's a tall drink of olive-skinned water with
long waves of silky black hair, dressed in a club top that shows off a pair of exquisitely toned
arms. “...And he appears to have brought Avatar Korra with him.”

“Well, if it isn't the man of the hour!” the reporter chirps. “Grayson Prescott, Northbridge's
favorite billionaire heir, makes his appearance!”
Grayson chuckles. “That's quite an introduction. My friends usually stick with Grayson.”

The reporter laughs a little more loudly than necessary. “And I see you've brought a beautiful
friend with you tonight. Who is this?”

The Avatar Korra lookalike smiles, blushing a little. “Hi, I'm Tahira. And I'm just here to party.”

“And if I didn't have to do this interview, I'd be right there with you,” the reporter replies,
giggling. “I'm dying for a drink.”

“Uh...right on?” Tahira answers uncertainly. Grayson clears his throat.

“Why not talk about The Grand? That's why we're all here, right?”

“Of course! I understand you undertook this venture with Northbridge's resident It-boy, Kenji
Katsaros. Is he here yet?”

The name immediately rings a bell. Craig elbows me as the man in question seems to
materialize beside Grayson.

“If the chick is Avatar Korra, would you say that dude is Mako?”

“Kinda smiley for Mako,” I mutter back. “...He's the son of the D.A.”

“The one who's threatened to arrest all the superhumans? Including the ones fighting the bad
guys?”

“The very same.”

“--Personally, I couldn't be more excited to bring this legendary establishment back to Bayside.”
Grayson Prescott's voice captures my attention again. “My hope is that we can all work together
to build a brighter future for this neighborhood, without sacrificing everything that makes it so
special.”

But the reporter doesn't directly answer Grayson's comment. Someone else has captured her
attention.

“Oh, shit...” I hiss through gritted teeth. Silas Prescott is stepping out of a sleek black car that's
just pulled up to the curb. He puts on an easy smile, swaggering up to the reporter.

“Am I late?”

Just like that, Grayson, Kenji, and Grayson's hot date are apparently forgotten as the reporters
swarm the city's unofficial overlord.
“Mr. Prescott! How do you feel about your son going into the nightclub business?”

“Unbelievably proud,” Prescott answers. “And really, this is only the beginning of our plans for
the Bayside neighborhood. Prescott Industries is very interested in...revitalizing this
neighborhood. It's been neglected for far too long, if you ask me. I've been talking to a few local
real estate developers about what steps we can take to change that.”

From the look on Grayson's chiseled face, I can tell that was not what he wanted his father to
say.

“Uh-oh,” I mutter to Craig. “Looks like all's not well between father and son. Don't think they're
on the same page about Bayside.”

“Wonder what page Grayson's on...” He shakes his head. “Well, maybe we'll find out tonight.
Come on. They're opening up.”

***

I gotta say, I can't fault Grayson Prescott or Kenji Katsaros when it comes to taste in nightclub
décor. The thumping music and swirling colored lights, blended with the old-fashioned caberet
theme kinda remind of Quarr'tel and the Anachronists. Which reminds me to switch on my
earpiece.

“Hey, Iris.” I greet her casually with the intent of making the other patrons believe I'm chatting
with a friend. “Can you hear me okay?”

“I can hear you quite well, Zahra. Shall I stand by?”

“Yeah, you do that. Craig and I are in the club, so we're gonna go mingle. Let me know if you
find anything out.”

“I will, Zahra.”

“Whaddya think, Z? Pretty sweet here, huh?”

“Definitely. Maybe I can talk Grayson Prescott into letting my band do a show here sometime.
Come on, let's hit the bar. We'll be able to see more from there.”

We weave our way over to the bar and order ourselves a couple beers. The bartender cracks
open two chilled brown bottles and sets them in front of us. Craig and I clink the necks of our
bottles against each other and swivel around on our stools as the music fades for a moment to
allow Kenji and Grayson to address the crowd from the stage. It's the obligatory opening night
speech allowing the two men to pat themselves and each other on the backs. Grayson seems to
have shaken off whatever chip may have been on his shoulder after his father's appearance
outside the club. Or maybe he's just acting. They make a quick toast, and then we have their
permission to party.
I nurse my beer, watching the crowd for awhile. I'm not exactly sure where to start here. It's
not like I can just follow Grayson Prescott around all evening, but I should probably keep pretty
close to him. On the other hand, I'd also like to finish my beer. I mean, Craig is already halfway
through his.

“Tahira, would you like to introduce a topic of conversation?”

The name catches my attention. I turn slightly to see Grayson's date on a barstool with a glass
of champagne in hand, surrounded by three people I don't recognize, but who I guess are
friends of hers.

“Let's talk about Dragonness,” she suggests. “Hero? Villain? Potential role-model? Discuss.”

Her three friends blink at her. “Uh...what?”

She shrugs. “You told me to come up with something.”

I manage to cover a snicker before I turn my attention back to the other patrons, trying to pick
Grayson out of the crowd. I finish my beer and stand up to make the rounds. Craig follows me
patiently, not interferring except to nudge me and point out the sculpted man with the tattoos,
who happens to be stumbling into the men's bathroom, still sucking the baby face off his blond
piece.

“Think you might owe me ten bucks,” Craig drawls.

“Damn. I'm impressed. ...On the other hand, we don't actually know what they're doing in
there...” I grin wickedly at him. He pales a little.

“What...? Oh, no. No way. I am not going to spy on them!”

“They might be getting it on in a public restroom!” I say, feigning shock. “Don't you owe it to the
other patrons to break it up?”

“I think most people are gonna be too drunk to notice...”

“And what if they're not?”

“Come on, Z! Why get in the way of their party?”

“Because I'm pretty sure the management frowns on patrons getting it on in the bathroom?
Okay, if you don't wanna break them up, will you at least do me the favor of getting concrete
proof that they're not just holding each other's heads while they puke their guts up?”

“I told you, I don't wanna spy on them! It feels...sleazy.”

I roll my eyes, but I have to admire him a little. I know him well enough to know that his
reluctance is coming from exactly where he says it is. He doesn't want to either interrupt or spy
on an intimate moment between strangers. ...Still, if they're going to have sex in a public
bathroom...

“Well, I've got ten bucks at stake here! I'm not paying up without proof!”

Ignoring Craig's protests, I march straight into the men's room. ...Unfortunately, I am
immediately greeted by unmistakeable noises, complete with dirty talk. And through the crack
in the slightly ajar stall door, I am treated to the sight of another crack as Baby Face takes
Tattoos doggy-style. I have to raise an eyebrow as Baby Face growls at Tattoos to “take it all”
and Tattoos pleads with his “Master” for more. ...Kinky. I really hope they used lube first... Ahh,
there it is. A half-empty bottle of K-Y with its top popped, dripping a small amount onto the
pristine tiles. Right next to an empty condom wrapper. I sigh and retreat, rejoining Craig.

“You win, Craiggers. At least they're being safe about it. I'll pay you later.”

He grins. “I'll let you buy the next round. Though...it looks like Grayson's getting a little hot
action of his own...” He nods to where the billionaire heir is hitting the dance floor with his arm
candy.

“Well. We should stick close to him. Feel like dancing?”

“You know it!”

For a little while, pressed against Craig with my eyes on his face, I almost forget to watch
Grayson Prescott. Then a voice sounds in my ear.

“Zahra!” Iris says. “An attack is in progress at the DA's office.”

“What?” I stop dancing, frowning.

“I believe it is the superhuman known as the Man on Fire.”

“Z? What's wrong?”

I bring my mouth close to his ear. “An attack on the DA's office. Man on Fire.”

“Should we go?”

“What the heck can we do? Shouldn't we let the superhumans take care of it?”

“Well, I don't know! Aren't you supposed to be looking for more information?” He suddenly
frowns, looking behind me. “...Hey...where's Avatar Korra?” I turn around to see Grayson
standing on his own, sipping at a drink. A pair of women slink past me.
“Kenji Katsaros left in a hurry,” one of them announces to the other. “Saw him rushing out of
here just a few minutes ago.”

“Damn,” the second woman sighs. “Wouldn't have objected to eating that eye candy awhile
longer.”

“Superhumans Talos and Dragonness have just arrived on the scene.”

I frown. “On second thought, maybe we should go. Just to observe. We'll keep a safe distance,
though. I don't think either of us are equipped to fight superhuman torches as we are.”

***

With Iris' guidance, we manage to find a place to observe the battle from a safe distance. It isn't
all that easy, with most of downtown Northbridge being...well, on fire. The battle is already in
full swing by the time we get there. DA Katsaros is lying on the pavement. She's still moving,
but slowly. Weakly. Clearly injured. Meanwhile, Talos and Dragonness are facing off against the
Man on Fire, moving together with elegance and precision that I can't help but admire. Craig
whistles a little.

“Good teamwork there. Reminds me of Sean and me on the field back at Hartfeld.”

“Iris, I hope you've been recording this footage for us.”

“I have, Zahra,” Iris replies almost smugly. “And it is all being delivered to Aleister and Estela.”

“Dope. We'll just hang around long enough to make sure the DA gets to safety.” Talos is already
going after her. Meanwhile, Dragonness appears to have the Man on Fire on the ropes. The
flames around his body are sputtering out. “Right. They seem to have this in hand. We should
get back to the--”

“Holy shit!” Craig yelps.

In the space of a brief moment, the Man on Fire has gained a second wind and gone for
Dragonness with a blade made of fire protruding from his palm. But Talos has managed to get
in between them, and now the time of the flame-blade is sprouting from his back. He collapses,
bleeding molten bronze.

“Oh, fuck!” I grab Craig's hand. “Come on, we gotta get out of here!”

“But, what about--”

“There's nothing we can do! We gotta run!”

Aleister

I stare numbly at my computer screen as the video plays out before me. Grace stands behind
me, her hands on my shoulders. I don't have to look at her to picture the grim expression on
her face. We've already viewed Iris' traffic-camera footage of Northbridge around the time of
the attack on Meiko Katsaros. Footage that clearly revealed Kenji Katsaros transforming into
Talos. When all was viewed together, it seemed quite clear that Grayson Prescott's executive
assistant, Tahira Rogers, is also Dragonness. Whether or not Grayson is aware of this fact
remains to be seen.

Now, I'm watching Grayson address a crowd of reporters from inside Prescott Industries' press
room. His loyal assistant, as well as another Prescott Industries executive, a middle-aged
woman with a fierce look about her, are beside him. Tahira expertly fields the question of why
Kenji Katsaros disappeared from the opening of The Grand, never batting an eye. Then
questions turn to the Prescotts' plans for the neighborhood of Bayside.

“I can't endorse my father's comments regarding Bayside,” Grayson declares. “He had discussed
his plans with me earlier, and I made it very clear I wasn't on board.”

A ripple of astonishment goes through the reporters. The older woman's face twitches with
barely concealed panic. But Tahira smiles serenely, looking almost proud.

“You mean to say you won't support your father's development ambitions for Bayside?”
“That's correct. The remarks he made last night do not reflect me or my business. Now, if you'll
excuse me, I have nothing more to say on the subject.”

I pause the video, sighing. “Well. ...This could prove interesting.”

“I think it could be a good thing,” Grace remarks. “If Grayson is to be the future of Prescott
Industries...”

“True. I just wish I knew a little more about who that assistant of his is when she isn't in front
of the cameras. Tahira Rogers. Dragonness. Is she friend or foe?”

“Everything we've seen about Dragonness suggests she's on the side of right. I mean, she
helped save the DA. And then she fought off those theives at the warehouse.”

“...It does seem she has good intentions,” I concede. “...That theft has me worried, though.
...Zahra and Iris have managed to work out what was stolen.”

“...What?”

“It's something they call 'liquid Prism'. Apparently, Silas Prescott has recovered the crystal.”
“...And he's learned how to process it,” she finishes grimly.

I nod. “Like my father did.”

“But...isn't liquid time crystal poisonous to humans? I thought Jake said that Uqzhaal tried to
murder Taylor that way once.”

“I'm not sure this particular crystal is behaving exactly like the others. The Endless' diary said
the crystal was sentient. I know she was talking about the pillar, but...perhaps the others are
sentient in their own way...”

We fall silent for a moment or two, contemplating. Beside me, my phone starts to buzz. Estela is
calling. I turn on the speaker.

“Hello, Estela.”

“I'm coming to Northbridge,” she declares.

“I take it you have reviewed all the new information.”

“Yes. And it seems to me it's all getting large enough that I need to be in Northbridge more than
San Trobida right now.”

“I think it will come as absolutely no surprise that I agree whole-heartedly.”

Chapter 12: Ghosts

Chapter Text

Taylor
I awaken to pain flooding my senses and hard, sun-baked stone underneath me. Images flash
through my memory. Arachnid. Fiddler. Tetra. The Catalysts scattered. Jake beside me, his fearful
expression, his frantic screaming as we are dragged apart. ...Falling...tumbling over a cliff...the
rocks battering my body, tearing my flesh...
I'm lying on an outcropping now, a mile of sheer cliff face below me, and at least ten feet of it
above me. My right wrist and my left knee are throbbing. There's a spot on my left temple that
feels like it's on fire. My exposed skin stings with sunburn. I make an attempt at sitting up, crying
out as my body protests. I sink back down, weeping with pain and terror.
“Taylor! Taylor!”
There's a familiar voice above me. I crane my neck, a painful effort. “...Sean...?”
He's looking down at me, eyes wide with alarm. “Taylor, hold on! Just hold on! We're coming for
you!”
...We...? Before I can ask, his face disappears from view. I'm not sure how much time passes before
a rope drops down in front of me. But after that, it's only moments before Estela appears, kneeling
beside me on the outcropping. She cups my face in her hands.
“Can you hear me, Taylor? Are you with me?” I nod weakly, and she exhales with relief. “Good.
Now, I'm sorry, I know this is going to hurt with your wrist the way it is, but I don't trust your grip
at the moment.”
She holds my gaze, her dark eyes encouraging as she gently takes hold of my wrists and binds
them together in front of me with another piece of rope. I can't help whimpering as the bonds pull
tight, putting pressure on my injury. Estela slips her head and one arm through the loop my arms
have made and grasps me around the waist, pulling me against her body.
“Okay, Sean! Pull us up!”
I try not to be dead weight as we're pulled painstakingly up the cliff face, my one elbow hooked
over Estela's powerful shoulder so that I hang like a bandolier across her body. I bite my lip
against the pain that comes spiking with every inch up the cliff, trying not to cry out, but the tears
are blinding me by the time we reach the top and Sean cuts me loose from Estela.
A swallow of water from a canteen brings a moment of unbelieveable relief. But as I'm laid back,
pain floods my senses again. Sean and Estela kneel over me, looking me over.
“The knee looks dislocated,” Estela says flatly. “The wrist might be broken. That cut on her head
will need to be cleaned at least. It might need stitches, but I wouldn't trust either of us to take care
of that.”
“We've got a few first aid supplies,” Sean responds softly. “At least we've got alcohol swabs and a
few bandaids. That should hold her until we find Michelle or we reach Elyys'tel...”
“El-Elyys'tel...” I mutter. “No...Jake...Jake is...”
“...We know,” Sean says grimly, covering my good hand with his. “At least...we figure if he isn't with
you, he must have been taken.”
“We have to find him...”
“We will.”
“We can't leave him!”
“Taylor!” Sean cups my face gently, turning me toward him. “Look at me. Look me in the eye and
tell me you think I'm gonna leave him.”
Sean's dark eyes hold my own blue ones steadily, burning with intensity. I feel my heartbeat
slowing to normal. Fear for Jake is still making my blood sizzle, but Sean is right. I know in my
heart of hearts that he would never leave Jake in danger. I manage a weak nod, and he offers me a
smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
“We just have to get you somewhere safe first, okay? There's no way we can just leave you out here
alone.”
“Th-the others...?”
“I'm afraid right now it's just the three of us,” Estela says softly. She passes Sean an alcohol swab.
“Here. We need to get her head cleaned up a little before we move on. We don't need infection
setting in.”
Sean keeps me looking at his face, speaking encouragingly to me as he dabs at the gash above my
eye. I wince at the sting, but I manage not to cry out. But I can't quite hold in a whimper when,
after I've been cleaned and bandaged, he lifts me into his arms and I feel invisible knives driven
into me all over my body.
“I'm sorry,” he murmurs. “I wish we had something to give you for the pain...”
A sharp click makes him freeze. I feel his grip on me tighten, and I crane my neck to look. My belly
goes cold. Five Arachnid soldiers impede our path, their rifles trained on us.
“Your friend there looks pretty bad off,” the one in front says. “You come quietly, maybe Mr.
Rourke'll see fit to fix 'er up. If not, someone else is gonna get hurt.”
“I don't think you understand how this works,” Estela replies coldly. “None of your filthy ilk will
ever touch this girl without paying for it with your lives. Now, if any of you are willing to tell me
where Jake and any of our other friends you may have hostage are, you'll leave here relatively
intact. If not, you're useless.”
When the soldiers laugh at her speech, Sean clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You'd think they
never met this woman.”
“They're about to meet me,” Estela snaps. “Oh, and Sean? Try not to be stupid and stubborn just
now. Whatever happens, you currently have Taylor in your arms, which means you're responsible
for getting her somewhere safe.”
With that, Estela throws herself at the troops. Sean only hesitates a moment before taking off with
me. I struggle weakly in his arms.
“Estela!”
“She's okay! She's right! I have to get you somewhere safe!”
We crash through the jungle, Sean hugging me close to his body. I let myself hide my face in his
chest. I can't run anywhere with my knee like it is, and I'm feeling too heady to try anyway. Then, I
hear Estela's voice and my heart lifts.
“Took out three!” she declares from somewhere on Sean's right. “There's two left, so keep an eye—
Sean, look out!”
I feel Sean turn sharply, hunkering over me. There is a sharp crack, and then I'm tumbling to the
jungle floor, Sean slumping over me. Every cell in my body turns to ice as I start to make out the
sound of him choking, gurgling...as I start to feel the warm blood spilling over me...

Sean

Michelle's alarm goes off at five in the morning. It's a soft, gentle tone, but it's enough to wake
me. She didn't get off work until ten the night before, but she turns off her phone and valiantly
pushes herself upright. As she sits with her legs dangling over the edge of the bed, yawning, I
roll over an prop myself up on my elbow, reaching out to stroke her shoulder.

“Good morning, sweetie.”

She rubs at one eye, turning a weary smile on me. “Go back to sleep, Sean. It's off season.”

“Not for you.” I push back the covers and stand up to circle around to her side of the bed and
take her hands. “Come on. I'll make you breakfast while you shower.”

She lets me tug her to her feet and into my arms, but she grumbles as she wraps her arms
around my neck. “Come on, Sean. You waited up for me until eleven last night. You need more
sleep.”

“Maybe. But unlike you, I can catch a few more hours after breakfast. You have another long
shift ahead of you, and I'm not letting you face it without a proper meal.”

“Oh, fine. It's hard to argue when you're being wonderful.”

“I know. It's my secret weapon.” I give her a quick kiss. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

Michelle showers and dresses while I put the coffee on and prepare two bowls of oatmeal,
apples, blueberries, raisins, and cinnamon for her, and plain butter and salt for me. I've just
finished laying the table when she emerges, running a comb through her damp blonde hair. It's
been awhile since she last dyed it, and its natural black color is showing at the roots. I study her
for a moment, smiling.

“Ever think about letting the dyed hair grow out and going back to black?”

“From time to time. It might be easier to maintain on my current schedule. Why, do you think I
should?”

“I think it's your head and you should ultimately do what pleases you,” I reply. “You'll look
beautiful either way. But I am a little curious how you'd look with dark hair. You've been
blonde the whole time I've known you.”

She sits down at the table, grinning. “Think I could pull off a streaked undercut like Zahra used
to have?”

I laugh. “You'd be the most punk intern at the hospital.”

She chuckles. “Nah. I've had my hair short before. I liked the way it looked okay, but I've always
liked it so much better long. But maybe it is time for a change. If I don't like it once I grow it out,
I can always dye it again.”

I smile at her as I start on my breakfast. If someone had told me five years ago that I would be
sitting at the breakfast table with Michelle Nguyen, discussing her hair style and watching my
engagement ring sparkle on a chain around her neck, I wouldn't have believed it. Honestly, I
wouldn't really have believed it four years ago. It took awhile for things to stop being awkward
between us. Not a day goes by that I don't think about how I almost lost her thanks to my own
pride and stubbornness—or how lucky I am to have her now.

My phone startles me when it starts buzzing. I glance at the screen, frowning. “...It's Taylor.”

Michelle's eyes betray alarm. “...It's two-thirty in the morning on the west coast.”

I answer quickly, putting the phone to my ear. “Taylor? What's going on?”

“...Sean...?” Her voice quivers as it comes down the line. “...I'm sorry to call so early...”

“It's earlier for you than it is for us. Michelle and I are already up. Are you okay?”

She is quiet for a moment. “It feels a little silly to say it out loud...but...I had a bad dream...”
Jake's voice joins hers. “Calling was my idea, so you can blame me.”
“I dreamed about you dying on La Huerta...I...”
“Oh...I think I understand. ...Hey, Michelle is sitting at the table with me, and I think your call has
her pretty worried, so I'm gonna put you on speaker...”

“...Okay...”

I thumb on the speaker and set the phone on the table between us.

“Hey, Taylor,” Michelle says, trying and failing to keep the concern from her voice. “Is
everything okay?”

“Well...yes...sort of. ...I had a dream about Sean dying on La Huerta, and I just couldn't shake it...so
Jake suggested I call him just to reassure myself and...saying it out loud once made me feel silly,
and now I've said it again, and I feel utterly ridiculous.”

Michelle visibly sags with relief. “Totally okay, sweetie. Just glad no one's actually hurt.”

“...Is everyone doing okay over on your coast?”

“We're all fine here,” I assure her. “You want me to get Quinn? She'll still be asleep, but I'm sure
if I tell her you're calling, she won't mind waking up to say hello.”

“No, that's okay. I...should let Jake get back to sleep. He'll be up early for work, and I've got dance
classes all day.”

“Speaking of work, I need to be getting out the door. Taylor, Jake, love to you both.” Michelle
stands and comes around the table to kiss me as she gathers her purse up. “And extra love to
you, Sean. I'm on call tonight, so don't wait up.”

“Love you,” I reply. “You show 'em what you're made of, Super Doc.”

“Bye, Michelle,” Taylor says. “Love you.”

I wait until I hear her leave before I turn my attention back to Taylor. “You think you might be
able to get some sleep now?”

“Probably.” She chuckles. “Jake's already asleep. ...I'm afraid I've been keeping him up at night...”

“In a good, sexy way? Or...” I feel myself frowning. “...Have you been having a lot of these bad
dreams?”

“...It's...not...”

“...Not what?”

“Not...important.”
“...You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But please don't tell me it's not important. It's
got you calling me at what is for you two-thirty in the morning.”

“Okay...it's important. But...”

“Are you telling Jake, at least? Or Diego?”

“Jake knows. Like I said, I've been keeping him up at night. I've told Diego some of it, but not every
detail.”

I am quiet a moment. “...Are they worried?”

She makes a noise that sounds frustrated. “They're worried about me...”
I have to take a moment to process that statement. “...What are you worried about?” There is a
long stretch of silence. I hear the squeak of bedsprings, footsteps, and sound of a door opening
and closing. More footsteps. “...Taylor? Are you still there?”

“I'm here,” she says softly. “...Sean...do you guys still need me?”

Something in the question makes my pulse quicken in a way that feels like a warning. “Wh-
what do you mean?”

“I have a past now. I was born to human parents. I have human guardians. I spent my childhood in
Riverside. ...But I can't make myself forget the fact that I was originally willed into being as...as the
phsyical manifestation of everything eleven people and one alien needed me to be. To be the best
friend Diego needed all his life. To be someone Raj could show every side of himself to. I thought...I
thought when I gave myself back to Vaanu that it was the end for me. That I had fulfilled my
purpose. As much as I wanted to come back...now that I'm here, I...” She chokes a little. “You
eleven are my whole world. You're everything to me. And most of you are thriving and successful
and happy and...I just wonder...maybe I wasn't meant to come back. Maybe this is a cosmic
mistake...”

“...Taylor...”

“...I can't talk to Jake or Diego about this. It would scare them too much to hear me talk like this.
Especially Jake.”

“Yeah, I can imagine it would scare him. ...It's scaring me a little.”

“...Sorry.”

“Don't apologize. I get it actually. More than you might think.”

“You do...?”
“Yeah. I mean...how many times on the island did you or anyone else have to tell me to stop
being the hero? All my life, I had it half told to me, half built it up in my head that I had to
protect everyone. That I had to carry all the weight myself, because I was the only one who
could. ...Isn't that kinda what you ended up being told when it came down to it?”

“...I'm...not sure I follow.”

“When you learned what you were. How you came into existence. Even if it didn't use these
exact words, Vaanu basically told you that your whole purpose was to protect the rest of us. To
keep us safe and get us home again. And you were the only one who could do it.”

“I was the only one who could--”

“Bear with me a moment. I've got a point, I promise. The point is that I know how scary it is
when you think you have to bear all the weight yourself to see other people taking it on. Hell, I
was recovering from a gunshot wound, and you and Michelle still had to hold me down and
force me to rest because I was so terrified of being useless. Maybe it's all on a much smaller
scale, but I get where these fears are coming from. And let me assure you right now that just
because we're thriving thanks to the lessons and strengths you taught us doesn't mean we
don't still need you.”

“...Really?”

“You know how Michelle wants to be a neurosurgeon. She's always studying the brain and
babbling on at me about how fascinating it is. And it really is, even if I only understand about a
quarter of what she tells me. One thing that's kinda sorta sunk in is the brain's ability to
recreate damaged pathways. After injury or surgery or a stroke, the brain can regain a great
deal of function by rewiring itself to cope with the loss of tissue. It can relearn how to walk and
talk and do math...all kinds of things. Thing is, though, it's not repairing itself. It can't. It's not
like skin or muscle or bone that can regrow. It can't undo the damage, it just learns to cope.”

“I'm gathering that you're making an analogy here. ...Who are you casting as the brain?”

“Us. The Catalysts. Twelve of us together, we're a fully functioning brain. You give yourself back
to Vaanu, that's some kind of brain damage. Over time, we all learned to cope without you.
Some better than others. We took what you gave us as we rewired our Catalyst brain and
learned to go on without you. But we were never going to stop feeling the damage. We were
never going to be as strong without you as we are with you.”

“...But if the brain can't repair itself...what am I doing back here?”

“Okay, it's not a perfect metaphor. No metaphor is perfect. Look...maybe whether or not
we need you isn't what you should be focusing on. Isn't it enough that we want you? Isn't the
fact that the universe has given you a family and a history outside of the island enough proof
that this isn't a mistake?”
She is quiet for a long time. “...Thank you, Sean.”
“Hey, I didn't say anything that wasn't true. We're your friends. We love you. ...You know, it's
because of you that I've got my career.”

“I didn't teach you to play football.”

“No, but because of you, I was able to let go of the baggage I'd built up around it. Because of
you...football became fun again. Because of you, I remembered how much I love the game. So
much of my life is better because of you. ...I wouldn't have Michelle now if it weren't for you.”

“...I don't know what was between you at the time you broke up that made you believe her friends
over her. ...But I know that when I first knew you, you were both too proud and stubborn to make
things right. Neither of you were willing to be vulnerable to each other. You were both too focused
on protecting yourselves to let your guard down.”
“I think that about sums us up at the time, yeah. That may have ultimately been what led to the
break-up in the first place. If she had let herself trust me more, she would have told me when
she found out what her sorority sisters had done. ...And if I had let myself trust her, I would
have smelled a rat sooner. But I guess we were both waiting to be betrayed.”
“It was the wrong time for you to be together. But the two of you are right for each other. You just
needed some help getting there.”

“And that's why you came to us,” I conclude. “...Hey. Your new purpose is going to reveal itself
in time. In the meantime, I hope you don't doubt how much your family loves you. ...Particularly
your husband. ...Don't make the mistake of trying to protect him if something like this is
bothering you, okay? He's gonna know when you're hiding something, and his mind is gonna
torture him with possibilities unless you're honest with him.”

“...I...”

“Trust me on that, Taylor.”

“I just don't want him thinking that I don't want to be with him. ...Even for a moment...”

“Do you trust him?”

“Yes, of course.”
“...The thought might cross his mind for a moment. That doesn't mean he'd seriously believe it.
It just means he's human. Look, we all know how hard it was after we lost you. I don't blame
you for worrying that he's going to panic if you tell him that you're worried your coming back is
a cosmic mistake. But I know him well enough to tell you with confidence that he'll want to
know if you're troubled by anything at all.”
“You're probably right.”

“The same goes for Diego.”

She chuckles. “Thanks, Sean...for staying up to talk to me.”

“I was already up. You're the one staying up. Besides, you're my friend. And I'm here if you
need someone to talk to. ...Think you can go back to sleep now?”

“Yeah. I think so. ...Love you, Sean. My love to Quinn, too, when she wakes up.”

“We all love you, too, Taylor.”

Estela

I haven't been back in Northbridge for longer than ten days before it's the night of the Prescott
Industries Masquerade, an annual event that gives Silas Prescott the opportunity to meet with
his investors. Except for the guest list it is generally ignored by Rourke International. But not
this year. With everything else surrounding Prescott Industries, we can't afford to ignore them.
Besides, it has been widely advertised that Prescott means to show off some pieces from his
'personal collection' of artifacts from his travels with his wife. There is enough of a chance that
something in that collection will be from La Huerta to warrant a look.

“Do I really have to wear this thing?” Craig whines, looking distastefully at the black leather
eyemask Zahra has laid out for him.

“It's a masquerade, Craig! Of course you have to wear a mask!”

“Yeah, but why this one?! I'm gonna look like Tuxedo Mask in this! Why couldn't I get a cool
Vaanti-style mask instead?”

“Because Rosencraft and Sons has been out of business since the twenties.” When Craig sighs
tragically and sets his face in a pout, Zahra bursts out laughing. “Relax, Craiggers! I'm totally
trolling you! That's a cheap costume-shop mask! Not the kind of thing you wear to a Prescott
Industries event! No, Grace sent proper attire for all of us. Catalyst theme. Between us, Aleister
says she went a little overboard. All twelve of us now have a masquerade ball costume based on
our Hadean zodiac sign.”

She disappears briefly into the bedroom, reappearing with three garment boxes, passing one to
me and one to Craig before sitting down and opening the third. In mine, I find an elegant gold
mask with a shape and a scale-like pattern clearly meant to invoke the face of a dragon, topped
with ornate gold horns. The evening gown is flame-colored, red-gold with a skirt that flutters. I
can't help chuckling.

“What do you think, did part of the inspiration for this come from the Katniss Everdeen
costume?”

“Probably,” Zahra concedes with a grin. “Careful when you twirl.”

“Now, see this is more what I was thinking,” Craig declares, holding up the brown-furred half-
mask that pushes forward into a bear's snout. “Whaddya got, Z?”

Zahra holds a black evening gown trimmed with feathers up to her body, and shows off the
black mask that comes with it, an ornate, abbreviated version of an old European plague mask.
She grins.

“I'm gonna look sick in this!”

“It's awfully nice of Grace to supply the outfits. But if she did actually buy twelve costumes and
masks, I have to agree she may have gone overboard. I suppose they can afford it, but I don't
know when we'll ever get use out of them after tonight.”

“Maybe she's hoping the next reunion will be masquerade-themed,” Zahra replies with a shrug.
“Heck, maybe she's pregnant again and this was a hormone-fueled shopping spree. Whatever
the reason, we need to get dressed. Showtime's in two hours and counting.”

Ninety minutes later, I am looking myself over in the full-length mirror. The dress is a perfect
fit, and the mask is ornate enough to disguise the scar over my eye, a necessity since the
distinctive mark makes me easy to recognize, and I have been in the spotlight quite a lot over
the last five years as one of Rourke International's C.E.O's, and I would not exactly be welcome
at a party for Prescott Industries' investors.

“So what's our cover story?” Craig asks, adjusting his tie.

“Here's the invitation I printed up for us.” Zahra shows him the card. “I'm Sara Ayari, a
representative of Mansingh Transglobal, and you're Kevin Lim. My plus one.”

“So, I'm arm candy?”

“Of course,” she replies affectionately, kissing the top of his head. “That's what you always are.”

“What about Estela?”

“I get to be arm candy for someone else,” I reply. Not twenty seconds later, the door buzzes.
“Well, speak of the devil. There's my date, I think.”

I follow Zahra as she goes to answer the door. Sure enough, Quinn is standing outside in a sea
green mermaid dress with a matching ocean-themed mask decorated with seashells and blue-
green feathers that look like sprays of water. The strapless gown hugs the delicate curves of her
body sensuously, and her copper hair, swept off her face in an elegant twist, gleams even in the
artificial light in the hall.

“Wow, Quinn. You look...incredible.”

“So do you,” she replies, looking me up and down approvingly. With a wink, she adds,
“...'Darling'. And please. Call me Brianna.”

She shows me the invitation. She is listed as Brianna McKenna, a representative of the Kelly
Foundation, and I am her plus-one, Remedios Mendoza.

“The story is that the Kelly Foundation is hoping to gain a sponsorship from Prescott
Industries. The Kelly family has heard about the Prescotts' devotion to philanthropy.”

“Remember, Grayson Prescott is gonna be the one to talk to about that,” Zahra says. “He's the
one who actually seems interested in bettering humankind.”

“Does it matter, if we're not actually looking for a sponsorship?” I ask. “Even if he isn't
genuinely interested, I imagine Silas Prescott will be willing to fake it. And from what Aleister
has told me, he is the one to keep our eyes on. The Prism Gate is the father's project, not the
son's.”

“It's probably smart to cover both of them, if we can,” Zahra replies. “And any superhumans
who happen to show themselves.”

“You're talking about Kenji Katsaros and Tahira Rogers.”

“Bingo. Here, Estela. Take one of the earpieces. We'll have to make like we don't know each
other while we're there, so this is gonna be the easiest way to communicate. We should make
an effort to arrive separately, too.”

“Right. Quinn and I will leave now. You two follow in say...ten minutes?”

She nods. “Take the most direct route. Craig and I will loop around so we arrive from opposite
directions. Good luck, everyone.”

***

We take Quinn's car downtown, following Zahra's instruction to take the most direct route.
Traffic gets heavier as we approach Prescott Industries.

“Do you think we're going to find anything of interest here tonight?” Quinn asks.

“I don't know. It is difficult to know where we should be looking. The only real lead we have is
Precott Industries itself. But something tells me Silas Prescott's nose isn't as clean as it appears
from the outside.”

“I think I have to agree with you there.” She glances briefly at me before turning her attention
back to the road. “Are you all right? Being back in Northbridge so soon? I'm sure you'd rather
be in San Trobida with your uncle and your young man.”
“My 'young man'?” I echo with amusement. “Why not just call him my 'beau'?”

“Was he okay with you coming back so soon?”

“Being okay with it was Hobson's choice,” I answer firmly. “I gave him no say in the matter after
all. ...I'm needed in Northbridge right now. So here I am. Besides, it's not like I'm lonely up here.
I have you and Craig and Zahra and Sean and Michelle. And possibly Aleister and Grace and
Reggie soon if they can manage to get away from London.”

“...I just wish the circumstances weren't so troubling.”

I sigh. “Me too. Even beyond worry over what the Prism Crystal and the appearance of
superhumans means for Taylor, now there's liquid prism on the streets...I wish I knew what
more we could be doing besides just spying.”

“Perhaps we'll discover that the superheroes have things in hand...”

“I trust them to handle the superhuman villains. But the fact that the crystal came from La
Huerta...the fact that it brought Taylor back...the fact that Rourke is still alive...all that has me
extremely nervous.”

“You're not the only one,” she admits.

Arriving at Prescott Industries, we turn the car over to the valet. Quinn takes my arm, and I let
her lead me inside. Our forged invitation raises no eyebrows, and we're admitted without a
second look. The grand ballroom at Prescott Industries is already crowded with masked guests
and security personnel. The space is artfully decorated, and on the dais at the back, red velvet
ropes keep the crowd a safe distance from rows of glass display cases. I'm not yet close enough
to see their contents. I slip the Anachronist earpiece into my ear.

“Hey, we're here.”

“Sweet,” Zahra replies. “We'll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

I relay this to Quinn, who nods. “We should try to mingle a little. It will help us work our way
over to the display for a better look.”

We accept flutes of champagne from the waitstaff and make small talk with a few of the guests
as we casually drift towards the dais.

“We're here,” Zahra informs me at one point. “Not a moment too soon, looks like. Prescott's about
to make a speech, I think.”

Sure enough, Silas Prescott, conspicuously unmasked, is stepping up onto the dais. He taps the
microphone on the podium. Quinn and I worm our way toward the front of the crowd as
discreetly as possible as the hum of conversation rapidly fades.
“Thank you all for joining me tonight,” Silas Prescott says with a practiced smile. “You'll have to
forgive my lack of a disguise. I didn't want our favorite DA to arrest me on sight.”

He sends a wink at DA Katsaros as the crowd chuckle. Quinn laughs politely beside me, and I
force myself to release a breath of a chuckle, willing my eyes not to roll. Prescott continues:

“In all seriousness, I can't say how relieved I am to see you safe and sound, DA Katsaros.” The
DA smiles placidly, nodding her thanks. A pensive look crosses Prescott's face. “My late wife
Helena took immense pride in the pieces we collected in our travels. It would have thrilled her
to share this collection with all of you.”

As Quinn and I finally gain a vantage point with a clear line of sight, Prescott moves to touch
one of the glass displays. As the piece inside becomes clear, I feel my blood run cold. Quinn
inhales sharply, gripping my arm painfully tight.

“Oh, my God...”

It is a small statue of gleaming amber, in the likeness of a dancing ballerina wearing a gown of
feathers. ...The Cygnus idol.

My mouth is dry. My hand trembles as I lift it to press a button on my earpiece. “...Are you
seeing what I'm seeing?” I murmur.

“You mean Grace's Catalyst idol? Yeah. Yeah, I am...”

“This one gave her particular joy,” Prescott is saying, looking down at the idol with a nostalgic
gleam in his eye. “She said it reminded her that there was more to this world than we could
ever hope to understand. And it would have seriously pissed her off if I gave a long-winded
speech. So here's to her, and to all of you. May you all find what you treasure. Now drink up.
Enjoy the evening. But remember, just because you're wearing a mask doesn't mean you can
get away with everything. Just most things.”

Everyone raises their glasses in a toast. Quinn and I meanwhile have edged away from the
crowd.

“That's not possible, is it?” Zahra whispers. “Taylor said the idols were melted when she passed
the test at the Threshold...”

“Remember where we found that one, though.” I look at Quinn. “...It was when we were first
seeking the Island's Heart. To save you. It was in a space between dimensions. We found
Grace's idol in that space. Sometime during the Three Tribes' War, Varyyn's father hid it to
keep it safe from the warring tribes. ...If we acquired Grace's idol from the past, there may have
been another version somewhere for Prescott to find.”

“...Okay. I'm gonna see if I can corner Prescott. We need to know if there might be more of the idols
out here. You two cover the heir.”
“We're on it.” I turn to Quinn. “Our task is to talk to Grayson Prescott.”

“Right. Let me do the introductions. I'm the one who's here as a representative of the Kelly
Foundation after all.”

“Of course.”

We patiently wait our turn in the crowd surrounding Prescott's crown prince. Well, Quinn
waits patiently. I wait very impatiently, huffing and tapping my foot.

“Easy, darling,” Quinn says mildly. “You're drawing attention to us.”

I grunt in annoyance, but I do make a cursory attempt at settling down. Finally, Grayson
Prescott turns his attention onto us.

“Good evening, ladies. I hope you're enjoying yourselves.”

“Oh, it's been a lovely evening so far. I just wanted to come over and introduce myself.” Quinn
smiles brightly, holding out her hand. “My name is Brianna McKenna, and this is my partner,
Remedios Mendoza. I'm here on behalf of the Kelly Foundation.”

Grayson's eyes light a little. “The same Kelly Foundation that funds research on rare genetic
illnesses?”

“The very same. Our main mission is to fund research into illnesses that are too rare to be
noticed or funded any other way. We also have a portion of funds set aside to assist patients
and their families. Especially where young children are involved.”

“A very noble cause,” he says approvingly. “Are you here to explore a possible source of funds?”

I see Quinn's mask shift slightly as she lifts an eyebrow. “Straight to the point, I see?”

Grayson has the decency to blush. “Forgive me if I seem over-eager. But as I said, I feel the
cause is a very noble one.”

“Then, you might have a mind to support it?”

“Absolutely. You must know Prescott Industries' commitment to philanthropy.”

“Yes, yes I know very well.”

I clear my throat softly, feeling my impatience return. I plaster a smile on my face. “Darling,
before you get into talking shop, I just wanted to ask...do you know much about the pieces in
your father's collection?”
“Well, I...I know a little. Why?”

“Oh, it's just a stunning collection, that's all. And I have always been fascinated by ancient
things. That piece your father pointed out in particular...the...little ballerina statue?”

He chuckles. “Well, I'm not sure it would be entirely accurate to call it a ballerina. Not sure how
many ballerinas there were in the ancient Caribbean.”

“Caribbean?”

“Yes. That particular piece comes from a small island in the Caribbean. I forget which one, I'm
afraid.”

“Do you know what it is?”

“Well, my father always assumed it was either a toy, or some kind of idol. My mother was
researching it before she died, but I don't think she ever figured out what its true purpose was.”
He turns back to Quinn, smiling. “Now, regarding a possible financial relationship between the
Kelly Foundation and Prescott Industries...”

Quinn

It's a good thing Estela remembered to ask about the idol, because for a few minutes, I almost
forget that securing a sponsorship is part of my cover story, not my actual goal. Really, there
isn't any harm in networking a little while I'm here. And Grayson actually seems genuinely
interested, so once Estela has gotten as much out of him as seems possible on that score, I
happily launch into my practiced pitch. Then someone else catches his eye, an olive-skinned
woman in a butterfly mask. The way his face lights up is difficult to mistake, so I leave him to it.
That's when I start to notice Estela's distraction. She frowns, glancing over her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“I...I don't know. I...feel like someone's watching us...”

“Let's move a little closer to the hors d'oeuvres. We'll be closer to Silas Prescott that way, and—
”

“Take this,” Estela mutters, pulling the earpiece out of her ear. Before I can react, she grasps my
wrist and presses it into my palm, curling my fingers around it. Then she turns and pushes into
the crowd.
“Wait, what?! Es—Remedios, where are you going?!” I groan, stuffing the piece into my ear.
“Hey, guys...my date just ran off into the crowd...”

“Uh...what?”

“Don't ask me why, I couldn't tell you. But I have to chase her down now. I'll check in when I've
found her.”

Of course, I know I'm not actually going to catch Estela until she's ready to be caught. The
woman runs like the wind and navigates the crowd like a trickle of water around boulders. I'm
going to tire long before she does, and in the meantime, I'll lose a good deal of ground fighting
past the crowds. Then, quite suddenly, I have an entirely new problem as every light in the
building shuts off at once, plunging me and everyone else into darkness so deep that I can't
even see my hands. A dull roar of panicked murmuring sets up around me, growing rapidly
louder.

“What the fuck?!” Zahra shrieks in my ear, making me wince.

“Zahra? What's wrong?!”

“I can't move! Well, I can, but it's like I'm stuck in slo-mo! Craig, too!”

I'm starting to feel panicky. “Estela!” I scream. “Estela, where are you!”

A sudden shaft of light at one end of the room tells me where the door is. I grope blindly
through the crowd until my hands hit a wall. Still calling for Estela, I slowly make my way along
the wall to the door.

Outside, a squad of police cars are swarming the street in front of the building, lights flashing.
DA Katsaros talks with a few of the officers in low voices. Other guests start to stumble out
around me, and that's when I see her. Estela, her flame-colored gown fluttering in the warm
night breeze, stands off to the side, staring down the street.

“Estela!” I rush over to her. “What are you doing?! Are you okay?!”

She doesn't immediately answer. Her expression is dazed, her eyes bewildered. The sound of
footsteps makes me turn. Craig and Zahra are running over to us.

“Hot damn, it feels good to move at full speed again!” Craig cries. “Who the hell drank the
Elyys'tel tree sap that they could put us into slo-mo like that?!”

“It wasn't the tree sap, doofus,” Zahra grumbles. “It was another superhuman who got their
powers from the crystal. Oh, and Estela? What the hellgot into you?! You just ran off on Quinn
without explaining yourself?!”

Estela slowly turns to look at us. Her dark eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.
“...I saw her,” she whispers. “...I saw my mother.”

Chapter 13: Andromeda's Chain

Summary:
Taylor receives an unexpected visitor.
Chapter Text

Taylor

Sickness rolls violently through my midsection. I recoil, my hands flying to my mouth. On either
side of me, Jake and Diego press in close, offering comfort and support, but they can't hold me
tightly enough to stop me from trembling at the image on the computer screen in front of me.
It's an unpolished photograph, taken with the camera on Zahra's phone, but the subject is clear.
It's the Cygnus idol. Plain as day. At the Threshold, I watched it melt into a puddle of molten
amber and blood, but here is photographic proof that it wasn't completely destroyed.

“Let's click away from that, shall we?” Jake murmurs, mercifully minimizing the image and
restoring the video chat window to the screen. Grace and Aleister share one video feed. Zahra,
Craig, Quinn, and Estela are together on the second. Raj is on a third feed, and Sean on a fourth.
Michelle is still at the hospital, but Sean has promised to fill her in. And in Riverside, Jake and I
have gathered with Varyyn and Diego in their living room.

“I...probably should have given you a little more warning,” Aleister mumbles, looking guilty. “I
apologize.”

I shake my head, swallowing against the taste of bile in my throat. “N-never mind. So...your
father's rival has one of the Catalyst idols. It...makes sense that it would be that one, considering
where we found the Cygnus idol in the last loop.”

“That's what we all thought, too,” Zahra agrees. “But...actually, Silas Prescott doesn't have it
anymore. It was stolen at the masquerade. I'm guessing whoever took it is looking to fence it.”

“Fence a Catalyst idol?” Varyyn shifts uncomfortably at the idea.

“It's not really a Catalyst idol out here, Varyyn,” I reply softly. “It's just a pretty amber statue. It
only meant anything as a clue left by the Endless to guide me to the Threshold.”

“So, you don't think it still has any powers?” Raj asks.

“The only powers the idols ever had was a psychic link between me, the Endless, and
whichever Catalyst it represented. I...suppose there is always a chance it could still give me
visions if Grace and I touched it at the same time, but it isn't as if anyone out here could make
use of it.”

“Perhaps,” Aleister concedes. “But I still don't like the idea of a Catalyst idol floating around out
there among the masses. I would rather have it back in our hands. Or return it to the Vaanti.”

“There is an uncomfortable vibe around the whole idea of some rich old white guy keeping
Vaanti artifacts for himself,” Raj agrees.

In spite of myself, I chuckle. “Even though the artifact was ultimately forged at the command of
an old white woman in a spacesuit?”

“...By a race of super-evolved humans descended from a rich white woman and her groom of
likely mixed ancestry?” Diego adds.

“Oh, knock it off. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I admit, feeling my momentary humor evaporate. “And honestly, I agree. The Endless
commissioned those idols and infused them with the blood of the people she loved most to
forge a psychic link with me so that I could protect you all. Even if the Vaanti wouldn't consider
them sacred anymore, it isn't appropriate to treat them like curiosities or toys to buy and sell.”

“Do you think we should go looking for the idol?”

That makes me pause a moment. “...Do...do you have any idea where to start?”

“Well...no...”

“And the idol isn't the only thing we discovered at the masquerade, either,” Quinn adds.

“What do you mean.”

“...You were right, Taylor,” Estela says softly. “...My mother is alive.”

A shocked silence descends, unbroken for almost a full minute. Finally Sean asks, “...Are you
sure?”

“I saw her. She was at the masquerade, and she was dressed like Flora Sullivan on her wedding
day. She lifted her mask and looked straight at me. I had her in my sight for a solid minute
before the lights went out. I managed to trail her outside, and I saw her running off down the
street, but that's where I lost her.” She pauses. “...She wasn't a hallucination. I went back the
next morning, and I found her mask in the hedge outside Prescott Industries.”

“I believe you,” I assure her. “Of course I believe you. I was actively trying to bring her back as I
gave myself back to Vaanu. But...why would she only appear now...?”
“I don't know. But I think she left the mask for me to find. ...I think she wants me to know she's
here, but for some reason, she isn't able to speak to me yet.”

“Maybe...for the time being, we should let the business with the idol lie,” I say softly. “And
concentrate on finding Olivia.”

“My mom won't be found until she wants to be found,” Estela murmurs.

“Neither will the idol, come to that,” I sigh. “But...maybe...if Grace were in Northbridge...”

“Maybe...” Grace agrees slowly. “That is...if my psychic link to the idol is still functional...”

“But...maybe I have to be there, too...”

“You think so?”

“I think she does have to be there,” Diego chimes in. “As I recall, the Canis idol ended up being
right under our noses in the Valley of Tombs. ...But in the six months I was living with the
Vaanti, I couldn't find it until Allie showed up.”

“That would make sense,” Varyyn says thoughtfully. “The psychic link was surely not between
Catalyst and idol, but between Catalyst and Endless.”

“Exactly. I expect the idols were basically like batteries that powered the psychic link.”

“And they required that the circuit be closed before they would work,” Aleister finishes.

“So...the Catalyst is...or was...the cathode and Taylor was the anode?” Grace asks.

“Something like that.”

“...I only ever got visions from the idols when I touched them at the same time as their Catalyst.”

“Lending further credence to the cathode/anode theory.”

I hesitate, shifting uncomfortably. “I...don't know how easy it's going to be for me to drop
everything and come to Northbridge...”

“That doesn't seem like it's necessary right now, does it?” Jake asks. “I mean, what do we even
do with the idol once we get our hands on it? It's actual purpose is kinda moot, isn't it?”

“Maybe, but the fact that it still exists is significant,” Aleister replies. He sighs. “Listen, Taylor.
Do not panic. Not yet. And do not drop everything and rush across America. Though...I think it
is about time I made the trip to Northbridge. It is Grace's choice whether she wants to come
alo--”
“Of course I'm coming, silly! You aren't leaving Reggie and me alone in London!”

He laughs. “Very well, my dear. How about this: Grace and I will make the arrangements and
we'll make contact when we arrive in Northbridge. Does that sound all right?”

“...I suppose,” I reply, my uncertainty surely reflected in my voice. Jake rubs my back soothingly.
In her window, I see Quinn's hand drift to the side of the screen, as if touching the computer is a
way of physically touching me.

“Hang in there, Taylor,” she says. “I know this is all scary, but we've got your back.”

“Just...promise me you won't keep anything from me. I know I'm on the other side of the
country, but...”

“We won't keep you in the dark,” Estela promises. Everyone reluctantly says their goodbyes,
and then Diego closes his laptop. For a moment, I sit numbly on the couch, processing
everything I've just learned. I rise and make my way to the balcony, slipping out into the
daylight. It's summer in southern California, and the air is typically hot and dry. Nothing like
the muggy, suffocating heat of La Huerta's tropical zone. The dry heat has its own dangers,
though. I have memories of droughts and wildfires dominating the news during the summers of
my childhood, though thankfully they never got close enough to me and Diego to shatter our
childish illusion of security. I never had that illusion in my other existence.

I hear the door open behind me. Jake wanders out to stand beside me.

“Hey...you okay?”

I don't answer immediately. I look out over the parking lot below us, beyond it to the city of
Riverside. Then as helpless fury grips me, I kick wildly at the railing around the balcony.

“Fuck!” I snarl. “Goddammit! I just want to live my life! Is that really so much to ask?!”

“There's no reason to think this gonna interfere with your life,” Jake says softly.

“No, Jake, there is every reason to think so! The Catalyst idols were supposed to have been
destroyed when I broke the cycle! The time crystals were supposed to have gone back with
Vaanu when I gave myself back! I must have been so stupid to ever believe I could come back
without something going wrong!”
“Hey!” Jake grips my shoulders firmly, turning me to face him. “Your coming back isn't what
caused this, okay? Whatever Silas Prescott's machine was designed to do, whatever happened
when he manipulated the crystal, that's what brought you back. You did your part perfectly
back on La Huerta.”

I feel my rage settle for a moment, overpowered by surprise at his words. It's not that I
expected him to tell me I caused things to go wrong, or that I did something wrong back on the
island...but I kinda expected him to protest more the idea that my coming back was anything
but a blessing.

“...Jake...”

He raises a hand to cup my cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. “...I of all people didn't
want to question it when you came back to me. I still don't want to entertain the possibility that
I might lose you again. ...But clearly Silas Prescott's meddling has had effects beyond the good
ones.”

I feel tears in my eyes. “...I just want it to be over...I just want to be safe with you...finally have
our year and a day and beyond...”

“And I still believe we're gonna get that, Princess. With everything in me. 'No land, no sea, no
one can keep apart those who are destined to be together', remember? The fact that you're in
front of me now pretty well reinforces that for me, no matter what Prescott had to do with it.”

I feel a sob bubble up in my chest and I can't choke it down. Another one follows, and I collapse
into his arms.

“I'm scared,” I whimper against his shoulder. “Jake, I'm so scared...”

“I know. I am too.”

“If Silas Prescott had been showing off the Endless' severed right arm, I wouldn't be as scared
as I am thinking that one of the Catalyst idols survived. Just the thought of seeing those visions
again...”

His arms tighten around me and he kisses the top of my head. “I doubt it's gonna be like that.
But even if it is, we're all gonna be with you this time. I mean, really with you. No hiding, right?”

I exhale, my breath shaking. “...No hiding,” I agree. “...I love you, Jake. To the stars and back, I
love you.”

“I love you to the end of everything. We're gonna be okay, Princess. We're gonna make it.”

I let him hold me. Let him calm me. I let him lead me back inside and I let Diego and Varyyn
take their turns at offering their support. It helps. But the fear doesn't entirely leave me. I don't
sleep very well that night.

The next day, Jake wakes up early as usual to go to work. I'm up less than an hour after he
leaves, showered and dressed in a leotard and tights, my hair pulled back into a tight bun. I
have just enough time for a quick breakfast before I'm off to the dance studio. I've been loading
my weekly schedule with classes, not only as a student, but as a Trainee dance teacher. It won't
be long before I'm teaching for money. Most of the same teachers I grew up with are still there,
and several of the adult students are familiar to me, former classmates I remember from before
Hartfeld who either stayed in the area, or who moved back after college.

There's another familiar face behind the reception desk when I enter the studio. Jim Roberts,
affectionately known as J-Robb to most of us here, has worked at the studio since he was a
teenager. I remember having a crush on him when I was about thirteen. He's in his mid-thirties
now. He's still handsome in a sweet, somewhat dorky way; a tall, slim beanpole of a man with
pale, freckled skin, curly strawberry-blond hair, and glasses. He's friendly and animated, and
the young dancers especially love the fact that he stands by the door at the end of class to send
everyone off with a high five.

“Goooood morning, Taylor!” he drawls as I enter the building. “You here all day again?”

“Dancer in the morning, teacher-in-training in the afternoon,” I reply, signing in.

“Enjoy yourself.”

I slip into the studio, change into my pointe shoes, and take my place at the barre. Ninety
minutes of ballet precedes a half-hour break, which is followed by a modern class. Then I have
an hour for lunch, then one more class of my own, jazz, before I get to start winding down for
the day, with two Trainee classes. Both are ballet, four- and five-year-olds first, followed by the
preteen/intermediate class.

Unfortunately, about half-way through my modern class, the air conditioning at the studio
craps out. With the day well over eighty-five degrees Fahrenheit, this becomes a major concern.
We turn the lights off, open all the windows, drag every fan out of the closets that we can find,
and take frequent water breaks, but it proves ineffective against the effects of eighteen bodies
all dancing vigorously together. By the time I get back from lunch, I'm informed that the
decision has been made to cancel classes for the afternoon. The outside doors are locked, and a
sign posted on the door. The teachers all go home, but J-Robb stays behind to call as many of
the students and parents as he can reach, and to deal with the HVAC people when they get here.
It probably isn't prudent of me, but somehow, I can't resist the lure of the empty studio.

“Hey, J-Robb, mind if I stick around and use the studio to do a little choreography? Just as long
as you're here.”

“You sure? I mean, I'm comfy enough sitting still with the fans going, but are you gonna be okay
jumping around in there?”

“It won't be as bad with just me in there. Besides, I'm mostly gonna be marking. Won't do
anything full-out that I can't handle.”

He shrugs. “If you think you'll be okay, go for it. Just stay in the first studio, okay? So I can keep
an eye on you.”

“Will do.”
I keep the lights off and the fans going, and plug my phone into the speaker system and select
an electronic trance piece; something that reminds me of Quarr'tel, but more melodic. I put it
on a loop, walk to the center of the floor, and close my eyes, letting the music seep into my
veins. For now, I'm just seeing where it takes me, marking out possible steps. I'll weave it into a
coherent pattern later.

Ultimately, where the music ends up taking me is back to Quarr'tel. I can see the lights pulsing
inside the dead tree. Anachronists surround me, swaying and flailing, throwing themselves into
the wild dance. This is the Party Before the End. A farewell party to Vaanu. To me, too. Though I
don't know if most of them realized it. I feel my steps getting faster.

Maybe some of them did. Maybe that's why some of them chose to follow Uqzhaal to Mount
Atropo. Perhaps they realized who the Endless was. What she was. Perhaps they knew that I
had to give myself back to Vaanu for it to depart. Perhaps they knew that the Endless had
resisted that fate, spent her whole existence trying to give me something better than the loss of
my own consciousness and separation from the only family I knew. Helpless anger starts to fuel
my steps now. I remember the moment when I looked across the club at Quarr'tel and saw
Uqzhaal glaring at me, his visage fearsome behind his warrior's mask. The accusations he flung
at me. I remember when we encountered the Endless at the Threshold, what he said to her
then.
“You used my people as fodder! Pawns! Caring only for your so-called Catalysts!”
And what were we to you, Uqzhaal?! The thought races to the surface of my mind
unbidden. Were we anything more than pawns when Vaanti warriors attacked us at The
Celestial? Do you have any idea how scared we were, being hunted down and cornered like
animals?! Do you have any idea what it felt like to have my best friend and brother ripped away
from me?! When he cried for me over the next six months, did you care?! Did you ever feel
remorse?! What was I to you, Uqzhaal?! A pawn! A tool! What was I to you, Vaanu?!
...My daughter.

I whip around. Somehow, I don't question the fact that I'm suddenly standing in the central
chamber of Mount Atropo, staring into a magma pool.

“Your daughter?” I practically spit the word.

Yes. My sweet, precious child.

Furious tears sting my eyes. “I don't believe you! In the end, I was nothing but a pawn to you,
same as I was to Uqzhaal!”

That isn't true. I love you.

“Then why give me that choice?!”

I didn't give you that choice, Vaanu replies sadly. I was merely the messenger. There were simply
no other options than the three paths you chose between.
“It isn't fair!”

I know, my darling. Very little is fair in the universe. It was not fair that our homeworld was lost. It
is not fair that my brother has been separated from his daughter for so long. It was not fair that
Quinn was born dying, or that Diego was lonely for so long, or that Jake was blamed for a crime of
which he was innocent, or that you were born to protect eleven people and to choose between
three terrible paths.

“I hate you! I wish I had never been born!” It's such a stupidly childish thing to say, but it feels
true in this moment, and I can't help blurting it out. Vaanu makes a sound that might be a sigh.

The last time you threw a tantrum like this, you put on a red spacesuit. It almost sounds amused.

“Fuck you,” I growl.

My daughter, its voice is gentle, but there is a command that I cannot resist. Look at me.

I whine petulantly, but I raise my eyes. Above the magma pool, Vaanu's spirit floats in front of
me, a familiarly androgenous shape. Abruptly, it begins to brighten, morphing. Just before it
becomes too bright to look at, forcing me to throw my hands up in front of my face, I see the
ghostly figure's chest broaden, the hips narrow, the Ken-doll anatomy between the legs begin
to lengthen. When the brightness fades and the spots clear from my vision, a handsome man—
thankfully clothed, in a Hawaiian shirt and bermuda shorts of all things—floats above the
magma pool. He is blue-eyed and yellow-haired, generically good-looking. And yet, something
about him is so familiar...

“...Vaanu...?” The man nods. I squint at his face. Then, my eyes widen as my gaze lands on his
mouth. ...His rosebud mouth. I gasp, my hand coming to cover my own lips. The shape is the
same, the rosebud mouth that Aunt Molly has always envied, always wondered at. “...Father...?”

Vaanu regards me achingly. And then he speaks, but not in my mind this time. “...If it were up to
me, my child...don't you think I would have given you everything you wanted? This world safe
and restored, with you in it and your friends beside you? ...Isn't that what any father wants for
his daughter? To give her the world? The thing about our kind, though...our will is a powerful
thing. Capable of making miracles.”

The heat in the central chamber is becoming oppressive. “...Va...Father...I don't understand...”

“Everything in its own time, my sweetheart.” He sighs. “I wish you had gone home with the
other dancers...”

With that, I am yanked back to the studio so violently that the sprung wood floor comes
crashing up to meet me. Nausea rolls through me. I can taste my lunch at the back of my throat
and on my tongue, now sour and flavored with acid as it spills out of me onto the floor beside
my head. Dark spots flicker through my vision as voices swim toward me through a dark,
watery fog. My pulse sings against my eardrums, my breath coming out of me in shallow gasps
as every muscle in my body seems to lock up at once in painful spasms.

“Taylor...! Taylor...!”

Jake

About mid-afternoon, I get the call from the dance studio that Taylor has passed out, and
they're taking her to the hospital. It looks like heat exhaustion, they tell me, that the air
conditioning went out in the building. I immediately get permission from her uncle to take off,
but the fact is still that I'm coming from LA, and if there's one thing I've discovered about
southern California, it's that traffic is hideous no matter what the hour. I call Diego from the car,
begging him to get to the hospital as fast as he can so Taylor won't be alone when she comes
around. Thankfully, he agrees.

I'm about halfway to Riverside when Diego calls back. I tap my phone onto speaker.

“What's the word?”

“Allie's come around. She's still kinda groggy, but they've got her core temperature down to
normal and they've got her on IV fluids. They want to run a couple tests to make sure everything is
checking out okay.”

“What everything are they checking out?”

“Making sure there wasn't any damage to internal organs.”

“Fuck...”

“Don't panic, okay? Just get here as soon as you can.”

“You say that, but something in your voice is telling me there's something to be afraid of.” When
he hesitates, I add, “Goddammit, Diego, just tell me.”

“I just wanted to get someplace a little more private,” he says with a hint of reproach. “...I
overheard the doctors saying that the state she was in seemed more severe than it should have
been for what her core temp was and how long she was in the studio. And as she was coming out
of it, she was saying something about Vaanu.”

My grip on the steering wheel tightens. “...Just make sure she knows I'm coming to her, okay?”
“I will.”

***

I finally arrive at the hospital, and they direct me to a room in the emergency department,
where my wife is lying on a bed in a hospital gown with a thin sheet draped over her legs. A
plastic IV line snakes from the crook of her arm to the bag over her head. Diego sits beside her,
gently holding her hand. She looks pale, and the roots of her hair are damp, but she turns her
gaze toward me as I enter, smiling weakly.

“Hey, Top Gun.”

I hurry to her side to take her free hand. On the arm opposite the IV, there's a taped-down piece
of gauze. “Hey, Princess. How you feeling?”

“Embarrassed, mostly. This was all my own fault.”

“What?”

“When the air conditioning went out, they sent everyone home, but I stayed behind awhile to
choreograph. I promised J-Robb I was just going to be marking, but I got a little carried away.”

I can't help frowning. “...Is that all that happened?”

She doesn't seem surprised by the question. “...Not quite. But I'll tell you the rest later.” She
sighs. “They're talking about admitting me overnight. They have my blood and my pee, but
apparently that's not enough to convince them my organs haven't totally melted.”

“Well, if they decide to keep you here, I'll stay too.”

“Let me call your aunt and uncle,” Diego says. “I'll coordinate with them to bring your car over
here from the studio so you can have it whenever they finally discharge you. ...After that, I
should let Varyyn know what's going on. He'll be worried about you.”

She smiles. “That's sweet of him. Let him know I'm okay.”

Diego doesn't smile back. “...I'm not telling him that until I know it's true.”

***

By the time Diego has finished checking in with everyone, Taylor has been admitted. The
doctor tells us everything looks fine so far, but they want to keep her under observation and
possibly run a couple more tests in the morning. Diego gets us dinner in the cafeteria, and after
securing permission to get something for Taylor too, brings it up to her room so that we can eat
together.
“Allie,” Diego says after a moment, “when I got here, you were mumbling something about
Vaanu...”

“That doesn't surprise me. I had a...vision of him before I passed out.”

I raise an eyebrow. “...Vaanu's a him now?”

“The ghost did always seem to have a flat chest,” Diego points out.

“I don't remember everything precisely about what I saw or what he said,” Taylor says. “But...I
was left with the feeling that Vaanu is my real father. I mean, in this timeline. The one where I
was born and had a childhood.”

For a moment, Diego and I are both silent. He's the one to break it. “...How...would that work
exactly?”

“He didn't exactly give me the details. But I assumed he took human form, fell in love with and
married my human mother, and then she gave birth to me. And then there was a plane crash,
and they both died. Or...she died and he went back to the stars. ...Or...” she trails off.

“...Or...?” I prompt her. She still doesn't speak. She stares at the tray in front of her, then slowly
pushes it away. Her hand is trembling. She starts to breathe faster and I feel my heart start to
race with alarm. “Taylor?”

She turns to throw herself into my arms, clutching me painfully tight. I grip her back, cradling
her head against my shoulder, rocking her gently. Diego puts a hand on her back.

“Allie, what's wrong? What's going on?”

“I...I can't...” she whimpers.

“You can't what...?”

“I can't say it...”

“Princess, whatever it is, we can face it. We can face it together. I promise.”

She is quiet for a very long time, except for the sound of her panicked breathing against my
shoulder. Her breath is hot through my shirt; her fingertips dig into the flesh of my back.

“I love you, Jake...”

“I love you, too, Taylor.”

“I love you with all my heart. I won't lose you again.”

I tighten my grip. “I ain't losing you, either. I ain't letting you lose me.”

“But Jake...my parents died in a plane crash. Over the ocean. I don't know for sure but...it does
seem possible that Vaanu has been broken again.”

Chapter 14: Gathering Storm

Summary:
On the west coast, Taylor recuperates. On the east coast, Craig welcomes his little brother to
Northbridge.

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text

Jake

I tell myself I won't cry right now. I won't break down. I won't break anything else. I won't
scream and curse. I'm gonna be reasonable about this. I'm gonna be calm. I'm gonna...oh, fuck it,
I'm gonna squeeze the breath out of my wife. I'm gonna hold her tight enough to actually
assimilate with her.

“...Fuck...” I whisper. “...Shit...no...no...”

“Allie...” Diego's voice quivers. “...You said you don't know for sure. ...How...unsure are you...?”

“I...well...pretty damn unsure to be honest...I mean, it's only a possibility that occurred to me
just now...”

“So...it's possible you're jumping to conclusions?”

“Maybe...I mean, it seems like it might be possible. ...But it's also possible for a slight headache
to be cancer...”
“So...you think the possibility is pretty slim?”

“...I...” She goes quiet for a minute. I feel her start to relax a little in my arms. “...Yeah...actually...I
do.”

“When you first came back, you told us that trying to take you back was like trying to push a
baby back into the womb. Do you still think that's true?”

She is quiet for another long moment. She adjusts herself in my embrace, curling into me, but
turning her face toward Diego. Finally, she nods.

“...Vaanu called me his daughter. He said that every father wants to give his daughter the world.
...He...he also said...” She frowns a little, concentrating. “...That the thing about our kind is that
our will is a powerful thing, capable of making miracles. I assume by 'our kind,' he means
crystal aliens. I don't even know the name of my father's species.”

“That sound pretty positive to me,” Diego remarks. “Look, I'm just going by what you've told
me, but putting everything together...I feel like the worst case scenario is that Vaanu is broken
again, but this time he's the one who sacrifices himself for your sake, like any father would. Or
he's broken again, but he can be fixed without you needing to give yourself up because you
exist fully separate from him. ...Best case scenario is that he's not broken at all, and he assumed
human form and married your human mother for the sole purpose of giving you the existence
you wanted most.”

“...It all still sounds a little too much 'if' and 'maybe' for my comfort,” I mutter.

“No...I think Diego's right.” Taylor pulls back from me gently, taking my face in her hands. “...I'm
sorry, my love. I think I scared you over a shadow. Can you forgive me?”

“Shit, Princess, you know I can forgive you anything. ...But...I'm just not fully convinced it is a
shadow.”

“But you trust me, don't you?”

“More than anything.”

“Then trust me when I tell you that I'm not leaving you. I swear it on the watery graves of my
father and mother. I'm not letting any land, sea, person, or crystal alien take me from your side
again.”

She holds my eyes with hers, and I feel myself starting to calm. There is no trace of deception in
her eyes, no sign that she's trying to hide anything to protect me. Maybe she's still scared, but
she means what she's saying. I nod slowly.

“Okay. ...I don't know entirely what this is, but we're gonna face it together. And when it's all
over, we'll still be together.”
...One way or another.

***

Visiting hours end and Diego reluctantly gets up to leave. Taylor's already nodding off, so I tear
myself away from her long enough to walk him to the elevator.

“Hey, Diego...thanks for what you did earlier. ...Talking her down. And talking me down with
her.”

He shrugs, smiling. “She's my best friend. It's the kind of thing we do for each other. ...The kind
of thing we've always done for each other.”

“...You believe the things you said, right? You believe that she's safe? That we don't have to
worry about Vaanu taking her back?”

“Jake, I'm not claiming to know anything for sure. But...yeah. I believe what I said. I believe it
because it makes sense, and because I could tell she believed it. You know, once she had a little
time to think about it.”

I shove my hands in my pockets, looking at the floor in front of me to hide the tears gathering in
my eyes. “...I can't lose her again.”

I expect him to say something like, 'you won't'. Instead, he says, “...Neither can I.” I look up at
him and see tears gleaming on his eyelashes. “...I've done okay for the past five years, and
apparently there was a timeline where I survived twenty-one years without her...but she's my
best friend, Jake. I love having her for a best friend, I love being her best friend. I never wanted
to lose her. I can't bear the thought of losing her again...”

I pull him into a tight hug before I realize I'm going to do it. He holds me back. I don't say
anything. There's nothing to say that we haven't said to each other a hundred times already.
Someone we both love was taken from us once. Now she's been brought back, and we're both
fucking terrified of losing her again. We're both ready to fight tooth and claw against anyone or
anything that's gonna try to take her. ...Problem is, we can't see where our potential enemy is
coming from. In spite of myself, I chuckle.

“...What?”

“Just...us. Here we are. Canis and Lupus. Dog and wolf with our hackles up ready to defend the
pack, but we don't even know what the hell we're barking at.”

“We just know something smells off,” he finishes with a weak smile. “...Isn't canis lupus the
scientific name for the gray wolf?”

I shrug. “Search me. ...You should go home and get some rest, pup. I'll look after our girl.”
 ***

Taylor spends the next day in the hospital. Her aunt and uncle come to visit for a few hours, but
most of the day unfortunately consists of poking and prodding and peeing in cups, to say
nothing of being manipulated like a doll while the doctors check her muscle function. By
evening, she's fighting mad, which I consider encouraging. When she irritably informs one
nurse that she is on the verge of ripping the damn IV out of her arm because the tape itches like
fuck, I know she's back in action. I make a cursory apology on her behalf to the poor put-upon
nurse, but I can't stop myself from grinning while I do.

By the time Diego comes back to check on her, early the next morning, Taylor is going
completely stir crazy. The IV is out, thank god, or else I'm afraid she actually would tear it out
herself.

“I hope you're keeping all sharp objects away from her,” Diego remarks with a smirk. “And
blunt objects. Anything she could actually damage anyone with. If it's not you or me she ends
up attacking when she finally snaps, it'll be an innocent nurse.”

“I have a feeling it's going to be you,” Taylor mutters and sticks out her tongue at him. She leans
back with a huff, crossing her arms. “Why the fuck does it all have to take so long?”

There's nothing much either Diego or I can do except try to distract her. But sometime after
lunch, the doctor comes in with a smile on his face. He hesitates a moment, looking at me and
Diego.

“Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of them,” Taylor assures him.

“Okay then. Well, the good news is that everything checks out. Your vitals are strong, CBC and
urinalysis all came back normal, kidney function looks good, no sign of muscle damage. You
should go easy on yourself for awhile, especially in this heat, but we feel confident discharging
you.”

Relief goes through us in a wave. “So, how soon can we get the hell out of here?” Taylor asks.

“Well, I've got your discharge orders right here. Is one of these gentlemen prepared to drive
you home?”

“Either of us could,” Diego says. “But that one lives with her, so it's probably easier if he does
it.”

“Then it shouldn't be more than an hour or two before you're on your way.”

Taylor groans. “Oh, come on...that long?”

The doctor chuckles. “I know, I know. There's just a lot of red tape to get through before you're
actually good to go. Plus I'm going to have the nurse schedule you a follow up appointment in
about a week. But you can go ahead and get dressed.”

“Fine. I'll take what I can get.”

She gets dressed. It takes about an hour before the doctor finally tells me that I can bring the
car around while he goes over a few final things. Diego waits with her, emerging beside her
when they wheel her into the parking garage. Before she climbs into the car with me, Diego
catches her arm and pulls her into a lingering hug, whispering into her ear. She nods. I can't
help frowning. There's something tense in his expression that concerns me. Finally, he lets her
go, and she slips into the passenger seat.

“What was that?”

“...What was what?”

“I don't know. Diego looked...worried about something.”

She shrugs. “His best friend just got out of the hospital,” she points out. “He was just telling me
to let him know when I get home safe.”

I study her for a moment. Finally, I nod. I'm not positive she's telling me everything, but it
occurs to me that this time, she may be keeping a personal secret for Diego. Besides, she looks
exhausted. My biggest concern right now is getting her home. Anything else can wait.

Michelle

“And you're sure you're okay?”

I'm stretched out on my bed, propped against a pillow with my computer in my lap. Sean is
curled up beside me, gazing over my shoulder. A chat window on my computer screen reveals
Taylor similarly posed in her bedroom in California with Jake beside her. She smiles wearily.
“I'm fine. I have to go for a follow-up next week, but according to the doctors, everything looked
okay when they discharged me.”

I sigh. “Maybe, but you talk about having visions of Vaanu and I can't help but worry what else
might be going on.”

“Believe me, you ain't alone in that worry,” Jake mutters.

Sean slips an arm around my shoulders. “Are you sure it was an actual vision? Aren't
hallucinations common with heat stroke?”

“Well, that's something else that's occurred to us,” Taylor replies, sighing. “I was planning on
doing a little bit of research into the plane crash that killed my parents. If there have been any
reports of anything strange happening in the area or anything like that.”

“It might take awhile before anyone notices anything,” Sean says. “Remember it took millions
and millions of years for Elyys'tel to grow from one half of the Island's Heart.

Taylor nods. “I guess like with everything else, we can only wait for the meaning to reveal itself.
Everything in its own time.”

I make a face. “You're awfully philosophical about this.”

“Less than you think,” she counters ruefully. “Those are the words I spoke to Vaanu on the day I
gave myself back to him.”

I shudder. “Well, in any case, you need to get some rest. Make sure you keep your electrolytes
up, and take it easy with the dancing for a little while.”

“No need to worry there,” she sighs. “My teachers aren't even letting me do more than watch
for at least a week.”

“Smart. I'd tell them they have your doctor friend's permission to make it two.”

She snorts. “Sure,” she replies sarcastically. “I'll make sure to tell them in a hurry.”

“I'm serious!” I say firmly. “You worry me. I don't like to be worried.”

“Thanks for the backup,” Jake quips, grinning ruefully. “Anyway, I know it's late for you guys, so
we should probably let you go.”

“Yeah, okay.”

We say our goodbyes and sign off. I close my laptop and lean back into Sean's embrace. He
kisses the top of my head.

“Are you okay?”

“Me? I'm fine. It's her I'm worried about. I mean...did you get the impression she was holding
something back?”
I can feel him frowning. “...Well...no. Not really. Unless she's more worried about Vaanu being
broken again than she's letting on. ...She did seem kinda wrung out, though. I'm a little
concerned about the kind of strain she's under right now.”

“Yeah...that's got me worried, too. With everything that's been going on since the Prism Gate
blew up, it's only a matter of time before something gives under the weight of it all. ...I just hope
that the something doesn't end up being Taylor.”

Craig

A week ago, we saw one of the Catalyst idols at the Prescott masquerade, and Estela might have
seen her mom. The next day, over in California, Taylor fainted in a dance studio and spent two
days in the hospital, and apparently had some weird dream about Vaanu. But I guess she's okay
now. She's okay, and as long as she is, I can't be too worried about the idol or Olivia Montoya at
the moment. I'm bouncing with excitement on the platform at the train station, peering down
the tracks for any sign of the train's headlights. Zahra laughs next to me.

“You look like you're about to take off.”

“I can't help it!” I laugh. “I haven't seen Joey since Christmas! And he's never seen Northbridge
before. I can't wait to show him our place! And where I work! And I can't wait for him to meet
everyone!”

Zahra's smile flattens a little. “...Are you sure this is really a good time to be bringing Joey here?
I mean, with liquid prism on the streets and everything, I still say it would have been better for
you to go back to Michigan for a couple weeks...”

“Okay, A.) I would've missed you. B.) This is Joey's first big trip on his own, and he's been
looking forward to this for months. C.) Are you really asking me to tell an eleven-year-old kid to
stay out of a city where there are actual superheroes? Seriously, I think Dragonness is shaping
into his first actual crush.”

“...He might end up being disappointed on that front,” Zahra sighs. “No one's seen her for days.
Talos and Minuet, sure...but the dragon lady's MIA.”

“What about her alter-ego?” I ask, lowering my voice. The platform isn't very crowded, but I
still don't want to go blabbing around that I know Dragonness' secret identity.

“I've hacked into Prescott Industries' personnel files,” Zahra whispers back. “But they can't
exactly tell me where any one employee has been for the last few days.”

“Well, maybe she's got the flu or something. ...Can superheroes get the flu?”
“Search me. But maybe you're right. Maybe we just need to give her a few days to show herself.
...And I guess in the meantime, a total of eight Catalysts in the city should be enough to keep
your little brother out of trouble.”

I feel my heart beat faster with excitement when down at the place where the tracks cross the
street, the bells start to ring and the gate flashes as it lowers.

“We're about to find out for sure!” I exclaim. “Here he comes!”

The train glides into the station, and the doors open. My kid brother comes down the steps and
hops onto the platform, dragging a rolling duffle bag behind him. He lights up when he sees me.

“Craig!”

“Joey!” My brother drops the handle of his duffle bag as I lunge at him, scooping him into a hug.
“Little man! So good to see you!”

“You too!”

Zahra grins as I put him down. “What's up, rugrat?”

Joey makes a face. “Zahra, please. I'm eleven. I'm too old to be a rugrat.”

“Oh, you're too old, huh? Are you too old for me to do this?” She lunges at him and gets him in a
headlock, ruffling his hair.

“Zahra!” he squawks indignantly. “Stop! You're gonna muss up my hair!”

“Your hair? Who are you trying to impress? Your doofy brother? Have you seen his hair lately?”

I pout, clutching my chest. “Ouch, Zahra. That hurts here.”

She lets my brother go, kissing my cheek. Joey smooths his hair and straightens his shirt.

“I think Zahra's hair looked better when it was purple,” he declares.

“Yeah? You want me to shave the sides again and do purple streaks like when I was in college?”

“Yeah! You looked like a rock star!”

Zahra laughs, playfully punching his shoulder. “Watch it, punk. I'm still a rock star.”

Joey picks up his duffle, and I sling an arm over his shoulders as we walk towards my car.

“So how was your trip, little man? Did you have fun taking the train here?”
“Yeah! Totally! I had a tiny little room all to myself, but there was also a dinner car, and Mom
got me these meal tickets so I could get whatever I wanted. And she gave me some money for
snacks, too, and I still have some candy if you guys want some.”

“Hey, that's thoughtful of you, kiddo,” Zahra says. “But we shouldn't have any right now.
Michelle actually has the night off, so Sean's mom's invited us to dinner, and knowing Tricia,
she'll have made way too much food.”

“Speaking of moms...I'll just text ours, let here know you got here safe.” I tap out a quick text as
we reach the car, and pop the trunk so Joey can put his stuff in it. “You remember my buddy
Sean, right?”

“Uh, Sean Gayle the football star?” Joey pretends to think about it. “Yeah, I kinda remember
him.”

I laugh. “Get in the car, smartass.”

He sticks out his tongue, climbing into the backseat. “Better hope I don't tell Mom you called me
that.”

I get into the driver's seat. “Buckle up, kiddo. Hope you're excited, 'cause I've got a killer couple
of weeks planned.”

***

We get Joey settled in our guest room, and then the three of us curl up on the couch to play
video games until it's time to head over to Sean's. We play the latest Ultra Bowl installment, just
because I know it's one of Joey's favorites.

“So, what are you working on now?” he asks me.

“Ahh, that is a surprise for when I take you to work with me.”

“Am I gonna get to test some video games?!”

I grin. “Maybe.” He totally is, and he totally knows he is, but I can't just come right out and say
it. I like to at least pretend it's going to be a surprise.

“I think you guys should make a game about the Northbridge superheroes.”

“Yeah?” Zahra says. “Craig tells me you're a Dragonness fan.”

“Well, yeah. Everybody is. She's awesome.”

“What about Talos and Minuet?”

“Well, they're cool, too. But Dragonness can fly!”

“That is pretty cool,” Zahra agrees. “How do you think she got her powers?”

“She's probably a mutant. Or an alien.”

“Alien, huh? I dunno. She looks pretty human to me.”

“Aliens can look human. They can wear disguises. Or maybe they already look human, they just
got extra ears under their hair or something.”

“Or extra noses,” Zahra suggests.

“Or extra mouths.”

“Extra toes?”

“Extra butts!”

Zahra grins wickedly. “Well, you know what they say about extra butts. Extra--”

“No,” I cut in quickly. “Whatever you were gonna say, Z, no. That's my kid brother you're talking
to.”

“Oh, fine. No corrupting the youth when the youth is your brother. Should we settle for getting
the youth something to eat?”

***

Sean is outside his mother's apartment building with Michelle when we arrive, talking while
Michelle sips at a can of soda. They look up and wave when they see us coming.

“Hey! It's the man of the hour!” Sean calls. “What's up, Joey?” He holds out his hand for a high
five and Joey slaps his palm.

“Not much. Just got here a little while ago.”

“What are you guys doing down here?” Zahra asks.

“Taking a little break from the chaos,” Michelle replies. “It's kind of a madhouse up there.”

“I feel a little guilty, though,” Sean admits. “We really ought to be up there helping her.”

“We've been out here for ten minutes, sweetie. Nothing's going to explode.”
“It might,” Joey says. “Maybe the oven's about to blow up right now!”

“In that case, we'd better really hurry. They're gonna need us to rescue them up there!” Before
Joey can react, Sean has him up over his shoulder, sack-of-potatoes style.

“Hey!” Joey laughs. “Craig, I'm upside-down now! Why am I upside-down?!”

“Beats me, little dude. Michelle, you're the doctor. Can you think of a medical reason why Joey
might be upside-down?”

“Hmm, nope. I think it's psychosomatic. He's not actually upside-down, he just thinks he is.”

Joey sighs, rolling his eyes. “Ugh. First your girlfriend messes with my hair, then your best
friend turns me upside-down. Why did I come here, again?”

“So you can test play the new video games your big brother is designing,” I reply, grinning.

“Oh, right. That's why.”

Michelle snorts, rolling her eyes. “Okay, in all seriousness, Sean, you need to put him down.
Imagine trying to explain to your coaches that you can't play because you hurt your back trying
to pick up an eleven-year-old kid.

“Trying and succeeding,” Sean answers a little petulantly. But he puts Joey down. “Fine. Super
Doc has spoken. But let's get upstairs.”

Tricia Gayle's apartment is swarming with Catalysts. Quinn helps in the kitchen while Aleister
sets the table and Estela and Grace play with Reggie.

“Cool!” Joey exclaims. “A baby!”

“That's Aleister and Grace's son, Reginald. We call him Reggie.” I point out Reggie's parents.
“That's Aleister, that's Grace. Oh, and the one currently holding Reggie is Aleister's sister,
Estela. And the one with the red hair in the kitchen is Quinn, and I think you've met Sean's mom
before.”

“Just once,” Tricia says. She wipes her hands on a towel and comes out of the kitchen to shake
Joey's hand.

“Can I get you something, Joey?” Sean asks. “Soda?”

“Sure. ...Can I play with the baby?”

“Joey's good with kids,” I say proudly.

“Well, come here, Joey,” Estela says. “We'll sit him on the floor and I'll show you his favorite
toys.”

Joey eagerly goes to sit on the floor with Estela. “Mom says I can start baby-sitting when I turn
thirteen. Some of the guys say that baby-sitting is a girl job, but I don't think so.”

“Quite right,” Michelle agrees. “Best babysitter I ever had as a kid was a boy.”

“Yeah?” I ask. “What was his name?”

“Tommy. He lived next door to me and my mom until I was about six. We had this little ranch
house at the time. When I was really little, I would sit on a blanket and he would pull it down
the hallway as fast as he could go without me toppling off. I called it 'Whee-blanket'.”

“There you go, Joey. That's a game you could play with the kids you babysit.”

Joey plays with Reggie until dinner is ready. Tricia serves spaghetti with garlic bread and salad,
and some kind of fancy store-bought cookies for dessert. Sean, determined to help me make my
little brother's first big trip on his own as awesome as possible, presents us with a couple of
tickets to one of the Condors' exhibition games. Overall, I'd say Joey's trip to Northbridge is off
to a great start.

Over the next few days, it only seems to get better. The Condors win their exhibition game,
which of course only makes being there better. And, as we're leaving, a commotion starts up
among the spectators. They point up towards the sky, where a familiar shape is streaking
across the moon. Joey gasps.

“Is that...?”

I grin. “Dragonness? You bet your ass it is.”

“Awesome! Where do you think she's going?”

“Probably to fight some big evil dude. Come on, buddy. We should leave her to it.”

***

“You sure you have to go to this assembly thing?”

Zahra, running a comb through her long, dark hair, sighs. “Craig, I told you. Mayor Sandoval and
DA Katsaros are going to be addressing the rise in super-powered crime, and Silas Prescott's
going to be in attendance. This is not an event that Rourke International can ignore.”

“And Aleister and Estela can't spare you?”

“I don't really want them to spare me. Not for this.” She sighs, sitting down on the edge of the
bed. “...I dunno, Craiggers. ...I kinda got a weird feeling about this.”

I frown, coming to sit beside her and put an arm around her. “...Then do you want me to call in
to work? Come with you?”

“And either leave your eleven-year-old brother on his own or bring him with us? Hell no. You
take Joey to work with you. Keep him out of trouble.”

“...If you say so.” I kiss her tenderly. “You keep out of trouble, too, okay?”

“I'll do my best.”

“Hey...I love you, Player One.”

“Love you, Player Two.”

***

Eerie, atmospheric music floats out of the computer's speakers as Joey guides the trenchcoated
detective on the screen through a dank sewer, where a putrid green mist hangs above filthy
water.

“Ugh,” the character groans. “It stinks down here!”

“Kinda wish he'd stop saying that,” Joey mutters. I chuckle.

“Think we need a few more lines of dialogue there?”

“Maybe a few. I mean, I've only heard three so far, and he keeps saying that one over and over.”
He frowns in concentration, tapping a couple buttons. “Okay, the map's lighting up. Is that a
clue or an item?”

“Keep going and find out.”

He guides the detective further into the maze of sewers, following the map rotating in the
corner of the screen. As he gets closer to the item, the map's flickering gets faster and more
intense. Finally, he reaches the item, glowing under a pile of sewage.

“Okay, detective, time to dig through some poop!” Joey declares, tapping the buttons. Naturally,
the detective's hands aren't even momentarily dirtied by the sewage as he scoops up the item.
The screen fades to black, fading into a cutscene as the detective exams the file folders.

“...I couldn't believe it,” the voiceover says. “But I knew her signature. My own partner had given
the project her stamp of approval...”
“What?!” Joey yelps as the chapter save point flickers onto the screen. “No way! I was trusting
her!”

I laugh. “Pretty good twist, huh? You wanna keep going with this one? Or you want me to show
you something else?”

“I like this one. But if you need me to test anything else...”

“We don't have anything ready for testing yet, but I've got the team's approval to show you
something really special.”

“What's that?”

“Scoot over and lemme at the computer.” When he scoots over, I close the game window and
open up a file folder containing some concept art for the game idea I'd pitched based on the
Catalysts adventures on La Huerta. It's just character sketches right now, with a few notes, but I
know Joey'll be excited to be the first person outside the team to see them. “This is just some
concept art. But we're gonna be making a new adventure game.”

“What's it about?”

“We're still working on story details, but it's about twelve kids who have to save a mystical
island from a supervillain.” I pull up the concept art for the character based on Taylor. “That's
Princess Andromeda. She's half-alien, but she doesn't know it yet. And she's got the power to
travel through time when she wears a red spacesuit.”

“Are the other guys aliens, too?”

“No, they're humans. But they all got special gifts to get them through their adventures. And
early on, they all get their own special powers. Like Urs, he turns into a bear, because his gift is
that he's super strong. Delphine can control water and make rain, Stella is very fierce and she
can turn into a dragon and breath fire, Aquila can fly...”

“I think Urs looks really cool,” he declares. I can't help grinning.

“I had a feeling you'd like him.”

On the desk beside me, my phone starts going off, shifting as it vibrates. Player One flashes on
the screen. I pick it up.

“Hey, Z, wha--”

“Craig, get out of there.”

“Huh? Get out of where?”

“Get Joey and get out of the office! Better yet, get out of Northbridge! Things are taking a really
bad turn down here, and I'm not sure how far it's gonna reach!”

Suddenly, I hear Kristy shriek, “Oh, my god!” She's standing at the window, staring down at the
street below. The rest of the team starts to crowd around her, gasping and murmuring. I hear a
sound like an explosion outside. At the exact same moment, what is probably the exact same
explosion almost blows out my phone's speaker. I hear Zahra scream, hear people screaming
around her. Then the call cuts out.

“Zahra?!...Zahra!”

Notes:
Okay, this chapter was hella fun to write, and I want Joey Hsiao to be my new son.

Chapter 15: The Destruction of Northbridge

Summary:
As Silas Prescott battles it out with Dragonness, the Northbridge Catalysts fight to survive.
Chapter Text

Estela

The ground beneath my feet rumbles ominously. One moment, I'm standing beside Aleister and
Zahra as they frantically try to reach Craig and Grace, warning them to get out of Northbridge.
The next, I'm airborne as the street suddenly throws me off with all the fury of a mechanical
bull. Screams fill the air as the stone-skinned superhuman criminal known as Stonewall
explodes out of the street, sending up a spray of broken concrete. I land hard on my back, my
blood singing against my eardrums as Stonewalls criminal lackeys spring out of the sewers and
flood the city center from nearby streets. I barely manage to scramble out of the way as the
crowd starts to panic, the rush of bodies in the city center a potentially deadly stampede.
...Where are my friends...? ...Where is my brother...?

“Aleister! Zahra!” My voice is swallowed up in the chaos. Zahra was wearing her red
jacket...there seems to be a lot of red in front of me. I just pray none of it is blood. I have to stay
calm. If I give in to the rising tide of panic all around me, I'll be lost and so will the people I love.
I will my heartbeat to slow, will my mind to focus. I weave through the crowd, ducking and
dodging, ocassionally throwing a criminal lackey over my shoulder when they get too close.
Then I see Zahra, crumpled on the ground, just inches from the edge of the crowd. I have to
reach her...have to get her out of harms way.

Every hair on my body abruptly rises as an unmistakeable energy pricks at the edge of my
consciousness. This was the energy that flooded my veins when I drank the sap from Elyys'tel's
branches. The energy that lashed off Quinn at Lake Tethys when Vaanu's spirit took over her in
the battle against Arachnid. The energy that flowed out of Taylor when the restored Heart was
returned to the crystal pillar...when Taylor herself was returned to Vaanu...this was the energy
that guided us gently off the roof as The Celestial crumbled beneath us. I just barely manage to
throw myself over Zahra as the energy spills out of the city center crashing into buildings and
skyscrapers around us, rapidly corroding them like water on stone and staining the debris
clouds an unearthly shade of purple.

“Estela!” Aleister's voice cuts through the din just as Zahra groans and stirs underneath me. My
heart leaps to my throat. “Estela! Zahra! Where are you?!”

“Aleister! We're here!”

I feel a hand grip my shoulder as I carefully lift myself off Zahra. The crowd is starting to run in
one general direction now, mostly avoiding us, but I get a few hard kicks and accidental slaps. I
sit up and find myself looking into my brother's face, gone from pale to deathly ashen with
terror.

“Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. But I think Zahra's hurt.”

Between us, we ease her into a narrow crevice, just out of the way of the rush of screaming,
panicking bodies. I turn her gently onto her back. Blood is trickling from a nasty-looking gash
that runs from the center of her forehead to her left temple. Her eyelids flutter, but she doesn't
focus on either of us.

“Damnation,” Aleister mutters. “This is bad. She needs to get to the hospital immediately. Under
normal circumstances, I wouldn't want to move her, but...”

“Normal has gone out the window,” I finish grimly. I hastily tear off my jacket and wind it
around her wound as gently as I can manage. “Help me get her onto my back. I'm going to have
to carry her.”

Between us, we get Zahra positioned, and I hoist her onto my back. As I am standing, I become
aware of a terrible groaning sound all around me. I look up, seeing the sky darken as a portion
of the building beside me starts to give way.

“Estela! Look out!”

Taylor

Alone in my aunt and uncle's house for the day, without any dance classes lined up, I have
passed a lazy morning. When the housekeeper shows up, I retreat to the terrace with a book
and a glass of lemonade so as not to be in her way. With Michelle's voice in my head, I apply
sunscreen and open the parasol before curling up in a lounge chair beside the pool to read. I
highly doubt I'll have a relapse of heat exhaustion just sitting by the pool, but if she were here,
she would scold me for not taking proper precautions regardless of how low the risk was.

The television is blaring in the rec room, mostly background noise. The housekeeper likes to
blast old '90's sitcoms while she works. I let it wash over me and sink below my threshold of
perception as I sip lemonade and lose myself in an Arthurian fantasy. I don't even feel the
headache starting to build behind my eyes until my vision starts to bend and turn colors. And
by then, I'm pretty sure it's turned into a full-blown migrane. Nausea starts to thread through
me. A cold sweat breaks out over my body as I roll off the chair and stumble towards the house.
I'm sure my aunt has some extra-strength painkillers somewhere in her bathroom.

I push open the door, and the sound from the television fills my head until I feel like it's going
to split apart. I have to turn it down...just until the painkillers kick in...after I take them...

The blare of the emergency alert signal goes through my head like an icepick. I cry out, falling
to my knees. Somehow, I manage to climb to my feet and stagger into the rec room. The
housekeeper is standing in the middle of the room, frozen solid with the remote in her hand.

“Please...” I hear myself whimper. “Please...turn the...s-sound off...”

A second or two later, there is blessed silence, and the silence brings a measure of relief, but the
television is still flickering. I carefully turn my head to observe the screen. My vision clears in
an instant. Just long enough to see the breaking news reports from the city of Northbridge.
Time energy. Flowing off of a man I recognize as Silas Prescott in bright purple arcs. Causing
destruction to the city around him. A city where I have friends...

My head is starting to throb again. It looks like a bomb went off. Terrified people stream out of
damaged buildings as the crumbling edifaces send up clouds of debris that look like something
out of Revelations. All I can imagine is my friends in the midst of the destruction. Crushed
under buildings. Choking on debris...

The housekeeper has fled the room. Ignoring the pain in my head, I stumble through the house,
frantically searching for my phone. I find it where I left it, charging on the kitchen countertop. I
thumb it on and flip through my contacts. But...who should I call? Sean? Quinn? Michelle?
Aleister? If any of them knew they were safe, they would surely let me know. And what if I call
them and it distracts them from getting to safety? I can't protect them out here, outside the
time bubble that hasn't existed since I gave myself back to Vaanu. I'm not the Endless anymore.
I can't protect them...

Before I quite realize it, I've sent a call to Jake and raised the phone to my ear. He picks up
before the ringback tone has played once.

“...Jake...” I whimper before he's had a chance to speak. “On the news...”

“I know, Princess,” he says softly. “I'm seeing it.”

“Please come home, Jake...please...I...I can't help them...I can't face this alone...”

“Taylor, listen to me.” His voice is gentle and authoritative. “I'm coming. I'm coming home to
you. But in the meantime, here's what I want you to do: call Diego. Have him come get you, or
you go straight over to him. You and Diego and Varyyn, you stay close until I can get there.”

“I haven't called anyone in Northbridge...I don't want to distract them...”

“That's smart. They won't forget to let us know as soon as they're safe.”

“Wh-what if...? What if they...?”

“There ain't anything we can do about it right now,” he says gently. “'Cept hold on tight and
pray.”

“I love you, Jake...I love you so much...”

“Love you, too, Princess. Hold on. Just hold on until I get there.”

Estela

Thunder fills my ears, floods into my head, until it's drowned out by the high-pitched whine of
tinnitus as my ears protest the assault. I close my eyes and hold my breath against the stinging,
choking cloud of debris that blooms in the wake of the collapse, pressing myself against a
remaining wall. I feel Zahra shudder on my back, coughing into my shoulder. After what seems
like an eternity, the ground settles slightly under my feet, and the ringing in my ears quiets. I
become aware of someone moaning nearby, and dare to open my eyes. By some miracle, we
were not instantly crushed. The structure collapsed around us, I-beams and support girders
and such burying us in a sort of cave, with a hole just wide enough for a person to slip through.
It will be harder carrying Zahra, but if Aleister slips through first, I think I can pass her to him,
and...wait...where is Aleister? My veins turn to ice as the moaning becomes recognizable as his
voice. I cast my eyes around the debris cave, and find him in the light that filters through cracks
in the cave wall. He's trapped, his leg pinned under a cross beam.

“Aleister!” I lie Zahra down as gently as I can manage and hurry to his side. His face is twisted
with pain, his hands in fists beside him. “Hold on! I'm going to get you out!”

“No!” he gasps. “If you move it, the whole thing might give way!”

“Do you expect me to just leave you here?!”

“I'll be fine! Zahra needs to get to the hospital now! Bring back help once you've got her there!”

“I can't get her out of this damned cave without your help!”

“I'm not going to be able to help!” he answers thickly, tears glistening in his eyes. “You can't
carry both of us. ...Maybe you should go ahead on your own...get help and bring it back for both
of us...”

“No! I can't just leave you behind!”

“You don't have to.”

The new voice makes me jump. A voice that has long faded from my memory, but which is
instantly familiar. The voice's owner is slipping through the space in the cave wall. I see my
own face reflected back at me, but older. Darker. More wrinkles, fewer scars.

“...Mom...?”

Jake

“What the hell do you mean 'no'?!” I'm sure everyone outside Rob Fisher's office can hear me,
but I'm too angry to give a crap. “This is your niece we're talking about! She needs me! Why the
hell can't I go to her?!”

“Because it's 11:30am, and I need you at work!” he snaps back. “I hired you so that you could
contribute, so that you could take care of my niece!”

“So because you want me to take care of your niece, you aren't letting me take care of your
niece?! What the hell kind of fucked up logic is that?!”

“She isn't hurt, and she isn't deathly ill. She can survive until you get home.”

“Dammit, Fisher, have you seen the news?! What's going on in Northbridge as we speak?! She
has friends there! I have friends there!”

“Your friends are not going to be helped by you blowing off the workday!”

I can feel myself quivering with rage. I can't believe I'm even hearing this. Goddamn, does this
man have even a shred of humanity I can appeal to? I lean forward, placing my hands on his
desk, letting my desperation come through.
“...What if it were your wife? Taylor's aunt? On the day my wife's mother died, if your wife had
called you at work begging you to come home because her sister was dead and she needed you
with her, would you have told her to wait until you got home? Would you have told her that her
dead sister wasn't gonna be helped by you blowing off the work day?!”

Rob narrows his eyes. “That is none of your business. You shouldn't talk about things you know
nothing about.”

“I know more than you think I know,” I growl. “I damn sure know a hell of a lot more about that
young woman you supposedly raised, and I sure as hell love her better than you ever did. I
know what she's going through right now, and I'm going home to her whether I have your
approval or not. You don't like it, fucking fire me. I don't give a crap. We don't need your
charity!”

“Jake, we came here in the same car. I have the keys, and I'm not giving them to you. Are you
planning to walk all the way back to Riverside?”

“If that's what it takes to get home to Taylor, hell yeah I will.”

I don't let him get another word in. I turn and stalk out of the office. I skip the elevator, going
for the stairs. It's only after I'm outside that I start to think seriously about how I'm going to get
home. Southern California isn't exactly big on public transportation, I've been figuring out. But
there is someone I know in LA who can probably give me some guidance. I find her in my
contacts and send the call.

“McKenzie.”

“...Bex...it's me. It's Jake.” I rush on before she can answer. No doubt my use of a childish
nickname that I haven't used in years tips her off that something's wrong. “I'm not gonna go
into details...if you're watching the news, you can probably figure it out...but I'm stuck in LA and
I need to get to Riverside fast as I can. What do you recommend?”

“...I recommend that you meet me at the precinct so I can give you the keys to my car. I'll grab
cab home after my shift.”

Craig

The fire alarms in the building start to blare overhead. Joey yelps, clapping his hands over his
ears. I don't even think. I just react, grabbing my brother by the arm and pulling him out the
door.

“Joey, come on! We gotta get outta here!”

“Craig, what's happening?!”

“I dunno, kiddo. But let's not get in its way!” I skip the elevator, rushing into the stairwell. The
building shakes around us. “Don't stop for anything! Just keep running!” I'm so thankful I work
on the second floor right now.

Once we get outside, though, I find myself freezing, looking back over my shoulder at the bright
purple flashes visible through the destroyed buildings behind ours. Time crystal energy gone
crazy. And Zahra's somewhere in the thick of it. I should go to her...I have to go to her...

Joey tugs at my arm. “Craig!” he cries fearfully. “Craig, you said to keep running! Don't stop for
anything!”

I gulp. ...Zahra told me to get out of Northbridge. If it weren't for Joey, I'd never listen. But my
brother's just a kid, and I'm responsible for him. ...I'll have to trust that Zahra can look after
herself...

“Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry, kiddo. Let's go.”

Estela

A hundred thousand questions flood my brain, rooting me to the spot for a moment. I can't
even summon the presence of mind to hug my mother when she's standing in front of me after
eleven years of me believing she was dead. Then the present situation reasserts itself in my
brain, and one question makes its way onto my tongue.

“How did you find us?”

“I had some guidance.” She nods at the opening, where a familiar spherical object is hovering
through.

“Iris!”

Aleister cranes his neck to see. “...Mother?”

“And Murphy!” I exclaim as the blue-furred fox wiggles his way into the debris cave and
scampers over to Zahra, whining as he laps at her face.

Iris' hologram flickers to life beside him. “Aleister, you're hurt!”

“We're going to get him out,” I assure her. “Can you tell us the best way to go about that without
bringing everything crashing down on us?”

“I will do my best.” Her hologram flickers out again as the drone buzzes over Aleister's leg,
observing the debris that has it trapped. I go to kneel beside Zahra.

“Zahra, can you hear me? Are you with me?”

Zahra moans, her eyelids fluttering. “...Estela...? What...what's...”

“You're hurt. You and Aleister. But we're going to get you to the hospital. I just need you to hold
on a little while longer.”

“...Craig...did he...?”

“I don't know. I don't know where he is right now. Just hold on, Zahra.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder, a protective gesture. I look up to see my mother eyeing Iris and
Aleister warily.

“...I never thought I would see my Estelita befriend Everett Rourke's son,” she murmurs in
Spanish. I feel a flare of irritation in my chest.

“You mean my half-brother?” I mutter in the same. I feel my mother's grip on my shoulder
tighten. I shake my head. “We'll discuss that later...”

Iris flickers to life again. “I believe we can safely extract Aleister. If you will allow me to guide
you.”

“Absolutely, Iris,” I agree. “Just show me how to shift it.”

Sean

Sirens and alarms are wailing all through Northbridge. The disaster downtown has cancelled
practice. My teammates and I stream out of the stadium, still in uniform, cellphones in hand as
we frantically try to reach our loved ones. I call my mother and don't get an answer. I call
Michelle to no avail. I try my mother again. This time, she picks up in a single ring.

“Sean, baby! Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Momma. Where are you?”

“I'm okay. I got Quinn and Reggie and we're headed out of the city.”

“Wait, Quinn and Reggie? What about Grace?”

“She's going to the hospital. To look for her husband.”

My heart wedges in my throat. For a moment, my relief at reaching my mother was strong
enough to overpower my fear at being unable to reach my fiancee. “The hospital...Momma, I
can't reach Michelle...”

“She's okay, sweetie. The hospital hasn't been hit.”

“Yet! I have to get her out of there!”

“Honey, don't panic. I just spoke to her. I promise you, she isn't going to be willing to leave
while people are injured and need help.”

“Maybe not,” I admit. “But I can't just leave her, either. ...Let me know when you reach some
place safe.”

“...I will, baby. I love you.”

“I love you, Momma.”

Taylor

Everything hurts. I don't know if its my own pain, my friends' pain, Vaanu's pain or what, but
it's almost literally put me under the table. I curl up on the kitchen floor, inhaling bleach from
the housekeeper's floor cleanser. I'm sure it doesn't help, but I can't summon the strength to do
anything except sob. I don't even remember if I managed to reach Diego. But then suddenly, the
front door crashes open, and I hear his voice.

“Allie! Allie, are you in here?!”

“D-Diego!” I manage to croak.

He's at my side in a moment, helping me sit up and pulling me into his arms. “It's okay, Allie. I
got you. I'm here. You're okay. You're not alone.”

His embrace sends waves of relief through me, strong enough to ease the pain. I cling to my
friend, my face pressed into his shoulder. “Did...did I call you...?” I ask weakly.
“...No. You called Varyyn. Or he felt you. He said your mind and heart were in a storm of fear
and you needed help.”

“That sounds about right,” I sniffle. “...The others...in Northbridge.”

“I know, Allie. I know.” He helps me slowly to my feet. “...Come on. Let's get you back to my
place. Not so many awkward questions there. I'll let Jake and your folks know where we are.”

Michelle

Northbridge General Hospital is one giant trainwreck. Most of the staff have never seen
anything remotely like what is currently happening downtown, and most of them are just
trying to triage as best they can as the injured start flooding through the doors. We're all in
crisis mode, fighting against our own instincts, which are screaming at us to
find our families, our loved ones. We struggle against the desire to keep one eye on the ER
lobby, watching for our own people to come through the door, or to check our phones every ten
seconds instead of focusing on the patients in front of us. Other people have the luxury of being
selfish in a crisis. I don't. I can't go chasing down Sean or Quinn or Estela or any of the other
Catalysts in Northbridge. Every patient here is somebody's Sean. Somebody's Quinn.
Somebody's Estela. Somebody's—

“Aleister! Aleister Rourke! He's my husband!”

I whip around, searching for the source of the familiar voice. I can't go chasing down the
Catalysts. But if one of them happens to show up in front of me...

“Grace!” I rush over to where Grace is pleading tearfully with the attending. Relief floods her
face when she sees me.

“Michelle!”

“Dr. Huang, I can take over from here. This is a friend of mine.” Dr. Huang nods gratefully,
taking off in a hurry back to her other patients. I put an arm around Grace. “Come with me,
okay?”

Grace nods weakly, sniffling. Her present state is enough to tell me that she doesn't know
where Aleister is. Unfortunately, I don't think I do, either. First things first, though. I have to
calm her down a little. I don't like how fast she's breathing. I flag down a nurse to bring a mild
sedative and guide Grace somewhere she can sit down. I fill a cup at the water cooler and bring
it to her.
“Sip this, Grace. And try to breathe deeply for me. In and out, nice and slow.” She does as I tell
her. When the nurse brings the pill, she swallows it carefully, washing it down with a swallow
from the cup in her hand. I keep my fingers gently on her wrist, tracking her pulse. In a minute
or two, I feel it start to slow to normal. “...Okay. Why don't you tell me what's happened. Do you
know where anyone else is?”

“...Qu-Quinn and Reggie are safe. They're with Tricia. I came back here to find Aleister, but...”
Her eyes fill with tears. “I don't think anyone's seen him...and I can't reach him on his
phone...Oh, Michelle, he was right there! He went to that assembly! He was right in the thick of
it!”

“Easy, Grace. Easy. You stay here, okay? I'm going to look around, see if he slipped in
unnoticed.”

Before Grace can respond, someone calls out to us. “Michelle! Grace!” I feel my heart leap into
my mouth as I lift my head to see Sean weaving his way over to us, leading Joey Hsiao by the
hand.

“Sean!” All semblance of professionalism and tact is cast aside as I leap up and throw myself
into his arms. “Oh, Sean, thank god!”

He drops Joey's hand, wrapping both arms around me. “Michelle...Michelle...”

As I suddenly remember that Grace is right behind me worried sick about her missing husband
and I am dressed in scrubs, I pull back. “Joey, are you okay? Where's your brother?”

“He told me to come wait here with Sean.” Joey looks like he's struggling not to cry. “He went to
find Zahra and Estela and Aleister.”

“I ran into Craig and Joey just outside. He can't reach any of them by phone, but he's heading
back toward the city center. If any of them were hurt, this is where they'd come.”

“I should go help him,” Grace declares, but I put a hand on her shoulder.

“No. I just gave you a diazepam. You need to stay here and stay calm for me. Sean, can you stay
with her? I'm going to see if I can find any of them in the ER.”

Jake

I hate California traffic! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! All these damned assholes in their Benzes
and BMWs driving like snails down the highways, keeping me from my Taylor while my friends
may be hurt or dying or dead on the other side of the country! I lay on the horn, I weave in and
out wherever I can, I speed, I somehow manage to avoid getting a ticket. I know it's not good
driving sense for me to be playing a satellite news station right now, given that it's
broadcasting the disaster in Northbridge, the showdown between Silas Prescott and
Dragonness like it's some kind of sports match. Especially because right now, Prescott seems to
be winning. But I can't make myself turn it off. It won't tell me a damn thing about my friends,
but to turn it off makes me feel blind.

I make it back to Riverside in record time, park illegally outside Diego's building, and race up to
his door, buzzing his unit insistently. I hear an answering buzz, and the click of the front door. I
yank it open and pound up the stairs. The door is already slightly ajar for me, and I push in to
find Taylor curled up on the sofa in Diego's arms. The news is playing on the television in front
of them. Varyyn gets up to close the door as I move to take over for Diego. Taylor clutches me
hard enough to hurt a little, but I can't care right now.

“I'm here, Princess. I'm here.”

“People are going to die,” she whimpers against my shoulder. “Maybe not our friends, but some
people are going to die in Northbridge because of this.”

“...We can't know that,” Diego murmurs, though he doesn't sound like he believes what he's
saying.

“No, Taylor is right,” Varyyn says softly. “It is impossible for everyone to survive this.”

His words hang in the air, a haunting echo from a long ago battle. The battle in Elyys'tel against
Cetus, when Taylor discovered her own idol in the beast's esca. I grip her tighter. My phone
starts to buzz frantically in my pocket. I would normally ignore it, but it might be one of my
friends telling me they're safe.

...It is one of my friends, but not one of the ones I'm currently concerned about. I don't know
what the hell kind of time it is in Tokyo, but Raj has apparently just gotten wind of what's
happening in Northbridge. He has opened a group text with the Catalysts.

Raj: Holy shit!!!

Raj: Every Catalyst in Northbridge, please check in!!!! Let me know you guys are all okay!!! :(

“...It's Raj. He's just figured out what's happening.”

My phone buzzes again.

Quinn: I'm okay. Reggie and I are with Tricia Gayle.

Sean: I'm at the hospital with Michelle, Grace, and Joey Hsiao. We're not hurt. Just waiting. Craig
went to look for Aleister, Estela, and Zahra.

I show the texts to Taylor. Diego, reading them on his own phone, rubs a hand over his face and
taps out a message.
Diego: Does anyone know where they were when this started?

It takes time before our phones buzz again.

Sean: They were there. They went to the assembly.

Everett Rourke

My television set is aglow with the fuschia light emanating from Silas Prescott. He has made a
serum from one of my crystals and injected it into himself. A crystal he acquired without my
knowledge or permission from my island. And now, filled with the raw liquid power of it, he is
laying ruin to Northbridge in a most savage and uncouth display as he battles with Dragonness.
I ought to be furious at the betrayal. I ought to be plotting how I might get my hands back on
the crystal, how it might be used to bring me back to the brink of my greatest accomplishment.
At the very least, I ought to be frustrated at his inability to use the crystals with the elegance
and grace they deserve. But all I am at the moment is impressed. Awed. Silas Prescott seems to
have found a way to use the crystals that I did not realize was possible. Without the Island's
Heart or the Endless, he seems to have filled himself with the very energy from which the
island was born, from which Taylor—the Endless—was fashioned like a golem from clay.

And who is this Dragonness? Is she another Endless? Another human willed into being by a
crystal being and the needs of those around her? Perhaps she and the other superhumans have
the blood of the Hostiles running through their veins somewhere in their ancestry. And where
does Taylor fit into this puzzle? Why has she been given the strength to return? What power
still lurks within her?

Silas has become a storm now. Wild, untamed like Cetus. But unlike that great legendary beast,
Silas Prescott is human. The energy of the tachyon crystal is overwhelming him turning him
into a writhing, pulsating aura of pure energy. And that is when the truth dawns on me. Or at
least, part of it.

I know Silas Prescott. I know his weaknesses. I know his strengths. I know what drives him. He
was always content to let me lead, even when we were boys. Brilliant, but not ambitious, he
gained his fortune largely through wise investments, backing the right horses, hiring the right
scientists. Even as rivals, we were friends. Until Helena's untimely demise.

Helena was his weakness. And it seems I underestimated my old friend's devotion. He is not
making himself into a weapon to destroy Northbridge or Dragonness and her friends. He is not
simply content to use the power the crystal race have left behind on Earth in either crystal or
human form.
“You clever bastard,” I murmur. “You're a portal, aren't you. And what does that make
Dragonness? ...The key? The key to the portal that will put you in their world?”

At that very moment, the black-clad superhuman grabs Silas by the hand and streaks into the
sky, vanishing into the clouds. An unnatural hush settles over the crumbling city. The
newscasters stutter and stammer as they search for the words to explain what they've seen.

“Silas Prescott, releasing massive amounts of energy after injecting as many as six vials of liquid
prism...and...now Dragonness has just taken him by the hand and flown off with him...I-I'm not
quite sure where she's gone, where she's taken him...I'm wondering if anyone can get an eye on
her? Can anyone locate Drago...”

And then he trails off as a massive explosion blooms in the sky overhead, searing fuschia light
piercing the cloudlayer to touch the ruined city below.

Diego

My living room is silent as a tomb. All four of us are already crying, but for the moment, we
don't have the breath to give voice to our grief. It isn't just that three of our friends are still
unaccounted for in that wasteland of a city on the east coast. We just watched a hero give her
life. We have seen heroes give their lives before. Like Ximeadra against Cetus, Dragonness
distracted the monster to give her people time to escape. Like Mike against Lundgren, she took
danger by the hand and dragged it away from the people she loved, even knowing that she
would be consumed. ...Like Allie...like the woman sitting beside me, when we were huddled
together on the rooftop of The Celestial...the one who was chosen by the crystals to carry their
power, created by them for all we know, gave herself back to them to protect what was
precious to her. The newscaster breaks the silence.

“...I...it...looks like it's over, folks. ...I...I don't know. There's been an explosion...I don't think
Dragonness or Silas Prescott are anywhere to be found...”

Varyyn chokes, his head falling into his hands. I put my arms around my husband, pressing my
face into his shoulder. I hear Allie and Jake shift beside me, no doubt wrapping each other up in
their arms as the tears start to flow freely. For a few minutes, all we can do is weep. Then all
three of our phones buzz at once. I sit up sharply, looking from Allie to Jake. They look back at
me with fear in their eyes. None of us wants to be the one to pick up our phones first and read
what is surely a text from the Northbridge Catalysts. The news could be good. It could be bad.
None of us want to be the first to find out. So...we find out together. We agree to it without a
word, slowly pulling out our phones together.

Sean: Everyone's accounted for. But Aleister and Zahra are hurt. We don't know exactly how bad
yet.
“Well. I suppose that's the next thing we're waiting to find out.” I rub my hands over my face.
“You two are welcome to stay as long as it takes. If that ends up being overnight, the sofa folds
out. I'm gonna order us some take-out.”

“I'm not hungry,” Allie mumbles.

“All I need is a drink,” Jake adds. Varyyn exhales slowly, shaking his head.

“No. Diego is right. We must eat. We will not help Zahra and Aleister by starving ourselves.”

I see him catch Allie's eye and hold her gaze. Finally, she nods.

“...All right.”

Michelle

I was making a second sweep of the ER when the last of the Catalysts finally staggered through
the door. Aleister was being supported between Estela and Craig, his right lower leg wrapped
in a bandage of torn cloth. Zahra was being carried on the back of a woman whom I had never
seen before. But I didn't need to have seen her to know her. Estela is the spitting image of her
mother. I should have been more interested in the fact that Olivia Montoya was standing in the
ER of the hospital where I work, but the fact that she had my friend on her back, and the fact
that my friend's head was wrapped in Estela's blood-stained jacket, seemed a more pressing
issue.

I shouted orders to nurses, orderlies, even attendings. Somehow, they all listened to me. Dr.
Garcia and one NP whisked Aleister away for X-rays, and now I have Zahra on a gurney with a
suture tray beside me. Craig sits at her other side, holding her hand. She's responsive, which is
heartening, even if she seems a little disoriented. And she doesn't seem to have lost any feeling
in her extremities. I carefully clean the wound, and change my gloves before picking up the
syringe.

“You're doing great, Zahra. I'm going to inject a local anesthetic before I stitch you up. It might
burn just a little.”

Craig grips her hand in both of his, kissing her knuckles. Tears are gleaming on his eyelashes.
Zahra gasps a little at the first pinch and burn, but she manages a weak smile at Craig.

“Hey...what're you crying for, Player Two?” she mumbles, her speech just slightly languid.

“Whaddya mean, what am I crying for? I thought I coulda lost you.”

“Bull. Like I would've ever let some crystal asshole take...” She trails off, her eyes falling shut.
Craig goes rigid with alarm.

“Zahra?!”

After a moment, her eyes flutter again. “...I hear you, Player Two. What're you crying for?” She
squeezes his hand, hissing in pain as I inject the anesthetic into another point on the wound's
perimeter. “Shit...my head is killing me...”

Craig looks at me, a fearful question in his eyes. I hold his gaze with mine a moment. “She might
have a slight concussion. We'll take her for a CT as soon as I stitch her up.”

“What if it isn't slight? What if...” he trails off, biting his lip.

“Oh, what if, what if,” Zahra sighs. “What if Mount Atropo erupts again...what if Murphy starts
breathing fire instead of ice...what if Taylor comes back? Wait...she did that already...”

Craig draws in a deep breath, gently laying a hand on the top of Zahra's head, taking care not to
get in the way of my needle. “Hey, Z? Look at me.” Zahra manages to make her eyes focus on
Craig's face. “...You're gonna be okay. You gotta be okay. I need you. I can't be Player Two
without my Player One.”

Zahra manages a crooked smile. “Damn straight.” She is quiet for a long moment as I carefully
suture the wound. Then, just as I'm pulling the final stitch tight, she murmurs, “I love you,
Craig...”

He chokes, kissing her hand. “I love you, Zahra. ...I love you...”

Jake

At nearly nine o'clock, we're still sitting in Diego's living room, watching ongoing coverage of
the events in Northbridge as we pick at cartons of cheap takeout Chinese. I nurse my second
beer. I wish I were drinking something stronger, and I wish I were drinking more of it, but the
way Taylor looked at me when I downed a glass of whiskey a few hours ago made me think she
needs me to stay relatively sober tonight. And for her, you bet your ass I'm going to. Even as the
number of confirmed fatalities climbs from four to five...from five to six...

Finally, our phones buzz on the coffee table in front of us. We freeze a moment, exchanging
anxious glances. There is a second collective buzz. We reach for our phones, which buzz one
more time before we reach them. As our phones keep buzzing, we read the incoming messages,
and I feel the tension bleeding out of us as we release a collective sigh.
Sean: The family's intact! :)
Sean: Aleister's leg is broken. Zahra has a mild concussion.
Sean: And a forehead full of stitches. But they're both going to be okay.
Raj: Holy crap, I'm so relieved!!! <3 <3 <3 <3
Quinn: Thank god!
Raj: I'm totally crying happy tears!!!! I love you guys!!!
Quinn: What Raj said. Times a thousand.

The four of us exchange hugs as we laugh with relief through floods of grateful tears. Diego taps
out a reply.

Diego: There are no words describing how relieved we are over here. Tell Aleister and Zahra to
get well soon, okay? Love from me and Taylor and Varyyn and Jake.

He puts his phone down and sighs, wiping the tears from his eyes. “The offer is still open if you
guys still want to stay the night.” He takes Taylor's hand and squeezes it. “...If you feel like you
need a little extra support tonight.”

Taylor nods quickly. “I think I do.”

“It's probably for the best,” I agree. “There may be some...awkwardness back home we'd be
better off avoiding tonight...”

Taylor looks at me sharply. “What awkwardness?”

I shake my head. “I'll explain later. It's been too much of a day to go into it now.”

If she was going to press the issue, she's distracted when our phones start buzzing again. I
glance down to read the new message.

Sean: Olivia Montoya is here. She and Iris and Murphy got Estela and Aleister and Zahra to the
hospital safely.

Even knowing Olivia was probably alive and in Northbridge, it's still a shock to think of her
sitting in the hospital waiting room with Sean and the others. I don't think any of us quite know
how to respond at first. It's Taylor who finally replies.

Taylor: Tell her thanks from the California Catalysts.

With the worst of the waiting over, fear and tension quickly gives way to exhaustion. Together,
we move the coffee table, pull out the sofa bed, and get it made up with sheets, pillows, and
blankets. For a couple minutes, we hem and haw over which couple will take the sofa bed and
which will sleep in the bedroom. In the end, I think it's supposed to be Taylor and me, but it
doesn't really matter since all four of us just end up huddled there together in the darkness,
drawing strength from each others' presence. With my wife in my arms, and her brother and
his husband beside us, I eventually float off to sleep.
I am awakened some time later by a shifting beside me. Taylor is squirming in my embrace.

“Taylor...?” I reflexively loosen my grip. She wiggles out of my arms, climbing over me and
stumbling out of bed towards the bathroom. For a moment, I just blink blearily at her
retreating form, assuming she just has to pee or something. But she turns on the light and
doesn't close the door. As the sound of violent retching and heaving registers, I come fully
awake. I sit up, throwing off the covers. Diego and Varyyn stir beside me.

“Wh...what's a...?” Diego mumbles.

“Taylor's sick,” I answer softly. “I'll take care of it. You guys go back to sleep.”

I make my way to the bathroom, where Taylor is on her knees beside the toilet, hunched over
the bowl. I kneel beside her, quietly drawing her sleep-tousled hair back from her face. She
vomits again and again, each wave of nausea going through her in a violent spasm. Sweat
breaks out all over her body, making her skin slick. It's about fifteen minutes before her
stomach is clear, long enough that I'm starting to feel worried. Finally, she reaches up with a
shaking hand and pulls the handle. The sour odor of stomach acid and half-digested Chinese
food lingers, even as she drops the lid onto the toilet seat. She sits back, trembling and weeping,
and presses into a corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Something tells me I shouldn't try to
take her into my arms right now, but I'll be damned if I'm just going to leave her. I snatch a
clean washcloth from the towel rack and saturate it with cool water from the tap, wringing it
out in the sink. Carefully, delicately enough that she could pull away if she wanted to, I turn her
face towards me and gently bathe it with the washcloth, dabbing at the tears under her eyes.

“You okay? ...You have another bad dream? Probably to be expected with all this.”

She doesn't answer immediately. She closes her eyes, drawing in one shuddering breath after
another as tears slip down her cheeks. I'm still hesitant to grab hold of her, but I lean in to kiss
her clammy forehead. Finally, she speaks, her voice a weak whisper.

“...I'm not going back. I'm never going back to being stardust or crystal, or whatever the hell I
was when I was joined with Vaanu. No matter what happens, no matter what state Vaanu is in
right now. ...I can't give myself to him again. Not ever. Because it's not just about him anymore.
Or me. Or even you or the other Catalysts. ...I have to stay here. I have to live.” She opens her
eyes, capturing my gaze with her own. Her eyes shimmer with tears. “...Jake, I'm pregnant.”

Chapter 16: Aftermath

Summary:
Northbridge struggles to rebuild after the battle while Taylor and Jake face potentially life-
changing news.
Notes:
Did this chapter take awhile? I feel like it took awhile. Which may be because it's an extra-long
one. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave comments when you're finished. I adore comments.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text

ACT XI : KITH AND KIN

Jake

It's about four in the morning and still dark outside. The bathroom in Diego's apartment still
smells faintly like vomit. I'm not sure how long I sit there, staring at my wife. My poor wife,
who's just been throwing her guts up, and whose face is still ashen, and who can probably still
taste the vomit on her tongue. I had been blotting the sweat off her forehead just a moment ago.
But now I'm frozen just about solid.

“...Jake? Say something...”

I swallow, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. She's pregnant. That's what she just told me.
My Taylor, my Princess is pregnant. My eyes shift to the toilet.

“...So...was that...?”

“Morning sickness? Probably. Though it's still early.”

“And it's...mine?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, it's Diego's. I've officially claimed him for team bisexual. Yes, it's yours,
soup-for-brains!”

“H-how long have you known?”

“For sure? Just since yesterday. ...At the hospital after I passed out, they tested my blood for it.
Just part of routine admissions testing. The doctor told me as you were bringing the car around.
It wasn't conclusive then. Just enough pregnancy hormone to recommend getting a second test
at my follow-up exam. I just got the results yesterday.”

“...So...Diego knows...?” He was with her at the time, when I was bringing the car around at the
hospital. Unless she sent him out of the room.

“He knows about the inconclusive test. Not about the positive one.” She sighs. “I told the doctor
he could speak freely in front of Diego. Had I known what he was going to say, I would have
asked for privacy. ...I think Varyyn might know, too. Psychic link and all that. He's never
intrustive, but this is probably the sort of thing that would be hard for him to miss.”
“But...when do you think this...”

“...Happened? When did I conceive? I don't really know. I had a period after we got back here,
so it probably didn't happen on the island. The doctor says I'm probably no more than four or
five weeks gone.”

I sink down against the wall, dazed. “Well. This is...a hell of a thing...”

“Yeah. Certainly wasn't what I was expecting. We probably should have been more careful
about using protection, but I guess with things being what they were on La Huerta, we never
really got in the habit with each other.” She swallows hard. “...What should we do? I...know
we've never really talked about whether we actually want kids.”

I swallow hard. “...Princess...if you don't want it, we don't have to keep it. I won't beg or try to
guilt you or anything.”

“That's not what I'm saying, Jake. I do want it, actually. That is...I never felt the overwhelming
need for motherhood, but I've never been against it, either. And...even if the timing isn't perfect,
knowing I'm carrying your baby...” She bites her lip. “...Do you want it?”

“Well, yeah. Shit, Princess, I love kids. Surprising as it may seem, up until shit went south in the
Navy, I'd had a head full of idealistic dreams of a future with a partner and kids...”

“That...actually makes perfect sense, to be honest.”

“I mean, the right partner didn't come along until I met you...the one who could actually make
me feel like it was safe to settle down and stop running. And...like you said, the timing isn't
perfect right now...but that ain't ever stopped life from happening, and I don't exactly feel like
waiting for anything with you.”

“...'Waiting' hasn't ever exactly been our style, has it?” she says wryly. “I don't really feel like I
can start now.”

I turn to look at her. “So...are...are we doing this? Are we actually having a baby?”

“Well...I'm pregnant. And...if all goes well...then, yes, Jake. ...We're going to have a baby.”

Estela

Except for Quinn, safe and sound outside the city limits with Tricia and Reggie, the Northbridge
Catalysts spend the night at the hospital. Craig and Grace doze at the bedsides of their
respective partners. Michelle catches what little sleep she can get in the on-call room.
Meanwhile, Sean and I set up camp with Joey and my mother in the ER waiting room. At least
this one seems to have been designed with anxious family members in mind, as there are at
least a few long sectional sofas we can stretch out on. Sean and I sleep in shifts, the habits we
picked up on the island kicking in while we're still in crisis mode.

It's about six in the morning when Michelle wanders back into the waiting room, her eyes
shadowed with exhaustion. I gently shake Sean awake as she collapses onto the couch beside
him. He sits up, blinking blearily.

“Michelle...” He scoots over to clumsily brush his lips against her cheek. “Hey...what's the
word?”

“I'm finally off. And now I'm planning to go home, take a shower, and catch a few hours of sleep
in my own bed. ...Provided everything is still there.”

“It should be,” I sigh. “The reports are saying the damage was mostly confined to the city
center.”

“That makes sense. ...If it were any further out, I think the death toll would have been higher.”

Sean's face falls. “How many, in the end...?”

“Not including Silas Prescott or Dragonness themselves...eight. Which is low for the amount of
damage that was done.”

“So, ten altogether,” he concludes grimly. “Too many. Way too many people dead because of
Prescott's ego.”

For a moment, we're all silent. Then Michelle asks, “Do either of you want to come with me? I
can't convince either Grace or Craig to go home yet, but Aleister and Zahra are in good hands
here, and there's no need for you guys to hang around.”

“Yeah, I'll come with you,” Sean agrees.

“I'll stay here awhile longer,” I murmur. I glance over at my mother, now awake and sitting up,
watching me. I should talk to her, now that things have settle down. Sean shakes Joey awake.

“Hey, buddy. Michelle and I are gonna go home for a little while. You want to come with us? Get
some breakfast? Or do you want us to take you to your brother before we go?”

“I'm gonna stay with my brother,” Joey answers promptly. “...But...I am hungry.”

“How about this? My mom and I will take you to see where your brother is, and then we can all
get breakfast together in the cafeteria?”
With the plan agreed upon, Michelle and Sean head out, while my mother and I walk Joey to
where Craig is still at Zahra's bedside. She's still asleep, though, and Craig is determined to be
there when she wakes up. Joey hesitates, but eventually decides to wait with his brother,
trusting us to bring him something edible from the cafeteria. I am privately relieved at his
choice. I don't think he speaks Spanish, so it isn't as if he would understand anything my
mother and I said to each other, but I also don't want to have a private conversation with him
sitting right there.

Of course, once we are sitting in the cafeteria with cups of bitter coffee and stale muffins in
front of us, conversation takes awhile to get going. My mother is the first to break the silence.

“...You have grown so beautiful, Estelita...”

I feel my throat getting tight. “...You look just how I remember you. ...Just how you were eleven
years ago...Mom...what happened? I thought you were dead. I saw Lila shoot you...”

Mom looks sharply at me, her expression alarmed. “You saw that?”

“The recording you made with the hidden camera at Elysian Lodge. I found it six years later.”

“Then...it all happened.”

“What I am curious about is what happened afterwards.”

“The truth is that I don't entirely know. One moment, I felt myself dying. The next, I was waking
up in a mental hospital in Santo Domingo, learning that it has been eleven years since I thought
my best friend had murdered me, and five years since they found me wandering the beach in a
fugue state. Not only that, but my daughter has apparently been a co-owner of Rourke
International for as long as I was in that hospital...”

I look down into my coffee cup. “A lot can happen in eleven years.”

Haltingly, I tell her everything. My quest for revenge. Six years fighting for San Trobida.
Transferring to Hartfeld. Winning the trip to La Huerta. Everything that happened there. The
terror. The hardships. The wonderful friends...the wonderful family I made for myself. And how
the most wonderful of them all was Taylor. The Omega Specimen. The Endless. How she gave
up her existence to save everything. How she found her way back when the Prism Gate failed.

“I think that's how you were brought back. She did the same with her husband's best friend.
She told me she tried to plead for you, too. I suppose it worked, though somehow it took five
years to bring you back fully.”

“Perhaps because I had been dead longer.”

“Perhaps.” I raise my eyes to her face. “Are you disappointed in me? For taking my place as
Rourke's heir? I did it for my brother's sake, not my father's.”
“It is very strange to hear you refer to either of them like that,” she answers, a soft edge in her
voice.

In spite of myself, I smirk mirthlessly. “You're the one who slept with the man.”

My mother chokes at that, blushing. “Touché.”

“Speaking of which, how did that happen? You and Everett Rourke of all people?”

“...Is it really that surprising? That a young, handsome, wealthy, powerful genius could capture
and hold a young woman's attention?”

“But you're not some starry-eyed schoolgirl, Mother. You're strong-willed, capable,
intelligent...”

“I'm also a human being with a sex drive, which makes me as likely as any other human being
with a sex drive to make certain mistakes.”

“He was married!” What she is saying makes perfect sense, of course, but a part of me still
cannot accept what I'm hearing. I don't know what I expect her to say. I know it would only
horrify me more if I believed Rourke had coerced her into bed with him. ...Perhaps a part of me
is hoping she'll say that she seduced him, though to what purpose, I couldn't imagine.

“He wasn't married at the time, Estelita. He was engaged to Imogen, yes. But he told me that
theirs was an open relationship, and as infatuated as I was, I let myself believe it. By the time I
woke up to reality, I was pregnant, and Imogen was his wife. ...And quite possibly pregnant
herself by then. So I fled. Back to San Trobida, to your tio. You already know I went back to
work for Rourke later. I never told him about you. That is, I told him I had a child, but I never
told him you were his. I even gave your birthdate as six months later than it was so that the
timing wouldn't match up.”

“...And that is why he believed my birthday was in January...” I murmur. “...But he must have
suspected, because Draco was placed correctly in his password...”

“...What?”

“The password. To his computer. Remember, that's how we found him in the stasis tube.”

“Ahh. Of course.”

I am silent for a moment. “...You were right to hide me from my father,” I admit. “Growing up, I
never felt the need to know who my father was, and I am glad he never got his claws into me. ...I
only wish my brother could have had the same protection.”

“Estelita, that boy was not conceived as you were. He--”

“I know. He is a clone. That doesn't make him a copy. He is a good man, and I will not hear
otherwise from someone who doesn't know him as I do. He...Joey, what are you doing here?” I
abruptly switch back to English as I notice Joey hovering beside our table, watching us
curiously. He shrugs.

“I'm hungry. I got tired of waiting. Zahra's awake, by the way.”

Taylor

When I'm sure that I'm not going to be sick again, Jake and I make our way back to the sofa bed.
Varyyn and Diego are sitting up, watching us anxiously. Knowing they're not likely to get back
to sleep without some measure of reassurance, I confirm the test results I received yesterday.

“Are you planning to keep it?” Diego asks.

“Provided there is something to keep, yes. I'm not going to be able to start making plans until I
know there's a beating heart.”

“When will you know that?” Varyyn asks curiously.

“Two weeks. That's when I'll get my first ultrasound.”

“Remember when Grace was pregnant with Reggie?” Diego says. “And she showed us those
ultrasound pictures?”

“Ahh, yes. The doctor will use a machine to make a picture of your child in the womb, correct?”

“That's right. But...as early as it is, there's not a heartbeat to find at this point. All I know is that
the chemicals in my blood and urine indicate that I'm pregnant. ...For all I know, I've already
lost it, and I just haven't started bleeding yet...”

Now that I've put it bluntly, the thought immediately fills me with a sorrow that aches to the
marrow of my bones. Telling myself that it might just be a so-called chemical pregnancy is one
thing. But to think that I may have conceived and lost a child without even knowing... Jake puts
his arms around me, kissing my hair.

“We won't make plans yet,” he promises.

“Don't even let on to the other Catalysts yet,” I insist. “Not until there's a heartbeat.”

“What about your folks?”

“Same rule. Not a word for at least two weeks.” I nestle into his arms. “By the way, what was
that awkwardness you were warning me about yesterday?”

He sighs, kissing the top of my head. “I...may have given your uncle permission to fire me when
he didn't want to let me leave.”

It's my turn to sigh. “...Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before the two of you butted
heads.”

“...Should I be annoyed that that's your reaction?”

“All I mean is that I know you and I know him. He's a control freak, and you're a stubborn
hothead like me. Ask Diego how many times I was either kicked out or ran away as a teenager.”

“It's true,” Diego confirms. “My parents just kind of got used to her randomly staying over for a
night. It never lasted longer than that. ...And once...well...once I got kicked out, Allie and her
uncle were much more careful about not letting it come to that since Allie didn't have a ready
retreat anymore.”

“Aunt Molly can usually talk Uncle Rob around. It might not be as bad as you fear.”

A few hours later, it seems we're going to get the opportunity to see exactly how bad it will be.
My phone buzzes with a text from Aunt Molly.

Aunt Molly: Are you still @ Diego's? Please come home. We need to talk. <3

I show the text to Jake. “The heart's a good sign.”

“I hope you're right. ...I guess we should be going.”

“Let us know how it goes,” Diego says.

There's a parking ticket under the windshield of the car Jake drove here when we get outside.
He plucks it off, sighing.

“I'll have to pay this quick...this is my sister's car.” He sighs, opening the door for me.
“...Heh...I'm becoming a father already...worrying about money.”

“No making plans yet, remember?”

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He gets into the driver's seat and starts up the car. As he puts his hand to
the gear shift, I cover his hand with mine.

“...I love you, Jake.”

He pauses, turning towards me. Leaning over, he kisses me gently. “...I love you, Taylor. You
mean the world to me. Whatever happens, we can face it if we're together.”

I nod, and he settles back into the driver's seat. We're silent on the short trip back to my
childhood home, but as we make our way to the door, he keeps his fingers twined with mine.
Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob are waiting for us in the kitchen when we arrive, steaming cups off
coffee waiting for us. I hesitate before sitting down.

“...Don't you two have to work today?”

“We called in well,” Aunt Molly informs me. “Please sit down.”

We reluctantly do, joining hands again as soon as we are settled. Aunt Molly gestures to the
coffee invitingly, but I shake my head.

“I don't want any.”

She doesn't press me. “...Have you had any word from your friends in Northbridge?”

“...They're all safe,” I inform her. “Relatively, anyway. Aleister's got a broken leg and Zahra has a
concussion. But they should be all right.”

“I am very glad to hear it.”

There is a long stretch of silence, long enough that I start to wonder what it is they actually
wanted to talk about. Finally, Uncle Rob clears his throat.

“Listen, Jake...I never actually fired you. So, in light of the circumstances, what if we just agreed
to pretend yesterday never happened?”

“...That...would be generous of you, sir. Thank you.”

“However, there is something my wife and I would like in exchange.”

Jake leans back, crossing his arms as he casts a wary eye over my aunt and uncle. “...I'm
listening.”

To my surprise, though, they pin their eyes on me. “Taylor,” Aunt Molly says, “I have made you
an appointment with a therapist on the 27th. I would like you to keep it.”

I feel my heart start to race. I grope for Jake's hand. His fingers curl around mine and squeeze.
“I...I have another appointment that day already...”

Aunt Molly raises an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yes. ...Just another follow-up. You know, for the heat exhaustion.” That's a lie, of course. The
appointment I'm talking about is with an obstetrician. To see if in fact there is something
growing in my uterus.

“It seems a little excessive...”

“Well...you know. They want to be sure...”

“What time is that appointment?”

“Two in the afternoon.” I pray to God this therapist appointment is scheduled around the same
time. Or at least close enough to prevent me from doing both. But Aunt Molly relaxes at my
answer.

“Oh, there's no trouble there, then. I made the appointment for 10am.”

My heart sinks. Anxiety turns to anger in my throat. “So...what...you're going to hold Jake's job
captive in exchange for my seeing a therapist? About what?”

“Taylor, don't be dramatic. I'm asking that you keep one appointment. You've been through a
great deal of trauma. And you have to see that it's not reasonable for your uncle to employ
someone who is going to take off at the drop of a hat every time you call.”

I feel my cheeks burn with humiliation. Jake's grip on my hand is painfully tight.

“Okay, first of all,” he growls, “this was not 'the drop of a hat.' This was a major disaster
affecting people we both know and love. And second, you make it sound like this is happening
all the time, when the only other time it's happened, it happened because she was physically
sick from heatstroke! She isn't some clingy, fragile broken bird, for all you both seem to think
she is! If she's calling me for help, it's because she needs help!”

Aunt Molly raises an eyebrow. “...I think she can speak for herself, Jake.”

We both go silent. We can sense that if we persist in arguing, they're both going to back us into
a corner. We're already caught between a rock and a hard place. I can't be honest with any
therapist. I just can't. I'm terrified that putting me in front of one would tempt me to say things
that could put me, my friends, or the Vaanti in danger. ...But Jake's job may be on the line. And
with the possibility of a baby on the way, how can we be cavalier? My trust fund won't last
forever. Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob won't want a baby in the house, which means we'll need to
find someplace to live. I squeeze my husband's hand.

“...One session.”

Sean
When the doorbell rings, I'm quick to hit the buzzer, but I don't wait for my guest to come up
the stairs. I rush down three flights of stairs to meet him.

“Raj!”

“Sean!” We embrace, gripping each other firmly. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you!”

“Ditto, man.” I pull back. “How's Zahra?”

There has been some shuffling over the past few days as we and the rest of Northbridge have
started to recover from the disaster. Raj insisted on flying in from Tokyo to help, which none of
us had any problem with. He would have been content to stay in a hotel, but following the
example of the Mad Hatter's tea party with a dash of human Tetris for inspiration, we managed
to squeeze everyone in. Michelle and I are currently staying at my mother's apartment, while
Grace and Aleister are in our room so that Quinn can help with Reggie while Aleister is laid up,
and Raj is on Craig and Zahra's couch, with Joey in their guest room. Meanwhile, Olivia Montoya
has apparently been living in an apartment in the Bayside neighborhood, so Estela has set
herself up there.

“She's still pretty groggy. But she's home now, and I think that helps. Still, I'm not looking
forward to when she comes around enough to realize that she has to limit her computer and
video game time for a few weeks.”

“She does?”

“Yeah. She's supposed to get...how'd they put it...'physical and cognitive rest'. Limit cognitive
stimulation. I think computer and video games definitely count.”

“Wow. That sounds...incredibly boring. Poor Zahra.” I sigh, turning to lead Raj up the stairs.
“...How's Joey holding up? He's so young to have gone through something like this...”

“He's putting on a brave face, but he's being pretty clingy with Craig. I think seeing Zahra hurt
and knowing it could have been his brother is pretty scary. ...How are you holding up, Sean?”

I pause, looking back over my shoulder. “Me? I'm fine. I'm just glad everyone's okay.” I can't
help but notice that Raj looks skeptical. “...I mean...yeah, I'm still kinda shaken, but that's kinda
to be expected, right?”

“Of course. But it's still okay to talk about it.”

I shrug, turning my attention back to climbing the stairs. “...Michelle and I tried to convince my
mom to let you make dinner, but you know how she feels about guests doing the cooking.”
“I know, I know. It's supposed to be the host's job to provide food. But she is actually providing
the food. I'm just the one cooking it.”

“And we told her that. But I think she still considers cooking to be something the host does
while the guests relax. I think we may have argued her down to accepting a supervisory role.”

He chuckles. “I'll take what I can get.”

***

Momma does end up letting Raj make dinner. Knowing how much he enjoys cooking makes it
easier for her to accept it. But she does insist on doing the dishes. I go to help her while
Michelle and Raj kick back in the living room. As we scrape plates, load the dishwasher, and
scrub the larger pots and pans, my mind starts to wander, back to La Huerta, back to the night
at The Celestial when Raj threw us a feast so we'd stop fighting. Well...mainly so that Jake and I
would stop fighting. The others were mostly just choosing sides.

That night, Taylor and I had loaded the dishwasher together, just the two of us. I had memories
of her then. Or what I thought were memories, of a golden-haired young woman showing off
her gymnastics prowess on the bleachers of Hartfeld Stadium in the hour before a game. I know
now that any memories I had then were part of the Endless' elaborate illusion, built up loop
after loop to keep Taylor naive until she passed the test at the Threshold and broke the cycle.
...Now those very same memories still linger. But this time, they're real.

“Penny for your thoughts?” My mother's voice breaks into my reverie.

“Oh...nothing important.” After the briefest hesitation, I say, “I was thinking about my friend
Taylor. ...You know, the one we thought we'd lost on the island?”

“Of course, I know. It was all over the news for weeks after you all brought her home. How is
she doing?”

“...It's...been a difficult couple of months for her. But she has Jake and Diego looking after her in
California. Actually, it's kinda silly...I was thinking about a time when she and I did the dishes
together after Raj threw a feast. ...It was...in the first days after we got to The Celestial. Before
Rourke found us, and before we knew what had happened to the guests...” I shake my head with
a rueful laugh. “I honestly don't know why it popped into my head.”

Momma smiles. “Sometimes, silly little moments like that just make themselves remembered.
Just the other day, out of nowhere, I remembered a time when you were four or five...it was
autumn, and we were living in that house with those great big ash trees. You were collecting
helicopter seed pods from the backyard, opening them up, and dropping the seeds in a pail of
water. You said you were making stew for dinner, and the little green seeds were 'porky
beans'.”

I laugh. “God, I was obnoxiously cute. How did you stand me?”
“It was a trial at times,” she replies, grinning.

I am quiet for a moment. “...I had a massive crush on Taylor in the early days.” It's the first time
I've said it out loud like that. It's not like it's a secret. The Catalysts all know it. Michelle knew it
almost immediately. I went so far as to ask her out for heaven's sake. But I never actually just
came out and said it. I'm not really sure why I'm saying it now. Momma raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I mean, Michelle and I were broken up at the time...”

Momma studies me for a long moment. Finally, she turns back to the pot she's scrubbing. “This
girl must be pretty special if she caught your attention at all. You have always had very
discerning tastes.”

“Yeah. ...She is special. One of my best friends.”

“But she's not like Michelle.”

I feel a smile playing around my mouth, something soft and romantic. “...No...not like Michelle.
Michelle is...strong and passionate and smart and fierce and generous and kind...and I guess
Taylor is all those things, too...”

“...But Michelle is all those things in a way that fits with you.”

“Yeah. ...Michelle brings out the best in me. She makes me better.”

Of course, Taylor did that, too. It's what she was born for, created for. To make the eleven of us
better. It's part of why I was so drawn to her at the start, the subconscious memories of two-
thousand plus time loops, intuitive understanding of what she was. I was still smitten with her
when I realized that she had fallen for Jake. Even as I backed off, even as the initial resentment
faded, I still wished to be the one she looked at so lovingly. Even as I began to respect and even
like and care about Jake, I would still spend hours at night trying to puzzle out why the two of
them seemed to fit so well when I knew that she and I would have been a disaster as a couple.

I find myself thinking about this for days after Raj's visit. One evening after practice, I wander
to the city center, where clean-up crews are just finishing up for the day. It's likely going to be
weeks before the debris is completely cleared. It will be months or even years before the scars
stop showing, before the damaged skyscrapers are repaired or replaced.

I can't help but remember passing through the Lernean Gate to find Hartfeld a fiery hellscape.
The despair that flooded me when I recognized my mother's apartment building, when I ran up
to her unit to find it had been destroyed just like the rest of the world. Taylor had been the one
to follow me then. I remember the way the lava's blood-colored light gleamed in her golden
hair and reflected off the amber armor of Andromeda.
We'll fix this, she promised me. We'll find a way.

And I believed her. The world was in hell, but she was an avenging angel. She could make me
look at the end of the world and still believe everything would work out. It was terrifying to
trust her that much. For years, I believed I had to carry the weight of the world on my
shoulders. I tried to be the hero, to protect everyone around me, to take on everyone's burdens
myself. I had convinced myself it was a strength, or at least a virtue. But on the island, I was
completely out of my depth. Jake and Estela, true fighters who had both experienced real battle,
were a little more prepared, but even they found themselves taken by surprise. Only Taylor
seemed to have what it took to lead everyone. A part of me was frustrated to no end, but I told
myself to watch her. Learn from her. Figure out why everyone—myself included—trusted her
more than they trusted me or anyone else.

Then, underneath the temple where we reunited with Zahra, we met the Endless. And the
Endless lifted her helmet and revealed Taylor's aged face. Taylor revealed what terrible visions
she had been seeing in the Catalyst idols, and how the Endless had manipulated the Vaanti for
hundreds of years just to keep the eleven of us alive.

The horror of that moment was manifold. I hadn't really seen the strain that Taylor was under.
Maybe I hadn't let myself see it. Maybe it would have been too obvious an indictment of my
own hero complex. Diego had seen, obviously. Jake probably had too. But somehow I'd missed
the fact that Taylor was starting to buckle under the stress of watching everyone she loved die.
With that came the certain realization that it wasn't Taylor's leadership skills that we were all
placing our trust in, but the fact that somewhere deep in our hearts, we all knew that
everything depended on her. We could all play our parts, but in the end, our role was to bring
her to the rooftop of The Celestial. She touched us all, and we grew under her nurture, and
were made better. But in the end, the fate of the world rested on her shoulders. Billions of lives
in her hands. Lives that an alternate version of herself was all too willing to sacrifice for the
sake of building a paradise for the twelve of us.

Strictly speaking, our Taylor was never the Endless. The Endless was formed when the first
Taylor, left alone and grieving for the rest of us, learned her own origins in her search for a way
to bring us back. But everything the Endless was and had the potential to be still exists inside
our Taylor. Even this incarnation. That potential for ruthlessness is still in her. I don't imagine
the Endless made the decision lightly to travel back in time and make herself a god to the
Vaanti. I imagine it took upwards of a dozen times of standing by and watching them slaughter
us before she decided that was the only way. But she made that call. She made that call, and
then she encouraged her alternate self to give up the rest of the world.

I don't blame Taylor for any of it. I don't even really blame the Endless. Even in this timeline,
where Taylor is a human woman with a past outside of La Huerta, I know she and I could never
have worked as lovers. There is a wildness in her that I could not have hoped to keep up with,
but which Jake can easily match. And I know she would have surely felt stifled by me in the end.
Michelle is patient with my flaws, even if it doesn't seem like it, and grounded enough to be my
support without letting me crush her. But ultimately, it took Taylor's sacrifice for me to let go of
my infatuation enough that I could turn around and see that my true love was right beside me.
I cannot be alone. I need friends. Family. I need to let them share my burdens. Because in
Taylor, in the Endless, I saw true loneliness. Whether as Taylor or the Endless, she truly was
the one with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and I saw how it destroyed her. Even
when she made the most noble choice, giving her existence to give us everything, it left scars.
Jake almost destroyed himself in his grief. I couldn't ignore anymore the way my need to bear
all the burdens could hurt the very people I was trying to protect. As the Endless, she shattered
my worldview, my belief in black-and-white morality, the unflinching, arrogant righteousness
that had led me to reject Michelle in the first place.

I jump when I feel an arm hook through mine. Somehow, Michelle has materialized beside me
without my noticing. She lays her head on my shoulder.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you.”

I bend to kiss the top of her head. “The startle was worth it to have you beside me.”

“How romantic,” she chuckles. “...What are you doing way out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I was looking for you, of course. ...I kinda had a weird feeling you'd be here.”

I am quiet for a moment. Abruptly, I turn and pull her into my arms. I want to feel her pressed
against me. I want her in my arms and I want her arms around me. She obliges, gripping me
firmly.

“God, Michelle, what the hell are you still doing with me?”

“With you? I love you, Sean. Isn't that good enough for you?”

“After the way I treated you...”

“Hey.” She pulls back, bringing one hand up to cup my cheek. “That was a long time ago. We've
both grown a lot since then. I forgave you a long time ago. Besides...it wasn't like I was exactly
girlfriend of the year back then, either.”

“You weren't perfect,” I concede. “But that doesn't excuse the way I treated you.”

“Once again, though, we've both grown since then.” She grins. “Come on, I don't hear you
wondering why Craig and Zahra are still together. And we both know they were an absolute
trainwreck together the first time they tried being a couple.”

I sigh, shaking my head, but I can't hold back a rueful smile. “True.” I draw her against me again.
“...I love you, Michelle. I swear I'll never walk away from you again.”
“And I'll never watch you go without a fight.” For a moment, we just hold each other. Then, she
says, “...You may not remember...but today was my last day as an intern. I start my residency
tomorrow.”

“That's right. ...I was going to take you to Cormier's to celebrate. I still could, right? I don't think
it was damaged in the fight...”

“No, it's still in one piece. ...But honestly, I'm exhausted, and I have something else in mind.”

“Well, you name it. It's your special day.”

“Let's go home. We'll stop on the way for a nice bottle of wine. We'll put on our pajamas, order
take out...and finally settle a date for the wedding.”

“Really? You're ready to name the date we'll become husband and wife?”

She smiles at me. “I've gotten used to being called Dr. Nguyen. But I'm ready to be Dr. Gayle.”

I laugh, kissing her forehead. “Well, then. Let's get ourselves a bottle of wine and go home to
toast the future Mr. and Dr. Gayle.”

Taylor

They're dead. They're all dead. My friends are all dead at the hands of a race I can't begin to
fathom, fearsome creatures with skin of blue and green who speak in a tongue I can't understand.
They descended on us like a pack of wolves, and immediately began tearing us to pieces. ...Only
two of us are alive now, cowering in a cave in the face of Mount Atropo. I clasp Quinn firmly in my
arms, cradling her head against my breast. She holds me back, her breath hot as it filters through
the fabric of my shirt to warm my skin. Something is wrong with her. She's burning up with a
fever, soaking in sweat, rigid with pain as she struggles to draw in each breath. I try to reassure
her, but my words are empty. I don't know how to treat her. I don't know how to protect her from
these creatures. I don't know how to get her home. She pulls back, raising her watery sapphire
gaze to my face.
“Let me go, Taylor.”
I shake my head. “No. No way in hell.”
“I can lead them off you. Give you a chance to escape.”
“Escape to where?! There's nowhere safe on this whole godforsaken island!”
She raises a trembling hand to cup my cheek. “You'll find a way. You'll find something. Everything
depends on you.”
“What are you--”
“I'm dying, Taylor.”
“...What?”
“I came to this island with six months to live at most. ...If I die now or in a few more months, it
doesn't really matter. At least this way, I'm giving you a chance to live. ...Take the chance I'm
giving you, Taylor. I know you don't understand now, but someday you will. You'll figure it out.
You'll figure out a way to fix everything.”
“No...please, Quinn, let me come with you...”
She shakes her head. Her breathing is becoming more and more labored. “...There...are some
journeys...that you have...to take alone...”
Before I can protest further, she has summoned her strength and taken off into the jungle. I sink
down in the darkness of the cave, frozen with shock and terror as her strangled scream tears the
sky apart.

***

“So, Taylor,” Dr. Morita says after a long stretch of silence, “why don't you tell me what's on
your mind?”

The ultrasound I'm having this afternoon, I think. “...My friends,” I reply aloud.

“Which friends?”

My family. The ones who gave me existence. “The ones who were on the island with me.”

I expect her to push me to talk about my trauma on the island. What Rourke did to me before
he stuck me in a stasis tube where she believes I waited for five years. Instead, she says, “Why
don't you tell me about them.”

“...They mean everything to me.”

“Will you tell me about them? What are their names?”

“Jake. Diego. Grace. Sean. Estela. Quinn. Aleister. Zahra. Raj. Craig. Michelle. Should I tell you
more?” When she nods at me to continue, I go on. “Jake is the love of my life. He knows me to
the depths of my soul, and to be with him is to be almost complete. Diego has been my best
friend for as long as I can remember. He is beautiful and kind and creative and clever and most
of the world doesn't appreciate him the way it should, even now. Grace and Aleister are
married, and they have a beautiful son together. Neither of them ever had their parents' love or
affection, but they are two of the kindest, most loving people you'll ever meet...”

I go on, pouring out my love for my Catalysts onto this stranger. I will talk about them for as
long as she allows, long enough to run out the clock on our session if possible. In this room,
protected by a seal of confidentiality to rival a church confessional, my love for my friends is a
safe topic. Not every topic is safe. But this one is.

Dr. Morita lets me go on almost until the session ends. Then she holds up a hand. “Let me stop
you there, Taylor. I want to ask you something: when I ask you to think about your friends,
what is the first thing that comes to your mind?”
I mean to say 'family'. I want to say 'family'. 'Family' is usually the first thing that comes to my
mind when I think of my Catalysts. But instead, I blurt out the first thing that has popped into
my mind just now.

“...I can't protect them.”

“...What can't you protect them from?”

Well, I'm in it now. Backpeddling would only increase the damage. I just have to navigate
carefully. “...Anything. From what happened in Northbridge. From time.”

“Time.”

“Yes. That thing I imagine we're running short on.”

She glances at the clock. “You are right. But I just want to ask you one more question: do you
believe it is up to you to protect your friends?”

“...Perhaps.”

“Why do you think that is?”

Because on the island, it was up to me. I am Vaanu's daughter, and I was the only one who could
save them. “...I don't know. Anyway, we're out of time, and I need to go.”

“You are free to go, of course.” She stands up, holding a hand out to me to shake. “It was very
nice to meet you, Taylor. I hope you will consider coming back.”

***

“...Oh, God...oh, my God....”

My stomach is covered in cold, slimy goo. My bladder is full almost to bursting, a requirement
this early in the game apparently, to lift the uterus to the surface and make it easier to see. But
any discomfort has faded into the background. Because the technician has just turned the
screen toward me with a smile. There's a small, vaguely human-shaped blob in the center of the
screen, grainy and white. The technician points to a spot on the blob, where I can just about
make out a tiny flutter.

“That's the heartbeat.”

I feel Jake's grip on my hand tighten. I manage to tear my eyes away from the screen long
enough to look over at him. His eyes are sparkling as he takes it in. He curls his other hand
around mine and brings it up to kiss my knuckles, never taking his eyes off the screen.
“Are you seeing this, Princess?”

I smile, turning my eyes back onto the screen. “I'm seeing it. I'm pregnant. I'm actually
pregnant...”

“This is real. ...We're really having a baby.”

“...We're having a baby, Jake...”

Sean

For once, a Skype call with the other Catalysts has resulted in smiles all around as Michelle and
I announce that we've set our wedding date for March. Even Zahra, still looking a little weak,
with her forehead still sporting a large bandage, grins as she leans against Craig on their sofa.

“It will be off-season then, and Michelle will be able to get the time off work that far in advance.
The only thing we're having trouble deciding is which coast to have it on, east or west.”

“I'm personally leaning towards the west coast,” Michelle adds. “Because we've got the perfect
excuse to hold it in southern California, and the weather's much more likely to be nice. Besides,
they've got beaches.”

“And I suppose a Vaanti handfasting isn't really in the cards?” Quinn asks.

“Niala'rei is in January,” Diego points out.

“A difficult time for me to get away,” I concede.

“Ahh, the ceremony isn't so much the point,” Jake declares, draping an arm over Taylor's
shoulder. “Niala'rei, an old-fashioned Western white wedding, or something else entirely, all
you're doing is throwing a party and a little ritual to publically declare that you're crazy in love
enough to spend the rest of your lives together. And we kind of knew that already.”

I laugh. “You're lucky we all know you here, Jake. It was a little hard to tell if you were saying
'Congratulations' or some form of 'Bah, humbug'.”

“I only say 'Bah, humbug' at Christmas. Congratulations. Seriously.”

There's a flurry of wedding talk for a few minutes, although there isn't much to tell since we
don't have many details planned. When we briefly lapse into silence, Taylor clears her throat.
“I...actually have some news, too. But I feel a little bad now, because I feel like I'm going to steal
your thunder.”

“Oh, please!” Michelle laughs. “Steal away. As long as it's good news. We can use all the good
news we can get.”

“Well...you should be prepared in case you're thinking of having me stand up in your wedding.
...I'm pregnant.”

The news sends everyone into another flurry of excitement, congratulations, and questions.

“When are you due?” Michelle asks.

“Early in April.”

“Yay! So it will be an April baby, just like me!” Grace laughs. “Which is quite a coincidence, since
Reggie is a January baby.”

“So, you're going to be pretty far along at the wedding,” Michelle says thoughtfully. “I think
we have to hold it in California now.”

Taylor snorts. “I'm happy to be your excuse if you really want a California wedding, but don't go
altering plans on my account. I promise I'll try really hard not to go into labor at the wedding.”

“If you do, it will just make things more exciting,” Michelle declares. “Heck, I may even get to
deliver your baby. Fair warning, I'm going to be calling you at least once a week until it's born
to check up on you.”

“She isn't lying,” Grace sighs, grinning. “She did the same thing to me.”

Quinn sighs. “I do wish you were over on the east coast with us, though. With you pregnant and
Michelle getting married, it feels like all the Catalyst girls should be together right now. I mean,
it would be great if the whole family were together regardless, but weddings and babies seem
like the perfect events for girlfriends to bond over...”

“Speak for yourself,” Zahra snorts. “I don't want anything to do with the little bugger until it's
out.”

“Possible awkward question,” Raj pipes up. “Who's gonna be the godfather? Mike or Diego?”

“Woah, Raj!” Craig yelps. “Way to stir up the drama right off the bat! Isn't it a little early to be
asking them a thing like that?”

Jake laughs. “Don't worry, we've already decided. We just haven't had a chance to ask him yet.
...Diego? Are you willing to be the godfather?”
Diego looks genuinely surprised. “I...me? Really? Of course! I'm flattered! Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Taylor confirms. “Mike was the best man at our wedding. You get godfather dibs
on my first baby.”

“Besides, we're going to ask Rebecca to be the godmother.”

“I'm leaning more and more toward California for the wedding,” Michelle declares.

“I don't care where it is,” I reply. “As long as you're walking down the aisle towards me, and the
rest of you are there to see it.”

“Well...if you do choose California, we've got the perfect place for the reception,” Jake informs
us. “We told Taylor's folks about the baby, and they immediately offered us the beach house.”

“Seriously? Just like that?”

Diego sighs, rolling his eyes. “You underestimate just how little her aunt and uncle want to go
through having a baby in the house again.”

“All right!” Raj crows. “You're hosting New Years' Eve this year! It'll be perfect. Holidays
somewhere warm, a joint birthday party for you and Michelle and a chance to toast to both a
future Catalyst wedding, and a brand new baby Catalyst! Actually, thinking about it, that might
be a good time for a joint wedding/baby shower, too...”

I sit back with Michelle's hand in mine, feeling a goofy grin cross my face as talk turns to Raj's
plans for the biggest Catalyst party since Elysian Lodge. Maybe things aren't completely back to
normal after the horror of the disaster a few weeks back. But my family is whole, and we're
starting to plan for the future again. And just like that, I know we're going to be all right.

Rochelle

Nothing is ever going to be the same again. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. A month
ago, I watched my daughter give her life in a battle with Silas Prescott to protect the city. I
suppose she was trying to protect me by never telling me that she was Dragonness, but I knew.
Of course I knew. Who else would it be but the child who came through the Prism Gate twenty-
five years ago? Besides, I'm her mother for godssake. I know her silhouette. I know the way she
walks, the way she moves, the timbre of her voice.

The day after the battle, I sought out Poppy. I was still dazed, numb with grief. I had to tell
someone. I had to tell someone what I knew, and Tahira's best friend seemed like the right
person. I haltingly confessed what I had told Tahira only a week or two before the battle, about
the Prism Gate, about her origins. Reluctantly, Poppy admitted that she knew. She and Dax had
known since the Prism Gate first malfunctioned how Tahira had been affected by it. It was Dax
who had constructed her costume, and the two of them had guided her since she had been
released from the hospital, suddenly blessed with the powers of flight and super strength.
Poppy did not give me the identities of Talos or Minuet, and I didn't ask for them. I don't need
to know them. Let them go about their lives, cleaning up the remnants of Stonewall and his
criminal gang.

I don't know what to do with myself since I lost her. Dax tries to assure me that he is working
on a way to find her, to bring her back, but I'm afraid to hope it can be done, afraid to hope that
my little girl is alive somewhere.

I come to the city center nearly every evening as the construction crew are wrapping up for the
day. The debris is pretty much clear by now. Someone has set up a shrine to Dragonness in the
center of the square, a small stone tablet reading, Dragonness, the hero of Northbridge. Candles
and flowers are strewn around the memorial, more and more every day. I burst into tears the
first time I saw it. Gazing at it now, my throat still tightens painfully. It makes my heart swell to
see how eager people are to honor her. And yet, there is a bitterness I can't quite swallow. How
many of the people leaving flowers are really mourning my Tahira and not just Dragonness?
Besides that, what about all the other people who lost their lives that day? Where are their
shrines?

I know I should be proud of the brave sacrifice my daughter made that day, of all the lives she
saved. And in the depths of my heart and my soul, I am. ...But that pride isn't strong enough yet
to overcome the my grief.

… I never told her goodbye. ...I never got her forgiveness for concealing her origins...

“...Our summer is over.” A voice sounds beside me, making me jump. “But another will come
soon. And when it does, imagine me with you. Because with you is exactly where I'll be.”

I turn to my right and find myself looking down at the profile of an elderly woman with pale,
weathered skin and a head of limp, silver hair. She is short and rail thin, wearing a red
sweatsuit in spite of the sweltering August heat. She looks as if she must be ninety years old.
And yet, there is something about her, a hint of power that is both intimidating and strangely
familiar.

“...I'm...sorry...?”

She slides her gaze to the side and up to my face. Her eyes are a stunning shade of blue.
“...Words recorded some time ago, by someone far braver than I, just before she gave herself up
for the greater good. ...Looking at this memorial, they seemed appropriate.”

“I see...” I turn back to the shrine, shifting uncomfortably. I don't want to talk to this strange
woman right now. And yet, I don't have the will to ask her to leave me to my grief.
“Only a handful of people were aware of the sacrifice that young woman made. They have made
certain to honor it, but most of the people whose lives she saved don't even realize she existed.
I am glad to see your daughter getting her due.”

Electricity shoots down my spine, followed by a trickle of ice. I whirl to face her. “...How...how
did you...?”

“...I am glad to finally meet you, Rochelle Rogers.” The woman turns toward me, holding out her
left hand for me to shake. And that is when I realize that she is an amputee. Emerging from the
end of her right sleeve is a skeletal bionic hand. Trembling, I take her left hand in a loose
handshake.

“Who...are you...?”

“My name isn't important. Not yet. I'm an old woman who isn't long for this world, and I can't
really help you very much. But what I can tell you is this: I am your daughter's true kinswoman.
And I know for a fact that she is alive.”

Notes:
Thanks to Nikkisha16 for giving me the idea of sending Taylor to a therapist! I may continue
playing with that idea in the future.

Chapter 17: Threads of Time

Summary:
The Endless pushes several pieces into place. But what is the game being played?
Chapter Text

Rochelle

Perhaps I should be more skeptical. If I didn't believe Dax could find my daughter and bring her
back, why should I believe a stranger? It isn't logical. But something about this stranger seems
to defy all logic. No, not just defy logic. There is a fierceness in this frail old woman's eyes that
makes me believe logic cowers at the sight of her. She gestures to a bench nearby.

“Shall we sit down?”

I nod weakly. “...Y-yes. All right...” She leads me over to the bench and sits down beside me.

“I know this is a lot to take in. I wish I could give you time to process it all, but I'm afraid time is
something I no longer have the strength to ignore.”

“You...you say that Tahira is alive...?”

“She is. But she is trapped right now.”

“Trapped where?”

“In another dimension. On the homeworld of her biological parents.” She pauses a moment.
“...Her parents sent her to you to save her life. Your longing for a child combined with their will
to save theirs and allowed her to pass through the Prism Gate.”

“...I...don't understand...”

“Of course you don't. Not yet. But you will, in time.” She chuckles in a way that makes me think
she is telling some sort of inside joke, but there is a bitterness in the sound, too. “It's...a strange
thing that happens sometimes when one of her parents' race meets with a human. The two
races are alike in so many ways, and when a human's will and need combine with their own,
miracles can happen. ...You will understand when you meet Taylor.”

“Who is Taylor?”

“Your daughter's cousin. She will explain in more detail.”

I am quiet a long moment. “You tell me that Tahira's alive. That she's trapped. Am I also to
understand that there is a way to free her?”

“Yes. In truth the solution is...while not easy, relatively simple.”

“What is it?” When she seems to hesitate, I grasp her arm. “Tell me, please! She's my child...”

“I know. ...If I could, I would bring her back myself. ...The time was I might have been able to do
so with relative ease. But I don't have that power any longer. I'm a weakened shell of my
former self, and my existence has become a paradox.”

I want to protest that I don't understand, but I worry that she is going to feed me that line about
understanding in time again, and something about those words makes my skin crawl.

“...Is there someone who does have the power?”

“Yes. Many someones, working in tandem, have the power to find the solution.”

“But you won't tell me what that solution is, even though it is supposed to be relatively simple!”
I am growing increasingly frustrated. My daughter is trapped, and this woman is speaking
riddles around the means to bring her back to me.

“My time is short. And I have been reduced to a messenger. It will all become clear when you
meet Taylor. For now, though, I can tell you where to start. Go to Grayson Prescott. Tell him
what you know, of Tahira's origins, and of her identity as Dragonness. Most importantly, tell
him what you know of the origins of the Prism Crystal.” She pins me with her cerulean gaze.
“You will need Taylor to reach Tahira. But to get to Taylor, you will have to go through the
Eleven Catalysts.”

“I'll go through hell and back to get Tahira home,” I growl. She chuckles.

“I am not suggesting a battle. You must earn their trust. Of course, it will not hurt if you can
come to the negotiating table from a position of power. I can help you with that. So can Grayson
Prescott, once he knows the crystal's origins. ...The danger will not be over once Tahira is home,
either for her, or for Taylor. The Catalysts will need the information they will gain from the
quest for a solution.”

Frustrated tears are streaming down my cheeks, but I don't know that I can get her to give me
more than she already has.

“So...I have to tell Grayson Prescott what I know about Tahira's origins and the Prism
Crystal's...?”

“That's right. And then...he'll bring me to the Eleven Catalysts.”

“He will bring you to at least one of them. More likely three. They will be the first barrier.”

“...I wish you could just tell me how to get my daughter back...”

“So do I, Rochelle. ...But I lost my arm trying to interfere directly to protect my family. I know
my place. I know my role. I am only messenger, and I can only guide. Now, Rochelle, there is
something I need you to do for me.”

I sigh. “...What is it?”

“I have begun the process of dying. I need you to take me to Northbridge General.”

“You've...begun...?” My heart drops as I realize that her skin has turned ashen under a sheen of
sweat and her breathing has grown labored. “...Oh, my god...”

“There is...something you must give to my doctor. And only to my doctor.” Her intact left hand
trembles as she removes something from her pocket. It looks like a tiny hourglass on a chain
beside an miniature stopwatch. She holds it out to me. “Her name is Dr. Nguyen. Dr. Michelle
Nguyen. ...Tell her this: 'Eleven made one. Twelve are one'.”

I accept the trinket, studying it carefully. It doesn't look like much, just a pair of charms,
elaborately detailed though they are. But something about them holds my attention. Until I hear
the softly fluttering clump of a human body collapsing. I yelp, falling to my knees beside her. I
look frantically around for someone who may be able to help, but the construction workers
have all cleared off for the day. I pull out my phone to call an ambulance. When the call is made,
I hunker down to wait beside the woman, curled up on her side on the pavement. Her eyes
flutter and she raises them to my face.

“...Doctor...Michelle...Nguyen...” she rasps.

“But...wait! What's your name?!”

But her head has already dropped to the pavement again.

Michelle

It never fails. Just when I get two seconds to pause for a sip of coffee in the doctor's lounge, my
beeper goes. I'm apparently needed in the ER. I sigh, reluctantly placing my coffee cup back on
the table and climbing to my feet again. I can do this. The trick to getting through each day
working at a hospital is to give yourself something to look forward to. Big or small, it doesn't
really matter. In about four months, I'll have a few days off to spend with the Catalysts in
California. And at the end of my shift, I'll have dinner with Sean, a hot bath, and a few hours'
sleep in my own bed. But for now, I'm needed in the ER.

One of the interns is waiting for me when I get down there, standing with a dark-skinned
woman who looks to be in her mid-forties or so. Perhaps a little older.

“What is it, Liliana?”

“There was a Jane Doe admitted just now. Old woman, stable but unresponsive, no ID on her.”
She gestures to the woman beside her. “This is Ms. Rogers. She was there when Jane Doe
collapsed. She called the ambulance. She says Jane Doe asked for you by name.”

Something warm and electric sizzles a warning in my belly. I frown at the woman. “So, Ms.
Rogers...Jane Doe gave you my name, but not hers?”

“That's about the size of it. ...She also gave me this for you.” She pulls something out of her
pocket and hands it to me. It's something on a chain. Two somethings. A tiny hourglass, and
what looks like a stopwatch. I feel the blood rushing out of my head to settle at my feet. I'm not
sure what this is yet, but it involves a mysterious old woman asking for me by name and
sending a messenger to give me two timepieces on a chain. Whatever it is, I don't like it. I tuck
the charms into my pocket.

“...Thank you...”

“She also said...'Eleven made one. Twelve are one'. She seemed to think you'd know what it
meant.”
Well, now I like it even less.

“...Can...you describe this old woman?”

“Well, except for the bionic hand, she doesn't really have any distinguishing features.”

My veins turn to ice. “...A bionic hand? Right or left?”

“Right, I think.”

“...Liliana? Where is she now?”

Liliana leads me to the room where the patient is. I know what I'm going to see when I peer
around the corner. I know who I am going to see. That doesn't make it any easier when right
there in front of me, the Endless herself is lying in a hospital bed with a cannula in her nose. I
should be alarmed. I should be scared. I should be wondering what the hell she is doing here.
But for a moment, I'm just sad. For a moment, all I can think is that this is Taylor. This is some
incarnation of my dear friend. Of course she asked for me by name. I turn back to the Liliana
and Ms. Rogers.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “I can take over from here.”

They both retreat, and I move to sit on the bed beside the Endless. I sit on her left side and
cover her good hand with mine. Her hand is cool. I'm almost surprised when she stirs at my
touch, her eyes fluttering open and focusing on my face. She smiles.

“...Michelle...”

I feel myself smirking a little. “I have to say, even with everything that's happened in the last
few months, I still never expected to see you again.”

“I never really expected to be back,” she confesses. “But then...neither did Taylor.”

I feel my smile slipping again. “So...why are you back?”

“Straight to the point, of course. I expect nothing else from my bright, beautiful Pavo.” She sighs.
“I'm not back for long. I've got hours to live at most.”

“But...why? What's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me, my Michelle, is that this body is at least ninety-six years old and it has
been through far more abuse than most people a quarter of my age. And that estimated age
isn't even considering the fact that when this body was first born, it resembled that of a twenty-
one-year-old. Factoring in my supposed age when I first came into being on that plane, this
body is probably closer to 117.” She shrugs, grinning wryly. “My suit prevented me from aging
further than I already had when I put it on. But I don't have it anymore. I couldn't very well help
my Catalysts outside of La Huerta while wearing it.”

“...Help us?”

“Of course. What else is the purpose of this life of mine?”

I hesitate for a moment. “...We've...been trying to convince Taylor that she has a life and
purpose outside of us...”

“Well, of course Taylor does. Her new existence is her cosmic reward for making the choice I
didn't have the strength to make. My ressurection is just a strange side-effect.”

“...Wait...I thought it was the Prism Crystal that brought Taylor back.”

She nods. “Oh, it was. That doesn't mean it was an accident.”

I feel my forehead wrinkle as I take that in. Typical of the Endless, to give an answer that only
leads to more questions. “...Okay, let's leave that for a moment. ...When you talk about helping
us...?”

“I mean guiding you. Just as I always did, through two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine loops.
Guiding you so that you, my Twelve, will survive and prosper.” She chuckles ruefully, and I see
her skeletal right hand flex slightly. “I don't have to hide nearly as much this time...though I still
don't dare be as direct as I wish I could be...”

“Please, tell me what you can. Anything you can.” She draws in a breath, and my stomach twists
as her expression tightens with pain. “...Endless?”

She grunts a little, then her expression settles into a smile as she turns her hand to curl her
fingers around mine. “Don't worry. A little discomfort is to be expected at the end of one's life.
...I will tell you everything I can possibly tell you. But you must forgive me if I take it a bit
slowly.”
I bite my lip, feeling a little guilty. “...Of course. Take your time.”

“...With Taylor's energy returned to him, Vaanu was complete. But Taylor had become her own
consciousness, and Vaanu loved her as his child. So, Vaanu returned to Earth's recent past to
make himself her natural father, siring her on a human woman. Both he and his human bride
perished over the ocean when Taylor was an infant.” She pauses for a long moment. “...You do
not have to worry about losing her to Vaanu again.”

A tension that I have been carrying around in the back of my mind since the Catalyst Reunion
floods through my body and immediately drains out. I feel suddenly lightheaded, and there's a
tightness in my chest and throat that makes me think I'll burst into tears at any moment.

“Really? ...She's really safe?”

The Endless snorts. “Safe? Not likely. But she is not going to be returned to the stars. She was
conceived within the La Huerta time bubble in 1995, and she was born within it in 1996. When
her father died that same year, it forever bound her existence to the earth. Reentering the
bubble in the year 2017 meant that she was able to close the circle and undo the anomalies. But
one final element was required before she could actually be returned to human form.”

“...The Prism Crystal.”

“Precisely. Infused with a little piece of Taylor's life energy on the day of her birth, and hidden
on La Huerta for Helena Prescott to discover. A few months ago, that little piece of Taylor's life
energy found the spark it needed.”

“...Which was...?”

“Her own paternal kin.”

“Her own...? You mean...some...relative of Vaanu? On earth?”

“That is correct. One in particular.”

I frown. Her tone suggests that I ought to know who she means. I take a cautious guess.
“...Dragonness?”

She nods, smiling. “The very same.”

“...Why did you give me those timepieces?”

“Because you will need them. Taylor will need them.”

“Taylor is pregnant!” I blurt out. I'm not sure why I felt the need to announce that at such a
precise moment. Maybe because it sounds like the Endless is talking about sending Taylor into
battle. She regards me calmly.

“I know.” A playful smile curves her lips. “...That rather raises the stakes, don't you think? Since
she'll be fighting for our Jake's child as well as herself and our Catalysts.”

“But fighting what?! What danger is she going to be facing?!”

The smile slips off her face. “...Taylor gave herself back to Vaanu begging for Mike to be
restored. For Olivia to be restored. And they were. ...The trouble is...when it comes to Vaanu's
race...will is a powerful thing. Very powerful. And at that particular moment, her soul was just
in such chaos...” She sighs. “...You already realize that Mike and Olivia were not the only ones
restored. Lundgren was brought back. I was brought back...”
I feel my heart drop, splashing into my stomach as the true meaning of her words sinks in.
“...Oh, God. ...How many...?”

“I can't say for sure. ...At the very least...Lila. Surely some others who died inside the time
bubble. ...I know she tried to bring back Imogen. I don't know if she succeeded. ...It is strange,
but I don't even know how the poor woman died...” She lapses into a long silence, staring up at
the ceiling. Finally, her eyes meet mine again. “The powers Dragonness gained from the Prism
Crystal are her birthright. ...Such power is Taylor's birthright as well.”

“You mean...Taylor might be able to fly or turn herself into bronze or something like that?”

“Something like that. Her true potential has not yet been unlocked, but she is Vaanu's true
daughter. However her power ends up manifesting itself, it will be her gift and her curse to
bear.”

“So...are the other superhumans also relatives of Vaanu? Or...countrymen, maybe? Are they
from his home planet?”

“No. Talos, Minuet, Stonewall, the Man on Fire...they are the descendants of humans who were
in one way or another indirectly exposed to the Island's Heart. Not enough for Vaanu to enter
into them the way he entered Quinn, but enough that they took a bit of his power. Perhaps their
ancestors ate fruit off one of the great trees, or sweetened their tea with Elyys'tel's sap, or
drank water from the rivers. They would not have been on La Huerta long enough to be
transformed into Vaanti, but that exposure altered their DNA, and that alteration was passed to
their children. And then those children came in contact with the Prism Crystal...”

“...And their bodies reacted.”

“Precisely.”

I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. I take in another, and then a
third, putting everything together in my mind.

“...Okay. So...Lila has been ressurected, and probably some others. ...And are they the ones
Taylor may be in danger from?”

The Endless nods. “Well, potentially. And Rourke. Rourke is always a danger.”

“But Rourke is in prison.”

“Which is good, but not a guarantee of safety. No prison is escape-proof. ...Combined with the
power of liquid prism, Silas Prescott managed to use Dragonness's power to create a rift in
space and time that transported them to Vaanu's homeworld. Dragonness is Taylor's paternal
cousin. ...Rourke already knows that Taylor is alive. If he discovers what power she still
possesses, he will be very keen to use her and Dragonness. Between them, they may well be
enough to complete Project Janus.”
“So...what can we do?”

“...Protect her, my Michelle. As you love her, protect her. As she loves and protected her
Catalysts, her Catalysts must now protect her. Be certain of everyone before placing your trust
in anyone. ...But please...see that she meets her cousin. Be careful who you trust...but you must
bring Dragonness home.”

“How?”

“Quite simply once you've put all the pieces of the puzzle together. But gathering those pieces
will teach you who you can trust. I have set everything in motion, my Pavo. The rest is up to my
Catalysts now.”

I nod slowly. Something tells me she has told me all she dares. “...So...what happens to you
now?”

“Now, I die.”

… I am a resident physician. I survived med school, survived an internship in a hospital. Death

is basically my coworker. But the matter-of-fact way the Endless says it makes my throat
tighten. She just looks so much like Taylor.

“Just like that, huh?”

“It's better this way. Better that I am not hanging around while Taylor's trying to live her new
life. Besides...it won't be the first time I've died. Even as myself.” Her wrinkled lips curve into a
frown. “I...do have just one request.”

“What is it?”

Her eyes lock with mine, and suddenly she looks as fragile and vulnerable as a lost child.
“...I...would rather not be alone this time...”

… I'm on the clock. I can't just drop everything to sit at her bedside. But I can't deny her, either.
I text Sean. I make sure he knows where to find me, make sure he understands that he needs to
come to the hospital immediately. I stay with the Endless until he arrives. He stops when he
sees her, staring silently. There is no anxiety in his posture or his expression. Just sorrow.

“...She's dying. I'll explain everything when it's over. For now, she just needs someone to stay
with her.”

“...I understand.”

Sean takes my place at the Endless' bedside, enclosing her frail left hand between his palms. I
try to go about my day, but I keep drifting back to her room. Nurses and doctors pepper me
with questions about the Jane Doe I am so interested in. All I tell them is that she is taken care
of. That I'll take care of her and anything to do with her.

She is still alive when I get off my shift. Alive, but sleeping. I pull up a chair to wait, slipping my
arm through Sean's. About thirty minutes later, her eyes flutter, but she does not focus on
either of us.

“...Thank you, my friends...” she whispers. “...You are worth everything. ...Because of you, I know
what love is...”

Her eyes fall shut. They don't open again. Within ten minutes, she's gone. For a moment, Sean
and I sit still at her bedside. A moment of silence that we weren't able to give her the first time.
It doesn't last long, though. She wouldn't want it to.

“...I have to take care of the body,” I murmur. “Tell the Catalysts we need an emergency group
call. Things have just gotten...really complicated.”

Chapter 18: A Game of High Stakes

Summary:
Rochelle and Grayson make contact with the first of the Eleven Catalysts who stand between
them and the one person they need to bring Tahira back.
Chapter Text

Jake

2:34am. 2:35am.

Warm California night air, heavy with the scent of saltwater, drifts through the open window,
wafting over me and my wife as we lay entwined in bed. I stare up at the ceiling, where a fan's
blades spin lazily, churning and cooling the air in the beach house bedroom. Taylor lies beside
me, tucked under my arm with her head on my chest.

I can't sleep. I think I may have nodded off somewhere around one in the morning, but I was
awake again an hour later. I haven't managed to drift off again. Everything Michelle told us this
evening is still painfully fresh in my mind. The good news is, we don't have to worry about
Taylor being...reabsorbed into Vaanu. She's no longer the missing piece of the Island's Heart.
The bad news is...she's not out of danger. And right now, it isn't completely clear where the
danger is coming from. She brought Mike back to life. And Lundgren. And apparently, they
weren't the only ones. At least Olivia Montoya, Lila, and the Endless herself were all restored by
the strange power of Vaanu and his daughter. There may have been others. Rourke might be a
danger, too. For all that he's locked away, if he discovers what power is still inside Taylor, he
might try to exploit it. And on top of everything else, the Endless has charged us with bringing
Dragonness back to earth, God only knows how. And all this is coming while Taylor is pregnant.

2:46am. 2:47am.

“...Jake?” I didn't even feel Taylor lift her head. I roll my gaze toward her and meet her eyes in
the moonlight. She frowns at me, looking concerned. “Are you still awake?”

“Me? Nah. I'm just sleeping with my eyes open. And sleep-talking.” I grin nonchalantly, pressing
a kiss to her forehead. She sighs and curls up again.

“There's no need to pretend, you know,” she chides mildly. “...I'm scared, too.”

It's my turn to sigh. “I ain't trying to pretend exactly...” I trail off, and stay silent for a long
moment. Finally, I ask, “Which part is scaring you most?”

“...The idea of Rourke coming after me. ...Or after the baby...”

“...Do you think the baby might...?”

“I don't know. I could deal with that either way. ...But the thought of Rourke getting his claws
into our child...”

I tighten my grip on her, feeling my jaw clench. “That ain't happening. Not on my watch. ...He
ain't getting near you, either.”

Her hand finds mine, and she brings my fingers to her lips and kisses them. “Which part is
scaring you most?”

“...This whole business about bringing Dragonness back to earth.”

“...Really? The thought of bringing my superhero cousin home scares you more than the idea of
a megalomaniacal supervillain trying to use our child to take over the world?”

I snort. “When you put it like that, it sounds pretty bass-ackwards, don't it.” I feel the smile slip
off my face. “...It's just that the threat feels more immediate than it does with Rourke.”

“What threat, though?”

“...I don't know. ...It seems pretty likely whatever power is in you is gonna be necessary to bring
Dragonness back. ...I'm just scared it might harm you.”

“...The Endless wouldn't have been so insistent on bringing Dragonness back if the process was
going to harm me. I know all those time loops made her pretty ruthless, but everything she ever
did was to protect us. The Catalysts mean everything to her. ...And she was ready to let the
world burn to keep me with you.”

“Yeah, I know. I don't think she'd intentionally harm you. ...But she's not omiscient. How many
tries did it take her before we were able to survive a single day on La Huerta?”

“She isn't omniscient, it's true. But she knows we don't have the time loop anymore. I know
myself, Jake. The Endless was me at my most ruthless, my most jaded, and she still couldn't
encourage me to give myself back to Vaanu to save the families and friends of the people who
mattered most to her. ...The Endless was selfish.”

“...The Endless wasn't going to be the one living in the Paradise she created,” I murmur.

“No. I was. Her alternate self. ...She could have saved everything, but she wasn't willing to trade
her existence or mine to do it. ...She was willing to give up Vaanu and the world to keep us safe
in a bubble for the rest of our lives.”

The bitterness and anger in her voice is honestly a little alarming. I bring a hand up to stroke
the back of her head, twining the fingers of my other hand through hers.

“...Taylor...”

“...You weren't there at the Threshold, Jake. She never told me what I really was. She said it was
up to me to decide. ...But I don't think she ever meant to give me the chance to give myself back.
I think she was intending to destroy the crystal pillar to keep me from reaching it.” She sighs.
“I'm...not saying she was evil or a bad person. Her world was small and lonely, and it never
expanded beyond the eleven of you. But what she wanted was ultimately selfish.”

I exhale slowly, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. “...I dunno, Princess. Maybe you're right.
All I know is that because of you, the world ain't on fire, but I also spent five years hurtin' worse
than I hurt after I thought Mike died. ...It's been two months since I got you back, and it still
feels like there's another threat around every corner...”

“I know, Jake. I know. I feel it, too.”

“...Makes me worry about what kinda life we're gonna bring our baby into.”

“Me too.”

“I mean, most parents worry about how to bring their kids up right, how to discipline without
breaking them, how to give them love without spoiling them...what are we worried about? How
to protect them from megalomaniacal supervillains.”

“...We're going to worry about the rest of it, too. Once all of this settles down, we're going to
have all the same worries as every other new parent.”
Once it all settles down...if it all settles down...but I don't say that. No need to say what I know
we're both thinking.

“...I love you,” I finally say. “...All I want is to know you're safe.”

“I love you, too.” Her words hang heavy in the air. I pull them over me like a blanket, wrapping
myself in them. There was something she left unspoken. I know there was. But until she says it,
I'm playing ignorant. I'd rather hold her in silence and drift back off under the blanket of her
love then press her to let her fear creep in and ignite mine again. I've had enough of being
afraid for one night.

Taylor

Four beams of light cut through the dark, dense jungle in front of me. On this part of the island,
the air is blisteringly hot and sticky with humidity, even at night. I wipe a coating of sweat from
my forehead, but my fingers are just as coated, and it doesn't help.
“Perfect weather for skeeters,” Jake mutters under his breath. “Yet ain't a one of us been bit. That
ain't natural.”
“Apparently, you'd feel more comfortable if malaria were added to the list of our troubles,”
Aleister grumbles. “Or at the least, unbearable itching.”
I ignore them, casting the beam of my flashlight at the dense foliage in front of me, desperately
searching for any sign of life. But the jungle is eerily silent and still. I stop, biting my lip and
choking back a sob. An arm sliding over my shoulder makes me jump.
“Hey,” Jake says softly, drawing me to his side. “We're gonna find her, Princess. She's gonna be
okay.”
“Estela is stronger than all of us put together,” Grace agrees.
“She escaped my father's control,” Aleister adds. “She'll return to us.”
I briefly lean my head into Jake before looking over at Aleister. “Are you...okay? I mean, are you
bearing up?”
He is quiet for a moment. “...My father has all but disinherited me in favor of a daughter I never
knew he had. A daughter who would rather see him dead. ...Perhaps I should be more conflicted.
...But all I can really think about is getting to know my sister. ...If she will allow me to be her
brother...”
“Once we find her, you'll be able to,” Grace assures him.
We make our way carefully down a slope toward the emergency shelter. At the bottom, Jake holds
up a hand sharply, a signal we've all come to recognize. We stop moving, turn off our flashlights,
and duck into the foliage. For a moment, we collectively hold our breath, listening to the distant
rustling and snapping twigs as several bodies tramp through the rainforest. When the sounds die,
Jake clicks his flashlight on again, nodding. We resume our search. Suddenly, Jake stops again.
“...Ohhh, shit...”
I follow the beam of his flashlight, and feel my belly twist and go cold. Blood, black and shiny in the
moonlight, staining the leaves at his feet. There's a lot of it. Aleister picks up his pace, following
the trail toward the shelter, the rest of us following suit. Finally, she appears within the circles of
light expanding ahead of us, slumped against the derelict concrete wall. Blood stains the front of
her shirt from her ribcage down to her waist. Our flashlight beams dance spasmodically over her
as we break into a run. Jake reaches her first, dropping his flashlight as he goes to his knees and
grips her shoulders. Estela laboriously lifts her head. As I draw closer, I realize that there is blood
trickling down her left temple, tangling her hair and dripping off her jawline. Jake pulls off his
jacket to tie it around the wound in her abdomen.
“Princess, call Papa Smurf and get the others here quick. This doesn't look good.” Estela whimpers
in pain as he pulls his jacket tight against her wound. He takes her face gently in his hands,
turning her to examine the wound on her head. “Jesus, Katniss, what the hell did you do? Rip that
chip thing out with your bare hands?”
“W-wretched device,” she whispers. She moans, slumping against Jake. Tucking himself under her
arm, he lifts her carefully into his arms. She cries out in agony, tears glistening on her eyelashes.
I've already sent a thought to Varyyn, begging him to bring Michelle quickly. The thought he
returns is simple—We're coming—but his mind is steady and calm, contrasting sharply with my
own panic. Jake jerks his head toward the shelter.
“Come on. We gotta get her someplace less exposed.”
Inside the emergency shelter, we hunker down just shy of the door. Jake places Estela carefully on
the ground and I cradle her head on my lap, brushing gingerly at the strands of hair plastered to
her forehead with sweat and blood.
“Aleister...” she croaks. Aleister hesitates before coming to kneel beside her.
“I...I am here, Estela...”
Her hand shoots out to grasp his wrist. She visibly summons her strength and turns her head, her
dark eyes locking with his.
“D-don't let Rourke get his hands...on Taylor...”
Aleister blinks, hazarding a glance at me. “I...I won't. I don't plan on letting him get his hands on
anyone.”
“Promise me! You...know what he's capable of...more than anyone...”
“I...I promise...”
“What he'll do...with her...” Estela grits her teeth, her expression contorting as she moans. “...He'll
claim us, Aleister...he'll...claim us both...and our mothers with us...”

With a start, I open my eyes in the gray predawn light filtering into my beach house bedroom.
Jake grunts, shifting slightly at my movement, but he doesn't wake up. Trembling, I screw my
eyes shut, nestling into him and willing my heartbeat to slow back to normal. I'm determined
not to wake him. Down the hall, Diego is cuddled up with Varyyn in their own bedroom. I won't
wake them, either. They're all worn out. And they're going to need their rest.

The big thing to remember, Taylor, Michelle had said during our emergency group call, is that
we're going to protect you. That's a promise. And no arguing. The Endless herself charged us with
keeping you safe.

They're going to protect me. I won't try to stop them. They're going to fight for me. I'll allow it.
But I'll be damned if I let them die for me.

...Don't be reckless, my daughter...

The voice comes from somewhere deep in my subconscious mind, and brings with it a violent
sickness roiling through my midsection. I scramble clumsily out of bed and stumble to the
bathroom, barely pushing the lid of the toilet up in time before the contents of my stomach
come spilling out of my mouth. I try to retch and choke as quietly as possible, but I probably
already managed to wake my husband when I struggled out of bed. He kneels beside me, calm
as he draws my hair back from my face.

“I'm here, Princess. You're okay.”

I can't answer him. I'm just dry-heaving, but it's violent enough to send paralyzing spasms
through my limbs. My fingers are rigid on the outside of the toilet bowl, every inch of me slick
with sweat. I can't verbally answer my husband. But my mind is clear.

Father? Are you actually speaking to me?

Yes, my sweet girl. I'm here.
How can I be hearing you? You're dead...or...free...I don't understand...
Everything in its own time. ...Just let them protect you, my darling. For the sake of your child.
...Father...I'm scared...
… I love you, my child.

“...I'm scared...” I hear myself whimper. The spasms are settling. The strength is bleeding out of
me. I feel myself going limp as Jake draws me back into his arms.

“It's okay,” he murmurs, kissing my hair. “Remember, Michelle says the morning sickness
should be calming down pretty soon.”

I shake my head weakly. “...That's not what scares me.”

“...I know.” He is quiet for a moment. “...I'm here, Taylor. I love you so much. ...Tell me what you
need from me. Please. Just tell me what I can do.”

I sigh, nestling into his arms. I close my eyes, resting my head on his chest. “...You're doing it. ...I
love you, Jake. ...Just stay with me. Stay with me, and I know everything will be okay.”

Grayson

In the living room of Rochelle Rogers' apartment, an untouched cup of coffee on the scarred
sidetable to my right, I lean forward in a well-worn chintz armchair, propping my elbows on
my knees and letting my chin rest on top of my folded hands. Rochelle, Dax, and Poppy are
squished together on the loveseat across from me. I've been silent for a long time, long enough
to let Rochelle get everything out. But now, they're waiting for me to respond.
“...So...let me get this straight: to get Tahira back from an alternate dimension, we need this
Taylor person. And to get this Taylor person, we need to get through eleven other people.”

“...That's...about the long and short of it,” Dax confirms. “...Right, Rochelle?”

“Yes. That's basically it.”

“You don't seem all that surprised by Tahira's identity,” Poppy blurts out. Her expression is
wary, and for some reason, that strikes me as comical. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

“I'm not. I'm embarrassed to say it took me until the day my dad destroyed the city to figure it
out, but I did.” My mirth evaporates as quickly as it came. “But...I'm not sure how I can help. I
don't know anything about the Prism Gate. Dax is the expert there.”

“The old woman said you'd be able to help if I told you the crystal's origins.”

“...Which are...?”

“Your mother found it on the island of La Huerta when you were a baby. Your parents went
there with...Everett Rourke. So that your father could help him scope out the site for his new
resort.”

“...Rourke...” I frown, feeling my brain making connections. “...Hang on a second.” I pull out my
phone and open up a search.

“What are you doing?” Dax asks.

“...I'm just wondering, Rochelle. Do you think this woman might have been referring to Taylor
Chandler?”

“Wait...where have I heard that name?” Poppy wonders aloud.

“Taylor Chandler was the eleventh winner of the Hartfeld University raffle hosted by Rourke
International,” I explain, turning my phone over to hand it to her. “...More than that, though,
she's the one who didn't make it back with the others. Everyone basically assumed Rourke
killed her.”

“Until a couple months ago, when she was found alive,” Dax finishes. “...Right around the time
everything started going crazy here.”

“The old woman said Taylor is Tahira's cousin,” Rochelle says softly.

I hold out my hand to Poppy, and she passes my phone back to me. I am quiet for a moment as I
scan the news articles on the screen. Finally, I nod. “I think I know where to start.”
 ***

Rourke International's presence in Northbridge is small. Just a suite in an office building on the
outskirts of the city. But it has a conference room that is easily reserved, and it's as close to
neutral territory as the Rourke siblings and I can get within the city limits. Frankly, I'm lucky
they agreed to meet me within the city limits at all, especially since I told them that I was
requesting this meeting with regards to the Prism Crystal and its origins. I did not want to give
too much away over the phone, but I admitted that the crystal came from their father's private
island. I wasn't sure how interested they would be otherwise.

I take Rochelle with me. Dax and Poppy stay behind, but Rochelle and I are both wearing
microphones and earpieces at Dax's insistence. He doesn't want to miss anything that might be
potentially important. I'm actually grateful he insisted. Dad always said I lacked the
ruthlessness for real business negotiation. I've always disagreed with his assessment, but now
that Tahira is on the line, the stakes are higher than ever, and I confess to feeling nervous.
Besides, anything to do with the Prism Crystal is firmly Dax and Rochelle's territory. And with
Rochelle having been detatched from the project for twenty-five years, Dax's knowledge is
going to be invaluable.

We arrive at the office complex and step into the elevator. Rochelle has been silent for most of
the trip here, but when the elevator dings, I hear the subtle increase in her breath rate. I reach
over to put a hand on her shoulder.

“...It's going to be okay.”

“How many of them are going to be there?”

“Aleister Rourke only confirmed that he and his sister would be present, but I never gave him a
limit on how many people to bring.”

“...There are eleven people standing between us and the one person we need to bring Tahira
back.”

“And after today, it will be nine. ...Possibly fewer if he happens to bring along anyone else.”

“Are we sure about that? Are we sure we can convince them to help us?”

I am quiet longer than I should be. I want to tell her yes. I want to project total confidence. Dad
would be scolding me for doing any less if he were here. But I can't bring myself to do that to
her, to treat Rochelle like an idiot child when it's her daughter's life we're fighting for.

“...Tahira is alive, Rochelle. As long as she is alive, we have to fight for her.”

Rochelle lets out a shuddering breath and nods. “...Of course. You're right. ...Thank you,
Grayson.”
“Of course.”

The elevator dings again and the doors slide open. We step out into a plain, undecorated
hallway. Two tall, muscular young men stand in front of the conference room door, dressed in
plain white T-shirts and jeans with sunglasses covering their eyes. The slightly shorter one
turns his face toward me.

“Grayson Prescott?”

“That's me. And this is my associate Rochelle Rogers.”

The other man frowns slightly. “...Rogers?”

I blink. “Yes, that's right. And you are...?”

“...Security.” A different voice answers my question, masculine, with a lilting. upper-class

English accent. I turn to see a slim, pale young man in a crisp suit approaching from the other
end of the hallway. He smiles politely holding his hand out to me. “Everett Aleister Rourke II. A
pleasure to meet you.”

I accept his hand, shaking it. “Grayson Prescott. I am certain we must have met before, back
when your father and mine were...friendlier rivals.”

I see his smile twitch slightly. “Yes, I am sure we must have. But alas, as long ago as that was, I
fear I do not remember.” He turns his attention to Rochelle, shaking her hand. “You are
Rochelle Rogers?”

“Yes. ...I was an employee of Grayson's father for many years. I worked on the original design
for the Prism Gate twenty-five years ago.”

“I see. Well, let's not discuss business in the hallway. Everyone else has already settled inside. I
was just returning from the toilet. They're located just at the end of the hallway if you'd like to
make use before we begin?”

We both decline, and he shows us into the room. It's clearly designed to be used by any
company that utilizes this building, regardless of their size. The table is massive, somewhat
comically dwarfing the three woman lined up on one side at the far end. They rise to greet us as
Rochelle and I make our way to the other side of the table.

The first is a lithe, dark-haired woman with a scar over one eye, easily recognizable, but
Aleister introduces her anyway: “My sister and business partner, Estela Montoya.” As Estela
shakes our hands, he gestures to the other two women. “My wife, Grace Hall; and my chief of
security, Zahra Namazi.”

I shake their hands, taking them in. I can't help but feel the Rourke siblings are posturing a
little, particularly with the two bodyguards outside. Estela Montoya basically wears power like
a second skin, and Aleister Rourke's public presence is not that different from what his father's
used to be; that is, cool, easy, charming, and always giving the impression that he already
knows everyone's next move. The Rourke siblings don't have to work very hard to dominate
any room they're in. And yet, outside this room are two men who look like they could snap me
in half. And inside...well...inside, we have Grace Hall and Zahra Namazi. By the look of her,
Grace's name is well-chosen, and her bohemian style of dress lends her a gentle, maternal
quality. But behind her glasses, the look in her eyes reminds me why mothers shouldn't be
trifled with. Zahra, meanwhile, looks at us as in a way that makes me think she's the one
holding the leashes of the two bodyguards outside. Clearly, they believe a game of high stakes is
about to be played here.

I clear my throat. “Well...I suppose we should just...dive right in, if everyone is ready.”

“Indeed,” Estela agrees. “Well, since you were the one who called us here, perhaps you would
like to start?”

“Very well. As I mentioned over the phone, I'm here about the crystal that powered the Prism
Gate. Specifically, the fact that I have recently been informed that it came from La Huerta.”

“Yes. Our family's private island.”

“It was not private at the time,” I counter. “That is, it was privately owned by your father, yes.
But he was already intending to open it to tourists. My father and mother were there helping
him survey the site for his famous resort. My mother, a passionate archeologist, discovered the
crystal and brought it back as a souvenier. ...She didn't intend any harm. She never expected it
would be missed.”

“It wasn't,” Estela replies flatly. She pins me with her dark, steely gaze. “There were plenty
more.”

“Grayson!” I can't stop myself from wincing as Dax's voice suddenly sounds in my ear, shrill
with panic. “Something's jam--ing my—signa--”

His voice cuts out suddenly. All four pairs of eyes glare daggers at us across the table. Zahra lifts
her hand above the table, revealing a small silver orb cradled in her fingers. She sets it on the
table, stroking it almost lovingly with the tip of her index finger.

“Who was planning on listening in?” she demands icily. “We're not big fans of spies.”

“Hold on!” I protest. “No one here is a spy!”

“Then why were you bugged?” Grace snaps.

Before I can come up with a plausible explanation, Rochelle leaps to her feet, wringing her
hands.
“Please!” she cries. “This is for my daughter!”

The four across the table all pin her with a collective gaze.

“...Your daughter?” Grace repeats, her tone carefully casual, like a therapist asking, How do you
feel about that?

Rochelle meets Grace's eyes steadily. “...I am the mother of Dragonness. I am here because an
old woman with a bionic hand told me that the Eleven Catalysts stood between me and the
person whose help I need to bring her back home. Are you going to help me or not?”

Chapter 19: Grayson's Odyssey

Summary:
The Catalysts are keen to help Grayson and Rochelle bring Tahira home. But they want
something in return.
Chapter Text

Rochelle

Though they try to keep their reactions to a minimum, I can tell that my words have had an
effect on the four in front of me. My heart is wedged in my throat, and I can feel myself
trembling, but I don't back down, don't take my eyes off of Grace. She's going to be my biggest
ally here, I'm sure of it. She's a mother, too. But it's her husband who first breaks the silence.

“...You are Tahira Rogers' mother.”

I look sharply at Aleister, too startled to pretend I'm not. “...How...?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “Never mind how we know. We do know, and we have known
for awhile. We're not interested in exploiting her. But we are interested in getting her home.”

I frown, slowly sitting back down. “...The...the old woman...I never learned her name...”

“Her name wouldn't mean anything to you. She's only a messenger. In any case, she's dead now,
so let's leave her in peace for the moment.” He looks back at Grayson. “Would you kindly tell us
who you have listening in on our conversation?”
Grayson sizes Aleister up for a moment. “Dax Darcisse. An engineer who worked on the most
recent version of the Prism Gate. And Poppy Patel. A close friend of Tahira's. They both worked
very closely with her as Dragonness.”

Aleister seems to consider this for a moment. He looks over at Zahra, who shrugs. “It's your call,
boss. Yours and Estela's.”

“...I trust your judgment here, Aleister,” Estela declares. “But for my part, I'd rather not have
any secrets.”

“Hmm. ...Iris, are you able to commandeer the signal and patch us in?”

Before I can ask, the sphere under Zahra's fingers lights up. A beam of blue light flickers out
from a tiny lens on its side, taking the shape of a blue-tinted, holographic woman in the center
of the table. I feel my mouth hanging open.

“Audio feed...found,” she chirps. “No video feed available.”

“That's all right,” Aleister assures her. “We'll work with what we've got.”

Suddenly, although it is the hologram's lips that are moving, it's Dax's voice coming out of them.

“Grayson! Rochelle! I've got my signal back, I think. One of you cough twice if you can hear me!”

“We can hear you, Dax,” Grayson says. “...And...so can everyone else.”

“It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Dax,” Aleister says. “I am Everett Aleister Rourke
the Second. But please, call me Aleister.”

“...Wha...?”

“And I am Estela Montoya Rourke,” his sister adds. “Your signal was discovered by our chief of
security. In a situation as delicate as this, we would rather everyone hearing the conversation
have equal opportunity to be involved in it.”

“Wish you could see this,” Grayson remarks. “It's wild. They have a hologram woman speaking
in your voice. It's like Singin' in the Rain. But more high-tech.”
“Uh...well...I...”
“It's okay, Dax,” Grayson assures him. “Estela is right. ...Even if we're not laying all our cards on
the table right now, we should at least be open enough not to have anyone listening in without
the other party knowing. ...We are going to be speaking some secrets after all.”

“I quite agree,” Grace says. “I am Grace Hall Rourke, by the way. I'm Aleister's wife. Zahra, will
you introduce yourself?”
“Yo. I'm Zahra. The afforementioned security chief.”

“...I'm Poppy...” Poppy says, her voice coming from the hologram's lips. “...I'm listening, too.”

“All right. Now with all of that out of the way, we can return to business.” Aleister looks at
Grayson again. “To recap a little: we are aware of the origins of the Prism Crystal. We are aware
of Dragonness's civilian identity. We know who the old woman with the bionic hand is, but as
she is dead, I don't think there is any need to say much more about her right now.”

It takes me a moment to reorient myself, to remember what we were talking about before we
briefly lost contact with Dax. I clear my throat.

“...Mr. Prescott didn't think Mr. Rourke was aware of the crystals on La Huerta...”

“Oh, but he was, Ms. Rogers,” Aleister sighs. “I assure you he was. ...The fact of the matter is that
while I'm sure Silas Prescott knew more about what the Prism Crystal is capable of than he let
on to anyone, including his own scientists, there is a limit to what knowledge he could have
attained outside of the island. The Prism Crystal is...was...is...just a fraction of a much larger
puzzle. And in the grand scheme of things, its power is small. Limited.”

“...Our goal was to unlock its power for the betterment of mankind,” I murmur. “To create a
world where everyone was provided for.”

“I am sure that was your goal,” Aleister says gently.

“It was his, too,” I insist. “...At least...at first. ...Something changed after he lost his wife, though.”

Aleister regards me quietly for a moment. “...Perhaps you are right. But by the time the Prism
Gate was unveiled a few months ago, I have no doubt his goal had changed. Mr. Darcisse, you
worked on the most recent version of the Prism Gate, correct? Did anything you were asked to
do ever suggest a purpose other than the one he gave to the public?”

“...Not as such, no. The first time I ever saw it do anything at all was when Tahira first approached
it.”

“What happened then?”

“It...reacted. I don't know how else to describe it, except that while it had always seemed perfectly
stable before, it suddenly...wasn't. Suddenly, its energy levels started rising and falling erratically,
and it started...flickering.”

“...Ms. Rogers,” Estela cuts in. “This may seem like a personal question, but I have to ask it: are
you Tahira's biological mother?”

I look sharply at her. “...Why would you ask me that?”

“...You're looking for someone, and the Eleven Catalysts are in your way. ...If you know the first
thing about the person you are looking for and why that person can help you, then you know
why I am asking you whether you conceived Tahira, either naturally or artificially.”

I am quiet a moment. Even though my struggles to conceive the child I wanted so desperately
are a quarter of a century old by now, remembering them is still a knife in my heart. Working
for Silas Prescott, I had more than enough money to try every available option, but I still didn't
have a partner to struggle with me. When the sperm of anonymous donor after anonymous
donor failed to fashion life within me, I had to cry alone. When my first attempt at IVF didn't
take, when my second resulted in a miscarriage, friends were sympathetic, but there was no
one sharing my disappointment, my frustration. Applying to be an adoptive parent was its own
struggle. But the feeling of finally being approved was so exciting and terrifying and beautiful
that it reminded me of that one and only positive pregnancy test two years prior. And then the
day I finally received the papers proclaiming that the foundling child in my arms was
legally mine...

I try to focus on that feeling when I reply, “...No. I am not Tahira's biological mother.
She...legally, she was a foundling, whom I fostered and then adopted.”

I hesitate for only a moment before I slowly and carefully lay out the whole story for them, the
way I told it to Tahira only a month or so ago in the kitchen of my apartment, the apartment
where she had grown up. I tell them about the things that came through the portal, prism-
based matter unlike anything found on earth. How sometime after Helena Prescott's death, I
was alone in the lab late at night when I suddenly heard an infant wailing and found a naked
baby girl at the foot of the Prism Gate. ...How I fostered her and immediately began looking for a
job in academia, handing in my resignation as soon as I knew she was legally mine.

“...The old woman...she...” I trail off, hesitating. “...I'm sorry, could I please just know her name?
It feels strange calling her 'the old woman'.”

The four across the table exchange glances. Finally, Grace says, “We knew her as the Endless.”

I sigh. That isn't much less odd than the Old Woman, but if that is what she called herself, who
am I to argue. “The Endless said that her biological parents sent her through the portal to save
her life. That it was my longing for a child combined with their need to save theirs that allowed
her to pass through the Prism Gate.”

I see a subtle shift in their posture and expressions; a softening, tinged with sorrow. A shared
look passes between them, and there is something so loving in their eyes that I feel my throat
tighten. They collectively nod, and the gesture is somehow deep with understanding.

“...What else did the Endless tell you? About the person you're looking for?”

“Her name is Taylor. And she is Tahira's biological cousin. And that to get to Taylor, I have to go
through the Eleven Catalysts.”
The four of them start exchanging glances, nods, and shrugs again. Finally, Estela speaks again.

“We are four of the Eleven Catalysts. That makes us the first hurdle you need to cross. The thing
is...as we said before, the Prism Crystal is one piece of a much larger puzzle. There is a lot that
we could tell you about that puzzle. We and the other Catalysts spent six months on La Huerta,
up to our necks in its mysteries, and they've followed us like ghosts ever since.”

“You are looking for Taylor,” Grace continues. “Your daughter's cousin. She is a very big piece of
La Huerta's mysteries, and by extension, the Prism Crystal's mysteries. ...She is also more
precious to us than gold.”

“We want to bring Dragonness home,” Aleister says. “The Endless encouraged us to help you.
But she also warned us to be very careful who we trust.”

“Basically, we're not gonna give you Taylor until we're sure we can trust you,” Zahra concludes.
“And if you give us any reason to think you're gonna hurt her, we'll throw you to a pack of
wolves.”

“We don't want to hurt anyone,” Grayson says firmly.

“I'm sure you don't,” Aleister says placatingly. “However. Before we can take matters further,
we need something from you.”

“...What do you need?”

Zahra slides a tablet across the table toward us. There is an image on the screen, of something
in a display case, a small gold-colored statue. It's vaguely familiar to me. I think I've seen it in
Mr. Prescott's private collection. Grayson clearly recognizes it.

“...The...idol from my father's collection? ...Do you know what it is?”

“We know what it is,” Zahra confirms. “We want it, and any others like it that you know of.”

“I only know of the one. ...What is it?”

“It is something else that was taken from La Huerta. Another piece of its mystery.” After
pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Estela adds, “It's called the Cygnus Idol.”

“Cygnus? As in swans?”

“Correct.”

“...What is it for?”
“That is not for you to know,” Estela says firmly. “Not yet. Possibly not ever. What you need to
know now is that it belongs to the Catalysts, and we want it back.”

I feel Grayson bristling beside me, and I don't blame him. “And what would we get in exchange?
Access to Taylor?”

Estela narrows her eyes. “You'll get the continued hope of ever getting access to Taylor,” she
answers lowly. “Or you will get nothing.”

“You must be very sure you've got us over a barrel if you're willing to go all or nothing over that
idol,” Grayson says coldly. “I thought you wanted to help us get Tahira back.”

“Let's neither of us pretend we're less invested than we are. Taylor and Tahira are both more
valuable to both our parties than the idol is to either. But here is the difference: Your party
loves Tahira, needs Taylor to bring Tahira back, and has no use for the idol. Our party is
fighting for Tahira because the Endless told us to fight for her. Our party loves Taylor as much
as yours loves Tahira, and we're not willing to put her in harm's way. Our party also knows
what the idol is, what its purpose is, and we value it enough that its safe return can be your
passport just a little bit deeper into our world.”

“...How much deeper?”

“...Give us the idol, and...” she pauses a moment, considering, “...four days. Then we'll introduce
you to two more Catalysts. ...And we may have a little more information for you regarding La
Huerta.”

I grit my teeth, balling up fistfuls of my skirt in my lap. Grayson sighs.

“You clearly mean to turn this into Homer's Odyssey,” he grumbles.

“Unfortunately, it was our father who first taunted the gods,” Aleister sighs ruefully. “And
yours. You, Rochelle, the Catalysts, even Tahira and Taylor...we're just the ones bearing the
consequences.”

“Well...you are correct when you say that I don't have any use for that idol. But there is a
problem: the idol was stolen at the Prescott Masquerade a couple weeks ago.”

“We know,” Estela replies. “And given the thief's methods, her identity seems pretty obvious. At
least, her public identity. She almost certainly intended to sell the idol.”

“Unless she intended to repurpose the amber its made of.”

“She might end up with a pretty nasty surprise if she tried that. ...I suggest you start looking in
pawn shops.”

Grayson arches an eyebrow. “You couldn't do that yourselves?”

“The name Rourke doesn't have nearly the clout in this city as Prescott. Besides, consider this a
gesture of good faith on your part.”

“...Besides that,” Dax adds, “I actually know where to start. ...What if we were to leave it here for
now, while I track down the idol?”

After a few minutes, we all reluctantly agree to Dax's suggestion. I don't want to leave without
getting a little more out of the Catalysts. But I can see they are going to be as difficult as the
Endless. Still, as we're being shown out, I take a chance and lay a hand on Grace's arm,
capturing her gaze with mine.

“...Please. ...I know you're trying to protect someone important to you. But please, as all of this
goes on, don't forget that this is about bringing my child home.”

Grace purses her lips, nodding curtly. “I'm not going to forget. I promise.”

And I believe her. But I also believe that she will still throw me to the wolves if I give her any
reason to think I mean to hurt Taylor. We are both mothers, and we understand each other. But
whoever this Taylor is, she will always be more important to Grace than my daughter.

Sean

Craig and I keep up the bodyguard act until Aleister has seen Grayson Prescott and Rochelle
Rogers into the elevator. As soon as I'm sure they're on their way to the lobby, I slip off the
sunglasses and rub my eyes.

“So, how did it go in there?”

Aleister turns back to us, his lips pursed tightly. “I'm not entirely sure,” he replies. “Estela
struck a bargain I was only half-expecting.”

“Uh...what?”

“Come inside. We'll fill you two in.”

Craig and I follow him back into the conference room, where he and the women sum up the
meeting for us.

“I'm assuming...Craig and I are the two other Catalysts you intend to introduce at the next
meeting?” I ask Estela. She nods.
“Provided they come through with the Cygnus idol.”

“What I am wondering is what you plan to do over those four days you asked for,” Aleister says.
“And what other information you think we ought to give them.”

“The information we give them will depend on what we find out over those four days,” Estela
replies. “...Eventually, I think we're not going to have a choice except to bring Taylor to
Northbridge. But I'd like it if we could keep her out of the city as long as possible.”

“No one is going to argue with you there,” I agree.

“But we also need to figure out how much power the idol still has. Grayson says he only knows
of the Cygnus idol, but who knows if more of them somehow managed to escape the time
bubble. So, I think once we have the idol in hand, Grace should fly to California with it. To test
it.”

Grace nods slowly. “...Okay, that's probably doable...”

“...I figure we'll give them some version of what the idols are, and what they're for. We can
decide exactly how much to tell them when we know whether the idol is still...functional.”

“What concerns me,” Aleister murmurs, “are the implications if the idol does happen to be
functional.”

“We won't be able to deal with that until we know. And we won't know until Grace, Taylor, and
the idol are in a room together. And maybe by then we'll know a little more about Grayson
Prescott's motives.”

Dax

“What?! No! No way!”

Eva scowls at me, crossing her arms over her chest. She looks like a child about to throw a
tantrum, which is not a look I am used to seeing on her. I can't really enjoy it, though,
considering what she's protesting. I scowl back.

“I'm just asking where you sold it! I'm not asking you to turn yourself in or return the money,
just direct us so that we can buy it back!”

“I can't!”
“Why the heck not?!”

Eva squirms, whining a little and pouting. “...Because I never actually sold it,” she mutters.

“...Wait, what?”

“I never got around to it, okay?! I didn't have time, what with Tahira recruiting me to team
Goody Two-Shoes!”

“Well, that's even better!” Poppy declares brightly. “Just give it to us, and we'll get it to the
Rourkes!”

“If I give it to you, I won't get it back.”

“Well, no. You wouldn't.”

“It's worth a lot of money, you know.”

“Is it worth more than Tahira?” I snap. “Because that's what you're saying if you refuse to give it
to us!”

Eva groans. “Ugh! Fine. They can have the stupid thing. But only because it's for Tahira!”

***

At The Grand, in the hours before opening, Poppy and I join Grayson and Rochelle to meet with
the Rourke entourage again. The siblings are there, plus Aleister's wife, and their security chief.
Also, the two beefed up bodyguards Grayson mentioned. Not that they're really necessary. I
think Estela Montoya could take us all on herself. She's the one who steps forward, her dark
eyes narrowed sternly as she takes each of us in.

“Do you have it?”

Grayson hands her the crushed velvet drawstring bag containing the small amber idol. Estela
opens the bag and draws out the idol. The expressions on the faces of the Rourke entourage are
honestly a little unsettling. Clearly the idol is more than just a piece of pretty to them. They
treat it with reverence, and a little bit of fear. ...And sorrow, I think. Grace swallows hard as
Estela passes it to her, eyes shimmering behind her glasses.

“...Thank you,” Estela says softly. “We will meet with you again in four days. Right here, at the
same time, and we'll have the next two Catalysts with us.”

“...Just like that?” I blurt out.

“You brought us the idol, didn't you?”

“Well, yes. It's right there. I mean...” I feel suddenly nervous. I can feel my cheeks growing warm
under her stern gaze. I should stop talking. “...That...is what you're looking for, right?”

“Unless you've tried to trick us with a forgery,” she replies, raising an eyebrow at me.

“What?! No! Of course not!”

A hint of a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. Behind her, Zahra snorts with barely
concealed laughter. I'm not sure, but it feels like good laughter.

“There is no artist, no sculpter, no jewel-cutter within your reach who could craft a forgery that
would fool a Catalyst,” Estela informs me. “None of them would have access to amber like the
stuff this idol was cut from. You've upheld your end of the bargain. We'll uphold ours. But we
need four days. Same time, same place, four days from now.”

Diego

“...I don't like this,” Jake says for the umpteenth time as he paces the living room of the beach
house.

“I don't like it either,” Allie replies irritably. “I feel like I'm waiting to learn if our baby has a
heartbeat all over again. Or waiting to see if those tests I had in Northbridge reveal anything
that would give me away...”

“...Or waiting to hear if the judge would rule in my favor,” Jake murmurs. Allie shudders.

“Exactly. Now would you kindly stop wearing holes in the floor? Come hold me, okay?” She
holds her arms out to her husband, who obediently comes to sit beside her on the couch. She
sinks down to lay her head on his lap, letting him run his fingers through her cornsilk hair.
Varyyn comes up behind my chair and places his powerful hands on my shoulders, massaging
them absently. The gesture startles me slightly, but it's hard not to relax into his expert touch.

“Ohhh, god, that's amazing...” I mumble, feeling my eyes roll back slightly. I guess my expression
must be pretty comical, because Allie actually cracks a small smile watching me.

“Careful, Varyyn. Your husband looks like he's going to turn into jelly there.”

“I absolutely am,” I agree, letting my eyes fall closed. “Keep it up, sweetheart.”

“...Is there really a possibility that the idol will be functional?” Varyyn wonders aloud. Allie
grimaces.
“Please don't use that word. The Endless used that word to describe an idol whose Catalyst was
alive. ...A non-functional idol meant that someone was dead.”

Varyyn's hands pause for just an instant. “...Active, then. Is there truly a chance it will be
active?”

“I don't know. This is uncharted territory. I thought the idols were all basically destroyed at the
Threshold. I don't know exactly how this one is still around, I don't know what it will mean if it
is still active.”

The elegant chime of the front doorbell reverberates through the house. Allie sits up sharply.
Jake puts a hand on her shoulder.

“That'll be Mike with Grace and Aleister. I got it.” Even as he says that, we all follow him into the
front foyer anyway. He opens the door, admitting our friends. Tellingly, neither Grace nor
Aleister gawk at the grandeur of the Fishers' beach house, where Allie and I are currently living
with our husbands. It's probably not much different from the homes they grew up in as the
children of CEO's.

“Come in, please,” Allie says, her smile a little too bright. “Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Tea?
Water? Lemonade? Soda? Beer?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Aleister says.

“Just water,” Mike adds.

“I'll take a lemonade,” Grace says.

“Diego, Varyyn, why don't you show them to the living room, and I'll give Taylor a hand in the
kitchen.” I nod at Jake, doing as he tells me, but I can't help throwing a worried look over my
shoulder.

“...It's not inactive,” Grace murmurs as soon as we're in the living room. “Being so close to
Taylor, I can already tell. ...It's calling me, just like it did then.”

Aleister and I exchange glances. We both know the feeling. The weird tingling and itching in the
back of the mind, the feeling that's almost like being watched, a pull toward the idol that's like a
siren's song, or a cry for help that you can't ignore. It seemed to calm down slightly once Allie
had touched the idol with us. That was another thing we all agreed later was a fact of the idols:
they kept calling, kept stirring us until we handed them to our leader, once we'd both had our
hands on the amber at the same time. Once she had been shown what she needed to see, the
feeling that followed was a euphoric sense of relief. ...At least...for the Catalyst depicted by the
idol. For Allie it had to have been a nightmare. Even before I knew what the idols were showing
her, I had seen the strain. The way she flinched at the slightest noise, crying at the drop of a hat.
At one point, I was honestly afraid the stress was going to kill her, if not the island itself.
She's smiling when she and Jake come back with everyone's drinks, the same falsely bright
smile as before, but it's starting to waver.

“I haven't been able to get enough of this lemonade,” she remarks as she passes a glass of the
stuff to Grace and sets another one down in front of herself. “You can tell me if it's actually any
good, or if it's probably just a pregnancy craving...”

“Um...Allie?” I catch her eye and she flushes guiltily. In spite of Jake and Grace leaving a space
between them for her on the couch, she's chosen to sit in one of the armchairs. Jake pats the
cushion beside him.

“Come sit by me, Princess,” he says gently. “Let's get this over with.”

She looks so small and scared as she slinks over to the couch that I feel like I could cry. I would
come hold her hand, but Jake seems to have that covered, and she'll need at least one hand free
to touch the idol. Jake slides his arm around her waist and twines the fingers of his other hand
through hers.

“It's okay,” he murmurs into her hair. “I'm right here.”

She nods slowly, drawing in a deep breath. “...I'm ready.” It's a lie, but I think she knows she's
never really going to be ready. Grace draws the idol out of her bag and holds it up between
them. Steeling herself, Allie lifts a hand to delicately lay a finger on its amber surface. It's only a
second before she snatches her hand away. I don't even need to ask if she saw anything. I can
see the tears forming in her eyes, and my heart sinks. She curls into Jake, trembling and
whimpering. He clutches her to him, rocking her and murmuring into her hair.

“...What did you see?” Grace dares to ask. It takes a moment for Allie to answer, but finally, she
sits up, wiping her eyes.

“...Nothing new. It's the same as it was before. I suppose that was the timeline where the
Endless...where she...extracted blood to form the psychic link...”

“...What happened? ...To me, I mean...”

“Grace...” Aleister murmurs. “Are you sure you want to...?”

“I'm just curious. I can't help being a little curious.”

“...You were trying to disarm a bomb somewhere under Mount Atropo. But...” She trails off,
swallowing. “...You panicked...”

Grace's expression is a little hard to read, but there's something like disappointment in her
eyes. “Oh...”
Abruptly, Allie breaks away from Jake to pull Grace into a crushing embrace. Grace squeaks in
surprise, but she brings her arms up to hug back.

“Jesus God, Grace!” Allie sobs. “How the hell did it take so long for anyone to tell you how
incredible you are?! All those people you had pushing and pressing you to be better and
smarter and aim higher, and not one of them ever thought to tell you they were glad just
to know you?! Didn't anyone realize how lucky they were that you were in their lives at all?!”

“...I did...” Aleister says softly.

Through her tears, Allie glares at him over Grace's shoulder. “And how long did it take you
to tell her as much?”

“Far too long,” he readily admits, cracking a wry smile.

“You're so precious, Grace. All your virtues and vices and strengths and weaknesses and talents
and flaws are miracles.”

Grace rubs Allie's back gently. “...Thank you, Taylor...” she whispers, her voice thick with tears.
For a long time, everyone is silent. It's Mike who finally breaks it, clearing his throat.

“So...what did we actually learn here?”

Allie releases Grace, sitting back carefully. “...We learned that the idol is still active, even though
the Endless is dead. But it didn't tell me anything new, so it hasn't been...repurposed.”

Aleister nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “...What was it the Endless said about the power
inside the Prism Crystal? That it was your life energy within? Or a piece of it, anyway?”

“That's right,” she confirms. “A piece of my life energy fused with the crystal on the day I was
born inside the time bubble. ...I would guess that's why it survived while the rest of the crystals
were taken back with Vaanu.”

“...I wonder,” Varyyn murmurs, “...If that is how Elyys'tel and the guardians were able to
survive?”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well...consider the fact that Elyys'tel, and indeed all of La Huerta, was nurtured by the Island's
Heart, which contained Vaanu's consciousness. ...Deprived of nurture, surely Elyys'tel would
have withered by now. The timelines merged and the anomalies were removed, but Murphy
and T'kal and the Vaanti still survived. If that piece of Vaanu's true daughter was left behind,
small though it was, perhaps it was enough...”

“...Then...I am supposed to be here...” Allie murmurs.

“I don't think anyone here is going to argue with that,” Grace replies.

“No...but you see, I was always supposed to be here. Even in the timeline where I didn't exist
before the island, there was a timeline where I did. It's why Diego had such vivid memories of
our childhood together, even though it didn't exist yet. Why he was able to imagine me in such
detail. It's why Sean could remember seeing me doing handstands in the bleachers at Hartfeld
Stadium.” She starts to laugh. The sound is a little wild, but it's also so genuinely joyful that I
feel like it's lifting a weight off my chest that's been there since she first turned up on the beach.
“I was phase-shifting! For twenty-two years, I was phase-shifting! Until the right circumstances,
the right set of decisions finally stabilized the timelines.”

“...Such as you finally making the decision to join with Vaanu so that he could escape his
prison,” Aleister muses. “Which allowed him to assume human form so that he could sire you in
the repaired timeline. ...But you still had to make that decision within the time bubble to exist
outside of it.”

She nods. “My consciousness was sealed in that crystal. ...I suppose I was broken the same way
Vaanu was, if not as dramatically. ...Maybe it's more akin to the way your mother was preserved
as Iris.” She looks absently down at her hands as she speaks, flexing her fingers. “That crystal
preserved my consciousness until it came in contact with someone from my alien family.
And...somehow, that connection was able to bring me back.”

“But you were still kinda phase-shifting for awhile there,” I muse. “I mean, the first hint I got
you were coming back was a picture of us as kids, and when I asked Mama about it, she couldn't
even remember your name. But by the time you were physically back in Riverside, she was
talking about praying to San Antonio every year to bring you back and yelling at us for going
swimming instead of telling her you were alive.”

She meets my eyes and smiles. “Of course. My alien family may have given me the physical
ability to come back, but only my human family all gathered together could actually allow me to
manifest. Only the people who first willed me into being could finally will me back once the
conditions were right for it.”

“Perhaps Estela was right,” Aleister murmurs. “There is some magic left on La Huerta after all.”

“Don't matter to me how it happened,” Jake declares, drawing Allie into his arms. “All I care
about is that you're with me.”

She closes her eyes, nestling into his embrace. “...Right where I'm supposed to be.”

***

Grace and Aleister clear out by the evening. They don't have time to linger. They've got an
important task back in Northbridge, making sure that in the quest to bring Dragonness home,
no one gets to Allie who might hurt her. We're all left reeling a little from the discovery that the
idol is active, but somehow the revelation doesn't seem all that troubling now that we know.
The fact is that it offered no new information. It was crafted to show Allie particular scenes, and
it's still doing what it was made to do. Nothing more or less. I know Allie's still worried about
the fact that the others might have made it off the island. She doesn't relish the idea of watching
us all die again. But this time, at least she would know that she wasn't seeing a future she
needed to prevent; only a past that she had already repaired.

Sometime after dinner, I find her out on the deck overlooking the beach, reclined on a lounge
chair, gazing up at the sky. I open the door and step out onto the deck, where I'm greeted by
warm, moist air that smells of saltwater, and the soft whisper of the Pacific Ocean as lazy waves
break over the shore.

“Hey. Is this a private party out here?”

She turns to smile at me. “Not at all. Pull up a chair.” I stretch out on a chair beside her, lacing
my fingers behind my head.

“You holding up okay? ...I know it had to be scary, reliving that vision.”

She shrugs, sighing. “Yeah...it was. ...But I'm kinda getting used to that kind of scary. ...Honestly,
finally feeling confident that this existence isn't going to be snatched away from me...finally
feeling like I'm meant to live out the rest of my life with all of you in this world...that's
overpowering the scary right now.”

“Well, that's heartening to hear.”

“...I want to tell your parents about the baby. They practically raised me, I think they deserve to
know. And they deserve to hear it from me, not find out a few months down the line when they
happen to run into me and I'm sporting a little basketball under my shirt.”

I chuckle a little. “Mama's not going to be pleased about the fact that you and Jake aren't legally
married.”

She grins. “Even if I could tell her about the handfasting, it wouldn't help. If it were up to Mama,
I'd be married on my knees in a full Catholic mass, complete with an Ave Maria.”

“If it were up to Mama, you would have had a full-blown quinceañera when you were fifteen.
Face it, if she could have, Mama would have stolen you from your aunt and uncle and brought
you up entirely as her own. ...And if you promise that your baby will call her Abuelita, I think
she'll forgive you for getting knocked up without a ring on your finger.”

Allie laughs. “Oh, you know my baby was always going to call her Abuelita.” She sighs, leaning
back in her chair. “...God, I can't tell you how badly I want peanut butter right now.”

“Peanut butter, huh? Crunchy or smooth?”

“Smooth. ...I want it on crackers. Or in cookie form. Or straight out of the jar. I don't care, I just
want peanut butter.”

“You want jelly with that?”

She makes a face. “Good god, no.”

I have to laugh at that. “Your baby's making you weird. Come on, let's see what's in the kitchen.”

Grayson

Four days later, the Rourke entourage shows up at The Grand, as promised, in the hours before
opening. It's the same six; the Rourke siblings, Aleister's wife, their chief of security, and their
two bodyguards. And I have Rochelle, Dax, and Poppy.

“Have you...done what you needed to with the idol?”

“We have,” Aleister confirms. “You did well for us, and we think you deserve to know a little
more.”

“Well. I'm all ears.”

“The amber Catalyst idols were forged by the Endless. Their purpose was to guide Taylor to a
particular place on La Huerta called the Threshold. The significance of the Threshold is a long
story that isn't really relevant right now, but that's what they were made for. Touching the
idols brought Taylor visions, and the visions helped guide her to the Threshold. Each one was
forged from a species of pure amber found only on La Huerta—and another ingrediant,
necessary to establish a psychic link between Taylor and the Catalyst represented by the idol.”

“...Which was...?”

“...Said Catalyst's blood.”

“...Oh.” There's really not much more I can say to that. I turn my focus elsewhere. “...So...each
idol represents a different Catalyst?”

“Correct. Each Catalyst is represented by a constellation. The one your father had acquired, the
Cygnus idol, represents Grace. Mine is Serpens, the Snake. Estela is the Dragon, Draco; and
Zahra is Corvus, the Crow. There are twelve in all.”

“Twelve!” Rochelle exclaims. “But...I thought there were Eleven Catalysts.”

“You will have to go through Eleven Catalysts to reach Taylor,” Estela confirms. “...Taylor, who
is the Twelfth Catalyst.”

“...And what is Taylor's constellation?”

Estela meets her eyes, holding her gaze. “Andromeda.”

Rochelle and I exchange glances. I'm familiar enough with classic mythology to feel a sense of
sadness at that revelation. And perhaps to understand better why her friends are being so
protective of her. I can't imagine the constellations were chosen arbitrarily.

“What exactly are you Catalysts of?” Dax asks.

“That's something else that isn't currently relevant,” Estela replies firmly. “We promised you a
little more information, and that you would meet two more Catalysts today.”

She gestures to the two bodyguards, who step forward and remove their sunglasses. Aleister
gestures to each in turn.

“Meet Ursa, the Bear. And the Eagle, Aquila. A.k.a. Craig Hsiao and Sean Gayle.” He turns to
smile at me. “Congratulations, Odysseus. You are halfway to Ithaca.”

Chapter 20: A Tangled Web

Summary:
Negotiations between Grayson and the Catalysts continue. Meanwhile, Rourke is plotting.
Chapter Text

Grayson
“Oh my god!” Poppy yelps. “Are you the Sean Gayle?!”

“Which Sean Gayle?” Dax asks, frowning.

“Only the Condors' star quarterback! I know you're not into sports, but haven't you at least
played the UltraBowl video games?”

“If I don't want to play sports in real life, I'm not sure why I would want to play them on a video
game, either,” Dax retorts. “...Did I know you liked football?”

“Probably not. There's a lot you don't know about me yet.” She winks at him. “I'm a woman of
mystery.”
Sean Gayle clears his throat. “Okay, yes. I do play for the Condors. But that's not why I'm here.
I'm here as Aquila. One of the Twelve Catalysts. And I'm here as Sean. Taylor's friend. It's why
all six of us are here. Because you want to use Taylor to bring back Tahira.”

“It isn't that we want to use her,” I protest. “But we need her to--”

“I know. I know. And I sympathize. But we don't know yet if she could get hurt by this. We
probably won't know until we've actually brought Taylor into it.” He glances at his companions.
“We all believe Dragonness is worth the risk. I know Taylor believes it, too. But given the risk,
we just can't bring Taylor into it until all of us are sure we can trust you.”

“It isn't just Taylor at stake, either,” Aleister adds. “As we explained before, the Prism Crystal is
one piece of a much larger mystery. You could call us paranoid, and you'd be absolutely right.
But we've seen what La Huerta's secrets can do when they fall into the wrong hands. ...And we
already lost Taylor once.”

“Understand that we are committed to helping you,” Grace says. “But before you meet Taylor,
every one of us is going to meet you. You're going to learn what she means to us. Because in the
event that she comes to harm because of this...you need to understand exactly what you're
asking us to risk. And we all need to know that you understand.”

“How do we convince you of that?” I ask, impatience and frustration barely concealed in my
voice. They go on and on about what they're risking, but they don't have any idea what they'd
really be gaining by bringing Tahira home.

Sean seems to sense my resentment. He looks into my eyes, holding my gaze. “...In many ways,
La Huerta was a nightmare. We were never safe. We were often suffering. But through it all, we
had each other. We had each other and we had Taylor. She was our leader, and every one of us
was improved for knowing her. She was our hope.” He draws in a steadying breath, suddenly
looking a little apprehensive. “...I had spent most of my life up to that point trying to be a hero.
Not for the glory of it, but because I didn't believe I could trust anyone else. I thought it was on
me to make sure the people I cared about never got hurt. I wanted to prove to the world that I
was a better man than my abusive father. ...But somewhere along the way, that turned into me
holding myself and everyone else to impossible standards. I became unforgiving, and I almost
lost the love of my life because of it. Taylor taught me how to let go. She gave me the courage to
trust.”

“We were all some kind of broken when we came to that island,” Zahra murmurs. “Misfits in
one way or another, trying to figure out our lives. I was still stuck thinking that everyone was
out for themselves. But you can't help but question that when someone invests in you like she
invested in me. In all of us. She didn't deserve any of the crap that island threw at her.”

“I went to La Huerta on a mission of revenge,” Estela says. “I had shut out everything except
that goal. ...I didn't actively want to frighten people off, but I had grown used to the idea that
people were going to be afraid of me. ...Taylor never was. I stayed human because of her. And in
the end, she prevented me from making what would have been the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Me, I was scared of the future,” Craig sighs. “I'd been a football star for awhile in college, but
wasn't up to pro level. Soon as that became clear, I started giving up. I had never been good at
school or anything like that, and without the game, I just didn't know what there was for me.
...But she didn't know what was coming for her, either. Every time the rest of us were starting
to give up, she could give a speech to get us all back on our feet. She never let on how scared
she was. ...We all thought Rourke killed her. ...I think she figured out he was coming for her,
because I remember the last night we saw her five years ago, she made one last speech about
what we all meant to her. Said she wasn't afraid...”

Zahra covers his hand with hers. “She might've been lying. But she made us believe it. ...It was
probably the only flat-out lie she ever told us. She didn't usually hold back telling us what we
needed to hear. She was always good at figuring that out.”

“...My whole life, my mother pushed me to be the best in everything,” Grace adds. “I arrived on
La Huerta a nervous, neurotic, insecure mess. Every uncertainty sent me into a spiral of fear
and shame because I wasn't supposed to be uncertain about anything. Taylor never acted
surprised when I faced something that I couldn't handle. She never scolded me or acted
disapproving. My weaknesses and mistakes never weighed more than my successes with her.”

“No one's mistakes count more than their virtues with her,” Aleister agrees. “If your good
intentions are paving the road to hell, she will certainly call you out. If you have no virtues to
speak of, she won't hesitate to take you down. But if there is even a chance of saving you, she'll
crawl through the hell you created to do it. ...I made a horrible mistake on La Huerta, falling
victim to my father's manipulation and betraying everyone. At the time, she spat in my face. But
when next we met, she begged me to come back with her. Once I came to my senses, she never
rubbed salt in the wound. I was forgiven, and that was all there was to it.”

“She does sound like an amazing person,” I concede. “...But so is Tahira.”

“...We know. We were all watching when she sacrificed herself to save the city. We're not
disputing her heroism or her goodness.”

I am quiet for a moment. Thoughtful. “...All right. I accept that you all need to be more certain of
everything before you bring someone as important to you as Taylor into this situation.
So...what would it be worth if I brought Tahira's allies into this? If I let Talos and Minuet plead
their case for Tahira, too?”

The six Catalysts take a moment to huddle up and discuss my offer. Rochelle steps nervously up
to me.

“Do you really think they'll help?” she whispers.

Dax smiles a little. “For Tahira? Absolutely.”

The Catalysts break their huddle. “All right, you have a deal. Bring Talos and Minuet to the next
meeting, and we'll bring Delphinus, Centaurus, and Pavo. They're the last three Catalysts in
Northbridge.”

“...Then...that would bring us up to nine,” Rochelle says, her voice hopeful.

“It would,” Estela agrees. “...But don't get cavalier. The last hurdle will be Canis and Lupus. And
they love Taylor more than the rest of us put together.”

Jake

Under the evening sky, wrapped in the warm, salty breeze wafting off the Pacific, I lean back in
a lounge chair, cinching my arms gently around my wife's waist. She's reclined against my chest
with a bowl of grapes and apple slices balanced on her lap, my legs wrapped around her
bobsled-style. We had dinner with Diego's folks this evening, to tell them about the baby. It
went about as well as we could have hoped for, according to Diego and Taylor. His mom fretted
and wrung her hands awhile about the fact that I haven't put a ring on Taylor's finger yet, but
then Taylor promised the baby would call her Abuelita, and that made everything acceptable.

I nuzzle Taylor's neck, inhaling the flowery scent of her body lotion. I let one hand creep up to
cup her breast, but she gently takes my wrist and moves it back to her belly.

“Not now, Jake. I'm pretty tender there right now.”

“Ahh, right. You should tell your boobs it's a little early to be making milk.”

She snorts. “I think my boobs know what they're doing, thank you very much. I do wish they
didn't hurt so much. You know I normally love it when you cop a feel.”

“Well, I don't have to grab your boobs.” I tug her T-shirt out of the waistband of her jeans and
let my hand rest on her belly, rubbing in gentle, slow circles. “I could give Baby a little love...”

“River.”

“...River?”

She closes her eyes, letting her head fall back onto my shoulder. “...That's the baby's name.
River Skye McKenzie.”

“Is that for a boy or a girl?”

“Either one.”

I turn the name over in my mind for a moment. “River Skye McKenzie,” I murmur, tasting the
name carefully. “I think I like it. Why River Skye, though?”

“This baby is us. You and me. It's the two of us together, loving each other. I want the baby to
have a name that reflects that. I was thinking of moments we shared, moments that stood out to
me, and my mind kept coming back to that time beside the river. The one inside the rift where
we hid while the rainforest burned outside. ...I had just met the Endless at the Threshold.
Except for you and Estela, everyone was missing. I didn't know if anyone was hurt or captured.
I knew that Rourke would be coming after everyone. Trying to...tie up loose ends. ...But just for
a moment, beside that river, nothing mattered except you and me.”

“...I remember that moment. I was all cut up about Mike. But I'd gotten you back, and for a
moment, that was enough. ...And then you promised me we'd get Mike back, and I loved you
more than ever.”

“...That's one of my favorite memories of us. That's why I want to name our baby River.”

“And Skye?”

She chuckles, bringing my hand up to press her lips to my palm. “Where we first met.”

I laugh. “I suppose 'Plane' is a tacky middle name. And I think if we have a son, he'd hate us if
we gave him the name 'Delilah', even as a middle name.”

“...So...you approve of my choice?”

I tip her face toward mine and capture her mouth in a kiss. “I love it,” I assure her when we
break apart, stroking her cheek with my forefinger. “...Are you content with our baby having my
surname? Legally, you're still a Chandler.”

She shrugs. “What the hell is Chandler, though? A name my father made up when he assumed
human form?”

“Or the name Diego dreamed up for you.”

“Hmm, that is a fair point. ...Still...it doesn't mean as much to me as McKenzie. If we ever do
legally marry, I'll become Taylor McKenzie in a heartbeat.” She sighs, nuzzling into me. “...I can't
believe it's already September. Diego's class starts on Monday...”

“Summer is just about over,” I agree. The words are out of my mouth before I consider them,
and I hear my voice falter just a little. ...Her last message to the Catalysts still exists. What she
thought would be her last message. ...Our summer is over, but another will come soon...
If she is aware of my sudden change in mood, she doesn't let on. “Luckily, this is southern
California, so it's going to feel like summer until December. And even then, it won't really get
cold.”

“Yeah. It's the same deal in Louisiana.”

“My first winter at Hartfeld was quite an experience. Autumn was incredible and beautiful with
the leaves changing, but then it just kept getting colder. And then came the snow. I mean, I had
seen snow before, but never so much of it in one place. Not to mention that it was still cold even
when it wasn't snowing, and there wasn't really any way to escape it. There wasn't just one or
two cold days and then it got back up to something more tolerable. Diego and I spent most of
winter term freshman year under a blanket in his dorm room watching The Crown and the
Flame and whining about the weather.”

“You're lucky you had someone to whine with,” I reply, planting a kiss on her neck. “The
Academy in Annapolis was the first taste I had of a real northern winter. The whole reason
Mike calls me Grandpa is because he said I sounded like an old man grumbling about how cold I
was all the time.”

“Aww, poor Top Gun,” she cooes. “You're lucky you fell in love with a California girl.”

I close my eyes and let my cheek rest on top of her head, sighing contentedly. “I'm lucky my
California girl fell in love with me.”

“You made it easy.”

I snort. “Liar.”

“No, I mean it. You can pretend you were all misanthropic and self-interested, but you were
always kind.”

To you, maybe. I don't say that aloud, but it's true. Maybe I was never actively malicious or
cruel, but I could be a callous jerk to the rest of them at the start. Especially Sean. But Taylor...I
couldn't be callous with her. Who knows if it was just some unconscious understanding of her
importance or what, but from the start, I had to fight for her. Fight for that idealistic fire
burning in her eyes. That confidence and determination. I had to nurture her, to nurse the
flame so she could shine brighter and stronger. I had to protect her. Hell, maybe I already loved
her. From the moment she called me Top Gun...

“Well, you know how it is, Princess. You bring out the best in me. I ain't never gonna believe I'm
half of what you deserve, but that you still choose me only makes me cherish you more.”

“...I chose you over more than two-thousand lifetimes, Jacob Lucas McKenzie. I will choose you
over two-thousand more. No land, no sea...”

I finish her sentence, murmuring it like a prayer. “...No one will keep us apart.”
Everett Rourke

Oh, this is interesting. Very interesting. Quite an intriguing development. So much so that I can
hardly believe it's real.

“I must consider this,” I murmur into my disguised phone.

“There is...something more, sir,” Lila ventures timidly. “Taylor is pregnant.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Impressive. I would not have imagined it possible for such a hybrid as herself to conceive with
a human. I suppose Jacob McKenzie is the father.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I must consider this as well. The implications...what it could mean...”

“What implications...?”

“I am not sure just yet. How far gone is she? It cannot be more than two months.”

“It's not. I believe she's only about nine or ten weeks gone.”
“We have time enough then to consider how this will affect the situation. Perhaps this should
go without saying, but do not attempt to take any steps against the child. It could be useful to
us, and I do not want it destroyed.”
“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now, I must make another call. Continue as you were. Report any important
developments, but otherwise, you are to wait for my instructions. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

I disconnect the call and immediately place another. I do not expect she will be pleased to hear
from me. Perhaps she will even attempt to ignore me. But I cannot allow that. And it is not as if
she can block me. This device was designed with a workaround to that little problem. Finally, I
hear her voice, an angry growl in my ear.
“Who are you?” she snarls. “And why do you keep calling me? This had better be important, or I
will have you placed under arrest for harrassment so fast your head will spin!”

“Unnecessary, my dear Ms. Hall. I am already safely locked away from society.” I pause, feeling a
smirk on my lips. “...It is Ms. that you go by these days, isn't it? For all that you kept Mason
Hall's surname, you don't mean to imply that you are still married, do you.”

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “...Everett Rourke Senior, I presume,” she finally
says, her voice tight with irritation. “Your...singular charm is unmistakeable.”

“Please, call me Everett. Really, I ought to be calling you Blair, as well.”

“Don't you dare, Rourke.”

“Come now, Blair. Our children are married. We have a grandchild in common. We are
practically family. Are you saying that doesn't put us on a first-name basis?”

“It absolutely does not,” she says firmly. “I doubt either of us are very welcome in our grandson's
life, anyway. Now get to the point. What does the disgraced former C.E.O of Rourke International
want with the lead investor in his children's company?”

“Not sympathy. Just information. On a woman who was first employed by Mansingh
Transglobal about thirty or so years ago. I believe she worked for the company until her death.”

“And when did she die?”

“In 1996. Her name was Cassandra Chandler.”

Chapter 21: The Twelfth Catalyst

Summary:
Rochelle finally comes face to face with the person who could bring her daughter home.

Notes:
Whew! This is a long 'un! Hope you enjoy, though.
Chapter Text

Taylor

The loud clang of metal on metal reverberates through Theoretical Prismatics as Aleister's
fencing blade connects with the piece of derelict technology I've pressed myself against, missing
my head by half an inch. The Andromeda armor gleams in the diffused glow of dingy florescent
lights as I duck and roll away from my maddened friend. I can see Seraxa's obsedian blade in the
corner. If I can just reach it, I can defend myself. Disarm him. Incapacitate him enough that I can
get away. Find the others. Get away. Get back to Elyys'tel.
Aleister lunges at me again with lightning speed, but I'm faster, using Estela's defensive training
to block and evade, watching him carefully for any sign of weakness. His eyes are wild with fury,
but his movements are graceful and precise.
“You! You killed her! You killed Grace!”
“I didn't kill anyone!” I protest, twirling away from his blade again.
“She is dead because of you!”
“No, she isn't! Aleister, she's alive! She's back at Elyys'tel! We can take you to her if you
just help us!”
“Liar! You're a lying witch! That's what he said! That's what they all say!”
“What who all say?!”
He slows down for just a moment, catching his breath. “The Hostiles...my father...everyone! You
control the Island's Heart! You control the Endless! You control the crystals and the island...”
“I do not!” I protest. “The Vaanti have never said any such thing! It's all Rourke! It's all your
father! He's been filling your head with lies for the past year! ...Oh, God...Aleister, what has he been
doing to you...?”
He stops. His whole body trembles violently. “...Doing...to...me...” He shakes his head hard, droplets
of sweat flying from the ends of his hair. “N-nothing! He's done nothing to me! He is being
a father to me! Protecting me from the likes of you!”
He strikes again, so quickly that I don't see it coming, and sweeps my leg out from under me with
his foot. I fall hard onto my back, the back of my head hitting the floor so hard that stars explode
in front of my eyes. I lay stunned, just long enough that for him to get a foot on my chest and the
point of his sword at my throat. He's going to kill me. I have no doubt that he means to do it. But
he hesitates just a moment too long. A powerful pair of arms clamps around him from behind,
pinning his arms to his sides. He struggles, howling in fury as Raj drags him off me, and I scramble
to my feet.
“Al, calm down!” Raj murmurs through gritted teeth. “Come on, man! It's okay! We're your
friends!”
“She's not my friend!” Aleister screams, lunging for me. “She's the cause of all of this! I'll kill her!
I'll kill her and free us all!”
“Man, don't make me hurt you!” Raj pleads. “I don't want to hurt you!”
I rush forward to grab Aleister's face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. “Aleister,
stop!” And then he stills, as if hypnotized by my gaze. “It's me, Aleister. It's Taylor. I'm your friend. I
don't know what Rourke has been doing to you, but he can't be trusted. You know he can't be
trusted.”
He is quiet for a long time, trembling in Raj's grip. His lips quiver, his eyes filling with tears.
“...Grace...?”
“She's alive. She was hurt, but she survived. She's okay. ...We'll take you to her. Just tell us where
Rourke has the others and help us get them out.”
A strangled gasp of pain from Raj breaks my concentration. He has gone rigid, his eyes wide with
shock. Horror floods through me as blood appears between his lips, trickling out the sides of his
mouth. Over his shoulder, gripping the shaft of a spear, I can just make out Everett Rourke.
“Please release my son, Mr. Bandharkar. I can't allow Taylor to corrupt him any further.”

***
The sun is rising over the Pacific as I sit in the kitchen in my bathrobe with a glass of milk in
front of me, gazing out the window. I told Jake I was going to satisfy a craving about an hour
ago. I hope he fell back asleep. I assume he did. He probably would have come to find me thirty
minutes ago if he were still awake.

I start slightly at the sound of footsteps in the kitchen, but my pulse slows when I realize it's
just Diego, smartly dressed for his first day of class in khakis and a button-down top. He's
freshly showered and shaved, his hair neatly combed and parted just slightly to one side. I'm
still slightly thrown by the fact that he wears glasses now, even after about three months to get
used to them. He frowns slightly when he sees me.

“What are you doing up so early?”

I lift my milk glass by way of explanation. “Craving.” I smile slightly. “I like the look, by the way.
Except for the glasses, it's pretty classic Diego.”

He chuckles as he takes a cartoon of coffee and a box of filters from the cabinet. “Classic Diego,
huh?”

“I'd kinda gotten used to the teen-heartthrob look you had on the island. Did you ever think of
keeping it?”

He scoops out a spoonful of ground coffee and dumps the dark powder into a paper filter.
“...Honestly...I shaved the second I got my hands on a razor. And as soon as I had my hands on
some money, I found a barber.”

“...So quickly?”

“It reminded me of you,” he says simply. “...That hurt. A lot.”

I bite my lip against the wave of guilty tears the threatens me. Seeing my expression, Diego
comes over to draw me into his arms. I screw my eyes shut, leaning into his embrace.

“...I know...I know it shouldn't bother me...” I whisper.

“Oh, Allie. I missed you. That's all I meant. It hurt because I didn't think you were coming back,
and that was upsetting.”

“I know. I just hate that I put you through that. ...Also, I've got hormones. That's probably not
helping.”

“Probably not. But it wasn't anything you 'put us through', Allie. It was the result of the fact that
we love you and you were gone.”

“The doctor said that a lot of pregnant women have really vivid dreams at this stage. I just
wondered how I'd be able to tell...”
“...Is that what you're really doing up at this hour?”

I sigh. I don't have the energy to lie. “Yeah.”

He moves to pour himself a cup of coffee, and brings it over to the table, pulling up a chair.
“...You wanna tell me?”

“No...not the details. Not now. ...I watched someone die. Again. That's what it always is.”

He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “You're not alone, you know.”

“I know.”

“...What I mean is, you're not the only one of us who's dealt with nightmares. We all had them
after the island.”

That actually makes me look up. “...Really?”

“Yeah. And a lot of us had them before the island, too. ...Two of your Catalysts fought wars, Allie.
And three were abused and neglected as children. ...I was a gay teenager in a conservative
Catholic family. The fact that you were phase-shifting through that entire timeline probably
saved my life because I guess a part of me could sense that I really wasn't alone, that there
really was a friend there who would love me and tell me that there wasn't anything wrong with
me.” My tears are flowing in earnest now, my throat swollen with sobs that tear out of my
chest. Diego grips my hand, but he keeps talking. “...After we lost you to the island, we all had
nightmares about our experiences there. We all talked about them. About seeing Arachnid
coming after us, the guests in the stasis pods, Mount Atropo erupting, Cetus attacking...we all
dreamed about the moment you gave yourself up pretty regularly. Nightmares are common
with grief and trauma. ...But...it got easier to bear with time. The eleven of us talked all the time,
and we worked through it together.”

“So...that's your advice to me?” I ask in a whimper. “Just talk about it?”

“Well, I mean, don't force yourself. But basically, yes. ...Don't try to force yourself to feel better,
either. It's gonna take time. But it can get better, Allie. It got better for us. It can get better for
you, too. You've only been back for a few months. It might be years before you start to really
feel like you've got your feet under you.” He takes a sip of coffee, giving my hand another
squeeze. “...And if you want to talk now, I've got time to listen.”

I look up at him. For a long moment, I just look at him, studying his face. Then I draw in a
shuddering breath.

“...I never really know everything about the situation I'm dreaming about. It's like suddenly
waking up on a the set of a movie in the middle of a scene being filmed, and I know vaguely
what I'm supposed to be doing, but I never know why or exactly who's alive. ...And I don't know
who is about to die in front of me. ...It was Raj this time...killed by Rourke...”
Raj

I had never guessed that there was a superhero base inside the abandoned Northbridge
clocktower, but in retrospect, it makes perfect sense. It's an impressive setup, comfortable,
homey, and very high-tech. I cast my eye over the place, whistling with approval.

“Sweet digs. I gotta get into the superhero business.”

“It isn't always what I would would call lucrative,” Minuet says ruefully from where she stands
at the window with her arms folded. Talos, his bronze body stretched out on the couch, grins at
us.

“But it is always rewarding.”

Minuet rolls her eyes. “You know, when Tahira puts on the goody two-shoes act, I actually
believe it.”

“At least I was never a thief,” Talos retorts. “When exactly are you planning on giving Dax his
suit back?”

“Okay, enough!” Dax chides them. “That's not why we're here, is it. We're here for Tahira.”

“Right.” Minuet looks hard at us. “These people have the means to bring her back, but they're
making us jump through hoops for it.”

“The means,” Michelle says coldly, narrowing her eyes, “is not an 'it'. Her name is Taylor.
And she happens to mean the world to us, understand? I may not have liked her at first, but that
was only because she didn't flatter me the way I was used to people doing. Of course, most of
the people who flattered me ended up betraying me. If I pushed her, she pushed back. But she
never let me fall. No matter what we said to each other in those early days, if I was in trouble,
she would help me out of it. She saw something in me worth protecting and cherishing, even if I
actively pushed her away.”
“She's good at seeing people for who they are,” I add. “Most people saw me as the crazy party
stoner. Someone whose antics they could laugh at, but not someone to actually take seriously.
Not even my professors gave me credit for being smart, even when I was acing every exam.
Taylor always respected me. She never tried to pin a label on me. With her, I can be the wild
stoner and the cum laude college graduate. I can be the master chef and the business man. I can
be anything I feel like being because she'll always accept that I'm still me.”

“...She saved my life,” Quinn says softly. The eyes of every Catalyst turn on her sharply. We all
knew we were going to tell the superheroes what Taylor means to us individually. But I don't
think we were expecting Quinn to reveal anything about the Island's Heart.
“Quinn...” Michelle says softly. “You don't have to tell that story...”

“I know. But I think they should know it. ...I came to La Huerta believing I only had six months
to live. Rotterdam's Syndrome. If you've heard of the Kelly Foundation, you already know who I
am and what my story is. The official story is that an experimental treatment my father
arranged for me cured me. But that wasn't it. It was Taylor. ...Using power she wasn't fully
aware was hers yet. That is...she used one of the island's crystals. A particularly powerful one
which was named the Island's Heart. I...will leave it to Taylor herself to tell you exactly what the
Island's Heart was. I expect she will tell you when you meet her. But the journey to acquire it
wasn't easy. And the effects the Island's Heart had on me were...scary sometimes. The same
way I expect your powers can be to you when they manifest in ways you don't expect. But I was
worth the journey to her, and she never abandoned me when the Island's Heart caused me to
behave in ways that terrified her and the others. To her, I was always more than my illness.
More than the strange effects of the Island's Heart. I had always tried not to let my illness
define me, but it always seemed to do just that. How can I explain what it was like to have
someone who could look past that, even knowing about it, and just see me...?”

A long silence descends over the room. Abruptly, Talos drops his bronze disguise, revealing
Kenji Katsaros, which we all knew was coming, but we try to act appropriately surprised.
Minuet removes her mask. I don't recognize the woman behind it, but she introduces herself as
Eva.

“We all understand where you're coming from,” Kenji assures us. “Grayson has told us that you
need to be sure of us before you let us meet Taylor, and we completely understand. It's why
we're here. But we think we deserve a chance to plead our case for Tahira, too.”

“Kenji has already revealed that I used to be a thief,” Eva begins. “I had my reasons for stealing.
My father was an employee at Mayhew Dynamics. He ended up getting lung cancer thanks to
Mayhew sacrificing employee safety to pad his bottom line. I stole to pay the bills, and because I
was furious at the world that had allowed it to happen. Tahira taught me how to be a hero. Not
by lecturing or browbeating, but by helping me to take down Mayhew—without letting me
cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed.”

“She's not just a hero as Dragonness, either,” Kenji adds. “I mean, as heroes go in that sense,
you're not likely to find one who's as selfless and upstanding, but beyond that, she's
compassionate and kind, and she'll never let down a friend in need.”

“Poppy and I both knew her for years before she was Dragonness,” Grayson says. “We all went
to school together. Most people on campus knew me best as the son of Silas Prescott, someone
to flatter and admire, but no one really knew the real me, and no one tried. ...Except for her.”

“She's my best friend,” Poppy declares. “Everyone knows Dragonness now, but not many
people really know Tahira. They don't know the girl who was there to hold my head while I
puked when I got drunk for the first time in college. They don't know the girl who doesn't
hesitate to tell me when I'm being petty or unreasonable or downright stupid the way only
your best friend can.”
“They certainly don't know the girl who liked to pretend the swing at the playground was a
flying horse,” Rochelle adds softly. “Or who put her arms around me and held me while I cried
at her grandmother's funeral, even though she was only eight years old at the time. Or who
begged me to drive her to school every day of sixth grade because she was being bullied by the
wealthy, popular girls. I didn't know that was why right away, but one morning she broke down
at breakfast and confessed everything. And while she sobbed in my arms, we looked out the
window and saw the school bus pass by. I called her in sick that morning, and I called into
work, and we spent the day downtown. We went to a movie, got our nails done, and then went
out to a nice dinner, and I let her get two desserts...”

“We want her back,” Dax says softly. “We want her home. We'll keep doing this as long as we
have to. As many times as we have to. Until you trust us enough to let us meet Taylor. So. How
about telling us the next step?”

Diego

Friday afternoon, I check my phone after class, and I'm startled to find a text from Mike Darwin
of all people, asking me to call him. I find a quiet spot and thumb the call through. He picks up
on the second ring.

“Hey. Thanks for calling.”

“Is everything okay? You sound...worried.”

“Not worried exactly. A little nervous though. Got a call from Aleister asking if I'd be able to fly to
Northbridge and bring the Prescott crew out to California to make their case to you and Jake.”

I feel my heart start to beat faster. “...I see...”

“Clearly, they impressed the others enough to get to this point. But...”

“This means they're getting closer to Allie,” I finish softly. “And whatever happens next...”

“I already got permission from Jake and Taylor. I want to make sure you're okay with meeting
them, too. Before I agree to fly them out here.”

“I mean...I trust the others. As long as we're agreed that Jake and I meet them before they get to
Allie.”

“Of course. ...I don't think Taylor's exactly on board with that, but Jake kinda put his foot down.”
“I'm not surprised on either of those counts. It was one thing when it was everyone in
Northbridge deciding whether to tell a bunch of other people in Northbridge that she was in
California. But now that they're coming to California, I can imagine she feels a little weird about
waiting to meet them in a back room while Jake and I interrogate them.”

“But Jake doesn't let go easy. He's got the love of his life back and she's pregnant with his kid. The
fact that he actually respects her enough to care about what she wants is probably the only
reason he doesn't have her locked up in a tower right now. He's just so scared of losing her...”

I feel a moment of overwhelming kinship with Mike, with this man who has been a best friend
and brother to Jake, the husband of my own sister-in-spirit. What Mike says next almost feels
predictable.

“...I'm thinking I should stick close to Jake until this is over.”

“There are nine bedrooms at the beach house,” I point out. “Fully furnished. We won't charge
you rent, either.”

“My one concern is that last time Jake and I lived under the same roof, things were pretty tense
between us.”

“Well, you were both dealing with your own trauma at the time.”

“That trauma hasn't exactly gone away. ...But right now, I'm in a stronger place than he is. He
needs me.”

“He absolutely does,” I agree. “Come stay with us awhile, Mike. I need you in my corner, too.”

“You do?”

“Mike, you and I are the best friends to a pair of reckless, bull-headed, angry pieces of work
with hearts that are almost too big and who love each other to the depths of their shared
reckless, bull-headed, angry, loving soul. We're their brothers. So what do you think that
means?”

“It means they need us,” I can hear the wry smile in his voice.

“Exactly. They're fire, those two. They need us to be earth and water to keep them from burning
out of control.”

“They need us to keep 'em out of trouble. Or to bail 'em out if we can't. ...Which I guess is the same
thing you said, but less poetic.”

“Yeah, I'm water in that metaphor.”

“Okay, Soto. I'll pitch the idea to the Firebirds, and we'll see what they say.”

Rochelle

The private Rourke International jet lurches as its wheels make contact with the tarmac at the
small airport near Laguna Beach, California. My stomach lurches with it, though I don't think
it's because of the motion. This is it. The final hurdle. The last two Catalysts before we finally
meet Taylor. My daughter's biological cousin. The one who can bring her home.

The pilot is not a Catalyst, but he is apparently a friend of theirs. His name is Michael Darwin,
and he is a handsome man in his late twenties or early thirties, with one bionic eye. I wonder if
there is significance in the fact that I have met two people associated with the Catalysts who
happen to have bionic parts. He didn't say much as he guided me, Grayson, Dax, Poppy, Eva, and
Kenji onto the plane, and he doesn't say much now. It's not until we're all crammed into the
limousine that he actually speaks to us at length.

“We managed to find a place in Riverside that's neutral territory, and also private enough to
hold a conversation as delicate as this. There, you'll be introduced to Diego Soto and Jake
McKenzie. Canis and Lupus. They also happen to be Taylor's best friend and her husband
respectively.”

“I expect they'll have more stories about what she means to them and how wonderful she is.”
My words come out with more bitterness than I intended, and I blush a little at my own
callousness. But Mike actually looks a little sympathetic.

“I expect you're getting tired of those stories by now.”

I sigh. “It isn't that, exactly. I don't doubt that Taylor is everything everyone's claimed she is.
...But do they want me just to give up on my own daughter to avoid risking Taylor?”

“That isn't what they want at all. Trust me, if anyone would want to help you get your daughter
back, it would be the Catalysts. ...They've been through what you have. They spent five years
thinking Taylor was gone forever. It was only by chance that they got her back. If they had
known sooner that she was alive, they would have fought just as hard as you're fighting. But
consider this: when you get your daughter back, are you gonna forbid her from going back to
her life as Dragonness?”

That actually gives me pause. I hadn't honestly considered past the moment when I will hold
her in my arms again. Now that I can't help but think about it, the thought of her fighting again
makes my pulse race.

“I...suppose I can't forbid her. She is an adult now...”

“But you don't much like the thought of it, either. You lost her once. Any chance of that
happening again isn't an easy thought to face.”

“No,” I admit.

“But if she told you it was what she had to do, that it was her duty or her destiny or her calling
or whatever...you wouldn't stand in her way, would you.”

“...No. I wouldn't.”

“But you would still do everything possible to protect her.”

“Of course.”

“...That's the frame of mind the Catalysts are in right now. They lost Taylor once, and they only
just got her back. She's committed to helping you, and so are they. But even though they know
they have to let her do this, they can't help but try to protect her along the way.”

I nod silently. I suppose a part of me already realized all this, but Mike is laying it out in a way I
can't really deny. The Catalysts have been where we are. They can empathize. I should try to
empathize with them, too.

“How do you know the Catalysts?” Grayson asks.

“Jake McKenzie and I served in the Navy together. Fighter pilots.” He pauses for a long moment.
“...We were in Kharzistan. Discovered our CO was selling arms to the dictators we were fighting,
and tried to turn him in. But we got ratted out and ambushed during a routine recon flight. Jake
was able to eject. I wasn't. He thought I was dead, which isn't a surprise, but I managed to
survive. But...”

He trails off again and doesn't speak for awhile. For a long time, the rest of us exchange glances,
wondering whether to prompt him to continue. It ends up being moot when he continues on his
own.

“...I got this eye thanks to our CO. And these.” He lifts up his pant legs just enough to let us see
that the legs underneath are bionic. “Jake spent three years on the run. ...I ended up stuck in
some mind-control tech suit doing the CO's bidding. We met up again on La Huerta. ...The
Catalysts saved me. And after the island, we managed to clear our names and get our DD's
erased.”

“...I'm sorry you went through that.”

“I'm sorry you watched your daughter give herself up.”

“My daughter is alive.”

He smiles ruefully. “So am I.”

***

Our meeting place is a small multipurpose room inside a local rec center. It's cool and quiet
inside, a welcome change from the heat and brightness outside. Mike leads up the stairs to the
appointed room, where two young men are waiting. One is slim and boyishly handsome with
olive skin, dark hair trimmed close to his neck, and dark-rimmed glasses. The other wears a set
of military dogtags around his neck, though he looks a bit more rugged than I would have
expected for a soldier. But there is something in his manner that is undeniably military.
Especially when he steps toward me with his shoulders squared and pins me with a sky-blue
gaze.

“Are you Rochelle Rogers?”

“I am.”

He puts out his hand. I take it and he shakes firmly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your daughter
is a true hero, ma'am. I was watching the coverage that day. What she did took real courage
that deserves to be recognized, honored, and respected. I fully intend to be there when we
bring her home so that I can shake her hand, too.”

For a moment, I'm so startled, I can't do anything except stare. This one must be Jake McKenzie.
Lupus. Taylor's husband. I was prepared for him to resist more than any of them, to be wary
and hostile out of fear for his wife. I was not prepared for him of all of them to open by praising
my daughter. And I certainly didn't expect him to speak of her return as a certainty, an event to
be eagerly anticipated.

“...I...expect in the military you saw many such heroes...” I murmur.

“Yes. And out of it. I can promise you every one of them is permanently stamped on my heart.”

I feel grateful tears gathering in my eyes, but I still don't dare to hope it's going to be this easy.
“Pardon me if I sound harsh, but this wasn't exactly what I was expecting from you.”

“Yeah? What were you expecting?”

“...That you would tell me what a wonderful person Taylor is and how you're putting her at risk
and I need to know that.”

“Well, that much is coming, I admit. ...But we're your last hurdle. It ain't gonna pass exactly like
before. ...Should we all introduce ourselves?”

We murmur introductions. Kenji and Eva confirm their superhero identities. Diego and Jake
invite us to sit on the plastic chairs set up in a circle in the center of the multipurpose room. I
feel like I'm in a support group meeting. Diego is the first to speak.
“...I know Taylor better than any of the other Catalysts, really. I'm the one who knew her before
the island. She's been my best friend since we were both in diapers. She's practically my sister.
She was my family when no one else would be. When I think of the woman I'm protecting, I
don't just think of the Twelfth Catalyst. I think of the girl I came out to when we were fifteen
and drunk on her uncle's booze, who sang 'If You Were Gay,' at the top of her lungs. ...I think of
her quirks, the little details I've always known. She always licks the salt off tortilla chips before
eating them. As a child, she was terrified of the martian muppets on Sesame Street. She hates
carrots, and she loves turkey sandwiches. She is an incredible dancer, but she's an absolutely
tone-deaf singer. No matter where she is in the world, if she stops and stays still for awhile, she
starts to imagine every generation that has walked that ground before her...”

“For my part, I think of the woman I fell in love with,” Jake says. Almost absently, he reaches
over to grip Mike's shoulder. “...I saw her with her best friend, and I was reminded of the friend
I thought I had lost years ago. I saw her devotion to him, and it drew me to her as much as
anything else. Looking back, I realize that what really drew me to her is that she was like me.
The way I was before I lost everything. Fiery and idealistic. A fighter. I watched her fight on that
island, and it helped me fight again.”

“So far, this is all part of the familiar pattern,” Kenji says, not bothering to disguise his
impatience. “Why don't you just tell us what quest you want to send us on so we can meet
Taylor and get Tahira back?”

Diego and Jake exchange glances. “There's no quest this time,” Diego says. “If you've made it
this far, there's no real need to prove yourselves further. But you're missing a lot of the puzzle
pieces, and we're here to provide certain details.”

Jake leans forward, lacing his fingers together and propping his elbows on his knees. “...You
know that Taylor is Tahira's biological cousin. So you've likely guessed that means she isn't
entirely...earth human, shall we say.”

“Yes.”

“Her father was an alien we call Vaanu. Vaanu assumed a human form and married a human
woman named Cassandra. They had a child, a daughter they named Taylor. But when Taylor
was seven months old, a plane crash over the Atlantic killed both her parents. She was placed in
the custody of her mother's sister and brother-in-law and Diego's mother was hired as her
nanny. She and Diego attended Hartfeld University together and before their senior year, they
won a vacation to La Huerta. I assume you know the basics from there. We were terrorized by
Everett Rourke. He became obsessed with Taylor, and she disappeared. We all assumed she
was dead, but then two months ago, by chance, we found her in a stasis tube.”

“Well, that's the story the papers ran,” Dax agrees. Jake pins him with a hard gaze.

“It's not the truth.”

“How much...not the truth is it?”

“You've all been living with the reality of the Prism Gate for awhile,” Diego says. “So you're
aware of alternate dimensions. How much experience do you have with alternate timelines?”

“You mean like time travel?”

“Exactly.”

Our glances involuntarily slide to Eva, who apparently notices. “Don't look at me. Putting
people into slow-motion fields isn't time travel.”

“No. But it is interesting that you gained those powers from the Crystal.”

“Interesting how?”

Diego pauses. “...Let's come back to that. Why don't we start at the beginning. Vaanu is from the
same planet as Tahira and her parents. Billions of years ago, the star that kept that planet fit for
life expanded, and the planet burned. Vaanu was hurtled across countless lightyears and landed
on earth. The impact shattered his body, drew La Huerta up from the earth's crust, and broke
apart time and space, creating a time bubble that surrounded the island. Vaanu's spirit lived,
but the core of him, a crystal that came to be called the Island's Heart, was split in two and he
was trapped. So for billions of years, the Island's Heart nurtured the island, creating an
ecosystem that was unlike anything else on earth.”

“Five years ago,” Jake continues, “ten students from Hartfeld University entered the time
bubble on a plane flown by a former Navy pilot. The students and the pilot were all misfits with
pasts and troubles that kept them from moving forward. The moment they entered the time
bubble, their needs and longings met with Vaanu's energy and loneliness. From that energy,
Taylor came into being. A human willed into being to be exactly what eleven people and one
alien needed her to be. ...Created to give us hope.”

I feel something strangely cold and heavy creep into my belly. I look at Diego. “...I...thought you
said you grew up with her...”

“I did. In this timeline. The repaired timeline. But there is another timeline that existed once.
One where Taylor didn't exist until the eleven of us willed her into being. We didn't realize it at
first. Neither did she. Because we could all vaguely remember the repaired timeline. This
timeline, where I grew up with her.”

“...I'm confused.”

“I know. Just bear with us. In the...unrepaired timeline, we entered the time bubble and Taylor
was willed into being. Just a few minutes later, our plane was caught in a freak storm. What we
would not find out until much later was that the cause of the storm was actually Mount Atropo
erupting. The eruption was massive. Enough to burn the entire world outside the time bubble.”
“...Wouldn't we have noticed if the entire world burned five years ago?” Poppy asks, her voice
small.

“Ah, but you see, it didn't,” Jake says, smiling ruefully. “...The world didn't burn because Taylor
stopped it from happening.”

“...How?”

“Together, the twelve of us brought the two halves of the Island's Heart together. Rourke was
going to use it to power a device that would have rewritten history and basically made him
emperor of the world. He had mostly drained it of its power, but it was missing a piece. And
without that missing piece, he couldn't complete the project. ...Taylor was the missing piece,
and she was left with three choices.” He holds up three fingers in turn as he lays out the three
options. “One, give Rourke what he wanted. In exchange, we would all be alive, and she would
be given a past and a family of her own. But we would forget each other and everything we had
been through together. Two, return power to the Island's Heart, and stop the process. We
would be safe, and the Island would be preserved. But the rest of the world would have burned.
Three...return her own energy to the Island's Heart and give Vaanu the power to leave earth.
The timelines would be repaired, the world would be saved. But she would be gone forever.
...Guess which one she chose.”

I don't have to guess. I know. Taylor is my daughter's cousin. I am sure by now that they have
the same strength of spirit, the same sense of duty and devotion.

“...She gave herself back,” I murmur, my heart heavy. “But...then how is she here?”

“That's...kind of where you guys come in,” Diego says. “Keep in mind that even we don't
understand the exact mechanics involved in this whole thing. But here's what we do know: by
the time she rejoined Vaanu, Taylor had become too much her own entity to completely merge
with him. But since he wasn't trapped anymore, Vaanu was able to assume human form, insert
himself into the repaired timeline, and sire her on her human mother. She was born inside the
time bubble, possibly conceived there. And when she was born, a small piece of her life energy
was left inside one of the island's crystal fragments. There used to be millions of those crystal
shards scattered across the island. Most of them disappeared when Vaanu departed. ...Except
for the one your mother found, Grayson. ...The one that contained Taylor's life energy.”

“You mean...the Prism Crystal is...”

Jake nods. “The Prism Crystal, liquid prism...all of it is Taylor's own life energy.”

“After the prism gate exploded, I began to find physical evidence of Taylor's existence. Of our
childhood together. Then, when we gathered on the island for our annual reunion...there she
was. Now, here's how we think it all works:

“Vaanu gave Taylor a life in the repaired timeline. But she still had to go to the island in order to
repair the timeline and set him free in the first place. So, for twenty-odd years, there were two
parallel timelines.” Diego demonstrates, holding his arms out parallel in front of him. “One
where she existed, and one where she didn't. And for twenty-odd years, Taylor phase-shifted in
and out of existence, which is why I was able to imagine her so vividly. Why we all had such a
clear impression of her when we willed her into being. The Prism Crystal, that was what
allowed the timelines to finally merge. It preserved Taylor's consciousness on earth, while
giving her a connection back to Vaanu and his homeworld. That's why Tahira was able to be
saved. She's the daughter of Vaanu's brother, Taylor's genetic relative. Her life energy
responded to that connection. And it responded again twenty-five years later when Tahira
came in direct contact with the crystal. And when the eleven of us gathered together on La
Huerta...when the energy of our love for her gathered at the place where she was born, it was
the final boost she needed to be able to regain her human form and finally merge the two
timelines, giving her a real human existence.”

I nod slowly, feeling understanding seep into my brain, sorting through the confusion. Dax also
nods.

“I think I understand,” he says. “We've been told time and time again that will is a powerful
thing for their race, especially when it meets with the will of humans. Taylor's will was
basically contained inside the Prism Crystal. Maybe not fully conscious, but enough to
recognize her own biological relatives, as well as her spiritual family.”

“So...where do the powers come from?” Kenji asks. “And where do Eva and I fit into that? Are
we aliens, too?”

“No. You're not. The Endless told us that. As far as we understand it, Tahira's powers are her
birthright. And Taylor may also have powers that haven't been unlocked yet. As to where you
and Eva fit in, that's better explained by Taylor herself.”

“When do we meet her?”

“Whenever you're ready,” Jake says. He draws in a shuddering breath, lifting his gaze to meet
mine. “...I'm scared shitless that I'm going to lose my wife again. ...But your daughter brought
her back to me when I thought she was gone forever. There's no way in hell I'm just gonna
leave her lost.”

Fresh tears burn in my eyes. “...Thank you.”

***

We return to the car we arrived in, and we're driven on. This time, Jake and Diego join us, as
well as Mike. Through the tinted window, I can see that the ocean is getting closer. Finally, the
car takes a turn into a waterfront neighborhood, and then up the drive of a magnificent beach
house. We're let out, and the three men lead us up the walkway and into the house.

“Hey, Princess?” Jake calls. “We're home. We brought company.”

“Come on in,” a voice answers from somewhere down the hall. “We're in the living room.”

We're led down the hall to a majestically decorated living room that opens out onto a sprawling
deck overlooking the ocean. Two people rise to greet us. I stop short in the doorway.

One of the two people in question is a man with vibrant blue skin and long aqua hair braided
into a queue. The other is a young woman who could only be Taylor. The blue-skinned man is
startling enough, but it's Taylor who draws my gaze and holds my attention.

I am not sure what I was expecting. Perhaps someone who looked a little more like my Tahira,
dark-haired and olive-skinned, tall and supple, built strong. Taylor is short and lithe, muscular
but slim and sinewy, pale and golden-haired with cerulean blue eyes. There is something else I
notice about her, too. A particular way her belly is pushing out against under her tank top,
against the waistband of her shorts. She folds her hands tellingly over the bulge, and my mouth
suddenly feels dry.

She's pregnant. It's subtle, and she can't be more than twelve weeks gone. But no one can
recognize the most subtle of signs quite like a woman who has struggled to have a child of her
own.

Taylor nods to us. “Come in, everyone. Make yourselves comfortable, because we may be here
awhile. ...It's about time you knew everything.”

Chapter 22: Mothers

Summary:
Taylor tells all. An alliance is solidified.

Notes:
Hoooo boy, this chapter gave me so much trouble! Seriously, it did not want to get written! But
here it is, with several Checkov's guns loaded! Enjoy!
Chapter Text

Taylor

They know almost everything. I know what Jake and Diego meant to tell them. They know now
what the Prism Crystal is. What I am. But some secrets had to be kept until they met me.
Because some secrets are only mine to tell. Our guests sit down. After a moment of exchanging
glances, they introduce themselves.
“We can guess who you are,” Grayson Prescott says with a nervous laugh. “We have heard a lot
about you. But we don't know who the...um...blue gentleman is...?”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. “The 'blue gentleman' is Varyyn. Diego's husband. He
also happens to be a Vaanti.”

Varyyn passes me an amused glance, then looks back at Grayson. “It's a pleasure to meet you,
Grayson. To answer your next question, no this is not a costume. The Vaanti are the inhabitants
of the La Huerta. Our people were human once, but became what we are through exposure to
the sap from the great trees that were nurtured by the Island's Heart. Kenji and Eva, that is
actually the origin of your powers.”

“...What is?”

“Your ancestors were somehow exposed to the Island's Heart. To the sap of one of the Great
Trees, to the energy of the time bubble...perhaps at one point, they even breathed in the ash
from an eruption of Mount Atropo. However it happened, their blood was altered, just as my
ancestors' blood was altered. The difference is that while my ancestors remained on the island
and continued to be exposed, yours left the time bubble and returned to the world outside of it.
That is true of you and every other superhuman in Northbridge, save Tahira.”

“...Because Tahira is fully alien,” Dax finishes. “And Taylor's biological relative. That's why the
crystal reacted to her first. And why her energy readings were so much stronger.”

“But...then why wasn't my mother affected?” Kenji asks. “I mean, she was there, too...”

“It could be that it was your father's bloodline that was exposed to the Island's Heart,” I
suggest. “Or...and this is just a thought...maybe the genetic mutation is strongest in the youngest
generation. I don't know. True to form, the Endless gave us answers that only lead to more
questions.”

“Where exactly does the Endless fit into all of this?” Rochelle asks. “Am I allowed to ask that?”

I feel my eyebrows lift in surprise. “I would have thought that much would have been obvious.
But then...I suppose you only met her once. Maybe it's more obvious when we're side by side.”

“...What is?”

I sigh a little. This one is my secret to tell. Only mine. I don't want to tell it. But they need to
know. “That I am the Endless. Or rather...she is—was—an alternate version of me.” I reach for
Jake's hand, and he folds my hand between his palms while I tell them the story of the Endless.
How the first version of me survived while everyone else died and learned to reset the time
loop. I explain how she guided us from the shadows, how she went back further than she ever
had when it became clear that she had to change the Vaanti or else we would continue to be
slaughtered. I explain how it took over two thousand cycles to get it right, for the naive version
of me to reach the Threshold with all twelve idols and everyone alive. I hesitate before telling
them that the Endless was prepared to sacrifice the world in order to give me a life and an
existence with the only family she had ever known.

“None of this is actually relevant to the situation at hand. The Vaanti...the Endless...any of it. But
I did say I was going to tell you everything.”

“We appreciate your trust,” Grayson replies. “But...as to the matter at hand: do you know how
to get Tahira back?”

“I know that I have the ability to get her back,” I answer. “Exactly how it's going to end up
working, that's going to take a little figuring out. But I do have a good idea of where to start.”

“Where is that?”

“Tahira first came through the Prism Gate as a baby, right? I don't know for sure, but the
concept ultimately seems similar to the Lernaean Gate.”

“But the crystal shards weren't enough to power the Lernaean Gate on their own,” Diego points
out. “It needed half the Island's Heart.”

“Right. But clearly the Prism Crystal was enough to make a portal strong enough to send an
infant child through. Clearly having my life energy contained in it makes it a little more
powerful than the average crystal shard. Maybe not on the level of the Island's Heart, but
there's enough energy in there to at least make a one-way portal.” I look at Grayson and
Rochelle. “...I've been to Vaanu's homeworld before. Psychically, anyway. When I was touching
the crystal pillar on the rooftop of The Celestial. The crystal shards had a way
of...communicating with me. I have an idea that I may be able to find a way to communicate
with Tahira. To guide her back through the Prism Gate.”

Rochelle swallows hard. “Do you really think that would work?”

“It might. I mean...I was able to reach Varyyn from Hartfeld with Diego's help. And Quinn was
able to find the Island's Heart. It's a larger distance obviously, but we won't know until we try.
But before we know anything, I'll need to get my hands on the Prism Crystal.”

“But we don't know where it is,” Grayson says grimly. “It was recovered after the gala, but we
don't know what Dad did with it after that.”

“...Actually...we do. Sort of.” Dax looks thoughtfully past me, gazing out the window over my
shoulder. “Silas Prescott briefly held Tahira captive before the big battle went down.
She...escaped when her birth parents' voices came through the repaired Prism Gate. They
somehow provided her with the power and strength she needed to escape.”

I feel my eyebrows lift. “...Well, that's a new one.”

“Only problem is...we don't know where she was held.”

“She never told you?”

“...Things were a little...crazy. I guess that bit of information slipped through the cracks.”

I sigh. “Well...perhaps if I'm in Northbridge, I can track it. I mean...it is my life energy. That's
gotta be worth something, right?”

“That worked when we were looking for the idols,” Jake points out.

“But maybe we don't have to waste the time,” Poppy says slowly. “...Wasn't Caleb held captive
with her?”

“We haven't seen Caleb at all since the Battle of Northbridge,” Eva protests.

“Normally, I'd say 'good riddance',” Kenji sighs. “But it would help if we don't have to send
Taylor all over Northbridge, hoping she'll be able to track the Prism Crystal. Not to mention
that if the Gate is intact...”

“Are you sure Caleb can be trusted?” Dax asks uncertainly.

“Hell, no!” Kenji snorts. “I have a policy of not trusting anyone who has literally put a flaming
sword through my gut.”

“Good policy,” Jake agrees, smirking.

I smile faintly, but I don't comment. I've been suddenly reminded of Lila, and how she came
down on the right side in the end. And that reminds me that the Endless said that Lila had been
revived. ...And then I think of the woman I saw at the In-N-Out a few months ago...

“But,” Kenji goes on, breaking into my thoughts, “we need the Prism Crystal, and the Prism
Gate. For Tahira.”

“We'll find them,” Eva promises. “We'll find Caleb and get it out of him. Even if it takes...force.”

I look at them for a long moment, taking each of them in. Finally, I say, “Perhaps this is a good
thing. In the time it takes you to locate the Prism Gate, we can arrange to take the time off and
fly to Northbridge.”

“I've already been planning to invent a family emergency,” Diego says. “Possibly in Mexico.”

“I know your reputation probably works in your favor when it comes to getting time off,” I say,
unable to keep the pride from my voice. But then my smile slips. “...But Uncle Rob might not be
so generous to Jake.”
“Nepotism isn't always all it's cracked up to be,” Grayson sighs. “We'll fly home first thing in the
morning, and we'll contact you as soon as we have any information.”

***

Morning sickness prevents me from properly seeing them off the next morning—and Jake,
since he refuses to leave my side while I've got my head down the toilet bowl.

“You feel crappy enough already,” he declares. “If you get it in your hair, you'll just add
frustration to the mix.”

Problem is, I already feel frustrated that the puking hasn't stopped yet, and his goddamn
thoughfulness is making me feel so fucking grateful, and for some reason, I'm furious about
that, which only makes me feel guilty, and by the time I stop puking, I'm sobbing. I curl up in his
arms, dabbing at my face with a wad of toilet paper, hiccupping and gulping while he rocks me
tenderly and strokes my hair.

“I'm still waiting for this whole pregnancy thing to feel magical,” I grumble. “Right now, it's all
puke and sore boobs and I'm tired all the time...and I swear to God, if you're laughing at me,
you're a dead man.”

The soft chuckling above my head stops. “Not laughing, Princess. Promise. At least, I'm not
laughing at you.” I feel him kiss my hair. “I admit, I don't actually have a lot of experience with
pregnant women and their troubles. I'm gonna do my best because I love you and it's my kid
doing all this to you. But Grace and Michelle are gonna be the ones to talk to about this.”

“...Just a few minutes ago, I was actually furious with you for being wonderful and holding my
hair.”

“Not sure that makes a whole lotta sense. But when you got a new human growing in your gut
like an alien and pumping your brain full of chemicals, I don't think you gotta worry too much
about making sense.”

I groan a little, getting to my feet. Jake braces me on one side. “Like an alien is right. I've been
wondering if the reason my parents had so much trouble conceiving is because my father was
an alien.”

“Maybe,” he muses as I make my way to the sink and squeeze toothpaste onto my toothbrush.
“We didn't seem to have any trouble, though.”

“...True. Vaanu and my mother had to use IVF...” I stick the end of my toothbrush in my mouth
and scrub like I'm angry at my teeth and gums.

“Well...you're half-human. That probably makes a difference.”

I spit in the sink and notice a couple flecks of red mixed in the with the white foam. When I take
a gulp from the sink to swish around my teeth, there's a faint coppery taste. I spit that out and
straighten, meeting Jake's eyes in the mirror.

“...I worry about River. I worry that something will be wrong with them.”

“Ahh, Princess...” He comes up behind me, cinching his arms around my waist, letting his hands
rest on my abdomen. “Every mom worries about that kind of stuff.”

“Not every mom had an alien father,” I murmur as Jake plants kisses along the curve of my
neck. I feel tears starting to rise behind my eyes again. “...Jake...I wish my mother were here...”

Jake's mouth pauses on my neck. “Your mother...?”

“Someone who loves me, whose been through this and could help me through it...”

“What about Diego's mom? She was basically your mother growing up.”

“Yeah, but...” I draw in a shuddering breath. I don't want to start crying again. “I don't know,
Jake. I just felt so envious of Tahira yesterday. To have her mother fighting for her like that.
...That's what I want.”

“Since Tahira is adopted and an only child, I must say I don't think Rochelle would be someone
you could swap pregnancy stories with. At least...none that would do anything to ease your
anxieties.”

“Maybe not. But that's such a small part of what I want. I mean...I was adopted, but it's not like
the people who adopted me actually wanted me. The closest things I had to parents were
somebody else's.”

“I want you. Your real family wants you.”

I sigh. “I know, Jake. I know...”

He is quiet for a moment, his arms tightening around me. “...I wish I knew what to say...”

“There's really no need to say anything,” I murmur, leaning into his embrace. “...Just hold me.”

“Well, that I can do.” He nuzzles my neck. “...I will say this, though: it ain't wrong to wish for
something you didn't have. But your past also ain't gonna stop you from being a good mother, if
you were ever worried about that. Hell, just look at what history Aleister and Grace had to
overcome, but they're doing all right with Reggie.”

I smile a little. I probably know their histories more intimately than Jake or any of the others.
“That's true.” I sigh a little. As I gaze in the mirror, it seems to me that I can see a bit of a
potbelly starting to push out from underneath my babydoll pajama top. “I'm not sure if I'm
starting to show, or if that's just bloating.”

“Hmm. I dunno. You do look different.”

“Different good or different bad?”

He chuckles. “You'll never look bad to me unless you're not healthy.”

I turn in his arms to wind my arms around his neck. “...You are very good at saying the right
things,” I inform him, and capture his mouth in a tender kiss. I've got months left to worry
about my baby. Right now, I just want to be with my love.

Kenji

I am entering my mother's office in disguise. Bronze all over my body to visit my own mother at
work. If I were to visit as myself, she'd be annoyed with me for interrupting her day. The
thought is a bitter one, and I feel guilty for it. Our relationship has improved by leaps and
bounds lately, but there's still a big difference between the way she treats me and the way she
treats Talos. Though, to be fair, her relationship with Talos has improved by leaps and bounds,
too. It's how Minuet and I are able to walk into the DA's office without an appointment and not
only be shown right in, but offered coffee while we wait in cushy office chairs in front of her
desk.

It's about twenty minutes before my mother comes in and takes her seat behind the desk. She
sighs as she sits down. She must be having a stressful day, because I recognize the way her
eyelids droop slightly as she sinks into the chair. She's been known to make the same face
sinking into her armchair at home after a particularly exhausting day at work. This chair is
heaven right now, she often sighs. After taking a moment to savor the sensation of being seated,
she seems to remember that we're here.

“Sorry to have kept you both waiting.”

“Not at all, DA Katsaros,” I reply, waving my hand dismissively. “We didn't have an
appointment. We knew we might be waiting awhile.”

“How can I help you?”

“We were wondering if you have received any new information on either Stonewall or the Man
on Fire. The latter in particular.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Why the latter in particular?”

“Well, for a couple reasons. In spite of Dragonness recruiting him at least temporarily before
the Battle of Northbridge, he hasn't been seen since. The alliance was a shaky one to begin with,
built on questionable ground.”

“He joined us to promote anarchy and chaos by taking out this city's unofficial ruler,” Minuet
adds. “We're concerned that with Dragonness MIA, he may revert to his old habits.”

“We're also hoping to persuade you to let us deal with him first.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we need him. We need some information from him. Information that will help us
bring Dragonness back.”

Mom raises her eyebrows. “Back? Back from where? I had rather assumed she was dead.”

“So did we, to be honest. But she isn't. She's alive. But she's trapped in another dimension.”

“How do you know?”

“Never mind how we know. You'll just have to trust us on that. We know she is alive, and we
know that we need access to the Prism Gate to bring her back.” I exhale slowly. “Silas Prescott
repaired the Prism Gate. Dragonness and Man on Fire were both held captive in his facility
where it was stored two days before the Battle of Northbridge. ...Man on Fire has been escaping
from prisons and handcuffs probably about as long as you've been the DA, give or take. Let us
find him and get the location of the Prism Gate out of him, and you'll also gain the location of
the only cell that's ever been able to hold him. Certainly the only one you can trust to hold him
since he gained his abilities.”

Mom pins me with a penetrating gaze. As the silence stretches on, I feel myself starting to
squirm. I'm disguised as Talos, but I'm still Kenji. And nothing unsettles Kenji more than Mom's
penetrating stare. Finally, she clears her throat.

“We don't currently have any solid leads on either Stonewall or Man on Fire. ...However, there
were reports last week from some beat cops who came across a few petty criminals with a
stash of liquid prism in an abandoned apartment complex in Bayside. The criminals were
arrested before they had a chance to inject themselves and the liquid prism was confiscated
and returned to Prescott Industries.”

“Are those criminals still in custody?” Minuet asks.

“For now. I expect you want to question them?”

Minuet smiles placidly, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, yes,” she replies, her voice somehow
tranquil and gleeful at once. “Very much.”
Estela

My mother has been wondering about my comings and goings the past week or two. I explain
the situation to her over breakfast a few days after the Prescott entourage get back from
California. She watches me quietly while I lay out the facts for her, her expression carefully
neutral.

“I had been wondering if you think you might be able to help us,” I remark.

“Help you? I'm not sure how I could.”

“Well, you were the first person to work out the Endless' abilities. You also worked on the
Lernaean Gate. I suppose I just wondered if you might have some insights.”

She sighs. “I don't know. I mean, it's a possibility...but...”

“...But what?”

She doesn't answer right away. Silence stretches on for several minutes. I don't press her, but I
can't help but grow impatient as she puts her chin down in her hand and turns to gaze out the
kitchen window.

“...Working with crystals again...working with the Omega specimen--”

“She isn't a specimen, Mom. Her name is Taylor, and she's a person.”

“Yes, Estelita, I know. But...the point is that I thought I was leaving this all behind. I tried to
leave because the things we were working with were dangerous. Because I didn't want to be a
part of it. Because I wanted to stop it.”

“...It's all more complicated than what it appeared to be when you were working for Rourke,” I
murmur. “An innocent...no, more than innocent...a woman who tried to protect people from a
man just like Rourke and the corrupted power he was weilding now needs our help. ...Her mom
needs us to bring her daughter home.”

“I know, Estelita. ...I will help you if I can. But I will not try to pretend I am not afraid.”

I feel my chest tighten. I reach across the table to take my mother's hand.

“...We're all afraid, Mom. ...I spent a long time feeling afraid. But then I found my friends.” I feel a
smile form on my mouth. “...And now you and I have each other, too.”
She smiles back at me. “Even that feels a little frightening, though. ...I thought I was dead and
gone...”

“I think you and Taylor might be able empathize with each other about that.” We lapse into
silence for a moment, sipping on our coffee. Then as a thought occurs to me, I feel a frown
crease my forehead. “Hey...Mom...?”

“Yes?”

“...When I first saw you again at the Prescott masquerade, you were dressed like Flora Sullivan.”

“Like who...?”

“The Bride? The Vaanti Bride? The woman who was one of the Vaanti's first human ancestors?”

“Oh, is that who I was dressed as? You mentioned her, but I don't know if you ever told me her
name.”

I feel my frown deepen. “...Why that costume? If you didn't know anything about her...?”

My mother shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. “To tell you the honest truth, the costume
turned up in a package on my doorstep. The return address was from Rourke International.
Although I realized the sensible thing to do might have been to throw it away, I figured that
Rourke wasn't actually managing the company anymore, and in fact, my own daughter was in
charge now--”

“Well, with Aleister.”

“Of course. ...I thought maybe you had realized I was alive and you were trying to reach out to
me. In the box, though, all I found was the costume with a note telling me to wear it to the
Prescott masquerade. Oh, and of course a ticket to the ball. The handwriting wasn't yours,
though...”

“May I see the note? If you still have it?”

“Well...all right. I think I might still have it in the junk drawer here...”

She goes to open the drawer and rummage through it. I hear the rattle of pens and pencils for a
moment, and then she returns to the table with a folded piece of lined flashcard paper. I take it
from her and unfold it. I study the note, with its hand-printed letters neat and precise, each one
perfectly placed between the blue lines. Each stroke of the pen is bold, as if whoever wrote it
was pressing hard. It's instantly familiar. I saw it once in a small book that Zahra was passing
around while Taylor and Jake were off on their honeymoon. I saw it before that, as I hunched
over a piece of paper in Rourke's office at The Celestial with Taylor and Aleister, laboriously
working out the password to his computer. Taylor pressed the pen hard to the page, her tongue
caught between her teeth and her forehead creased with concentration as she matched
constellations to names and months, and the pen left behind neat, precise printed letters.

...The note that brought my mother into my path was the work of the Endless.

Eva

It takes a bit of...persuasion, but the two petty crooks eventually give us a lead on Caleb.
Unfortunately, that lead is irritatingly at least thirty miles outside the Northbridge city limits, in
some podunk town halfway to Hartfeld. Seems Caleb wasn't keen to stay in Northbridge with
Stonewall still at large. He's taken up with a squatter gang in some abandoned buildings at the
edge of a forest preserve. Kenji and I have to park our car on the side of a crumbling road and
hike up a hill through a maze of trees to reach the place. I wait to put my mask on until we're
safely concealed by the trees. Following my lead, Kenji transforms into Talos when he's sure
the coast is clear. Ultimately, though, it seems are caution was unnecessary, since we can't find
anyone in the derelict village. But it is clear that people are still living here, if not legally, than at
least relatively comfortably. There are mattresses, pillows, and blankets on the floors. Portable
generators in each abandoned home power space heaters, fans, lights, microwaves, portable
stoves, and mini fridges stocked with bottled water. An unlocked footlocker contains non-
perishable edibles. There's no running water, but there are porta-potties. I don't know how
they keep clean here, but maybe they aren't overly concerned with that. At the least, there are
bottles of hand sanitizer and a first aid kit under the sink.

“Well, this place seems...not terrible,” Kenji remarks. “Well-stocked. Mostly liveable...”

“If you don't mind the faint smell of urine and...other stuff...” I mutter, well aware that I am
breathing through my mouth as much as possible.

“Now if we could only find...” He trails off abruptly, his gaze drifting to the window. “Oh! Well,
speak of the devil.”

I follow his gaze and see Caleb coming down the hill with a backpack on his shoulders. I press
my back flush against the wall, keeping out of sight as I watch him. He glances furtively over his
shoulder, but doesn't peek in our direction. When he seems satisfied that he's alone, he creeps
toward another abandoned building. I slip towards the door, keeping him in my sight.
Stretching out a hand, I gather my power. It's taken me awhile to gain as much control over
time as I have now. At first, I was limited to slowing it down within the field, and I couldn't
control who was affected, or how long it lasted, or how slow time went for them. But I have
been practicing. While slow motion is still my speciality and the most useful, I've also learned
how to accelerate time. I've gotten better at controlling the speed of it, too. For now, though, I
go with the old standby. I reach out, grasping time around Caleb and stretching it like a piece of
taffy. Within the narrow field, time slows to a crawl, and Caleb moves like he's suddenly
swimming in syrup. I hear him swear under his breath.

“MINUET!” he groans. “What the hell?!”

I narrow the field further as Talos comes up behind him to wrap his arms around him. Caleb's
arms are pinned to his sides. As I withdraw the slow-motion field entirely, moving into his line
of sight, he struggles, his expression irritated more than anything.

“Don't try anything funny,” Talos warns. “You can't do much damage to me from your current
position.”

“I'm not planning on doing anything funny!” he whines. “At least nothing that would concern
you two idiots! What the hell do you want with me!”

“Just information,” I purr. “We want to know where Silas Prescott held you and Dragonness.”

He blinks. “...That's it? I'd have thought she'd have told you.”

“Unfortunately, she was a little distracted with the task of protecting Northbridge from
Prescott,” Talos says flatly.

Caleb frowns. “Why do you need to know?”

“We need access to the Prism Gate. We understand that Prescott repaired it, and it was
contained in the same facility where he held you.”

He starts to struggle again, his eyes darting back and forth. “Look...guys...I got some stuff I gotta
take care of before Gigi gets back...”

“Gigi?” Talos repeats. “You got yourself a girlfriend?”

Caleb lets out a bitter bark of laughter. “Gigi? A girlfriend? Good one. I wouldn't wish that
sadistic bitch on my worst enemy.” In an instant, his smile fades and his head snaps back up. He
looks around wildly again, almost as if he's worried that this Gigi person heard him. “Look, the
point is, I gotta take care of this stuff. If I tell you what you need to know, will you let me go?”

Talos and I exchange a glance. His eyes may be mostly concealed by a bronze film, but the brief
incline of his head tells me what I need to know. I pin my gaze on Caleb.

“Start talking. Tell us what we need to know, and I won't leave you moving in slow-motion for
Gigi to find.”
Blaire Hall

Cassandra Chandler. Who is Cassandra Chandler? Apparently, she used to work for my
company, but she died about twenty-seven years ago. Back then I was still climbing the ladder
at Mansingh Transglobal, not yet CEO, but well on my way. Her personnel files don't seem to
exist anymore, at least not anywhere that I can reach them. I would have left it there, but the
fact that Everett Rourke Senior was asking...my daughter's father-in-law...the man whose
insanity almost got her killed...

I can't just leave it at that. Her name keeps creeping into my mind when I should be focused on
other things. She's a song that's gotten stuck in my head, an itch at the back of my mind that
needs scratching. I should be asleep right now, but instead, I'm digging on the internet for a
ghost. I let Rourke keep talking long enough to gather that she died in an aviation accident, so
that's where I begin. It takes almost an hour of clicking and searching and chasing down clues
like breadcrumbs, but at last, I come across an obituary from a New York City paper. I sip at tea
that's long gone cold while I read it.

Matthew Chandler and his wife, Cassandra (nee Sullivan) of Manhattan were victims of
Wednesday's deadly plane crash. Cassandra, originally of Boston, MA, received both her BS in
Communications and her Masters in Computer Science from Hartfeld University before moving to
New York City to work for Mansingh Transglobal as a researcher. It was in Manhattan that she
met Matthew, a history scholar who worked for the local library. The couple lived in SoHo.
The couple is survived by a seven-month-old daughter, Taylor Rose. Cassandra is survived by one
sister, Molly (Robert) Fisher, of Riverside, CA.

...Taylor. Taylor Chandler. So that's it. Cassandra Chandler was the mother of Taylor Chandler.
The girl who spent five years in suspended animation because of Rourke's insane obsession
with her. I exhale slowly. It's no mystery why he would want information on her. What exactly
made him fixate on that girl is anyone's guess, but obviously anyone associated with her would
fascinate him, too.

Still...why, after five years, would he just be looking into Taylor's family now? Why now, when
he and I have not spoke for years, would he suddenly call me asking for information on this
woman? If he didn't know before that she had worked for Mansingh Transglobal, how did he
find out when he is supposed to be locked away in a hospital for the insane?

I push back from my desk and stand up, wandering toward the kitchen. I need to put on a pot of
coffee. I realize now I'm not going to be sleeping very much tonight.
 Chapter 23: A Scientific Approach
Summary:
The two teams put their heads together to bring Tahira home.

Notes:
Good lord, this chapter took awhile. It was going to go on a bit longer, but I thought I should get
it posted so no one started thinking I'd abandoned it. ^_^ Enjoy!
Chapter Text

Taylor

Dead security screens gleam black on either side of me as I struggle down the hallway of MASADA,
heading for the hangar. Mike and I support Jake between us, each of us tucked under one arm,
hugging his waist. His steps are heavy with effort, his breath coming shallow and labored. While
Kele and Craig keep us covered, Aleister and Zahra keep pace with us, unlocking hatches in front
of us and closing them behind.
“Hold on, Jake,” I murmur. “Just hold on. We're almost there. Just a little further.”
“I'm...feeling kinda funny, Princess,” he mumbles, his voice tight with agony.
“You are funny,” I retort. “You're hilarious. ...Stay with me, okay? You're gonna be fine. We just
need to get you some place safe you can rest.”
Behind Jake's head, Mike catches my eye, and a fearful, knowing glance passes between us. We
won't know the extent of the damage until Michelle can get a look at him, but Jake definitely
doesn't look well.
“I see Estela's group!” Zahra announces triumphantly. “They have Taari!”
A hatch opens in front of us, and the other half of our group streams through, led by Estela and
Varyyn. Sean, Michelle, and Seraxa are behind them, Seraxa cradling Taari on her hip. The Vaanti
child has his arms around his foster-mother's neck, his face pressed into her shoulder; it's a
posture that's almost foreign on him, the pose of a terrified child.
“Shit!” Michelle hisses as her eyes fall on Jake. “What happened to him?!”
“Lundgren happened,” I reply grimly. “We have to get him some place safe.”
Cold dread is growing in my belly. A vague sense of foreboding skitters up the back of my neck and
raises goosebumps on my skin.
“The hangar is just this way,” Michelle says. “Wake up, Taylor.”
I shake my head to clear the cobwebs. “Sorry. Let's go.”
Wake up, Taylor... The thought comes to my mind unbidden. We're in the hangar now, cramming
into the chopper. Mike's in the pilot's seat, Zahra climbs in beside him. I curl up on the floor with
Jake cradled in my lap, and the others squish in like Tetris pieces.
You've been here before. Get out. The thoughts are louder now. A headache is starting to build
behind my eyes.
“Varyyn,” I mutter. “What are you trying to say? Can't you just talk to me?”
Varyyn ignores me, his attention focused on Mike. “Why aren't we lifting?”
“There's a problem,” Mike replies grimly. “They've grounded us. They might have messed with
some of the equipment...”
“It's a signal,” Zahra says flatly. “I might be able to override it, but I'd need to...”
Taylor, you're dreaming! The voice in my brain is screaming now, the pain and pressure building
unbearably. Zahra's words are drowned in the pounding of my blood against my eardrums. She's
leaving the chopper...why is she leaving the safety of the chopper...?

Wake up, Taylor! Wake up! Wake up, or you're going to watch her die!

I open my eyes in the darkness of my own bedroom. The faint tremor of my startled awakening
ripples through the mattress and shakes my husband out of a deep sleep. He sits up sharply,
groping blearily for me. My trembling hand finds his and my fingers close as tight as I can
manage. His free hand pushes sweaty strands off hair off my forehead.

“You okay, Taylor? ...Bad dreams again?”

“...I'm...I'm okay...” I assure him when I've caught my breath. “...I fought back this time.”

***

“Are you sure you want to do this alone?” Jake strokes my cheek tenderly, searching my face as
I stand in the doorway with my purse on my shoulder. I step forward to give him a quick peck
on the cheek.

“It will be better coming from me.”

“I just don't like the idea of you being alone with him.”

I sigh a little. “Jake, he's my uncle. I lived with him for twenty years. Please stop acting as if he's
going to murder me every time I'm left alone with him.”

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets, pouting a little. “...I just don't like the way he treats you.”

“Neither do I. But come on. I'm tough. I can take it. And it's more likely to end well if I'm the one
asking.

“Taylor...” He trails off, pursing his lips. Finally, he sighs. “I trust you. I trust your judgment.
Just...call me if you want backup, okay? Seriously, I'm gonna hang out in the nearest coffee shop
with my phone on the table.”

I chuckle, tapping his nose playfully. “Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything else.”
 ***

I drop Jake at the coffee shop and continue on to my aunt and uncle's house. Uncle Rob lets me
in.

“Hey, pumpkin. Aunt Molly had a bit of a crisis at work, so it's just us.”

“That's okay. As I mentioned, you're the one I wanted to see anyway. ...What kind of crisis?”

“Oh, one of her patients having complications from surgery that she just wanted to check on.
You know how it goes.”

“Right.”

“Well, take a load off. Not that you look like you have much load to take off yet.”

“Well, I am only thirteen weeks or so,” I reply, moving towards the living room. “River's only
the size of a goldfish. ...I'm showing a little, though. But that's just my swelling uterus.”

“Well, I can't tell. Do you want anything to drink? Or eat? Any cravings I should be aware of?”

I try not to let my irritation show. This is not a good time for me to be picking a fight with him.
Besides, he is trying to be thoughtful in his own slightly annoying way.

“Peanut butter has been the big one,” I confess. That makes him smile.

“You still like chocolate and bananas?”

“So far.”

“Then how about I go with an old favorite? Chocolate-banana-peanut-butter milkshake?”

In spite of myself, I feel a genuine smile on my lips. “Only if we can drink them out by the pool.”

“You got it, pumpkin.”

About twenty minutes later, we're stretched out on lounge chairs on the balcony. We started
out by the pool, but the smell of chlorine started getting to me almost immediately. I've been
nursing my milkshake, taking care with my touchy stomach, holding each mouthful on my
tongue to let it warm before swallowing. Uncle Rob has already finished his. He watches me
with something like fascination as I take another sip. When I meet his gaze, he clears his throat.
“So. You had something you wanted to talk to me about?”

I wait a moment to warm and swallow my mouthful before setting the glass on the table. I
figure it's better to just come right out and say it, but I do need to prepare myself.

“...I need you to give Jake some time off. About two weeks. ASAP.”

Before I've even finished talking, he groans, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair.
“...Taylor...”

“I'm going to Northbridge and I need him to come with me. I know you don't like the idea of just
giving him time off whenever he asks for it, but this is important. Important enough that he was
willing to invent a dead relative to force your hand.” He looks sharply at me, and I meet his
gaze, locking eyes. “I told him to trust you. I told him to let me ask you since I'm the one who
needs you to give it to him.”

He purses his lips. His eyes never leave my face, and I can see him processing my words
carefully. “...Will you tell me why?”

“Exactly why? No. I don't think I can do that.” I am quiet for a long moment. “...It has to do with
something that happened to me on La Huerta.”

“Have you tried going back to that therapist?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “I did go just one other time. And I may go back in the future. But
that's not really relevant here. There is something I need to do. And I need him with me. ...I
can't do it without him.”

He folds his arms, scowling. “You're not really giving me a lot to go on.”

“I know. That's by design.” I sigh. “...Look...Uncle Rob...some things happened to me on that

island that I just can't talk about to you or Aunt Molly. Not yet. Possibly not ever. ...But Jake was
there. Jake and Diego and our other friends...”

He doesn't answer right away. He breaks his gaze from mine and looks up at the umbrella
stretched over us. I look up there, too. I count the spokes, notice that one is slightly bent. I study
the way the light filters through the leafy pattern that runs unbroken over the umbrella like
Celtic knotwork.

“I don't know if you're even aware what your disappearance did to me and your aunt.” He
sounds a little hurt.

“I guess I don't,” I admit. “...Will you tell me?”

He is quiet a moment longer. He almost seems to be gathering his resolve.

“The first six months were kind of a blur. Obviously, we realized something was wrong when
you and Diego weren't home when we thought you were going to be. That was the first time in
years that we spoke to Ramona and Eduardo Soto. The four of us spent a week just camped in
the living room with the 24-hour news channel on TV, our phones all in front of us...”

“...Like Jake and Diego and...and I did during the Battle of Northbridge.” I nearly mentioned
Varyyn, too, but caught myself in time. Uncle Rob pauses, considering, but he doesn't answer
that directly.

“We learned pretty quick that it wasn't just the two of you missing. Every student who had won
that trip was missing. And after that...every day it seemed like someone else came forward to
say that someone who had recently gone to La Huerta hadn't come back when they were
supposed to. It was as if there had been some major disaster on the island that somehow had
been totally missed. And once that was clear, there was the nightmare of waiting for
investigators to come back with information. But it was like the island didn't want its secrets to
be discovered. Storms. A small erruption that made it impossible for planes to get through. One
disaster after another. I went to one authority after another, bribing, begging,
threatening...Your aunt and I went through every stage of grief over those six months. ...We
were even picking fights with Ramona and Eduardo.”

“Picking fights? What about?”

“We accused them of turning their backs on their son for his sexuality. ...They accused us of
never appreciating our daughter.”

His use of the D-word makes me freeze. I suppose legally, I could be considered his daughter.
They did offically adopt me. ...But neither he nor Aunt Molly has ever called me that. Diego's
parents have always called me “mija,” and even though they used the same nickname for every
young girl in their neighborhood, it had always felt to me like an unofficial adoption. I have
always been the Sotos' honorary daughter. I just lived with an aunt and uncle who were
technically legally responsible for me.

“...The really frustrating thing is that both sides were right. And both sides knew both sides
were right. But we were all too angry for awhile just to express remorse and cry together. We
got to that stage somewhere around Christmas. ...The first major 'first' for both families. The
first major holiday without our kids. The first, we thought, of many. Aunt Molly and I wanted to
get you kids our usual obscene haul of useless presents, make sure you ate well while we were
out at all our usual holiday parties, and come home to find you both passed out in your room
with Christmas specials still going on TV. ...The Sotos...they just kept thinking back to when you
kids were younger and they were the ones to take you in over Christmas. ...Basically, that was
when we all finally admitted that neither of you kids had been appreciated the way you should
have been. ...Aunt Molly and I had been off at parties when we could have been spending time
with you watching Christmas specials. Ramona and Eduardo had lost three years' worth of
Christmases with Diego that they were never going to get back now. ...Christmas Eve, the four
of us got together and just cried the whole night.”
I'm staring at my uncle now, numb with these revelations. I could have imagined Aunt Molly
crying over me. ...But Uncle Rob...?

“...Then,” he continues, “...In January...”

“...The others were found,” I finish softly. “...Diego and the others.”

“Diego. Your classmates. The missing hotel guests. ...But not you.”

“Not me,” I agree softly.

“There was hope. And then it was gone. But only for Molly and me. Everyone else got their
people back. For everyone else, the nightmare was over. But for us, it was just beginning. All
over the news, they said how lucky it was that the whole situation didn't come out worse. Only
one casualty out of potentially thousands. But...the one casualty was ours. ...I almost put my foot
through the TV more than once. ...Molly and I could barely talk to the Sotos anymore. They had
their kid back. They had their second chance. We didn't get that.”

“You have it now,” I point out. “I mean...I'm here...”

“Yeah. You are. And now that you are, I don't know what the hell to do.”

I don't really know how to answer that. I have memories of a lifetime spent with him and my
aunt. At first, all the memories that didn't include Diego felt false. Like dreams, or scenes from a
TV show. I watched myself acting, convinced that I could see the special effects, the camera
crew just out of frame. At the place where every memory turned fuzzy, I felt sure the actors
playing my aunt and uncle had just heard a director yell, 'Cut!' and dropped their characters to
walk off set for a coffee break. Gradually, those memories have become reality as the timelines
have merged and repaired themselves. And with that reality, there has come all the hurt and
anger and resentment of being a child unwanted by the people who were supposed to love her.
But...my aunt and uncle aren't evil. They aren't cruel. Except for one moment that hangs
between me and my uncle, they weren't physically abusive like Marcus Gayle. They were
certainly neglectful to a point, but they never belittled me like Everett Rourke did to Aleister, or
placed me under the kind of pressure that Grace got from Blair Hall. They never rejected me
like Diego's parents rejected him. I needed more from them than what I got. They did not
do well with their parenting. But for what our situation together was, they could have done
much worse.
“...Uncle Rob...it was never all bad, you know. ...I have good memories, too. Of Aunt Molly, and of
you. I remember you teaching me to swim and ride a bike. I remember you helping me and
Diego build forts out of sheets and blankets all over this house, even though Aunt Molly
complained about the mess we were making. ...You used to wrestle with us and give us
piggyback rides.”

He sighs. “Those were the only parts of fatherhood I wanted. ...The fact is, I didn't want to be a
father. I wanted to be an uncle. I don't have any siblings, and with as much trouble as your
parents had getting pregnant, I was pretty sure you'd be the only niece I ever had.” He smiles
faintly. “The day I met you in person was just before your parents went off on vacation. They
came to stay with us for a week before driving back to New York so that your mom and Molly
could spend some time together beforehand, and so that you could get used to us. I picked you
right up and said right in front of your parents, 'I'm gonna spoil you rotten, kiddo'.”

I feel a smile on my own mouth. “How did my parents react?”

“Your dad didn't say much. Your mom just sighed and made me promise she'd get you back in
one piece.”

“...But she didn't get me back at all...”

“No. ...The thing is...I was willing to put up with the diaper-changing and the feeding for a month
or so because I thought I'd give you back to your parents at the end. ...But all I'd ever really
wanted to be to you was a cool uncle. The kind who'd built pillow forts with you or take you to
amusement parks and movies and buy you all the toys your parents said you didn't need. I
wanted to see you a few times a year and slip you ten bucks every time without worrying about
whether you were being spoiled. I wanted to buy you ice cream and let your parents worry
about making you eat your vegetables.”

“You've said similar things before. So has Aunt Molly. ...She says that's why you hired Ramona
Soto.”

“Yeah, I guess it was.”

“...I know it was hard for you, rearranging your life to fit me in. I'm not...I'm not going to say I
can't appreciate that. Or that I'm not grateful that you did it. ...But I was just a kid, Uncle Rob. I
never asked for my parents to die. I never even asked to be born. ...I can't even remember my
parents' faces. For as long as I can remember, you've been my legal guardians. ...And I've grown
up knowing that you didn't really want me around. Especially you.”

“...I'm sorry.”

I am quiet for another long moment. I don't look at Uncle Rob. I'm not sure I can. “...I need to do
this. I need to go to Northbridge. I need Jake with me. ...So I need you to give him the time off.”

“...All right.”

Diego

We leave for Northbridge early Tuesday morning, taking Allie's car to a private airport where
Aleister has promised to have a plane fueled and ready for us. As we approach the wide-body
jet on the tarmac, with its airstair already lowered, Jake and I exchange an amused look. I point
to the name written above the cabin windows in flowing script.

“Looks like we've got Castor this time,” I remark.

“'Castor'?” Allie repeats.

“Castor and Pollux were apparently Everett Rourke Senior's two favorite planes in his entire
private fleet,” Jake explains. “The most high-tech, the most luxurious, the most everything.
Damned fun to fly, too.”

“I think Aleister takes special pleasure in being able to command those two planes to ferry his
friends around when we need ferrying.”

“Don't think you've been in either Castor or Pollux yet,” Jake says thoughtfully. He grins at his
wife. “So get ready to feel like a real princess.”

“It sure looks a lot bigger than what we need for two pilots and three passengers,” she remarks.

“Well, yeah!” I agree. “The interior has more space than my parents' place in Riverside! It's got
an office, a bedroom, a dining room...”

“Inside a plane?” She shakes her head bemusedly. “Jesus, and I thought my folks liked to show
off.”

“Come on, you know Molly and Rob Fisher have got nothing on Everett Aleister Rourke the
First.”

“True. I think a private jet would have been a little much even for their tastes, let alone one
with an honest-to-god bedroom. ...Besides, after what happened to my mom, it's not like Aunt
Molly would be willing to use it much.”

We load our suitcases into the cargo bay and board the plane, entering at the lavish office. Allie
whistles lowly. “Good lord, you weren't kidding. I thought those planes from La Huerta and
Northbridge were fancy, but this is insane.”

“Yup. It's also the only way to travel.” I slip my shoes off and flop down on a sectional sofa,
leaning back on the soft throw pillows.

“Careful, pup,” Jake snorts. “The laws of physics still work in this thing, so stay upright and
buckled in until we get the plane level, got it?”

Varyyn chuckles, settling into one of the cushy mounted seats by a round formica table. “Come
sit beside me, my love. Let me hold your hand.”
“Well, I can't possibly resist that invitation.” I pull myself off the couch and go to sit beside him,
reaching for his hand. Allie sighs as she sinks into a seat across from us.

“I wish I had a hand to hold,” she grumbles. “But my husband has to fly the damn plane.”

Jake bends to kiss her. “You can come join Mike and me up in the cockpit once we're level,
okay? For now, you should stay put here.”

She returns his kiss. “Very well. I will yield to the captain this time.”

The three of us settle in as Jake and Mike move up to the cockpit. Allie grabs one of the blankets
and drapes it over her legs. I look across the table at her.

“What kind of time off were you able to get for Jake?”

“Two weeks. With luck, we'll have figured out how to get Tahira back by then.”

“With all the Catalysts working together, plus Mike, plus Varyyn, plus Tahira's family and
friends? I think we can probably work it out quick enough.” I smile reassuringly, trying not to
show that I'm still nervous about the whole situation. “In any case, two weeks is a little more
than you were expecting, isn't it?”

“...Yeah...but I think Uncle Rob was feeling guilty.”

“About what?”

“...Everything. ...Lost time. The way he treated me.” She is quiet for a moment. “...He was telling
me about those six months that everyone was looking for us. Before...before I gave myself back.
Apparently, he and Molly were fighting with your parents about who had been the worse
parents. They accused your parents of turning their backs on you, and your parents accused
them of never appreciating me.”

“Both are unfortunately true,” I sigh. “...After...after I came back and you didn't, I tried to talk to
them sometimes. But I think they found it pretty hard to look at me and see me without you.”

She stares at me for a long moment. The plane starts to taxi toward the runway. There is
something distant in her gaze that's somehow penetrating at the same time. After several
seconds of her staring, I start to squirm.

“...Allie...? Something wrong? Because you're kinda freaking me out.”

She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “...Sorry. I just...it was weird to hear you talk about
those five years between when I left and when I came back as if I'd had a childhood you could
remember and a family you could go back to.”
“Well, you did. In this timeline.”

“But...you still didn't believe I was coming back.”

“No,” I admit. “As far as I knew, you were gone for good.”

“Did you know why I was gone for good? Did you know that I hadn't really existed?”

I open my mouth to reply, then close it again, frowning. ...Did I know that? In this repaired
timeline, did I know that a timeline without her existed? I am silent, turning that question over
in my mind. I ponder it as Jake announces the impending take-off from the cockpit. I keep
pondering it as the plane gathers speed and lifts off the tarmac. My ears plug and pop and plug
and pop again. The plane clears the clouds. I know that there was a timeline where she never
existed before the island. I know that I once grew up without her support and love. That in one
timeline, I willed her into being as we crossed into the time bubble. I know that I didn't believe
she was coming back after she saved the world. And...only months ago, I was finding the first
evidence of the life we'd spent together. But...what was my first clue that she was returning?
What was the first impossible sign that everything I had once imagined was real?

“...I'll be honest, Allie. I'm starting to forget that whole timeline.”

She looks genuinely startled. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, obviously I know it existed. But don't ask me for details, because I don't think I
can give you any.”

She exhales slowly, her eyes wide as she settles back in her seat. “Wow. That...that's great.”

“...It is?”

“Well, duh. I mean, given a choice between a timeline where you grew up lonely and one where
I was there with you, which do you think I would rather you remember?”

“Well, when you put it like that...” I rub the back of my neck. “But you still grew up an orphan
whose adopted parents neglected her.”

She shrugs. “I had you. ...And this means my entire existence wasn't watching my family die
over and over again only to end up leaving everyone. I'll take it.”

I smile. “I think...I think in this timeline, I spent those five years remembering both timelines
with equal clarity. I think I still believed that for all intents and purposes, you were gone. I
didn't know that Vaanu was your biological father. None of us learned that before you did. I
remember wondering about your biological parents, about the fact that your aunt and uncle
were always so secretive about them. I know growing up we put that down to your aunt never
really dealing with her grief, but after the island I started to suspect there were other things
they weren't telling us. ...A part of me always believed there was a way to bring you back. But I
never really knew where to start, and it still seemed that whatever your history on the planet,
you had still been born for us, and you had still given your existence for us, and I was afraid to
hope.

“I think at some point I lost touch with your aunt and uncle, and the timeline where you existed
started to get fuzzier. Fuzzy enough that I convinced myself it wasn't real. I stopped talking
about you to my parents, and I guess they didn't want to press me on the issue. ...Or else, they
were forgetting you, too. But...then the whole Prism Gate thing happened, and I started to get
my memories back.”

“...And now you can't remember the timeline where I didn't exist? Even when you think back to
those five years?”

I shrug. “I think it's like any memory, Allie. Most of it fades with time, but the strong ones stand
out. You being part of my life makes a stronger memory than me being lonely.”

“This is your captain speaking,” Jake's voice sounds from the cockpit. “The plane is now level, so if
a certain princess wants to come up to the cockpit to keep a couple of ace pilots company so a
certain puppy can have some alone time with Papa Smurf, she would be welcome.”

Allie chuckles, undoing her seatbelt. “I've been summoned.” She stands, moving toward the
cockpit. “You fellas enjoy yourselves. I hear tell there's a bedroom in this bird.”

I watch her go. When she's out of sight, I turn back to Varyyn, who's smiling softly.

“She's getting stronger,” he remarks.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Remember, she and I are psychically linked. I have sensed her coming back into
herself lately.”

I exhale slowly. “Good. That's very good. I think she's gonna need to be strong for this.” I meet
Varyyn's eyes. My lips are drawn to his so suddenly that it even startles me. I let my tongue slip
between his parted lips to taste the inside of his mouth. He returns the kiss, his hand coming up
to cup my cheek. After a moment, he breaks the kiss to press his forehead to mine.

“She is strong, my love,” Varyyn murmurs. “She will make it through this.”

“I know,” I whisper. And somehow, at least in this moment, I do know. I believe him. I believe
that Allie is strong enough to bring Tahira back safely, and be safe herself. I've spent enough
time worrying. Besides...Varyyn's hand is creeping under my shirt.

“Shall we do as Taylor suggested? Find the bedroom?”

I laugh. “You can be such a horn dog.”

“Hmm?” He bats his eyes innocently. “I don't understand that term.”

“Liar,” I snort. “You've mastered cellphones and the internet, darling. You expect me to believe
you haven't picked up enough English slang to know what a horn dog is?”

“Well, perhaps I do.” He kisses my throat. “But when my fasted partner is the most beautiful
creature on the planet, how could I be blamed?”

“Well, you got me. When my fasted partner has such a silver tongue, how could I be blamed for
being puddy in his hands? ...It's not a long flight, though.”

“Life is not a long flight, my love. We must cherish every moment of it.”

Taylor

I spend most of the flight in the cockpit, sitting in the third seat behind Jake and Mike, swapping
stories.

“I gotta say, Goldilocks,” Mike remarks, “smoking pot while trespassing on an orange grove has
got to be the single most California story of teenage rebellion I have ever heard.”

I snort. “'Goldilocks'? Is that your version of 'Princess'?”

“Sorry, Princess. You know I picked up the habit from him. ...You could let everyone call you
Allie like Diego does.”

I shake my head. “Uh-uh. That would be like letting anyone but you call me Princess.” I push
myself between them just long enough to peck his cheek. “And that would just feel wrong.”

“I suppose you're right.”

I sit back, putting a hand to my belly. It's definitely starting to swell a little more, though the
baby is still too small for me to feel any movement.

“Of course, that makes me wonder what kind of nickname you'll give our baby if they turn out
to be a girl. It would be kind of weird for you to call both of us Princess.”

“Plenty of nicknames exist for a baby girl. Besides, I'm gonna have to meet our kid before I
decide what to nickname 'em.”
“They already have a name, but you have to wait to meet them before you give them a
nickname?”

“Hey, a nickname isn't like a name. It's more...organic than the name your parents give you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “More organic?”

“He's right,” Mike agrees. “Nicknaming is an art. One Grandpa here is still kind of a novice in.”
“Hey!” Jake reaches over to lightly punch his shoulder. “Who're you calling a novice?”

“Need I remind you about the bar in Portland three years ago? With the hot bartender? What
was it you called her?”

“Ahhh! Hey!” Jake's cheeks turn red. “I was very drunk! And so were you, by the way. I could tell
her about you hitting on that woman whose girlfriend happened to be sitting right next to her
with her freakin' arm around her shoulders the whole time.”
“Hey, tell her what you want to tell her! She's not my wife!”

“Seriously, Mike?” I chide him, making a face. “The woman's girlfriend was right there, and you
were still hitting on her? What exactly were you trying to do?”

“Okay, for the record, I was not hitting on her! We started a casual conversation about the fact
that she was getting her Master's degree in writing, and it just happened that the conversation
got increasingly weirder as we got drunker. I actually told her that she and her girlfriend made
a very lovely couple.”

“Yeah, you were also pretty hung up on the idea that writer girl should make her girlfriend into
a character in her next story.”

I snort. “Okay, note to self: be very careful letting you boys go drinking together. Seems you're
prone to trouble.”

“...Much as I hate to part company with you, Princess, we're gonna begin descent in a minute.
You might wanna head back and buckle up.”

“Oh, so soon?” I sigh.

“Afraid so. I have to concentrate on this part, and you tend to be a little distracting. Delightfully
so, but I'd rather not crash and kill us all because I'm thinking about how gorgeous you are.”

“Oh, very well.” I stand up and bend to give him one more quick kiss. “But make an
announcement for Diego and Varyyn's sake. I don't want to walk in on my brother and his
husband in the throws of passion.”
Jake does as I suggest. I don't say anything about the disheveled state Diego and Varyyn are in
when they return to the office and buckle up, but I can't help but smirk knowingly. They at least
have the sense to comb their hair before we land.

Aleister and Estela are waiting for us when we disembark at the airport in Northbridge. I greet
them both with hugs.

“Good to see you guys in person again.”

“And you,” Aleister agrees. “...Everything is ready whenever you are. We understand if you need
to rest awhile first.”

Jake comes up beside me, slipping his hand into mine. I grip tightly, shaking my head. “No. I
don't want to put it off any longer, and I don't want to make Tahira wait. Let's bring her home.”

***

We are taken to the abandoned clocktower in the center of Northbridge. Tahira's team have
been using it as their base of operations, Estela explains, and apparently they have been for
some time. I don't even have to ask about the Prism Crystal. I've been feeling it calling me since
I stepped off the plane, and its cry has only grown louder as we approached. It doesn't hurt me
the way it hurt Quinn to be pulled by the Island's Heart, or even the way it hurt me to feel the
time energy ripped out of me when I got close enough to the crystal pillar back on the island.
This time it actually feels...pleasant. Even pleasurable. Exciting. The only way to describe it is
that it's like being a kid in December, hearing the first strains of Christmas carols, opening the
first tab in my novelty Advent calendar to gobble the first tiny chocolate, writing the first draft
of my Christmas list. And as we get closer and closer to the clocktower, the anticipation and
excitement grow. Standing outside the clocktower, the excitement gives way to a contented
calm. It feels right, being here. I feel that I can empathize with Vaanu, how he must have felt
when we returned the completed Heart to the crystal pillar.

Tahira's team are all waiting for us, and so are the rest of the Catalysts. A massive object that
can only be the Prism Gate stands in the corner of the control room. The Prism Crystal is
mounted amidst wires and rods beside it, gleaming with pink fire. The set up is familiar. We
saw it five years ago in Theoretical Prismatics at MASADA.

“Hey! Look who's here!” Grinning, Raj bounds over to wrap me in a hug that, while not lacking
in enthusiasm, is somewhat gentler than his usual crushing embraces. He pulls back and ruffles
my hair, beaming. “Being careful not to crush the baby peanut.”

I chuckle. “Baby peanut appreciates that.”

Jake is cautiously approaching the Prism Gate, eyeing it warily. “So...this is the...um...?”
“The Prism Gate,” Dax confirms. “Let me tell you, getting it up here without Tahira's flight and
super strength was a massive pain. Luckily, Grayson is extremely useful for hiring things like
giant cranes.”

“Why did you have to move it up here?” Diego wonders. “Couldn't we have worked with it
wherever it was before?”

“Weellll...all my superhero-related research and stuff is here in the clocktower. I didn't want us
to have to keep moving back and forth.”

“That was a good call,” Michelle agrees. “Especially in Taylor's condition. Speaking of which:
Kenji, Eva, Craig, clear the couch. Taylor, lie down on the couch.”

Without waiting for any of us to respond, Michelle shooes Kenji, Eva, and Craig off the couch
with a few waves of her hands, and marches over to hook her arm through mine.

“Wait, what?” I sputter slightly as she drags me over to the couch, gently but insistently, and
pushes me to sit down.

“Come on, you knew this was coming. You're not going to do anything with that crystal until I'm
satisfied that you're healthy.”

“I did have a check-up two days ago,” I protest. “OB says everything looks fine.”

“Well, we've got tools the OB doesn't. Lie back.”

“What tools?” I ask, even as I do as she tells me. She smiles, reaching into her medkit and
pulling out a familiar orb. I laugh. “Iris!”

The hologram flickers to life, and Iris smiles placidly at me. “It is good to see you again, Taylor.”

“You, too! I'd hug you if you had a body.”

“With her help, this will all be a lot faster than it was when you first got back,” Michelle assures
me. “No need for needle sticks, either. Iris? A full medical scan, if you please.”

“Certainly, Michelle.” Her hologram vanishes for a moment as a blue beam of light runs
unhurriedly over my body, scanning from my head to my feet. She returns to her familiar
human shape. “Maternal temperature: 97.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Blood pressure: 125/82. Whole
blood count...”

She continues, rattling off letters and numbers that I can't entirely keep track of, while Michelle
nods thoughtfully.

“Um...what does all that mean?”

“Those are all good numbers,” she assures me. “You're doing just fine. What about the fetus,
Iris?”

“No abnormalities detected. Fetal heart rate is measured at 150bpm. Sex is--”

“Woah, hey!” I yelp. “Easy, Iris. We haven't decided if we want to be surprised or not!”

Iris smiles, looking amused. “Apologies.”

“Aww, man!” Craig grumbles.

“Relax, dude,” Raj says, nudging him with his elbow. “This just means we've got more time to
get the pool going!”

“Are you guys seriously betting on the sex of my baby?”

Grace giggles. “They did the same thing when I was pregnant with Reggie,” she confesses.

“But...Aleister must have already known...given that he saw it when Vaanu gave him the
magazine.”

Aleister smirks a little. “Yes. But I wasn't about to reveal it. Especially as Grace wanted to be
surprised. I can be very good at keeping a secret when I put my mind to it.”

“So far 'boy' has the most votes,” Craig informs me. “My money's on 'girl', though.”

Estela suddenly clears her throat. “...If everyone will excuse me for a moment, I just need to slip
downstairs for a moment.”

I frown, sitting up as she scurries for the door. “Why? Is something wro...” I trail off, as she's
already on her way downstairs before the sentence is fully out of my mouth. The room goes
silent as everyone exchanges confused glances.

Ten minutes later, we hear footsteps on the stairs outside. Estela returns, followed by a woman
carrying a briefcase. I instantly recognize the woman. She looks straight at me, shifting
uncertainly.

“...Hello, Taylor. I'm--”

“Olivia Montoya. I know.” I stand up, walking over to Estela's mother and extending my hand.
“I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you properly.”

She shakes my hand. “I must say, I never thought I would meet you.”
“Same,” I reply, chuckling mirthlessly. “Considering that when I first learned of your existence
you were dead.”

“...And I understand it is thanks to you that I am not dead now.”

“I had dearly wished to give everyone back what they lost. I am glad you ended up being
included in all that.” I look around the room. “But if everyone is here who needs to be, could we
get started? I'd really like to bring back someone else who's currently lost.”

“Agreed,” Rochelle says. “Where do we start? Taylor, I think you're the expert here. Or...at least
you know better than anyone else where to begin.”

I nod. “Firstly, I think I should try just touching the Prism Crystal. If it's my life energy, then
letting it actually come in contact with my body should provide us with some information at
least.”

“What kind of information?” Poppy asks.

“I don't know exactly. It might not even be information that's useful to our purposes. But we
should learn everything we can.”

“I quite agree,” Aleister says.

“Me too,” Dax adds, nodding. “That's the way science works sometimes.”

“I understand that's how science works,” Jake murmurs. “I ain't so keen on the idea of turning
my pregnant wife into a guinea pig...”

“Yes, my love, and you have expressed your concerns at every turn in this journey.” When Jake
scowls, I soften my words with a kiss. “Remember why I'm doing this, okay? Besides. I've never
been harmed by the crystals. Even liquified time crystal just knocked me out for a little while.”

“The last time you touched a crystal, you disappeared!”

“I still wasn't harmed. Just...changed.”

“That seems to be the worst that has happened to anyone who comes in contact with the Prism
Crystal,” Grayson says. “According to Hazel's research, coming in contact with the Prism Crystal
only effects people with the right genes, and so far it's only made them more powerful.”

I nod. “The people whose ancestors came in contact with the Island's Heart. ...Who is Hazel, by
the way?”

“A biologist who works for Prescott Industries. She's not...part of the inner circle, though.”
“...I see.”

“Anyway, those who aren't made more powerful by the Prism Crystal don't seem to be effected
at all unless they inject themselves with liquid prism.”

“I still don't understand how any of them survived that,” Jake remarks. “The Clockmaker said
liquified time crystal was highly toxic to humans.”

“A traitor to the Vaanti tried to poison Taylor with it on the island,” Varyyn says darkly. I glance
at him, a little surprised to hear him speak of Uqzhaal with such venom. Even if he has never
held the actions of the Endless against me, I would have thought he would still be at least
conflicted in his feelings towards the old shaman, who had been like family to him once. But I
suppose he has had five years to sort through his feelings and come down firmly on my side. I
can't say that I'm sorry for it.

“He tried to poison me with a crystal shard from Vaanu's body. The Prism Crystal is my life
force. And I'm half-human.” I shake my head. “Enough talk. I want to get this over with.”

I march toward the Prism Gate, but Jake catches my wrist. “Hang on, Princess. ...Just let me hold
your hand, okay?”

I can't hold back a smile at that. “Sappy idiot.”

“Your sappy idiot.”

“All mine.” We approach the Prism Gate together, and I pluck the pink crystal from its mount.

I feel the affects almost immediately. I realize I have to abandon the kid-at-Christmas metaphor,
as what I'm feeling in this moment isn't quite so...G-rated. Pleasure floods my senses, the
sensation of someone's tongue between my legs replicated across every cell in my body. Then
orgasmic pleasure suddenly turns to agony as cold rushes in to take its place and suddenly
every cell feels the prick of frozen needles. My blood sings in my ears, my vision filling with
dark static. As abruptly as pleasure turned to pain, pain turns back to pleasure, rushing in with
voices and visions that flash and bring me to what can only be described as a climax before
flowing out of me in a satisfied sigh, leaving me warm and content. My heartbeat slows, and I
start to perceive my surroundings again. I'm on the floor, cradled in Jake's arms. His face and
the others clustered above me are fearful.

“Taylor!” Jake strokes my cheek with a trembling hand. “Stay with me, Princess. Can you hear
me?”

“I hear you,” I mumble languidly. Jake and the others sigh collectively in relief. He bends to kiss
my forehead.

“Are you all right?”

I feel my mouth lift in what feels like a very dopey grin. “I'm fine. ...Kinda wanna tear all your
clothes off right here.”

“Let's get you to sitting up before you try anything else,” Michelle says firmly, taking my wrist
between her fingers. “Iris? Any internal changes we should know about?”

“...Negative,” Iris replies after scanning me for a moment. “No damage either to Taylor or to the
fetus.”

“Did you...see or hear anything, Taylor?” Varyyn asks. As I sit up, I notice him rubbing his
forehead, grimacing. I frown, trying to collect my thoughts. There are images and sounds on the
edges of my mind, lingering there like fragments of a dream that leave impressions but nothing
solid to hold onto.

“I did...but I can't really get ahold of any of it.” I tip my head as I realize why he might be looking
like that. “...Did I send any of it to you?”

“In bits and pieces. Maybe between us, we can piece it back together. ...Does the name Marci
mean anything to you?”

Before I can reply, Dax looks up sharply. “Wait, what about Marci?”

“You know what that is?”

“Of course I know what she is, I made her! Machine-Augmented Recon Computer Intelligence.
MARCI. She's an AI that I created and uploaded into Tahira's supersuit to give her tactical
advice when Poppy and I aren't in the field with her.”

“You mean Tahira has her own Iris?” Quinn exclaims delightedly. “That's adorable!”

“Quinn!” Aleister yelps indignantly. “Iris is my mother, not a pet! A little respect, please!”

Dax blinks. “Wait, your AI is your mother?”

“Ehhh...” Aleister grimaces. “It's a long story, but basically, when my mother died, my father
found a way to preserve her consciousness as an AI. Hardly an ideal situation. ...Particularly
because he never bothered to tell me...”

“...I...see...” Dax shakes his head as if waking himself up. “We can come back to that. ...Why did
you ask about Marci, Varyyn?”

Varyyn opens his mouth to answer, but I beat him to the punch. “I heard her talking. Saying
something about how the atmosphere is breatheable. And a voice that must have been Tahira's
answering.” I stand carefully with Jake's help. “...It's coming back to me in pieces. I know what
we need, and I know what I need to do. ...Tahira's lost. Wandering and confused. Her only
chance is for me to go through the Prism Gate and guide her home.”
 Chapter 24: Into the Prism
Summary:
To bring back Tahira, Taylor must return to her father's homeworld.
Chapter Text

Jake

Alarm bells start sounding in my head, and I reach out to catch my wife's hand.

“Now, I know you ain't talking about going through that gate alone.”

Taylor meets my gaze steadily. “I don't think it will be necessary for me to go alone, no.” She
brings my fingers to her lips to kiss them. “Please try not to panic, okay?”

I can't help making a face. “Easy for you to say...”

“The problem that I see with that idea,” Rochelle says glumly, “is that the Prism Crystal was
never strong enough to create a portal to the world on the other side of it. Matter came through
the Gate to our side, but we could never send anything back.”

“No, it wouldn't be strong enough,” Olivia agrees. “What you're talking about is a portal akin to
the Lernaean Gate. The crystal shards were never strong enough to power that.”

“What I am talking about is something that is neither the Prism Gate, nor the Lernaean Gate,”
Taylor replies firmly. “Tahira isn't just on her parents' home planet. She's in the space between
realities. ...Like the first half of the Island's Heart and the Cygnus idol.”

“Aw, crap,” Zahra groans. “But the only way we know of to reach that place is--”

“By imbibing Elyys'tel's sap,” Varyyn finishes.

“We could get some,” I point out. “I mean, it'd be a little bit of a pain, but there's no reason Mike
and I can't just fly to La Huerta and grab a sample. I'm sure Seraxa wouldn't mind.”

“There...isn't any need to go to such lengths,” Varyyn murmurs.

“...Wait, what?” The Vaanti reaches out to take Diego's hand, and that's when I notice Diego
looking a embarrassed. Then he glances at Grace and Aleister, and they're suddenly looking
shifty, too. “...What's going on?”

“We...have a few bottles of tree sap,” Diego confesses. “We have for a few years now.”
I think it's a full minute before the ensuing silence is broken by Craig.

“Okaaaaaaaaay...um...why?”

“It was my idea,” Diego explains softly. “...I think it might be due to the weird timeline stuff that
been going on since Allie came back but...before our third reunion, I started wondering if there
was a way to bring her back. By the time we got to La Huerta, I had become pretty convinced
that she was out there somewhere. I...never got around to doing anything with them, but I
begged Seraxa to let me take samples. Grace and Aleister helped me figure out a way to
preserve them.”

“We used leftover stasis technology from the remains of the Observatory and MASADA,” Grace
explains. “...And Diego exaggerates when he says he begged. He only needed to ask. Seraxa was
actually more than willing to let him take samples.”

“...Oh...” Taylor blinks at them for a moment, then she frowns thoughtfully. “...Michelle...you
have a token from the Endless, don't you?”

“Uh...yeah. She gave it to me before she died. Or strictly speaking, she gave it to Rochelle to give
to me.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small clock on a chain. Or...two small clocks.
“You want to see it?”

Taylor expectantly holds out her hand, and Michelle passes her the clocks. She examines them
for a moment, and her eyes widen.

“...Oh, god...Oh, my god...!”

“What? What is it?”

“These are Anachronist time pieces! The same kind they used to create rifts back on the island!
I mean, I don't know how they work or what kind of powers they still have, but...” She looks
back at the Prism Gate and the glowing, gleaming Prism Crystal. “...We can do this. We have
everything we need.”

Rochelle looks up hopefully. “We do?”

Taylor meets her gaze and grins. “We have Anachronist timepieces. We have Elyys'tel's sap. We
have Liquid Prism. We have a scientist and an engineer who worked on the Prism Gate, and one
who worked on the Lernaean Gate and the Omega Project. We have the heirs to Everett
Rourke's empire as well as Silas Prescott's, and we have all Twelve Catalysts. We've got every
piece of the puzzle. We just need to put them all together.”

***

Ultimately, it takes a week of endless experimentation to 'put all the pieces together'. My role
mostly consists of bringing Raj's packed lunches the scientists, making sure they're stocked on
coffee, and generally being overprotective of my pregnant wife. Thankfully, I'm not the only one
nagging her so she won't forget to eat or sleep while she's trying to help the science as much as
she can. Diego and Michelle both have my back. Michelle has been playing the bad cop, and
she's such a good bad cop that Diego and I don't even have to be the good cops all that much. Of
course, the fact that she's pregnant means that Taylor is also a lot less resistant to our nagging
to begin with. But I know how important all this is to her, and I'm pretty sure the baby is the
only reason she isn't pushing herself way too hard.

But at last, we're told that they're ready to throw the switch. With all of us gathered together in
the tower, Rochelle and Olivia do the honors. The Prism Gate hums to life. The pulsing sphere of
energy that blooms between its arcs is familiar to me and the other Catalysts. We stepped
through a sphere like that once and ended up outside the time bubble in the burning, bubbling
red hell the rest of the world had become. What kind of world are we going to find on the other
side of this particular gateway?

“So...we step through here, and that'll take us to Tahira?”

“No,” Taylor replies. “Not quite. I and whoever comes through with me will have to inject a dose
of a serum made from liquid prism and Elyys'tel's sap. ...Michelle helped us develop that.”

“With some under-the-level help from Hazel,” Dax adds.

“The woman is a genius biologist,” Michelle remarks. “Remind me why she isn't part of your
inner circle?”

“It seemed safer to bring as few people into the circle as possible. Fewer targets for the bad
guys if you know what I mean,” Dax explains.

“My mother is the DA,” Kenji points out, “and we work directly with her. But we still haven't
told her that I'm Talos.”

“That's...got to get awkward,” Diego remarks.

“Okay, okay! Back up!” I yelp. “Princess, go back to the part where you're gonna inject that stuff
into your pregnant body?!”

“Jake, I'll be fine.”

“You can't know that!” I protest. “That's not a promise you can make me!”

“Yes, it is. I know I'm going to be fine.”

“How?! How do you know?! There hasn't been enough time to test it to a point where side
effects can be ruled out.” I take her face in my hands, gently but firmly forcing her to look at me.
“Taylor, look me in the eye and tell me there's no risk.”
She is quiet for a moment. Finally, she sighs. “There is a risk,” she admits. “There would always
have been a risk. There will always be a risk. ...But I trust Vaanu. I trust the visions I've been
given by him, and by the Prism Crystal. And those visions tell me that I'll be fine.”

There's not going to be any arguing with her on this, I can tell. Truthfully, I don't want to argue.
I want to bring home the hero who sacrificed herself for Northbridge. Taylor's cousin.
Rochelle's daughter. Dax, Poppy, Grayson, Kenji, and Eva's friend. But dammit, why's it always
got to fall on Taylor's shoulders? I press my forehead to hers.

“You ain't going alone. I'm gonna be right there with you.”

She had to know I was going to say that, but she doesn't call me on it, doesn't tease. She just
says, “Thank you.” Goddammit, she's scared. She's putting on her fearless face, but she's
terrified.

“I'm going with you, too,” Diego declares, unsurprisingly. Taylor pulls back, passing a glance to
Varyyn.

“Actually, Diego...you may want to pause a moment before you decide that.”

“What? Why?”

“Because, my darling,” Varyyn says, coming up behind his husband and cinching his arms
around his waist. “...I must remain behind. The idea is that my psychic connection to Taylor will
act as a tether, a line that she can follow back to our reality.”

“Oh...and...you don't think I should go with her...?”

Varyyn nuzzles Diego's neck, rocking him a little. “I believe the decision should be yours. I will
not tell you not to go when it is your best friend putting herself at risk. ...But I will worry, my
love.”

“I don't want to make you worry,” he admits. “...But...I can't let Allie go saving the day without
her sidekick. Besides, if you're supposed to be her psychic anchor, she might really need me
there. When we needed you to turn the Lernaean Gate back on, she needed my help to boost
the psychic signal.”

“That's true,” Taylor confirms. “I was kinda stuck on the edges of your consciousness until
Diego helped me out. I may have a better chance of making it back if he's with me.”

“Okay, we need to decide absolutely who's going,” Michelle declares, “Because we have a
limited number of doses here.”

“How many?”

“Eight. And there are four spoken for.”

“Four?”

“I'm taking one, too. No way you're going into this pregnant without a medic.”

“Okay, so we got room for four more on this adventure. Who else is in?”

“I am,” Mike and Sean chime in at the same time, which surprises no one.

“So am I,” Estela adds.

“That leaves one more spot open.” I glance at Craig, expecting him to jump in to back up his
friend. I think he's actually planning to do that, but before he can speak, Grayson cuts in.

“I'll go.” He looks at Taylor. “...You said that Tahira is lost and wandering. ...Doesn't it make
sense to send at least one person she knows and trusts?”

“...You're right. It does.”

“But why does it get to be Grayson?” Kenji grumbles.

“Look, I've known Tahira since college, and--”

“So have I!” Poppy protests. “She's my best friend!”

“Shouldn't it be me or Eva?” Kenji asks. “You know, the ones with the superpowers?”

“...Vaanu's homeworld is dead,” Taylor replies. “I'm not expecting there to be enemies.”

“...Except possibly my father,” Grayson murmurs. “It's likely he was taken to the same place
Tahira was.”

That silences everyone for a moment. I think Grayson has effectively killed any protests
Tahira's other friends might have about him being the one to come with us. And given our
experiences, it's pretty easy for the Catalysts to sympathize with daddy issues, especially those
of the “my daddy is a supervillain” variety.

“All right,” Michelle says. “If we're all decided, everyone who's coming with grab a tourniquet. I
hope you're all hydrated, because I have to find your veins and we don't have a lot of room for
error here. Taylor, you're first since you're kind of essential to this whole venture.”

I help Taylor secure the tourniquet on her upper arm. Something occurs to me and I frown,
looking up at Sean.

“Hey, Cap, you sure you wanna do this? I know they drug test y'all in the NFL, and I don't know
if we've ever figured out if Elyys'tel's sap turns up in your piss.”
“That is a fair point,” Michelle agrees. “We haven't really tested that so much. Maybe you should
stay behind. Give your place to Kenji or Eva.”

“...But...” Sean's face crumples a little as he looks at Michelle, and I feel a twinge of guilt. I may
have had a valid point, but it strikes me that I've just suggested he let his fiancee go through the
gate without him. Michelle clearly picks up what he's putting down, too, because she reaches
out to stroke his cheek.

“Hey now, don't give me that look. I'll be back before you know it.”

“Of course she will,” Eva says, stepping up to clap him on the shoulder. “I'll look after her as if
she were my own.”

She winks at Michelle, which makes Sean scowl slightly. “...Your own what, exactly?”

“My own fiancee, of course,” Eva purrs. “Unless you're afraid I'll steal her from you.”

Taylor claps a hand over her mouth, but not before I hear a snicker escape her. I smirk. So does
Sean, actually.

“Nah. That doesn't concern me. I got over that a long time ago.” He sighs, pulling Michelle in for
a deep kiss. “You just be safe without me, okay?”

“I will. But you have to let me go now, sweetie. I'm the one who has to inject everyone.”

Sean reluctantly lets her go. She manages to administer eight doses, including one to herself,
without incident.

“Okay, so it should hit in about ten minutes,” she says, pulling off her tourniquet and flexing her
arm. “This has been minimally tested--”

“I was the guinea pig!” Raj announces proudly. “I think I'm doing fine.”

“Yes, thank you, Raj. Anyway, the liquid prism portion of the serum should keep us more solid
to each other than when we drank the sap alone, but we're still going to look ghost-like to
everyone else, so nobody freak out. Rochelle, will you turn on the Prism Gate?”

Rochelle throws the switch and the Prism Gate hums to life.

“Once we've shifted,” Taylor continues with Michelle's explanation, “we'll pass through the
Gate.”

“And...we're sure we'll end up in the right place?”

“The coordinates to Vaanu's home planet were still in my mind from the time I was merged
with him. Coming into contact with the Prism Crystal seems to have brought them to the
surface.” Taylor's gaze shifts, growing distant. “...His world is still dead. ...We were alone on a
dead planet...just ghosts left there...”

I take her hand, lacing my fingers through hers. I let my other hand stroke the back of her head.
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“...We'll shift back when I touch the Prism Crystal again. At least, that's how it's been working. It
has to be me to touch it.”

With nothing else to do but wait, Sean sits beside Michelle and pulls her into his arms. She leans
against him, closing her eyes. Varyyn already has Diego clasped firmly to his chest.

“So...you've tried this stuff before?” Grayson asks, sounding a little nervous.

“Not strictly this stuff,” Taylor clarifies. “But we all once drank the sap of Elyys'tel. Well, all of us
except Varyyn, Mike, and Quinn. Quinn was sick, Varyyn was watching over her, and we hadn't
found Mike yet.”

“This stuff isn't exactly like the sap on it's own,” Raj explains. “That stuff put us right between
realities and gave us time control powers like Eva has. Also, we could see and hear people from
the past, but they couldn't see or hear us, and we couldn't see or here anyone from our own
time. With this stuff, I went all ghosty, and I could sort of see other people, but not as clearly as
we saw the Three Tribes' War. ...I could see Michelle and everyone a lot clearer. I could still sort
of affect time, though.”

“In short...this is going to be a new experience for everyone.”

“Uh...speaking of going ghosty, you guys are starting to get fuzzy,” Zahra points out. As she says
that, I realize that the kaleidoscope vision is starting to creep in. “Uh, Michelle and Diego might
wanna let go of their respective boy toys now...”

“She's right,” Dax says. “I know you guys were able to pass through each other when you drank
the pure sap, but I don't want to find out what might happen if you try to pass through people
who haven't been dosed.”

“Nor do I,” Michelle concedes, reluctantly pulling away. “If I somehow bruise all of my fiance's
internal organs, I won't be able to concentrate on anything.”

Varyyn gives Diego a lingering kiss. “Come back safely, my darling.”

“You know I can't stay away from you for long,” Diego murmurs back before hesitantly stepping
back.

Taylor's grip on my hand tightens. “...Are you with me?”

“'Til the end of forever, Princess.”

“Don't you dare leave my side.”

“Not for anything.”

Taylor and everyone else who took the serum is starting to look brighter. Their colors are more
vibrant. Meanwhile all the others are starting to look like photo negatives.

“I think it's ready,” Taylor murmurs, a quiver in her voice. “...I want you guys to know that I love
you all, and--”

“Yeah, I'm cutting you off right there, Taylor,” Zahra says firmly. “Last time you started talking
like that, you disappeared. And if you disappear again, I'm finding a way to bring you back just
to smack you.”

Taylor laughs. “Okay, fair enough. ...I think I have to go through first. Everyone who's going
through link up behind me.”

I hold my free hand out to Mike. He takes it and reaches for Diego. One by one, the eight of us
join hands, Eva and Grayson on the end. Taylor guides us toward the Prism Gate.

“Whatever you do, nobody let go.”

Before anyone can answer, she rushes toward the Gate, pulling sharply on my arm, tugging us
all behind her. In the next moment, I'm passing through the Prism Gate.

Eva

The journey is nothing like what I was expecting. I am not sure exactly what I was expecting,
since I have never been through an energy gate before, but it certainly wasn't this. Perhaps it
has to do with the fact that we're going to find Tahira, whose disappearance has caused so
much devestation, but I suppose I expected the journey to be much less...pleasant. But save for
an electric buzzing sensation on my skin, which I admit is unnerving, it's all bright light and
warmth. Until we actually land on solid ground again and I open my eyes to the barren world
around me. The rocky ground under my feet is red and dusty, the sky is a strange shade of
pinkish purple, and two moons gleam fuscia above us. Crystals sprout from the ground like
stalagmites made of rock candy. The air appears breathable, but it's just slightly too warm. I
look out over the sprawling landscape, jagged with cliffs.

“...What...where...?”
“We're here. Vaanu's homeworld.” Taylor looks around at the rest of us. “Is everyone okay?”

“I think we're all accounted for,” Diego replies. “Any chance you can reach Varyyn? Let him
know we're here? I'd hate to have him worrying...”

Taylor closes her eyes for a moment. “...I can almost reach him. Give me a boost?” Diego takes
her hands, closing his eyes. After another moment, Taylor nods. “I can reach him. ...He knows
we made it here.”

Diego exhales with relief, letting go of her hands. “Good.”

“So...how do we find Tahira in this place?” I look pointedly at Taylor. She seems to be the expert
here. The psychic one with the answers. She looks placidly back at me.

“Give me a moment. ...I think the crystals recognize me...” She frowns, turning toward one of the
giant pillars sprouting from the barren ground. “...Yes...I'm Vaanu's daughter. I'm looking for my
cousin. ...Do you know who I am...?”

From the crystal pillar, there comes a reply, an almost imperceptible flicker. Taylor gasps, a
hand flying to her mouth.

“What? What is it?”

“It's...her parents. ...My aunt and uncle.” She laughs, and the sound is slightly giddy. “...I've got
them on both sides of the family now...”

“Her parents are...in the crystals?” Grayson asks uncertainly.

“Not...exactly.” Taylor looks up at the crystals again. “Could you...manifest for my friends? Take
a shape they could recognize?”

For a moment, nothing happens. Then, two bright lights flicker to life in the air in front of us,
slowly growing and taking shape until we're faced with two transluscent, shimmering, and
vaguely human-shaped apparitions, one that looks female, and one that looks male. They don't
have faces, but the places where their eyes should be turn towards us.

“...It is...um...nice to meet you?” I clear my throat. “I'm Eva. Do...you have names?”

“Her mother is Chyyaus. Her father is Vaelphis.”

“Those names sound...almost Vaanti,” Diego remarks.

“The language of the Vaanti is a blend of various languages,” Taylor murmurs. “There's actually
more than a little English influence if you look for it. After all, English was the native tongue of
Eugene Rosencraft and Flora Sullivan. But yes, I think Vaanu's native language was another
heavy influence.”

I feel a frown tightening my features. I can hear something soft and musical, like voices singing
in whispers. There are words, too, but I can't make them out.

“...Does anyone else hear that?”

“Hear what?” Mike asks.

“The voices. Singing.”

Taylor blinks at me. “You can hear them?”

“Of course I can. I mean, I can't understand what they're saying, but...”

Jake pauses, tipping his head. “...Come to think of it...I do sorta hear something. I mean, it
sounds like...wind...or like blowing across the top of a bottle...”

“Yeah, I'm kinda hearing it too,” Michelle agrees.

“So am I,” Diego adds.

“Is it weird that I don't hear anything?” Grayson asks.

“If so, then we're both weird,” Mike quips.

“So...all the Catalysts hear it,” Estela muses. “And Eva. But Eva and Taylor can hear voices...?”

“Their voices,” Taylor says. “Chyyaus and Vaelphis. But...you can't understand what they're
saying...?”

“I think that much is all on you, Princess.”

“Hmm...interesting.” She turns to the two figures. “Can you help us find your daughter? ...We're
here to bring her home.” The man-shaped figure reaches out to touch her cheek, and the
singing intensifies for a moment. “...I'm sorry. I know...But it's her home. And mine. We've both
fought hard for it. We have families there who love us as much as you and my father do.” The
ghostly hand drops from her face as Vaelphis nods. Taylor's eyes widen. “...Wh-what?”

“What? What are they saying?” Grayson asks anxiously.

“It's okay. They're going to help us. But they say they have some things that belong to me.”

“Oh. Well...where are these things?”

Chyyaus lifts her hand, curling her wrist in a beckoning gesture. She and Vaelphis begin to drift
slowly across the rust-colored plain, stirring the dust as they glide. Taylor moves to follow
them, which feels like permission for the rest of us to do the same. For awhile, we follow them
in silence. Then Chyyaus and Vaelphis drift back to flank Taylor. Each places a transluscent
hand on her shoulder, a tender, familial gesture. They guide her forward, and finally she stops,
pointing.

“...There...” she murmurs, squinting. “There's a...crate...”

“Oh! You're right! It's a little buried, but it's there...”

Taylor breaks into a run, Jake and Diego close behind her. “Woah! Hey, Princess! Careful, okay?
We don't know what's in there.”

“You think whatever it is will bite me?” she asks wryly.

“I don't know. I don't know what's in there.”

“My instincts say not to open it,” Diego declares. “They may be your family, Allie, but they've got
a real 'ancient gods' vibe going on. My concern is that whatever's in there is gonna be a double-
edged sword.”

Taylor is already on her knees beside the crate, brushing red dust off the lid. “If the island
taught me anything, it's that I can't afford to ignore something just because I'm afraid of it.
Every bit of information I can get is essential.” She turns back to Diego, grinning. “Come on,
sidekick. Give me a hand here.”

Diego rolls his eyes, but he grins back and kneels beside her. “Oh, fine. But if whatever's in there
does bite, I'm blaming you.”

“Totally fair.”

They push at the lid, and it rises with a creak. When nothing jumps out to attack them, the rest
of us cluster curiously around them. From my position, I can see something gleaming gold.
Taylor gasps.

“Oh my god! It's my armor!”

“Your what?”

“The armor of Andromeda! I first found it on the Hartfeld rooftop when we went through the
Lernaean Gate. But...I thought it was lost...”

“There's more,” Estela murmurs. Her eyes widen slightly. “Wait...Taylor, isn't that...?”
“...Yeah,” Taylor's expression is grim as she gingerly holds up a piece of a red garment. “...It's the
Endless' space suit. I don't know how it—Ahh!“She cuts herself off with a shriek, dropping the
fabric and recoiling as if she spotted a cockroach crawling on it. She claps both hands to her
mouth, her breath coming out in quick, shallow puffs.

“Princess!” Jake pulls her into his arms. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Oh, god...” Diego whispers. “I think I know.”

He slowly draws out a small object that gleams golden under the fuschia moonlight. It looks
like...a statue. No. Not just a statue.

“It's...one of those Catalyst idols. Like the one I stole from the Gala.”

“One you stole?” Grayson echoes, raising an eyebrow. I roll my eyes, smirking.

“Don't act so surprised, O Sainted Heir of Prescott,” I scoff. “Surely even you recognized my
signature in my slow-motion fields.”

“Look, it isn't just any Catalyst idol!” Diego says irritably. He sighs, showing it to me. It depicts a
woman posed with her arms and legs crossed, chains spiraling her naked body like a DNA
double-helix. “...It's her idol.”

Taylor whimpers, turning her face into Jake's chest. Diego shoves the idol back into the crate.
Michelle kneels beside Jake and places a gentle hand on Taylor's back.

“Easy there, Taylor. Deep breaths. It's okay.”

Grayson frowns. “You...said the idols gave her visions, to guide her to the Threshold.”

“Not just any visions,” Michelle says sadly. “...Every time she touched an idol, she watched the
Catalyst it represented die. Visions of failed timelines.”

“And her own idol? Did she see her own death?”

“...Worse,” Taylor whispers, her voice muffled. She's trembling like a leaf.

“...She saw herself at the Threshold,” Jake says softly, stroking her hair. “...Burying the rest of
us.”

“But we're okay,” Michelle says soothingly. “We're all okay. You saved us all, Taylor.”

“Don't let me touch it,” Taylor begs. “I don't want to see it again...please...”

“It's okay, Princess. You don't have to touch it.”

“...Unfortunately...I think she might,” Estela says grimly.

“What?!”

“...She just said it herself. We can't afford to ignore something important just because we're
afraid of it. Any bit of information we can get is essential. ...The Andromeda armor and the
Endless' suit are in this crate. It feels like there's a reason the Andromeda idol is here, too.”

Diego groans. “Okay, okay. But...maybe later? Maybe we concentrate on finding Tahira before
forcing Allie to see all of our graves?”

“Well, it isn't that I was going to force her!” Estela retorts indignantly. “...Taylor, what do you
think we should do now?”

“Hey, give her a minute!” Jake snaps. “She's had a shock!”

“Jake, I'm okay. I'm okay.” Taylor sits up slowly. “I'm gonna put the armor on. The crate will be
pretty heavy if I don't, and I don't know how long we're gonna need to carry it. I...will deal with
the Andromeda idol later. After we get Tahira back.”

I can't help but notice how carefully Taylor avoids touching the small amber statue as she
draws out the pieces of armor and secures them to her body. Of course, I also can't help but
notice how elegant and intimidating she looks clad in gleaming amber.

“Mmm. Well, you don't look much like Tahira, but you certainly can wear a heroic costume as
well as she does. Does yours come with a mask?”

Taylor grins. “I used to have a mask. A true Vaanti warrior mask. But...I don't know what
happened to it...”

“Um...I do...” Diego says softly. He's reaching into the chest again, and withdraws a gold-colored
full-face mask with elegant scalloped edges. Taylor takes it, her eyes wide.

“...What the hell...?” She scowls, looking at the two figures still hovering silently behind us.
“Where did you get all this stuff?”

I cannot tell which one is singing when the response comes. Taylor's expression doesn't alter
much.

“Um...what did they say?”

“...Keepsakes. From my father. From...when we were together.” She shakes her head hard.
“Never mind. Just...where is Tahira?”
Tahira's parents each raise their hands, pointing across the landscape. I don't know if we've
traveled, or if we're all just incredibly unobservant, because there is suddenly a crystal altar
right there in front of us, sprouting from the dust. And stretched out on top of it, hands folded
placidly over her belly...

“Tahira!” Grayson and I cry out together, rushing to her side.

She's breathing. She looks like she's sleeping. Her expression is peaceful, her dark hair spread
around her head like a silky black halo. She's still in her supersuit, but it's been powered down,
and her mask has been removed, tucked lovingly under her folded hands. Grayson takes her
hand between his palms, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. Something just ahead of us catches
my eye.

“Everyone, look!”

There is a second crystal altar, just a few yards ahead of us, and a second figure stretched out
on top. Grayson goes pale, his breath catching in his throat.

“...Dad?”

Chapter 25: A Hero Comes Home

Summary:
Tahira finally makes it home.
Chapter Text

Dax

I don't like not being able to monitor my companions on their mission. But my tech can't
exactly reach into other realities, and that makes me feel blind and deaf. Luckily, someone else
on our side is less impaired.

“So...they're safe?” I ask uncertainly.

Varyyn nods. “Her voice is faint, but I can still hear Taylor. I think Diego must be helping her.
She says that everyone has made it safely.”

“...As long as they make it back safely, too,” Sean murmurs. Varyyn reaches over to put a hand
on Sean's shoulder.

“I know it is difficult for you, being separated from the one you love.”
“Are you suggesting that it isn't difficult for you?” Sean asks wryly.

“Not in the least. ...But...I have had more time to prepare for a situation like this.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Varyyn gestures ruefully at his arms and legs. “Looking like this, I am usually safe enough from
prying eyes just being out and about with Diego. Most people assume I am in costume and they
don't pay much attention. But that excuse does not hold up when I am subjected to greater
scrutiny. ...I must admit that I've spent a long time worrying about what might happen if Diego
were to become ill or injured badly enough to need a hospital. ...Trying to accept the idea that I
would not be able to sit beside him...”

“...That's...a horrifying thought...” I mumble around a sudden heaviness in my chest. I reach for
Poppy's hand. She takes mine and squeezes it.

“Couldn't you use make-up or something?”

“I have considered that. It is probably my best hope. But not especially practical. It would take
time to apply, it risks rubbing off...I would do it to be able to be beside my beloved if he needed
me. But it would still mean seeing that someone else could be there immediately if he needed
help. It is quite a relief to me to have Taylor back, and to be living under the same roof as she.”

“Yeah,” Raj agrees. “You know if Diego were ever in trouble, she'd keep an eye on him until you
could get there.”

“The two of them are close,” Rochelle observes. Varyyn nods.

“Like brother and sister.”

“Closer, really,” Sean says. “They were all each other had for years.”

“They're like soulmates in a non-romantic way,” Zahra adds. “Platonic soulmates.”

“Is that a thing?” Craig asks.

“Anam cara,” Quinn murmurs.

“What's that.”

“It's Irish. I went through a big phase when I was a teenager studying Irish myth, history, and
culture. Anyway, the phrase means 'soul friend'. It was an old Irish belief that the soul hovered
around the body like a halo, and sometimes when two people met, their souls would flow
together and merge. If I remember correctly, the phrase could be used either romatically or
platonically...”
“Soul friend...” Varyyn repeats thoughtfully. “I like that term.”

“Very fitting,” Aleister agrees.

Silence settles over us. I look back at my monitors. Not that there's any reason at all for me to
look at them. But I hate feeling so helpless.

“Varyyn? Are they still okay?”

Varyyn is quiet for a moment. “Her presence is faint, most likely because she is concentrating
on Tahira. But she is still there. And if there were any trouble, she would surely let me know.”

Michelle

Eva eases herself onto the crystal altar, cradling Tahira's head on her lap while Grayson moves
anxiously between her and his father.

“Are they all right?” he asks. “Are they hurt?”

“I...don't think so...” I frown, looking them over and finding no obvious signs of injury. “But if
they were just sleeping, they would have woken up by now.”

“They are sleeping,” Taylor murmurs. “They're dreaming between realities. I think...they're
being preserved...”

“Preserved for what?” Eva asks warily. Taylor shakes her head.

“Not for any particular purpose. I think Tahira's parents are...protecting them. Holding them in
stasis like Rourke was. Like the guests at The Celestial.”

“That...would make sense,” I concede slowly. “This planet is basically dead. No sources of food,
no water...this might be the only way either Tahira or Prescott could have survived this long.”

“So...how do we wake them up?”

“Leave that to me,” Taylor replies. She sits down on the edge of the altar where Tahira sleeps
and stretches out a hand to touch her cousin's forehead.

“You gonna try mind-talking?” Jake asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm still anlashokk. There's no reason I shouldn't be able to reach her.”

Tahira

The fuschia-tinted world around me comes with a sense of deja-vu. I was disoriented at first,
but now I'm almost certain I know where I am. It's the crystals rising out of the landscape that
make it click, reminding me of how Mom described the matter that had come through the Prism
Gate before me. Prism-based matter.

“I...don't think we're on Earth,” I murmur.

“Agreed,” Marci chirps in my ear. “My global-positioning system doesn't recognize this place.
Actually, it can't detect any satellites in range at all. And I have a fairly wide range. Tahira, I think
something may be wrong with my vital scan function.”

“Your what?”

“I have a function that monitors your vital signs. Heartrate, sinus rhythm, brain waves, that sort of
thing. But something appears to be amiss, because I just woke you up, but according to my
brainwave scan, you're still asleep.”

I sigh. “Right now, Marci, I think that's the least of our concerns.”

“What concerns would you place at highest priority?”

“Well, for starters, figuring out where we are. ...I think I have a guess there.”

“Do enlighten me, please.”

“I think...this is the dimension where I was born.”

“Oh, wonderful! ...What does that mean?”

“I don't know exactly. ...You heard what Silas Prescott said, right? Right before we...were
consumed?”

“Don't you see, Tahira?” Silas Prescott's own voice sounds in my ear, tinny and distorted,
muffled by the rush of air around him. “You're the key to all of this. The Prism Gate's energy
wasn't strong enough to send me through to the other side, but with my Liquid Prism and your
innate power, we can rip a hole in the very fabric of reality!”

I feel my face slacken with surprise. “Marci, were...were you recording him?”

“I felt it might be useful to be able to reference his words later.”

“But as far as we both knew, we were about to die!”

“Dax didn't program me to capitulate. As long as I am functional, I am programmed to assume I

will be indefinitely functional. Therefore, even when death appears imminent, I assume that I will
survive.”

I can't help grinning. “You clever, clever girl.”

“Thank you, Tahira,” Marci replies with what I swear is pride in her voice. “But Dax should at
least have some credit for designing me this way.”

I feel my smile slipping. “I'll make sure he knows. ...If I ever see him again...”

Just for a moment, I let myself feel afraid, acknowledge the rising tide of panic in my gut. I let it
bubble up my chest, into my throat, and then I breathe it out. I'm scared. I acknowledge that I'm
scared. But I am not going to let it master me.

“Okay...so...we at least have some idea where we are. I think the next steps are first figuring out
what happened to Prescott, and then...figuring out a way out of here.”

“I can help with both of those.”

The voice is new, an unfamiliar mezzo that sounds behind me. I whip around, hoping to cover
the spasm of surprise that shoots through my musculature. A young woman is standing behind
me, a lithe, pretty blonde with clear blue eyes, dressed in armor that gleams amber under the
purple-pink moonlight. She spreads both her hands, showing her empty palms as she
approaches me carefully.

“It's okay, Tahira. I'm here to help.”

I scowl, striking a defensive pose. “Who are you and how do you know my name?”

She stops moving toward me, keeping her hands up and her eyes on my face. “My name is
Taylor. I'm your cousin.”

“My...what?”

“Your cousin. I'm the daughter of your father's brother. Your biological father.”

I let my stance relax just slightly. “...You look human.”

Her lips quirk upwards with amusement as she looks me up and down. “So do you. And unlike
you, I'm actually half-human.”

“...What's...the other half? What...what am I?”

She frowns a little, her hands dropping slowly to her sides. “That's...a little difficult to explain. I
don't actually know the name of their—our—race. I don't think there are many left, except in
spirit. ...I don't know exactly what kind of physical form they took, either. ...Honestly, I know
very little about where our parents came from.” She shifts awkwardly. “Listen...I think detailed
explanations might be better over a hot cup of something at home, not here.”

“...Home?”

“On Earth.” She hazards another step in my direction. “Where we belong. ...Tahira, you and I
have fought very hard for that world. We have families there. Besides...we can't survive on this
dead world for long. The only reason you've survived here as long as you have is because your
parents put you in stasis.”

“My...my parents?” I feel my heart lurch as another implication of her words sinks in. “How long
have I been here?”

“About ten weeks have passed on Earth.”

“Ten! But...I only just woke up here twenty minutes ago! ...Didn't I?”

“By my calculations, you came around eighteen minutes and thirty-four seconds ago,” Marci
clarifies.

“You're not actually awake, though. You're...sort of dreaming.”

“But what about Marci? Marci's an AI. AI's don't dream.”

“Well...probably not. But, she may be connected to your mind somehow, based on the fact that I
can hear her, too.”

“That might explain your unusual brainwaves,” Marci concedes.

I let my fighting stance drop entirely. ...I trust this woman. Strange as it may seem, I believe her.
I believe every word. Still, something in me is hesitating. She sighs.

“Look...I know it sucks.”

“What sucks?”

“To be told you have to go back to Earth just when you recognize where you are. Just when
you've landed on the world where you were born. ...I can introduce you to your parents, but
you won't really have time to get to know them.”

Ahh. So that's where the hesitation came from. I had never really worried about my birth
parents before. Not until Mom told me the truth about where I'd come from...
“Oh, god...” I feel sickness roiling through my midsection. Mom...I never forgave her...I didn't tell
her before I left that I love her... And I've been gone for ten weeks... “I...I have to go home.
Mom...”

“She's waiting for you. She knows you're alive. She's waiting for me to bring you home.”

I nod, feeling tears in my eyes. “Take me home then. Take me to my mom.”

She holds out a hand. “Take my hand and close your eyes. Then open them again, and wake up.”

“...It's just that simple?”

“You've got me guiding you. Just keep your hand in mine, and don't let it slip away. Keep hold of
it as you open your eyes.”

I nod slowly, taking the offered hand. The moment I close my eyes, I start to feel her hand
becoming less solid. I tighten my grip, willing myself to keep ahold of her, to fade as she fades
so that neither of us will fade entirely. My head starts to swim, and I'm suddenly glad I have my
eyes closed. I feel myself floating. Falling. Tilting backwards. It's a dizzy, weightless sort of
feeling, nut still oddly terrifying, like falling in a dream. Except instead of an impact that goes
through me like a lightning bolt, I simply find myself suddenly supine, feeling a little bit chilly. I
flex my feet experimentally, but I don't let go of the hand in mine. And that's when I feel the
pressure on my other hand.

“...Tahira?”

This voice is familiar. I gasp, my eyes flying open before I can stop them. Grayson Prescott is
leaning over me, holding my free hand. And he's not the only familiar face.

“...Grayson...? ...Eva?” They smile down at me.

“Welcome back, hero,” Eva quips.

“Are you all right?” Grayson asks anxiously.

“I think so...” I sit up carefully glancing at the familiar and unfamiliar faces around me. “A little
groggy. ...Wh-what are you doing here, Grayson? How did you...?”

“I know. I'm not supposed to know that you're Dragonness. ...Your mom told me though, when
she learned that there was a way to bring you back.”

“Mom knows, too...?”

“She apparently figured it out a long time ago.”

My heart stirs with affection made strangely heavy with sorrow. “...Of course she did. How
could she not have.”

“She would have come with us,” Eva says, “and Kenji and Poppy and Dax. But there were
limited doses of the stuff that got us through the Gate, and the Catalysts claimed six doses for
themselves.”

“...What's a Catalyst?” I ask lamely. It may be a logical question, but asking it makes me feel like
I'm missing something obvious.

“I'm a Catalyst,” Taylor replies. “So are Jake, Diego, Michelle, and Estela.” She points to each
figure as she names them. “There are twelve of us all together. You'll meet the others later.”

There is one figure she didn't name, a young man with an eyepatch. I nod to him. “And...who is
this?”

“I'm Mike.” He smiles, holding out a hand for me to shake. “I'm not a Catalyst, just an associate
of them.”

“And...behind you...” Taylor touches my shoulder gently, capturing my gaze when I turn toward
her. She nods significantly over my shoulder. I turn to look and find two faceless ghostly figures
standing behind me, one male and one female. Their voices come like a song that echoes in my
mind and makes tears spring to my eyes.

“Daughter...”

“...Mom...” I choke on the word. “...Dad...”

“Chyyaus and Vaelphis,” Taylor clarifies softly. “...Your biological parents. My aunt and uncle.”

I swallow hard as my birth mother holds out her hand to me. I can't help but reach back. Almost
to my surprise, her hand is solid to the touch, cool and soft.

“Oh god...” My voice is thick, cracking with unshed tears. “There's so much I want to say to you
both...so many questions.”

“We know. But...perhaps it would be best if we let your cousin answer them.”

“I may not have all the answers she's looking for,” Taylor protests. “I don't understand
everything myself...”

“You know more than you think,” my father replies. “And what you don't know, you will learn on
your own when you are meant to learn it.”

Taylor snorts ruefully. “Hoo boy, does that sound familiar.”

“The Endless had her faults, of course.” My father sounds a little amused. A little indulgent. “But
she was still...one of us.”

“...Tahira...” Grayson's voice is uncharacteristically small and meek as he interrupts our

conversation. “...What are we going to do about my dad?”

For the first time, I glance over and see Silas Prescott stretched out on a crystal altar, just like
the one I've just awakened on. He isn't moving, save for the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I
swallow hard, shuddering as I remember the moment before the portal tore open, the madness
in him, the frightening implications of his words.

“I...don't think it would be right to leave him behind here. But...” I trail off, hesitating a moment
before I look over at my cousin. “Taylor, can you...find him? The way you found me?”

“I could try...”

“We...should be prepared for a battle when he comes around. Given his goal, he isn't likely to
give up and come quietly...”

“What goal?” Grayson asks softly.

Before I can answer, my mother speaks up. “There is no need to wake him here. He is not in the
same state that Tahira was. ...I fear his condition is beyond our help. He has poisoned himself with
that wretched liquid.”
“But isn't that exactly the sort of thing we should be able to help with?” Taylor protests.
“You can certainly help,” my mother agrees. “...I am sure you recall the night you rejoined your
father.”

“Of course. That isn't exactly something that's easily forgotten.”

“What poisons Silas Prescott's body is made from your energy, as you were made from your
father's. Take it back, as your father took you back. ...It...will not save him on its own. We have
managed to hold his body in stasis, but much of it has been damaged internally. He will need to be
healed by humans.”

“Tahira, what are they saying?” Grayson asks anxiously. “I...I can't understand what your
parents are saying...”

I find his hand, taking it in both my own. “...It's the Liquid Prism. It's...poisoned him. Taylor can
help draw it out of him...I think...but then we have to get him home to get him treated by
doctors.”

“That one's a doctor,” Diego remarks, jerking his head at Michelle. “And she has more
experience with time crystals than any other doctor in Northbridge.”
“I'm still just a resident,” Michelle cautions. “And I won't know the extent of the damage until I
can at least get him to Iris.”

“We should get you all back to the portal before Taylor attempts to draw the toxins out. We can
preserve him in stasis until then.”

I relay my father's suggestion to the others.

“How are we going to move him?” Diego wonders. “Not to mention the chest...”

“What chest?” I ask.

“A little treasure chest Taylor's dad left her,” Eva explains, nodding at the half-buried trunk a
few yards away. “And as to carrying either Prescott or the trunk, I think you're forgetting that
we have Dragonness to help us with that.”

“I'll carry Mr. Prescott,” I say. “Probably better to be careful with him. We don't know how
much damage has been done.” I stand carefully as Grayson drifts towards his father's still form.
Eva takes my arm. I accept the offered support without questioning it, until she leans in to
whisper in my ear.

“Tahira, I know you and Grayson are together, but given everything, are you sure we should
bring his father back with us?” She has the common decency to keep her voice low enough that
Grayson can't hear, but I can't help scowling at her.

“We probably won't get another chance to save him. Are you really willing to leave him to die
alone on an alien planet?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Do you really think so highly of me that you expect the good girl
answer?”

I meet her gaze steadily. “If you are truly willing to leave Silas Prescott behind, go tell Grayson
yourself.”

She purses her lips, rolling her eyes, but not before I see the flicker of alarm across her face. She
doesn't answer. It's my turn to raise an eyebrow, which makes her sigh with irritation.

“Oh, stop smirking, hero,” she mutters, shoving me lightly. “Go grab the supervillain, then.”

I join Grayson at his father's side. He helps me get him into position, and then I easily hoist Silas
Prescott onto my back. Estela goes to grab one handle of the trunk.

“Someone want to give me a hand here?” she calls. Taylor takes a step in Estela's direction, but
Michelle grabs her arm.
“No way, Taylor. No heavy lifting in your condition.” I open my mouth to ask, but then Taylor
puts a hand on her abdomen, and I don't need to. There's a small swell in her belly that I hadn't
noticed before. And strangely enough, her gleaming armor seems to have been molded for it.

“I gotcha,” Mike offers, and moves to take the other end of the trunk.

For awhile, we proceed in silence, following my parents. Eventually I can't help speaking to
them again.

“Mom...Dad...I almost don't want to ask, but...do you think I'll ever see you again?”

“It's nearly impossible to know what the future holds, daughter,” my father answers heavily. “I
like to hope that we will.”

“A part of me wants to stay. To not go back yet.”

“It warms me to hear you say so. But this place is not your home. Not anymore. You girls have
fought hard for the earth. It is where you both belong, not here on this dead world. That is why we
sent you through the Gate. So that you might survive.”
I am quiet as the implications sink in. Survive...a dead world...

“There,” Taylor says, pointing to a shimmering pink orb of energy ahead of us. “There's the rift.”

My mother nods. “You must draw the toxin out of him now, Taylor. It will not harm you or your
child. Take the energy back into yourself.”

“I understand.” She stretches out a hand toward the man on my back, laying her fingertips to
his temple, and closes her eyes. There is silence for a long moment. Taylor breathes
deliberately slow, as if she is trying to keep herself calm, or breathe through something painful.
I can't turn my head far enough to make out her expression, so I'm not sure if she's anxious or
in pain. After a few minutes, she steps back, letting her hand fall.

“Okay. I think that did it.”

“Then you must hurry back through the Gate,” my father says. “...All that is left for us is to tell you
that we love you, daughter. And you, niece. We are so proud of you both. And we hope with
everything that remains in us that we will meet again.”

I nod slowly. “...Goodbye, Mom and Dad. ...Thank you. For giving me to Rochelle. You didn't just
save my life and give me the chance to grow up. You gave me to someone who loves me with
every breath in her body. She was there for me through thick and thin, and I have been so
fortunate to have her for my mother...” I trail off. I meant to reassure them that I've been happy
and cared for, but somehow it feels callous if my last words to my birth parents end up being in
praise of my adoptive mother. “...Even if we can't be together, I know you've both been looking
out for me since the day I was born. You gave me to Rochelle when you couldn't care for me
yourselves. You found me through the Prism Gate when I couldn't escape Prescott alone. And
you've helped my cousin find me and bring me home. I'll never doubt that you love me. Or that I
love you both.”

They both drift forward to embrace me. Their transluscent forms are cool to the touch, but
there is warmth in the gesture that eases the chill.

“There is no more time for hesitation,” my mother says gently. “We must let you both go now.”

“Come on,” Taylor calls, addressing the whole group. “Everyone together. Let's go home.”

I reluctantly pull away from my parents. Then, before I can change my mind, I press in with the
others and rush through the Gate.

The journey home to Northbridge is much like the one that brought me to my birthplace: a
quick, disorienting whirlwind of weightlessness and bright light. I find myself inside the
clocktower. Then, I am swarmed by bodies and voices. Several pairs of hands take Silas
Prescott off my back as Poppy throws her arms around me.

“Tahira! Oh my god! Thank goodness you're safe!”

“Iris! I need a medical scan on him, and one on Taylor.”

“I'm fine, Michelle.”

“I'm not going to believe that until I hear it from Iris.”

“Woah! Taylor, where did you find your armor?!”

“The armor isn't the only thing we found.”

Then, amongst the voices, one makes itself heard above the others.

“Tahira...?” My mother's voice trembles with emotion. “My baby girl...is it really you...?”

“Mom...” I squirm out of Poppy's embrace, push past Kenji and Dax, and throw myself into my
mother's waiting arms. I become aware of the knot of tears that has been slowly tightening in
my chest since I came awake on the crystal altar. In Rochelle Rogers' arms, my head pressed
into my mother's chest, breathing in the familiar scent of the woman who raised me, the knot
dissolves, and I soak her shirt with my tears. Not that she notices.

“Oh, baby...sweetie...my baby girl...”

“Mom...” I whimper. Somehow, that little word doesn't feel like enough right now. I don't even
care who can hear me. “...Mommy...mommy, I'm so sorry...”
“No, sweetie, no...you don't need to be sorry. I just...I never thought I would see you again....and
here you are! Here you are in my arms, my baby...”

“Tahira...” Grayson's voice makes me look up. His face is pale. He looks as helpless and
frightened as a little boy. “...My dad...I...I have to take him to a hospital...”

Reality asserts itself over me once more. Silas Prescott needs a doctor's care. But what's going
to happen when he suddenly shows up at the hospital after ten weeks missing? He's almost
certainly a wanted man after nearly destroying Northbridge. I have no doubt people were killed
in his rampage.

“...I should be the one to take him,” I declare reluctantly. “We disappeared together. It will be
easier if I just offer an explanation as to where we've been.”

“Ahh...about that...” Jake pipes up nervously. “When you explain where you've been and how
you got back, could you leave us and Taylor out of it? We can explain everything later, but for
now, suffice to say that we need to keep her under the radar of a certain dangerous someone...”

“That's all the explanation I need for now.” I step away from my mother to put on my mask and
gather Prescott's unconscious body into my arms again. I make my way toward the balcony and
prepare to take flight.

“Wait!" My mom's voice makes me pause and turn back. She holds my gaze, her eyes wide and
fearful. "When you've done that. When you've taken Silas to the hospital...will you come home?
Will you come home to me?”

It's all I can do not to burst into tears again. I give her a watery smile. “Always, Mom. Always.”

I turn back and look down at the city I was ready to die to protect. I step off the balcony and
into the arms of the sky, letting the air support me as I take off again, a single thought running
through my head on a loop: I'm home.

Chapter 26: Something Like Ordinary

Summary:
In the wake of Tahira's return--and Silas Prescott's--their friends and family try to plan for
what's next.

Notes:
ACT XII : Antebellum
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text

Jake

A silence falls over us as we watch Tahira take off into the moonlit sky with Silas Prescott's
limp body in her arms. Grayson lingers on the balcony until she vanishes from sight, and stays
there a moment or two more. Diego and Varyyn immediately start trying to eat each other's
faces. Michelle went immediately into doctor-mode, but now that Tahira's taken off and Iris has
assured her that neither Taylor nor the baby have suffered any ill effects from our adventures,
she remembers that she has a fiance who was waiting for her, and more face-eating
commences. For my part, I'm a little classier about it, and delicately taste my wife's mouth
while my hand carresses the swell of her belly. Honestly, what I'm feeling now is a little too
much to be expressed with carnal kissing, but I need to be close to her. I need to taste her and
touch her, but gently.

We did it. We got her cousin home, and she's still with me. She and the baby are still with me.
I'm sure sometime in bed tonight I'm gonna start trembling and possibly crying over the worst-
case scenarios that aren't going to come true anymore, but right now I'm too relieved to think
about them.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her. “I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that trip took it outta
ya.”

“It did,” she admits. “I'm exhausted. And hungry. ...Hey, Raj?”

Raj looks up from where he's on his knees, poking through the chest with Craig and Zahra.
“Yeah?”

“Baby Peanut is demanding that hangover cure you made us on the island. Think you can help
me out?”

He grins, getting to his feet. “Baby Peanut's wish is my command. Come on, I'll give you guys a
ride back. We can make a stop at the grocery store on the way.”

“Let me just take off my armor.”

I help her remove the polished amber pieces, and place them carefully back in the trunk. For a
moment, she hesitates beside the trunk, staring down at it's contents. I wind my arms around
her waist from behind, lacing my fingers together over her abdomen.

“Later,” I murmur into the curve of her neck. “Worry about that later. Just be with me now.”

“...Yeah...” She exhales slowly, nodding. “Yeah. Later.”

Tahira

The air is brisk and chilly, especially at this altitude. It shouldn't surprise me, I guess. If I've
been gone ten weeks, the rest of the world must be well into October by now. I confess that the
silence gets to me pretty quickly.

“Marci? Are you still with me?”

“Of course, Tahira. You have not deactivated me.”

I chuckle. “Fair enough. You've been awfully quiet since my cousin found me.”

“You had the situation under control. I didn't think there was anything I could say that would
have been very helpful.”

“I suppose that's fair. But I'm glad to know you're still with me. I enjoy your company, you
know.”

“Why thank you, Tahira. I enjoy your company as well.”

The hospital is coming into view beneath me. As I arc toward it, descending out of the sky, I
start to hear people shouting. No doubt news crews will be on the scene in minutes. The
moment my feet touch ground, I'm swarmed. I let the voices and questions wash over me as I
shout for a doctor. Plenty of them swarm me, too. It's only when they've taken Silas Prescott
from me that I turn toward the crowd spewing questions at me, some anxious, some excited,
some stunned. I don't hear their individual questions, but I don't need to. I project my voice
into the crowd.

“It's me, everyone. It's Dragonness. I'm home. Where I have been is not important, nor is it
important how I got back. In the days to come, I swear that I will formally answer all your
questions. For now, all you need to know is that I thought that I was using my last act in life to
protect Northbridge. But it was not my last act. Nothing matters more to me than continuing to
protect Northbridge as I did before. And now I must be on my way.”

Before anyone can react, I take flight again, shooting straight up into the sky, climbing to an
altitude where I hopefully blend into the night.

“How do you think that went, Marci?”

“Since you left Silas Prescott in capable medical hands and successfully addressed the crowds, I
would say that your mission was a success.”
“Excellent. I'm going to give you a chance to rest for awhile, okay? I'm going to change clothes
back at my apartment, then I'm going to my mom's. I'll bring my suit with me, of course. In case
Dragonness is needed.”

“That sounds like a sensible plan, Tahira. You know where to find me if you need me.”

***

I left the windows unlocked at my apartment the day I fought Silas Prescott. Luckily, no one
thought to lock them again in ten weeks, and I can easily slip in without breaking anything. I am
surprised to find that all my stuff is pretty much untouched. I would have thought the landlord
would be pretty eager to lease the space again. But maybe my mom or Dax or Poppy or Grayson
covered for me. I don't know, and at the moment, I don't much care. I slip inside, change
clothes, and pack a bag with a few days' worth of clothes and my supersuit. A civilian once
more, I make the journey to my mom's apartment the old-fashioned way: on foot.

Mom must have been waiting by the door for me, because the moment I press the buzzer, she
responds, and the door into the building unlocks. She's in the hallway when I get up to her
floor, hovering eagerly by the open door.

“Come in, darling. Come in. I'll make tea.”

I follow her inside. But as soon as the door has closed, I drop my bag and throw my arms
around her. She squeaks in surprise, but she doesn't hesitate to hold me back. For a long
moment, we're silent, just holding each other.

“...Mom...” I whimper. “...Mommy...”

“It's been a long time since you called me that,” she murmurs, tightening her grip just a little.

“I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I ran out on you the last time I was here...I'm so...I'm so, so sorry I
ever went into that battle without telling you that I love you...”

I have no doubt that my mother wants to be strong for me right now, because she always wants
to be strong for me. Of course she does. She's the mom. She always wants to put me first. ...But
damned if she doesn't entirely deserve to break down and let everything out, and a part of me
is glad that my words push her over the edge. Now it's her face pressed into my shoulder while
she sobs with abandon. I gently lead her over to the couch. I snuggle up in her arms, the way I
did one morning when I was thirteen and scared to go to middle school because adolescent
drama had turned the one-story building into a prison in my mind. But now I'm twenty-five,
and it's my mother weeping while she clings to me.

“I thought I'd lost you,” she finally manages to croak. “I thought I would never see you again...”

“I thought you'd lost me, too...” I admit. “But I'm here now, Mommy. I'm here, and I love you and
I'm so sorry if you ever thought otherwise...”
“It doesn't matter now, sweetheart. What matters is that you're right. You're here now. You're
back. Everything's going to be all right.”

“I...met my birth parents...” I confess softly. My mother is silent for a moment.

“You did...”

“Or...what's left of them. Maybe. They sent me through the Prism Gate to save my life when I
was a baby.”

“I know. Taylor explained that much to me.”

I squirm as guilt snakes through my gut. “...I thanked them for sending me to you.”

“...I wish I could have thanked them for sending you to me, too. You're the best thing that ever
happened to me, Tahira. My dream come true. ...I am so proud of what you've become.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Of course. You're a hero, baby.”

“...So they say. I just kinda felt like gaining the powers of flight and super-strength meant I had
to do something good with them.”

“And that makes me even prouder. To know that I've raised the kind of woman who is
motivated to use her gifts for the betterment of the world.”

“That's all your handiwork, Mom,” I agree. “...But...tonight, I don't want to be Dragonness. Just
for tonight, I want to be Tahira Rogers. Your little girl.”

“I can absolutely agree to that.”

Grayson

I want to go straight to the hospital. I want to be there with my father. I want to be beside him
when he wakes up. I want to tell him...ask him...Christ, I don't even know what. So much. How
could he do something so terrible? What the hell was he trying to accomplish? I want answers. I
want to beg him not to die, now that I got him back...

I can't go straight to the hospital. I have to let Tahira take him, wait for the hospital staff to call
me. Tell me he's there. So while everyone else drifts out of the clocktower and heads home, I
linger with Eva, Kenji, Dax, and Poppy. I sit on the couch, staring at my phone, willing it to light
up with a call from Northbridge General Hospital.

“So...what happens now?” Eva breaks the silence with her question.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...Dragonness is back now, and so is Silas Prescott...”

“My father is likely going straight to prison as soon as he is healthy,” I point out bitterly. “I don't
think he's going to pose much threat anymore, especially now that I'm in charge of Prescott
Industries.”

“And Aleister and Estela are running Rourke International while their father rots in a hospital
for the criminally insane. That doesn't stop them from being afraid of him.”

That makes me pause. She's right. Everett Rourke and my father are smart, powerful men. They
were friends once. And they essentially sought to harness the same power in different forms.
My dad may end up in a home for the criminally insane, too. Perhaps even the same one his old
friend was sent to. ...And now Tahira, whose power my dad sought to exploit, has met Taylor,
the living source of that power. The Endless even warned the Catalysts not to get complacent,
not to stop being wary of Rourke.

Tahira Rogers and Taylor Chandler. Silas Prescott and Everett Rourke. Two sources of power,
and two men with power and means who tried to exploit them. The more I think about it, the
more I worry.

“You're right,” I concede. “Whatever happens to my dad now, we can't just assume it's over. Not
now that Tahira and Taylor have met.”

“But as to what happens immediately,” Kenji says, “I think there's still plenty for Talos, Minuet,
and Dragonness to do in terms of rounding up petty criminals. We'll arrange for Dragonness to
meet with my mom to get up to speed. We should also probably consider what to do about
Caleb and whatever gang he's running with now.”

“We'll consult with Tahira on that.” Eva sighs.

“But for now, let her rest for a few days,” I say firmly. “She deserves that. In the
meantime...maybe I'll see about making sure dad doesn't get sent to the same place as Everett
Rourke. I don't trust the two of them in the same building.”

“I wish Taylor didn't have to go back to California,” Dax remarks. “It might be helpful to have
her and all her crew in one place nearby.”

“We've got most of the Catalysts right here in Northbridge,” Poppy points out.
“Yes, but Taylor is their leader. Not to mention that she's Tahira's biological cousin.”

Anything else anyone might have said is cut off when my phone starts to trill my ringtone. I feel
my heart flip in my chest. “...It's them...it's the hospital...” Gulping, I thumb on the call and put
the phone to my ear. “Grayson Prescott.”

“Mr. Prescott, this is Dr. Edward Nakashima at Northbridge General Hospital. Your father is here
in our ICU.”

“My...father...?” I hope I sound convincingly hesitant. “...When...when did he...?”

“Not long ago. He's stable, but his condition is pretty serious. We'd like you to come in so we can
discuss everything with you.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be right there.” I thumb off the call, rubbing a hand over my face. “...I
guess it's showtime...”

I feel a hand on my shoulder. When I turn to look, I am a little startled to find that it's Eva,
looking sympathetically down at me.

“You could probably use some company on the way. I'll come with you.”

“I...you don't have to do that...”

“It's no trouble. My dad's there, too. I'm a little overdue to visit him, what with this whole
rescuing Tahira from an alien dimension thing.”

I nod slowly, feeling a faint smile on my lips. “In that case, I'd definitely welcome the company.”

Tahira

After tea and cookies with my mother, I treat myself to a hot shower and nestle into a pair of
soft pajamas before drifting towards my bed. My childhood bedroom is pretty much the way I
left it when I moved into my own apartment after college. It's lost a few items over the years as
I've brought things with me, and most of my old books and toys have been donated to charity.
But a few particularly sentimental items are still around.

I sit down on the edge of the bed and pick up the cuddly toy lamb resting against the pillow. My
favorite toy, a left over from my baby days. Her well-worn fluff is baby blue on her head and
body, white on her face and ears. When I was two years old, I dug into the depths of my
imagination and came up with a name for her, christening her Blue Lamby—or “Boo Wammy”,
in baby speak. Eventually, Mom and I accepted that her official name was Boowammy. I pick up
the lamb and her head flops back on her neck. Her stuffing has all been irreversably pushed
into her head and her body from years of being carried around the neck. I support the back of
her head with my hand, lifting her face so that I can look into her button eyes.

Did you miss me, old friend? I ask her. There's no need to speak aloud. Everyone knows stuffed
animals are telepathic. But a flex of my wrist makes her nod.
Of course, Tahira. I always miss you when you're not here.
I've become a superhero. Did I ever get around to telling you that?
You didn't need to tell me. I always knew. I know everything about you. It's my job.
Thanks for not telling Mom. I guess she found out anyway, but I'm glad she didn't hear it from you.
Keeping secrets is also part of my job.

I chuckle a little. I place my lamb aside as I turn down the covers and crawl underneath. But as I
lay my head on the pillow, I draw her under the blankets with me, my arms cinched around her
permanently flattened neck.

***

I wake up the next morning to the smell of coffee and the familiar sounds of Mom puttering
around in the kitchen. For a moment, it's blissful and nostalgic, until I realize I can hear voices. I
sneak into the bathroom to take a quick shower and put some clothes on before I go
investigate.

I find Taylor in the kitchen, working her way through a mixed fruit salad while my mother sips
coffee and nibbles toast. Dressed in regular clothes, her baby bump is much more obvious than
it was while she was wearing the armor. It's still fairly small, though. She smiles when she sees
me.

“Hi.”

“Good morning,” I reply. “I admit I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon.”

“I know it's early, but I have to go back to California this evening, and it's going to take awhile
to tell you everything you need to know, so I wanted to start right away.”

“I see.”

Mom stands up and pulls out a chair for me. “Sit down, sweetheart. Let me make you some
oatmeal?”

“Yeah, okay.” I sit down, feeling my belly fluttering with anxiety. It's not that I don't think I can
trust Taylor. I actually trust her completely, in spite of barely knowing her. It's just that I'm not
sure I want to know everything that she's going to tell me. But I suppose I never really had a
choice. I was always going to learn it all someday. Might as well be today.
Taylor tells me everything. Absolutely everything. She tells me her story, and what she knows
of mine. What she knows of our fathers' race, the power of their will. The Prism Crystal is her
life energy, left behind to call her home and repair the timelines. The power that I gained from
it is my birthright. She tells me about her Catalysts. About Everett Rourke. The Endless. Vaanu.
While she talks, I eat a bowl of oatmeal and some cinnamon raisin toast. By the time she
finishes, nearly four hours have passed and I'm starting to feel hungry again. But primal needs
are somewhat overwhelmed as I try to process everything I've been told. Mom drifted out
awhile ago to give us some privacy. I guess she's been told everything once already.

“So...what happens now?” I finally ask.

“Now, I go back to my life and you go back to yours. You've got a city to protect, and I've got a
baby on the way.”

“I know, but...” I glance briefly at my mother. “I mean...you're my cousin. I don't know about
you, but that sort of means something to me.”

“It means something to me, too. I'm not suggesting we should lose touch. Though...in time, I
think for the benefit of my human aunt and uncle, if they ever find out about you, we should say
that we found each other through one of those DNA testing services. I'll tell them I wanted to
know if my dad had any relatives I wasn't aware of.”

“Fair enough.” I look at her for a long moment. She doesn't look much like me. Physically, she's
pretty much my exact opposite, small and fair to my tall and dark. But we're kin. “...We're quite
a pair, aren't we.”

She smiles the brave, weary smile of someone who has been on a difficult mission for a worthy
cause. “Yeah. When I first came back, I was terrified that I wasn't meant to be here. A dozen
things have come up that have slowly convinced me that I am, though. And meeting you has
definitely been a big one.”

“Yeah?”

“It's like I told your parents: we've both fought hard for this world. Fought and sacrificed and
survived for the world, and the people who matter to us here. It's our home.”

I look down into my empty oatmeal bowl, drying on the table in front of me. I really should be
soaking it in the sink.

“...I gotta admit...when my mom first told me that I had come from another dimension, I didn't
react well.”

“No?”

“...I didn't speak to her for three days. ...I had barely started speaking to her again when...” I trail
off, swallowing against the knot in my throat.
“...When you fought Silas Prescott.”

“...Yeah...”

“...I had just gotten married when I learned that I was the missing piece of the Island's Heart. ...I
didn't react well, either. I mean, I managed to put on a brave face, but I was so fucking pissed at
the whole situation.” She sighs. “But...as my father told me...you cannot control your
circumstances. Only how you react to them.”

“...Not exactly comforting in your situation.”

“Not at all,” she concedes.

“...Dax actually told me something comforting when I was freaking out about the fact that I was
from another dimension. He...lies awake at night worrying about multiverses or something. I
think...it's the fact that time and space are infinite scares him, and the idea of infinite
dimensions makes him feel...helpless. But anyway, what he told me is that this is my life. Here.
That it doesn't matter if I was born in another dimension. This is where I live. Where I made my
life and my home and my family. So this is where I belong.”

“Definitely a much more comforting thing to hear during an existential crisis,” she quips. Then
she sighs. “Full confession: I highly doubt anything is over yet. For either of us. Everett Rourke
knows I'm alive. And he's no idiot. I'm betting it won't take him long to realize I had something
to do with bringing you back.”

“The good news there is that now that the two sides of the family have met, we're going to be
much stronger. We should exchange contact information. When it all hits the fan, we need to be
ready.”

Michelle

By the time my shift starts the next morning, Silas Prescott has been stabilized, but he has not
regained consciousness by the time I finally get around to having my lunch at three in the
afternoon. I make quick work of a bland chicken salad sandwich and a side of even blander
french fries, and settle back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment.

We did it. We brough Tahira home. Whatever comes next, that small success is ours to cherish.
At least for the moment, we can go back to our lives. I have a wedding to plan now. I open my
eyes and dig out my phone to place a call. After two rings, I hear the voice on the other end.

“Hey, Michelle.”
“Hi, Taylor. I'm glad I caught you. I wasn't sure if you were already going to be on the plane
home.”

“No, not yet, but we should be heading to the airport soon. What's up? How's Prescott?”

“You'll have to ask Grayson. I can't say without breaking confidentiality.”

“Ahh. Right. So...what's up?”

“There's something I wanted to ask you while you were on the east coast, but with everything
else, I didn't get around to it.” I take a deep breath, feeling strangely apprehensive. “...Will you
be my maid of honor?”

“Me? You're asking me to be your maid of honor?”

“Yeah. I am. I know you're going to be almost full term by the time of the wedding, and we can
make whatever accommodations you need. We could have a chair for you standing by, Quinn
could be my back-up maid of honor if you need to drop out at any point...anything. If you don't
think you'll be up to it, that's okay, too. It's all up to you and you don't have to decide right
away. I...” I trail off a moment, swallowing. “...It was just really important to me to ask you
before anyone else.”

“Really...? I mean...in the five years I was gone, the others were still here. I wouldn't even have been
surprised if you'd made new friends in that time you might want to ask more than any of us...”

“Trust me, Taylor. No one in the world will every understand me the way the Catalysts do. I've
got good friends here at the hospital. Even close friends. But you guys are family in a way that
no one else could ever be. And as to whether I'd want to ask one of the other girls...I've
definitely gotten a lot closer to all of them in the last five years. ...But I wouldn't have Sean if it
weren't for you, and I think they'll all understand how important it is that you have the first
chance to stand up beside me while I become his wife. They'll all be bridesmaids anyway, so it
isn't as if I'm leaving anyone out. Like I said, you don't have to answer right away. I know with
the baby--”

“Michelle, of course I'll be your maid of honor! It would be my honor! I mean, obviously if River
makes trouble, I'll deal with that, but as long as that doesn't put you off...”

“Honestly, there was a time in my life when the thought of a wedding with a pregnant
bridesmaid, much less a pregnant maid of honor, would have made me cringe. Back when my
closest friends were the superficial bitches who ended up betraying me. Back when everything
to me was about status and power and showing off...”

“...I'm proud of who you are now, Michelle.”

I snort, but there's a grin splitting my face. “Those hormones are making you sappy.”
“Maybe, but it's true.”

“Hey, I have to get back to work, and I should let you get back to California. I'll be going dress-
shopping with the girls soon. We'll make sure to send pictures so you can give your two cents.”

“Talk to you soon then. Love you.”

“Love you too, you pregnant sap. Thank you.”

Jake

Taylor spends the flight home up in the cockpit with me and Mike while Diego and Varyyn
presumably screw like rabbits in Castor's bedroom. That's fine with me. There's something I've
been meaning to bring up.

“You know, Princess, since you're carrying my baby and all, I think it might be about time for
you to meet my parents.”

“That is...not an unreasonable request,” she concedes. “...How much do they actually know
about me?”

“Less than Rebecca knows. But I told them about you five years ago. Back when I thought I'd
lost you. And I told them you'd come back. ...I got a call once the story of your reappearance
broke asking if you were the same Taylor Chandler. ...And they know you're pregnant.”

“Wow. That's a little more than I was expecting them to know. Not that I'm complaining.”

“Probably a little less intimidating to think that your in-laws already know you exist than to
think that you might be dropping in on them without them knowing anything and being
pregnant to boot when you do,” Mike remarks.

“Frankly, yes,” she agrees. She's smirking a little when I look back at her, but there is anxiety
nipping at the edges of her features. “...Do they approve of me?”

“They don't even know you yet, Princess.”

“I know, but...” She sighs. “I just can't help thinking how my aunt and uncle and Diego's parents
reacted to you...”

It's my turn to smirk a little. “Heh...yeah, well. I'm a shady ex-military type with shaggy hair. Not
the type parents generally take kindly to right off the bat.”
She reaches over and vigorously rubs my head. “I like your shaggy hair.”

I catch her hand and bring it to my lips to press a kiss to her fingertips. “I'll be honest, my
parents are a little wary. But they're wary because they think I symbolically married you after
knowing you for only six months, and now I'm shacking up with you after you've been gone for
five years.”

“...Whereas in reality, you married me in a tribal ceremony after having consciously known me
for a few weeks, plus two-thousand one-hundred thirty-nine time loops. Plus the whole
shacking up after I've been gone for five years thing.”

“Yeah. The point is, they're wary because they think I'm rushing into things, they're concerned
that this might be a fading infatuation and that this whole unplanned pregnancy thing is gonna
trap me in something I don't really want. But with all that, they ain't judging you. They ain't
sittin' there thinking you got some ulterior motive without even knowing you. They ain't the
type. They'll question my judgment in getting hitched so fast and sticking it out even after five
years of you missing. They might question yours in saying yes to me when I asked you. You'll
probably get a pass on staying with me five years later considering what you went through in
the meantime. They ain't gonna go into this preparing to dislike you. Once they know you,
they're gonna love you. And you're gonna love them. Promise.”

She's quiet for a moment. “So, when do I meet the family?”

“They've invited us to Louisiana for Thanksgiving. Think your family in California will be
willing to spare you?”

“For Thanksgiving? I can promise you my folks won't even realize I'm gone.”

Grayson

My father's brain is swollen. Or it was. At least, I think that's what the doctor meant. They kept
me waiting for awhile when I first arrived, and when the doctor showed up, I couldn't exactly
follow what he was telling me. What I did gather was that Dad responded well to treatment,
and that his vital functions are intact. But he hasn't regained consciousness. I've barely left his
side. I've gone to the bathroom when I can't hold it anymore. Eva brought me something to eat
from the cafeteria this morning, which was thoughtful of her. Michelle Nguyen did the same
later. I think I thanked them both, but probably not as warmly as I should have. I hope they
understand.

I don't know why I'm sitting here. I guess Dad would probably do the same for me. ...But maybe
not. Maybe he would react the same way he reacted after Mom died, pulling away, burying
himself in his work. ...Maybe he stopped caring a long time ago. Somehow, I can't bring myself
to believe that. But...neither can I entirely convince myself that he hasn't.

I wish Tahira were here with me. She's always been there when I needed someone to lean on.
Since we were in college together, since I was the senior overloaded with classes and she was
the smart, confident freshman who always knew whether she needed to drag me to the library
for a study session or make me put the books away and go out for the evening. We only had a
year to get to know each other then, but we kept in touch on and off for the next three years
while I worked for Dad, and she finished her business degree. Then, she applied to Prescott
Industries, became my assistant, was exposed to the Prism Crystal, became a superhero and a
pawn in my father's game...

… I want her here with me now. But I can't ask her. Of course not. My father has hurt her more
than anyone. He used her. I guess I can't help loving him, because he's my dad. But I can't ask
her to put aside her own pain to support me now.

A rustling in the hospital bed sends an electric jolt down my spine. My dad's head rolls lazily
back and forth on the pillow. I leap to my feet, cautiously taking his hand.

“...Dad...? Dad, can you hear me...?” His eyelids flutter.

“...Gr-Grayson...?” His voice is a weak croak, and he struggles to focus on my face.

“It's me, Dad.”

His gaze drifts around the hospital room. “Wh-where...?”

“In the hospital, Dad. In Northbridge.”

“T-Tahira...?”

“She's safe.” An edge has entered my voice. “She's safe at home. Which is more than I can say for
some people in this city, thanks to you. Do you remember what you did?”

“I...I found it...I found my way to...” His eyes suddenly fly open. On the monitor beside his bed,
his heart rate spikes sharply. “Helena!”

I feel my body go cold as my blood drains into my feet. “Wh-what?”

“Where is she? Where is my Helena?”

“What?! Dad, Mom's dead! She has been for almost twenty-five years!”

“No!” he growls. “No! It can't be! I was there! I was so close!”

He tries to sit up, and the monitors start shrieking as his blood pressure and heart rate climb. I
put my hands on his shoulders, trying to ease him back onto the bed, but his hands shoot out to
grab my shoulders instead, tightening until the pressure is painful. I squirm, but I don't try to
get away. He's still fighting the weight of my hands, pushing him back onto the bed.

“Dad, stop! You need to rest!”

“I need my wife! Where is Tahira?! Where is that brat?! She has to know! She has to know what
she's done!”

There are doctors and nurses rushing in now, untangling me and my father, pushing a needle
into his IV line and squeezing the plunger. I shrink, my eyes on my father's face as his struggles
slowly cease and he settles back onto the bed. His heart rate slows to normal. The nurse turns
to me. He's asking me something. Or telling me something. I can't focus. I can't comprehend
him.

“I...have to be up early tomorrow,” I mutter. “Please call me if anything changes.”

I rush into the hallway. Push past the police officers that are standing guard outside his room. I
don't stop rushing until I'm outside in the parking lot. And even then, I keep pacing. I want to
throw up. I want to scream. I want to cry. I want to do all three at once, and then I want to
throw things. I can feel that I've begun crying as I pull out my phone and place a call.

“...Hey, Grayson.” Tahira's voice comes down the line, gentle and calming. I draw in a shuddering
breath.

“My dad woke up...”

“How is he?”

“He...started babbling about you. And my mom. I don't think he was fully lucid because he
started getting aggressive, and they had to sedate him...”

A pause. “I'm sorry, Grayson.”

Before I realize that I'm going to do it, I dissolve into tears. “Oh, god...Tahira...I...I don't know
what to do here. ...I know I shouldn't ask, but...I...I think I need you here...I need help. I can't
handle this alone. Please...tell me what I should do...”

She is quiet for a long moment. Finally, she sighs. “Go home. Wait for me on the balcony.”

***

I've been at the hospital long enough that the sun has gone down again. Tahira is already
waiting for me on the balcony when I get home. Or rather, Dragonness is. I've calmed down
enough by then that I can't help grinning a little when I see her.
“My hero,” I quip. “Flying to my rescue.”

“That's me. ...But do you mind if I come in so I can take my mask off at least?”

“Of course. Right.” I step aside to let her through, and draw the curtains over the windows.
Safely inside, Dragonness takes her mask off, and there is Tahira Rogers in front of me, dressed
in a dark-colored supersuit. The last time we were together in this room was the day before my
father attacked Northbridge...

...I'm crying again, and I'm not sure when it started. Tahira draws me into her arms, guiding me
to the couch. I go where she leads me, clinging to her while I sob.

“I'm so sorry, Tahira...I'm so sorry for what he did to you...what he did to everyone...”

“I know, Grayson. It's not your fault.”

“I...I know...but...” I tighten my grip, burying my face in her neck like a frightened child. “...For
ten weeks, everyone has told me I'm not to blame for what my father did. The families of the
people who died have told me they don't hold me responsible for my father's actions. I cried for
them, I cried for you, I cried for my father...I felt helpless, but...I never felt...broken...”

“But now you do?”

I pull back to look at her, blinking back a film of tears. She raises a hand to cup my cheek, her
dark eyes gentle and sympathetic. I swallow hard.

“...It's...different now that he's back. Now that both of you are back. I just...I'm so angry with
him, and I don't understand how it all happened...how I never saw it coming...God,
Tahira, why? Why would he do a thing like that?!”

Something like fear flickers across her face. Fear and sadness and...resignation. She sighs.

“...For your mother, Grayson. For you.”

I feel my head get foggy, resisting understanding. Numbness creeps in as my blood rushes
against my eardrums in a frantic attempt to drown out her words. I think I manage to croak out
the appropriate question. She takes my hands as she answers, holding my eyes with hers.

“...This world couldn't save your mother. Couldn't bring her back to him. He thought another
world might be able to.”

I feel something cold creep in to banish the numbness. “...Is that what he told you he was
doing?”
She nods. “The last thing he said to me before we were consumed was, 'Maybe someday soon,
my son will have a mother again'.”

I recoil. Not from her exactly, or from the truth of what she's telling me. But the words
themselves hit me like the lash of a whip. I turn sharply away, burying my face in my hands.

“God...god! How...how could he possibly...” I raise my head to look at her again, knowing my
desperation is in my face and my voice. “I miss her, too! I've missed her every day since she
died, and I wish she hadn't...and...I admit, I've wished for a way to bring her back, but...I mean,
when I learned there was a way to bring you back, I went for it. But I never...”

“You never used my cousin. The way your dad used me. You never let anyone get hurt. At least,
not anyone who hadn't already agreed to the risks.” I nod weakly. She puts a hand on my cheek
again. “You're a good man, Grayson Prescott.”

I've always liked to think I am. But if Tahira Rogers tells me it's true, I feel like I can believe it.
“...What happens now?”

She smiles ruefully. “That's the big question, isn't it. ...Taylor doesn't think anything is over yet.
But maybe for awhile, we can get back to something like ordinary. Or whatever resembles
ordinary in our situation.” She pauses. “...I...may need a new job. I told your dad I quit just a few
days before the big battle.”

I can't help smiling a little. “Last I checked, you worked for me, not my father. Which is
especially true now that I'm in charge of his company. Unless...you'd rather find something
else.”

“Heck no,” she snorts. “Not if you still want me there.”

“Of course I still want you!” Realizing what I've just said, I feel heat creep up my neck. “I
mean...to work for me. If you want to work for me. I...”

She mercifully shuts me up when she presses her mouth to mine, winding her arms around my
neck. I raise my hands to her face, threading my fingers through the silky black waves of her
hair. Too soon, she breaks the kiss, pressing her forehead to mine.

“You're too funny,” she chuckles breathily. “We've already slept together, but you're still
embarrassed to say that you want me?”

“I don't like to be crude,” I retort. “Besides, you slept with me the night before you went off to
battle. I could have been a last fling for all I know.”

She sits back slightly, her hands still clasped behind my neck, and looks me in the eye. “I spent
the night with you because I knew if I died without ever having asked to spend the night in
your arms, I would die with regret. Grayson Prescott, I've been in love with you since college.”
And just like that, I know everything will be all right. I pull her close and kiss her hungrily. She
straddles my lap, pressing her hips to mine.

“...I want you, Tahira Rogers,” I whisper against her mouth. “I'm in love with you. I have been
for years.”

“You have me,” she whispers back. “I want you, too.”

I capture her mouth with mine again, tasting her tongue and the backs of her teeth. I want to
see her. Touch her. Really touch Tahira Rogers, not Dragonness. I tug at her supersuit,
searching for a clasp or a zipper or... Good lord, what kind of trap did Dax sew her into with this
thing. I hear her chuckle.

“Looking for something?”

“How do you get in and out of this thing?”

She sits back on her heels, grinning. One hand slips behind her back and touches something. I
can't see what she's doing, but her hand is barely back there for a second before the front of her
costume starts to sag. She reaches up to slide the dark bodysuit off her shoulders. I feel myself
trembling with anticipation as her body emerges from the costume; her clavicles, her pert
breasts, her muscular arms, and her flat, firm stomach... She eases off me and stands up to peel
the bodysuit the rest of the way off. Oh, god help me, she's naked underneath. Completely bare.
Tahira Rogers is naked in my living room for the second time ever. She smiles at me.

“Do you like what you see?”

My mouth is too dry to form words. I swallow, nodding dumbly. She returns to straddle my lap
again. Her hands on my chest, she leans down to kiss me again. I let my hands span her waist,
trailing my fingers over her bare skin. Tomorrow, I'll have to go back to the hospital. I'll have to
face the consequences of my father's return.

But tomorrow is a long time from now.

Notes:
Quick announcement everyone: I have officially decided that there is going to be a Book 5 in
this series. There's just too much story left to fit everything into one fic. There's still a good
chunk left of Book 4, though. :)
 Chapter 27: The Spectre of the Hydra
Summary:
With Halloween just around the corner, everyone tries to settle back into routine. But the
danger is far from over.

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text

Jake

Every so often, when I'm pulling up to the beach house after a day at work, I'm struck all over
again by the grandeur of the place where I'm currently living. There was a time I might have
actively rebelled against living in opulent splendor. Having grown up in more modest
surroundings myself, the time was such luxury would have felt suffocating. And if Taylor
weren't living in this place with me, I think it still would. But her presence could make a damp,
moldy cave into a home for me, and it can certainly do as much for a waterfront mansion in
California. Besides, there's no denying that it's gonna be an amazing place to raise our kid.

I park the car and make my way around to the front door. I hang up my keys in the foyer and
wander into the kitchen to grab a cold glass of water. With temperatures squeaking past eighty
degrees Fahrenheit, it's unusually hot today for October, even in southern California. Through
the dining room window, I can see Varyyn on the deck, doing some kind of Vaanti tai chi or
something. Another advantage to this place is that the property is enclosed enough that Varyyn
can actually enjoy the beach for awhile without drawing attention to himself. I fill a glass with
tapwater, top it off with a couple cubes from the icemaker in the freezer door, and make my
way out into the balmy autumn air. Varyyn pauses when he sees me.

“Good afternoon, Jake. I didn't realize it was so late already.”

“It's almost seven. Either of our spouses home?”

“Yours is. The last I knew, she was resting. Diego called to say he will likely be late tonight.”

I nod in acknowledgment and go up to the bedroom I share with my wife. Taylor isn't in bed
when I get there, but I can hear the shower going in the bathroom. I tug off my work clothes
and hang them up, lying down on the bed in my boxers to wait for her. She emerges within a
few minutes, a bathrobe wrapped around her body, her wet hair hanging loose around her
shoulders. She grins when she sees me.

“What, no rose between your teeth?” she quips.

“Oh, you thought this was for your benefit?” I tease back. “I was just waiting for a shower.”
She chuckles, shrugging. “Well, you know you're basically a piece of meat to me.” She makes her
way to sit on the edge of the bed and bends to kiss me. “Mmm, you taste like afternoon coffee.”

“You taste like toothpaste. Much more pleasant.” I tug lightly at the edge of her robe, folded
over her swollen breasts. “Is this for my benefit?”

“If you tread lightly. They're still tender.”

I withdraw my hand to find hers. “Probably for the best at the moment. I'm guessing I don't
smell much better than I taste. I've been sweating in a business suit all day.”

“I was sweating through dance classes most of my day.”

I prop myself up on my elbow, looking at her with concern as I reach out to tuck a strand of wet
hair behind her ear.

“Are you sure you should be dancing right now?”

“Relax, Top Gun. I'm mostly marking. Not doing anything River and I can't handle...” She trails
off, averting her eyes. Her profile settles into a frown. I sit up, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“...You okay, Princess?”

“I...went into the poolhouse earlier...”

I exhale slowly. The poolhouse. Where we've been keeping the trunk we got from the crystal
planet. The trunk containing the Andromeda idol.

“...Did you...?”

“No. ...I didn't want to alone. ...It's active, though. It was calling me. It's calmed down now, but...I
could feel it.”

“You know it's gonna keep up until you touch it.”

“I know. But as long as I can—ung!” She cuts herself off with a sharp gasp, pitching forward
slightly and clutching her belly.

“Taylor!” I launch myself off the bed, kneeling in front of her. “What is it, Princess? Are you
okay?”

She raises her head, her eyes wide. “...They moved. ...Jake, our baby moved!” She breaks into a
grin, laughing dazedly. “River Skye is alive!”

“...River...?” I let my hand drift to her belly. She smiles a little.

“You may not be able to feel anything yet,” she cautions, even as she opens her robe to place my
hand on the swell. I wait for a moment, my hand pressed flat to her belly.

“I...I don't know...I can't tell if I'm feeling River or gas.”

She laughs. “Trust me, I feel River.”

“Hell, Princess, that's good enough for me.” I rise to press my lips to hers. “My beautiful wife.
Mother of my child.”

I kiss her again. And I keep kissing her. I want to distract her. I want her to forget about that
amber thing in the poolhouse. I know it's ultimately futile. But just for now...just for a little
while...

Lila

Five years ago, I woke up in a hospital in Florida. The last thing I could remember was lying on
the floor, surrounded by the bodies of Arachnid soldiers. I was satisfied, knowing that I had
protected the Selected, that I had covered their escape. I thought I was dead. But there I was, in
a hospital bed and a gown with a needle in my hand. On the television set mounted to the
corner of the ceiling, I watched Mr. Rourke being led out of a courtroom in handcuffs, shouting
about the crystal people coming for us all.

Things were a little bit of a blur when I got out of the hospital. I gave them a false name as a
precaution, and it stuck. As far as the Selected knew, Lila Sethi was dead, so that was what
everyone else assumed. I made my way to my apartment before they could clear it out and
broke in to gather a few personal affects, and that was the last of Lila Sethi. It was easy enough
to start again. Sure, there were a few rough months while I scraped some money together, but I
know how to get by on the streets. I stole, I begged, I did chores, I even turned a few tricks. And
eventually, I found myself working retail in New York for a little over minimum wage. I never
seriously considered going back to Rourke International. Now that Aleister and Estela were in
charge, I doubt I would have been welcome.

I'm not sure what exactly possessed me to ever visit Mr. Rourke in the hospital. Maybe I just felt
sorry for him. I know what it's like to lose everything. Once I believed he could give me back
what I had lost. The man I found in that hospital was so different from the one I had known,
that I only pitied him more. When I gave him the phone disguised the the hairbrush, one of the
things I had managed to recover from my old life, I think I was hoping that having someone
friendly to talk to would keep him from losing the last of his humanity. I didn't hear from him
for years. Then Taylor came back.
I shouldn't have agreed to observe her. I mean, it was harmless enough at first, but then she
discovered she was pregnant. I shouldn't have told him. But I didn't know how to hide it. I don't
really know what he's planning. The revival of Project Janus, I guess. But exactly how he'll do
that without the Island's Heart or the Endless...

… I think he means to use Taylor. But there isn't any proof that she has any power outside of
the island, especially now that the time bubble has been destroyed.

Maybe that's the best I can hope for. That she doesn't have any power left and that Mr. Rourke
will realize that before he hurts anyone.

No. Dammit, Lila, don't be stupid. You know that's not good enough. The best you can do now is
to get out! Cut him off. Don't answer when he calls. He can't hurt you. He can't hurt you and he
doesn't care. Just forget about him. Live your new life, free of his influence.

… My phone is ringing. I know who it will be before I even look at the screen.

“No,” I growl to myself, clapping my hands over my ears and screwing my eyes shut. “Don't
answer him. You were free before. You died free! Stay free! This is your second chance!”

The ringing stops, and I open my eyes. My phone has gone dark. Then a missed call notification
pops up on the screen. I hesitantly lower my hands from my ears. I realize that I'm trembling.
My fingertip leaves streaks on the screen as I hastily delete the notification before I'm tempted
to call back.

Block him, Lila. Just block him.

My screen lights up again, my phone trilling a ringtone. In my teenage years, I saw many people
who were addicted to drugs. Heroin. Cocaine. Meth. Opiates. I watched their minds and bodies
drive them mercilessly towards the next fix, sometimes driving them to death. Some addictions
didn't reach the body. But an addiction in the mind could be just as deadly. Pot, pornography,
gambling. At fourteen, I was the one to identify my foster-brother's body when his gambling
debts landed him in hot water with the wrong people. It's his face in my mind when I tap the
green button on my phone.

“...H-hello?”

“Lila, dear. Listen carefully. I have a job for you.”

Kenji

“A Halloween party?”
“Yeah! Seriously, what's with those faces? It's a great idea?”

Mid-morning on a Friday, Grayson and Tahira sit across from me in a booth at the Grand. It's
the perfect time for a business meeting. Not even the cleaning staff are here at this hour. I just
can't believe that they both look so skeptical.

“It's not that it isn't a great idea,” Tahira says quickly. “It's just...Halloween is a week away. And
logistically, that's cutting it kinda close.”

“Hey, you can let me worry about the details. The Grand remains the biggest party scene in
Bayside, and we're missing out on huge profits if we don't take advantage of such a big party
night.”

“Halloween's on a Tuesday,” Grayson points out. “Most people will be working the next
morning.”

“That doesn't stop most people,” I retort. “...But, I can see your point. Maybe we can run the
specials all weekend. Half-price drinks, half-price admission for anyone in costume, that sort of
thing. Maybe we can get a band or two to play for a few hours each night.”

Tahira nudges Grayson lightly. “...We both know the Hartfeld students like to drive up to
Northbridge for Halloween weekend. It's a big money opportunity. And the whole reason for
reopening the Grand was to revitalize Bayside. I don't think we can avoid to miss many
opportunities.”

Grayson sighs. “...Is this really what you want to be worrying about right now, Tahira?” he asks
softly. Tahira and I exchange a glance. Grayson has been welcomed into our confidence, and he
fits in so easily that it's sometimes easy to forget that he hasn't lived with the whole double-life
thing as long as Tahira and Eva and I have.

“Don't worry about me, Grayson. I've gotten good at balancing Tahira and Dragonness.”

“Right...of course.”

“Listen, Grayson. With everything you're going through, no one's going to expect you to make
an appearance.”

“But maybe I should. To show them that I don't intend to let my Dad retake the company. That I
don't intend to let him dictate my business decisions, and that I'm still committed to
revitalizing Bayside, not bulldozing it.”

“Hey, that's the spirit!” I say encouragingly. “Hey, the way I figure it, with everything we've
been through lately, we all deserve a few nights to cut loose. Especially you two.”
Craig

It's been way too long since Zahra and I really had some proper time alone together. And with
both of us off for the day on Sunday, we spend Saturday evening plotting the perfect day in. The
fact that Sunday is rainy and chilly just makes it better. We stay in bed having sex until at least
noon. When we finally leave the bed, we take the blankets with us to curl up on the couch, drink
coffee, and play classic video games while we wait for the pizza we ordered. For awhile, there is
nothing else in the world but me and Zahra, cuddling under a worn-out comforter while our
sprites whale on each other on the screen.

“Oh, you still comin' at me, Player Two? You're about two hits away from dead, you might as
well just lie down and accept your fate!”

“Nuh-uh! Power up! Boom! Health bar restored, and now you're at half!”

“What?! Where the hell did you pick that up?!”

“Not my fault you were too distracted to notice when it fell from the sky!”

“Yeah, well screw you! I'm gonna beat you anyway!”

“Oh, yeah? How do you figure that?”

“'Cause I always do!”

And of course, thirty seconds later, she does, with a massive bolt of lightning. I groan, letting
the controller fall into my lap.

“Daaaamn. Gorgeous woman who has sex with me and beats me at video games? I'm so in love
with you, Zahra.”

She blushes, which makes me smirk. I always feel a little smug when I can get her to blush.
Predictably, she covers it by swatting me.

“Shut up and kiss me already, loser.”

I do as she tells me, then pull back with a grin. “Okay, I'm bored with that game. Let's play Jump
Bros Racing instead. Then at least I'll stand half a chance.”

By the time the pizza arrives, the combination of the gray day outside, the lamps inside, and an
hour or so staring at the TV screen has my vision all wonky. I blink and rub my eyes, trying to
force them to see colors properly again as I stumble to the door. I thank the delivery guy, push
the tip into his hand, and go back to the couch, balancing two large pizza boxes on my hands.
The smell of cheese, sausage, green peppers, mushrooms, and pepperoni reminds me that I
haven't eaten all day. My stomach rumbles. Zahra, who picked up her phone while I was getting
the pizza, snorts.

“Jesus, Craig. Your stomach growls louder than you fart.”

“But not louder than I burp,” I retort. She snickers and pushes on my head.

“Got a text from Kenji. They're planning a big Halloween weekend bash at the Grand, and he
wants my band to play. He's offering $300 since it's short notice, and he'll throw in another $50
if we agree to do two nights.”

“Dope. You gonna do it?”

“Well, obviously, I'll have to talk to everyone, make sure they can all make it, but for that kinda
money at the Grand, I think I'd be an idiot not to. ...Only problem is, we haven't really had a
rehearsal since...well, since before the Catalyst reunion. Just with the way everything's been so
crazy...”

“Yeah...it kinda has been. ...But hey, today is about forgetting all the crazy, right? Let's
concentrate on eating this pizza. Then we can marathon Seven Crystals until our eyes bleed.”

“Oh, God, yes!” She tosses her phone aside and dives for the top pizza box, pulling out a hot,
gooey slice. She sucks the point into her mouth and chomps down, tearing it off like a wild
animal devouring its prey. I can't help grinning.

“Are you aware that you're the sexiest thing on two legs?”

She pokes one leg out from under the blanket and pulls up the leg of her pajama pants. “Two
legs that I haven't shaved in two days?”

I pretend to examine the dark, stubbly hairs on her calf. Then I imitate her, poking my own leg
out. “I haven't shaved my legs in two years!”

“You shaved your legs two years ago?”

“Uhh...no. I guess not. So, I haven't shaved my legs in...ever. But you can still be my leg-hair
buddy, even if you're not as hairy as me.”

She laughs, putting her leg down and taking another bite of pizza. “Eat your pizza, scrublord. I
need my Player Two if I'm gonna get through Seven Crystals.”

Estela
Until I'm back in it, I sometimes forget how much chilly air can feel like pain. These past
months, I went right from San Trobida to La Huerta to Northbridge and southern California in
high summer, and then back to San Trobida. It was still summer when I returned to
Northbridge to help my brother investigate Silas Prescott and his machine. Now a true New
England autumn has officially crowded out summer. That's the other thing I've learned to
dislike about the transition from summer to winter in the northeastern United States. Unlike
the change between the tropical and frigid zones on La Huerta, this one comes on gradually,
and I end up feel like the proverbial frog in a pot, not recognizing the change until one day I
walk outside and my extremities start going numb.

Even with a jacket, scarf, and gloves, I can still feel it nipping at me as I make my way down the
sidewalk in the early afternoon sunshine. I wouldn't even be out in it, but I needed a change of
scene. I head toward Michelle and Quinn's apartment. I know that Michelle and Sean will both
be at work about now, but maybe Quinn has a little time to spare. I could use some company
right now besides my mother.

Much to my relief, when I arrive at my destination and press the buzzer, Quinn's voice sounds
on the intercom.

“Who is it?”

“Hey, Quinn. It's Estela. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“Nothing that can't wait. Just a sec, I'll buzz you up.”

I hear the soft buzz and the click of the lock, and yank the door open. Blessed warmth wafts
over me as I step inside the lobby. The feeling is returning to my digits by the time I reach
Quinn's unit. She's waiting for me with the door propped open. The smell of cinnamon and
cloves drifts into the hallway.

“Come on in. I was just making some cider. Want to try some? It's nice and warm, just off the
stove.”

“Anything warm sounds heavenly right now,” I reply, slipping off my coat and hanging it in the
closet. “Sorry to drop in unexpectedly. I hope I'm not intruding.”

“If you were, I wouldn't have let you in,” she replies, waving a hand dismissively. “Sit down.
Take a load off.”

I obey, sitting down at the kitchen table. Murphy immediately jumps up into my lap, cooing. I
rub his cool, silky ears around the bases, and he trills with pleasure. Quinn ladles cider into two
mugs printed with brightly-colored cartoon characters, and joins me at the table, sitting across
from me. I cup the mug between my hands, letting the heat of the cider penetrating the ceramic
warm my hands.
“So what brings you my way?”

I sigh. “I needed a change of scene, I suppose. Some space to think in.”

“Perhaps you're also looking for someone to share your thoughts with, since you seem to have
sought out company.”

I take a warm, sweet sip from my mug. “Perceptive, aren't you.”

She smiles a little. “I try. So what's on your mind?”

“...Mom is talking about going back to San Trobida. To spend time with my Tio.”

“...How is she going to explain her ressurection to your Tio?”

“She hasn't decided yet. She has promised to leave Taylor out of her explanation. I'm mostly
trying to decide whether I want to go back with her.”

She raises an eyebrow. “That's in question?”

“Should it not be? The Catalysts are all here in the States...”

“We've mostly been in the States for the last five years, but you've never felt the need to leave
San Trobida for more than a visit or business. Even if you've been forced to delay, as far as I
knew, you never questioned eventually going back.”

I snort a little. “You make me sound like the slightly estranged or...independent sister. You
know, the one who breezes in a few times a year to give presents and then disappears again.”

She chuckles. “You know I don't mean it like that. We're family, the eleven—the twelve—of us.
But we're not in college anymore, not all living in one place. And that's okay. We have lives and
families outside of each other, as we should. That's the whole reason Taylor gave herself up,
was to give us that. San Trobida has always been your home. It's where your blood family is.”

“Except for my brother. And my nephew.”

“True. Still, it's where the family that raised you is.” She frowns slightly. “And I would have
thought you would want to stay with your mother. And your boyfriend must be missing you.”

I am quiet for a long moment. I take another long swallow of cider, and place my mug back on
the table.

“...I love my mother. I will always love her. But it's been eleven years. I'm not the same person I
was when she died.”
“...Is she not able to accept that?”

“It isn't that exactly,” I reply. “She understands that time has passed and I've grown. The
problem is that we don't relate to each other the way we used to. I've gotten so used to living
without her, having her back is a shock, even taking out the shock that comes just from the fact
that she's alive. She understands that. That is, she grasps the concept. But trying to work with
that...figure out who we are to each other now... It's like...when your parents realized that you
were really and truly cured. Remember how you were always saying that treating you like a
sick person was a habit they had to break? Treating you like a sick person and arguing with
each other about it?”

“Yeah. ...They were glad I was healthy, of course. But they'd spent so many years stressing
about my health that they couldn't let go of it right away.”

“It's a little like that. ...Of course I want her in my life. But I have to figure out how that works
with the person I am now. And I'm not sure living under the same roof is the way to figure that
out. And as to my boyfriend...he isn't. Anymore.”

Quinn looks up sharply, startled. “What?! When did this happen?!”

“Right about the time we introduced you to Rochelle.”

“But...that was weeks ago. Why didn't you say anything?”

I shrug, keeping my eyes on my cider mug. “We had other things to concern ourselves with.
Besides, I...needed time to process.”

“Are you...okay?”

I shrug. “Well, I'm hardly walking on air, but I'm not bitterly torn up, either. I suppose in the
end, we simply didn't have enough in common to sustain the relationship. At first it was intense
and passionate, but once that initial thrill wore off...” I sigh. “...Honestly, the fact that there's a
large part of my life he'll never understand...that no lover could really understand...”

“No lover except another Catalyst, anyway,” she says softly.

“Right. ...I had hoped him being part of the resistance back in the day might have made that part
easier to deal with. Maybe it would with the right person...”

“Sometimes it takes time to find that right person,” Quinn says softly. “Believe me, I know. But
hey, that's true for everyone, not just Catalysts. We come with a little more baggage than
most...but that would have been true even if we had never gone to that island.”

I smirk a little. “So, you're saying that I'm not so special?”

She laughs, and I know it's because she enjoys my teasing. It took me awhile to learn how to
playfully rib my friends the way they had always done with me and each other. But I've gotten
the hang of it for the most part.

“I'm saying you're normal, silly.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand. I raise my
eyes to meet hers, dark brown on sapphire blue. “Let yourself feel bad as long as you need to.
As long as you know underneath it all that it's not the end of the world.”

“Oh, I know that well enough,” I quip ruefully. “We've both lived through the end of the world.”

“Yeah, we have. And you're a strong, beautiful woman with everything going for her. You'll
bounce back from this.”

I smile, squeezing her hand. “Thanks, Quinn. You're pretty good at pep talks.”

“Well, I try. Now, how about we get some cupcakes started while we try to talk through your
other problem?”

Lila

All right, Lila. This is going to be easy. Just walk right in. If he's awake, hand him the note. If he
isn't, just leave it under his hand and walk out.

I have my disguise, a nurse's scrubs and ID badge, bearing my picture, but the name of a nurse
on staff here who happens to be off today. It should be easy. I shouldn't be hesitating so much. I
never used to have trouble doing exactly what Mr. Rourke asked me to do. Well..hardly any
trouble. I believed in him then. I believed in him, and I put aside any scruples because I believed
he was doing good for the world. Saving every lost little girl like me. I don't believe in him
anymore. So why can't I walk away from him?

The note in the pocket of my scrub pants isn't long, but it feels very heavy. Uncomfortably
bulky. The edge of the folded paper pokes into my thigh. I've read it, with permission from Mr.
Rouke: “An old friend sends his regards. If you are serious about your goal, you'll need more than
the dragonness. We can help each other.”

It's signed with the sigil of the Hydra, and a weird symbol that Mr. Rourke says will alert him
that there is more information written in disappearing ink, and that he will need to heat the
paper. That will reveal Mr. Rourke's contact information, and possibly more.

It doesn't feel harmless. In fact, it feels like it could be very harmful. But I can't walk away. But I
can't walk forward, either.
Do something, Lila! Choose something!

And before I quite realize what's happened, I'm at the door to Silas Prescott's hospital room,
where police officers are standing guard. I flash my badge, and they read the name, checking it
against the list. The nearest officer gives me a curt nod, and I slip inside.

Silas Prescott is asleep, his heart monitor showing his pulse in a steady blip. Before I can
change my mind again, I slip the note out of my pocket and gently lift his hand to place it
underneath. He doesn't even stir. He must be sedated.

I turn away from the bed, lingering in the room just long enough to give the impression that I
did more than just slip a note under his hand. Then I leave. I have to get out of here. Get out of
this place. Get away from Silas Prescott. Get away from Everett Rourke...

But it looks like my escape may be delayed. Because not three yards outside the room, with my
eyes on the floor and my mind a million miles away, I run headlong into someone coming in the
other direction. A white-coated doctor studying a clipboard. We both recover ourselves,
straightening our clothes and mumbling apologies. Then, our eyes meet, and we both freeze.

...I have just run headlong into Michelle Nguyen.

Notes:
Just something I want to share with my readers because I feel like you guys could actually be
interested in this. It's just a few songs I've been obsessed with lately because I feel like they
make good character/moment songs for my particular take on Endless Summer. If you're
interested, I may share a few more in another chapter or two, but here are the two big ones I've
got so far:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u12HclXbC3M
"Beautiful Girl" - Broken Iris

Kind of perfect for the first chapter of Book 4, with Jake trying to get over Taylor after she's
been gone for five years. Pretty straightforward.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy6MpsDPKts

"Paradise (What About Us)" - Within Temptation

This is probably the more interesting one to me. I kind of imagine it as a duet between Taylor
and the Endless when she's trying to make her choice at the end of Book 3, and she considers
taking the Endless' route because of her own anger and bitterness at her situation. I think of the
"What about us?" question to be one Taylor and the Endless are both asking about themselves
and each other. "What about us? This past and future self who have built lives for ourselves on
this island?" ...Plus, this song has Sharon den Adel singing a duet with Tarja Turunen. Two sexy
goddess of hard rock/metal, and what's not to love about that?

Chapter 28: Mimicry

Summary:
Lila seeks shelter with the Catalysts. Estela and Aleister confront their father. Meanwhile,
Tahira gets an unexpected visitor.
Chapter Text

Tahira

Why, oh why did I agree to do this press conference so early in the morning? I barely slept last
night, and a cup of extra strong coffee isn't really cutting through the haze. But I've got Grayson
on one side of me and Meiko Katsaros on the other, offering support. One of these two people
knows who I am under the mask and supersuit I'm wearing. Both are necessary allies at this
conference. I clear my throat, shifting slightly at the podium.

“I know the first question on everyone's minds has to be regarding my whereabouts for the last
ten weeks. To be honest, the exact location is still something of a mystery. It appears that the
experimental reactivation of the Prism Gate within the Prescott Industries lab is what allowed
me to return with Silas Prescott, and several of the scientists who were involved in the project
are working with me to get some answers, but as of right now, I don't have anything more to
say on that matter. As to whether or not Silas Prescott may still present a threat, I can assure
you that DA Katsaros and the Northbridge Police Department are keeping him under
surveillance while he recovers. And once he does, it will be up to the justice system to decide
what will become of him then. I will be advising them as far as I am allowed, advocating for a
course of action that keeps the public safe. And I will now open the floor to questions...”
Michelle

Tahira's press conference flickers on the television set mounted near the ceiling in the corner
of the hospital cafeteria. It's on the edge of my vision, but I only let it hold my attention for an
instant before my eyes drop back to Lila, sitting across from me with her knees drawn to her
chest. Her coffee is going cold on the table in front of her. She is still wearing scrubs, and the
nametag of a nurse I actually know fairly well. If I hadn’t been told by the Endless that Lila was
alive, I would have taken this woman across from me for one of nature’s doppelgangers. A trick
of genetics and chance that happened to create a person nearly identical to Lila in appearance.
This woman acts nothing like the Lila I knew on the island. That Lila was as irritatingly bubbly
as she was ruthless, and neither side of her personality was a lie. That image of her doesn’t
quite gel with the woman sitting across from me now, showing a dozen red flags.

“Lila, why don’t you take that nametag off?” I coax gently.

“I’m not Lila anymore,” she mutters. But she complies, removing the badge and placing it
facedown on the table in front of her.

“Is there another name you go by now?”

“…Most of the time. But…” She trails off and stays silent, giving no indication that she intends to
continue that thought.

“…Do you want to tell me what it is?”

She shakes her head. “No. Just call me Lila.” She looks up at me. “You don’t seem surprised to
see me.”

“…Actually, I am.” It’s not really a lie. I wasn’t expecting to see her here. “At least a little.”

“I suppose with Taylor turning up again, it can’t be that big of a shock to find out that I’m alive,
too.”

“Clearly you haven’t completely neglected to watch the news. But in point of fact, we learned
that Mike was alive well before Taylor came back.”

“…Mike…which one was Mike?”

Oh, right. She was already dead by the time Mouse’s identity was revealed.

“Jake’s navy buddy. The one who was killed by his commander. Or…so he thought. Mike
actually survived, and he became Mouse. We rescued him from Lundgren, but then he was
killed helping us in the final battle. And then we got off the island and discovered him alive.”
“…Oh. Of course. I remember Commander Lundgren’s trial…”

“Now. Why don’t you tell me what you were doing in Silas Prescott’s hospital room?” Lila averts
her eyes, hugging her knees more tightly to her chest. When she doesn't answer after a
moment, I continue, lowering my voice. “I don't want to get you in trouble, Lila. If you can
convince me that you don't mean him any harm, I am entirely willing to overlook the fact that
you're illegally impersonating a nurse.”

Lila looks up sharply, fear and hurt in her eyes. “I wasn't going to hurt him...” she whispers
faintly. “I...was just a messenger...”

I hold her gaze, and will her not to look away. “...Who's message were you delivering?” I ask like
a mother who already knows the answer. I fear that I do.

Tears are pooling in Lila's eyes now. Her lips start to quiver as her face reddens. I'm not
entirely expecting what she says next...although perhaps I should have been.

“...Help me, Michelle. Please...I think he's going to make me hurt someone.”

I take a moment to collect myself, the way I do when a patient starts coding. “...By 'he', I assume
you mean...?”

She nods. “...Mr. Rourke,” she whispers.

“Rourke is in prison, Lila. He's in prison for life. He can't make you hurt anyone.”

“Yes, he can!” she growls under her breath. “You know he can! You know he has that power!”

“You resisted him once before,” I remind her. “When he wanted you to hurt us. You fought back.
Protected us.”

She is quiet for a moment, apparently considering this. Then she sighs, shaking her head.

“I think I was stronger then.”

I frown, lowering my voice. At this hour, the cafeteria is pretty quiet, but I'm not taking chances
here. “Lila, how long have you been...alive?”

“...I...think it's been about five years...”

“And...how long have you been in contact with Rourke?”

“...About since he went to prison. A few months after.”

“What?! Oh, Lila...!” I'm caught between frustration and pity. I know from Taylor that Lila didn't
have any family on the outside. She dedicated her life to Rourke because she believed he could
erase her troubled childhood. “Why didn't you seek one of us out? You must have realized we
all made it off the island, and you were our friend at the end. We could have helped you.”

She shrugs miserably. “...Maybe I wanted you to remember me as I was.”

“...But you went back to Rourke?”

“I don't know, Michelle. I felt sorry for him. I wasn't intending to show him anything except
sympathy...”

“Except that Rourke is a master manipulator. He's a psychologically abusive asshole, and losing
everything hasn't changed that.”

Lila shakes her head hard. Then, quick as a striking snake, she reaches out to grasp my wrist. “It
doesn't matter. It doesn't matter how it happened. You have to help me now. He knows Taylor
is alive. He knows she's pregnant. And he's planning something.”

Taylor

I'm dreaming. I know I am. I'm clinging to the mast of The Dorado while Cetus' storm has the sea
roiling and crashing against the hull. I've lived through this moment. And now I'm living it again.
And I know what happens this time.

I won't...I won't watch him die...

Craig is going to die this time. The dream me, the one who doesn't know what's going to happen,
doesn't understand why she's suddenly looking around for Craig. Why she's suddenly so sure he's
in trouble. But it won't be until Cetus' tail comes down and splits the deck in half that he'll be lost.

Wake up! Wake up! There is no point in reliving this!

Isn't there...? Isn't knowledge your greatest weapon? To protect them? To protect yourself? To
protect your child?

...But what can I learn from this? What can I learn from watching this again?

What makes you think I can tell you? I'm only your subconscious. Or perhaps I am the Endless.
Or even your father.
Cetus' tail lands the blow that shatters the deck and throws me into the sea. I can feel the
electrical current that rushes through his body as if through my own. It leaves me stunned, too
stunned to think of swimming. It's Craig who first finds me in the water, holding my head above
the surface, while he is battered by the raging waves...

No! No, I won't! Let me go!

I'm not holding you captive, Taylor. Go back to your husband...

… I come awake with a soft gasp. The child in my womb stirs in response, as does their father
beside me. His hand gropes for mine.

“You okay, 'Lodia...?” he mumbles, his voice languid with sleep.

I blink, getting my bearings. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 2:41am. “I'm fine. River
just decided that this was the perfect time to practice kickboxing.”

Jake shifts onto his side, stroking my belly with his free hand. “Go back to sleep, kiddo. Your
mama needs her rest.”

“So does your papa,” I remark. “You'll be waking both of us up at all hours with crying soon
enough. He should sleep while he can. Unfortunately, he's kind of a worrywart, and he wakes
up whenever I do.”

“Someday, kiddo, you'll hear a story that explains exactly why that is.”

“...But not for a very long time, I hope.”

“Well, I'm not suggesting it would ever be a bedtime story. I'm guessing our kid will have the
sex talk years before they have the 'Mama's half-alien' talk. Hell, I'd suggest we give 'em the
'Papa spent three years on the run from the military' talk before we try to explain everything
that happened on that island and why they have so many aunties and uncles who aren't related
to us.”

“...But you think we should tell them eventually?”

“I think it's not unlikely they'll need to know. And I want them to know some day that their
mama saved the world.”

I snort a little. “Well...there's time enough to figure out when and how we'd explain everything.
Nearly 3am isn't exactly the time to be making decisions like that.”

“Fair enough.” Jake draws me gently into his arms. “Let's get some sleep instead.”
I close my eyes and nestle my head on his chest. My head rises and falls as he lets out a
contented sigh and presses a kiss to the top of my head. I tighten my grip, trying to ignore the
growing dread behind my heart. In the back of my mind, I can hear it calling me, the image of
the chained woman hidden in the poolhouse, carved from the amber of Elyys'tel.

Sean

“We need to warn Taylor and Jake,” I insist.

“Warn them of what?” Michelle snaps, exasperated. “That a man who is currently languishing in
a criminal asylum on the opposite side of the country thinks he might be able to use her or her
baby to activate a doomsday machine?”

“You make him sound so harmless,” I snap back. “You know he isn't. He's a dangerous
egomaniac with an indomitable will who actually built a functional doomsday machine that he
could have used her in...”

Michelle sighs, rubbing her hands over her face. “You're right,” she concedes. “He's not
harmless. But right now, he's contained. The Omega Mech doesn't exist anymore. Neither does
the Island's Heart. I don't doubt he has the will, but right now, he's severely lacking in
resources. There's no good reason to stress them out right now. Especially while Taylor's
pregnant.”

“Michelle,” Quinn says gently, “think about that for more than a moment, you'll realize keeping
it from them is a really bad idea. If you thought a patient of yours might have cancer, you
wouldn't hide it from them just because you also thought it was a long shot and you didn't want
to stress them out.”

Michelle looks down at her hands, gripping fistfuls of her scrub pants in her lap. I reach over to
cover her hand with mine, stroking her knuckles with my thumb.

“...Taylor and Jake aren't patients,” she says flatly.

“No,” I agree. “They're our friends.”

“...And they won't thank us if we hide this from them,” Quinn adds. “They have a right to know.”

Michelle closes her eyes with a sigh. Finally, she nods. “Okay. You're right. We'll call a Catalyst
meeting. But...I think first, we should decide what to do with Lila.”

I glance over at Lila, curled up on the armchair in the corner of Michelle and Quinn's apartment,
gazing back at us with dull, exhausted eyes. It doesn't feel quite right, discussing her as if she
isn't in the room, but I honestly don't know if she'd talk back if we did try to bring her into the
conversation.
“I don't think we should keep her here,” I murmur. “For a few reasons. One of which is named
Montoya.” I don't mention a first name on purpose. I don't think Lila has been made aware that
Olivia is alive, and I don't want her to find out like this.

“That is a good point. The closer to us Lila stays, the more likely it is she's going to encounter
her. And...that could get messy. Frankly, I don't think either of them need that right now.”

“But where else could she go that would be safe?” Quinn asks worriedly. “Ultimately, isn't Lila
safest with the Catalysts? What if Aleister and Grace were to look after her?”

“And what if Rourke has some way of tracking her?” I ask. “If he gets his claws in her again,
she'll then have access to basically all the resources of Rourke International.”

“I'd suggest sending her to be looked after on the west coast,” Quinn sighs, “but if she is being
tracked...that would be even more dangerous, since she'd basically have total access to Taylor
and the baby.”

“And that is not an option,” Michelle declares fiercely. Her mouth twists a little. “I...suppose we
could take her to a women's shelter...”

I feel something cold grip my gut. My grasp on Michelle's hand tightens involuntarily. She
frowns, her free hand coming up to cup my cheek, and gently turn my face toward her.

“...Sweetie, are you okay?”

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my mouth. “Y-yeah. But...I don't know if a women's
shelter is going to be the best place for her...”

“Why not? They're better equipped to counsel and protect abused women than any pocket of
Catalysts on our own would be.”

“None of them know Rourke, though. And...” I trail off, hesitating for a moment. While I feel
plenty safe revealing details of my troubled childhood to Michelle and Quinn and indeed any of
the Catalysts, having Lila in the room makes it more difficult. But I draw in a breath, and lower
my voice. “When I was about twelve, Dad went through a particularly bad phase. Like...bad
even for him. Momma actually feared for our lives. It was the one time she tried to get away.
Packed me up and drove to a women's shelter while he was out of the house. It wasn't like it
was a bad place, but it also wasn't the most secure, and...”

“...He found you,” Michelle finishes grimly. I nod.

“Didn't do any physical or property damage, just came in and yelled a lot, scared the crap out of
all the residents and their kids. ...My dad was unhinged and brain damaged. Rourke...isn't. Well,
unhinged, maybe, but he's sharp. He's deadly smart.”

“...And in prison,” Michelle reminds me.

I shake my head. “No prison is escape-proof. You know that. We were warned. You heard it
from her own lips.”

“Guys?” Quinn pipes up. “...I think I may have a solution.”

Raj

“Absolutely. Don't even worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Sean asks. “Are Craig and Zahra gonna be okay with it?”

“I'm not going to be here much longer. I have to be in Rome in a few days. It will be nice to have
company. If you're okay with putting her up another day or two, then I can take over after that
no problem.”

“Wow, buddy, that would be amazing of you. It's just that it doesn't feel like she'd be safe leaving
her at a women's shelter, but we don't want to keep her in the same city as the Montoyas longer
than we have to--”

“Hey, man, you don't need to explain. Lila's our friend, even if there is still some leftover
awkwardness. I want to help her.” I hesitate a moment. “But...regarding what she told
you...about Rourke's plans. ...How much danger do you think there actually is?”

“That's kinda hard to predict. Michelle managed to get it out of Lila that he's been contacting her
via a cellphone disguised as a hairbrush. We blocked his number, and we can probably get that
brush confiscated from him. But...I don't know. I don't think I can ever be completely confident
that Rourke isn't a threat anymore. Not since Taylor came back.”

I sigh. “...Yeah...I get that. God, it's so crappy that she still has to worry about him at a time like
this.”

“It's crappy that she has to worry about him at all. I feel shitty saying this, but I wish he would just
die already. He's not doing anyone any good hanging around, why can't he just give up the damn
ghost and leave us all alone?”

I sigh. “Honestly, man...I bet even Aleister would agree with you there.”

Aleister
“This feels like a foolish idea.”

From the driver's seat, Estela glances at me just briefly before turning her attention back on the
road.

“I need to know what he knows. I need to know what he's planning.”

“He's not going to give himself away. You know that.”

I watch her grip tighten on the steering wheel, watch her masseter bludge against the skin of
her jaw as her molars grind into each other.

“I have to look him in the eye.”

“...I worry that we'll give away more secrets than we gain from him,” I sigh.

“How long have you known me that you think I can't keep secrets?” she asks peevishly. “Do you
think I could have been a San Trobidian revolutionary if I were that prone to cracking under
pressure?”

I can't hold back a wry smile. “Dear sister, when it comes to secrets, you are a locked safe. You
will not yeild but for the right combination. But let us be realistic, you are not subtle. Everyone
knows a locked safe conceals valuables, even if they can't access them.”

Perhaps in spite of herself, she snorts, and I see a smile playing around her mouth. “And what
does that make you, brother? Are you a locked safe concealed behind a hidden panel?”

“Absolutely not. I was a complete disappointment to the man, remember? At best, I am a

Batesian mimic.”

“...A what?”

“A harmless prey species that evolves to resemble one that is harmful to its predator. Such as
the viceroy butterfly whose colors mimic those of the toxic monarch butterfly. ...Or, perhaps to
use a more apt example, the harmless king snake, whose coloring resembles that of the
venomous coral snake.”

“...Of course. Much more fitting to compare our dear...sperm donor to a venomous snake than a
butterfly.” She is quiet for another moment. “...I want to make sure we get ahold of that
hairbrush-phone. I don't fully trust the guards at that place. I'm sure they're doing their best,
but...”

“But Father is a dangerous megalomaniac, a master manipulator, et cetera.”

“Precisely.”
I sigh, leaning back in the passenger seat and letting my head drop against the headrest.
“Well...I'm still worried about this whole idea. But I suppose we can't just let it lie when Lila was
sent to deliver a note to Silas Prescott. ...That suggests he isn't resting on his laurels.”

“Or the memories of his laurels. Clearly he wants to taste glory again, and the means may exist
to him now.”

I feel my fingers curl tightly against my palms. “We won't let him get to her.”

***

As usual, Estela and I are searched at the door for any dangerous items that we may otherwise
smuggle into our detained father before we are finally led to the visitation room. We are made
to sit in chairs spaced a safe distance apart so that we could not touch each other, and guards
remain beside us, watching for any suspicious movement. Twenty minutes later, our father is
led into the room. We are each permitted one embrace at the beginning of our visit, and one at
the end. To keep up appearances, we each stand in turn, gingerly taking his hands while he
stiffly kisses our cheeks. I'm sure the guards never miss the way we flinch at his touch, but if
they have opinions on it, they have never shared them with me.

It would be impossible to miss the rather large bandage wrapped around his right hand, even if
he didn't physically touch me. I let my eyes linger on it as he seats himself across from us,
folding his hands delicately in his lap.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he remarks, his voice honeyed and cloying. “It has been quite some
time since my children visited me.”

“Perhaps now you have some idea of what it was like to have you for a father,” I snap back.
“...What happened to your hand?”

“Ahh, this? A little...incident in art therapy. One of the new inmates doesn't seem to be very fond
of me because he stabbed my hand with a pencil when I reached across the table for the glue.
He wasn't supposed to have a pencil. Heaven knows how he got ahold of one.” He smiles
placidly, pointing to a spot on the palm of his hand. “Right about there. Most of the graphite was
removed, but it does seem that some has been left behind. I am likely to have a small gray
tattoo for the rest of my life.”

“Fascinating,” Estela deadpans. “Have they taken away your hairbrush yet?”

Father rolls his eyes. “Yes, my dear. Since you managed to find out about that, all my personal
effects have been confiscated. I may only use what toiletries they provide me with now.”
“You should have realized it would only be a matter of time before we figured out it had gone
missing. And considering it has a tracking device...”

It does not actually have a tracking device. And the project is so old that no one at Rourke
International has paid attention to it in at least fifteen years. And of course, Father knows that. I
am sure he has guessed by now how we knew of the hairbrush-phone. But I take a chance on
the belief that he does not wish to get Lila into legal trouble for smuggling a phone into a
prison.

“I will concede I did not expect it to last. But I was so unbearably bored.” He pauses, tipping his
head slightly. “But enough about me. How are you, my dear children? How are all your friends?”

“They are fine,” Estela growls. “All very well. No thanks to you.”

He smiles, a knowing, unsettling smirk, and his eyes shift from Estela to me and back again. He
pins his gaze on my sister. She sets her jaw, glaring back at him with the cold defiance of a
warrior facing interrogation by a sadistic enemy. I shiver slightly, knowing that with her past it
is all too likely she lived that exact scenario before. I realize that I've gone rigid in my seat.
There is a contest of wills about to take place here. The fencer in me can practically see them
taking up their guard positions, my father in posta di fenestra, my sister in posta di donna.

“I see that you found my...present.” He leans forward slightly. “...How is our dear Ms. Chandler?”

Estela's expression wavers just for an instant, and I suppress a grimace. This is what I was
afraid of. He means to trick her into giving away something, just as she means to do to him.
Honestly, I am not sure who will win here. I don't feel perfectly safe betting for or against either
of them. A hydra against a dragon. One a megalomaniacal master of manipulation, the other a
warrior with a will of iron.

“She is home,” Estela answers coldly. “With her family.”

“How lovely. A family. Mother, father...perhaps brothers and sisters, too. No...that's not right, is
it.” He sighs mockingly. “Poor little orphan girl. Well...maybe not poor...”
Estela narrows her eyes. “And what do you know of it? You took her from her family for five
years. We thought she was dead. We mourned her.”

“No, you didn't. You thought she was gone. You knew she wasn't dead.”

“We assumed you had killed her,” I counter.

“Kill a specimen as unique as she? Of course not!”

“You don't know the first thing about her!” Estela snarls.

“I know what she is.”

“You don't know her any more than you know your own children. Not even the one you crafted
so carefully. When are you going to wake up and realize where you are, Rourke? You're rotting
in a criminal asylum while the son you rejected is running your empire alongside the daughter
you never knew you had! He has your throne, your kingdom...he even has a loving partner.”
Estela's eyes narrow. “...You couldn't even keep my mother in love with you.”

I feel my eyes widen as Estela's blow visibly lands. Genuine hurt flashes across my father's face
before anger rushes in to take its place.

“...Olivia came back to me,” he growls.

“To support me. Your daughter. ...She never even told you about me, did she. You didn't figure it
out until after I was already there. Even after your wife was gone, my mother didn't want you in
my life.”

I turn away, covering a smile with my hand. Estela may be hitting below the belt, but I can't
help but enjoy it. I should not have underestimated her. Given the color of my father's face right
now, she may actually be winning. But then he shakes his head, and a placid smile settles back
onto his face. He turns his gaze onto me.

“...Aleister, my boy. ...How is my grandson?”

I stiffen, feeling the breath rush from my body. “He is...well.”

“It is quite a legacy he was born into. ...The heir to two international industrial empires. One of
the few things you did right in your life, wedding and bedding Grace Hall. In the old days of
kings and queens, treaties would be built on a union like yours.”

“I love her!”

“An added bonus for you, of course. You're like Victoria and Albert. But without the incest. Tell
me, does the boy ever get to see his maternal grandmother?”

“That's hardly any business of yours, Father.”

“I think we've overstayed our welcome,” Estela says flatly. “I'm ready to go. How about you,
Aleister?”

“...Yes. Yes, I quite agree.”

We go through the motions of a goodbye, and make sure we collect his hairbrush-phone from
the warden. We're silent on the way to the car. It's not until we're on the road that Estela
breaks the silence.

“So. What did we actually learn?”

I am quiet for a moment, considering. “...One thing is for certain, he doesn't think everything is
lost.”

She nods. “You're right. We've seen him despairing. He still thinks he can succeed in his goal.
Whatever that goal really is.”

I sigh, rubbing my chin absently. “...What if Lila wasn't his only contact on the outside?”

She frowns. “Who else do you think he could control like he controls her?”

“...I don't know. It's just...I have a very bad feeling that he still has more influence than we
know.”

Tahira

Grayson never believed I was dead. He never let anyone at Prescott Industries believe I was,
either. In the aftermath of the battle, he was vocal in his belief that I was among the missing,
but I was surely alive. There were quite a few people unaccounted for, but all the bodies they
found were identified fairly quickly, so it seemed plausible. Once he learned for sure that I was
alive, the official story around Prescott Industries was that I had been severely injured, and I
was taking an extended leave of absence to recover. He builds up my return for a few days, and
I practice limping around Mom's apartment with the aid of a cane until I've perfected the just-
barely-limping limp. When I get back to work, I'm greeted with warm welcomes, a few
questions about how I'm feeling, but no one seems suspicious. Mostly, they're just relieved that
I'm okay. Even Marjorie gives me an awkward hug and then pretends it never happened. And I
pretend the gesture didn't make me teary-eyed.

I'm only back at work for a few days before Halloween weekend is upon us. I volunteered to
help serve drinks at The Grand all weekend. Without any time to put a real costume together, I
decide to go with the wench costume I wore to the Rennaissance Faire a couple years ago. It's
about as authentic as such a costume can be. I tuck the linen shirt into the green brocade skirt,
and pull on the brown overskirt. My mother is helping me lace up the corset when my phone
buzzes with a text from Grayson, letting me know he's downstairs. Mom grins when she sees
the text over my shoulder.

“You be careful with that boy, sweetie,” she teases. “It's always a risk to date your boss.”

I snort. “Come on, Mom. I've known Grayson since college. He was my friend before he was my
boss.”

She kisses my cheek. “I trust you, baby. Have fun tonight. I know you're supposed to be
working, but have fun, too.”

“I will. You gonna be okay alone for the evening?”

“Of course. I'll be passing out candy to all the tiny monsters in this building. And if one of them
attacks me, my daughter's Dragonness, and I know how to reach her.” She hands me my
backpack. “Supersuit's in here, keep your phone in there, too, and keep it near you all night.
Understand?”

I grin. “Yes, Mom. Thank you.” I kiss her cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby girl.”

***

I have to laugh when I get downstairs and find Grayson standing outside the limo. He's dressed
in an elegant pirate captain costume, complete with a velvet coat, tricorn hat, and a plastic
cutlass. He grins when he sees me.

“Your mom told me what you were going as. I thought I'd make an effort to match.”

“Right. So, tonight I'm the plucky barmaid, and you're the handsome pirate who strolls into my
seaside tavern looking for a tankard of ale.”

He laughs. “Roleplay. I like it. But alas, work awaits us. Shall we?”

He opens the door for me, and we slip into the car. As the partition rises between us and the
driver, the limo glides away from the curb.

“Hey...how's your dad?”

His expression falls. “Mostly recovered. He'll be discharged soon. And then he goes under house
arrest...”

I see his hand curl into a fist on his thigh. I reach over to cover his hand with mine.

“I'm sorry...I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“No, it's okay. You have a right to know.” He sighs. “Especially in light of everything Aleister and
Estela told us about Rourke trying to contact him.”

I frown. “Has he...mentioned anything about that?”

“Nothing. And I can't get it out of him, either. I...honestly can't get very much out of him on any
subject.”

“...I'm sorry, Grayson.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “It isn't your fault. I just...want to enjoy myself this evening,
spending time with the woman I love, basking in one of my greatest achievements.”

“So far.”

“What?”

I smile, slipping my arm through his. “One of your greatest achievements so far. With many
more to come, I'm sure.”

***

The Grand is already getting busy by the time we arrive. Costumed patrons form a less-than-
orderly line outside the door, where Kenji checks ID's, dressed as Indiana Jones.

“Are you acting bouncer this evening?” I call as Grayson and I head toward the staff entrance. “I
thought Craig Hsiao was going to lend a hand?”

“Yeah, but he's coming with Zahra, and they won't be here for a couple hours. You two go on in,
though. I got this covered.”

“I'll come lend a hand as soon as Tahira's set up behind the bar,” Grayson promises.

True to his word, Grayson makes sure I'm settled behind the bar before stepping out to help
Kenji check ID's. I tuck the backpack with my phone and supersuit under the bar and pull on an
apron. I've got help this evening, thankfully. Skyler, the guy Poppy dated for all of five minutes,
is serving with me tonight. There's also a muscular blonde woman who looks to be in her late
forties named Jenny, dressed in skinny jeans and a black tank top that shows off the exquisite
sleeve tattoos that cover her shapely arms. For the next few hours, I get swept up in my work,
taking orders, serving drinks, collecting tips. Zahra's band arrives and starts setting up, which
seems to take awhile. It's while this is going on that I notice the patron in the Guy Fawkes mask
at the end of the bar. The mask seems to be a half-hearted attempt at coming in costume, since
besides that, he's dressed in ripped jeans and a gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over
his head. Something in his manner sets off alarm bells. I check that my bag is in my line of sight
and sidle down the bar toward him.

“Can I get you something, Fawkes?” I ask. “You got a week before you're supposed to blow up
Parliment, want a drink in the meantime?”

“I'm also on the wrong continent,” Fawkes replies. “I'll take a beer, though. Whatever's on tap.”

His voice sets off a shiver of recognition, but I can't quite place it yet. I list his options, and he
makes his choice. I fill a frosted mug and set it in front of him.

“That's six dollars.” He pulls a small wad of cash from the pocket of his hoodie and peels off a
five and three ones.
“Keep the change for yourself, hero.” He wraps his fingers around the handle of the mug and
pulls it toward him. “For the record, I wouldn't need gunpowder to take down a government.”

Even before he lifts his mask to take a gulp of his beer, I realize who I'm talking to. I lower my
voice to a whisper.

“Caleb?! What the hell are you doing here?! I thought you'd left the city?”

“I did. And I'm not back in town for long. I'm just here to warn you.”

“Warn me of what?”

The guitarist on stage strums a loud chord that blasts out from the speakers and reverberates
through the club, making me jump. Caleb glances at the stage, then jerks his head toward the
door.

“Sounds like they're about to start, and I don't want to shout. You got a minute?”

I hesitate just a moment before grabbing my backpack and slipping out from behind the bar.
Caleb gulps the rest of his beer and pulls down his mask, sliding off the stool. Outside, in the
shadow of an alley beside the club, he lifts it up again. I look sidelong at him.

“You know, I'm not sure whether I should be surprised at your attire or not. On the one hand, a
Guy Fawkes mask is...frankly predictable. On the other hand, that you would wear a costume on
Halloween at all is honestly surprising.”

He scowls a little. “It's not a costume, it's just a mask. And I'm not really looking to be
recognized.”

“So...what do I need to be warned about?”

“...Talos or Minuet mention to you where I've been since you vanished?”

“Vaguely. They said you were out in the sticks, running with some squatter gang.”

He snorts. “They're more than that. Started out as a bunch of strays and runaways, sure. Then
Gigi got ahold of them.”

“And who's Gigi?”

“That's the question for the ages. What I know is she's a sadistic psychobitch who knows how
to keep her gang scared and loyal. Some people got the natural talent for that. I didn't question
it until I realized that something about her reminded me of Stonewall.”

“...Is she a superhuman, too?”

“Not as far as I know. She might be, though. She's never been exposed to the crystal, that much I
know for sure, because she's said as much. What I was realizing lately is that she moves and
thinks and acts like someone who's got...training. Kinda training Stonewall had.”

I almost ask what he means, but then I go quiet as a memory creeps into my brain. The morning
of the gala that changed my life forever, I came into work and spoke to Santiago about the
recent string of burglaries. The thieves, he said, probably had military training.

“...Military?”

He nods. “She's been talking a lot about the Prism Crystal lately. She always knew I'd been
exposed and I'd gotten power from it, but it's only in the last couple weeks that she's really
been interested in asking questions and getting answers. ...She let slip that she'd seen
something like the Prism Crystal before.”

My blood sizzles a warning that I can't place yet. “Yeah...? Where?”

“In the Caribbean, five or six years ago. ...Talked about a jewel there called the Island's Heart.”

Chapter 29: Forging Alliances

Summary:
In the light of new revelations, important decisions will be made.
Chapter Text

Tahira
I try not to let on that the name means anything to me. I don't know if I succeed.

“The Island's Heart? And it's...something like the Prism Crystal?”

“Not much like it, Gigi says. It's bigger. A lot more powerful. The Prism Crystal's a toy by
comparison.”

I fold my arms. “And she's seen this...jewel?”

“She was on the island of La Huerta when all that shit with Everett Rourke and those missing
students was going down.”

“...La Huerta?”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Don't play dumb, hero. I was right behind you watching that old security
feed in Prescott's compound. Did you think I wasn't paying attention?”

“...Kinda,” I admit.
He smirks. “I'm not as dumb as I sometimes pretend.”

I sigh. “Okay. So we both know the Prism Crystal comes from the island of La Huerta. But what
does this Island's Heart gem have to do with it, do you think? You said you'd come to warn me
of something.”

“Listen...Gigi never made much of herself in the military. She's ranted a few times about how
she was just a nameless mook, known only by a number, they never appreciated her talents,
blah, blah, blah. I figured she mostly runs a gang so she can have the fun of being the boss, and
that she recruited me because she thought having the Man on Fire on her side would be useful.
I didn't put much stock in her ramblings about the Island's Heart and time loops and stuff
because...why worry about a magic rock on a private island when the guy who used to own the
island is in prison? But around the time you reappeared...well, one night Gigi was blind stinking
drunk, which doesn't happen often. I heard her saying that the Island's Heart had the power to
bring the dead back to life. That she knew it did, because she had drowned in the Caribbean.”

I try to convert my sharp intake of breath to a sigh. “And...did you believe her?”

“...I don't know. But thanks to another rock from that island, I can set my skin on fire with a
thought and never get burned. I know a guy who can turn himself to stone, another who can
turn himself to bronze, a chick who can slow down time, and another who can fly and lift a car
with one hand. ...I'm not discounting the possibility. Anyway, even if she didn't actually drown,
she's convinced she did. And that she knows who did it.”

“...Who?”

“Taylor Chandler. The once-missing eleventh student from Rourke International's famous
fieldtrip of doom. Told a whole fucking story about their battleship coming under attack by a
pirate ship, and Taylor Chandler coming at her with a cutlass, tripping her into the ocean.” He
sighs. “Look, maybe it's all bullshit. She talked about a literal sea monster that spits lightning,
too. ...But Silas Prescott shot himself up with liquid prism, and ended up in the hospital. Everett
Rourke is in prison for kidnapping and trying to kill a bunch of kids. I'm starting to think that if
Gigi's actually insane, it might be a contagious kind of insanity. And La Huerta's at the center of
all of it. ...Meanwhile, there's the lot of us who happened to get some crazy powers out of
exposure to the Prism Crystal...”

“...Caleb...are you worried about...us? About superhumans in general?”

He's quiet for a moment. “...How much do we actually know about what we are? Why we got
these powers and not the guy next to us?”

It's my turn to be quiet. I stare at him in silence for a long while. Of course, I know quite a bit
now. So do Kenji and Eva. But...do I dare tell Caleb? He only agreed to help me for the chance to
take down Silas Prescott. Before that, he nearly killed Kenji and his mother, not to mention the
child whose apartment he inadvertently burned down when he attacked the DMV. One the
other hand...I trust Eva, and she was a thief. But she was a thief because she needed money to
pay her father's medical bills. Caleb is an anarchist in his twenties, standing in front of me with
a damned Guy Fawkes mask pushed on top of his head. He's scared. He's scared of what might
be happening to him since he was exposed to the Prism Crystal. ...But is that reason enough to
trust him with the truth? The truth of my cousin and her friends? Would I trust Stonewall with
her?

“Caleb, why did you take off after I disappeared?”

He shrugs. “Figured Talos would probably try to kill me if you weren't there to hold him in
check, and Minuet probably wouldn't care enough to stop him. Didn't feel like dealing with that
hassle.”

“So you went back to a life of crime?”

He shrugs. “It's kinda what I'm about, sweetheart.”

“Don't call me sweetheart!” I snap.

“Okay! Sorry! Jesus...” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Whaddya want me to say?”

I let out a slow breath. “...I don't know, Caleb. Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised that you
took off. But, I guess a part of me was.”

“...Kinda naive,” he mutters.

“Yeah. Kinda.” I fold my arms, suddenly feeling the chill of the late October night. “...I know
more about what we are than I did before I disappeared. But I don't want to talk about it here.
...Meet me at the clocktower on Halloween night. Around 11pm.”

“That's like, three days from now.”

“Yeah, well, I'm working The Grand all weekend.”

“Why not Monday? Why wait until Tuesday?”

“Call it a hidden flair for the dramatic,” I reply flatly. “Now I kinda gotta get back to work.
...Thank you, by the way. For thinking to warn me.”

He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking down at the pavement. “Yeah, well...” He trails off.
Then he looks back at me. “You oughta get back to it.”

“You're right. I should.”

I turn away and slip out of the alley, heading back toward The Grand, where I can hear that
Zahra's band has started their set.
“Tahira!” I look up to see Craig waving at me. “There you are! Grayson was looking for you.”

“Sorry, I was talking with an old...acquaintance.” I can feel that my expression is grim, and Craig
clearly picks up on it, too. “...Everything okay?”

“I don't know. But I just got some news that I think you should know about.”

Jake

“...Are you sure...?”

“It's what Tahira told me. She was hearing it from another guy, but...I don't think she's gonna lie
about a thing like this.”
“Who else knows?”
“I told Z. She thought we should tell you first.”
“...I appreciate it. ...The others should know, too. But Taylor...and Mike...they should hear it from
me.”
Craig is quiet for a moment. “...You okay, man?”
“Just thinkin' of the implications,” I reply softly. “Some arachnid mook got ressurected along
with Mike, Lundgren, Lila, Olivia...who knows how many more of Lundgren's army are running
around out there...?”
“...Shit...”

“Yeah, that's about right. ...Hey, I'm gonna let you go. Taylor'll be home any minute.”

“Yeah...hang in there, man. We may be on the east coast, but we got your back.”

In spite of myself, I grin. “Thanks, Drax.”

We say our goodbyes and hang up. I set my phone down on the kitchen table, and sit staring at
it for a long time. It's midmorning. I was lying when I said Taylor would be home any minute.
She's gone shopping for maternity clothes with her aunt, and probably won't be back for a few
hours. Diego's at a meeting with his publisher that'll probably last all day. Mike is still staying
with us for now, but because he's a stand-up bastard who thinks he's gotta earn his fucking
keep here like he isn't my goddamn brother, he's out running our errands, taking Taylor's car
for a tire rotation or whatever the fuck her car needed. What it boils down to is that none of the
people I need to be here right now are here right now. Varyyn's upstairs, but I can't tell him this
until I've told someone else. Until I've told one of those three.

I prop my elbows up on the table and let my head fall into my hands, pulling my hair back until
it hurts. I tell myself I am not gonna drink. I'm not gonna be drunk when one of them gets
home. ...But I don't think I can keep from crying.
I'm not blubbering, or in floods of tears. I'm just kinda shuddering and breathing hard and
sometimes kinda coughing while tears make a film over my eyes until I blink them back. It's not
actually enough to make me feel like I'm getting rid of this hot vise around my throat.

“Woah!” Mike's voice makes me jump. I didn't even hear the door open.

“Jesus God,” I croak, rubbing my hands over my face. Mike rushes over to pull up a seat beside
me and put an arm over my shoulders.

“Jake, what's wrong? Are you okay?”

“...No. No, Mike, I'm not okay.” I pour it all out on him. Everything Craig told me about
Tahira's...friend, associate...whatever he is. About the former Arachnid mook who died at
Taylor's hands on the island, only to be brought back to life when her tormented soul begged
Vaanu to restore everyone we had lost. By the end of it, I'm properly sobbing in my brother's
arms. He grips me hard enough to hurt, fingers digging into the flesh of my back.

“...Shit...oh, fuck...”

“Yeah, that about sums it up,” I agree bitterly. “Can't believe I thought for a minute this shit
might be over...that I might actually be able to focus on living with my wife and getting ready
for my kid...now I gotta worry about some psycho Arachnid bitch who knows her face...and that
might not be the only mook who came back after Vaanu left...”

I feel Mike shudder. “...Jake...do you think...?”

“...What...?”

“...You think Jeanine might be alive?”

I pull back, scrubbing at my eyes. “I was tryin' not to think about that.”

“Sorry.”

“No. You're right. It's possible. It's actually looking pretty damned likely. Jeanine...that idiot
Tetra...” I choke on a fresh sob. “...This was supposed to be over. Arachnid was supposed to be
over. Lundgren's locked up, our names are cleared...Fuck, Mike, why ain't it over?!”

“...Jake...” He trails off. He doesn't say anything else for a long time. Long enough that I start to
hear something in his silence.

“...What is it?”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn't. ...There's no way to say it that won't come out wrong.”
I groan. I know him well enough to guess, at least the gist of it. “Damn straight you shouldn't
say it!” I growl. “It ain't her fault. It may have been her power, but it ain't her fault! And to have
her back...fuck, to have you back, I'll fucking take Lundgren, Jeanine, Tetra...as many Arachnid
bastards as they wanna throw at us!”

“...I know, buddy. I know. And as much as my history might suggest otherwise, I don't actually
have a martyr complex. I'd rather be alive and facing this than dead. ...But it scares the shit out
of me.”

“...Yeah. ...Me too. …But she has to know we don't blame her. She has to know I'll protect her.”

“Ahh, Grandpa. I promise you she knows that.”

I can't answer him. I thought I was cried out, but the tears come again. I put my head down in
my hands and weep like a little boy with a monster under his bed. I've calmed down
considerably by the time Taylor comes home, laden with shopping bags, but she clearly figures
out something's wrong almost immediately. Her expression crumples the moment she walks
into the kitchen and sees my face.

“Jake!” She drops her bags, hurrying toward me, but I've already stood and closed the distance
between us, taking her face in my hands. “What's wrong?”

I don't answer immediately. I let my thumbs run over the bony ridges under her eyes, studying
her face. ...God, our kid is gonna have the bluest eyes... Hers are the color of the ocean when the
sun hits the water just right. I could drown in those eyes of hers, windows into her ancient soul.
I'm hers. As long as there's breath in my body, I'm hers. And I'll give my last breath to protect
her if that's what it comes to. The world is better for having her in it. And if I can be worthy of
her, be the best possible partner to her as long as we're both here, and keep her in the world
for as long as humanly possible...then maybe I can make up for the failures in my past.

I lean in and kiss her forehead. I draw her into my arms, cradle her head on my shoulder.

“We should sit down, Princess,” I murmur. “We need to talk.”

Kenji

“You don't have to come.”

“Yes, Tahira. We do. You're not doing this alone.”

Tahira, decked out as Dragonness, sighs. Behind her mask, her eyes betray mild irritation. She
looks between me and Eva, both of us already in disguise.
“Look, I can handle it.”

“You're not fireproof,” I insist. “I am.”

“He's not going to hurt me! He's just looking for answers!”

“You see, that's what I am worried about,” Eva chimes in. “Are you really going to trust him
with your cousin? I can't see the Catalysts thanking us for that.”

“I don't intend to tell him everything, no. Not yet, anyway.” She smiles slightly. “In fact, I intend
to take a page from the Catalysts' book. I'm going to make him earn our trust first.”

***

Two minutes after eleven at night, I pace the floor of our clocktower headquarters, grumbling
under my breath. I still don't like this. I don't like Tahira's plan. I don't want anything to do with
Caleb. He's a hot-headed anarchist and a pyromaniac to boot. He's a worse fit for our little band
of heroes than Eva was at the beginning. At least she had noble intentions and never tried to kill
anyone. ...Well...she did try to kill Mayhew, but Tahira talked her out of it. And that was out of a
desire for revenge against one man who had hurt her father. Caleb's just an overgrown child
causing chaos just to prove he can.

...But dammit, Tahira is so hard to argue with...

“Well, well, well. The gang's all here.” Caleb's voice breaks into my thoughts, and to my
annoyance, I startle. I whirl to glare at the figure who has materialized on the balcony.

“Jesus! Fuck you, Caleb!”

Caleb laughs. “A little jumpy there, hero. Good thing the reporters aren't around.”

I open my mouth to retort, but Tahira puts a hand on my arm. “That's quite enough,” she says
firmly. “I'm not having you two getting into it now. That's not why we're here.”

Caleb saunters in off the balcony, brushing his irritatingly long bangs out of his eyes. “Why
exactly are we here?”

Tahira releases me, turning her attention on Caleb. “...I told you that I have learned a few things
about the Prism Crystal. About what it does to us. And why. ...The reasons it affected us and not
the next person are...genetic. It's to do with something in our DNA.”

“...Okay...what exactly? I mean, are we human?”

Tahira shakes her head. “I'm not sure I can trust you with that answer yet.”
Caleb scowls. “Then why call me here?”

“Because I want you to have a chance to prove that we can trust you.”

“Oh, Jesus H--”

“You were affected by the Prism Crystal because of your DNA,” Tahira continues, firmly cutting
him off. “There's no reason to think that your powers are going to have any unpleasant side
effects like what happened to Silas Prescott. I don't know that I can say the same for the people
who have been taking liquid prism. ...Now, if that's all the information you need, then go on
back to your squatter gang. But if you want to know more...”

Caleb visibly hesitates. “...What do I gotta do?”

“Prove we can trust you.”

“How?”

“Well, there's the real trick. The information I'm guarding isn't just about me, or Talos, or
Minuet, or you. There are others involved who might be affected if certain information falls into
the wrong hands. ...Frankly, this information goes beyond Silas Prescott and what he did to
Northbridge. It's bigger than all of us. It's not really enough just to give you a list of chores that
aren't really going to prove anything. In order to share this information with you, I need you to
be on our side. For real.”

“So...I'm just supposed to figure out how to make you trust me?”

“In a word, yes. Prove to me that you're on our side. That you're going to work with us to
protect this city. Or go back to causing mindless chaos and prove that you're our enemy. But
you have to realize that going back to your anarchist ways is only going to imprison you.
Literally. We've got DA Katsaros on our side now. We also know where to find the only cell that
has ever held you.”

Caleb visibily shrinks at that, and I can't help but enjoy it. Then he scowls.

“So, what, you're part of the system now? Licking the DA's boots and doing her dirty work? Is
that supposed to make me respect you? At least when you were a vigilante you were worthy of
a little respect.”

I feel my temper flare. Caleb has just insulted Tahira and my mother in one breath. “You watch
your mouth, you slimy little--”

“Talos!” Tahira's voice is sharp as a knife. “Enough!”

Eva sighs, flopping down on the couch and lacing her fingers behind her head. “You know,
Caleb, if you gave Dragonness half a chance, you might find she's actually pretty damn willing to
fight corruption. If, in fact, fighting corruption is actually your goal.”

“...Excuse me?”

Eva smirks slightly as she meets Caleb's eyes. “Advocating anarchy might have made you an
interesting person when you were a teenager, but you're...what, twenty-five now? Twenty-six?
If you haven't realized by now that true anarchy is just an invitation for the strong to subjugate
the weak all over again, you aren't as smart as you think you are.”

Caleb's jaw tightens. “You don't understand!”

“Minuet probably understands better than I do,” Tahira says flatly. “You want to tell me I don't
understand, I won't argue. Because I don't. I don't understand what motivates you. I don't
understand why you would rather cause chaos and hurt people than do some good in the world
while you're here. ...But that's neither here nor there at the moment. You have my offer. I'll be
watching you, Caleb.”

Caleb, understanding that he's been dismissed, makes for the door. As soon as she's sure he's
clear, Eva grins.

“Damn, hero. Color me impressed. That was actually very well-handled.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You gave him enough without giving away too much. And I think that however this plays
out, we're gonna know better where the Man on Fire stands.”

“That's what I hope,” Tahira agrees. “...And I hope that he stands on the right side.”

“I still think this is a waste of our time!” I snap. “The man's a psychopath, and he's gonna turn
on us the moment we show the slightest weakness.”

The two women exchange glances.

“Look, Kenji,” Eva says gently, “neither of us are gonna blame you for resisting or being
skeptical.”

Tahira takes me gently by the shoulders, looking me in the eye. “I promise you, Kenji. Caleb gets
nothing else until you trust him.”

“...Really?”
“Really. You're gonna take longer than either me or Eva, so you're officially going to be our
yardstick. You get to decide when he gets something new.”

I nod, feeling somewhat mollified. “...Okay.”

Still, as I watch Caleb make his way down the street from the balcony above, I feel uncertainty
grip me anew. I mutter something about needing to get up early, and take off down the stairs. I
catch up to Caleb without too much trouble.

“Hey!”

He stops, turning back to look at me, rolling his eyes and sighing. “What do you want,Talos?”

I fold my arms. “To know what you're planning.”

“Planning? At the moment, I'm planning to find something to eat and a place to crash. And
maybe while I'm stuffing my face and trying to fall asleep, I can puzzle out whether getting any
more information is worth going to the trouble of earning Dragonness' trust.”

“It's not her trust you're going to have to earn. It's mine.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Is that what she told you?”

“In fact, it is.”

“Huh. Well, I'm guessing that's going to make my job a lot harder.”

“You put a flaming sword in my gut after attacking DA Katsaros. Yeah, I'd say you're going to
have a hell of a time earning my trust.”

“That sword was meant for Dragonness.”

I grit my teeth against a hot swell of anger. “That doesn't exactly help your case.”

“You didn't have to interfere. I have to wonder why you even cared. The old bitch had made her
position on supers pretty damned clear, thought I'd be doing us all a favor taking out that--”

I don't wait to hear what he's going to call her next. I grab him by the front of his shirt and
swing him around, slamming him against the nearest wall.

“If you know what's good for you, you'll stop talking,” I growl. Genuine surprise registers on his
face for a moment. Then he smirks.

“I think I struck a nerve. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was personal.” I bring up my
forearm and press it against his throat. His breath shudders for a moment, but the smile doesn't
leave his face. “She your girlfriend or something? You don't look old enough for her, but maybe
the bronze hides your age. Or hell, maybe you're just into the whole May-December thing. No
judgment, pal. You're both adults.”

I take a moment to rein in my temper before I speak again. “Doesn't really matter, does it. The
real point is that if DA Katsaros, Dragonness, or Minuet get so much as a burnt finger from you,
all bets are off. You will have nowhere to hide.”

Caleb's lip curls into a sneer. “Hide from what exactly? You think you're intimidating me?”

“I just want to make sure we're clear.”

Caleb looks at me for a long moment. Finally, he nods. “Yeah. We're clear. Now do you mind
letting me get on with my night?” I slowly release him, stepping back. He adjusts his clothes and
flips his bangs out of his eyes. “Thank you. By the way, Happy Halloween. One night a year you
can go out with that literal bronze body without looking like a total idiot.”

“This from the dumbass who thought he was being clever turning up to The Grand in a Guy
Fawkes mask.”

He doesn't retort. He shoves his hands in his pockets and marches off down the sidewalk. I
watch him go, feeling more unsettled than ever.

Estela
In the office of Rourke International's Northbridge location, I press into the corner and fold my
arms, trying not to let my impatience show while Dax and Zahra lean over the hairbrush-phone,
a set of tools in front of them. They chat casually as they fiddle with the device, discussing what
seems like everything from supersuits to La Huerta.

“So, how exactly do you keep the island safe from prying eyes?”

“Well, that's simple,” Zahra replies. “Rigged up a digital security system around the perimeter
to catch boats, and a radar system to detect aircrafts. There's also a communications system set
up in case the Vaanti need to contact us or vice versa. The radar and the comm system also help
us warn them of tropical storms and hurricanes, now that they don't have the time bubble
protecting them anymore. But in five years, there haven't actually been any problems.”

“I still can't get my head around it. Since the 1920's, no one has discovered the Vaanti outside of
Rourke and his people? All those thousands upon thousands of guests coming in and out of The
Celestial for almost thirty years...?”

“Some mysteries of La Huerta remain unexplained,” Zahra replies, shrugging. “I put most of it
down to the Endless.”
I can't help myself any longer. I clear my throat. “Um...guys? What about the phone?”

Zahra sighs, sitting back and blotting a light sweat off her forehead. A long scar is still visible
from the wound she sustained in the big battle a few months ago.

“I don't know, Estela. It looks like a cell phone, but the technology is from somewhere around
the year 2000. Like, as basic as basic can get. What else do you want me to tell you?”

It's my turn to sigh. “I don't know. Is there any way to know if this is the same one he was
calling Lila from? What if he still has another one that she didn't know about? Or another one
that she did know about, and we're being fools to trust her?”

“I think we can trust that this is the only one she was aware of,” Aleister says gently, looking up
from the magazine he's been flipping through. He closes it and stands, wandering over to the
desk. “Lila is clever in her way, but subterfuge isn't her strong suit. All the evidence suggests
she wantsto break his hold over her, and that would be a lot harder to do if she hid a second
communication device.”

“Wanting to break his hold over her doesn't mean she's not going to falter when it comes to it,”
I point out.

“True. To err is human. Still, consider our father's manner and bearing when we spoke to him.
There was no panic. No anger. Just annoyance. He is far too clever to put all his eggs in one
unstable, abused basket. ...I still say he must have had someone besides Lila he was in contact
with.”

“But who? Besides Lila, who would have actually reached out to him when he had nothing and
willingly place anything in his hand that could make him stronger?”

“I don't know. Perhaps it wasn't anyone who reached out to him. ...Perhaps he reached out to
someone instead. Someone he had some leverage over.”

“...Figuring out who that could be would take some research.”

Zahra leans back in her chair, stretching. “I could probably go digging, see what I can come up
with.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Aleister agrees. “And my appreciation would be reflected in
your paycheck.”

Zahra grins. “I will never say no to a bonus, boss. But for the record, I'd be doing it because I'm
a Catalyst, same as you. I know what we're up against, and I am not willing to let your old man
have his way.”

“Of course. But as your boss, I can't let you do extra work for free.”
“Plus, you know if you did, I'd find a way to make you pay.”

I snort a little, pushing myself off the wall. “I look forward to hearing what you find out. ...In the
meantime, though, I should be getting home. There's something else I need to take care of.”

***

In my mother's apartment, I sit on the sofa with my computer open on the coffee table in front
of me. My mother sits in an armchair off to one side. Quinn sits at my feet, her legs folded to the
side. I look down at her and smile weakly.

“...Thank you for being here. I appreciate the moral support.”

She smiles back, reaching up to take my hand. “You can do this, Estela. I'm right here.” She
squeezes my hand, and I grip back, exhaling slowly. I can do this. I click an icon and begin a
Skype call. After a moment, my tio's face fills the screen. Quite literally. It's enough to pull a
genuine laugh from me.

“Sit back, Tio! There's no need to lean in so close!”

“Well, how am I supposed to...” He trails off, frowning as he seems to notice the window with
his own face in the corner of his screen. “I cannot believe you talked me into this. Are we being
recorded?”

“We're not being recorded, Tio. I promise. ...I told you that I needed to speak to you by video
because what I have to say cannot be put into a letter, or spoken over a regular phone.”

“Yes...yes, you did say that. ...Is everything all right?”

“I...don't know that everything is all right. I do have some good news. But...it is going to come as
a shock. I...promise to explain as much as I can.” I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly.
“...Tio...Mom is alive.”

Silas Prescott

I am a prisoner in my own home. Under house arrest, with my ankle in the modern equivalent
of the ball and chain and everything. It has only been a few days, but I am already starting to
hate everything about this place, filled with every comfort and luxury, but empty as a tomb
without my Helena...without our child. Oh, he has visited daily, but I can hardly bear to look at
him. I can't bear the shame, knowing I failed him. That I failed to bring his mother back to him.
All that has kept me going for two decades, and now the hope is gone.
...Or it would be, but for the note. The note with Everett Rourke's personal sigil, and the odd
doodle we invented as schoolboys when we wanted to pass secret notes to each other in
invisible ink. It was part of a game we played, that we were international spies in disguise. We
planted clues for each other in order to solve what we imagined was some great global
conspiracy. He has a message for me now. How he got it to me from prison, I am not certain. I
was rather too sedated most of the time to have much idea of my surroundings. But it was
unmistakably him.
The question is...do I dare? Do I dare reopen that wound? When everything has been lost, do I
dare subject myself to that?
My situation can easily get worse. And it probably will. The only reason I am allowed to be
under house arrest and not in prison is that my doctors are still uncertain what ill effects I may
have suffered from the liquid prism. They have nurses to monitor me. I hate the nurses.
Once they are satisfied that I am healthy, I won't have another chance to act on this last
glimmer of hope. Between the nurse's shifts, I make the decision to heat the page, and a phone
number is revealed. Before I can change my mind, I call it. And after a few rings, I hear a voice
come down the line.
“Everett Rourke speaking.”
It is almost like hearing a ghost. Except that he never died. I only evicted him from my life.
From my affections and my kind thoughts. But I am too worn out to immediately feel the rush
of hatred I was expecting. In fact, just at this moment, I don't feel anything.
“Everett. It's Silas.”
I can almost hear the smile in his voice when he answers. “Silas, my old friend. How are you?”
“I am under house arrest. How would you be?”
“I cannot say. At the moment, I am envious. My children abandoned me in a psychiatric hospital.
You would not believe what kind of crude device I am speaking to you on. ...But that's hardly
relevant. What is relevant is that you clearly got my note. Tell me, are you serious about bringing
Helena back?”
Ahh, there it is. There's the white-hot swell of anger and hate that makes me want to tear him
apart with my bare hands.
“If it weren't for you, I wouldn't need to bring her back!” I growl. “I would still have her!”
There is a moment of silence on his end. “...You know that was an accident, Silas. I never intended
for anyone to get hurt. Least of all Helena.”
“But she did get hurt. Remorse won't change that.”
“But I can help you. I have the means to restore her to you. Or...I used to. I had the power to undo it
all within my grasp just five years ago. I thought that power was lost, but it still exists. You proved
to me that it still exists with your remarkable machine, made from one of the crystals of my island.
I thought they were all lost five years ago. But you have one. And you have done things with it that
I never realized were possible. But on your own, you were never going to be able to restore Helena.
Not on your own, and not with Dragonness. You've done remarkable work, but your knowledge is
limited. Work with me, Silas. Together, not only can we both achieve our goals, but I believe we
may be able to reach heights neither of us ever imagined were possible.”
“How are we meant to achieve anything when we are both prisoners?”
“We are two of the most intelligent people on the planet right now, Silas. There are ways to work
through prison walls. I have that covered.”
I can feel my hands trembling. I tighten my grip on my phone. “...All right, Rourke. I'm in. But if
you betray me, I will find a way to destroy you.”
“That is perfectly fair. I haven't much time left to speak to you now, so let me just leave you with
this: now that you are in, you will shortly be hearing from an associate of mine, who will explain a
few things in detail. ...I assume you know the civilian identity of Dragonness. Do you have details
on her biology?”
“All that information exists, yes.”
“Good. Now, if you have anyone left in your organization who can be trusted, set them to
researching Taylor Chandler. We need every detail we can gather on her, past and current.”
I know that name, of course. Everyone knows that name. “Why? Why her?”
“Because she is the Omega Specimen. She is the key to everything.”

Chapter 30: Shadowed Voices

Summary:
Caleb plots his next move while Nicholas Montoya is reunited with his sister.
Chapter Text

Estela
I'm sure my vise-like grip is hurting Quinn's hand, but to her credit and my great relief, she
doesn't ask me to loosen it. I don't know if I could just at this moment. The silence in the living
room of my mother's apartment is deafening as she and her older brother stare at each other
through a computer screen. I tremble violently as I watch my mother's eyes start to shimmer,
until finally, she takes a shuddering breath and the tears spill over.

“...Nicholas...? Say something...”

“Livita...” My Tio's voice cracks with emotion. “...Livita, where have you been...?”
“Well...for the last five years, I have been in a fugue state in a mental hospital in Florida. Before
that is...harder to explain. But I want you to know, Nicholas, because I don't want you to believe
even for a moment that I could have left you or Estela without me by choice.”

“I could never...”

“...What I want to tell you is sensitive information, Nicholas. As sensitive as any information you
have ever dealt in. ...It was enough to get me killed once, and I would rather tell you in person.
Estela and I can be in San Trobida in about six hours.”

“Yes...Dios mio...of course...but...Livita...” Tio gulps audibly. “Livita, are you real? I...surely must
be dreaming...”

“In six hours, I will be in San Trobida with my daughter, and you will see that I am real. ...I love
you, Nicholas.”

A sob escapes him. “Livita...I love you...I love you, my sister...please come home...”

Caleb
One thing I can say for Gigi's operation is that it pays well. It's part of how she keeps her
squatters loyal. She runs her gang like the mafia, or a Golden Age pirate crew, where all the
treasure is divided equally, after dues are collected for the maintaining of the abandoned
houses where she's set up. I have enough in my pocket to hole up in a cheap motel for a couple
days and eat cheap, greasy food for a few meals. I also get a couple decent showers out of the
deal while I wrestle with Tahira's offer.

I could just walk away. She says she doesn't think I'm going to go crazy or get sick from
exposure to the Prism Crystal, which is really all that I was worried about. ...But I just keep
hearing her voice in my head saying it's bigger than Silas Prescott. It's bigger than Northbridge.
It's bigger than all of us.

Fuck me, I shouldn't care. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the rest of the world. Just myself
and my little corner of it. …But I can't deny that the whole world includes my own little corner
of it, much as I would like to pretend otherwise. Besides, I'm not lacking in curiosity.

Still...having to earn Talos' trust does give the whole deal the bitter taste of impossibility.
Maybe I should save myself the frustration and just walk away. The only thing that really stops
me is knowing that if I do, I won't have another chance. Talos and Minuet are formidable
enough on their own, but with Dragonness back on their side...well, I'm an anarchist, but I'm
not suicidal. Plus, Dragonness is just...so...fuck me, she's intriguing. As Dragonness, as
Tahira...there's something compelling about her. I don't know, but it makes me believe that she
isn't a complete tool of the system. That maybe there's hope for her or something. There's
hope with her. …Fuck me, I haven't believed in another human being in twenty years. So what
the fuck is happening to me?
I buy a burrito, a can of generic beer, and a pack of Camels in a convenience store in Bayside.
The cashier is a young, dark-haired guy who looks about sixteen, and who needs his grizzled
biker manager to ring up the beer and smokes. I wander outside and lean against the wall of
the building while I eat the burrito and guzzle the beer. I toss the empties in the trash and pull a
cigarette from the pack. I snap my fingers to summon a small flame and light it. I take a drag
and let the carcinogenic smoke fill my lungs.

The bell on the door dings as the teenage cashier slips outside, huddled up in a ratty
windbreaker that might have been lime green once. He glances over at me.

“Hey, mister? Can you spare five bucks?”

I exhale a cloud of smoke, slipping him a sidelong glance. “You're the one with a job, kid.”

He grins ruefully. “I mostly don't spend my paycheck on myself. I support four kids and a dog
on minimum wage. I just need a few bucks so I can get lunch. Otherwise, I don't eat until
dinner.”

I'd say he's laying it on thick, but the hurried, tired way he explains it makes me think he gives
this spiel a lot, and is in fact growing pretty tired of it. Still...

“Not a very convincing story, kid. Not unless you got some kind of super sperm and you
knocked up a chick with quadruplets, only to have her abandon you with the kids and the dog.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “They're not my kids, they're my brother and three cousins. Can you
spare a few bucks or not?”

I frown, taking a good look at the kid for the first time. Some kinda South Asian ancestry in him,
I think. He's kinda scrawny and scruffy, like a stray animal. That windbreaker might as well be
tissue paper in the biting early November chill. He says he isn't spending his paycheck on
himself, and it kinda looks like no one else is, either.

“ You support them? How old are you, anyway?”

His gaze suddenly gets hard. “Older than I look.”

“Yeah, but four kids...? No parents...? I mean, that's just asking for a visit from child services.” As
I look of panic crosses his face, I pull a five dollar bill out of my pocket and hold it out to him.
“Relax. I'm not looking to add you to the system. Though...If I were you, I'd be more careful who
I tell about looking after four kids.”

A blush creeps to the surface of his tawny cheeks as he snatches the money from my hand,
muttering his thanks. I watch him rush back into the store, my eyes lingering for a moment on
the empty space where he was. Then, I shake my head to dislodge the vague concern that's
creeping in on the edges of my thoughts. A bunch of kids trying to escape the foster system isn't
a priority right now. Figuring out how to get Talos to trust me is the priority. Learning about
what I am is the priority. I take a last drag on my cigarette and toss it to the ground to grind the
butt under my heel.
...Talos isn't gonna be convinced if I just round up criminals and turn them over to the DA. No
one is going to be convinced that way. ...But if I can figure out on my own what's so much
fucking bigger than all of us, maybe I can figure out a way to help the superhero squad avert the
apocolypse. And on that score, I think I know where to start.

...Everything begins with La Huerta.

Nicholas Montoya
It is nearly midnight by the time I reach the airport, where a charter flight carrying my niece
and my little sister is supposed to be landing. I am terrified. I am terrified that I was dreaming
Estela's call, my little sister's face beside her daughter. Even when I see her coming down the
steps out of the plane, I and still sure that I am going to wake up any moment and she'll be gone
again. She looks...barely altered from the last time I saw her. I have aged eleven years, and she
has barely aged a day. I approach her cautiously, as if a sudden movement might cause her to
vanish like a frightened deer. I don't speak as I place my hands on her shoulders, staring at her
face, trying to memorize every detail. Finally, she smiles.

“...I'm real, Nicholas.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I have the presence of mind to
embrace her back. That's the moment when I realize that Olivia and Estela have not come
alone. Over Olivia's shoulder, I can see that there is a red-haired young woman standing close
to Estela. Apparently noticing where my gaze has landed, Estela clears her throat.

“Tio, this is my friend, Quinn. She was on La Huerta with me.”

So much said in so few words. This young woman was on La Huerta, where I thought my sister
had died. Where for six months, I was sure my niece had died, too. Quinn was there. She was
one of Rourke's prisoners. She knows same secrets Estela knows. I pull back, looking at my
sister.

“...Let's go home. I want to know everything that you are willing to tell me.”

“And we would like for you to know everything.”

***

As the three women lay out the facts for me over coffee at our kitchen table, I realize very
quickly that “everything” is...quite a lot. Quite a lot that I have never imagined possible. Time
travel. Other dimensions. Alien beings from another world, and a conspiracy to use those aliens
to achieve untold power.

“...Taylor said that ultimately, Rourke wanted to use her power to build himself an empire,”
Estela concludes grimly. “It seems he has not entirely lost sight of that ambition.”

I am quiet for a moment, considering all I have heard.

“...I am honored that you trust me with this information.”

“Of course we trust you, Tio. Besides, you have experience with tyrants and dictators. We may
end up needing your help.”

“Right now, though, Rourke is contained,” I point out.

“I know. ...But no prison is escape-proof. And Rourke is a slippery demon.”

“I believe your caution is wise,” I agree. “But right now, perhaps what we should think about is
your mother...” I look up at my sister, “...and what she wants.”

“Right now,” Olivia replies, “What I want is to be with my family.”

Raj
With the camera crew following behind me, I stroll through Campagna Amica in Rome,
carefully choosing ingredients for an authentic Italian pasta carbonara. I talk as I go,
commenting on each ingredient, making sure I explain every choice. Lila follows well behind
the camera, watching me curiously, silent until I've paid and headed back to the car with my
supplies. When the cameras are off and we've climbed into the backseat, she looks over at me
with fascination.

“...So...is this what you do for a living now?”

I grin. “Pretty much. Travel the world, cook delicious food, meet fans...it's a pretty sweet life.”

“...And Diego is a professor, Sean is a professional football player, Michelle is a doctor, Quinn is
healthy and running a charity...”

“Yeah. We're all doing really well.” I hesitate a moment, before speaking again, but I decide to
add, “Even Jake, now that he has Taylor back. He was...kind of touch-and-go for awhile after
Lundgren's trial.”

“Raj...did he really put her in a stasis tube? Is that really where you found her? ...Or was it true
what Rourke said about her? That she's one of the crystal people? That she was part of the
Island's Heart?”

Again, I hesitate, but Lila's in this as much as any of us. And even if she turns on us, it's not like
Rourke doesn't already know what Taylor's origins are.

“It's the latter. The stasis tube was the story we told to explain her return. The long and short of
it is that she gave up her own existence to restore the world without turning it over to Rourke.
But thanks to the Prism Crystal, she was able to come back, and a past was written for her. ...We
lost five years with her, but now we've got her back for the rest of her life. And she's got a home
and a family.”

Lila is quiet for a very long time. Finally, she says, “...Once I thought Rourke could give me back
my home and my family.”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “...You lost them when you were little, right? A car accident?”

She frowns slightly. “...How did you...?”

“Taylor put together a few...puzzle pieces, so to speak. Some notes of Rourke's or something,
plus a little of her crystal alien psychicness. She only told us recently, though. There was a lot
she kept hidden on the island.”

“...Oh.” She goes quiet again for another long moment. “...I thought he could bring them back.
And...maybe he could have. ...Clearly, she couldn't. ...Even if she could bring me back, she
couldn't bring my family...”

“No...I think...she didn't have a lot of control over who she brought back, or she wouldn't have
brought back Lundgren.”

“But she came back. She came back, and now she has a past and a home and a family. ...Just what
Mr. Rourke was promising her. ...Except that he can't give me my home and my family
anymore.”

I feel something cold seeping into my veins at the way she's talking. I carefully take hold of her
hand, folding it between my palms. She glances at me with surprise, and I capture her gaze,
holding it firmly.

“Lila, don't start thinking that way. ...The past and the family she has now...they aren't some
sunny ideal. She's an orphan, too. She was adopted by an aunt and uncle who didn't really want
her, and mostly raised by a nanny. Diego was the only person who unconditionally loved her all
her life. Diego, and then the rest of us. ...She needs us, Lila, as much as we need her.”

Lila bites her lip, a guilty blush creeping into her cheeks. “...I...don't mean to sound...petty. She
deserves what she has. ...She certainly deserves her family more than I deserve mine.”

I squeeze her hand. “...Family isn't really something you deserve. Like I said, the family she was
given was hardly ideal. But the eleven of us are her family, too. ...And we can all be your family
if you let us, Lila. The whole reason you're in Rome with me right now is so that we can protect
you from someone who only wants to use you.”

“...I...you're right.” Her breath shakes as she exhales. “...Thank you, Raj. I needed to hear that.”

“Hey, no problem. Come on, we're almost at the studio. You can help me make the carbonara.”

Taylor
Jake has been clingy with me since the revelation that there is an Arachnid mook alive
somewhere on the east coast. I can't really blame him. Of course, we're all concerned by the
news, but it's different for him. I know what nightmares this has to be bringing up for him, what
memories of being hunted in Kharzistan are surely lurking at the edges of his mind. And those
are just the nightmares I didn't live through with him. I expect there are memories from La
Huerta crowding in there as well, of Lundgren intercepting us in the mountains, being pursued
by Fiddler and Tetra, Mike's dull, lifeless gaze under the influence of mind control...the fireball
that consumed him and Lundgren in one terrible moment...the moment my hand slipped on the
landing skid of the doomed chopper and sent me hurtling into the sea below...

… He's afraid for himself. Of course he is. ...But he is more afraid for me. For Mike. For our baby.
For Diego, and Varyyn, and any Catalyst who gets caught in the crossfire. All in all, it adds up to
the same thing. My husband is frightened, and there is little I can do to reassure him. For now, I
can only let him cling to me whenever possible, check in with him throughout the day, and let
him drive me to the studio and pick me up on Saturdays.

As my pregnancy advances, I have lightened my personal classload, but I can still teach if I keep
the jumping to a minimum. I'm about nineteen weeks gone. Now that my bulge is starting to
really look like a baby bump and not just some extra weight, I have opted today to start telling
my students that I am expecting. I am pleased to find that the news perks up my twelve- and
thirteen-year-old advanced ballet students, who at ten-thirty on a Saturday morning are
typically still fighting off sleep and usually don't really wake up until halfway through the barre
exercises. Once the initial excitement fades, though, they're all business.

One student does approach me as I sit on a bench just outside the studio with a bag of trail mix
after class. She hesitates a moment, but I smile and pat the bench next to me.

Her name is Divya Gupta, and she's quickly become one of my favorite students. Extremely
talented, but too friendly to make enemies for it, bright and curious. Not to mention that her
parents are just two of the kindest people I have ever met. She started at the studio as a four-
year-old shortly after I left for Hartfeld, and apparently her parents are well-known for helping
out with costumes and shows when the studio needs a few extra hands.

Divya sits down next to me, placing her bag on the ground beside the bench. Over her black
leotard and pink tights, she's pulled a pair of denim shorts and a sunset-colored sweatjacket
with the studio logo on the back. The jacket hangs open and the convertible feet of her tights
have been rolled up to her ankles to accommodate a pair of flip-flops.

“Aren't your toes cold?” I ask her. “I know we're in California, but it's still November.”

“Yeah, but we're in California,” she retorts, grinning. I chuckle.

“Fair enough. Maybe I'm just getting cold easier because of the baby.”

Divya leans over to eye my belly. “You don't look very big yet.”
“Not yet, but I will definitely get bigger.”

“...Are you married, Miss Taylor?”

“Yes, I am. Well, sort of. My husband and I got married in a ceremony overseas, but it wasn't
really official. But we still think of ourselves as married.”

“Is he the one who dropped you off this morning? I saw you get out of the car when you got
here because I got here at the same time. There was a man driving.”

I nod. “Yeah, that was Jake. He doesn't work today, so he decided to be nice and drive me.”

“That's a cool name. ...He looked cute, too, but I couldn't really see him very well.”

I grin. “He is cute. Very cute.”

“What does he do for a job?”

“He works for my uncle now, but he used to be a pilot in the navy.”

The sigh she gives is unmistakably dreamy and I can't help grinning a little. “That's soooo cool.
How did you meet?”

For a moment, I'm a little thrown by the question. People knowing my name and Jake's is
something I've just learned to get used to in the months since I've been back. The
disappearance of eleven college students was international news, as was their return six
months later with one of them missing. As was, for that matter, the trial of the two former navy
pilots who were eventually cleared of three-year-old treason charges. But I suppose the media
hasn't exactly been rigorous about keeping up with us. And at her age, I guess it isn't unlikely
that Divya wouldn't have much interest in following the news to begin with.

“He was the pilot when my friends and I took a trip to the Caribbean five years ago. He sort of
got stuck there with us.”

“In the Caribbean? That's soooo romantic...” She looks up at the clear blue sky. “...I can't wait
until I'm in high school next year. Right now I'm in eighth grade, and all the boys at my school
are my age, or they're younger. I like boys who are older than me, because they're more
mature. When I was in sixth grade, all the eighth grade boys seemed so grown up. But now that
I'm in eighth grade...”

“So are all the immature boys who were sixth graders with you?”

“Exactly,” she sighs.

“Well...eventually the boys your age will catch up to you in maturity.”

“Is Jake your age?”

“Well...no,” I admit. “He's five years older than me. But some of my best friends are guys my age,
and they're pretty mature. Well...most of them. In their own way. ...Come to think of it, maybe
guys just don't mature.”

Divya laughs, and so do I, but the truth is that I wouldn't change any of my friends for anything.
I hope Diego never stops making pop culture references. I hope Jake and Mike never stop
nicknaming. I hope Craig and Raj always find ways to startle me with their crazy ideas. I hope
Aleister is always just a little bit pompous and Sean is always just a little overprotective. As
long as they don't stop learning, or slip back into harmful patterns, I hope they never lose those
little quirks that I love about them.

Divya sits up abruptly. “Oh! I see my dad coming. I'll see you next class, Miss Taylor!”

She grabs her bag and all but skips off to meet her dad as he pulls up at the curb, waving to me
as she goes. I wave back, then gather my energy to return to the studio. I have one more class
before I can take a long break for a proper meal, and then one more class in the afternoon.

My fifteen-year-old jazz/hip-hop students don't react to my news with much more than brief
smiles. They are a dedicated group with very little time for much outside of dance. I confess
that they often exhaust me with their dedication, but a good meal restores my energy, and by
the time I get back, the four-year-old ballet students are starting to stream into the studio. At
this studio, proper class attire is demanded of even the youngest students. The girls all wear
tiny black leotards and pink tights with pink slippers of leather or canvas, and the boys come in
fitted black shorts and white tops, with white or black shoes. Most of the girls also like to dress
up their outfits with sheer ballet skirts and ribbons for their hair. When I get back to the studio,
most of the parents have just about finished getting their little ones dressed and securing long
hair off their faces. I stand at the dressing room door and clap my hands.

“Okay, is everyone all set? Come on out and let's sit in a circle in butterfly position. If you
brought a doll for the dolly dance, let mommy or daddy hold onto it for now, okay?”

Fifteen little dancers rush less-than-gracefully out onto the dance floor, plopping down in a
lopsided circle and obediently arranging their legs in a butterfly position, grasping their ankles.
They leave a space for me at the head of the circle, and I accept it.

“Okay, everyone, before we start, I have an announcement to make: I am going to have a baby.”
A chorus of excited gasps greets my news. “In the next few months, my tummy is going to get
big and round, and I'm going to be eating a lot of extra snacks to help the baby grow before it's
ready to be born. Also, after the baby is born, I will need to take some time off to rest, so Miss
Vikki will be teaching everyone for awhile. You all know who Miss Vikki is, right?”

“Yeeeees,” everyone choruses.

“Good. Miss Vikki was my ballet teacher back when I was five years old, too, and I learned
everything I know from her, so you'll all be in good hands.”

Martin Becskei puts up his hand, but doesn't wait for permission to speak before blurting out,
“Miss Taylor, my mom told me where babies come from! If you're gonna have a baby, that
means you made sex with a boy!”

Chloe Baudin gasps and swats Martin's shoulder. “Martin! That's a bad word!”

“No, it isn't! It's what happens when you're a grown up and you're in love with someone!”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. A few of the parents watching from the benches in the
back aren't holding back. Martin's mother is actively beaming, apparently oblivious to the
mortified looks from a couple of the more conservative parents in the room.

“Okay, Chloe, no hitting,” I say, my voice strained with the effort of holding back giggles.
“Martin, your mom is very smart.”

“Miss Taylor?” Megan Radcliff calls. “Is it a girl baby or a boy baby?”

“I don't know yet, Megan. Right now the baby is too small to tell, but in a few weeks, I'll go to
the doctor and have a picture taken of the baby inside me, and they should be able to tell me
then.”

“When the baby is born, will you bring it to show us?”

“Of course, Ji-hu. Once the baby is strong enough, I promise I'll bring them in so they can meet
everyone. But that's going to be a long time from now. For now, let's get started by warming up
our bodies. Everyone shake out your hands and let's warm up our little ballerinas.”

I lead them in shaking out their wrists and fingers, then hold up my hand with my palm out and
my fingers spread. In unison, we name the five ballerinas on each hand, just as I was taught
when I was five years old: the thumb is “Daddy Ballerina”; the pointer finger is “Mommy
Ballerina”; middle finger, “Skinny Ballerina”; ring finger, “Princess Ballerina”; and at the end of
the line is “Baby Ballerina”.

I lead them through the most basic warm-ups and barre exercises, never throwing enough at
them to overwhelm them. At their age, they don't need to worry about knowing the proper
French names for each step. For now, it's enough to do “tippy-toe turns” and “ballet leaps.” All
I'm worried about now is that their bodies get used to moving. Proper technique will come
later. I do lead them through the five positions for the feet and arms, though. That's basic
enough to be necessary even at their age. For the next hour, I get lost in the magic of dancing
with these children, tapping on cheap tamborines while we skip in circles, and watching them
hop over a line of old discarded ballet slippers that I keep in a box and lay out on the middle of
the floor for them. Just before the Dolly Dance, I notice Jake slipping into the studio. Quite
unexpectedly, I find myself struck hy a sudden wave of shyness; a self-consciousness that
swells in me for a moment as I instruct the students to collect the dolls and stuffed animals
they've brought as props. I manage to swallow it as I start the music.

I keep a doll from my own personal collection on hand so that I can participate; Emma, a
handmade rag doll with yellow yarn hair, wearing a blue paisley dress and a lace pinafore. I
retrieve it and try not to look over at Jake as I call out directions to my students. We all take on
the role of parents as we rock and kiss and admire our “babies.” But then we place our babies
under the barre and pretend we can't find them. We plié right and left, shifting our weight and
holding our hands over our eyes as if searching the horizon for what is right in front of us. We
pretend to cry in despair at our inability to see our babies staring patiently at us from beneath
the barre. We hop from first position to second as we weep, “Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my!” and
scrub at our eyes theatrically. Then, lo and behold, the clouds lift as suddenly we realize where
our babies are and we run to gather them in our arms. We kiss our babies. We hug our babies.
We rock them, chanting “Rock-a-bye Baby,” and gently twirling after each line. As the music
fades, I have to push past a lump in my throat as I call out to the dancers to give their babies
back to their parents and come line up in the center of the room again. It takes a little
wrangling, as usual.

“Everyone, remember our ballet manners?” I call, my voice still hoarse with suppressed
emotion. “It's time to say thank you to everyone for dancing with us and watching today!”

The class reluctantly gathers at the center of the room and settles down as I select
the révérence track, and a slow, gentle piano piece trickles out from the speakers. I lead my
students through a final port de bras, and tippy-toe turn. As I end facing them, I lead them to
bow or curtsey to me, then to turn and face their parents at the back and acknowledge them as
well. Then, on impulse, I hurry to the door and take Jake by the hand, leading him into the
room. His eyes widen slightly.

“...What are you doing?” he whispers.

I grin, turning to face my class. “Everyone, this is Miss Taylor's husband, Jake. He came to watch
the Dolly Dance, so everyone bow or curtsey to him, too.” My students do as I say, giggling a
little, and Jake applauds obligingly. I can't help chuckling. “And Mister Jake even knows his
ballet manners! Everyone, let's clap to say thank you for a good class today!”

The students clap, and I finally dismiss them. Jake turns to me, lacing his fingers together at the
small of my back, and leaning in to plant a kiss on my mouth.

“I hope it's not bad ballet manners to kiss the teacher,” he murmurs.

“Not after class,” I reply. “But we should still save it for after the kids and parents are gone.
They might have questions or something.”

“Questions about where babies come from?”

I laugh. “No, apparently, they know that already. I was talking ballet-related questions.”
“Very well then, Princess. Go see to your subjects.”

It doesn't take too long for the students and their parents to clear out. Most of them are hungry
and tired and ready to go to dinner. I'm starting to feel it myself, honestly. I'm starting to feel a
lot of things. As I close down the studio, I suddenly realize that the knot of tears in my throat
has dissolved, and I've started crying. Jake winds an arm around my shoulders, drawing me
back into his arms.

“You okay? Is something wrong, or is this a baby thing?”

I laugh weakly, clutching him and resting my head on his chest. “A baby thing, a hungry
thing...it's a thing. ...That stupid Dolly Dance got to me. Especially when I saw you watching.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's not your fault. It was just...with this kid inside me, I was dancing out a story about losing
my baby...”

“...Except the baby was right in front of you,” Jake points out. “And you found her again two
minutes later.”

“I know. I didn't say I was being rational.”

I hear him exhale a short breath of laughter, and he kisses the top of my head. “I get it. I know
I've been noticing dads and kids a lot more recently. Just today, I saw two men with their little
two-year-old daughter in the grocery store and just couldn't stop watching them. I must have
given the wrong impression because one of them finally turned to me and said very loudly,
'Yeah, we're married, and this is our daughter!'”

I giggle through my tears. “And did you tell him you were an equal-opportunity fornicator
before you were married?”

“Well, no. There was a child present. I just said I was sorry for staring, but my wife and I were
expecting our first and I was feeling dad-jitters.” He kisses the top of my head again. “We ended
up having a very pleasant conversation. Anyway, I think the almost-parent jitters have to be ten
times as bad when you've got pregnancy hormones coursing through your veins.”

I sigh a little, nuzzling his shoulder. “...Pregnancy hormones might make mine stronger than
yours, but yours are stronger than the average parent's, too. ...I think it's all going to be harder
for the two of us. ...Just think of everything you and I have gone through to even get to the point
where we're standing here together with me growing a baby inside me...”

He tightens his grip. “...I never stop thinking about it, Taylor. ...I never stop thinking about T'kal
nearly shredding you the first time we met him. Or looking down while I dangled over a cliff
and seeing you under me. Or holding you while you cried for your best friend, knowing I
couldn't say or do anything that would make it better. I remember how it much it killed me to
see you in pain. I remember being terrified that if I didn't go with him, Lundgren would try to
hurt you to get to me. ...Waking up when you cried out in your sleep because you were
watching us die and couldn't bring yourself to say anything about it. Watching you almost going
over a waterfall...watching you fall out of a chopper...finding you on the beach and realizing you
weren't breathing...watching you disappear...”

“...I never stop thinking about it, either. ...Just in that last loop alone...when we snuck into
MASADA and I saw Lundgren with your throat in his fist...Sean had to hold me back. Remind me
that I was still dressed like an Arachnid. ...Every time one of them showed up, you got hurt.
Physically or emotionally. ...You were lying in my arms, coughing blood and crying over
Mike...and I couldn't make it better anymore than you could when Diego was missing. All I
could do was hold you and make promises I didn't know if I could keep...”

He's started to sway with me now. “...But I also remember dancing like this on New Year's Eve. I
think about that all the time, too.”

“...I think about that, too. ...I think about sitting beside the river with you...watching the
sunset...windsurfing together...”

“Winning masks in quuk'tanoi...ice skating in the mountains...”

“...Our wedding...our honeymoon...the first time you called me Princess...” I pull back to look up
at him. “...I meant it when I said you gave me a lifetime's worth of love in a matter of weeks.
...But don't imagine for a moment that I didn't always want more.”

“I never do, Princess.” He bends to kiss me gently, just tasting my mouth, lingering there for a
moment. I savor the sensation, but then an aching quiver deep in my belly makes me pull back
with a gasp. He looks up, concerned. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I'm starving!” I groan. “I feel like my stomach's going to start dissolving itself if I don't get food
soon.”

He laughs. “Fair enough. Watcha in the mood for?”

“Potatoes,” I answer promptly. “Don't care how they're prepared, as long as they're loaded with
carbs and starch. Potatoes and pickles, and a garden salad with spinach leaves, tomatoes,
cucumbers, bacon bits, blue cheese...”

“Wait, what? You hate blue cheese.”

“I know! It smells like feet! But apparently, River likes that in food, because I want it all over my
salad. ...That and peanut butter.”

“...Our kid has a weird appetite. Also, cucumbers and pickles are the same thing, just one is
salty.”
“I need both the salty and the unsalty.”

He snorts, winding an arm around my waist and bending to nuzzle my neck. “Let's see what we
can rustle up.”

Diego
There is something in the air in Laguna Beach tonight. I'm not sure what it is, but it's made my
little nuclear family of five feel giddy and affectionate. Maybe it's all of Allie's baby hormones
permeating the air. When she and Jake got home an hour ago, the trunk of her car was loaded
with a bizzare mix of groceries that she explained dismissively as being the result of cravings.
Of course, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, and I all forbid her from trying to carry any of the bags in herself
and loaded our arms up with them. Stubborn wench that she is, Allie defiantly grabbed one of
the lighter bags and marched into the house, sticking her tongue out at us as she went. Looking
at the bags on the counter, somehow, the four men in the room got the same thought in our
heads that we were going to make dinner. Allie looked at us skeptically when we suggested it,
but as I pointed out, even if none of us are Raj, we can still follow a recipe. So, she obligingly
excused herself from the kitchen with a bag of potato skins, a jar of peanut butter, and a carton
of orange juice, and settled in the rec room to watch TV.

Now, we're all gathered around the table on the deck, looking out over the Pacific as the sun
goes down over the water, nibbling at the remains of a satisfying meal of potato soup, garlic
bread, salad, and fresh fruit. Allie, who drenched her salad in Italian dressing and peanut
butter, uses a thin slice of garlic bread to soak up the remaining puddle, sprinkling pieces of
blue cheese on top before stuffing the abomination into her mouth. She grins as she notices us
watching her with a mix of horror and fascination.

“I know, I know,” she says around the mouthful. “When I'm back to normal, I'm going to realize
just how disgusting these combinations are.”

“My mom says that whatever a woman craves most while pregnant usually ends up being the
kid's favorite food,” Jake remarks. “Kinda makes sense to me. My mom hates seafood, but she
says she had the worst cravings for it while she was pregnant with me, and I could basically live
off anything that comes from the ocean.”

“Guess that means River's going to be a fiend for peanut butter,” I quip. “Seriously, how many
jars of the stuff have you gone through this week?”

“At least one-and-a-half of the family size,” she admits. “I just hope they don't end up with
peanut allergies. ...But anyway, how was everyone's day?”

Most of us were off today, but I spent the morning working on a lesson plan before Varyyn and
I went for a little picnic on the beach. Mike applied to a few jobs in the area, and thinks he might
have secured something for the holiday season at a warehouse. Meanwhile, Jake was making
travel arrangements for himself and Allie for Thanksgiving.
“You also snuck in to watch the end of my last class,” Allie reminds him. “Got there just in time
for the Dolly Dance.”

“Yes, I did, and it was too fucking adorable. All those little rugrats bouncing and tippy-toeing
with a bunch of dolls and stuffed animals was cute enough, but add in my gorgeous wife leading
them?” He dramatically clutches his chest. “My heart almost couldn't take it.”

“Wait...the Dolly Dance?” I feel my face scrunch as I search my memory. “That sounds really
familiar...”

“Possibly because it's the same Dolly Dance that I did when I was four years old, and your mom
was always the one driving me to dance classes, which meant you were usually dragged along,
too.”

“Right! And I remember once your teacher let me join in!”

Varyyn turns to raise an eyebrow at me. “Did you dance, Diego?”

“Well, not like Allie, of course. My parents could never afford classes...and I'm not sure they
would have wanted me to dance if they could...”

The mood is temporarily dampened, but quickly lifted again when Varyyn takes my hand. I turn
to smile at him and notice his golden eyes dancing.

“...Dance with me, my darling.”

“Right now?”

He stands to take my other hand and pulls me to my feet, drawing me against his broad chest.
“You are a beautiful dancer, my love. You have been as long as I have known you.” He starts to
sway with me, and I lean into his embrace.

“Well, I am as long as I have your lead.”

He nuzzles my neck. “No...you are beautiful and graceful all on your own.” He winds his arm
around my waist and lifts my hand into a waltz position, spinning me slowly across the deck.

“Careful, you two!” Mike calls. “Don't fall.”

I pull back and lock eyes with Varyyn. “We won't fall. He will never let me fall.”

“Never,” he agrees, not taking his eyes off my face. “You are always safe in my arms.”

I hear Allie mock-groan. “Well, we might as well all get up and leave. Those two are going to
forget that there's anyone else here in like, two seconds.”
None of them move, though. She's right, but none of them move. The evening is pleasant, and
the temperature hasn't dropped yet. It will after the sun's been down for awhile, but right now
it's still warm. And I'll be warm awhile longer, in Varyyn's arms. And yes, the rest of the world
does fade away when I'm looking into his golden eyes. Even after five years, there are moments
when I cannot believe how in love I am with him. Or how much he loves me back. I can hardly
believe how lucky I am to be living this moment, to be a part of this little nuclear family. My
husband, my best friend and her husband, her husband's best friend, and in six months or so,
my little godchild...

In the next moment, several things seem to happen at once. For the life of me, I'm not sure
which happens first, whether I see the change in Varyyn's expression or hear Jake's voice
asking, “You okay, Princess?”

I look sharply at Allie, who has brought a hand to her forehead. In the waning light, I can see
that her skin has taken on an ashen cast. I break my embrace to step closer to the table, but I
keep one hand in Varyyn's.

“I'm fine,” Allie mumbles. “Just...feeling a little lightheaded. I...think I'm gonna go inside and get
horizontal for a moment.”

She starts to stand, but it's clear she's not feeling steady on her feet. Jake moves quickly to
brace her, and she winds her arms around his neck, letting her head drop onto his shoulder.
Her breath shudders audibly as she struggles to keep it slow and steady. Jake strokes her hair,
looking at the rest of us with alarm in his eyes.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Allie replies weakly. “Vertigo is common in pregnancy. They told me as
much.” After a moment, she lifts her head to smile at him, still looking peaky. He frowns
critically at her, studying her face. Finally, he pulls back enough to turn her toward the house,
taking her gently by the arm to steady her.

“...I'm gonna call Michelle as soon as we've got you inside. Get her advice.”

“Let me help you with her.” Mike gets up to take her other arm. I start to follow them inside, but
Varyyn tightens his grip on my hand, holding my back. I turn toward him. My concern
immediately deepens at the look on his face.

“Varyyn? Sweetie, what is it?”

“...She was seeing something,” he murmurs in Vaanti.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A vision. She showed it to me. There was...a figure in shadow. Someone familiar to her.”
I am still for a moment, trying to process this. “...Familiar to her...I don't think there's anyone
familiar to her who wouldn't be familiar to me...unless...it's someone we knew in another time
loop that I don't remember...”

“I don't know if you know this person. ...But the figure was familiar to me, too.”

“Do you think this...vision has anything to do with her getting dizzy?”

Varyyn shrugs. “I don't know enough about child-carrying to guess.”

I step forward to cup his cheek and press my lips to his—both because I want to kiss him, and
because I need a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Okay. Let's not get carried away here. Let's not say anything unless she does, okay? Jake's
jumpy enough with the news of that Arachnid mook, and with Allie being pregnant. If she
doesn't know who the figure is yet and neither do you, there's no telling whether they're
actually significant. I mean...it might be Yvonne. Or Malatesta, or Kele. One of those people who
went back to their own times after the timelines reset.”

Varyyn exhales slowly and nods. “You are right, my darling. Of course. There is no reason to get
upset.” He kisses my forehead. “...You have been a voice of reason around here of late, do you
know that?”

I sigh a little, raising myself to kiss his throat. “It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. ...But I
guess I've grown up a lot from the kid I was when you first met me, huh?”

“We both have, my own sweet love. But you in particular have grown so strong.”

I feel heat rising to my cheeks at the praise, but I can't help smiling. “...Let's go inside,
sweetheart. It's getting cold. And I do want to check on Allie.”

Allie is lying on the couch when we get inside, her phone on speaker beside her head, talking to
Michelle. After a series of questions, Michelle concludes that there is probably no cause for
alarm. At this point in her pregnancy, Allie is probably getting dizzy because the growing uterus
is pressing on her nerves. But Michelle does insist that she make an appointment to see her
doctor in the next few days, and Allie promises she will.

She seems to feel better after a few more minutes of rest. She doesn't mention the vision of the
shadowy figure. And if she and Varyyn mind-talk about it, they don't say anything to the rest of
us.

Silas Prescott
The call comes well after the night nurse has left, from a number that comes up on my phone
as Unknown. I was expecting this, and I answer.
“This is Silas Prescott.”
The voice that answers is rough and masculine, pitched low, with a cadence that makes me
think of the storytellers of the far away ancient tribes that Helena used to study with such
wonder.
“Silas Prescott,” the voice murmurs. “A mutual friend has asked me to speak with you. Listen, and
I will tell you the story of the Endless.”

Chapter 31: Lines of Loyalty

Summary:
Before he can make his next move, Caleb must face the leader of his new gang. Meanwhile,
Taylor and Tahira make Thanksgiving plans.
Chapter Text

Caleb
The next phase of my plan requires finesse. Precision. It requires subterfuge, which I am not a
fan of. I recognize the necessity of it sometimes, but it always feels dishonest. I mean,
subterfuge is always dishonest, that's the whole point. But what I mean is that it feels like a
compromise. Playing by the rules of the corrupt system, even if I'm privately defying them.
Letting them believe they have my support, even if it's only temporary. I would much rather
come storming in and make a bold statement. I want them to know why their shit is falling
apart in front of them, and I want them to know right away. I want them to know it was me.

Gigi would argue that you can still get all that same satisfaction from subterfuge if you do it
right, but I'm still skeptical. Speaking of the psychobitch, if I'm gonna do this subterfuge thing
right, I have to keep her from getting suspicious. I've been making sure to check in with one of
her spies on the edge of Bayside every couple of days, but I know that I can't stay in
Northbridge indefinitely. The longer I delay going back to the squatter nest and giving her
something concrete, the more suspicious she'll get, and the more likely I am to end up neck-
deep in particularly rancid shit. The closer I get to the probable deadline, the faster I go through
my Camels. I make what I estimate to be my third stop at that convenience store to stock up for
the road with a six-pack each of beer and generic cola, a fresh pack of Camels, and a couple of
those burritos—which I think actually has to be laced with crack or something because
convenience stores should not have burritos this good.

Just like the last two times, the dark-haired kid is behind the counter, and his grizzled old biker
manager rings out the beer and smokes before slumping back to the storeroom. I cast a critical
eye over the kid while he finishes ringing up the cola and burritos. I find my gaze drawn to the
racks of candy under the counter and impulsively grab a bag of gummy bears to toss on my pile.

“Those too.”
“Sure thing.” The kid scoops up the gummy bears, scanning them and dropping them in the
plastic bag with the rest of my shit. He gives me my total and I pull out a slim wad of bills from
my pocket, peeling off a twenty. I hold it out to him, reaching into the bag to pull out the
Camels.

“So...do you live here or something?” Tapping the pack against my palm, I read the nametag
pinned to the front of the kid's polo. “...Dylan?”

Dylan plucks the twenty from between my fingers, looking reproachfully at me. “Of course not.”

“So, I look back in that storeroom, I'm not gonna find your four kids and a dog?” I pull the tab on
the cellophane cover. It crackles angrily as I tug off the top half. The heat in the store is on full
blast to combat the cold November air constantly streaming through the doors, and the dry air
makes the cellophane stick to my hand more than usual. Dylan eyes the pack in my left hand as
I shake my right furiously, trying to dislodge the clear wrapper.

“Those things'll kill you, you know,” he mutters.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, golly gee, will they? I didn't know that because I've lived my whole life in a
goddamn cave, and I can't actually read this warning label right here on the pack! Fuck off.
Unlike you, I'm an adult.”

Dylan grumbles a reply that sounds like a warning not to light up inside, and jabs a button on
the cash register. I grunt and stuff the pack in my pocket with the inner foil still sealed, giving
my cellophane-draped hand another shake. I hold my left hand out for my change, and Dylan
grudgingly counts it out into my palm, dropping the coins on top.

“Hey, you know what else'll fucking kill you? Skipping lunch near daily. Probably at about the
same rate as smoking. I dunno, I'm no doctor.” I finally paw the cellophane off on the rim of the
plastic bag and grab it by the handles, dropping the handful of coins and singles back on the
counter. “Keep the change. Buy yourself one of these crack burritos. Seriously, convenience
store food has no business being this good.”

Before he can reply, I stalk out the door and into the biting cold, the door's tiny brass clapper
bell trilling behind me.

***

Traffic is bad getting out of the city, so the whole drive to Squatterville takes over an hour.
Enough time for me to puff through half the pack. I'm driving a junker of a minivan that's at
least as old as I am, so old that it doesn't even have a CD player. Just a cassette slot. But I did
manage to find an old-fashioned cassette adapter and portable CD player last time I went
looking for the kind of obsolete electronics that a guy in my position can actually afford. I put
on a burned CD of a bunch of songs from a bunch of those rock metal bands out of northern
Europe, the ones with the female lead singers and their reality-defying powerhouse voices
ringing out over electric guitars, drums, and epic orchestras. I turn the volume up as much as I
can stand, put the heater on full blast, and lower the driver's side window. I spend the journey
smoking, tapping ashes off the end of my cigarette through the open window, and tossing the
butts out onto the road. In between cigarettes, I scarf down two burritos and guzzle three colas.
I toss the wrappers and empty cans into the dark space behind the front seats, where I rarely
look. The nicotine coursing through my blood keeps me calm enough on the drive, but as I get
closer to Squatterville, closer to Gigi, I start wishing I'd bought another pack.

Gotta keep sight of the goal. The goal right now is to buy myself some more time. I need
something to tell Gigi so she'll let me go back to Northbridge for awhile. Something close
enough to the truth to be convincing, but far enough that she won't get wind of what I'm really
doing. Something to grab her interest enough that she'll let me go on with it, but not enough
that she'll want to come along for the ride. Squatterville is fast approaching. I may have to wing
it a little.

I turn off the main road onto a quiet side road. The side road turns to crumbling pavement,
then gravel, dirt, and finally nothing more than a grassy path cut into the trees with two long
barren ruts permanently worn into it by countless tires passing over. I park on the side of a hill
and tuck the half-empty pack of Camels in the inner pocket of my jacket, zipping up against the
chill. I shove the gummy bears into one hip pocket, and all the cash and change I have on me
into the other. Unable to put it off any longer, I climb out of the car and make my way up the hill
into the trees.

The sun is already starting to sink in the sky, and the trees make long, stark shadows that
obscure the uneven path. I step carefully, not quite willing to use the emergency flashlight that
dangles from my keyring. One of the other squatters will spot me and let Gigi know I'm coming,
if she's at home. No need to alarm anyone. If someone particularly twitchy is on guard, startling
them could mean I end up with a knife stuck somewhere in me or worse.

I can make out a few signs that she's home as I trudge toward the abandoned houses. She's got
her own little code of symbols and signs that she'll trace in the dirt or spell out with sticks or
pebbles to let us know where she is. I also hear movement in the trees that I'm pretty sure isn't
being caused by animals. It's almost dark by the time I reach the cluster of abandoned houses. A
small campfire burns in the small no man's land between the treeline and the edge of the
nearest house. Gigi stands beside it, watching me approach with a smirk on her pretty face.

I gotta be real, Gigi is...unfathomably good-looking. She's got this creamy, pale skin, these full,
pouting lips that she emphasizes with deep red lipstick, clear blue eyes, and long waves of silky
auburn hair. How she stays so flawless is a mystery, living the way we do, but I'm guessing she
spends at least half the time she disappears working on her appearance. ...Or maybe she just
has good genes. However she does it, she at least knows how to use what nature has given her.
She wears form-fitting black clothes that hug the curves of her hourglass figure, and heeled
boots to emphasize her shapely calves and ass, as well as add a couple inches to her height. She
looks like the kind of woman you know you shouldn't tangle with, but you kinda want to
anyway. You wanna know what makes her tick, even if you don't think you'll like the answer, or
the experience of finding out.
She licks her lips in a way that reminds me of a hungry wolf. She's got the large split ring on the
end of a teddy bear keychain around her index finger, and she twirls it around her finger as she
watches me approach.

“Well, well, well. Look who the cat dragged in. Welcome back, Pyro.”

I exhale slowly. “Hey, G...how's tricks?”

She pulls a face, pushing her lower lip into an exaggerated pout. “Aww, Pyro. You know by now
that I don't turn tricks. I don't need to.” She grins, catching the teddy bear in her palm. “Step
into my office.”

She leads me into one of the old ranch houses, into the master bedroom, which she has claimed
as her space. Besides a queen-sized mattress on the floor, she also has a beat up old office desk
and swivel chair. The desk is metal and tends to give electric shocks in the winter. She flips a
switch on a portable generator. Light from the work lamps mounted on the walls floods the
room. She turns to face me.

“Arms out, Pyro.”

I sigh, grudgingly holding my arms out to the side. I've gotten used to this routine by now. She
approaches and pushes her hands into my hip pockets. She pulls the money out of my left
pocket and throws it on the desk without looking too hard. She's found the bag of gummy bears
in the other pocket, and her face has lit up with glee. She pulls out the bag and rips it open,
digging out a small handful. For a moment, she just gazes down at the colorful pile of candy in
her palm, a wolfish grin on her face. She selects a green bear and sniffs it before putting it to her
lips and sucking it into her mouth. I watch for a minute or so while she savors each chewy little
bear.

“Uh...can I put my arms down?” Gigi holds up one finger, slowly chewing. I sigh, rolling my eyes.
“G, come on. My shoulders are getting sore.”

Gigi finishes the handful and sticks her hands into my jacket pockets. Finding nothing in the
outer pockets, she searches the inner ones and comes up with my cigarettes. I close my eyes,
trying not to audibly groan.

“Camels?” At the sound of her voice, I open my eyes to find her arching an eyebrow at me. “You
know I prefer Winston's.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, G, well you know what? I prefer Camels, and I didn't get them for you.”

She chuckles, pulling one out and sticking the filtered end between her teeth. For a moment,
she looks at me, and I know she's debating whether or not she should make me light it for her.
Apparently deciding against it, she produces a lighter printed with images of the Powerpuff
Girls from her jacket pocket and lights up. I should have bought a few more packs, stashed them
in the dark in the back of my van. But I know the one time I do will be the one time she decides
to send one of her broken goons to search it. So now I'm watching her puff through my nicotine
stash, and I don't even know if she's gonna let me go to get more any time soon. She exhales a
pungent cloud and leans back against her desk.

“So, where have you been, Pyro? It's been awhile.”

I take this as a cue that I can finally put my arms down. “Northbridge. Didn't Roach tell you as
much?”

“Of course. But you were extremely vague about what you were doing. Enlighten me.”

Okay, Caleb. Here goes nothing. “I was looking into the Prism Crystal. You've probably heard
that Dragonness and Silas Prescott have both returned alive.”

“I had heard that, yes. What's it to do with you?”

“G, I can conjure flames because I came in contact with the Prism Crystal. I've heard speculation
that injecting himself with liquid prism has given Silas Prescott a brain tumor. I just want to
know if that's gonna happen to me.”

She regards me critically for a moment, taking another drag on the cigarette between her teeth
and exhaling the smoke. She moves around the desk to sit on the other side, propping her feet
up on top of it.

“What did you find out?”

“Not a whole lot.” I shove my hands in my pockets, choosing my next words carefully. “...Except
that I think the Prism Crystal might be linked to the Island's Heart.”

Gigi glances up sharply, icy blue eyes narrowing. “...Of course they're linked. I know they're
linked. I've always known. ...Are you saying you have proof?”

“Not on me. But yeah. I saw an old security video inside one of Prescott's facilities. From like,
twenty-five years ago. He let it drop that the prism crystal came from La Huerta.”

“...But you didn't take the tape?”

“Well, no. I was in a hurry to get outta there. But the important thing is that we know, right?”

Predictably, she scowls at me. “No. Of course that's not the important thing. For all I know
you're lying to me. And if you're not, Prescott or one of his loyal dogs could have erased that
footage or destroyed it.”

I sigh, trying to arrange my features into something contrite. “...You're right. I fucked up there.
But I think I know how to set it right.”
“And how is that?”

“Dragonness. I worked with her once, and I met with her again while I was in Northbridge. I
think she's got more information on both the Prism Crystal and the Island's Heart. Thing
is...she's not really feeling all that trusting toward me right now since I didn't stick with her
little gang of corporate tools once the dust had settled.”

“And...what do you suggest?”

“Let me go back to Northbridge and work her a little while. I save a few kittens from trees, help
a few old ladies cross the street, get back on her good side...”

Gigi snorts. “And you assume she's just gonna spill on everything then?” she sneers. “No. No
way it's gonna be that easy.”

“Okay, probably not. Might take awhile. But I think she knows something about Taylor
Chandler.”

Once again, Gigi rises to the bait, narrowing her eyes at me. “...Like what?”

“Like why Rourke was so crazy obsessed with her. What she's got to do with the infamous
Island's Heart.”

Gigi is silent for a long time. I watch the Camel get shorter between her lips. This is a
particularly dangerous bluff. I don't know if Tahira actually knows shit about Taylor. I have a
suspicion she does, but that's all it is.

“...Taylor Chandler is the one who killed me.”

“I know. You told me.”

“...But why should that matter to you?”

This question I can answer honestly. “It doesn't. What matters to me is figuring out the Prism
Crystal. I am hoping that the chance to find some shit out about Taylor is appealing enough to
you that you'll let me off the hook for awhile so I can play the hero in Northbridge and gain
Dragonness' confidence.”

“Let you off the hook,” she drawls, tapping an ash off the end of the cigarette. “But I assume you
want me to keep you on the payroll.”

“I get how that could be a damned inconvenience. But it would be appreciated if you were able.”
“If I were able to keep paying you for jobs you aren't actually contributing to? If I were able to
go out of my way to arrange for payments to be dropped while you play errand boy to a bunch
of superpowered busy-bodies?”

I ignore the jab, spreading my hands in a pose like surrender. “Like I said. I get how it could be a
damned inconvenience. I can make my own way if necessary.”

Gigi is quiet for awhile, considering. Then she shakes her head. “No. You work off my payroll,
there's no guarantee you're not aiming to break with me.”

I can't help smirking ruefully. “Break with you, G? Never.”

She ignores me, pinning me with an ice-blue glare. Her gaze doesn't leave my face as she snuffs
out the Camel on the surface of her desk with over an inch left before the filter. Watching it is
almost physical agony. She must realize it, because she smirks.

“We'll arrange a drop. But you get half your usual cut, so you better make it stretch.” She drags
the bag of gummy bears toward her and pierces one with the nail of her index finger, bringing it
to her mouth. “I'll let you do your thing, Pyro. But you better deliver. Fire magic or not, I can
make you sorry if you cross me.”

I nod. As completely batshit cracked as it may sound, I believe her. I totally fucking believe her.

Taylor

Not long past noon on Tuesday morning, I'm enjoying a leisurely lunch at the kitchen table,
flipping through a dance magazine, when my phone rings. Michelle's name flashes on my
screen. I tap the phone a couple times to put her on speaker.

“Hey, Michelle. What's up?”

“Hey, Taylor. I just got home from work, and I wanted to check up on you before I get some sleep.”
I feel a frown crease my brow, and I'm glad we're not video chatting. “Okay, I know I said I was
okay with you being a little alarmist about my health, but I also happen to know you work
twelve-hour shifts. I promise you, I can wait until you've gotten some sleep.”
“And I happen to know that you trust me more than your own OB-GYN, in spite of the fact that my
speciality is neurology. We'll both feel better if you just tell me what she said at your appointment
yesterday.”
“Well, she agrees with you that it's probably nothing to worry about, just the uterus pressing on
the nerves, all very normal. She ran all the tests she thought were necessary and nothing
unusual is going on.”
“And the baby's healthy?”
“Well, she didn't take an ultrasound or anything. Mostly because I feel confident saying that
River's alive and enthusiastically kickboxing in there. I've got the big ultrasound scheduled for
after Thanksgiving, and that's when we'll learn the sex.”
“Well, that's exciting. Are you going to tell us when you find out? Or are you gonna let Raj and
Craig grow the pool a little more first?”
I laugh. “Of course we'll tell you all. At some point, they're gonna have to start betting on when I
deliver, aren't they?”
“Almost certainly.” She pauses for a moment. “Are you cleared to travel for Thanksgiving then?”
“Yeah. But that doesn't exactly stop Jake from being nervous about me traveling on a public
airplane while pregnant. Says they're flying cesspools, especially when they're packed with
holiday travelers.”
“He's not wrong, you know. Why not just get a charter flight from Aleister and Estela? You know
they'd be happy to arrange it. They do have other pilots besides Jake and Mike on their payroll.”
“Because his parents are going to be picking us up from the airport, and I want everything to
feel as normal as possible when I first meet them. I mean, our whole situation is going to be
hard enough for them to swallow without adding in that we have powerful friends who can
arrange charter flights right off the bat.”
“The strangeness of your situation won't matter so much once they meet you,” Michelle declares
confidently. “They're going to love you. Especially when they realize how much you love their
son.”
“Aww, thanks. How is everything on your end?”
She is quiet long enough that concern stirs in my gut. Finally, she sighs. “Oh...you know...”
“That...doesn't make it sound like things are going well.”
“It's nothing serious. I'm just a little burned out right now. ...Burned out and bummed out...”
“What's going on?”
“It's really nothing. I've been switching shifts and covering shifts like crazy to get the time off to
come to California for the New Year, and then to actually get married in March, so I haven't had a
lot of time outside of work.”
“Well, that explains the burnout. But why the bum-out?”
“Well, both Sean and I have to work on Thanksgiving. The Condors have the Thanksgiving game
again, and Tricia's going to be going to watch, and I'm working from noon to midnight, so there's
not much chance the three of us will get to share Thanksgiving as a family this year. Plus, you're in
California with Jake and Diego, Estela and Quinn are in San Trobida, Craig and Zahra are having
Thanksgiving with his family, Raj is in Rome, Aleister and Grace have gone back to London...”
“So, you and Sean are the only Catalysts in Northbridge for Thanksgiving?”
“Exactly. I guess I'm just feeling lonely. I miss you all. ...I guess that's the one thing I'll always miss
about La Huerta, is having everyone right there.”
“I know what you mean. I'm really looking forward to New Year's Eve and having all the
Catalysts back together, even if it's only for a night.”
“But that's more than a month off yet...” The weight of melancholy in her voice makes my heart
squeeze. She sounds exhausted. Dispirited.
“Aww, Michelle...”
“Don't you start worrying about me, Taylor,” she chides gently. “You look after that baby of
yours.”
“I'm gonna take some time off in January or February to come to Northbridge before the
wedding,” I promise. “If only to get properly fitted for my dress. And I'm already making plans
for your bachelorette party in March.”

“As long as those plans don't involve you drinking, I look forward to them.”
After a couple more minutes, we say our goodbyes and hang up so that Michelle can get some
rest. I sit at the table for awhile, staring at my phone. The conversation has left me...unsettled.
I'm not worried about Michelle per se. At least...I'm not worried that she's falling into an
emotional pit, or that she's suffering anything more insidious than a combination of burnout
and disappointment at having to spend the holiday apart from her family. Still, I don't like
hearing her sound so tired and unhappy.
I have no idea what Sean's training schedule is going to be like right now, but I take a chance
and call him. He picks up.
“Hey, Taylor. What's up?”
“Hey, Sean. Hope I'm not interrupting a practice or anything?”
He chuckles. “Trust me, if you had called during a practice, I wouldn't have answered because I
value my life. I'm actually just at the grocery store. ...Is everything okay?”

“It's all okay on my end. But I just spoke to Michelle.”

There's a pause. “Yeah...?”

“I don't know. She just seems...really down right now. She was talking about how you both have
to work on Thanksgiving, and how she's covering a lot of extra hours to be able to come for
New Year's...I guess I'm just kinda concerned.”

He sighs. “Yeah. I don't really blame you. You know how she is when she's got a goal. She doesn't
give herself nearly as much slack as she should.”

“Not unlike you in that way,” I quip.

I can practically hear the wry smirk in his voice, “Hey, there's a reason we connected at Hartfeld.
Two aces at the top of our respective games, biting off way more than we could chew...many a
romantic evening we spent pulling all-nighters together.”

“But you've learned to give yourself some breathing room at least...to give yourself credit and
not carry the burden all on your own...”

“So has she,” he says gently. “You know her, Taylor. You know what she needed most back then,
what her biggest weakness was.”

“She didn't trust people. She wasn't willing to need anyone.”

“Just the fact that she told you she was feeling upset shows how far she's come, doesn't it?”
I am quiet for a moment, thinking this over. I suppose it is encouraging that even though she
called to check up on me, Michelle did not require a lot of probing to admit that she was feeling
under pressure herself.

“You're right. It does.”

“But you're also right. Michelle has been working way too hard lately, and I know not getting to
spend Thanksgiving together is a major disappointment. Don't worry, though. I have a brilliant
plan to make it up to her.”

“Good.” I exhale slowly, feeling myself relax. “You've gotten...really insightful in the last five
years.”

“Yeah, well...I ended up going through some therapy after graduation. It helped clarify a lot of
what was going through my head after the island. ...Helped me deal with the trauma and the grief,
not just from what we went through, but everything before the island, too. Everything with my
dad and Michelle. Even though she and I were friends again, it took awhile for me to feel like I
could be worthy of her again. Therapy helped with that, too.”

“I'm glad. And I'm really glad you two have each other. Your weaknesses are kinda similar, but
you're both strong enough that it's more of an advantage because you can keep each other in
check with empathy.”

He laughs. “And you're calling me insightful. ...I gotta admit, I'm weirdly happy that you called me
about this.”

“Really? Why?”

“I guess...you could say it's a relief to have you call because you're worried Michelle might be
stressed and disappointed over having to work on Thanksgiving. It feels very...everyday?”

“I think I know what you mean. ...It's a taste of normal that's can be little hard to come by for
our family.”

“Exactly. Hey, I should hang up and finish shopping. ...Are you guys gonna watch the Condors'
game on Thanksgiving?”

“From what Jake's told me, there will definitely be a game on at his folks' place. I'll see if I can
convince them to make it yours. I'll tell Diego and Varyyn to tune in here, too.”

“Good. I'm gonna need all the good vibes you can send me.”

“I'll rub my belly during the game for good luck.”

He laughs. “What, are you Buddha now?”

“What, lucky belly rubs are only for Buddha?”

“Pretty sure. But what the hell, it couldn't hurt. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving if I don't talk to you
before then. And I'll see you guys on New Year's Eve.”

“I'll see you then, Sean.”

Tahira

The biting November breeze trails chilly fingers over my face, tugging at the dark tendrils of
hair that have escaped the headband I've put on to keep my ears warm as I wander through the
park with Grayson, my fingers laced with his. It's mid-afternoon, but the recent end of daylight
savings time means that dusk is rapidly approaching. Not that it's all that easy to tell with the
sky so heavily clouded as it is today. By now, the trees are completely bare, and their skeletal
branches stand out starkly against the dappled sky. The fallen leaves have all been cleared
away, which somehow makes the world seem quieter and more dead in this moment than it
will in a few weeks when the snows start falling. It's like looking at a body freshly dead as
opposed to after it's been embalmed and dressed for a final viewing. The thought is morbid
enough to make me shiver.
“You cold?” Grayson takes his hand from mine to slip his arm over my shoulder and draw me
closer to his side. I smile, letting my head rest lightly on his shoulder.
“I'm okay now. Why, are you cold?”
“A little,” he admits.
“Wanna head back towards your place? We could go inside and get warm.”
He nods, kissing the top of my head. “Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.”
I wind my arm around his waist. “So...how was your dad today?”
“I...didn't say?”
“You haven't said much of anything all afternoon. ...If you don't want to talk about it, that's
okay.”
“No,” he sighs. “I do, kind of. Dad is...well...the doctors think that physically, he's okay. But his
moods are...all over the map. He's angry, he's depressed...and then there are moments when
he's almost manic and he seems hyperfocused on...something. ...No matter what, he still barely
speaks to me. I know he's hearing me, but...it's like he can't say anything of any substance to me.
Like he's hiding something. I've tried confronting him on what he did. I try asking gently. I even
tried asking if he did it to bring Mom back. ...Nothing has gotten him to talk about it. And then
out of the blue today, he says we should have Thanksgiving dinner together.”
“...How do you feel about that?”
“...He's my dad, Tahira. I don't want to leave him alone for a holiday...”
I sigh. “...I want to offer to go with you for moral support...but...”
He shakes his head fiercely, turning toward me and drawing me into his arms. “No. Absolutely
not. After what he did to you, I don't want the two of you anywhere near each other.” He sighs.
“...I feel like I should refuse him. I feel...like I'm being disloyal to you, still worrying about him.”
I feel my heart twist at his words. Pulling back, I take his face in my hands and meet his eyes. I
hold his gaze for a moment before leaning forward to gently press my mouth to his. I feel him
respond and I kiss him again and again, slow and tender. Finally breaking, I let my forehead
rest on his.
“You're not being disloyal to me, Grayson. Any more than you're being disloyal to your dad by
kissing me. You love us both, and it isn't your fault that any of this happened between us.”
He closes his eyes, his breath shaking. “I...just want you to know that I'm on your side.
Really know it. ...If it comes to it, I'll support you over him. I promise.”
I wind my arms around him and rest my chin on his shoulder. “I am grateful to have your
support.” I murmur in his ear. There aren't many people in the park with the weather being
what it is, but I still keep my voice low. “...But if it comes to battle between me and your father
again, I need to know that you'll be safe more than anything else.”
“...But...”
“Promise me, Grayson. Promise me you'll protect yourself. I'll have allies to rely on in the
fighting, allies like me.”
I feel Grayson hesitate for a moment before finally nodding against my shoulder, wrapping me
in his arms.
“You're right. I have to get used to the idea that my girlfriend has superpowers and doesn't
need me to be the macho man.”
I laugh. “I wouldn't need that from you anyway. That's not who I fell in love with. Just stay my
smart, compassionate, courageous, loyal Grayson.”
“All right, enough flattery,” he quips. “You're already getting a raise with the new year, what
more do you want?”
I draw back to look him in the eye, grinning. “I could tell you, but it might be a little indelicate
for a public park.”
“Ohh, so it's like that, is it? We'd better hurry back to my place, then. I want to see what you're
thinking.”
We start walking again. We're moving faster now, though I'm not sure how much of it is
eagerness to fall into bed together and how much is because it's quickly getting colder.
“Hey...Grayson?”
“Hmm?”
“Even if I can't go with you to your dad's...there's no reason you can't join me and Mom for
dinner afterwards, right?”
“Two Thanksgiving dinners? I probably wouldn't eat much at the second one...”
“That's all right. Mom and I always spend Black Friday dishing out our leftovers at the soup
kitchen in Bayside anyway. And you know we'd love to have you.”
He exhales, and there is relief in the sound. “...I would love to be there. So...so much...”
“It's settled then. Our first official holiday as a couple.” As an idea occurs to me, I turn to him
with a grin. “...And to celebrate this approaching momentous occasion...” I take his hand,
dragging him towards a rock shed on the edge of the park.
“Woah! Tahira, where are we going?”
I stop just long enough to whisper in his ear, “Somewhere I can get changed. Dragonness is
going to fly you home.”

Chapter 32: Bayou Dreams

Summary:
Taylor and Jake head to the bayou for Thanksgiving.
Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Two

Bayou Dreams

Jake
Since the day I went off to the Academy, my folks had talked about building themselves their
dream home in Pearl River. They'd been saving for it most of their adult lives. Even though they
never had the heart to sell my grandparents' home after they died, my father's share of the
inheritance was substantial, and with his brother paying the property taxes, the old house was
never enough of a financial burden to hinder their dream. What did end up throwing a wrench
into their plans was me disappearing on them for three years. Even after I got back, even after
the trial cleared my name, I was such a melancholy wreck that they were pretty slow to start
planning again. But eventually, they remembered their old dream of a beautiful home with
room for their kids and a parcel of grandchildren—even if at the time they started building,
their daughter showed no signs of settling down, and their son was hopping from bed to bed
while mourning the love of his life. It wasn't long after I got the love of my life back that the
house was finished and my parents moved in.

I gotta think this Thanksgiving is pretty much gonna be the best one Mom and Pop have ever
had. Even if the circumstances aren't exactly what they'd have them be, their first holiday in
their dream home, they're going to be meeting the woman carrying their first grandchild.
Knowing my parents, they won't be able to find a flaw worth fussing over once they meet
Taylor and see how much she loves me. Ultimately, that's all they want in any partner Rebecca
or I bring home. But that doesn't stop Taylor from being nervous.

“Are you guys sure you'll be all right?”

“For the hundreth time, Allie, we'll be fine! ” From inside the walk-in closet, I watch Diego
march over to take the nightgown that Taylor has balled up in her hands and shake it out
before swiftly folding it and laying it on top of the pile of clothes in her suitcase. “Come on. You
gotta finish packing or you guys are gonna be late for your flight.”

I bite back a smile as I emerge with a sea-colored cable knit cardigan. “You might wanna bring
this, Princess. The weather ain't gonna get very cold, but I know you've been chilly here and
there. Besides, it might be cold on the plane.”

Taylor accepts the sweater to tuck into her carry-on. “Thanks. I think that should be everything.
Wait, did I pack the presents?”

Diego lifts up the edges of a few shirts to show her the small wrapped boxes underneath,
containing a bag of gourmet coffee, an elegant set of personalized coasters, and a custom-made
Christmas tree ornament.
“They're here. And the ornament is packed carefully and well-padded so it won't break in
transit.” He steps behind Taylor and gently rubs her upper arms. “Take a couple of deep
breaths, Allie. You're kinda getting yourself worked up.”

Taylor closes her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. “God, why am I so nervous about this?”

“Because you're meeting your in-laws.” Diego kisses her cheek. “Your in-laws who are totally
gonna love you.”

“He's right. They are.” I grin up at Diego. “Sorry we're leaving you guys alone for the holiday.
But Mike'll be back from Portland Thursday evening.”

Diego scoffs, grinning back. “Oh, yes. Alone with my husband in a luxury beach house for thirty-
six hours. However will I survive?”

Taylor finally cracks a smile. “Okay, I'm being silly to worry about you. Is that your point?”

“It's one of them.” Diego pats her shoulders briskly. “Come on. Your flight leaves at one, which
only gives us about five hours, and we're dealing with California traffic and holiday travelers.
We gotta get moving.”
I suspect Diego is hustling us at least in part because he's eager to be alone with Varyyn, but
he's definitely not wrong. Once we've exchanged au revoirs with Varyyn and loaded up Diego's
car, it takes us over an hour to get to the airport. Diego helps us unload at the departure curb
and pulls Taylor in for a long embrace.

“I'll be here to pick you guys up when you get home,” he promises. “...Want me to call to check
in tomorrow evening?”

“...Would you?” Taylor's voice is plaintive, and I feel a twinge of sympathy. We'll be gone for
about five days, the longest she's been separated from her best friend since she came back. This
would be difficult for her even if she weren't heading into a situation that's already got her
nerves on edge.

“I promise I will. Te quiero mi hermana.”

“Te quiero mi hermano.”

She kisses his cheek and moves to collect her bags. Diego moves to embrace me next, gripping
me firmly.

“Look after her for me, Jake.”

“You know I always do, Pup. Happy Thanksgiving. Don't you and Varyyn burn the house down
while we're gone.”

He chuckles. “We'll do our best. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Taylor hooks her arm through mine as we make our way inside, pressing close to avoid losing
me in the crowd of holiday travelers. It makes it a little harder to walk, but I don't really mind. I
ain't keen to lose her in this crowd, either. We check our bags and slowly make our way to the
security line.

“Jake! Jake McKenzie!”

The familiar voice sounds behind me. I turn and spot Rebecca elbowing her way through the
crowd toward us. As she finally reaches us, I release my wife just long enough to embrace my
sister.

“Perfect timing, Rebecca. I didn't think we'd find each other in this mess before we got to the
gate.”

Rebecca snorts. “Whose bright idea was it to travel over Thanksgiving?”

“Mom and Pop are chomping at the bit to show us the new house,” I remind her. I pull back and
drape an arm over Taylor's shoulders. “And to meet my wife.”

“Tch. Where are my manners?” Rebecca turns to smile at Taylor. “How're you feeling, Taylor?”

“My fingernails are growing faster, I'm growing extra hair, breaking out, getting stretch marks,
and I've gone up a shoe size. Honestly, if I didn't feel them dancing around in there, I'd think I
was turning into a werewolf, not having a baby.”

I snort, drawing my other arm around my wife. “If werewolves were as beautiful as you, no one
would be afraid of them.”

Taylor pulls back to pout at me. “Are you saying I'm not scary?”

“I'm saying you don't look scary. Anyone who knows you knows that you are very scary when
you need to be.”

“Smooth,” Rebecca quips. “I'm impressed. Come on, let's see if we can get through this security
line before the flight leaves.”

***

We make it through the line in under an hour, and settle at the terminal to wait for our flight.
Taylor buys herself a bottle of juice and pulls out the ziplock bag of peanut butter cookies she
brought to share. Rebecca and I each take one and sit back in the black naugahyde chairs.
Beside me, Taylor laces her fingers with mine, stroking my knuckles with her thumb.

“So...what all should I know about your parents before I get there?”
“Not a whole lot I think I have to warn you about,” I reply. “They're good folks.”

“Very Cajun,” Rebecca adds, grinning. “Especially Mom. She grew up in Lafayette, both parents
as Acadian as they come. Pop's half-Cajun, raised in New Orleans. He doesn't have as much
Cajun English in his daily speech as Mom, but they both speak French, too.”

“They're also culturally Catholic,” I add. “But not actually practicing, so they won't get on your
case about having the baby baptized in a Catholic parish or anything.”

“Good. I get enough of that from Diego's mom.”

When Rebecca looks briefly confused, I explain, “Her aunt and uncle were her legal guardians,
but she was basically raised by Diego's parents. ...Speaking of which, Princess, my parents know
your basic upbringing. They know your parents died when you were a baby and you were
raised by an aunt and uncle in California. ...I haven't told them the part about you basically
being brought up by your best friend's parents yet. I figure that's a more personal detail.”

“...Yeah, but I'm betting it will come out at some point while we're there,” she sighs.

“Let me just say as an objective observer that you don't have anything to worry about,” Rebecca
says. “Jake and I are gonna guard your other...personal details. But even if they knew them,
Mom and Pop wouldn't dislike you for them. You got everything going for you with them except
that they haven't met you yet. Once they do, you'll be golden.”

Taylor offers my sister a shaky smile and settles her head on my shoulder. I mouth a thank you
at Rebecca.

The fact is, I'm nervous about this visit, too. It's not that I doubt my parents will love Taylor. I
don't doubt it for a second. But even after five months of waking up with her in my arms, even
after all these weeks of holding her hand through the messy and uncomfortable parts of her
pregnancy so far, even after everything we've learned about her origins and all the assurances
to the contrary, there is a deep down part of me that still fears this isn't real. That at any
moment, Vaanu is going to come back and snatch her away from me again. Recent events have
admittedly made Vaanu much less of a concern, but nothing has yet convinced me that either
she or my child in her womb are actually safe. Of course, it would be ridiculous and unhealthy
to hide her and the baby away forever as if that could actually prevent Rourke or Prescott or
some ressurected Arachnid mook from getting to them. But I can't help but worry about
bringing her into the lives of people who don't know the whole truth of her existence. When I
lay it out in my head, it sounds ridiculous. But that doesn't stop me being nervous either.

I clasp my wife in my arms and kiss the top of her head.

“...I love you, Princess,” I murmur.

“Love you too, Top Gun.”

“That ain't gonna change. Not ever. Whatever else there is, whatever else happens, I love you.
Don't ever forget it.”

“I don't.” She nuzzles my neck lightly. “That's why I'm here.”

Diego

The late November afternoon is mild, as one would expect in Southern California. Still, it's cool
enough to make me put on a robe as I make my way out to the hot tub with a picnic basket on
my arm. Varyyn is already waiting for me with the jets turned on. He smiles as I approach, his
eyes falling to the basket.

“What have you got there?”

“Just a lovely romantic spread to kick off our thirty-six hours of romantic solitude. Just because
we're not going anywhere for Thanksgiving doesn't mean we shouldn't eat well.”

I set down the basket and take off my robe, tossing it on the back of one of the pool chairs. I'm
wearing swim trunks, but as I sink into the warm water, I quickly realize I'm the only one. I
laugh.

“You rascal! Now I feel overdressed.”

Varyyn glides to my side and wraps one strong arm around my torso, pulling me to his chest. As
he presses his mouth to mine, I feel the fingers of his other hand slip under the waistband of my
trunks.

“I could help you with that if you like,” he whispers huskily against my lips.

“Mmm, I do like,” I murmur back. He works the garment off, lowering it past my hips, and I
raise my legs to slip it off the rest of the way, gasping a little at the sensation of the heated
water flowing between my thighs. Varyyn tosses the trunks aside, letting them land on the pool
deck.

“Better?”

“Much.” I peck his mouth gently. “Now, how about some champagne?”

“Lovely.”

He sits back, gliding to the edge of the tub and stretching his arms back to rest on the lip of the
deck. He watches me with a fond smile on his lips, the muscles in his arms rippling under his
blue skin. ...God, he's sexy. I have to shake my head to clear it enough that I can actually find the
picnic basket on the edge of the tub and pull out the bottle of champagne and two glasses. I
pour the champagne and sidle up to my husband to hand him a glass before settling myself
underneath his arm and leaning against his chest. I lift my glass.

“A toast. To you, my darling, and to us. And to alone time, because once Allie's baby comes
along, we won't have much of this.”

Varyyn chuckles, clinking his glass against mine. “If we were in Elyys'tel, alone time would be
even harder to come by.”

“...Do you ever wish we were living there together?” The question is out of my mouth before I
can stop it, and once it's flown, I feel a vague sense of dread at his answer. But whatever he
intends to say, he kisses me first, and that eases my concern a little.

“There are many things that would be easier if we were. But I don't regret leaving to live with
you in your world. I get to go back and visit my people from time to time, so it is not as if they
are lost to me. And much has changed there for the better since Taylor gave herself back to
Vaanu, so I do not worry for them. And since Taylor came back, I have that much more reason
to be glad we chose to live in your world rather than mine. ...To be honest, my love, I fear you
have more cause to regret our choice than I do.”

I pull back, raising an eyebrow at him. “Me? Why?”

He averts his eyes, looking down at his glass. He takes a slow, deliberate sip. I find myself
sipping on my own glass to fill the silence. Finally, he looks up at me again.

“Do you ever wish that I were human?”

I blink. “...What?”

“Do you ever wish that my skin were some shade of white or pink or brown so that I could be
introduced to your family?”

I actually have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing, though I don't quite manage not to
smile. It's a mirthless smile, but I can't keep it off my face.

“...Babe, there's a lot more than the color of your skin stopping me from introducing you to my
parents. Even if you were some shade other than blue, I couldn't introduce you as my fasted
partner without breaking down everything I've worked five years to build back up between me
and my parents.”

At that, his golden gaze turns so mournful that I feel a lump rising in my throat. I set my glass
aside and reach up to take his face in my hands, kissing his mouth gently. He puts his own glass
down and winds his arms around my waist under the water, pressing his forehead to mine.
“It...makes me very sad,” he murmurs, “to know that your parents would not accept me as your
partner even if I looked human.”

“Yeah...it makes me sad, too. To think that even after all these years, I can't be entirely honest
with them. But...Varyyn...if I trusted them enough to bring a man home—any man—and
introduce him as my partner, it wouldn't make a difference what color his skin was. Whether it
was white, brown, or blue. Because if I could trust them with that, I think I could trust them
with anything. But the fact is...I don't trust them that much. They're my parents, and I love
them. ...But I don't trust them.”

He sighs and I nestle into his embrace again, resting my head on his shoulder. I'm
uncomfortably reminded of the days when Varyyn first began to understand how much harder
it was to be a man in love with another man out here in our world than it would have been in
his. Because of their origins, the Vaanti place an extraordinary amount of value on romantic
love. Enough that any homophobic ideas Eugene Rosencraft and Flora Sullivan may have been
taught growing up in the early 1900's were stamped out by the generations that followed
them—especially after the Endless inserted herself into their mythology. Love is love to the
Vaanti, and to keep someone from the person they love on the basis of what's between their
legs—or any reason at all, really—is considered nothing short of blasphemy. But...that's
obviously not the case out here. And when it started to sink in just how different things were
out here, it hit Varyyn pretty hard. I tried to point out all the progress that's been made, even
just in my lifetime, but when you're not used to being treated at all differently because of who
you love, it's hard to take comfort in knowing that it was all so much worse mere decades ago.

“...It is not only about meeting your family,” he sighs, breaking into my thoughts. “There is so
much that we cannot do because of the way I look. We could not...be married out in this world.
We could not adopt a child...”

I frown slightly. He and I have only discussed having a family once, and only briefly, right after
Grace revealed she was pregnant with Reggie. Among the Vaanti, a couple who is unable to
have their own children, either because they are the same sex or because they just haven't been
able to conceive, may be encouraged to formally adopt an orphaned child if one happens to live
in the village at the time, but since the village tends to raise the children together anyway, it's
not considered a necessity. And since we were living in London at the time, Varyyn and I
assumed we would be called on to babysit plenty often anyway.

“We're going to be helping Allie raise her baby,” I point out. “And any other kids she and Jake
have.”

“I know. It isn't that I feel any pressing need to adopt one to be ours alone...but...sometimes I
worry that I have taken that option from you.”

“Varyyn!” I cup his cheek again, turning his face toward me. “Sweetheart, there is nothing in the
world you have taken from me. I love you. Everything about my life is better for having you in
it.”
“...Do you believe that? Truly?”

“We've had well more than a year and a day to decide whether we're meant to be, Varyyn. Do
you think I would still be here if I had any doubts left?”

I finally see the first hint of a smile curving his mouth. “...Thank you, my darling. I am not sure
what came over me.”

“Hey, with everything that's been happening, I think everyone's kinda nervous about the future.
Me included,” I admit.

He draws me back into his arms, cradling my head against his shoulder. “Tell me what concerns
you.”

“...I worry about Allie and the baby. They're both healthy so far, but I can't help but worry that
there might be complications down the line, or one of them will get sick. I worry about Jake and
Mike, and what might happen if Allie's return brought back more Arachnid troops...or God
forbid, if it brought back Fiddler and she still has it out for them. ...I worry about you, if Rourke
ever manages to get out and cause trouble again, if he'll turns his sights on you or your people.”

“...I worry, too,” he says softly. “...I worry about what effects Taylor's return may have had that
we haven't realized yet. I worry about the shadow figure in the vision she showed me. ...I worry
about being separated from you.”

I clutch his hand. “...I'm not gonna let that happen, Varyyn. I waited too long to know you to let
you be taken from me.”

He brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles. “I won't let you be taken, either.”

I pull back to look him in the eye. “Whatever danger we may face in the future, it isn't here right
now. Right now, you and I are naked in a hot tub with a bottle of champagne and a basket of
goodies, and the house is completely empty of anyone except the two of us.”

I grin, bending to plant kisses on his throat and along the curve of his neck towards his collar
bone. He sighs with pleasure, trailing his fingertips down my torso.

“We would be fools not to take advantage of our situation.”

“Damn straight. Tonight, I plan to show you just how much I love you.”

Taylor
The flight from California to Louisiana takes nearly three hours. Jake and Rebecca are kind
enough to allow me the aisle seat since the growing baby seems to be slowly trying to crowd
my bladder entirely out of my body. Jake sits in the middle, and Rebecca takes the window seat.
About halfway through the flight, lethargy takes hold. I place a pillow between me and the
armrest so it won't dig into my ribs and lay my head against Jake's arm. As he and his sister do
impressions of their mother's thick Cajun accent, I feel my head start to swim comfortably. The
voices above me get languid and indistinct, and eventually start to fade all together. The next
thing I know, Jake is gently shaking me.

“Princess? We're about to land.”

I mumble a reply and fumble to get myself in a proper landing position. Unfortunately, some
combination of grogginess, pregnancy, and air currents upon descent turns my stomach
violently. Although I've had nausea here and there, I haven't actually thrown up since we got
back to California from Northbridge, but this descent breaks that streak. I spend the landing
and the taxi to the gate choking up half-digested peanut butter cookies and airline crackers into
the paper bag that I yanked out of the pocket of the seat in front of me. By the time I dare to
raise my head, I'm soaking in sweat, and the passengers around me are gathering their bags.
Jake, wonderful man that he is, takes my bag of barf and twists the top shut, setting it down out
of sight.

“I'll handle that,” he says, rubbing my back. “Take a moment to sit still. We got a couple minutes
while everyone else gets off.”

I nod weakly, carefully sitting back. As I do, I happen to meet the eyes of an elderly woman
gazing down at me while a woman who might be her daughter gets their bags from the
overhead bin.

“It's a girl.”

It takes me a moment to realize the woman is addressing me. And even when I do, for a
moment, I can only blink dumbly. “...Huh?”

She points at my belly, though thankfully she doesn't try to grab it. “Your baby. You're having a
girl. Baby girls always steal mama's good looks for themselves and make her all kinds of sick.”

“Wha...hey!” Jake yelps. “That's my wife you're talking about, lady!”

The daughter rolls her eyes, taking her mother by the arm. “I apologize for her. She doesn't
really have a filter.”

“Oh, what? I only say what's true!” The woman looks back at us, jerking her head at her
daughter. “You see how pretty this one is? This gorgeous woman here who still has all the men
chasing after her? You think she got it from her father? Nah. When she was inside me, I had to
wear a bag over my head, and half the time I ended up puking into it!”
“Oh my god, Mom!” the daughter groans, all but dragging her mother off down the aisle.
“Haven't we talked about the quirky Jewish mother thing before?”

“Honey, I am your quirky Jewish mother, and that's not changing any time soon!”

When they've disappeared off the plane, Rebecca is the first to start laughing, which makes Jake
scowl at her.

“It's not funny! She basically called my wife ugly!”

But by now, I've started laughing too. “Don't worry, sweetie. I haven't taken it to heart.”

“Good.” He wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my cheek. “Because you're
fucking gorgeous.”

“At the moment, I'm pale and sweaty and groggy and my hair is a mess.”

“You're still fucking gorgeous.”

“I'm also ready to get off this damn plane,” I quip. “Let's go meet my in-laws.”

***

Among the crowds waiting at the baggage carousel is Jake's father. Jake and Rebecca
immediately go to greet him with hugs, but I didn't need that cue to figure out who he was. Jake
is the spitting image of his father. Looking at the two of them together, I can almost understand
how my friends must have felt looking at me and the Endless side by side. After greeting his
children, he turns to me, looking me up and down briefly before putting out his hand.

“Frank McKenzie. Pleasure to meet ya.” He has an accent that is more recognizably Cajun than
either Jake or Rebecca, who both have accents that I think must have also been softened
considerably by years spent away from the bayou. I smile and reach out to shake his hand.

“Taylor Chandler.” Feeling the baby flutter in my womb, I put a hand to my belly. “And this wild
thing is River McKenzie. Your unborn grandchild.”

“Whose mama must be pretty tired after that long flight from California,” Frank remarks,
glancing just briefly at the bulge under my shirt. “Only sorry to say we still got a pretty long
drive ahead. We're right on the edge of the wildlife refuge, so it'll take us around an hour to get
back there. But supper will be ready for us when we get there.”

At the mention of supper, my stomach growls, startling me a little. We crossed time zones to get
here, so I wasn't expecting to feel hungry until a couple hours from now. But I suppose
pregnancy will do that—and admittedly, I did empty my stomach pretty thoroughly just now. I
smile warmly at Jake's father.
“That sounds perfect.”

***

The drive out to the bayou is fairly quiet. Frank makes sure I'm comfortable, and then tells me
flat-out that while he's very curious about me, he's not going to wear me out with questions
before I even meet his wife, which I genuinely appreciate. For the most part, we just sit back
and enjoy the scenery as the van glides out of the city and into the swamp land. Frank's van is
roomy and comfortable, and he keeps the air conditioning blowing just enough to keep the
temperature pleasant.

At long last, the buildings start to thin and the trees get thicker. The neighborhood the
McKenzies live in is a little more suburban than I was expecting, but as we approach their
house, I realize how easy it must be to forget that the neighbors are there. Their driveway
winds into a thick cluster of trees whose branches hang like veils over a picturesque acadian-
style house with a raised porch and steeply sloping roof. As I step out of the car, I take a
moment to stare up at the house admiringly.

“This place is beautiful,” I breathe. Jake steps up beside me, whistling lowly.

“She's right, Pop. This is amazing.”

“Just wait until you see the inside,” Frank says proudly, opening the back of the van to collect
our luggage. “Let's get in there. Your mom's probably in the kitchen.”

We step into a wide open foyer, flooded with late afternoon sunlight that gleams on the
hardwood floors.

“That you, sha ?” A voice floats down the hall that can only belong to Jake's mother.

“We're here, Mom!” Jake calls back.

A small, auburn-haired woman appears in the foyer, wiping her hands on an apron. She smiles
warmly at her family, greeting them in French as she embraces first Rebecca and then Jake.
Jake keeps one hand on his mother's shoulder as he turns toward me, holding his other hand
out for me.

“Taylor, this is my mom, Bernadette McKenzie. Mom...this is Taylor Chandler. ...My wife. And
the mother of your future grandchild.”

For a moment, Bernadette regards me critically. Then, she steps towards me.

“Come see, sha, ” she says briskly, putting her hands on my shoulders and looking me up and
down. “Let me get a good look at you.”
It seems Jake and Rebecca's impressions of their mother's accent were not as exaggerated as I
figured. I find myself frantically hoping I won't make a fool of myself by horribly
misunderstanding her. Finally, she steps back from me, nodding.

“Well, one thing I'll say right now: my grandchild is going to be one very beautiful baby.”

***

Supper is something Jake refers to as “a very Cajun affair,” with a flavorful seafood stew served
over rice that fills me up and leaves me warm without burning.

“Hope the seasoning's not too much for you,” Bernadette says, sounding a little anxious. “Lots of
people outside Louisiana find Cajun fare too spicy.”

“It's absolutely delicious,” I assure her. “Don't worry. Thanks to my nanny, I was raised on
mostly Mexican food. She had me eating chili peppers by the time I was three. ...Though
admittedly, the baby has been making my tastes a little unpredictable.”

There's an extended pause, and I feel their eyes searching me. I'm about to start squirming
when Frank breaks the silence.

“Where in California are you from?” he asks.

“I grew up in Riverside. That's in Southern California. It's not too far from Los Angeles.”

“That's where Rebecca's living now.”

“Right,” Rebecca confirms. “Which is a good deal for me, since it means my little brother's
closer to me.”

“So are you still living in Riverside now?” Bernadette asks.

“No, we're in Laguna Beach now. My aunt and uncle gave us use of their beach house when they
heard about the baby.”

Both Jake's parents are quiet for a moment. Then Frank says, “Last time I visited Rebecca, it
was summer. Very dry weather.”

“A good portion of southern California is desert. But most areas have a rainy season, too.
Winters stay pretty mild.”

My in-laws go quiet again, concentrating on their food. I feel a blush creep up my neck. I'm
starting to feel a little ridiculous, chatting about the weather with Jake's parents. It hasn't taken
me long to realize the pattern here. As soon as I bring up the baby, they steer the conversation
back to an innocuous subject. I have no idea if this is out of politeness or discomfort, but it's
baffling after how bluntly Bernadette stated that her grandchild was going to be beautiful. Do
they just not want to discuss it at the dinner table?

“Princess? Everything okay?” Jake's voice is soft, but he isn't trying to be inaudible.

“I'm...I'm fine...” I put down my fork and look up across the table at Jake's parents. “...Listen. I
don't want either of you to think you have to be 'polite' to me to the point that you ignore the
numerous elephants in the room. Namely the fact that I am twenty-two weeks pregnant with
your grandchild, your son calls me his wife, and you have never met me. Besides that, everyone
here knows that I spent five years in stasis and I was only awakened a matter of months ago.
With all that being said, is there anything either of you want to know?”

Again with the protracted silence as Jake's parents regard me searchingly. Finally, Bernadette
sets down her fork and folds her hands, leaning forward in her chair.

“...Why not tell us about you, sha?”

“Very well. I suppose I can start with my major stats. I was born in the Caribbean on January
1st , 1996, while my parents were on a cruise. Seven months later, they tried to take a vacation
to Paris, but their plane crashed on the way. My mom's sister and her husband were given
custody of me because they were my only living relatives, but I was mostly raised by my nanny,
Ramona Soto. Her son Diego is my best friend, has been since we met, and he is going to be the
baby's godfather, but I'll get to him more later if necessary. I grew up in Riverside, California. I
went to Hartfeld University in Massachusetts where I was majoring in history, but I never got
to finish there because of an ill-fated vacation the summer before my senior year. I don't really
feel like going into many details about that trip because it was hard enough to live through
once. But it was on that trip that I met and fell in love with your son. Yes, we only knew each
other for six months before we were separated, but that was more than enough time. When we
were convinced that we were both going to die, our friends performed a marriage ceremony for
us. It wasn't legally binding, but it made us married in our eyes, and that's what really
mattered.

“Since I was awakened, I have been told many times by many people how fiercely Jake
mourned me. I have also been told that he has had other lovers. But he has affirmed that I'm
still the one he wants to be his partner above any of the others, and I am content with that.
Currently, we are living in Laguna Beach in a house owned by my aunt and uncle. Jake is
working for my uncle, I am working as a dance teacher, and Diego and Michael Darwin are also
living with us. I also have a sizeable trust fund and savings bonds from my parents and my aunt
for emergencies. I do plan to finish my degree at some point, but the baby has put that plan on
hold for the moment. Speaking of the baby, it was not planned, but it is very, very much wanted.
We don't know the sex yet, but we'll find out next week after we get back to California. As I said,
Diego is going to be the baby's godfather and Rebecca the godmother, although I don't think
either will be official as we don't plan to have the baby baptized in an official ceremony. Oh, and
I would be thrilled if both of you were willing to be a part of your grandchild's life in any
capacity.”

For a moment, they both look startled.

“Were you worried we wouldn't want to?” Frank asks.

I blink. “Well...no, not really. But I did want you to know that you would be welcome. However
you come to feel about me, I want my baby to know their grandparents—the only living
grandparents they have.”

My in-laws are quiet for a long moment. Finally, Bernadette speaks up.

“Sha, I have to say right now that you seem like a lovely woman. Had you been brought to us in
a more traditional fashion, after Jake had gotten to know you a little and was starting to think of
making it more official, I'd have been nothing but pleased. If I could've been opening a wedding
album right now and looking at pictures of you in a wedding dress while now you're pregnant
with my grandchild, I'd have no mixed feelings at all. Even now, I got no reason be nervous
except that you knew each other such a short time, and as you say, this baby wasn't planned...”

“Mom, I know the situation is...less than traditional...” Jake starts, but I take his hand and he
quiets. I meet his mother's gaze. Her eyes are gentle, non-threatening, but concerned. She is
worried for her son's happiness and well-being, and I cannot hold that against her.

“I know you are concerned that we got married too fast. That once the pressures of parenthood
set in, we may discover that we made a mistake in choosing to stay together. You're concerned
not only that your son's heart may be broken, but you're concerned about how that would
affect your grandchild.”

Frank looks a little embarassed at my assessment, but Bernadette's eyes show relief. “Of
course.”

I nod. For a moment, I am quiet, looking down at my plate. “...I lived two thousand lifetimes in
six months on that island. I was there with my best friend, and I made ten other friends who
came to mean everything to me. I lived and I would have died for any one of them. I still live for
them, and I would still die for them. ...Though now I also live and die for my baby.” I raise my
eyes to their faces again. “But as much as I love all of them, as much as they all helped me face
the nightmare, what I felt for Jake—what I feel for him—is different. From the first day, we
seemed to understand each other. We made each other laugh. We could read each other. He
knew me in a way only Diego had ever known me. We're alike in so many ways, Jake and I.
We're fire. We're hot-headed and wild and passionate and loyal...When I was with Jake,
whatever I was afraid of in that particular moment lost its power. ...Storms...wild beasts in the
jungle...Rourke and whatever torture he had concocted...I faced everything with courage
because Jake was there to make me brave. Make me strong.

“The only thing I never stopped being afraid of was losing him. ...But he ended up losing me
instead. Our separation was five years for him. When he found me again, he still loved me. He
had not stopped mourning me. He still wanted to be with me...”

Bernadette holds up a hand, and I reflexively shut my mouth, still clutching Jake's hand.
“Taylor. You don't have to say anything to convince us. Jake is a grown man, and he don't need
us hovering over his every decision. Yeah, we got worries. And it's probably only time and
getting to know you better that's going to ease them. It's not something you can force or make
disappear with magic words. But it's also not personal. It's not about us liking or not liking
you.”

“I want you to like me...”

“I like you already, sha. How about you, Frank?”

“Of course. Like Bernadette said, if you had been introduced in a more traditional fashion, we'd
have been nothing but thrilled. Just be patient with us. Give us time to get used to you.”

I am quiet for a moment. I'm not...upset by their words exactly. That is, I'm not hurt or angry.
Their words make sense, and they don't make my situation seem hopeless. But I can't say that
this is what I was hoping for, either. Still, I nod.

“I suppose that's fair.”

“Good. ...And so you know, we want you to like us, too.”

I feel a wry smile lift one corner of my mouth. “Well, you have to be patient with me, too. Let me
get used to you.”

“That's fair, too. Now, eat your dinner. I made bread pudding for dessert.”

***

In spite of the fact that Louisiana is two hours ahead of California, I start yawning well before
everyone else. I suspect that's mostly down to the baby. Bernadette agrees, and leads me
upstairs to a spacious guest room with soft beige carpet, walls painted a dusty coral pink, and a
queen-sized four-poster bed.

“Guest bathroom is just through that door. It's all stocked up for you, but if you need anything
else, just ask.”

“Thank you, I will. Where do you keep your towels? I may just have a quick shower before I go
to sleep.”

She leads me into the bathroom and provides me with a set of towels printed with roses and
butterflies. The whole bathroom seems to have been done in a flower and butterfly theme, from
the shower curtain to the wallpaper border.

“It's so beautiful in here. I almost hate to shower and spoil it.”

“Nonsense. Only time a boat is still is in dry dock. Only time a crayon stays sharp is if no one
draws with it. Only time a home is immaculate is when no one lives in it, and it ain't much of a
home then, is it?”

“...Not much of one, no. You don't mind your guests taking long showers, do you?”

“Go ahead. We can afford the water.”

I hesitate just a moment before adding, “...On the island, we didn't have much time to worry
about keeping perfectly clean. We were on the run so much of the time. But every now and
then, we'd find our way back to The Celestial...or Elysian Lodge...and we'd hole up there until
we had to run again. And that was when we'd all finally get a hot shower and a change of
clothes. Even since I got back, whenever I get in the shower, it feels like a break. It's ten or
twenty minutes to clear my head and find my center so I can face what's ahead of me.”

Bernadette reaches out to touch my shoulder gently, her features slightly tighter. “You been
through more than a woman your age shoulda been who didn't sign up for it,” she admits softly.
“Both my children chose to put themselves on the line every day. My daughter's a police officer,
my son was a soldier...I came to terms with their choices a long time ago 'cause I knew they
were choosing for themselves. ...But you didn't choose what happened to you. You were pulled
in with no knowledge of what you were going toward.”

I look away. She's hit a little closer to home than she could have possibly meant to, not knowing
my whole story.

“...We can't control our circumstances. Only how we react to them.”

When Bernadette leans over and kisses me on the cheek, it feels like an impulse, something she
just couldn't hold herself back from doing.

“Take your long shower. Get some sleep.”

She leaves me alone in the bathroom and I do as she says. I take a long, luxurious shower, put
on my pajamas, brush my teeth, and run a comb through my wet hair. I can vaguely hear voices
from downstairs as I turn down the bed and climb in between the sheets. The sheets and
pillowcase have been scented with potpurri, and the smell lulls me into a doze. I wake up again
when Jake comes into the room and turns on the bathroom light.

I lie still, my eyes focused on the triangle of light trickling out of the bathroom across the
carpet. I hear him moving, hear the rustle of his clothes, the rushing of water, the faint sound of
the brush scrubbing his teeth. When the light clicks off, his footsteps carry him over to the bed,
and I feel his weight on the bed. I nestle toward him, and he takes me into his arms.

“Hope I didn't wake you,”

“Mmm, it's all right. I'd rather cuddle you anyway.”

He kisses the top of my head, sighing. “...I hope my mom didn't upset you.”

“It's okay. I understand.”

“I had hoped my parents would be more welcoming.”

“They were very welcoming, Jake,” I murmur, stroking his arm. “They don't dislike me. They
just need to get used to me.”

“I know. That's what they told me. ...They will learn to love you, Taylor. I know they will.”

“Hey, I've got everything going for me. I'm good-looking, I'm heiress to a vast California
fortune...and I'm carrying their grandchild.”

Jake snorts, which turns into a genuine chuckle. “How about the fact that I ain't never been
loved like you love me?”

“Well, I hope that helps, too. Because my youthful looks will fade, and my money may not last.
...But I will love you until this spinning rock and the sun that lights it are as cold as the void.”

“That...took a kinda dark turn there, Princess.”

“Yes, well...it was something the Endless said once.” I nestle a little closer. “...Hold me, Jake.”

“I think your mood is taking a dark turn,” he murmurs, tightening his grip.

“...I think it has. I'm suddenly...unsettled. Feeling a little spooked, I guess.”

“Ain't no monsters under this bed, Princess. Promise. Some out in the bayou, but that's okay.
We can eat 'em if they don't eat us first.”

“I have a horrible feeling you aren't joking.” His only answer is to lightly tap my nose with his
forefinger. I wrinkle my nose, playfully bite at his fingertip. “Stop that, silly.”

“Aww, but you look so cute when you scrunch up your nose like that.”

“You can't even see me right now.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, “but I can picture it. And it gives me the fuzzy-wuzzies.”

I have to laugh at that, a genuine laugh. “You have no idea how ridiculous it sounds to hear you
say 'fuzzy-wuzzies' unironically.”
“I got some idea. Which is why I'll only say it for you. ...And maybe our kid when they're born. I
get the feeling seeing a tiny little piece of you in a bassinet is gonna give me fuzzy-wuzzies like
nothing else.”

I sigh, feeling the anxiety bleed out of me with the slow release of breath. The warmth of the
body beside me and the air beneath the soft quilt and sweet-smelling sheets replaces any
lingering tension with lethargy. I yawn.

“Are you excited to learn the sex next week?”

“You bet. Even though Pop says that's like opening my presents before Christmas.”

I chuckle. “I bet you did that all the time.”

“Nope. Though not for lack of effort, once I stopped believing in Santa. Mom and Pop were just
too good at hiding them. First Christmas I came back from the Academy, Pop finally admitted
that he'd hidden the presents for years on Grandpa's old fishing boat. Damn thing had been in
dry dock since Rebecca was in diapers.”

“Clever. ...Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

“Don't care. I know it sounds cliché, but I really don't. I just want a healthy, happy kid. What
they got between their legs ain't gonna matter to me.”

“Do you have a guess, though?”

“Hmm...well, if what that lady said on the plane is true about girls stealing mama's good looks,
then you definitely got a boy in there, 'cause you look prettier every day.”

I poke his ribs. “Smart answer, Top Gun.”

He chuckles, falling silent for a moment. “...How about you? You gotta guess?”

I feel one hand drift to my belly to caress the bulge. “...A girl.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, it's pretty much fifty-fifty I'm right, unless nature takes a third option.”

“Well. We'll just have to see, won't we.” He kisses my forehead. “Get some sleep, Princess. You'll
need it to face the chaos that is a McKenzie family Thanksgiving.”

I don't even think the words are entirely out of his mouth before I'm asleep again.

***
Her fist connects, a solid blow to my gut angling underneath my ribs. My diaphram contracts
violently, forcing the air from my lungs in a painful rush. I crumple, slumping to the cold floor, my
body spasming as I cough weakly. Every breath sends pain shooting through my chest. I
laboriously raise my eyes to Fiddler's face, dark and angry as a storm cloud.
“Listen, little blonde brat. As much as I like beating up Wolf's latest piece of ass, I'm not doing this
for my own enjoyment.” She kneels, grasping my chin. “Where is the last idol?”
“I...don't...know...”
“The hell you don't! You found eleven idols, but you expect me to believe you didn't find the last?!”
“The C-cygnus idol is...the only one I...could never find...”
Fiddler snarls wordlessly in frustration, throwing my head roughly to the ground. “We'll just see
how pretty Jake finds you once I'm through with you!”
“Hey!” A familiar voice goes through the chamber like a whip. Fiddler draws her blades, whirling
toward the sound. Grace stands in the chamber doorway, bruised and disheveled, her eyes fearful
but determined behind her glasses. Something is clutched in her fist. Something that gleams
amber where it catches the light.
“...Grace...” My voice comes out hoarse and whispery. I don't know if she hears me. Grace lifts the
idol over her head, showing it to Fiddler.
“Is this what you're looking for?”
Fiddler doesn't reply. With an angry snarl, she flings her katana in the direction of the doorway. It
whirls through the air toward Grace's middle...

Jake

Taylor doesn't scream when she wakes up from nightmares. Not usually. Usually it's just the
shifting of weight on the bed that wakes me up as she sits up sharply, and I'm usually
retroactively aware of a soft gasp. But tonight is different. Maybe it's because we're someplace
unfamiliar. Tonight I wake up to a frantic scream from beside me. Adrenaline shoots through
my veins. I feel my heart pounding in my throat as I pull my struggling wife into my arms. As I
wake up a little more I realize that was probably not the smartest move I could have made
given that she is barely awake herself, but she seems to recognize me and curls into my
embrace.

“It's okay,” I murmur languidly into her tousled hair. “Everything's okay. You're safe. I'm right
here.”

“Grace...” she whimpers.

“Grace is safe, too. She's in London with Aleister and Reggie. Whatever was happening to her in
your dream, it was undone.”

A sliver of light appears under the bedroom door, followed by a knock. Without waiting for an
answer, Rebecca pushes the door open just enough to poke her head around.

“Tout va bien?”
“It's fine. Just a bad dream. Those happen sometimes.”

“Right. I'll settle Mom and Pop.”

She closes the door, leaving me and my wife huddled in the darkness again. I cradle her head on
my shoulder, pressing my cheek to her hair as I rock her gently.

“You want me to turn the light on?” She shakes her head. “...Do you wanna give Grace a call?
They're six hours ahead of us in London. They might even be up and about by now.”

“No...it's okay. I'll be okay. ...Sorry I woke you.”

“Come on, Princess. You know you never have to apologize for waking me up.”

“...I'm sorry I woke up your family.”

I tip her face toward me enough that I can kiss her forehead. “You don't need to apologize to
them, either. Their daughter's a cop who faced one of the most ruthless killers of her time and
lived. And you know as well as anyone what their son lived through. ...My folks understand
nightmares, Princess. I can promise you that.”

She doesn't answer immediately. For a long time, she just lies there in my arms and trembles
like a leaf. I settle against the pillows, stroking her hair until the tremors slow and finally cease.
As she relaxes in my embrace, I think she's fallen asleep. Then her voice floats up out of the
darkness.

“...I feel more and more like these nightmares are trying to tell me something, Jake.”

“...Like what?”

“I don't know. Not yet. But I'm terrified of the answer.”

Grace

The bed beside me is empty when I wake up, but I can hear movement in the kitchen. The smell
of coffee and bacon drift under the bedroom door, beckoning me to leave the bed, but as soon
as I lift the covers, the puff of cold air that creeps underneath makes me regret my decision. I
throw my robe over my shoulders and tie the belt around my waist, sliding my feet into my
fluffy slippers to protect them from the cold of the floor as I shuffle into the bathroom, yawning.

A quick shower under warm water perks me up, and by the time I dress and make my way
down the hall, I'm feeling perfectly cheerful. It's a feeling that only increases as the vague
sounds from the kitchen take shape. My son is babbling excitedly, and I hear him tapping
plastic dishes enthusiastically against the tray of his high chair.

“Now now, Reginald,” Aleister says with mock-sternness, “don't you think you should master
mashed bananas and strained peas before you attempt toast and coffee? No son, that's Daddy's
breakfast. And that is for Mummy's breakfast when she wakes up.”

“Mummy's awake,” I sing-song as I stroll into the kitchen. Aleister, sitting in front of the high
chair with a jar of baby food and a feeding spoon in hand, turns to smile at me.

“And what a vision she is. Isn't your mother beautiful, Reginald?”

“A-ya GAH!” Reggie declares, slapping at his tray. I laugh, coming over to kiss my husband and
son in turn.

“Did I hear something about breakfast?”

“Bacon, eggs, toast, and a bit of fruit salad. It's on the table. And there is coffee in the pot.”

“You are a treasure, sugar.” I give his cheek another quick peck and go to collect my breakfast. I
pour myself a cup of coffee and settle at the table as Aleister goes back to making sure our son
doesn't go hungry.

“Come on, Reginald. The train is pulling into the station. Choo-choo!” Reggie squeals with
delight as Aleister brings the spoonful of mashed bananas slowly through the air toward him,
opening his little mouth eagerly. “Yes, I know. You like the yummy bananas much more than
you like the peas, don't you. You are your mother's son that way. She has never appreciated the
deliciousness of peas or carrots.”

“And your father has never learned how delightful tomatoes are,” I reply blithely, grinning.
“What a silly man he is.”

“Oh, I'm silly now, am I? Reginald, do you hear the way Mummy talks to me? Such language!”

I laugh and raise my coffee cup in the direction of my boys. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweethearts.”

“Or as we know it in London, Thursday. You don't need to be anywhere today, do you?”

“No, I don't have anything specific lined up. I was just going to do some sketches. Why, do you
need to go into the office?”

“Just briefly. There are some details regarding a deal in Japan that seem to require my attention
or Estela's, and I would sooner not trouble her with it if it can be helped. Not at a time like this.”

“I understand. Not to worry. I'll be here to keep track of our little monster.”
“Now, Grace. Our son is not a monster. He is merely a rogue wrecking ball that has taken human
form.”

I laugh. “Is that true, Reggie? Are you a little wrecking ball?”

Reggie responds with an enthusiastic raspberry, making his father chuckle as he puts aside the
jars of baby food. “I'll just get him cleaned up for you before I take off.” He takes the tray off the
chair and lifts Reggie into his arms with a slight groan. “Oof. Perhaps bowling ball would be a
more apt comparison. You are getting heavy, my little man.”

I am about to reply, but the chiming of the doorbell cuts me off. Aleister pauses, turning back to
exchange a bewildered look with me.

“Who could that be at this hour?” he wonders aloud.

“I don't know. Go on and take care of Reggie. I'll see who it is.”

Aleister takes our son back into his room. I put down my coffee cup and push my chair back
from the table with a sigh as the doorbell chimes a second time.

“Yes, yes. Hold your horses, I'm coming.”

I reach the door and flip the deadbolt open. I consider taking the chain off too, but decide
against it. I pull the door open just enough to peer outside. I find myself looking into the eyes of
one of the last people I would have expected to find on my doorstep.

“...Hello, Grace.”

“...Mom...?”

Chapter 33: Days of Plenty

Summary:
It is a day to give thanks. But our heroes know they must always be on their guard

Notes:
This is officially the longest chapter in this fic as it stands. ...Enjoy!
Chapter Text

Grace
“May I come in, darling?”

The question shakes me out of my momentary stupor. “I...I suppose so.” I take the chain off the
door and pull it open, stepping aside. My mother steps inside, the heels of her pumps clicking
on the hardwood floors. I shut the door behind her. It has been awhile since I've seen her. I take
her beautiful white suede coat, trimmed with faux fur, and hang it on the coat rack by the door.
Months, at least. She has aged some in that time; a few more fine lines, a few more gray hairs.
But she is still flawlessly put together in her sophisticated royal blue dress suit and pumps,
with her hair swept back in a French twist. She is clutching a designer briefcase, with her name
engraved on the edge in an elegant serif font. I can't help but feel shabby in my sweater and
mom-jeans, standing in the foyer of a luxury London flat that has definitely lost some of its
showroom quality thanks to baby-proofing and two busy parents who can't exactly keep up
with cleaning.

“...Would you like some coffee? There's a fresh pot brewed and everything.”

“Thank you, dear, that would be lovely.”

I lead her into the kitchen, only to immediately regret my decision when I get in there and
remember what a disaster area it is. I move toward the cupboard to find a coffee cup, hoping
my body blocks the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. Not that it will make much difference with
the countertops covered in half-cleaned spills and the floors unwashed. To my horror, I turn
away from the cupboard and find I am too late to stop my mother from putting her hand down
right into the sticky remains of an apple juice disaster from yesterday morning. Aleister and I
had blotted up the amber puddles on the countertops and the floor with almost our entire
supply of clean tea towels, but we were both running late. By the time we got home, we were
both too tired to do anything more. We figured that no lives would be lost if we waited until
morning to dig out the kitchen cleanser and the mop. But then, neither of us were expecting
guests. There's a pit in my stomach as I offer my mother a hand wipe. At least we keep boxes of
those stocked in every room.

“I'm sorry about that. I was trying to fill Reggie's sippy cup with apple juice yesterday, but
somehow, I managed to drop the bottle and we didn't have time to give it a proper cleaning. I
was planning on doing that this morning...”

“I see...” My mother accepts the wipe, delicately blotting her perfectly manicured hands, and
conspicuously moving away from that area of the counter. I wince as I hear the soles of her
shoes squelch in the sticky residue on the floor. “...Have you considered hiring a bit of domestic
help? Perhaps a nanny or a housekeeper?”
“We have a several babysitters on call for when we're both working,” I say firmly. “We haven't
found that we have need of a housekeeper right now.”

“The soles of my shoes might disagree,” she quips.

“Well, the soles of your shoes don't live here,” I snap. As her eyes narrow slightly, I take a deep
breath, forcing a smile as I hand her a cup of coffee. “Why don't we go into the living room? I
can't promise it will be immaculate, but at least you're not likely to find apple juice puddles in
there.”

As we head into the living room, Aleister emerges from the bedroom with Reggie in his arms.
He smiles politely at my mother, though his gaze is lukewarm as he regards her.

“Mother Hall. I thought I heard your voice. What a surprise.”

“Aleister.” My mother and husband come together to peck each other obligingly on the cheek.
Mom smiles at Reggie, tickling him under the chin. “And Reginald Mason Rourke. How
handsome you're becoming.”

“Can you say hello to your grandmother, Reginald?” It appears that the diamond tassel earrings
dangling from my mother's earlobes have caught Reggie's eye because he squeals excitedly,
reaching for one with surprising speed. Luckily, Aleister is faster. “Now, Reginald, 'say hello'
does not mean attempt to steal her lovely earrings.”

“No harm done. I am glad that you are home. I was honestly hoping to speak with you both. Will
you join us in the living room?”

“Do you have time, sweetie?” I ask pointedly. “If you don't, I can fill you in later.”

“I am the C.E.O. Well, one of them. I can take a few extra minutes.”

We continue into the living room, where Mom sits on a cuddly toy lion when she sinks into an
armchair. She doesn't say anything about it, but she does make a very pointed face as she sets it
aside. Aleister and I sit on the sofa, with Aleister balancing Reggie on his knee.

“I am here,” my mother says, looking at Aleister, “because your father has been in contact with
me.”

Aleister looks up sharply. I feel my chest go tight, and my hand flies to his.

“You mean...recently?”

“Early in September. He wanted me to look into a former employee at Mansingh Transglobal.

The mother of your friend, Taylor Chandler.”
The silence that follows her announcement is so thick that even Reggie seems to sense that
something isn't right. He goes quiet, his chubby little face scrunching up uncertainly. When he
starts to squirm and whine, Aleister lets him down to crawl around on the soft carpet at our
feet.

“...What did you find out?” I finally manage to ask.

“Not a lot. Cassandra Chandler was a computer science major who worked as a researcher. She
died about the time I became the C.E.O. There doesn't seem to have been much that was
extraordinary about her, and it isn't exactly hard to believe that Everett Rourke would be
interested in her since his obsession with her daughter is not exactly a secret.”

“No, I suppose it isn't,” Aleister concedes. “But then why bring this information to us if you
don't think there is anything substantial to it?”

“Because for one thing, you deserve to know that your father has been in contact with me. For
another, Taylor Chandler is a friend of yours. And you two experienced Rourke's obsession
with her firsthand. You might not know much about why he was obsessed with her, but you
know more than I do.” She opens her briefcase, and pulls out a sheaf of papers, held together
with a binder clip. “Here's what I could find on her. Perhaps Taylor will be interested in it.”

“...Thank you, Mom.” I accept the papers.

“Well, I have taken enough of your time and my own. I must be off.”

“Of course. I'll walk you to the door.”

I get my mother's coat and show her out. After watching her go, I return to the living room.
Aleister is leafing absently through the papers she left us. I come up beside him to put an arm
over his shoulder.

“I think I may have to hold off on those sketches. I feel like I should go through those papers
today.”

Aleister looks up at me. “Do you think whatever's in here is that important?”

“I don't know. Just...something about this doesn't feel right. My mother was acting strangely.”

“Was she?”

“It seemed so to me...”

Aleister sighs, rising to his feet. He approaches me and takes my shoulders gently, bending to
kiss my cheek.
“I have to leave for work now, darling. Perhaps you can agree to wait until I get home so we can
go over those papers together?”

It's my turn to sigh. “You really want me to wait?”

“Yes, darling. Two heads will be more effective than one. Besides, I want you to be able to work
on your sketches today.”

“In between keeping our son out of trouble and making our flat a little more presentable?”

“Precisely. Let's worry about puzzling out the mystery of Taylor's human parent together.” He
pauses for a moment. “...Besides, if we find something, we may be tempted to call her, which
might not be entirely welcome while she is trying to make a good impression on her in-laws—
not to mention the fact that she is at least six hours behind us.”

“All right, fair.” I am quiet for a moment, frowning. “...Hey...Mom said your father contacted her
in early September. That was before they confiscated his phone, right?”

“Yes, I believe so. ...Why do you ask?”

“...Like I said. Something just doesn't feel right.”

Michelle

If I have to be at the hospital working instead of with my family on Thanksgiving, at least I'm
working the noon-to-midnight shift, which means that for once I can be the one making sure
Sean has a decent breakfast before seeing him off and crawling back into bed for a couple more
hours' sleep.

“Oatmeal,” I inform him, setting the bowl in front of him, “and whole grain toast. A nice carb-o-
licious breakfast to give you energy for the game today.”

He grins at me. “I have the best fiancée.”

I come up behind his chair to wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Your fiancée wishes she
could be at the game today cheering you on, instead of at the hospital.”

“I know, babe.” He leans back into my embrace. “But you're doing great things at the hospital.
You know how insanely proud I am of you.”
I admit I feel a smile playing around my mouth when he says that. “I know.” I kiss his cheek. “...I
hope you know I'm proud of you, too.”

“I do know. But it's really nice to hear it, too. ...Think you'll have a couple minutes to watch a
little of the game?”

“It's hard to say. You know how unpredictable a hospital can be.”

“Of course. Want me to wait up for you tonight? It's only gonna be a little after midnight when
you get home.”

“You're gonna be exhausted after the game.”

He shrugs. “I'll still wait up if you want me to. I'll rig up some device to keep me awake.”

I snort. “Some device?”

“You know, some pulley sytem connected to my head or my shoulder that will turn on the
stereo super loud if I start to nod off.”

He demonstrates, drawing an invisible pulley system in the air with his fingers, and then
pretends to be nodding off, a theatrical snore interrupted by a vocal imitation of a loud metal
riff. I laugh.

“No need to go to those kind of lengths. If you're up when I get home, I will be happy to see you.
But if you're tired, you should sleep.”

“All right, I'll sleep. If I am tired.”

“Good boy.”

“...I love you, Michelle.”

“I love you, too, Sean.” I give him another peck on the cheek, and go to sit down across from him
where my own breakfast is waiting. “Now eat your oatmeal. You've got a big game today.”

Estela

These past few weeks have been like a dream. Me and Tio Nicholas and Mom together in a
peaceful San Trobida. Having Quinn here with us only adds to the utopian atmosphere. In fact,
in the moments when the chimera wavers and worries about the world outside creep in, having
someone else who was on La Huerta with me has helped to keep panic from setting in. Besides
that, she has been a general boon to have around the house, helping with the chores and just
generally being a joy. There are moments when I worry that I am keeping her here against her
will. I promise I've told her that she doesn't have to stay if she would rather go back to her own
family, especially for Thanksgiving. But apparently, she has spoken to her parents, and
encouraged them to make Thanksgiving romantic occasion for the two of them. Since I am
clearly not holding her against her will and thus I cannot release her, the only thing I can do is
to make sure she knows how much I appreciate her presence.

On Thursday morning, I wake up early to make her pancakes. I've never been much of a cook,
but with her and Raj giving me a few lessons, I've at least overcome my fear of the kitchen
enough to follow a recipe. I prepare a breakfast tray, garnish it with a flower in a cup of water,
and carry it up to the guest bedroom where she has been staying. She's still asleep when I get
up there. To my chagrin, just my entering the room isn't enough to wake her. I linger in the
doorway with the tray in my hand, wondering whether I should wake her, come back later, or
just stay here. It seems my hesitation makes the decision for me, because after a moment or
two, Quinn starts to stir. I feel myself standing up straighter as she turns her bleary gaze on me.

“Estela?” She sits up, blinking. “What's going on?”

I clear my throat, holding out the tray. “Um...this is for you...” I wince at myself. What am I doing,
standing in the doorway, holding out the tray as if I expect her to come get it? I cross the room
as quickly as I can without spilling anything to set the tray over her lap. She smiles, laughing a
little.

“What is this?”

“...Breakfast. It's...to say thank you. For coming with me to San Trobida, and for staying with us
these past couple weeks. You have been very helpful around the house, and my mom and tio
can't say enough good things about you. So...thank you.”

“Oh, Estela, it's my pleasure. Really. Having your long-dead mother return home and revealing
the details of our vacation through hell to your uncle seems like the kind of thing the presence
of a friend could help you navigate more easily.”

“And so it has. ...And even if I don't need to thank you, I do want to.”

She pats the bed beside her. “Well, why don't you start by sitting down and helping me eat
these pancakes?”

I take a seat on the edge of the bed, pushing a small cup of warmed syrup in her direction. She
picks it up and drizzles the stuff over the pancakes.

“I was thinking...that you and I could make a day of it today. I could take you into the city and
show you some of the sights. ...What do you say?”

She grins. “I can hardly think of a better way to spend a day that begins with breakfast in bed.”
I smile back. “Good. Because I want this day to be special for you. Also, if you had said no, that
would have been decidedly awkward.”

Raj

Shooting an episode of a cooking show is never a one-day affair, but every show handles their
schedule a little bit differently. Some chefs choose to set aside a block of a few days and knock
out several episodes in a single day of shooting. That's not so practical for me, since I like to
travel for my episodes. But I still have to shoot each episode several times over before there's
enough that the wizards in the editing department can splice the best bits together into a
winning episode. By the time we have enough footage for the Rome episode, I am worn out, and
I can tell Lila is, too. Neither of us feel safe leaving her on her own, even if we are in Italy, but I
can't exactly invite her to help with the episode, either. We feel even less safe putting her in
front of a television camera. So, she's spent a lot of time just sitting around, and I know well
that boredom can be even more exhausting than work.

On the last day of shooting, we're finished before noon. I help the crew clean up, then leave the
set to look for Lila. I find her sleeping on the couch in my dressing room. I shake her shoulder
gently.

“Lila? Wakey-wakey.”

She blinks at me and yawns, stretching. “Are we done for the day?”

“We're done for the episode.”

“Mmm.” She pushes herself upright. “On to the next one?”

“In due time. But we've got a bit of a break now. About a week.”

“So, what will we do until then?”

I grin. “Something that I hope you'll like. How would you feel about a holiday in Tuscany?”

Taylor

I wake up with the sun Thanksgiving morning, only to find that Jake and his family are already
awake. I can smell cooking from downstairs. As I make my way down, I can hear the familiar
sounds of the Macy's parade broadcast coming from the television in the living room, as well as
voices from the dining room where the family has gathered for breakfast.

To my great relief, my late night awakening never becomes a topic of conversation during
breakfast. I am greeted warmly and welcomed into the meal, where they ask me how I am
feeling and if I slept well. No one questions it when I reply that I slept very well, thank you. I
make quick work of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon, and help Bernadette and Rebecca with
the breakfast dishes. We have to hustle, Bernadette says, because we don't have much time to
dawdle before we have to begin preparing dinner.

“Are there going to be many people?” I ask, meticulously loading plates into the dishwasher.

“Depends on what you consider 'many',” Rebecca replies.

“It's the usual crowd for us,” Bernadette says. “Frank's brother Pete and his girlfriend, my
brother Emile with his wife and their two boys, my mom, and a couple of our old friends who
don't have anywhere else to go for the holiday.”

“Well, that's bigger than most Thanksgivings I ever had growing up. It was usually just my aunt,
my uncle, me, and Diego. Sometimes his parents came too, but they didn't really do
Thanksgiving themselves so that wasn't often.”

“Well, you're gonna get the full McKenzie experience this year,” Rebecca quips. “And if that isn't
enough to make you regret marrying my baby brother, nothing will.”

“Oh, boy. Jake did mention it was going to be chaotic. Anything I should be forewarned about?”

“Well, you're not the only one who's meeting the family for the first time. Uncle Pete's girlfriend
is someone we've only “met” over Facebook so far.”

“She seems like a nice woman, though,” Bernadette adds. “Her name is Aubrey. I think she's
from Chicago originally. About twenty years younger than Pete, but once you get to be a certain
age, that's not much of a difference.”

“Hey, as long as everyone is legal and consenting, I don't pass judgment,” I remark. “Well, not
moral judgment, anyway. I admit to having my opinions on whether what people are doing is
altogether wise, but only when it involves people I know well.”

“Sound policy,” Rebecca says approvingly. “Anyway, you'll be in good company with Aubrey.
Now, about Uncle Emile and Aunt Lorraine...”

***

Once the dishes are done, I head back upstairs to get dressed. I've packed a long floral-printed
sundress with an empire waist and a matching shrug. I add some subtle jewelry, a touch of
makeup, and sweep my hair back into a French braid. I brush my teeth and head back
downstairs, where the parade has been replaced on the television with a football game.

“Is this the Condors' game?” I ask, coming to sit beside Jake on the couch.

“They're not playing for a couple hours,” he answers, taking my hand and kissing it. “But don't
worry. I made sure Pop knows we're die-hard Condors fans. ...You look beautiful, by the way.”

I grin and kiss his cheek. “I'll do then?”

“Absolutely. You're gonna knock 'em all dead.”

It's not even noon when the McKenzie guests start arriving. The first is an old neighbor, Sidney
Everly. To describe her as an elderly widow calls up an image that is quite contrary to her
actual presence. The moment I am introduced as Jake's wife, she squeals and pulls me into a
hug that can only be described as crushing. Clearly, her slender, stooped appearance belies her
strength.

“So someone finally snapped up Jake McKenzie! And he's put a bun in her oven!”

“Okay, okay, Sidney, don't swarm her,” Jake chides, gently but firmly separating us. “Remember
she is pregnant.”

“Oh, phooey, she's not going to pop,” Sidney scoffs, but she doesn't try to hug me again. “All
right, Bernadette, put me in the kitchen and set me to work!”

Next to arrive is Jesse Atwood, an equally animated bachelor who comes with a violin case and
tray of exquisite-looking handmade chocolate eclairs topped with berries and dusted with
powdered sugar. He is quickly followed by Bernadette's younger brother and sister-in-law,
Emile and Lorraine Landry, with their teenage boys, Neil and Ethan. Seventeen-year-old Neil is
friendly and seems eager to get to know everyone in the room. Ethan is fifteen years old, and
I'm not sure if he's going through a surly teenage phase or if he's just overwhelmed by the
number of people present, but he arrives with earbuds firmly in his ears and barely glances up
from the game he's playing on his phone when I'm introduced. The family doesn't seem phased
by this, which tells me that whatever it is, it's not personal, so I leave him be.

Finally, Frank's brother Pete shows up with his girlfriend Aubrey, a short, slim woman in her
late forties with dark brown hair cut just above her shoulders and styled in a fluffy perm. She
grins when we're introduced and shakes my hand. There is relief in her soft gray eyes.

“Glad to meet you, Taylor. I think you and I are the major curiosities here tonight.” She leans in
a little closer. “Though I think you're probably a little more of a curiosity than I am. No offense.”

“None taken. Between my backstory and my baby bump I expect to be fielding a lot of questions
tonight.”
“Come on, everyone!” Sidney calls from the kitchen. “There's a feast to be prepared! Anyone
who's helping with the cooking, in the kitchen! Everyone else--”

“Everyone else will please heed my instructions and not Sidney's!” Bernadette says firmly,
though I can see a smile on her lips. “Taylor, sha, maybe you can help serve up some cider and
snacks?”

Sidney, Bernadette, Rebecca, Jesse, and Emile take over the kitchen, preparing mostly
sidedishes while Frank and Pete take turkey-duty outside to the grill. I spend a little while
running cider, beer, and platters of appetizers out to the living room and to the men out by the
grill. To my surprise, Ethan immediately comes to help me, though he doesn't take his earbuds
out. Jake has been in the living room chatting with Neil. About my third trip out to the living
room, he catches my hand.

“Hey, Princess. I know Mom and ol' Sidney can turn into a pair of Major Generals when they're
cooking together, but don't let 'em push you around.”

I smirk. “You really think they can push me around?”

He actually seems to consider that for a moment before smiling. “I guess not. But don't you
push yourself around, either. Promise me you'll rest if you get tired?”

“Promise. But if you're really concerned, you could come give me a hand.”

He chuckles. “Okay, fair.”

A few minutes later, he and I are sitting at the kitchen table together and peeling potatoes. After
a short while, Neil, Ethan, and Aubrey come to join us. Neil dominates the conversation for
awhile, filling everyone in on his preparations for college. But when the conversation starts to
reach a lull, Ethan surprises me by filling the silence.

“Do you know if your baby is a boy or a girl yet?” he asks me.

“Not yet,” I reply. “We're going to learn that next week.”

“Have you done the wedding ring test yet?” Sidney asks.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “The what?”

“You tie the mom-to-be's wedding ring on a piece of thread and dangle it over her belly. If it
swings back and forth like a pendulum, it's a boy. If it swings in circles, it's a girl.”

“Are you sure?” Aubrey asks skeptically. “I'd always heard it was the other way around.”

“I can look it up on my phone,” Neil offers.

“Oh, there's really no need,” I chuckle. “I don't have a wedding ring.”

Sidney gasps. “You mean Jake didn't even get you a ring?!”

“...Uh...we weren't exactly married in a traditional ceremony.”

“We have a handfasting ribbon,” Jake adds. He briefly explains the handfasting ceremony,
naturally replacing anything suspiciously Vaanti with something that sounds more like it was
thought up by college students. “I still have that ribbon.”

“You do?” I'm startled and I don't hide it. “You've never mentioned that to me. Where is it?”

“I had it framed to keep it preserved. I put it in a safe place at my grandparents' place. ...I never
thought of going to get it when we moved to California because...well...I had you back. And there
was a lot going on.”

“Ohhh! You should get it as long as you're in Pearl River!” Sidney exclaims. “It's not like you're
far from your grandparents' place.”

“That's actually not a bad idea,” Jake concedes.

“I wouldn't mind seeing that ribbon again,” I agree.

“Maybe you could do the ring test with that, just with a regular ring,” Ethan suggests. “Maybe
the ribbon will have the same kind of...energy you need.”

“Oh, there's no need for that test,” Bernadette scoffs. “She's carrying high. It's a girl.”

“Well, the old lady on the plane yesterday agrees with you,” Rebecca snickers.

“Hey, we're not listening to the old lady on the plane!” Jake says firmly.

“Why, what did the old lady on the plane say?” Neil asks eagerly.

I laugh at his enthusiasm. “Well, I ended up getting airsick while we were landing, so I was
throwing up into a paper bag while everyone was getting their things.” I go on, describing the
old woman and her daughter, to the amusement of everyone except Jake.

“The old bat is wrong, by the way,” he grumbles. “Taylor looks as beautiful as ever.”

“I have to agree with Jake,” Sidney declares. “If that baby's stolen your good looks, then you
must be too pretty for anyone's good. I think you've got a boy.”

“Whether or not her looks have been stolen, girls do cause more sickness,” Bernadette insists.
“What have your cravings been like?” Sidney asks.

“Well...peanut butter's been the big one...” l

“There, you see? Protein. That means it's a boy.”

“Not American peanut butter, sha,” Bernadette scoffs. “You know how much sugar is in
American peanut butter?”

“Well, I have been especially fond of peanut butter cookies,” I point out.

This goes on for awhile. Everyone chimes in with the various wives' tales they've heard for
predicting the baby's sex. They ask me about my moods, hair growth, breakouts, stretchmarks,
and whatever else they can think of. Neil even looks up a Chinese sex-prediction chart on his
phone that asks for my birthday and the month we conceived in, which my best guess places in
July. That chart tells me I'm having a girl, which pleases Bernadette. Of course, no matter what
the wives' tales say, she remains convinced I'm having a girl. Sidney is of the opposite opinion,
and Rebecca seems to agree with her.

“Y'all are being ridiculous!” Jake declares, exasperated. “Even once we know the sex, it's not like
that's going to predict their personality or anything like that.”

“Jake's got the right of it,” Jesse agrees, stirring the gravy on the stove. “Maybe y'all should keep
the sex secret until the baby's a few months old.”

“Are you gonna keep the name secret, too?” Sidney scoffs.

“We wouldn't have to,” Jake retorts. “We've already chosen the name, and it's unisex.”

“I hate unisex names.”

“Sidney, you have a unisex name!”

“That don't mean I like it!”

“Well, girl or boy, our baby is River Skye McKenzie, and that's that.”

Sidney considers that. “Well, okay. That's a good name.”

“Good for a boy, but even better for a girl,” Bernadette declares haughtily.

“You're impossible, Mom,” Jake sighs.

“Yes, I am. Now go see if your Pop needs help with the turkey.”
Grayson

I prepare a small meal to take to my father for our Thanksgiving dinner. Well, actually it's more
like a Thanksgiving lunch, since I am going to be eating with him early in order to make it to
Rochelle's apartment on time. I did tell him I had been invited to another dinner later in the
day. He didn't ask where I was going, but I suspect he knows. I have never made my affection
for Tahira a secret, which does kind of worry me now. But all I can really do is swear that I will
never let myself be used against her.

I arrive at the mansion where I grew up—the one that now serves as my father's prison—and
make my way up the walk, clutching the cooler full of Thanksgiving food. I put it down to ring
the doorbell and bounce lightly on the balls of my feet while I wait, breathing warm air into my
cupped hands. I should have worn gloves, but I was running late getting out of my apartment,
and by the time I thought of it, it was just too late to go back. The seconds melt into each other,
and I am just about to ring the bell again when my father answers.

“You're late, Grayson.”

“...I'm sorry, dad. The turkey took longer than I was expecting.” I heft the cooler with a grunt
and all but waddle through the front door. Dad raises an eyebrow at the cooler.

“What's in there?”

“Food. Thanksgiving lunch. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and a
pumpkin pie. Traditional fare. I also bought a bottle of wine.”

“Hmm. Anything that will require reheating?”

“Most of it hasn't had that much time to get cold. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to warm the
vegetables.”

“Very well. I suppose you had better bring that stuff right into the kitchen. I know how eager
you are to get onto your other dinner.”

I grit my teeth, needled by the thinly-veiled barb in his words. “Well, it isn't like I'm going to eat
and run,” I assure him, trying not to sound annoyed.

“Of course not. Shall we eat off the fine china?”

While the food rewarms, we take the our time setting the dining room table. We spread out a
white tablecloth of Irish linen with matching placemats and napkins. We lay out the silver
cutlery and the antique china plates that I can remember adorning the holiday tables of my
childhood. Each plate is uniquely painted with pictures of various fruits and flowers in
beautiful pastel colors. In a moment of nostalgia, I claim the one with the ripe peaches
surrounded by raspberries for myself. That one was always my favorite. My father doesn't
comment on my choice, but I do see him smile fondly at the plate for a moment. He lights a pair
of beeswax candles in crystal candleholders. I carve the turkey in the kitchen and arrange it on
a platter. Then we lay out the food and take our seats. For a moment, neither of us move.

“...Do you think we should say grace?” I ask hesitantly.

“I suppose.”

“We don't have to,” I say quickly. “It's only that it's tradtional...”

Dad doesn't respond. He pulls the bottle of red Zinfandel toward him and snatches up the
winged corkscrew. I wince a little as he jams the sharp end of the screw into the cork, but I
make myself focus on how much the corkscrew looks like a little person or a human-shaped
robot with two long arms. As dad twists the robot's head, it raises its arms as if in some stiff,
jerky dance. And then as Dad pushes its arms down, it detatches itself from the bottle, taking
the cork with it. Dad places it aside with the cork still attached and picks up the bottle.

“Say when,” he instructs me as he tips the bottle over my glass. Dark red liquid flows from the
bottle's mouth and sloshes in the basin of my wineglass. I cut off the flow at half a glass. Dad
raises an eyebrow at me for a moment before moving to pour a larger glass for himself. He sets
down the bottle and begins filling his plate with turkey, potatoes, stuffing, and beans. After a
moment, I do the same.

“I suppose,” he says at last as he picks up his knife and fork and begins slicing his turkey into
bite-sized pieces, “that you shouldn't have too much to drink if you are going to be driving to
Tahira's dinner before long.”

“...No,” I agree. “That wouldn't be responsible.”

He pauses, glancing sidelong at me. “...It is Tahira you will be spending the evening with, isn't
it?”

“Among others. Her mother will be there, and Dax Darcisse and Poppy Patel.”

“But Tahira is the one you really want to see.”

“Is that your oh-so-subtle way of asking if she and I are finally seeing each other?” I quip,
hoping to disguise my discomfort with this line of questioning.

“It hardly seems like the best idea to be dating someone you work with. Much less someone
who works for you.”

“We're both smart people, Dad. We know how to keep our personal lives separate from work.”
“Don't be naive, Grayson. No one actually knows how to do that.”

I feel myself stiffen. Deep breaths, Grayson. You don't want a fight to sour your mood before
you see Tahira.

“Well, we'll just do our best then, and deal with any problems as they come up.”

“...You know what she is, son.”

I almost drop my fork as my veins turn to ice, but I manage to keep it together. I lower my fork
to my plate, its prongs still sporting a lump of mashed potatoes.

“What she is, Dad, is a woman I care for deeply, and have done since we were in college
together. She is smart and fun and kind and—“

“Powerful,” Dad adds. He puts down his fork and knife, leaning back and tenting his fingers. He
fixes me with a penetrating stare. “Let's not beat around the bush, Grayson. Tahira is
Dragonness. You know she is.”

I sigh. I consider feigning surprise, but it's probably too late for that. Besides, I'm not sure how
much good it would do. Is it really that much more dangerous for my father to know that I
know her identity when he already knows it himself? Suddenly, I feel exhausted.

“...What do you want me to say, Dad?”

“I only want you to be honest with me.”

“...Then yes. I know who she is. And I know you know, too. ...I also know the real reason you
attacked Northbridge was because you wanted to use her power to bring Mom back.”

“And I suppose she told you that?”

“Yes! She did! Are you going to deny it?”

“No, in fact. I am not going to deny it. Nor will I deny that my plan did not work out as I had
expected.”

“And what were you expecting?”

He sighs, letting his hands drop onto the table to rest on either side of his plate. He picks at a bit
of turkey skin hanging off the edge of the plate.

“I had believed the power to bring Helena back existed in the world on the other side of the
Prism Gate. ...The world where Dragonness was born. I had hoped that if we managed to make
it there, we would find her people. Find a the power necessary. Alas, that was not the case.”
I don't answer. I pick up my fork and knife and tear into the turkey on my plate, covering my
silence by stuffing my mouth with the meat. Dad watches me eat for a moment.

“...Do you not approve, Grayson?”

I choke down a mouthful. It gets stuck at the back of my throat, but I force it down with a deep
drink of wine. I set my glass down and stare at my plate.

“...Mom is gone, Dad.”

“She doesn't have to be.”

“Yes! She does! She's dead!”

My father's eyes narrow, his expression darkening. “You watch your mouth, son.”

“I'm only saying what's true! Mom is dead! She has been dead for years! It's not like I'm happy
about it, but it's a fact!”

“All this from the boy who wasn't willing to do what needed to be done in Bayside for fear that
some people would have to pick themselves up by their bootstraps and move on.”

“Dad, you were talking about displacing living people from their homes! Do you realize how
many lives you snuffed out on the day you decided to attack Northbridge?! Eight! Eight people
died because you can't let Mom rest!”

My father eyes me steadily. “I could bring them back, too.”

I feel a chill cross my shoulders. “...What...? What are you...?”

“There is a way, Grayson.”

“Dad, no...please...” I reach across the table to cover his hand with mine. “Let it go. Please. Please
don't make Tahira suffer to bring Mom back.”

“I don't mean Tahira. ...There is another way.”

I can feel my heart spasming in my throat. “...Dad...please. I don't know if you just never grieved
Mom properly or what, but...all I've wanted for years is for us to be a family!”
Dad puts his other hand on top of mine, grasping it firmly. “And we will be! As soon as I can find
the power to bring her back, we--”
“No!” I pull my hands back sharply, feeling tears burning in my eyes. “Not us and Mom! Mom
is gone! I mean you and me! You're still my father! I am still your son! We're still a family! Or we
could be if you would let Mom go and look at me!”
For a moment, I think I actually see genuine remorse in my father's face. It's only a flicker, just
for an instant, but even when it vanishes, his expression is softer somehow. Gentler.

“...You don't understand,” he says softly.

“No. No, Dad, I don't. ...I don't understand why you turned your back on me when I needed you
most. How one day we could be so close and you could show me so much affection...and then as
soon as Mom was in the ground, it was like you turned cold as her grave. For years, I thought
you had stopped loving me. For years, I thought I had done something wrong.” I can't hold back
a few tears as the scared little boy I used to be comes to the surface of my mind, bringing his
hurt, his abandonment, his confusion. “I realize now you were just in pain, but...but the fact is
you still haven't dealt with that pain. ...This...isn't how Mom would have wanted us to be to each
other, Dad. She would have wanted us to hold each other. Support each other in her absence.”
“She would have wanted to be with us!”
“Of course she would have! But she isn't! God dammit, for all you accuse me of not being
realistic, you can't even accept...” I trail off, my voice strangled by unshed tears that clog my
throat. My head drops into my hands on the table.

I feel a touch on my shoulder, the palm of my father's hand resting gently on my back. I don't
shrug him off, even though my head tells me I should. To have my father resting a hand on my
shoulder to comfort me...it's like a mouthful of water to a man who has crossed the desert. Such
unspeakable relief. And yet...so far from enough.

“My son...my boy...my child. Please, listen to me. I know I failed you. In so many ways. I failed
your mother, too. But that is what I am trying to fix.”

Now I do shrug him off.

“No. No, Dad. What you're doing isn't fixing anything.” I lift my head, but I don't look at my
father. “Until you get help, we're never going to be the family Mom wanted us to be. I'm sorry.”

He knows what I'm implying. That when he comes to trial, I am going to argue in favor of
having him committed. But to my surprise, his only reaction now is a sigh.

“...It's okay, Grayson. It will be okay. I promise. I know how to fix everything now. When I am
through, it will be as if all those lonely years never even happened.”

He goes back to his dinner, clearing his plate in silence. I look down at the meal going cold on
my plate, the moist turkey, lumpy mashed potatoes and oily green beans obscuring the
delicately painted peaches and raspberries. I don't feel like eating anymore. Something about
Dad's reaction has me more unsettled than ever.

Poppy
“Come on, Dax! We're going to be late! Rochelle said dinner is at three o'clock, and it's now
2:20!”

“Okay! Okay! I'm coming!” Dax sighs, reluctantly putting aside his project. His eyes linger on the
tiny object for a moment before he sighs again and starts to straighten up his workstation.

“Is that the thing you told me about?” I ask. “The hologram thing?”

“That's it.”

“How's it coming?”

“Well, actually. Really well. I even think I should have it ready to present by New Year's Eve.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I'm impressed. Considering you've only been working on it for a month
now.”

“What can I say? I'm motivated. Also, the technology involved already exists, it's just a matter of
making it more portable and easier to disguise.”

I put my arms around him, kissing his cheek. “That's a really nice thing you're doing for them,
sweetie. I'm proud of you.”

He leans into my embrace, going quiet for a moment. “...I started to imagine what he
described...being trapped on the outside...while...” He swallows. “...If it were you...or Tahira. I'm
closer to the two of you than I've ever been to anyone. ...If one of you were hurt or sick and I
was stuck on the outside...”

“Well, if you can pull this off, that won't be something they have to worry about.”

“I can pull it off,” he says with determination. “I know I can.”

“I know you can, too. Now come on. I am not going to be late for Rochelle's famous taffy-apple
salad.”

Zahra

It's another jolly holiday at the Hsiao household. And I promise I'm not actually saying that
ironically. I actually like my boyfriend's family, and I will readily admit that I am very, very
lucky that way. Far from being what some racially insensitive douches would imagine, Kira and
Huan Hsiao are not actually super strict, conservative “tiger parents,” like Asian parents tend to
be on TV. A more accurate description of them would be snarky hippy goofballs. Well...hippies
who still eat meat, I guess. So maybe not hippies.

But they are animal lovers. Their house is a crazy menagerie of four cats Nikky, Snickerdoodle,
Tootle, and Buttercup; a German shepherd/collie mix named Tiffany; Mindy and George, a pair
of rabbits; a parakeet named Tinker; and a ball python, hilariously named Monty—particularly
hilarious because the python in question is female. We humans finish our Thanksgiving feast in
the early afternoon, and Kira and Huan immediately set to work making sure the animals get
their own. The cats are the most insistent, twining around Kira's ankles and yowling as she
dishes Fancy Feast on top of Meow Mix and garnishes it with Temptations treats and catnip.
And I know I've been staying at their place too long because I have started to recognize brands
of cat food.

“Yes, yes, my little darlings,” Kira sings. “Food is coming!”

“Good god,” I groan. “Those things are cute when they're all purry and keeping my toes warm at
night, but they are so friggin' noisy when they're hungry!”

“They're not that different from human babies that way,” Kira quips, carrying two double-
bowls of catfood to the placemat on the floor in the corner. The cats immediately go quiet,
digging into their feast. Kira calls out to Tiffany, who has been waiting patiently on the floor by
the kitchen door. At the sound of her name, the dog leaps up on her paws, her tongue lolling out
of her mouth as her tail starts to wag. Kira reaches into a plastic bag labled “Pampered Pets”
and pulls out what I realize has to be a dog treat, but which looks enough like a cupcake that I
want to eat it myself.

“Aww, you got Tiffany a pupcake!” Joey laughs.

“Of course! They're her favorite special occasion treats.”

Kira makes Tiffany sit and lie down before placing the treat a few feet in front of her nose.
Tiffany licks her chops, her tail thumping eagerly, but she obediently waits for the signal before
attacking her pupcake, wolfing it down in two bites.

“Oh, hey!” Joey leaps up from the table. “Let's go play Road From Xanadu! We gotta finish it
before you guys go back to Northbridge!”

Craig pushes back from the table, stretching his arms over his head. “Nothing like video games
after Thanksgiving dinner,” he agrees. “I'm in.”

Joey comes around to grab my arm, tugging insistently. “Come on, Zahra! We can't play without
you since you're Amaya!”

“Well, you could make her an NPC,” I point out, even as I get to my feet.

“But then we'd have to start over!”

“Well, we can't have that. Let's go.”

The truth is, though, I'm a little reluctant to play. Road From Xanadu is this obscure RPG game
set in this weird dimension where a bunch of people from various other dimensions and
alternate timelines end up. From what I can gather, it's basically a dimension converging on all
other dimensions. The main character is a badass warrior woman with weather magic whose
whole mission is to get back to her own dimension in order to prevent a horrific disaster from
killing her family. Along the way, she's tormented by visions of a past life that seem to be
hinting that the disaster was actually an attack by someone from a past that she can't
remember. It all feels a little too much like AU La Huerta for me to be totally comfortable, but
Joey is super into it, so I've been trying to hide my misgivings.

We head into the living room where the fireplace is going, turn on the TV and the game console,
and curl up on the couch with Joey wedged between us. The game loads up and the menu
flickers up onto the screen in front of us. We search for the save marked ZCJ and load up our
game. I frown as my character shows up on the screen, but without Craig or Joey's, and with a
completely dark background.

“Wait...where were we again?”

“Illusory Cities,” Joey reminds me. “Field of Mirrors. Remember? We're trapped in the mirrors,
and you have to get us out.”

“Oh...right...”

So my character wanders through a field of mirrors where her friends are trapped inside their
dreams, trying to wake them up so they can move on to collect the next item in their fetch quest
to build the portal that will take them back to her dimension. Craig and Joey yell hints and
encouragement, and finally, I manage to break everyone out.

“Dude, Amaya is totally falling in love with Felix,” Craig declares, grinning. “I knew I chose the
right character.”

“I bet they kiss before we stop playing tonight,” Joey agrees.

“You talkin' about Felix and Amaya or Craig and me? Because if it's the latter, you'll definitely
win that bet.”

“Hey!” Joey holds up a hand in front of my face. “No kissing over my head. If you wanna kiss,
you gotta warn me so I can move.”

Of course, by this point Buttercup has jumped into my lap and made herself comfortable,
tucking her feet underneath her body and laying her head on my knee. I know from experience
that she won't move until forced to by either her bladder or mine.
“I don't think that's happening any time soon, kiddo,” I sigh. “Okay, let's get back to it. We gotta
find something called 'Wild Time'...”

Tahira

By a quarter to three, everyone has arrived at my mother's apartment except Grayson. My last
three texts have gone unanswered, and I'm starting to get anxious, though I try to distract
myself by setting the table. Finally, I feel a vibration in the pocket of my jeans, accompanied by
the chime of my text alert. I fish my phone out of my pocket and read the message.
Grayson: Waiting outside. Am I late??
I exhale, feeling an easy smile curve my lips as reliefs flood through me in soothing waves. I
thumb out a response:
Right on time. I'll come down to let you in.
I call over my shoulder to let Mom know where I'm going before I rush out into the hallway and
down the stairs. Grayson is waiting outside the front door with a bunch of flowers in one hand
and a bottle of wine tucked under the opposite arm. I grin as I hold the door open for him.

“As much as presents are appreciated, don't think I haven't noticed that you can't hug me while
you're holding those.”

Stepping into the foyer of the building, Grayson immediately sets the flowers and wine on an
end table and pulls me in for a fierce, needful kiss, dipping me slightly in his arms. I melt into
his embrace, raising my arms to wind around his neck as I taste his mouth. He tastes like he
brushed his teeth just recently. Finally, he straightens, bringing me with him, and reluctantly
breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on mine.
“Okay, I forgive you. ...Trying to recreate V-J Day in Time Square ?”

“...I love you, Tahira.” His voice is a whisper, and there's a weight to it that puts a lump in the pit
of my stomach.

“I love you, too, Grayson. But...are you all right? Did lunch with your dad not go well?”

“I have to tell you something,” he murmurs, his eyes still closed. “Something Dad said has been
worrying me since he said it. But...I don't want to spoil the holiday. Just promise me you won't
let me leave without telling you tonight.”

My first impulse is actually to say 'okay', push his words to the back of my mind, and get on
with my holiday. But even as I consider it, I know that I'll never be able to concentrate on
having a good time with that hanging over my head.
“What do you mean? What did he say?” When he hesitates, I take his face in my hands, turning
it toward me. “Please, Grayson. Don't hold back. I'd rather you just say it than leave me to
imagine the worst.”

He hesitates another moment. A knock at the lobby door makes us both jump. We turn to look
out the clear glass door and find a man balancing a foiled-draped casserole dish in one hand
and waving at us with the other. His wife and two young children stand behind him, bundled up
and bouncing against the bite of the chilly November air. He gestures to the doorknob. Grayson
clears his throat, blushing as he pushes the door open. The small family scurries into the
warmth of the lobby and toward the elevator. He sighs.

“We shouldn't talk out here,” he mumbles, not meeting my eyes. “Let's get somewhere we can
talk privately.”

“...Yeah. Okay. Maybe it can wait until after dinner.”

He smiles, but it looks a little forced. Then his eyes light up and he scoops up the bouquet he
had placed on the side table, placing it in my arms carefully as if it were a swaddled infant.

“Sorry I'm later than expected, by the way. I stopped to pick those up on the way.”

I can't help but smile as I regard the colorful bouquet in my arms, pink roses and miniature
carnations arranged amidst snowy white chrysanthemums, yellow Peruvian lilies, lavender,
statice, and huckleberry. I put my nose in the armful of flora and inhale a fragrant blend of
perfumes.

“They're absolutely beautiful.”

His smile is genuine again as he casually takes up the wine bottle and offers me his hand.

“I couldn't resist a few roses,” he says, “but I've always thought roses alone were a little...well,
boring. If I'm going to bring someone flowers, I want something colorful.”

“I approve of your choice.”

Everyone else clearly approves of it too, if their gushing reaction when we get back up to
Mom's apartment is any indication. While Mom is busy hunting for a vase, and Dax and Poppy
are helping her find the ladle she was looking for a moment ago, I see an opportunity and
impulsively decide to to take it. I take Grayson by the hand and pull him into the bedroom. I
shut the door, pressing the lock down for good measure.

“So, what were you going to say about your Dad?”

He shifts uncomfortably, looking cornered. “I...thought you said it could wait until after dinner.”

“I know. But I also said I'd rather know than spend dinner imagining the worst.”
For a moment he is quiet, and I think he is going to protest again that it should wait until after
dinner. But then he nods.

“...We got into a fight, which will probably not come as much of a surprise. He knows that I
know who you are, by the way. I didn't tell him, but he guessed and I didn't know how to deny
it, or if it would even do any good.”

“It probably wouldn't have,” I agree. “It's okay. We'll deal with it. Was that all?”

“No. ...We were arguing about his obession with bringing Mom back. I was begging him not to
make you suffer for it. ...He said that he didn't have to use you. That there was another way.
Some of the things he said...it started to sound like he wasn't just talking about bringing Mom
back. He was talking about rewriting history so she never died at all.”

I feel an electric chill skitter down my spine. “...That...that sounds like...”

“I know. ...I can't help but wonder if he's managed to learn something about the Janus Project.”

Aleister

I come home in the evening to find that the flat has been scrubbed top to bottom. In the sitting
room, the evening news flickers on the television, the volume turned to something just barely
audible. My wife is curled up on the sofa under a throw blanket, her glasses set aside on the
coffee table beside the baby monitor. She appears to be dozing lightly, and as I approach, I can
see from the screen on the baby monitor that my son is asleep as well, contentedly sucking his
thumb in his crib. I smile, kneeling beside Grace and bending to kiss the top of her head. She
stirs and stretches at my touch, smiling up at me.

“Hey, honey,” she says around a yawn. “There's tuna noodle casserole in the refridgerator. I
already ate, but it wouldn't take much to heat it up.”

“You're a treasure,” I reply. She reaches over to fumble for her glasses, and I guide them to her
hand. “I brought home macroons for dessert. Can I fix you a plate with some tea?”

“That would be heavenly. Could you also give me a hand getting off the couch?”

I chuckle, standing and offering my hand. She takes it, groaning a little as I help pull her to her
feet. Once standing, she flops theatrically against my chest, resting her head on my shoulder
and pretending to snore. I laugh.

“I am not surprised you're so tired. The flat looks beautiful.” I drape one of her arms over my
shoulders and wind the other around her waist, pulling her close to my side as if I am helping
her walk with an injured leg. “But I hope this was not just because your mother sat on a cuddly
toy this morning.”

“There are some ways Mom can still get to me,” she admits. “...But I was also trying to keep busy
so I wouldn't be tempted to peek at the files she left us. Besides, the flat needed a good scrub. I
just hope my back doesn't regret it in the morning.”

I guide her to a kitchen chair and stand behind her for a moment, rubbing her shoulders. “I'll
tell you what, darling. Why don't you have a nice hot bath while I have my supper, and then
we'll look at the files together over tea and macaroons. Deal?”

“Deal.”

***

Grace takes her time in the bath, and when I finish dinner, we both get into our pajamas. Curled
up on the sofa with a pleasant fire going, two cups of hot tea and a tray of macaroons, it's
almost easy to forget what we're actually looking for with the documents spread out across our
laps. Not that we seem to be finding much that is obviously incriminating.

“I am quite surprised to hear myself say this, but it seems Taylor's mother was in fact quite an
ordinary woman.”

“Well, I don't know about 'ordinary,'” Grace remarks. “According to everything here, she was a
genius at computer science. She headed nearly eighty percent of Mansingh Transglobal's
computer science projects in 1995.”

She passes me the page she's looking at, and I skim over it. A few project names jump out at me.

“ 'Project Jupiter'...'The Trojan Project'...Anything with a Greco-Roman theme might bear

looking into further. With the Trojan Project, I'm inclined to guess it had something to do with
computer viruses. ...Perhaps an attempt to develop some sort of antivirus software.”

“Or digital condoms,” Grace suggests, grinning. I snort, poking her shoulder lightly.

“Trojan always was a terrible name for a condom.”

“Huh...now this is interesting.”

“What is?”

Grace holds up the page in front of her. “Apparently Cassandra Chandler worked on one of the
most advanced digital painting/rendering programs of the early nineties. She won an award for
her own digital art. And...oh! I think Mom included samples...” She turns to a few glossy photo
prints. “Wow. This is beautiful.”
She passes me a picture of a digitally rendered sunset over the ocean. “Impressive. The colors,
the shading...very advanced for the early nineties.”

“And look at this moonscape. It's so lifelike, it's like looking at a photo.”

“Clearly, she was very talented. ...Perhaps we should send this to Taylor. I'm sure she would like
to have some piece of her mother to hold...on...to...Grace...?”

Grace is staring at the photo in front of her, her dark eyes wide. I peer over at the picture and
feel my breath catch in my throat. It's another beautifully rendered piece of digital art, a
portrait depicting a young woman posed beneath a palm tree. It is as clear as a photograph, or a
Holbein portrait. Her blue eyes, golden blonde hair, her pale skin...

“Good heavens...but...that's...”

“Yeah,” Grace agrees. “It's Taylor.”

Michelle

It's hard to have a totally good day when you're working at a hospital. Even if none of your own
patients die, it's hard to ignore the fact that people do die there every day. And yet, at the same
time, people are born there every day, too. Lives are saved, or changed for the better with
surgeries that improve quality of life. It's difficult to have a totally good day, but if you know
where to look, it's hard to have a totally bad one, too. For me, today managed to even out. I was
busy, which kept my shift from dragging too much, but now I'm definitely feeling it. Now, what I
really want is to go home, put on my pajamas and curl up in bed with Sean so I can fall asleep to
the sound of his breathing.

I finally get home at nearly a quarter to one. There's a note in Sean's handwriting taped to the
door of our apartment when I get there:

Hey, Beautiful. Left something on the coffee table for you. Love you! --Sean.

I smile, folding the note and tucking it into the pocket of my jacket. The first year we were
dating back at Hartfeld, he was always getting me little gifts to leave in my room at the sorority
house when we were both too busy for a real date night. They were never expensive, but they
were always meaningful and romantic. A refridgerator magnet with my name on it, a caduceus
keychain, a bunch of lilacs from the hedge that grew on campus, my favorite spinach bread
from the bakery in town, or a stick of rock candy from the old-fashioned candy shop next door.
Lately, he seems to have picked the practice up again. Except now, I try to reciprocate more
often.

The apartment is dark when I get inside. I turn on the light in the foyer, slip off my shoes and
hang my coat in the closet. I make my way into the living room and switch on the floor lamp. On
the coffee table, an Easter basket has been lined with tissue paper and repurposed to hold a
small collection of bath items—body wash, lotion, and spray that all appear to be the same
scent; an orange-infused sugar scrub for my hands and feet, and two bath bombs. I pop open
the body wash and inhale the subtly sweet aroma of orange blossom, chamomile, and vanilla,
sighing rapturously. I'm going to get Sean something really special to thank him for this. Some
nice cologne or a new duffle bag for away games...or maybe a gift certificate for a massage at my
favorite spa. I reach into the basket to pull out the bath bombs and hold them to my nose. As I
do, a sticky note that had been attached to one of the fragrant spheres comes loose and flutters
to the ground. I pick it up, squinting slightly to make out the writing in the somewhat dim light
of the floor lamp:

Hi, Beautiful! =) Turn on the TV and press play! Don't adjust the volume! Love you! – Sean

I pick up the remote and press the power button. The TV flickers to life, and a frozen image of
Sean in his Condors' uniform appears on the screen. I recognize the Condors' home stadium
behind him, and on the edge of the screen, I can make out the hand of a sportscaster holding up
a microphone. I press play.
“Sean, do you have any final thoughts before the game gets underway today?”
The volume is loud enough to make me jump a little, worried that I'm going to wake Sean. But,
since his note explicitly told me not to adjust the volume, I resist the urge. On the screen, Sean
smiles warmly into the camera.
“First of all, I just want to wish a happy Thanksgiving to my amazing fiancee, Dr. Michelle Nguyen.
She couldn't be at the game today because she's busy being an amazing doctor at the hospital. But
if you're watching, babe, I just want to tell you that I'm so proud of you and I love you with my
whole heart.”
The big light flicks on overhead, making me jump. I turn to see Sean smiling at me from the
doorway that leads into the kitchen.

“We won today,” he says. I smile, pausing the recording and going to kiss him.

“That's wonderful. And thank you for the gifts. But why are you still awake? You must be
exhausted.”

He shrugs, kissing me back and lacing his fingers at the small of my back. “I had a nice long nap
after the game. I wanted to be awake when you got home. I've got a little surprise for you.”
“Another one? I know I was bummed about working on Thanksgiving, but you don't want me to
get spoiled.”

“And what if I do?” he counters with mock-haughtiness. I snort.

“Well, in that case, who am I to argue?”

He keeps one arm around my waist as he leads me through the kitchen to the dining room. As
we approach, I realize that I can see candlelight flickering inside. The first thing I notice when I
round the corner and Sean turns up the lights is Tricia, grinning from her seat at the end of the
table. The table is spread with my favorite tablecloth, decorated with a centerpiece of pillar
candles draped with evergreen branches, pinecones, and clementines. Though the table is
crowded with chafing dishes and a decanter filled with some kind of spiced cider, they've
managed to find room for three place-settings. Delicious smells that had been previously
masked by the scent of the bath bombs in the living room fill the air. Tricia gets up, coming to
fold me in a warm embrace.

“Happy Thanksgiving, honey.”

I feel tears coating my eyes as I hug her back. I think my smile might actually split my face
apart. “Oh, Tricia! You're awake, too?”

“Well, someone had to make sure the food was edible. I couldn't leave that in my son's hands.”

“Hey!” Sean feigns offense, lightly poking his mother. “I helped!”

I pull back, wiping at my eyes. “You both should be sleeping,” I chide around a mindlessly
happy chuckle. “But as long as you're both awake, what are we eating?”

“It's kind of a Thanksgiving breakfast-for-dinner deal,” Sean explains, going to lift the cover
from each dish in turn. “Apple-pumpkin pancakes, turkey bacon, and a skillet with potatoes and
green beans. Plus cider to drink.”

“Thank you. Both of you. This is...I think this is exactly what I need tonight.”

Sean comes to take my hands, kissing my forehead. “I know you've been feeling overworked
lately. I want to make sure you know that you can count on me when things get rough. Whether
it's by getting you a few bath bombs, helping my mom cook you a nice meal, or just by holding
your hands and listening. I want to give you what you need so that you never feel alone like did
before.”

I wind my arms around his torso, resting my head on his chest so that I can hear his heartbeat.

“I know I'm not alone. And that's exactly what I'm thankful for tonight.”
Tahira

Grayson's words are still bothering me the morning after Thanksgiving. I didn't repeat them to
anyone at dinner last night, and I did my best to bury my anxiety. But clearly I'm not hiding it
that well this morning, because Mom feels my forehead and wonders aloud if I want to stay
home from the soup kitchen. I force myself to smile.

“I'm fine, Mom. Just nursing a turkey hangover.”

“Well, you don't feel warm,” Mom admits, but she doesn't look entirely convinced. “But you still
don't have to come. Grayson and I can manage the food just fine.”

“It's okay. I want to come. Since I was ten years old, I've only missed one Black Friday at the
soup kitchen. I'm not going to miss this one just because I'm sleepy.”

When Grayson arrives to take us over to the soup kitchen, one look in his eyes tells me that I'm
not hiding my anxiety from him very well, either. As we're loading the Thanksgiving leftovers
into his car, he finds a moment to take me aside.

“Are you all right?”

“Not you, too,” I groan. “I already had Mom feeling my forehead this morning.”

“...You're worried about what I told you about Dad.” It's not a question. There is an
unmistakeable note of guilt in his voice. I put a hand on his arm.

“Hey. I'm glad you told me, okay? ...But yeah, it worries me. ...If he knows about the Janus
Project, he might know about my cousin, too. I'm worried about how he came by that
information, too.”

“I'll work on getting that out of him,” he promises, enfolding me in a hug. “I'm not just going to
leave it where it is.”

“I know.” I nestle in his arms. “...You'll still stay and help at the soup kitchen though, right?”

“Of course! I'm not going to bail on you and your mom and the hungry citizens of Bayside just
to interrogate my dad.”

I can't help but chuckle. “I'm so glad you have your priorities in order.”

***
We arrive at the soup kitchen by ten in the morning. For the next couple hours, we help the
breakfast crew clean up, and then set to work laying out the lunch food. We're not the only ones
who have donated our Thanksgiving leftovers. On top of that, there are canned goods and non-
perishables that were collected by the Bayside public schools and churches, so there is plenty
to work with and plenty to keep me busy until the people start arriving. Most of the diners
come from the local homeless shelter, but there are also Bayside residents who regularly
choose between paying rent and buying groceries. The Grand has been a big help in the area,
but it takes time for a local economy to recover from hardship. While Mom and I serve food,
Grayson helps people find places to sit and cleans up after them when they finish.

For a little while, the work keeps my mind occupied. Then the lunch rush slows to a trickle,
Mom goes into the back to wash dishes, and my thoughts start to catch up with me. It's almost a
relief when I see the doors open to admit a group of kids, but as they gather up their trays and
make their way to the line, I start to think that they may be here without a parent or guardian.
No one appears to have followed them in.

There are five of them, four boys and one girl. They all look like they're one family, all dark-
haired and olive-skinned. The oldest boy doesn't look any older than sixteen, if that much. The
others all look to be around ten or eleven, though the youngest boy might be as young as seven.
I make myself smile in spite of my concern, counting out five plastic plates to spread out on the
countertop in front of me.

“Good afternoon,” I say brightly. “What can I get for you?”

“I want turkey and stuffing!” one of the boys yells, bouncing excitedly in place. “Oh! And I want
those cherries! And a brownie! And can I have grape juice, too?!”

“Slow down, RJ!” the oldest boy hisses. “Give the lady a chance to catch up!”

Eventually, RJ's plate is loaded with everything he desires, and I can turn my attention to the
other children. The boy who looks about RJ's age is much more polite and reserved in his
requests, and the youngest boy is so shy that he blushes as he points to each dish that he wants.
The oldest boy puts his arm around the girl's shoulders.

“What do you want, Ysa?”

The girl shakes her head. “I'm not hungry.”

“I know you're not feeling well, but you gotta eat something, okay?”

I smile sympathetically at her. “Not feeling well?”

“My stomach hurts,” she replies, pouting slightly.

“Well, how about some soup? Split pea? Chicken noodle? Tomato? Broccoli chedder?”
“...Tomato...” she says after a moment. I ladle out a cup of creamy red soup, and stack some
Saltines on the side of the plate. With all of them served, the kids take their trays to the nearest
table they can find.

A sudden chill across my shoulders makes me shudder. For an instant, it occurs to me that I
might actually be coming down with something. Then, a sharp, gnawing pain in my gut tells me
what's really going on. I groan internally. Menstrual cramps. I'm an alien superhero from
another dimension, and I still get menstrual cramps. So unfair. Maybe I should find Grayson and
have him take me home. I know from experience that I probably won't be much use until I can
either get some Midol or putting a heating pad on my belly.

“Well, this all looks like shit.” The familiar voice breaks into my thoughts. My head snaps up and
my eyes lock with Caleb's, peering out from underneath the hood of a heavy winter coat. He
smirks. “How ya doing, sweetheart? Can I get some grub?"

Chapter 34: Keeper of Secrets

Summary:
In Northbridge, an orphaned teenager adds a new layer of complication to the supers' lives.
Meanwhile, in California, Jake and Taylor get the news they've been waiting for.
Chapter Text

Tahira
Caleb raises an eyebrow at me, frowning slightly. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine!” I snap, scowling. “And don't call me sweetheart!”

“Right, right. Sorry. Can I get some grub or what?”

I sigh. The cramps are starting to intensify, but I don't see Grayson anywhere and I don't
particularly feel like hunting him down at the moment. I decide I'll go ahead and serve Caleb
while I wait for him to reappear.

“What can I get you?” I sigh, fumbling slightly with the plate.
“Just gimme a little of everything, piled on there as best you can.”

“...It's not that big a plate, buddy.”

“Then I'll take two plates!” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “Unless that's against the rules here.”

“I suppose it's not,” I sniff. I start piling food onto his plate, grabbing a second one when the
first runs out of room. “...What are you doing here, anyway? Does the queen of your little
squatter gang not feed you?”

Quite to my surprise, my question appears to strike a nerve. He looks sharply at me, his mouth
twisting.

“If you must know, I'm a little down on my luck right now. It's either give up buying groceries
and sleep in my van, or quit smoking.”

“And of course, cigarettes are the essential thing you can't cut out.”

“Obvs.”

“So you've come to the soup kitchen to stuff your pockets with as much free food as you can
carry.”

“Obvs again. ...I got good reasons, you know.”

“Good reasons for refusing to quit smoking?”

“No, good reasons for being down on my luck. But this isn't the place to talk about that.”

I bite my lip against a sudden swell of pain in my midsection, gripping the countertop. I feel
beads of sweat starting to pop out on my forehead.

“No, I'll agree with you there.” I plop the loaded plates on a tray and shove it at him. “Here's
your 'grub'. I'm gonna take off.”

My hands tremble as I tug at my apron strings, knotted tightly at the small of my back.
Goddammit, why did I tie this so tightly? I am uncomfortably aware of how my breath is hissing
through my clenched teeth, but I can't help it. The pain is starting to make me feel more than a
little lightheaded.

“Okay, seriously though. Are you all right?” Caleb actually sounds genuine in his concern,
enough that I feel a little guilty when I glare at him.
“I told you I'm fine, but if you must know, I am having horrible menstrual cramps!” I snap,
staggering out from behind the counter. “Look, if you're so worried, why don't you make
yourself useful and untie this for me?”

I turn my back to him, pointing at the knot of my apron strings. Craning my neck to look over
my shoulder, I see him shrug. He takes hold of the knot and begins picking at it with his ragged
fingernails.

“Jesus, were you expecting this thing to escape?” he mutters. “No wonder you look like shit, you
got this thing tied like a fucking corset!”

“What the hell do you know about corsets?” I grumble.

“Well, fuck, don't make it sound like corsets are some kind of obscure thing no guy has ever
heard of before. I've seen the fucking Rocky Horror Picture Show.” I feel the apron go slack
around my neck. “There.”

“...Thank you.” I pull the apron off over my head, turning back toward him as I fold it carefully.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, frowning at me briefly before averting his eyes.

“You, uh...got a way to get home?”

I blink. “Yeah...I've got a ride.”

“Good. I ain't so sure you should be...uh...cruising right now.” He gestures upward with one
finger, and I realize he means I shouldn't be flying.

“Oh, you don't think I should cruise, huh?” I sigh irritably.

“No.” He lowers his voice. “Frankly, you look like you did when we broke outta Prescott's
dungeon. After you went all Hulk on his special cage.”

As suddenly as it came on, the pain in my belly eases, as if Caleb's words somehow cured me.
And in a way, I oddly think they did. The memory of my parents giving me their power through
the Prism Gate has flooded my mind and provided me with clarity. Suddenly, I know what I'm
feeling. It isn't menstrual cramps. Out in the crowd of diners at the soup kitchen, my eyes zero
in on the group of five kids who came in before Caleb, still at their table. The girl, Ysa, is curled
against the wall with her knees drawn to her chest. The oldest boy has his hand on her
shoulder. He looks worried.

“It's her,” I murmur.

“What? Who?” Caleb turns, following my gaze. “Who are you looking at?”

“That girl there. The one sitting with the four boys? The one that teenage guy is hugging right
now?”
“Where? I don't—oh, there...Hey! I know that kid!”

“What? You know Ysa?”

“Ysa? Is that the girl? No, I don't know Ysa. I know the kid hugging her. His name is Dylan.”

“How do you know him?”

“He works at the convenience store where I've been buying my cigs. They sell these crack-
burritos—“

“They sell what?!”

Caleb rolls his eyes, groaning. “Burritos, Tahira! Really good burritos!”

“Tahira?” Another voice joins us, this one much more welcome. I look up, smiling with relief.

“Grayson, thank god. Where have you been?” I frown. “Wait, why do you have your coat on?”

“I was just taking some food out to the dog those five kids left tethered outside.”

“Wait, a dog?”

“Yeah. They tethered her up outside since they were told they couldn't bring her into the dining
area.” He glances over at Caleb, frowning. “...Wait...have we met?”

“Not officially, but like anyone who's lived in Northbridge for more than fifteen seconds, I know
who you are, Grayson Prescott.”

I sigh. “Grayson, this is Caleb.”

“Wait, Caleb as in...?” He makes a gesture with his hands near his chest that clearly indicates
and explosion and the resulting flames.

“Yes, but we can't go into that now,” I say firmly. “Don't ask me how I know this, but that girl
there needs a doctor. Like, immediately.”

When both the men stare blankly at me, I sigh and march over to the table where the five kids
are sitting, trying to play the part of a concerned citizen.

“Are you guys all right over here?”

The oldest boy—Dylan, I guess—looks up sharply. “We're fine,” he says firmly, in a voice that
clearly indicates otherwise. Ysa is curled up in his arms now, her young face sweaty and
twisted with pain. She looks like she's on the verge of tears.
“Your sister doesn't look very well.”

“She's my cousin, not my sister.”

“I think my point stands.” I reach across the table to feel Ysa's forehead, but Dylan recoils from
me, clutching his cousin protectively and glaring. “...I'm not going to hurt her. I promise. I'm just
wondering if her forehead feels hot.”

Dylan keeps glaring at me and doesn't move any closer. “...It does,” he admits flatly.

I try to find Ysa's eyes under her cousin's protective embrace and the hair that's fallen over her
sweaty face.

“Ysa? Can you show me exactly where your stomach hurts?”

When she points to the spot where the pain is, I feel my own stomach turn to lead. Lower right.
I'm no doctor, but I've taken enough first aid and babysitting courses in my lifetime to know
what the symptoms are telling me.

“...It's Dylan, right?”

Dylan's eyes flare with hostility and suspicion. “How do you know my name?”

“Never mind that, okay?” There is a pleading note in my voice that I hope he hears. “Your cousin
needs a doctor right now. I think she may have an inflamed appendix.”

“Wait, her appendix is on fire?!” RJ yelps, drawing the attention of the other diners around us.

“What's an appendix?” asks one of the boys whose name I don't know, the older of the two.

“It's a little dangly baggy thingy in your stomach!” RJ informs him. “And sometimes it fills up
with poison until it catches fire and explodes!”

The youngest boy's eyes go wide and fill with tears. “Is my sister gonna explode?” he whimpers.
“I don't want my sister to explode...”

“No one is going to explode,” I assure him. “But she needs to see a doctor right away so they can
fix it, or she might get very, very sick. I'm going to call for an ambulance.”

“No!” Dylan cries. He clutches Ysa more tightly, his eyes wide and fearful. “You can't! We can't
go to the hospital! W-we don't have any way to pay for it or—“

“Dylan, I'm sorry, but you don't really have a choice. Not if you want Ysa to be all right.”

I feel a hand on my arm. “Tahira, lay off!” Caleb snaps. “You're scaring the kiddies.”
I scowl, shrugging him off. “I am trying to save a little girl's life!” I hiss back.

Grayson comes up on my other side, draping an arm over my shoulders. “Easy now. Let's all
calm down. Getting worked up won't help anyone.” He looks at Dylan. “Don't worry about the
money, okay? I can take care of that.”

Dylan swallows hard. Ysa moans in his arms, whimpering in pain, and he starts to look like he
might be caving. Caleb steps forward.

“Okay, so Grayson Prescott's gonna take care of the financial portion. How about if I take on the
task of playing your big brother who looks after you? Unlike you, I actually look eighteen.”

Dylan looks at Caleb. If I had a million years to think about it, I could never actually decipher
the look that passes between them. It seems to take forever, with Ysa's whimpers getting
increasingly heart-rending, and anxiety creeping from my stomach to my racing heart and up
into my throat. Finally, Dylan nods.

“Okay.”

I feel the three of us breathe a collective sigh of relief. Grayson nods.

“Okay, that's settled then. We can take her in my car.” He moves toward her, but Caleb stops
him with a hand on his chest.

“Hang on there, Prescott. If I'm gonna play the big brother, I better be the one carrying her
when we get to the hospital.”

Grayson hesitates a moment, but he nods and steps aside. Dylan reluctantly allows Caleb to
scoop his weeping little cousin up in his arms. He carries her outside, and the others follow
anxiously.

I grab my purse and coat, trailing behind them. Outside, we are immediately greeted by a
brown and white English bulldog puppy straining at its leash, which is secured around a
signpost.

“Wait!” RJ yelps. “What about Zelda? We can't just leave her here! She'll get cold and hungry!”

“RJ, you take Zig and Alex home with Zelda,” Dylan orders him. “I have to go to the hospital with
Ysa.”

“Okay, hang on.” I try keep my voice gentle, aware that I've been coming on a little strong with a
bunch of scared kids. “I don't think it's safe for you kids to be walking home alone. If you tell me
where you live, I can walk with you.”

“Don't tell her!” Dylan snaps. “I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm not going to tell a stranger where we
live.”
I sigh, trying not to let my frustration come through. The kid actually has a fair point—even if
his willingness to let Grayson and Caleb take his cousin to the hospital does kind of undermine
that point. That willingness to bend could be put down to fear and desperation, but I have a
nagging feeling he has a bigger reason not to trust me with his home address than just the fact
that I'm a stranger.

“Okay, how about this: you know who Dragonness is, right?”

He looks warily at me. “...Yeah?”

“You know she's one of the good guys, yeah?” When he nods, I internally sigh with relief. “Okay.
As it happens, she's a friend of mine. Why don't I give her a call and have her pick up RJ and Zig
and Alex and Zelda and have her take them some place safe to wait for you. I can have her meet
you at the hospital and everything. I'll wait with them until she shows up.”

Dylan bites his lip, hesitating as he looks at the younger boys and then back at Ysa. “Well...”

“You need to get to the hospital quickly,” I remind him softly. “You can trust me just to wait
with them, right? Even if I tried to hurt these boys, there are a lot of people on the streets today.
All they would have to do is scream and there would be a bunch of people coming to stop me.”

“...I guess...”

“Okay, just wait here one minute, and I'll make the call.”

Without waiting for a reply, I duck around the corner of the building into an alley and fish my
mask out of my coat pocket, holding it up to my face and activating the communicator.

“Kenji? Eva? Come in, guys.”

“Tahira?” Kenji is the first to reply, though he sounds bleary. “Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. But I kinda need Talos and/or Minuet for a little mission. Nothing strenuous, just need
three kids and a dog escorted to the clocktower.” I explain the situation as briefly as I can.

“You sure you need us?” Eva's voice startles me. I wasn't sure she'd picked up the call. “Why not
get a police officer?”

“I would, but I have a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't be any more willing to tell a police
officer where they live than me.”

“Well, of course I'll help,” Kenji says.

“Me too. I'm not far from you right now, so I won't be long.”
“Me neither.”
“Thanks. And you guys can cover for Dragonness when you get here? Say that she's setting up
the clocktower, and I'll meet you guys there.”

“Got it.”

With that call made, Dylan finally seems satisfied enough to climb into Grayson's car with Caleb
and Ysa. I linger at the curb with the boys and their dog, awkwardly silent for a moment.

“So...my name is Tahira by the way.”

“I'm RJ!” The boy whose name I actually know announces. “This is Zig, and that's Alex. He's the
youngest.”

“I see. And...Alex, you're Ysa's brother?” Alex only glances briefly at me before looking away and
nodding.

“Zig is her bother, too,” RJ informs me. “I'm Dylan's brother. We're their cousins. And Ysa's
name is actually Ysabel, we just all call her Ysa.”

“Ahh. I'm guessing RJ is a nickname, too?”

“Yeah, but I'm not telling you my real name. And you'll never guess it in a million years!”

I have to bite back a smile. “You're probably right about that.”

Conversation lapses after that, and everyone's focus shifts onto Zelda, who is quite happy to be
the center of attention. Suddenly, RJ yelps, leaping to his feet.

“Omigosh! It's Minuet!”

I look up to see my teammate leaning against a signpost just a few feet away. She grins.

“Well, well, well. Tahira Rogers, three kids, and a dog. Guess I'm in the right place.”

I stand, carefully arranging my features into an expression of surprise. “Minuet! I wasn't

expecting you.”

“Hope you aren't disappointed. Dragonness wanted to make sure the tower was ready for
guests, so she sent me and Talos to pick up the kids and dog.” Her gaze shifts somewhere
behind me, and she smirks. “...And clearly, the Man of Bronze is not nearly as quick as I am.”

“Or the Man of Bronze was on the other side of town,” Talos grumbles, approaching from
behind. RJ yelps again.

“That's Talos!” he announces.

“Nice to meet you, kid. Though I'm guessing you have a name you'd rather I call you?”

“RJ. And that's Zig and Alex.”

“And who's this adorable little wrinkle-boy?” Minuet cooes, now down on her hands and knees
in front of Zelda. The dog waddles up to lick Minuet's face, wagging her stubby little tail.

“That's a girl dog,” RJ informs her. “Her name is Zelda.”

“Well, if she isn't just the sweetest little wrinkle-puppy-girl! Do you want to come stay at the
tower with us? Do you? Do you?” Zelda yips twice. “I think that means, 'Yes! Yes!'”

“Careful, she likes to bite fingers and toes and stuff.”

“Oh, that's okay! Little pupper-dupper can have my toes for supper!” Minuet sings. I clap my
hands over my mouth, trying and failing to smother my laughter.

“Talos, I think the puppy broke Minuet,” I squeak.

“Oh, please. If the two of you weren't trying so hard to be cool, you'd be right down here with
me.”

“Well, you got me there,” I admit. “Anyway, I'll leave you both to it. I have to go back inside.
Thanks again for doing this. My regards to Dragonness.”

I see them off and head back inside to explain the situation to my mother. She helps me duck
out the back door into an alley where I swap my civilian clothes for my supersuit and mask.
One great thing about having my mom in on my secret: I know I can count on her to cover me
when I have to become Dragonness in a hurry.

Caleb

The kid in my arms is looking a lot worse. I look out the window of Prescott's car and curse the
Black Friday shoppers clogging the roads as they willingly feed themselves to the capitalist pigs
while I got a sick kid on my lap. Not that I ultimately care, but it's kinda hard not to be affected
by the sound of her sobbing with the pain in her gut, or the fact that she's kind of a human
heating pad right now. Dylan sits next to me and holds her hand and strokes her hair, damp
with sweat as he whispers gently to her, in between me grilling him on what our story is. Since
I'm the one with the ID, we agree we should take my last name and all play as siblings. Or
rather, they're my half-siblings since we can't actually pose for full blood relatives. We don't
have insurance, that much is clear, but we're taking Prescott's charity.
“Main thing is, kid, we know our story, but we don't need to tell more than anyone asks, got it?
Hospitals don't ask as many questions as cops, not unless they suspect abuse. So you just play it
cool and let me do the talking.”

“...Why are you doing this for us?” Dylan asks.

“...I got my reasons, kid.” I don't know that I can say much more than that. I don't entirely know
why I'm doing it myself. But maybe I do. Hell, I know I'm not the nicest guy in the world. I don't
usually do stuff that isn't for my own benefit. But if there's a kid dying in front of me and all I
gotta do is pretend to be her brother and let someone else pay the bill, why not? I doubt the kid
would have actually let his cousin die when it came to it. He seems smart enough, but even the
smartest teenager can be phenomenally stupid, and the poor kid's appendix might have burst
before he decided the hospital was worth the risk.

“Well...thanks. Whatever your reasons are. Thanks.”

By the time we get to the hospital, we don't even have to wait very long. The kid's condition is
obviously bad enough to warrant priority treatment. They basically put her on a gurney and
start sticking her with needles while firing questions at us. Naturally, Dylan answers all the
health history questions, but I don't think they notice. I do my level best to play the concerned
big brother, even though it's also Dylan doing all the handholding through all the poking and
prodding. At some point, someone in scrubs explains the appendectomy procedure to me, but it
all kinda goes over my head. I think I manage to sell the concerned brother act when I tell them
to do what they have to, just make my little sister better.

“Don't pay attention to the nurses, Ysa, okay? I know it hurts a little, but you know they're just
trying to help you, right?”

“Yeah...” she croaks pitifully. She tries to wipe at her eyes with the back of her free hand, but
that one's already got a needle stuck in it and taped down. “My stomach hurts more than the
shots...”

“I can imagine,” the nurse says sympathetically. “But you know what we're gonna do about
that? We're gonna give you some medicine, and you're basically gonna have a nice, long nap
while we take your appendix out. And when you wake up, you're gonna feel a lot better. How's
that sound?”

“...Good...”

The nurse grins, chucking her lightly on the chin. “Brave girl,” he says. “Okay, honey, give your
brothers hugs and kisses and then we're gonna take you back to get you fixed up.”

Dylan bends over to give his cousin a hug as best he can with the tubes in the way, and kisses
her cheek. I'm not gonna try to navigate the medical tubing to hug a kid I barely know, but in
the spirit of my role, I do bend over and give her a peck on the forehead.
“You'll be okay, kiddo. Be brave, and I'll have a present for you when you wake up?”

She looks skeptically at me. “What kind of present?”

“Ahh, no way you're tricking me into giving away the surprise.” I wag my finger at her. “I'm not
falling for it.”

She giggles a little, and Dylan rolls his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets as he steps back
from the gurney.

“Okay, let's let the doctors do their thing,” he says firmly.

We head back out to the waiting room, where Grayson has parked himself in a chair with a
magazine. There's some official paperwork waiting for us on a clipboard, and I take it back to
the seat to fill it out with Dylan's help. Grayson takes over when it comes to the financial
portion, filling out his name and address.

“...Decent of you to foot the bill,” I admit grudgingly.

“What good is having money if you can't throw a little of it at the right people in the name of a
good cause?”

“Think you could find it in your heart to throw a little at the gift shop cashier to get the kid a
present?”

He looks at me for a moment, and then shrugs. I'm honestly a little surprised when he digs his
wallet out of the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a fifty. He folds it in his palm and
passes it across my chest to Dylan.

“Here. Go buy Ysa something she'll like. Keep the change.”

Dylan eyes the money for a moment before snatching it up and scooting off to the gift shop.

“Not exactly smart, Prescott,” I murmur, “waving your money around like that. Even in a
hospital, there are some unsavory characters who might see that as an invitation. Especially in
Bayside.”

“I am not unfamiliar with the neighborhood,” Grayson replies flatly.

“Yeah?” I lower my voice a little further. “Well, I guess when your girlfriend is a super—“

“Don't,” he growls lowly. I raise an eyebrow.

“Don't what?”
“Don't go there.” We lapse into silence for a moment before he continues. “...That kid can't be
more than sixteen.”

I immediately see what he's getting at. “Don't you go there.”

“A sixteen-year-old kid can't take care of four others.”

“That ain't up to you, Prescott.”

“Look, you might not actually give a damn if—“

“Stop it. Stop right there. Don't try to tell me I don't give a damn when a bunch of kids are
trying to stay out of the system. You don't have a friggin' clue what the system is like.”

He is quiet for a moment. “...Do you?”

“I know enough,” I reply flatly. “I know they won't be keeping those kids together.”

“I thought most of the time they try not to separate siblings.”

“Doesn't mean they always succeed. Besides. ...Not all of 'em are siblings.”

He is quiet for another long moment. “...I had my appendix out when I was nine. I remember
being in the hospital for days afterward.” I feel like he wants me to respond, so I grunt in
acknowledgment. “...You're going to have to keep up the part. You can probably feed them an
excuse about needing to work to explain why you're not here round the clock, but if you don't
come back every day she's here, and if you're not here to pick her up when she's discharged,
questions will be asked.”

I am quiet at that. I can't deny he's got a point. ...But even as that gets me worrying a little, I can
already see a few advantages.

“Ah, hell, I could use a warm bed for a few nights myself. I'll be here enough to convince the
authorities. Not like anything I'm up to is gonna take me outta Northbridge any time soon.”

“And what is it you're up to, Caleb? Because I swear if you hurt Tahira—“

“You know, buddy, I'm way more scared of your girlfriend than I am of a civvie like you,” I
drawl, smirking. “Chill, okay? I'm trying to help her out. What exactly are you doing on that
front, son of the man who tried to lock her up and steal her power?”

Grayson slips me a sidelong glance. “Honestly, I don't know what I can do at this point. But I
think if it comes to it, I may be in a unique position to protect her.”

“Yeah? How's that?”

“...Because I'm the one thing she and her greatest enemy both care about.”

Tahira

I arrive at the clock tower well before Talos and Minuet, and I have a chance to prep the place,
hiding the more dangerous machines and draping the computer console with tarps while filling
the living half of our base with toys and games that I pray will hold the kids' attention enough
that they don't go fiddling with Dax's very delicate equipment. A few weeks ago, we decided on
impulse to get ourselves a television screen that we could hook up to a computer or game
console for TV or movies or games. Surely that can hold their attention, right? Well, if not,
maybe the snacks I gathered will be enough. I know they just ate, but growing kids are always
hungry, and I expect they may be here for a day or two or more.

I'm just about finishing up when Kenji's image flickers to life on the screen embedded in my
mask. He grins.

“Hey, Dragonness, we're down here. Wanna come give the kids a lift?”

I glide languidly from the balcony to the pavement below, landing gently beside my teammates.
I am immediately swarmed by the kids, who half an hour ago were not especially impressed
with me. I grin at them.

“Welcome to my home! Let me guess...you're...RJ...Zig...and Alex?” I deliberately confuse RJ and

Zig, and they quickly correct me. “Right, sorry. Well, climb on, kids. Let's get you out of the
cold.”

“Climb on what?”

“Why, on me, of course! Come on, I've got two arms, one back, and super strength. I can take all
three of you at once no problem.”

The kids squeal excitedly, climbing up into my arms and onto my back. I warn them to hold on
tight before lifting off the sidewalk. I don't want to fly too fast, but I figure I'll give them a thrill
if I put in a little speed. Sure enough, they whoop with excitement as we glide smoothly toward
the balcony.

Inside the clocktower, RJ immediately begins racing around, exploring everything—including

the tarp-covered computer console.

“Ah, ah, ah! Don't touch that, kiddo. That's highly technical stuff that only our super-smart
friend is allowed to work with. Even I'm not allowed to touch it when he's not around. If you
come over here, though, I've got some computers that you are free to go nuts with. All they
have on there are games, TV shows, and the usual stuff.”

Thankfully, RJ doesn't press the issue of the mysterious computer console, immediately going
over to explore the laptop that I've already set up for him.

“What does your friend use the big thing for?” he asks.

“Mostly just to make sure Talos and Minuet and I are safe when we're fighting bad guys, or to
fix our supersuits when they break down.”

“Supersuits can break down?” Zig asks skeptically.

“Of course. Just like computers and phones and televisions can break.”

“Is it the suit that gives you your powers?” Zig sounds slightly disappointed by the idea, which
makes me grin.

“Oh, goodness, no. I can fly and lift up heavy things even when I don't have the suit on, just like
Minuet can still make things go in slow motion. But my suit helps me talk to them when we're
in a battle and I can't use a cell phone. My mask also lets me see in the dark, and the suit lights
up so that people can see me more easily if I need them to. Like, if I were trying to help them
out of a very dark room.”

Zig grins. “Like emergency lights!”

“Exactly!”

“What's exactly what?” Talos and Minuet appear at the top of the stairs, Minuet with the puppy
wiggling in her arms.

“My suit has emergency lights is what.” I stand up, moving back toward the window. “You guys
get the kids settled in. I need to make a quick call.”

Without waiting for a reply, I fly out the window and up onto the roof of the clock tower.
Settling in there, I put a call in to Grayson from my mask. Since getting back, I've made Marci
store his phone number and Mom's in my communicator.

“Hey, Tahira. How is everything?”

“The kids are safe at the clock tower, and their little dog, too,” I quip. “What's the news on your
end?”
“The doctors say it's almost certainly appendicitis. They got her in surgery now. She should be
okay, though. ...You should know, Caleb is determined not to let the authorities know that there's a
minor looking after four other minors and a dog on his own.”

I sigh. “The only thing I find surprising about that is that he gives a crap what those kids do at
all. He doesn't trust authority or the system under any circumstances.”

“He might actually be planning to stay with the kid while she recovers so that no one questions
why her guardian isn't visiting her.”

“Seriously?”

“I can't swear to his motivation of course.”

“No...of course not. ...Think it's a good time for me to drop by and check in with Dylan?”

“I should think so. He's worried about Ysabel, I'm sure it will help to know the others are safe.”

“Right. Well, I think Talos and Minuet have the boys handled here. Talos will surely enjoy them
fanboying all over him, and Minuet seems completely taken by the puppy.”

He chuckles. “I'll see you when you get here, then. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jake

Our flight back to California is scheduled for Sunday morning. On Saturday afternoon, Taylor
and I take a break from the family to make the short drive to my grandparents' old house. We
stand for a moment outside the red-brick Acadian where I spent the majority of my childhood,
gazing up at the windows, still trimmed with the white lace curtains my grandmother made.

“So, this is it. This is where you grew up.”

I drape an arm over my wife's shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “More or less.
...Also where I lived for two years or so before I got you back.”

“Can we see the river?”

I chuckle a little. “It's basically the same swamp we been staring at from my parents' place.
We're not that far.”
“I know...but that isn't the house where you grew up. It isn't the place where we hid from an
erupting volcano and had a few moments' peace. It's not the place I named our child for.”

“Technically, this isn't, either. But I get your drift. Come on.”

I take her hand and lead her around to the back of the house toward the bayou. As the familiar
expanse of swamp and plantlife comes into view, I feel a rush of emotion. Most of it is good.
Nostalgia, sweet memories of tagging along with Rebecca and the neighbor kids, looking for
wildlife in the swamp, making mud pies, getting in fights. But there's bitterness mixed in with
the sweet, too. The two lonely years I lived here, aching for the woman who's beside me now,
drowning my sorrows, never fully able to kill the pain, feeling angry and guilty and hopeless...

I squeeze her hand and hear her choke on a soft sob. I don't ask. I turn and draw her into my
arms, cradling her head on my shoulder. She clings to me, trembling as she cries.

“It's so beautiful,” she finally whispers. “I can't believe I'm here. I'm standing with you in the
place that raised you, and it's beautiful. Your family is beautiful, Jake, and I love them.”

“Our family is beautiful, Taylor. Our blood families, and the family we chose for ourselves. Our
brothers, the Catalysts, your cousin...” I let one hand travel down to rest on the curve of her
belly. “...And soon...our baby.”

She sighs, and the sound is contented. She presses her forehead to mine.

“...Let's find our ribbon.”

Kenji

So, the clock tower has guests for a few days, which is...new. Tahira explains the situation to
Dax and Poppy, so that the five of us can get on a rotation that ensures the boys have at least
one adult on patrol at all hours. Tahira also takes a shift watching Dylan and Ysabel at the
hospital, though except for showing up as Dragonness to tell Dylan the boys were safe, she
sticks to visiting the hospital as Tahira. I am concerned about Caleb being one of the adults
keeping an eye on things at the hospital. Tahira and Grayson try to reassure me, pointing out
that the hospital is a pretty crowded place and it would be pretty stupid of him to try
something there, but I wouldn't put it past him. He tried to burn down a DMV. Tried to kill my
mother. The fact that Tahira seems keen to trust him is...frankly scary. It was bad enough
having to work with him to take down Silas Prescott, but at least I understood his motives.
What the hell does he want with these kids?

I mean, I'll concede the boys are awesome. They're smart and eager and they're great at video
games. Plus they're eager to learn my martial arts tricks—especially once we get the news that
Ysabel has come through her surgery just fine and that they can stop worrying. We celebrate
the good news with cupcakes and fruit punch, and then I push back the furniture to show them
a few basic moves, which keeps them occupied until the shift change. Sunday afternoon finds
me on babysitting duty again. I'm walking the boys through a few simple karate blocks when I
am startled by a voice in the doorway.

“You teachin' 'em to dance, Man of Bronze?” Caleb drawls.

“Holy fffffffffrisbee!” I hiss, remembering that there are children present just in time to bite
back a curse. I whip around to glare at Caleb, about to demand what he's doing here, when I
realize he has a teenage boy with him, who I can only assume is Dylan. The boys confirm it
when they rush over to him to attack him with hugs.

“Talos was teaching us karate!” RJ announces.

“Well, that's exciting,” Dylan replies mildly. “I just came here to check on you guys. Caleb said
he was friends with you...?”

“I wouldn't say we're 'friends,' I can't resist saying. I admit to feeling a bit of satisfaction when
Caleb scowls.

“I had kinda hoped Dragonness would be here.”

“Well, she isn't at the moment, as you can see. Probably off either resting or saving
Northbridge. Being one of the good guys keeps her busy.” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Besides...why were you hoping to talk to her, when I'm the one whose trust you're supposed to
be earning?”

Caleb flinches, shifting nervously. “Hey, Talos, you wanna maybe not in front of the kid?”

“Never mind,” Dylan says flatly. “ 'The kid' is just here to walk the other kids home.”

“Aww, do we have to?” RJ whines.

“Yes. You have school tomorrow, and I'm guessing that means homework, too. Besides, Ysa's
doing fine and she's going to be home in a couple days, so I don't need to hover all over her
anymore.”

I can't help giving Caleb a side-eye. “You planning on letting Caleb walk home with you? I
wouldn't advise it, but I suppose it's better than leaving him alone with the girl.”

Caleb's hands curl into fists. “Why don't you say what you mean, you shiny jackass?”

“I really hope you boys aren't fighting.” Both Caleb and I flinch like guilty children at Tahira's
voice. Dragonness is on the balcony, having landed when neither one of us was paying
attention. She strides into the clock tower, staring us down through her mask, commanding the
entire room with her presence. Caleb and I avoid eye contact with her and each other.
“We aren't fighting,” Caleb mumbles. “I was hoping to talk with you about...stuff.”

She folds her arms. “...'Stuff'?”

“...Northbridge stuff. Northbridge and...outside of Northbridge. Way outside.”

She sighs. “Why not tell Talos? It's his trust you have to earn, remember? He knows everything
I know, and I was hoping Dylan would allow me to escort him and the boys home.”

“No, that's not--”

“Oh, cool!” RJ whoops. “Are you gonna fly us there?!”

“Sorry. Flying all of you all the way home would get a little more dangerous than just flying you
up into the clock tower. I just want to guard you on the walk home, make sure you don't run
into any trouble.”

“...Why?” Dylan asks warily, ignoring another chorus of disappointed groans from the boys.

“Why? Because I am Dragonness. Dragonness protects the citizens of Northbridge. That's her
job. ...Full disclosure, Dylan, I am going to make sure you, the boys, and the dog make it home
safely. Whether or not you give me permission. I just want you to have the chance to give me
permission first. Give me the chance to do this honestly.” She spreads her hands placatingly.
“Wherever you're living, I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

Dylan appears to size Dragonness up. Finally, he nods. “...Okay.”

“Good. In the meantime, Caleb will tell Talos what he's planning. I expect to hear details when I
get back.”

I give her a salute. “Yes, ma'am.”

She scowls a little at my response, but she doesn't say anything. Giving a curt nod, she turns to
Dylan, who is already getting the boys bundled up and putting on Zelda's leash. Caleb and I
hang awkwardly by until we're left alone in the clock tower. With everyone else gone, I turn to
him.

“So. What's this plan of yours?”

Tahira
It's only been about a month since I came home, but the return of Dragonness was so public
that the citizens of Northbridge for the most part don't gawk at the sight of me walking
escorting a teenage boy and three younger boys down the street as dusk rapidly encroaches
upon the city. They're used to me patroling in one neighborhood or another, and walking kids
home as dark approaches is hardly out of character.

Dylan is quiet as we walk, keeping a tight hold on Zelda's leash while the puppy sniffs at every
tree, pole, post, and foot that we pass. The boys quickly get cold and grumpy, but I let them take
turns riding on my back while I make literal flying leaps from one block to the next, making
sure to keep Dylan in my sights.

It's while RJ is on my back that he suddenly exclaims, “There it is!” He points down toward the
ground over my shoulder, and I follow his finger to Bayside's local Catholic church, St.
Catherine of Siena. I frown, but I touch down beside the church and let RJ off my back. Dylan
unwraps Zelda's leash from his hand and passes it to Zig.

“You guys go inside. I just want to thank Dragonness.”

The boys rush into the church with Zelda, apparently unconcerned by Dylan hanging back to
thank me.

“There's no need to thank me,” I drawl. “But I have a feeling that isn't what you really
intended.”

Dylan turns to look me in the eye, raising his chin and folding his arms. I am at least two heads
taller than him and definitely built stronger, but he stares me down bravely.

“Now you know where we live.”

“In a church. An interesting choice.”

“If not for Zelda, I'm guessing we'd be living in the mall uptown,” he quips. His gaze softens for
a moment. “...A few years ago, that was a game we would play whenever our parents dragged
us shopping. We'd pretend to be orphans living at the mall, sleeping on the mattress displays at
night and just hanging around the mall all day. We'd pretend we were stealing the lunch our
parents bought us from the food court, or the clothes or toys or whatever else they bought us.”

“...But now they're actually gone. Aren't they.”

“...They were there the day you fought Silas Prescott. Mine and RJ's parents, and our aunt and
uncle—Ysa, Zig, and Alex's mom and dad. ...They didn't come home.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut from Silas Prescott under the influence of four vials of
liquid prism.

“...That's half the death toll from that day,” I whisper. “I'm so sorry.”
He shakes his head. “It isn't your fault, Tahira. You were trying to stop it.”

I stiffen. “...What did you just call me?”

“...Tahira. That's your name, isn't it?”

“...Who told you that?”

“Doesn't matter who told me. I'm right, aren't I? You're Tahira.” He narrows his eyes. “You
know my secret. And now I know yours, too.”

“I kinda get the feeling you're threatening me,” I say lowly, a warning in my voice.

“Oh, I am. If you tell my secret, I tell yours.”

“Really. And who would you tell?”

“Anyone I want to tell. Maybe Silas Prescott. Maybe Grayson. Or the police.”

Even though everyone he mentioned by name already knows, the threat behind his words is
still plain. And something tells me that if I give him up, he'll be angry enough to go through with
his threat. All it would take is for one of the wrong people to hear and believe him. I am quiet
for a moment, choosing my next words carefully.

“I don't hide who I am to protect myself. I do it to protect the people I love.”

“That's what I'm doing. If child services finds out that I'm the one taking care of my brother and
cousins, we go back into foster care. Last time we went into foster care, they were going to
separate RJ and me from Ysa and her brothers. They keep siblings together when they can.
They don't have the same policy for cousins. So, I'll say it again. You tell, I tell.”

I purse my lips. “As long as we're sharing secrets,” I begin with ice in my voice, “how old are
you, Dylan? Really?”

“...Fifteen.”

“So you've got anywhere from two to three years before what you're doing is actually legal. Do
you really think you can keep this up until then?”

“I know I might get caught. It's even likely. ...But the longer I can put it off, the less likely it is
we'll be adopted away from each other in the meantime.”

“...I don't usually like being asked to defy the law. Not unless I'm sure I'm doing the right thing.”

“You don't think keeping a family together is the right thing?”

“I absolutely think it is. ...But I'm not sure if that outweighs the risks of letting a fifteen-year-old
take on the responsibility for four kids. And a dog.” I sigh. “But...I guess you know where to
come now if you need help.”

“...I do?”

I turn away, making ready to take off. “Of course.” I turn to throw a smile at him over my
shoulder. “The clock tower.”

Caleb

It's getting late by the time I leave the clock tower. Probably about time for me to get some food
and figure out where I'm going to spend the night. ...Probably with the kid at the hospital, now
that I think about it. They think I'm her guardian, so they've been letting me sleep there
overnight. I've only got another night or two to take advantage of the situation, so I might as
well. But first...I need my fix. I dig my cigarettes out of my pocket and tap the pack absently
against my palm as I make my way down the sidewalk, wondering if I should eat at the soup
kitchen before I get to the hospital, or blow a couple bucks in the cafeteria there. I pull a Camel
from the pack and place the filter between my teeth. I snap my fingers and a flame jumps to life
on the tip of my index finger. I am a microsecond from lighting up when a pair of hands grabs
roughly at the front of my coat, yanking me sharply to the side. I yelp in surprise, the cigarette
dropping from my mouth as I'm lifted bodily into the air and pushed against a wall so hard the
vibrations make my teeth rattle. My vision focuses and I see Dragonness in front of me, her
dark eyes furious behind her mask.

“Jesus, woman, what the fuck?!” I struggle, kicking my feet against the empty air underneath
me, but strength-wise, I'm just no match for her. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“I am going to ask you this once, Caleb, and I expect the truth: did you or did you not tell Dylan
my name?”

“I did not!” I reply indignantly. “What does he know your name or something?!”

“I thought that was implied!” she snaps.

“Well, I didn't tell him!”

“Then how come he knows?”

“How the hell should I know?! Maybe he put two and two together and found the answer was
fucking four! Or maybe there's another explanation, and the answer's got something to do with
how the hell you knew his little cousin had appendicitis! Seriously, I know you told me not ask,
but have you even asked yourself about that yet?” She hesitates long enough to give me my
answer. “Look, you maybe wanna put me down?”

She sets me back on my feet, a little more roughly than necessary, I think. I straighten my
clothes and pull out a fresh cigarette. There's a lot I'll do when I'm desperate for a fix, but I'm
not desperate enough right now to put anything that's been on the sidewalk back in my mouth.
I've been frugal enough that I can afford another pack. I wince slightly as I raise it to my mouth,
my shoulders throbbing and probably bruised from being compressed against the wall.

“Think you mighta cracked the wall there,” I mutter, resisting the urge to call her 'sweetheart'. I
kinda don't wanna rile her up right now.

“...Sorry,” she mumbles. “I tend to forget my own strength. ...I didn't crack you at all, did I?”

“Not that I can tell right now. ...Why's this got you so upset, anyway? You really worried about
some homeless teenager knowing who's behind the mask?”

“That homeless teenager is in a pretty desperate situation. He basically told me that if I tell the
authorities, he'll tell...someone who I am. He didn't specify who.”

“Ahh, I think I get it.” I take a drag on my cigarette and exhale the smoke from the side of my
mouth. “You thought it was me because you know I'm not keen on telling the authorities.”

“He's just a kid, Caleb. He's too young to be playing dad to four other kids.”

“He'll still be too young for it when he's eighteen. Only difference then is it will be legal for him
to do it.” She is quiet for awhile, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “...Don't do it, Tahira.
Don't turn him in.”

“...I'm not going to,” she says flatly.

I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? Miss Goody-Two Shoes Darling-of-the-Capital is actually

acknowledging that there might be a flaw in the system?”

She raises an eyebrow right back. “Did you just make a Hunger Games reference?” I grin,
shrugging non-committally. She sighs, looking away. “I never thought the system was perfect.”

“You were never a rebel, though, either. Even when the DA had a bug up her ass to put you and
everyone like you under arrest, you still thought you could work with her.”

“And I was proven right, wasn't I.”

“So why aren't you gonna turn the kid in?”

“Well, he's got me over a barrel, doesn't he.”

“No, he doesn't. Silas Prescott had you over a barrel, and you responded by—to all
appearances—blowing him up and yourself with him. This is a teenager. When he and his
family are being separated by CPS, do you really think he'll do any damage if she starts shouting
that he knows the true identity of Dragonness?”

“...All it takes is for him to tell the wrong person, just once...”

“Bullshit. Come on. You're the hero of Northbridge. Why can't you just admit that you don't
want to see this kid's family broken up? It's not like it's out of character.”

“Okay, fine!” She throws up her hands in surrender. “I don't trust the foster system to keep all
five of them together! And call me nuts, but I feel responsible for this kid considering that his
parents and his cousins' parents make up half the death toll from the Battle of Northbridge!”

That stops me for a moment. “Woah...really?”

“Yes. Really.”

“Well. ...That fucking sucks, doesn't it.”

She doesn't respond to that. After a moment, she asks, “So, what was this plan I know you told
Talos?”

I smirk. “If you know I told Talos, you can ask Talos, can't you.”

“I'm asking you, though.”

I take a moment to puff at my cigarette. “Okay...here's the deal: we both know the Prism Crystal
comes from La Huerta. Everett Rourke's island.”

“It's his kids' island now, but go on.”

“Right. Well, I've got a few suspicions about La Huerta and the Island's Heart and Taylor
Chandler, based on what Gigi's said and everything that's been going down. I don't know how
much you and Talos and Minuet know, but I plan to find out as much as I can on my own.”

She frowns, looking wary. “So...why bother telling me? I mean, if you can learn everything you
need to know on your own, that takes away any incentive to earn our trust.”

“Maybe because I know I might not learn everything. There still might be gaps you'll be able to
fill in. ...Besides, I'm getting the feeling shit's gonna go down sooner rather than later, shit you
have said is bigger than us or Prescott or Northbridge. And when it does, I'll sleep easier if I've
got Dragonness and her gang on my side. It's in my interest to keep you informed.”

She smirks. “Why don't you just admit you like us and get it over with?”
“'Cause I don't. Not Talos anyway. And not you so much. Minuet is kinda cool.”

“Will you at least admit you're scared?”

I meet her gaze and hold it. “That I can do without hesitation. I don't need to fake being a tough
guy who doesn't know fear. I'm not an idiot. I know when I should be scared.”

There is surprise and respect in the slight inclination of her head and the soft hum of
acknowledgment. “So, how do you plan to find out what you want to know?”

“By going directly to the source. I've gone through all the red tape and gotten the right fake ID's
and passes to pull this off, and I'm scheduled to start this week.”

“...Start what?”

“I'm going undercover, Dragonness. My new persona is gonna be Hugh Harding, an aspiring
writer of true crime and conspiracy theories.” I smirk, feeling abundantly pleased with myself.
“I'm gonna interview Everett Rourke.”

Taylor

The exam room is quiet as I lie on the table, waiting for the ultrasound technician. With Jake
beside me, holding my hand, it's almost peaceful. But I can't seem to stop my heart from racing.
I breathe as deeply as I can, trying to think calming thoughts. Jake kisses the back of my hand.

“It's gonna be okay, Princess,” he murmurs. I turn to look at him and he smiles down at me.
“You've been doing great. Everything's gonna be fine.”

I smile sheepishly back. “You're probably right. But I can't really help but be nervous.”

“Here. Maybe this will help.” He reaches into his pocket and draws out the red handfasting
ribbon that we got from his grandparents' house back in Louisiana. I smile as he winds it
around our joined hands. With my assistance, he ties it in a knot. “There. No land, no sea, no
one...”

“...will keep apart those who are destined,” I finish.

“Damn straight.” He bends to kiss me, stroking my hair with his free hand. “I love you, Taylor.”

“I love you, Jake.”

The ultrasound tech opens the door, greeting us cheerfully. Her eyes flick briefly to the ribbon
around our hands, raising a questioning eyebrow. Jake and I exchange a playful grin.

“Don't mind this,” he says. “Just a little good luck ritual.”

She shrugs. “Fair enough. You ready to rock here?”

I roll up my shirt as best I can with one hand. Jake has to help me, but we manage to get it
tucked up over the brow of my baby bump.

“Goo me up, chief!” Jake snorts at my words, and the tech chuckles. She spreads the jelly over
my stomach and makes small talk as she manipulates the wand, turning on the screen. It's
facing away from us at the start, but after less than a minute, she smiles and turns it toward us.
I feel my breath catch in my throat at the sight on the screen. A small head in profile, an eye, an
ear, a nose, and tiny lips sucking a tiny thumb.

“...It's a baby...” I whisper. “...It's a human baby...”

The tech laughs. “Very much so. Are you hoping to learn the sex today?”

“That's the plan.”

“Well, let's see if this little person is gonna give me a good look.”

My eyes are glued to the screen as she manipulates the wand, talking me through the images,
assuring me that everything looks perfect, that there are no abnormalities or anything that
would cause concern. I feel Jake's hand tighten around mine as the tech brings the wand to
hover over the baby's bottom. For a moment, everyone is quiet, just watching the screen. I
squint, trying to make out what I'm seeing.

“So...” Jake finally speaks up. “...What are we actually looking at?”

“You are looking at your very healthy little girl,” the tech responds. “Congratulations, kids. You
have a daughter.”

Chapter 35: Hugh Harding, Ace Reporter

Summary:
Caleb takes on Rourke to learn the truth about the Island's Heart.
Chapter Text

Tahira
The events of Thanksgiving weekend have me reeling. Between Grayson's concerns about his
father, Caleb's plan to interview Everett Rourke, and the whole situation with Dylan and his
family, I'm not sure where to start sorting it all out in my mind. I feel like I ought to call my
cousin in California. I know we've only just met, but we're family, and there's plenty of this that
directly affects her. Or that could directly affect her. As it happens, she ends up calling me
before I can work out whether to call her, mostly to tell me that her baby is going to be a girl.

“How exciting!” I respond with what I hope sounds like an appropriate amount of enthusiasm.

“Especially for those of our friends who guessed correctly,” she chuckles.

“Yeah? How many of them got it right?”

“Let's see...Craig, Estela, Diego, and Michelle all guessed girl. Jake's mother was also adamant I
was having a girl, so she's gloating at my sister-in-law, who was equally adamant it was a boy.
...Mike thought it was a boy, too, but Jake said if he found out Mike was putting money on the
sex of his kid, he would put something nasty in his shampoo like he did when they were in the
academy together.”

I chuckle. “Well, congratulations.”

“How is everything on your end?”

“Oh...it's fine.” I hesitate a moment before adding, “Thanksgiving weekend got kind of crazy.”

“Crazy as in lots of people and chaos in a normal holiday kind of way? Or...crazy as in those
people created very unwelcome and dramatic chaos?”

“...More of the latter,” I admit. “I'm almost reluctant to say. I don't want to rain on your parade.”

“Never mind that. What's going on?”

I'm reluctant, but in the end, I tell her everything. Everything that happened over Thanksgiving
weekend, from Grayson's fears that his father may have learned something about the Janus
Project to Caleb deciding to interview Everett Rourke to the situation with Dylan and his family.
She's quiet when I finish, enough that for a moment I wonder if she hung up or if we've been
cut off. But then I hear a soft, wet sniff.

“...Taylor? Are you crying?”

“Yeah. The stuff about the kids kinda got to me. Pregnancy hormones, impending
motherhood...you know...”

“It got to me, too,” I admit. “And I'm not having a baby. ...What about the rest of it? Are
you...okay?”
“Not...particularly. But Rourke has been hanging over my head since I got home in June. I haven't
ever really been able to believe that it's over.”

“Is there anything you think we should do?”

“I don't think anything can be done at this point. Or...maybe we should just let Caleb go through
with his plans.”

“Do you think he'll learn anything we don't already know? You know Rourke better than I do.”

“It's difficult to say,” she admits. “Rourke...he is a master manipulator. He also knows how to play
his cards close to his chest when he needs to—and when to tip his hand. If he is planning
something...well...some of it may depend on whether or not he believes Caleb is who he claims to
be. If he is planning something, it may be better for us if he knows who Caleb is. If he believes he
can manipulate Caleb to his advantage, he will try that. If Caleb can play the double agent to our
advantage without giving himself away to Rourke...”

“That would require placing a lot of trust in Caleb. I don't think I'm prepared to do that yet. I
know Kenji and Eva aren't, either. Kenji is adamant that letting Caleb go through with this is a
horrible idea when he knows who I am. ...Not that I think I could actually stop him. ...I did tell
him I expect to be kept informed. I expect to be able to listen to the recordings. I know it's not
impossible he'll still be able to hide information from me, but it at least means he'll have to give
me something.” I am quiet for a moment. “You know, I still feel guilty laying all this on you at a
time like this. You should be celebrating, not hearing all this grim stuff.”

“We can't control our circumstances. Only how we react to them.”

“You're quoting your father. ...My uncle.”

“That's right. Your uncle. ...I admit, I had hoped we'd have more time before it all hit the fan. I had
hoped I'd have time to give birth and recover from giving birth. In my present condition, I can't
imagine running around and fighting the way I did on the island.”

“No. You let the rest of us worry about fighting if it comes to it.”

“I guess I won't have much of a choice,” she agrees wryly. “Keep me posted, okay? Don't hide
anything from me. I want to know everything. For my daughter's sake.”

Caleb

You know, even having seen him on TV and in magazines and everything, I'm still kinda thrown
when I see Everett Rourke in person for the first time. Maybe it's because I expected his time in
prison might show on him. That after five years, he might look haggard or scruffy. I know that
no matter how many times I went in and out of prison, I never looked the same coming out as
going in. But clearly Everett Rourke is another kind of animal altogether. He wears his inmate's
jumpsuit like a fucking Armani suit. His hair and goatee are neatly trimmed and impeccably
groomed. He's freshly bathed and strides into the room on a fragrant cloud of Old Spice. It's
possible he just cleaned up for the interview, but somehow, I don't think that's the case. His
skin is far too smooth and healthy for this to have been the result of putting any unusual
amount of effort into his appearance.

They have me in what looks like an interrogation room, sitting on a hard chair at a metal table.
Rourke casts a critical eye over the room and sniffs disdainfully.

“Such an unfriendly environment. Hardly appropriate when one has guests.” He looks at me
with an apologetic smile. “I do hope they haven't made you feel unwelcome, Mister...Harding,
was it?”

“That's right. And no, they haven't.”

“Well, you should see the tomb they put my children in when they visit. This is quite homey by
comparison.”

“Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Rourke.”

He takes my suggestion, sitting down opposite me at the table. He never once takes his eyes off
my face.

“I admit, it was quite a surprise to me to hear that anyone was interested in interviewing me
since I am presently disgraced. My children are ruling my empire at the moment.”

“Yes, but you see, my interest is not in your empire. At least, not your industrial empire. I am
trying to tell the story of the summer of 2017, and how it happened that all those people
vanished while they were on your island.”

“Mmm, I see. Have you also made arrangements then to interview the Selected?”

“You mean the kids who won the contest? Yeah, I've been in touch with some of them,” I lie.
“But you're the first person I'm actually interviewing.”

“Well. Don't I feel special then.”

He tents his fingers, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. Yeah, this guy definitely has an air of
evil genius to him. I pull my phone out of my bag and set it on the table between us. Rourke
eyes it, arching one eyebrow questioningly.

“For records,” I explain.

“Ahh. Of course.”

I open a sound recording app and tap the green button. “Shall we get started?”

“You're the writer here. I am ready if you are.”

“Okay. Well...first I guess I should get a little background. You're obviously a leader in
numerous industries, but you made most of your fortune in communication and transportation
technology. What made you decide to open a resort in the Caribbean?”

“As a young man in my twenties, I was shipwrecked on the volcanic island that would come to
be known as La Huerta. The island was entirely uninhabited, though there was evidence that I
was not the first person to stumble upon it. In fact, the name appeared to have been assigned
by the Spanish conquistadors. The prevailing theory is that whatever native population was
initially living there was wiped out by those same conquistadors. There was also evidence of
pirates making their base on the island during either the first or third period of the Golden Age
of Piracy. But settlements on the island had apparently not lasted. Not that anyone could tell,
that is.

“Now...I could tell you that I merely saw an opportunity and snapped it up. I was already a
billionaire by that point, hungry for new adventures and with money to burn. Why shouldn't I
just decide to buy myself a small Caribbean island and sink a few million dollars into a luxury
resort? It would be an adventure, and what was a few million dollars to me?” He leans forward,
folding his hands on the table and locking his gaze with mine. “But let me ask you this, Mr.
Harding: if I gave you that explanation as to why I bought La Huerta and built The Celestial,
would you believe me?”

I actually take a moment to consider that. Would Rourke have been the type of industrial
billionaire to blow a chunk of his fortune building a luxury resort in the Caribbean with no
previous experience running a hotel just on a whim? Just for the fun of it?

“No. That's not your style. If you're going to show off your fortune, you'll do it with a luxury
yacht, multiple mansions for you and yours, the most expensive cars. Things people can see.”

“And people can't see a five-star resort on a privately owned Caribbean island?” It's voiced
casually, but it's a loaded question. He's testing me.

“When people take vacations to the Caribbean, they aren't thinking about how rich the owner
of the resort they're staying in is. They're thinking about how rich they are that they can afford
to stay there.”

He chuckles. “Well. You should have seen The Celestial in her glory days. I made sure my face
was embedded in the consciousness of my guests. Something my children have mocked me for
endlessly, I can assure you. Still. You are absolutely correct. This was no whim. I have no doubt
that the Selected will tell you I am mad. But they will be lying. They know the truth as well as I
do.”
“And what is the truth?”

He sits back, tenting his fingers again. “La Huerta was not just any island. It once had a rare
power. A power that was just waiting to be harnessed.” Something dark crosses his face.
“But she defied me.”

“...She...?”

“Why, Taylor Chandler, of course. The Mystery.”

“Is that why you imprisoned her?”

“...'Imprisoned'?” A serpentine smile curves his mouth. “...Oh, right. That's what they're saying,
isn't it. That I imprisoned her in a stasis tube, and she was found by the Selected on their annual
reunion.”

“Are you saying that you didn't imprison her?”

“I did not.”

“Then...how did she get into the stasis tube?”

He laughs. “Oh, my dear boy. She was never in any stasis tube. Not in this timeline anyway. I am
not positive where they actually found her, but it was not inside a stasis tube.”
I am quiet for a very long time, staring at the man across from me. 'This timeline'? If Taylor
wasn't found in a stasis tube, where was she found?

“...I think you'd better tell me the whole story.”

“Oh, I fully intend to. I first began to suspect that the island was not what it appeared when I
looked up at the stars...”

***

“...It was my daughter's mother who first worked out that the Endless could cross time and space
as easily as you will walk out the door of this place. Time and space were its playthings. My
Olivia...my beautiful, brilliant Olivia...she was the one who figured that out...”

I watch Tahira's expression carefully as she sits on the couch at the clock tower with the phone
placed on the table in front of her. So far, she isn't giving anything away. Her face is like a stone.
Minuet leans over her, resting her arms on the back of the couch. Talos stands against the wall
nearest the balcony, arms folded across his bronze chest. Tahira is the only one unmasked in
front of me, but none of them are giving anything away, listening in stoic silence.

“...Chasing the lead on the Endless brought us to the photograph.”

“The photograph?” my recorded voice asks.
“Eleven young people. The photograph was dated to be five-hundred years old.”
At that point, my gut had told me there was no way photography was around that long, and I
had done some quick mental math. “That would have been...fifteen-hundred and something-or-
other. How is that possible?”
“Don't imagine my team and I were not all asking the same question. Photography was new in the
age of Queen Victoria. So how had a photograph of eleven young people in modern dress been
dated to the same century that the Tudor Dynasty reigned? That is why I sent my intelligence
force to seek them out. And they found them. Jacob McKenzie, Diego Soto, Zahra Namazi, Grace
Hall, Estela Montoya, Sean Gayle, Quinn Kelly, Raj Bhandarkhar, Michelle Nguyen, Craig Hsiao.
...All except for one.”
“...Taylor Chandler?”
“Yes. Taylor. ...A fitting name for the one who would bring down my empire, don't you think?”
“I...guess?”
“You have know idea what I mean.” Rourke sighs and I recall the way he rolled his eyes. “Taylor
is the Latinized form of a germanic name, the elements of which are believed to be Visigothic. The
Visigoths were the tribe that sacked Rome in 410, an event which led to the fall of the Roman
Empire. It is also best known as the name of a ninth-century Spanish martyr. Chandler doesn't
have any significance, of course. It's an old French name meaning 'candle-maker'.”

I had still been a little unsure what he was getting at, and had merely nodded before trying to
steer the conversation back on track.

“So...you couldn't find her...?”

“Not a trace. It was as if she didn't exist at all. In the end, it appeared I wouldn't have time to
waste searching for her, though. Mount Atropo was due to erupt in an event that would turn the
world into Pompeii, and I had to get the Selected to the island before that happened if there was to
be any hope of reversing it.”

Tahira taps the pause button, and the recording silences obligingly. She rubs her hands over
her face, but she doesn't say anything.

“...There's still more,” I point out. “...He went on about how the world burned in the eruption,
but La Huerta stayed safe inside a time bubble. He said more about Taylor, too. And the Island's
Heart.”

“Like what?”

“He said that Taylor is the Endless. But that once he had the Island's Heart, he didn't think he
needed her any longer. At that point, our time was running out, so he said he'd tell me a little
more next time.”

“What do you make of it all?”

“Well, it sounds crazy, said one superhuman to three others.” I shrug. “I dunno. I got questions.
Like, what makes Rourke so sure the world was destroyed by lava when no one else believes it
was? And why couldn't his people find any information on someone who apparently turned out
to be an ordinary college student? And I got a theory that the answers aren't gonna be simple.”

“Well, no. We aren't dealing with anything simple here. ...When do you go back?”

“A couple days. He seems keen to talk, and I want to get as much out of him as possible ASAP.”

Tahira is quiet for a long moment. Finally, she hands me back my burner phone. “...Keep going
with this, Caleb. Let us know what you find out.”

“So, carry on as planned. Got it.”

“Right.” She stands sharply, reapplying her mask. Talos and Minuet react to this by standing to
attention, looking questioningly at their leader.

“Wait, what's happening now?” Talos asks.

“I'm going out,” Tahira replies flatly. “For a...fly. I need to clear my head.”

I snort. “The dark costume's getting to you, Dragonness. You're kinda playing the brooding hero
thing a bit thick.” She throws a wordless snarl at me, scowling. I can't hold back a shiver.
“Though I gotta admit, you're damn scary when you want to be, in an incredibly sexy, don't-
wanna-mess-with-you kinda way.”

She stops, curling her hands into fists. Then, without warning, she whips around and flies at me,
grabbing me by the shirt and pinning me against the wall.

“Here's a tip then, Caleb,” she growls. “Don't mess with me.”

She sets me down and streaks off out the window without another word. I straighten my
clothes, brushing off my jacket.

“Jesus, she's moody lately.” Now Talos and Minuet glare at me.

“I swear to god,” Minuet growls, “if you make one 'time of the month' joke...”

“I wasn't actually going to until you said it, but that would make sense.”

“Here's a wild thought,” Talos snaps. “Maybe you make her moody!”

“Oh, and why should that be the case?” I quip.

“I know you're being sarcastic, asshole, but let me explain it to you anyway: you are
interviewing a very dangerous man, with a lot of very dangerous information, some of which
we know, and a lot we probably don't. And we've made the decision not to stop you, but we
don't know if we can trust you. And if you betray us, she knows that we're gonna pay in a
million ways before we make you pay.”

“Yeesh. You're a tough nut to crack, aren't you? I mean, wasn't Minuet a thief before she joined
your little gang of heroes?”

“Minuet never put a sword through my gut.”

I smirk. “Or tried to kill your girlfriend?”

“Enough, okay? Meiko Katsaros is not my girlfriend!”

“Wasn't talking about the D.A. The way you look at Dragonness kinda gives you away.” I should
probably shut up now. I'm probably about to say something really stupid. Talos snorts.

“Are you saying you think I'm Grayson Prescott?”

“God, no. Unless you have the ability to be in two places at once. I was there at the Battle of
Northbridge, remember? ...Though for the record, I think you're a much better match for the
great Dragonness than a pretty-boy billionaire normal. But I guess the appeal of him is hard to
deny. When she grew up with next to nothing, the money is probably a big draw. Plus he's not
bad to look at.”

Talos pushes himself off the wall, striding purposefully toward me, his bronze teeth bared.

“Okay, asshat, you just insulted two of my friends at once, and I think that's earned you a bust
in the jaw!”

“Oh, is it an insult to say she grew up po--” I choke as his bronze hand closes around my throat.

“It's an insult to call her a gold-digger!”

“Okay, enough!” Minuet groans. “Talos, let him go. Caleb, get the fuck out of our tower.”

Talos releases me with obvious reluctance, turning away sharply. I don't try to get in a last
word before turning to make my way down the stairs.

Tahira

A part of me feels a little guilty for being rough with Caleb. But that guilt is far overwhelmed by
my worry. I am doing nothing to stop him from speaking to Everett Rourke, who seems entirely
too keen on revealing vital information regarding my cousin. I'm worried about what Caleb
might do with that information. I'm worried about what Rourke might be planning. I am
worried about how Silas Prescott may be involved. I am worried it might come back to hurt
Grayson. I'm worried about everything.

But flying helps to clear my head a little. I pick up speed and push beyond the city limits, out
into the suburbs. It's late, and it's dark, and the Christmas lights in the village centers stand out
in the darkness beneath me. I push myself higher, until the lights below look like multi-colored
stars. The sky above me is clouded, and the ground beneath me is foggy. Two dark, misty
oceans dotted with pinpricks of light. I stretch my body out parallel to the horizon and rotate
slowly like meat on a spit. I start to feel dizzy after a few rotations, losing track of which dark
sea is the earth, and which is the sky. Even as the dizziness starts to become unpleasant, the
effect is calming. You might think the power of flight would remind me that I am something
rare, which in turn would remind me of my responsibilities, my worries, my burdens...but it's
hard to feel significant when you're caught between the earth and the sky and you can't really
tell which is which.

“Tahira?” Eva's voice crackles through my mask. “You all right?”

“Feeling better now, Eva. Thanks. Sorry to storm off on you guys.”
“Hey, no problem. The tower's clear if you wanna come back and change before you head home.”
“Thanks. I will.”

I carefully right myself, turning until gravity pulls my hair back down toward my shoulders.
The earth and sky start to become distinguishable again. But I realize very quickly that I'm not
quite sure where I am.

“Hey, Marci?” I call sheepishly.

“Good evening, Tahira!” she chirps. “How can I help you?”

“I'm hoping you have GPS. Because...I don't really know where I am right now.”

***

The following Sunday finds me back in Bayside at St. Catherine's just before noon. The last
Mass service of the morning is just wrapping up when I slip inside. At least, I think it should be.
I looked up Mass times on the internet, and the last one was scheduled to begin at eleven this
morning. I can't imagine it could take more than an hour. There's a hymn going on when I step
through the doors, projected into the vestibule through a speaker system. Through the doors
into the main chapel area, I can see people moving in steady lines up the aisle, towards the
priest and associates holding bowls and cups of what I think must be communion wafers and
wine. I linger in the vestibule with several older men in suits who glance at me as if they're not
sure why I'm just standing there, but they don't question it. The last notes of the hymn fade,
and the last of the congregation shuffle back to their seats. The priest's voice comes through the
speakers, speaking ritual words that wash over me. Finally, I hear what I'm waiting for:

“The Mass has ended. Go in peace, glorifying the Lord with your life.”
Within a few minutes, the congregation are shuffling out. I keep my eyes peeled, looking for
Dylan, his brother, or his cousins. But so far, I don't see them. I see a bunch of faces that range
from total strangers to vaguely familiar, aged infant to old and wrinkled. But none of them are
any of the children I'm looking for. Maybe the priest knows. But if he doesn't would that count
as telling? Maybe I can do it carefully. Say I'm looking for my niece and nephews that I was
supposed to pick up after church. I've been a superhero for awhile now. I should be okay at
casually lying by now, right? I steel myself and step into to the sanctuary—and feel my jaw go
slack.

They're here. All five kids are right here, treating the sanctuary like their own living room while
the priest puts out the candles. The sanctuary is decorated in anticipation of Christmas, with
wreathes, holly garlands, and evergreens decorated with clear white lights. Ysabel and Alex are
sprawled out the steps in front of the altar, reading. Zig and RJ are crawling over the pews,
menacing each other with their action figures. Dylan is helping the priest when he looks up and
sees me hovering at the back of the sanctuary. Even from where I am, I can see the brief look of
panic that crosses his face before giving way to a scowl. He rearranges his features into
something more neutral before going to whisper something to the priest. The priest glances
over his shoulder, and nods before turning his focus back on his work. Dylan marches down the
aisle towards me, his expression determined.

“RJ! Zig! Settle down! All of you, I want you to get started on your homework!”

“I left mine at the house!” RJ protests.

“What?!” Dylan stops to glare at his brother. “Didn't I tell you to bring your homework so you
could work on it while I helped Father Le?”

RJ shrugs, grinning. “I forgot.”

Dylan groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “Okay, okay. Just...sit down and play quietly,
okay? You're gonna get the pews all dirty, and the last thing I need is one of you falling off and
getting hurt!”

“Listen to your brother,” the priest—Father Le—agrees mildly. “We've already had one of you
in the hospital this week, and that is quite enough. Come sit down by the altar.” RJ and Zig
reluctantly do as they're told, and Dylan resumes his walk toward me.

“You shouldn't have come here,” he hisses when he gets close enough. He grabs my arm
roughly, as if he means to drag me out of the sanctuary, but he stumbles when I don't go along
with him. For a moment he looks confused, and gives my arm another tug. Then he scowls and
lets go.

“...Right,” he sighs. “Your weight-lifting program includes cars, doesn't it.”

“Among other things. Now, if you want me to go somewhere with you, how about asking
politely?”
I see his jaw tighten. I'm sure no teenage boy likes being shown up by a grown woman in front
of his family. But a big part of me thinks he needs to learn a few manners—and maybe a gentle
lesson about not taking on people who are stronger than he is.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Would you please join me somewhere quiet so we can talk privately?”

“I would be glad to. Lead the way.”

Grumbling under his breath, he leads me through the vestibule to a quiet room off to the side
with a conference table and chairs. He shuts the door behind him.

“I meant it, you know. You shouldn't have come here.”

“Yes, well, it's a church. I'm allowed to be here. Besides, I let you into my home.”

He frown. “You don't really live in the clock tower, do you?”

I can't help smirking a little. “What's it to you?”

He rolls his eyes. “You're gonna be a pain about this, aren't you.”

“Only if you are. ...Here's a hint: ask me why I'm here.”

“Okay, fine! Why are you here?”

“Thought I should check up on you. Wanted to see how Ysabel was recovering.”

“She's fine. I bought her a stuffed dragon from the gift shop at the hospital with the money
Grayson gave me. She calls it Sei-Sei.”

“Crown and the Flame reference, right?” I frown. “Isn't that show kinda...mature for her?”

“By her parents' standards, it would be too mature for anyone. But she secretly read the books
in the library. ...I'm not gonna let her watch the show until she's eighteen, though.”

“Probably smart. The fight scenes are infinitely more gruesome on screen than in the books,
and of course the sex is played up. By the way, I'm glad to see you're not as alone as I feared
you were. The priest in there. Father Le. He knows your situation, doesn't he?”

“Yeah. We live with him in the clergy house. He likes having us around. He's alone otherwise.
...He doesn't make a lot of money as the priest of a Bayside parish, though. Not enough to
support five kids. So I still have to work.”

“But you don't have to sneak around and sleep in the sanctuary.”
“Nah. We don't have to do that.” He wanders around the room, examining the paintings on the
wall. A lot of Jesus and Mary portraits. I'm sure they all have sacred-sounding names, but I can't
think of them. He turns to look back at me. “...Are you Indian?”

The question takes me by surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“You look Indian. Or some kind of South Asian.”

“Kind of a rude question.”

He holds up his hands in a pose of surrender. “Sorry. Didn't mean to offend.”

“I'll let it pass. Honestly, I don't know what I am. I was a foundling.”

He frowns. “...What's a foundling?”

I find a chair and sit down. “An abandoned child. I don't know who my birth mother was, but
she left me when I was a baby.”

“So...you've never met your real mom and dad?”

“No, I've met my real mom. She's the woman who adopted me. The woman who raised me. The
woman who taught me how to ride a bike. The woman who held me while I cried over my first
broken heart.”

“...And then you got superpowers. Are you sure you're even human?”

I laugh. “Excuse you, but a superhero doesn't just reveal her origin story to every wide-eyed kid
she comes across. You have to read my comic book like everyone else.”

“Dragonness doesn't have a comic book.”

“Not yet!”

“When you do, are you going to share your origin story with the author?”

“What origin story? I got too close to Silas Prescott's Prism Gate when it exploded. Everyone
knows that.”

Dylan snorts. “So, you don't share your origin story because everyone already knows it. Lame.”
I chuckle, but my smile quickly fades. “...There is one thing I wanted to ask you about. I want
you to be honest with me.”

“Well, I'll try.”

“Have you ever taken Liquid Prism?”

“What? No! I don't do drugs! Especially not creepy ones like Liquid Prism. Besides, don't you
need like...a butt-ton of money to buy illegal drugs? Or to be in a gang or something? ...There are
gangs at my school, and some drug dealers...”

“Yeah. We had those at my school, too. Back in the day...” I look up at him. “...No one actually
told you that I was Dragonness. Did they.”

Dylan is quiet for a very long moment. “...I guess not.”

“So, how did you know?”

“I don't really know. I just...figured it out.”

“That's interesting. ...Because somehow, I knew your cousin had appendicitis because I could
feel her pain.”

Dylan looks sharply at me. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah. I wrote it off as menstrual cramps at first, but something made me realize that it was
something else entirely.”

“...What? What made you realize it?”

“I don't know exactly. ...When did you look at me and realize that Dragonness and I were the
same person?”

“At some point when you came to check on us at the hospital. You'd only been there as
Dragonness the one time, and I wasn't sure then. But the next time you came back as Tahira, I
started to feel like...I don't know, like your energy was the same as hers. As Dragonness's.” He
frowns, suddenly looking a little nervous. “...What do you think it means?”

“For the moment, I think it means that we shouldn't lose touch.” I hesitate a moment before
going on. “...Liquid Prism seems able to give people temporary enhancements across the board.
But who reacts to the Prism Crystal itself seems to be a matter of genetics. I'm not sure, but I
am wondering if you have the right genetics to react the way I and Talos and Minuet did.”

“You mean I might have superpowers?”

“Well, not now, you don't. But you might have the potential. I could be wrong, though. It's not
like I was ever able to sense other superhumans before. But there was something about your
cousin that let me sense when she was sick. And there is something about you that let you
sense my identity. Let me warn you right now that I'm not just going to stick you in a room with
the Prism Crystal and see if you react. ...But I think we should stay in touch.”
“...What about my brother and my cousins?”

“Well, I would like to stay in touch with them, too. ...For now, don't tell them who I really am. I'll
stick with interacting with them as Tahira for now, unless they need me to be Dragonness.”

Dylan is quiet for a moment, apparently considering all of this. “...Okay.”

“Great. ...Do you mind if I say hello to everyone? I'd like to meet your priest friend, too, if you'll
let me.”

He shrugs. “Like you said, this is a church. You're allowed here. ...What should I tell Father Le?”

“Just tell him the whole story minus the part where I'm Dragonness. I'm sure the boys have
already gone on about spending a few nights in the clock tower.”

He grins a little. “Boy, have they ever. Come on. I'll introduce you.”

He leads me back into the sanctuary, where the boys have all gathered around Ysa, who is
reading aloud from what sounds like a pre-teen mystery novel.

“Hey, everyone. Remember me?”

The kids look up, but it's clear the boys are struggling to place me as I am now, which isn't
surprising since they mostly interacted with Dragonness.

“I remember you!” Ysa declares. “You visited me in the hospital!”

“Is that right?” Father Le asks, raising an eyebrow. He comes down from the altar, holding out a
hand for me. “Welcome. I'm Father Nyut Le.”

“Tahira Rogers,” I reply, shaking his hand. “I was volunteering at the soup kitchen when Ysabel
got sick. ...It was my boyfriend who paid the bill.”

“Ahh, so you're Grayson Prescott's girlfriend. ...And a personal friend of the Hero of
Northbridge, I understand.”

I shrug. “Yeah, well...she saved me a few times. We keep in touch. Anyway, I just wanted to
check on Ysabel and make sure she was recovering all right.”

“She seems to be. We're still making her take it easy, of course, but everything has been going
smoothly.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Father Le regards me thoughtfully for a moment. “Dylan, will you get the vaccuum from the
closet? I'd like to run it before we head back to the house.” Dylan nods, exiting the sanctuary
through a door behind the altar. “Tahira, maybe you could give me a hand with something? I
need to go through the pews and make sure the hymnals are all put back in the racks, and it
goes faster with two people.”

“Sure, sounds easy enough.” I kinda get the sense he still wants to talk to me, though, so I make
sure to keep no more than two rows behind him as we sweep through the pews.

“Do you live in Bayside?”

“Georges Park, actually. So right next door. ...If you're worried, I already know what the kids'
current living situation is, and I'm not going to tattle.”

The priest nods. “I appreciate that.”

“...I kinda wonder why you're allowing it, though.”

“Because I am lonely. Because I do not like to see families split up. Because charity begins in
one's home. Take your pick.”

“Well...I'm certainly less concerned knowing they have you than I was when I thought they
were alone.”

“It is good of you to be concerned for some children you have barely met.”

“Yes, well...Call me a Good Sumaritan, but I can't ignore someone in need right in front of me.”

“You say Good Sumaritan like I'd use it as an insult,” Father Le remarks with amusement. I
smirk a little.

“I know some people who would. I've always been kind of a goody-two-shoes. The sort of kid
the other kids called the teacher's pet. Not because I was a genius at school or anything, but
because I always followed the rules, didn't make trouble...”

“As long as the rules you were following were not unjust, I don't see anything wrong with being
obedient to authority.”

“...Do you think it's unjust not to allow a fifteen-year-old to raise four kids?”

“Ultimately, no. But there are so many children in foster care, it can be easy for one or two or
five to slip through the cracks. If I can take them into my home so that they do not need to be
wards of the state, why shouldn't I?”

“But is it all above board? I mean, I'm not suggesting what you're doing is wrong morally, but...”
He sighs. “Strictly speaking, no. It is not all above board. I would very much like it to be, to be
able to legally foster them, but I am concerned about how it might be handled, whether they
would be permitted to stay with me while the process was being sorted out. And if something
went wrong and they were not allowed to...I worry about how Dylan would respond.”

I have to sigh at that. “I wish I could say I thought your fears were unfounded, but after
knowing Dylan for a few days, I have to say they're probably justified. He seems like a pretty
headstrong kid.”

“He wants to keep his family together after it was torn apart. It's a powerful motivation.” I
flinch. I can't entirely hide the fact that he's struck a nerve, and he notices. “...Are you all right?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just...dating the man whose father was responsible for the deaths of
that kid's family members.” I'm also the hero who tried and failed to stop it. “...I'm also friends
with someone who was there trying to stop him.”

“Of course. ...The events of that day hit all of us where we live.” I don't answer immediately. I
pick up another hymnal and place it on the rack on the back of the pew. Father Le does the
same in his row.

“...You don't mind if I drop by sometimes to visit the kids?”

“All are welcome in this place. This is a house of God.”

“I'm...not actually Catholic.”

“I'm not afraid of you infecting my congregation with subversive ideas,” Father Le quips,
smirking. I laugh.

“Funny. You're a funny priest.”

“You think all priests are dour-faced old curmudgeons, yelling at people not to have sex?”

“Or at least not to have it outside the confines of marriage. And not to enjoy it within those
confines.”

“If God didn't mean for people to enjoy sex, He wouldn't have made it so much fun.”

“Have you ever had sex?”

“With another person? No. But...you will be hard-pressed to find anyone past their teenage
years who never had an orgasm.”

“Okay, definitely a conversation I never thought I would have with a priest.”

“I haven't always been a priest.” At that moment, Dylan comes back with the vaccuum, and
Father Le looks at me. “...Do you mind if we slip into the confessional for a moment? I would
like to continue our conversation, and it will soon become difficult to hear.”

I hesitate for a moment, but I decide there is really no harm in what he's asking. I step into the
confessional room and take a seat. He takes a seat on the other side, and the doors close.

“So...how does this actually work? Is it really the 'bless me, Father, for I have sinned' thing?”

“Are you planning to make a confession, my daughter?”

I chuckle. “You're the one who invited me in.”

“Ahh, of course. I suppose this is my confession. Or...more like a thing I want you to know. You
see...like I said, I have not always been a priest. I was once the American-born son of
Vietnamese refugees who came over after the war. ...I still am, I suppose. I was also a boy who
loved comic books.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

“All of them. Marvel, DC, Spider-man, Superman, Batman...it didn't matter.”

I shift a little uncomfortably, suddenly feeling uneasy. “...Are you about to tell me you're the
villain from the Shyamalan movie?”

He laughs. “No, no, no. ...The thing is that since the incident with the Prism Crystal, the comic
books I loved as a boy have been coming to life.”

“...Yeah, but it isn't so fun in real life.”

“No. You know, the war in Vietnam was a terrible loss to this country. Left many
people...disillusioned. Especially the surviving soldiers.”

“There were a lot of mistakes made in that war.”

“Yes, there were. There are always mistakes in war. I have met several veterans of that war in
my life. They all suffer the weight of mistakes, both their own, and their country's. ...I expect
your friend Dragonness feels her mistakes, too.”

...Wait...Oh, for goodness' sake...

“...Yeah. She is. She's told me as much.”

“There is no easy way to fix that. As a very young man in the seminary, I thought God would
come through to heal all wounds all on His own. ...But if that were His way, people would not
need each other. ...Look after Dragonness. Make sure she doesn't forget to lean on the people
who care about her.”

“Right. I'll...tell her that. Thanks. Um...bless me, Father, or whatever...” I have to get out of this
room. I nearly knock Dylan over with the door as I push it open. “...Were you...eavesdropping on
a confessional?”

Dylan blushes and stumbles back, stammering. “I...I couldn't hear anything.”

“I expect that's by design.” Father Le emerges from the other confessional door, smiling
placidly. “...Listen, I'm gonna take off. I know you kids have homework, and I have chores,
so...you have a good day. Dylan, care to see me out?”

“Well, I--”

I put an arm firmly over his shoulder, pulling him to my side. “Thanks.” As I march him outside,
I murmur, “...You told the priest, didn't you.”

He groans. “No, I didn't. I mean...I didn't mean to. I told him I had figured out who Dragonness
was, and that she was the woman who helped us. ...You kinda told him the rest when you
introduced yourself.”

It's my turn to groan. I take my arm off his shoulder to rub both hands over my face. “Oh, my
god, kid. You are gonna be the worst kind of trouble for me.”

“...Sorry. I won't tell anyone else.”

I exhale slowly until I'm able to turn and smile at him. “I'll be in touch. You find me if you need
me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He goes back inside and I start down the steps. I've barely reached the sidewalk when I pull out
my phone and punched in a number. I can already feel the tears starting as I press it to my ear
and listen to the melodic purr on the other end. Grayson's voice answers me.

“Hey, Tahira. Always a pleasure.”

“Hey, Grayson.” My voice is thick and husky with unshed tears. Grayson, of course, picks up on
this.

“...Are you okay?”

“I'm okay. Just...is it all right if I come over?”

“Sure. Of course. ...What's going on?”

“It's nothing to worry about. I just...I kinda feel like I need someone to lean on.”

Zahra

“Have you shown this to Taylor yet?”

I'm in the Northbridge office of Rourke International, my bare feet propped up on the desk,
munching on an apple as I look at the image on the page in front of me. It's a digital painting of
Taylor, way more advanced than the technology of the mid-90's should have allowed—and
definitely too detailed to be anyone else. Except that it was painted in 1995, the year before she
was born. The datestamp puts it in July, so her mom would have been pregnant at the time. Not
that being pregnant means that she should have been able to so accurately paint her unborn
child as a 20-something young woman.

The documents arrived by airmail this morning. I immediately got on a video call with my two
bosses.

“No,” Aleister sighs. “We're...not inclined to alarm her right now.”

“I'm not comfortable with the idea of keeping secrets from her,” Estela murmurs. “Especially
regarding her mother.”

“She won't thank you for it,” I agree.

“Just until we know a little more...”

“We're always saying that,” Estela sighs. “Aleister...this is her mother. Someone she's never had the
chance to know.”

I watch Aleister's reaction carefully. If anything would sway him towards telling Taylor about
all this, it would probably be a comment like this from his sister. Even over a computer screen I
can see the conflict in his face.

“...Perhaps...you would indulge me enough to agree that these files ought to be given to Taylor as a
Christmas gift then? When we're in California for New Year's Eve?”
“Thus giving us three weeks to go over the files and remove anything that might 'alarm' her?” I
take a bite of my apple and chew it to a managable mouthful before shifting it into my cheek.
“On the one hand, I don't like it. I don't like keeping secrets from her. On the other hand...the
idea of giving her these notes on her mom as a Christmas gift does appeal to me. Though I did
already get her some kickass onsies for the baby.”
“The baby is the reason why Grace and I sent these to you before we sent them to her,” Aleister
informs me as I resume chewing. “The reason why we don't want to upset her.”
“Aleister, she's stronger than you give her credit for.”
“It isn't a question of strength, Estela. I still don't want to hurt her. Not at a time like this, when
she should be able to focus on herself and her child.”
I swallow my apple bite. “Okay, okay, let's table this for now, all right? I'll see what else I can
find on Cassandra Chandler and all these little projects she was working on. In the meantime, I
guess we all keep our mouths shut.”
“I still don't like this,” Estela grumbles.

“I don't either. But I'd rather not act unless we're all on board. I mean, I can't stop you if you
decide to say something...” Estela just grunts, which I interpret as her saying she won't say
anything. I chuckle. “Okay, I'm gonna get on this. Bye, bosses.”

Caleb

My session with Rourke was particularly creepy today. I guess he told me the whole story.
Taylor Chandler turned out to be the Endless and the Endless was a part of the broken Island's
Heart, and Taylor erased the world-ending volcanic eruption by giving her energy back to a
giant crystal and fading from the earth. ...He doesn't know how she got back.

I don't know how much of his story I buy. The fact that he believes it is kinda scary. He also kept
scratching at his right palm. I guess he could tell I was watching him do it, because he showed
off his stab wound. Didn't look like much, probably because he was only stabbed with a pencil.
Just a little black mark on his palm. But, he said, it was a mark he would probably have for the
rest of his life. He went into a scientific explanation as to why that was, but I kinda tuned him
out. Didn't really care. But it's all on the phone, so if Tahira wants to know why graphite marks
stay on the skin for thirty-plus years, she can learn.

About mid-afternoon on Friday evening, I let myself into the clocktower and climb the stairs,
but no one is there when I arrive, so I make myself comfortable. I'm sure I have the meeting
time right, but Tahira's late. I briefly consider swiping a snack for myself, but decide against it
in the end. I wander out onto the balcony to smoke while I wait. I'm about halfway through a
Camel when I hear the door open behind me.

“Hey, it's about time. Just gonna finish my cig before I come back i--” I cut myself off as I turn
and see who's actually in the doorway. It's not Tahira, either in or out of her Dragonness
costume. Ysabel, all bundled up in coat, mittens, scarf, and hat, with a cute little Snow White
backpack on her shoulders, stands awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hi, Caleb...”

I frown. “What are you doing here?”

“...Dragonness told Dylan we should come to the clock tower when we needed help.”

“Do you need help? Do your cousins and brothers know you're here?”

“No. But it's okay. Father Le is taking Dylan and Alex to the dentist, and Zig and RJ are going to a
sleepover birthday party for someone in their class.”

Still on the balcony, I take another drag on the cigarette and exhale the smoke out the side of
my mouth. “So, you just looking for someone to babysit you until someone gets home?”

“No, it's not that. I've been home alone before. ...But everyone else has met Dragonness already.
I didn't really get to see her because I was in the hospital. I just wondered if she was going to be
here...”

“Well, she's supposed to be here now, but she's late. Why don't you sit down and wait with me?
You hungry?”

“A little,” she admits, going to sit on the sofa.

I finish the Camel and stamp out the butt on the balcony before heading back inside. I wasn't
gonna pilfer a snack just for myself, but I'm sure Tahira wouldn't object to me feeding a hungry
kid. And as long as I'm feeding her, I might as well eat too.

I check out their minifridge and pantry, and manage to assemble a cheese, cracker, and
pepperoni platter for us, with a couple of root beers. I would have preferred real beer, but I
guess I'm not surprised that Tahira's sainted squad don't keep alcohol at their base. I take a
seat on the couch. I can't help noticing how Ysabel edges away from me.

“Come on, kid. I don't bite. Never bit you in the hospital, did I?”

“No,” she concedes. “...But you smell like a cigarette.”

I snort. “...Yeah, that's fair.” We start in on the cheese and crackers. “So, you're a Dragonness
fan?”

“Sure. I mean...she's cool and pretty...”

“She's definitely pretty, I'll give you that.” I cram a cracker topped with pepperoni and cheese
into my mouth. “But she's also kind of a girl scout.”

“What do you mean?”

“A goody-two-shoes. You know, like the kid in your class who you call the teacher's pet because
they're always sucking up to the teacher?”
She smirks a little. “I don't think Dragonness goes to school.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“She's too old to go to school anymore.”

“And how would you know that? She got her age posted somewhere? She could be in college.”

That seems to give her pause. “...Okay, maybe you're right. But I don't think it's really a bad
thing to be a teacher's pet. I mean, if you're snobby and mean about it, yeah. But not if you're
just smart and good at school.” She unzips her backpack and digs around a little. I balk slightly
as she pulls out a KitKat bar.

“Hey! What's that? You been holding out on me? After I fixed you this nice platter, too!”

She grins. “Don't be a baby. You can have some, too.”

“Nah, I'm good. But you could offer some to your hero over there.” I nod at where Tahira has
touched down on the balcony, clad in her sleek black suit. “You're late, Dragonness.”

“And I see you took that as an invitation to help yourself,” she retorts, striding into the tower
room. “...Who's your young friend here?”

I gotta wonder if she's ever going to accidentally let it slip who she really is. But so far, she
seems to be pretty good at remembering who Dragonness knows and who Tahira knows and
not getting them confused.

“I'm Ysabel. You met my brothers and my cousins when I was in the hospital.”

“Ahh, of course. I remember them. Glad to see you're feeling better.” She frowns. “But what are
you doing here?”

Ysabel blushes a little. “I...wanted to meet you. Since everyone else in my family has...”

A slight smile curves Tahira's lips. “I see. Well, here I am.” She holds out a gloved hand, which
Ysabel shakes eagerly. “A pleasure to meet you properly, Ysabel. I'm afraid I can't really hang
out today, though. I've got something very important to do tonight.”

Ysabel looks a little disappointed, but she hides it well. “Of course. I understand. You're
probably really busy.”

“It's the life of a superhero,” Tahira sighs. “But I can give you a ride home if you like.”

“...Can we fly there?”

“Since it's just the two of us? Absolutely.”

“You want me to hang around?” I ask. “...I got today's...report.”

She hesitates a moment. “...Actually, I would appreciate it if you could send the file in a text to
my phone. Something's come up, and I won't have time to get back here.”

I size her up for a moment before nodding. “...Yeah. Okay.”

She turns back to Ysabel, smiling brightly as she scoops the girl up in her arms. “You got
everything? Then hold on tight. Don't worry, though. I promise I won't drop you.” She steps out
onto the balcony, turning back to me for a moment. “Clean up after yourself, Caleb. I don't want
to come back here to find cracker crumbs all over the place.”

Before I can retort, she's already taken off. I sigh, and set to work cleaning up, grumbling under
my breath.

“...Such a girl scout...”

Chapter 36: Lights in the Darkness

Summary:
It's December for the Catalysts and the supers. Time to celebrate

Notes:
This chapter is dedicated to Robin Metz (1942-2018). Robin was a professor of mine in college,
as well as my academic advisor, and the head of the writing department. My craft would not be
what it is today without his influence, and he will be missed.

On a happier note, I cannot believe I managed to get this chapter out by Christmas Eve. Happy
holidays, everyone!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Six

Lights in the Darkness

Tahira
A high-pitched electronic ding accompanies a message flashing the top of my vision as my mask
alerts me that Caleb has sent a text. Hopefully containing the audio files from his interview. I
touch down at the church, and dismiss the alert as I walk her to the clergy house. She thanks
me and I give her a hug goodbye, staying guard until she unlocks the door and gets inside. I take
flight again, heading towards Grayson's apartment.

I wasn't lying when I told Caleb that something came up. But I definitely implied it was
more...dire than it actually is. This isn't something that's important to the fate of the world, or
even the fate of Northbridge. But it is important to Grayson. And that makes it important to me.

I stashed a change of clothes at a library a few blocks away. Not inside the actual library, of
course, as that would be way too conspicuous. But the library is designed with an underground
parking garage beneath, and there is a place at the bottom of a grassy hill where several oaks
and the corner of the large brick wall that surrounds the library on three sides form an ideal
changing spot for the superhero on the go who needs to conceal her identity. It's not easily
accessible to anyone without the ability to fly and it doesn't face any windows, so ordinary
citizens don't usually pay any attention to it. I touch down and find the bag of clothes and
winter outerwear I left there this morning. I change in a hurry. December air is bitey in this
part of the country, even for a superhero. I stuff my supersuit in the backpack, slip it onto my
back, and check that the coast is clear before clearing the wall and casually rejoining the civilian
population.

Grayson

“Am I late?”

Tahira stands at the front door of my apartment building, shivering and huddled against the
bitter cold. It's started to snow, and the flakes coat her dark hair like a lace veil. I smile and
draw her into my arms, leading her inside.

“You're right on time. I've got cider waiting for us.”

Upstairs, I help her peel off her wet outerwear and press a warm mug of cider into her hands.
She savors the warmth as she brings the mug to her face to breathe in the scent.

“Mmm. Perfect.” She blows gently across the mug, stirring the amber surface, and then takes a
careful sip. “Yup. Perfect.”

“Good. At least that's a hit. I also tried my hand at latkes, but I don't know if I got it right.”

She grins a little. “How badly can you mess up a potato pancake?”
I grimace. “...Worse than you might think. Especially if you haven't even eaten one in years, let
alone ever made them solo...”

I trail off, feeling a pall start to creep over me. I turn toward the stove, where the latkes are still
sitting in the rapidly cooling oil coating the cast iron skillet. For some reason, my instinct is to
turn away from Tahira when I can't keep my expression from crumbling as tears spring to my
eyes. They don't fall and I don't choke on the lump in my throat, but it isn't as if Tahira can't
guess what's going through my mind. I hear the sound of ceramic gently meeting formica as she
sets her mug on the table, and then her strong arm encircles my waist. I let my arm drop over
her shoulder. For a moment, she says nothing. Then, she leans over the skillet and breathes
deeply.

“They smell pretty good.”

“I don't know why I'm doing this,” I murmur. “...I haven't even done Hanukkah in years...”

She rubs my back patiently. I said the same thing last night. I think she's realizing she's going to
get eight nights of me wondering why I'm celebrating a holiday I haven't celebrated since the
death of my grandmother. Dad hasn't celebrated or observed anything since Mom died, but for
awhile, Grandma kept it all going.

“...Do you want this?” she asks me. “Do you want to light the candles and sing the prayers and
eat latkes? I mean, it's kinda what I was expecting to do, but if you just want to talk or fool
around or watch a movie, I'm game for anything.”

“...I do want this...” I confess softly. “I just...I don't know why I should do it...”

I feel her hand on my cheek as she turns my face toward hers. “Because you want to do it,
Grayson. It really doesn't matter why you want to.” She kisses me gently. “Nothing and no one
will be damaged if you do.”

“...And if I don't?”

“Nothing and no one will be damaged by that, either. It's all up to you. But for the record...I
think you should.”

“...All right. Let's do this.”

Out in the living room, I dim the lights. The menorah sits on the credenza, flanked by
sentimental knick-knacks and framed photographs. It belonged to my grandmother, who left it
to me in her will. It's been a few years since I drew it out. I would not say that I have lost my
faith since she died. I don't believe I have built up walls or neglected my spirituality. Charity,
empathy, and kindness are still at the core of what I believe in. But I might concede that I've
lost touch with my culture. It's hard when the only family I have left has all but abandoned it.
But I'm starting to realize how much I want it back. I want to reconnect with my roots.
Hanukkah is a decent place to start. Perhaps the only support I have is my secular humanist
girlfriend, but I'm grateful for her. I am grateful for her encouraging me to perform the rituals
that remind me of times before everything in my life outside of her was falling apart.

I draw her close to my side as I light the candles and sing the prayers. What washes over me is
not quite calm. But when I finish the last note, and Tahira asks me if I feel better, I can honestly
answer that I do. She smiles and kisses me.

“Good.”

“Thank you for doing this with me, Tahira.”

“Of course.” She cups my cheek, stroking it gently. “At the darkest, coldest time of the year,
everyone should have something to celebrate, whether it's a holiday or something else.”

“That is a big part of what Hanukkah is all about,” I muse. “Light enduring through darkness,
even when the odds were against it...”

She winds her arms around my neck and her dark eyes meet mine. She smiles, and there's a
softness and affection in her gaze that brings a lump to my throat. She looks at me not just with
love, but...with admiration. The Hero of Northbridge is looking at me with admiration.

“Just like you,” she says. “Even after everything you've been through, you're still standing
strong.”

“After everything I've been through?” I chuckle mirthlessly. “What about you?”

“To be fair, I think we've gone through most of the last half-a-year together.”

“Except I didn't realize it for awhile.”

She winces a little. “...I thought I would be protecting you by not telling you who I was. But I'm
glad to have you in the club now. ...And since my arch nemesis happens to be your father...”

I wrap my arms around her, drawing her against me. I'm not angry at her for bringing it up, but
I'd really rather not think about that right now. I'd prefer to think about how much I appreciate
her, not how angry I am with my father for hurting her, or how betrayed he has made me feel.

“Personally, I think the biggest advantage to the current arrangement is that you don't have to
worry about disappointing me if you're late for a date or something. I'll just assume you were
saving the city.”

She laughs. “How much do you want to bet that the first time I'm late for a date, it'll just be
because I took a nap and forgot to set an alarm?”
“Hmmm...twenty bucks.” I peck her mouth with mine. “But since you're here now, and I have a
gift for you...”

Her dark eyes meet mine. “Let's focus on the moment.”

Jake

Believe it or not, I used to love Christmas. Even though I was always fiesty and had a hard time
making friends because of it, I wasn't always the bitter loner the Catalysts first knew me as.
And, yeah, I'll admit it, I was a sucker for the holiday season schmaltz, right up until the year I
watched my best friend blow up above me. After that, the days bled into each other until I had
passed three years and three Christmas seasons without giving a crap. Then, of course, I met
the love of my life, but we kinda literally skipped Christmas when we jumped forward six
months with one of our number missing. And then I lost the love of my life. And spent five years
without her. For those five years, I sometimes tried to celebrate for the sake of my family—
both my blood relatives and the Catalysts—and once or twice if I had a partner at the time, I
bought a card or a gift. But my heart was never really in it.

This year is different. This year I have everything in the world. My best friend. My family. My
wife. Our unborn daughter. This year, I actually want to celebrate. The moment Halloween was
over and I started to see fluffy red hats and fir trees draped in tinsel, I started to feel that old
excitement again. And since the first of December, it's been underneath every moment of
anxiety, flipping me from mind-numbing panic to eager anticipation.

On Saturday morning, I wake to find that Taylor is already up, standing in front of the full
length mirror on our closet. Her hair is wet from the shower, and she's wearing a bathrobe, but
from where I am, I can see that she's still naked underneath. She is holding the robe open,
studying herself, her expanding belly, her swelling breasts. I roll over onto my back, grinning at
her.

“Mmm-mmm. What a sight to wake up to.”

Taylor closes her robe, rolling her eyes, but I can see a smile playing around her mouth.

“You still think so? That's good to hear. Honestly, I feel more hideous every day.”

“You could never be hideous.” I push back the covers and get out of bed, moving to wrap my
arms around her from behind and nuzzle her neck. She smells fresh and clean, like laundry
right out of the dryer. Somewhat different from her usual floral-scented body washes and
shampoos, but she's been using those less often since she's been pregnant. The stronger scents
are harder to tolerate when her hormones have dialed her sense of smell up to eleven.
Taylor leans into my embrace, sighing as she strokes her belly. “Four more months. It's
probably time to start preparing the nursery. Do you have any thoughts on that?”

I let my chin rest on her shoulder, swaying gently with her. “Hmmm, I don't know. Honestly, I
kinda figured I'd let your nesting instinct guide us there.”

She snorts, reaching up to ruffle my hair. “Well, as long as you realize you're giving me full
creative control. I don't want to do a traditional pink ballerina sort of room.”

“Really? I thought you loved your baby ballerinas.”

“I do. But there's no certainty that River is going to like ballerinas. For all we know, I'm growing
a little karate champion. I'd rather do something more...gender-neutral.”

“No guarantee she'll like gender-neutral teddy bears or clowns or what have you, either. And as
a baby, she'll probably like anything as long as she learns to associate it with calm and quiet
and feeling safe. Still, I get your point.”

“I think I still want a theme. I sort of like the idea of a rainforest theme.”

I hesitate a moment before venturing, “Do you mean like your suite at The Celestial?”

She leans back in my arms, covering my hands with hers. “The rainforest is such a big part of
our story together,” she murmurs, almost sounding apologetic. “It's where we met...where we
fell in love...where we once thought we would build our little house and live together
forever...where we separated and where we were reunited...”

I press my lips to her cheek. “It is a big part of our story,” I concede.

She exhales, a steadying sigh. “Besides that, I think all the greens and blues and browns and
leafy patterns and such will be soothing.”

“It sounds very pretty. But you know, there is something more immediate that we should be
thinking about.”

“Oh? What's that?”

I turn her gently in my arms so that we're face-to-face. “Christmas. Our first Christmas together.
It feels like a pretty big milestone to me.”

“I suppose it is.”

I feel my brow knitting at what strikes me as a rather lukewarm response. “Are you...not
enthusiastic about Christmas?”
“What? No, no, no, I like Christmas as much as anyone else. I have some pretty wonderful
memories of Christmas. It's just...times like this make it a little difficult to forget that those
memories are only of one timeline. And in another sense...this is my very first Christmas ever.”
Her expression clouds for a moment. She lowers her gaze, but not before I see the sorrow in her
eyes. “...And when that feeling fades...I remember that not all my Christmas memories in this
timeline are happy ones. ...It was over Christmas break freshman year that Diego came out to
his family...”

“...Ahh.” I wince.

“...But...at the same time, he and I made some wonderful Christmas memories on our own after
that. On Christmas Eve, we used to pull out the sofa bed and spend the whole night watching
Christmas specials, drinking eggnog, eating treats... We'd go out onto the deck at midnight to
light sparklers and exchange gifts like we used to do with his family, and then we'd come back
inside and go back to watching Christmas specials until we fell asleep. We'd sleep in until noon
on Christmas day, and even though Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob were usually already getting
ready for another fancy Christmas party, they would have left a huge platter of French toast
and bacon warming in the oven for us, plus an obscenely large pile of characteristically
extravagent Christmas presents for each of us...”

“Diego, too?”

“Yeah.” She is quiet for a moment. “...He was always part of the family to them. ...Once it became
clear how important he was to me. ...And when his own family turned their backs on him...”

“Decent of them,” I grudgingly admit.

“...They weren't great parents. But they tried. They did their best.” Her eyes are starting to
sparkle. As her mouth twists, she presses her face into my shoulder. “...Stupid hormones.”

I can't help chuckling. “My poor pregnant princess. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything to
do with Christmas. But I do want to celebrate. I've got everything to celebrate this year, and I
think we all deserve to have a real nice holiday.”

“That sounds exactly like what we all deserve.”

Dax

“I don't know, Dax. Is it really the only way?”

In what used to be Silas Prescott's office, Grayson sits on the edge of a leather easy chair,
absently scratching with his thumbnail at a speck of something on the glass end table beside
him. In the chair across from him, I lean forward slightly.
“It's the only way we know of.” When Grayson's uncertain expression doesn't alter, I sigh. “If
Kenji gets injured as Talos, the only way we know of to heal him is by applying the liquid prism
to bronze and grafting new tissue out of the result. We've seen it in action. His bronze body
won't revert to human form with a life-threatening injury. It's...some sort of defense
mechanism innate to his abilities. But if we just try to graft regular bronze to his body, it could
kill him. So...yeah. As long as he intends to keep fighting, until we can find another way to heal
him...we need to keep manufacturing liquid prism.”

Grayson sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look...I'm in no way against making sure we
have what we need to keep Kenji alive in the...unfortunately likely event of grievous injury...”

“And I totally get your reservations,” I assure him. “In the wrong hands, that stuff is dangerous.”

“Potentially beyond what we've already seen. Taylor did say that liquified time crystal is
supposed to be highly toxic to humans. ...But if Kenji is likely to need it to survive a battle, then
we have to keep up production. It's just...” He trails off, sighing and shaking his head. “We need
to keep it quiet. Only have as many working on it as we need.”

“I think Hazel mostly developed the formula herself. And I don't think she will question you
continuing to wanting to keep a small batch on hand.”

Grayson's eyes meet mine. “...Eventually, she's going to start asking questions that are going to
be difficult to answer. ...I might think about asking Tahira to let us bring her into the club.”

“Is it necessary to go that far?”

“I don't know. ...But I'd like to keep Tahira in the loop. Not make the decision without her.” He
gives me a rueful smile. “I'd be a real jerk boyfriend if I didn't.”

“Yeah, I'll concede that point.” I lean back in my chair. “The good news is that I think we have
enough on hand right now to get us through a few more battles. But I think we'd all feel safer
with a few more doses.”

“I'll get Hazel on it, then. First thing in the morning. For now, it's late, so you go home and
relax.” He smiles again, and it's genuine this time. “Boss's orders, Dax. Your holiday bonus
should cover any gifts you need to buy, so don't feed me any lines about needing the overtime.”

I can't help chuckling as I stand up and grab my coat. “Okay, boss. You have a good night.”

Taylor
Even in this timeline, I don't think I can remember Christmas ever being so exhausting. I'm sure
being pregnant is the biggest reason for it, of course. But combined with that, it's my first
Christmas home after having been gone for five years, and everyone who loves me is
determined to mark the occasion. I don't really mind. I'm sure if I didn't have a little person
growing inside me and sending my hormones into overdrive, I would be completely on board
with the idea. But some aspects of the plan to make this Christmas unforgettable are inherently
inconvenient. Like when Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob decide to surprise us by having a massive
tree delivered and hiring professional landscapers and interior decorators to deck our halls
both inside and out, and we haven't had time to get Varyyn hidden away somewhere he won't
invite questions. Thankfully, Jake comes to our rescue and manages to work out a deal that
results in us keeping the tree and decorations and the landscapers being allowed to decorate
the grounds, but which keeps strangers out of the interior while not depriving the workers of a
wage. Aunt Molly and Uncle Rob concede that the cost doesn't really matter to them as long as
we're happy. They even acknowledge that they probably should have asked before sending
strangers to our home.

That very day, a couple packages arrive from Jake's parents, containing another batch of
decorations for us. The end result is that our little nuclear family of five has its own private
decorating party that actually puts me in a proper holiday mood. Diego puts on a playlist of
Christmas songs that run the gamut from medieval carols to John Denver and the Muppets,
Mike prepares cider from a traditional family recipe, and I tease Jake by pretending that I
intend to climb up the ladder to hang garlands.

“That's not really funny, Taylor,” he grumbles when I laugh and step off the ladder. “I just had
images flashing through my mind of you falling and what could happen...”

I kiss him placatingly. “Falling is a hazard of ladders, you know. Even for non-pregnant people.”

“Yeah, but a fall from that height isn't likely to be fatal to a full-grown adult. So if any of us fall
off that ladder, we're likely to break something at worse. You fall off that thing, you might...” He
trails off, his expression twisting, and I realize just how much I scared him. I kiss him again,
apologetically this time.

“You're right. I'm sorry. I promise I never actually intended to climb the ladder. I'll stick to
hanging ornaments.”

“Geez, are Molly and Rob keeping anything for their own tree this year?” Diego wonders,
pulling out the third box. “I feel like most of these are pretty familiar.”

“Yeah, a lot of them are. They've definitely given me all my favorites. Plus all the homemade
ones from school projects. ...I expected them to part with those without much fuss, but I am
surprised that they're letting me have the dancing ballerina and the Swarvoski snowflake. Jake,
what did your parents send us?”

“Let's find out.” He kneels beside the box and fishes his keys out of his pocket to tear through
the packing tape holding the cardboard shipping box closed. We crowd around him as he pulls
the box open and digs through the bubble wrap, coming up with a Nativity barn, a box of
painted figurines, and a burgundy ornament box. His eyes widen a little. “Oh, wow!”

“What?”

“This,” he says, trailing his fingertips over the ornament box. “My grandparents were getting
these sets of gold ornaments as part of a...I guess it was a mailing club or something. You know,
like a book or a music club where they send you books and CDs every month. Except it was
once a year and it was ornaments. When they died, they left my folks a couple boxes.”

“Generous of them to give us one.”

“Yeah. And this Nativity set...well, my parents got this in the late 80's when Rebecca was a baby.
Pop and Grandpa built the stable. Every year when we put up the tree, Pop'd take us to this
religious bookstore in town and we'd get a new figurine. A new shepherd or a milk maid or an
animal.” He chuckles. “By the time I came along, we actually had two Baby Jesuses because
when Rebecca was a toddler, she used to play with the figures like toys. One year, the Baby
Jesus went missing, and it wasn't until they took down the Christmas tree that they found Him.
Apparently, Rebecca had decided to make Baby Jesus climb the tree and just...left Him there.”

I laugh. “So they'd already bought a replacement?”

“Yup.”

Varyyn lifts the wooden stable carefully, almost reverently. “Where do you think we should
place it?”

I look around the living room, considering. “How about that end table over there? It looks big
enough. We can put down the linen tablecloth so it doesn't get scratched.”

“Diego, will you help me, my darling? You know better where all the figures should be placed.”

I smile a little as I watch the two of them lay the tablecloth and begin placing the painted
figurines.

“We should keep the wise men outside the stable for now,” Diego declares. “They're not
actually supposed to arrive until the Feast of the Epiphany, which isn't until early January.”

I laugh. “Catholic upbringing still dies hard,” I quip, to which Diego grins and shrugs sheepishly.

“I can empathize,” Jake says, reaching over to pat him on the shoulder.

“I can't really,” Mike admits. “My family are C&E Methodists. How about yours, Taylor?”
“Secular as they come,” I reply. “The kind who only go to church for weddings. But remember I
was practically raised by Diego's family, so I had enough second-hand Catholic education that I
probably know as much as he does. I could probably still say the entire Mass in Spanish. And
most of the prayers.”

“Please don't,” Diego entreats ruefully.

“I can say it in French if you prefer,” Jake offers.

“How about no one says Mass?” Diego groans in mock-exasperation. “That would take forever!”

I laugh and turn my attention back to the tree, pulling a glitteirng gold sleigh out of the
burgundy ornament box.

“What do you think of all this, Varyyn?” I ask. “I mean, I'm guessing this isn't your first
Christmas, but have you gotten used to everyone going crazy this time of year yet?”

Varyyn smiles, shrugging. “You only experienced one Niala'rei,” he points out. “And quite an
unusual one at that. But the preparation and excitement that go into Christmas is not very
much different. The stories are different, of course. Those took me a while to get straight in my
head. But it is not very difficult for me to understand building such celebration around an event
with spiritual and cultural significance to your people. Besides. I like an excuse to shower my
beloved with gifts. Whatever it might be.”

I laugh as Diego blushes, but I can see the smile on his lips. “Well, if that isn't reason enough to
get behind the holiday, I don't know what is.”

Tahira

The Sunday after Hanukkah ends, I find myself at St. Catherine's again, checking on Dylan and
his family after the last Mass of the day. To my distress, I find them subdued, their spirits
obviously dampened.

“...We've never had Christmas without our parents before,” Dylan reminds me gently when I
ask what's wrong. I feel a stab of guilt, much stronger than I was expecting to. I have been
working on convincing myself that I did everything I could that day. That the blame lays with
Silas Prescott, who started the fight, and not with me. Most of the time I believe it. Then I
remember that people died that day and all of that unravels. But this conversation isn't about
me.

“That's going to be so hard on all of you,” I say softly. “...I imagine you'll be spending the day
with Father Le?”
“Of course. Though he'll be leading Mass most of the morning.”

“...What about presents?”

“Well...we've got a few. I've managed to save enough to get everyone something, and Father Le
pitched in. But...it's going to be a pretty lean year.”

I am quiet for a moment. “...I would like to help. If you'll let me.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know I don't. But I want to.”

“Why, though?” He looks wearily at me. “If it's just because you feel guilty, don't. Our parents'
deaths weren't your fault. You were fighting to protect them. I know I'm only fifteen, but I'm old
enough to know that even a superhero can't save everyone.”

“It's not just guilt,” I insist.

“Then why us? Why not some other kids? There are plenty in the city who will have less than
we have this Christmas.”

“I know. And I have given to charities and volunteered at homeless shelters every year since I
was younger than Alex. But you're the family that's happened to fall into my lap this year. And I
won't just ignore you. If you tell me you don't want my help, I'll leave you alone. But I won't
ignore you.”

He is quiet for a moment. Finally, he sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “What did you have
in mind?”

Estela

“I'm going to miss you.”

Quinn tips her head at me like a confused puppy. “It won't be that long before you see me again.
I mean, you are still meeting me at my parents' before New Years' right? You still want to drive
to California together?”

“Of course I do. It's just...I've gotten used to having you here...”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I've gotten used to being here. I wish we could spend Christmas together,
but it's Mom and Dad's first Christmas since they've officially been living together again...”
“And it's my Mom's first Christmas in eleven years,” I add softly.

She pulls me into a tight embrace. I hold her, burying my face in the curve of her neck. I try to
tell myself that it won't be long before I see her again. And it won't be. But that doesn't make
the parting any easier. Especially since I still haven't found the courage to tell her what I have
been thinking and feeling for some time now.

“I promise,” she murmurs. “We'll be together again in no time.”

I hesitate for a moment. There is so much I want to say right now. But all I can manage is,
“Merry Christmas, Quinn.”

Caleb

Christmas Eve. It came on faster than I expected. I guess I've been kinda caught up with Rourke
and his crazy—and trying to sort out how much is crazy and how much is true. It's been dark
for hours as I lie on the roof of my van in an empty parking lot, filling my lungs with toxins in
the name of relaxation. The clouds of smoke I exhale mingle with the clouds formed by my
breath hitting the frigid air as I stare up into the falling snow.

The Island's Heart is gone. Taylor Chandler had something to do with its disappearance. There
were other crystals like the Prism Crystal, but those are gone, too. The Prism Crystal is the last
of its kind. I don't know why, but I feel confident that those are facts. The rest of it...let's just say
that I don't think Rourke's all there. But I don't think he's all gone, either. I'm not sure what to
make of his claim that the entire world was destroyed in a volcanic eruption that no one can
remember because of time travel. But I wasn't living in a cave six or so years ago, either. I
remember the story being all over the news about the eleven students who vanished on a trip
to the Caribbean. For six months, no one could get near the island. Given that the Prism Crystal
came from that island, I can't stay skeptical about the idea that something weird was going on
there. More and more as I think about it, I find myself believing that Taylor Chandler might be
something more than an ordinary human.

A sharp whistle startles me out of my thoughts. The surge of adrenaline through my veins
makes me drop my cigarette. Luckily my outerwear is thick enough and my reflexes fast
enough that I avoid getting burned as I sit up sharply. I glare at a scrawny figure who stands in
the beam of a street lamp, partially shrouded by the snowfall.

“Goddammit, Roach! You know everyone hates when you do that!”

Roach shrugs, wiping at a runny nose with his sleeve. “Gotta get your attention somehow.”
I feel my scowl deepen. This kid barely has hair on his balls, but he's already one of Gigi's
favorites. He's also her loyal little lapdog. “What do you want? Somehow I doubt Gigi's inclined
to give me a Christmas bonus.”

“No. But she does want to know what you've learned.”

“I haven't exactly been at this long enough to have learned much.”

Roach folds his arms, narrowing his eyes. “You've had time to learn something. You been out
here awhile, Caleb. You gonna prove you're earning your pay? Or does Gigi have to assume
you're taking advantage of her generosity?”

I snort. “Right. Generosity. Is that what she calls it?” But I know better than to refuse him.
“Look. I managed to get in to talk to Everett Rourke himself. Problem is trying to figure out
what in that addled head of his is real and what's noise.”

“What's he say about the Island's Heart?”

“That it was alive. But it ain't alive anymore. It was possessed by some crystal alien thing. The
Prism Crystal is just one of thousands of crystals that used to exist on the island, but don't exist
anymore since the alien...evaporated or something.”

Roach raises an eyebrow skeptically. “...Evaporated?”

“I don't know the technical term. I don't even know what the alien thing actually did to make
itself gone. I just know that it's gone, and so is the Island's Heart, and all the crystals 'cept the
Prism Crystal.”

Roach appears to be thinking this over. “What about Taylor Chandler?”

“Rourke figures she's actually a crystal alien herself. Put her in stasis 'cause he wanted to
experiment on her. ...Told the courts she disappeared 'cause he figured he'd get out of the psych
asylum someday and go dissect her. ...Take that back to Gigi. Tell her I got more sessions with
Rourke, and I'm gonna see what else I can get out of him.”

Roach narrows his eyes at me. He's suspicious, I can tell. But he clearly figures it's gonna be
worth something to Gigi, because he leaves without another word. I sigh and pull out another
cigarette to light up. I'm only a few minutes into my smoke when I'm interrupted again.

“Who was that?” a voice demands from behind me. I turn on the cold roof of the van to see
Talos emerging from the shadows, the streetlights reflecting off his bronze body. I sigh.

“Your boss know you're out here on Christmas Eve?”

“It's not Dragonness's concern what I do with myself on Christmas Eve,” he retorts sharply.
“And if you think I would hesitate to tell her if I thought I just watched you betray us—”
“I assume you heard what I told the kid, right?” I'm not in any mood to listen to Talos' threats
right now. “I know you're not actually stupid, Talos. You been listening to the recordings same
as Dragonness. You know I didn't give Roach shit.”

“Roach? Is that his given name?”

“Who the hell knows?” I grumble, taking a drag on my cigarette. “...Look, I had to give Gigi
something.”

Talos frowns. “You're...actually afraid of her, aren't you.”

I let our a short, bitter bark of laughter. “Hell, yeah! You would be, too!”

“You can conjure fire out of nowhere. Is she even a superhuman?”

“No.”

“Then...what's stopping you from just burning her alive and having it over with? Not that I'd
condone that sort of thing. But why do you stick around?”

“...'Cause I'm not the only one she's got her hooks in. She gets 'em while they're young and
vulnerable. Kids like Roach. Weak. Pliable. ...I seen what she does to the ones who try to leave.” I
close my eyes a moment. There are memories threatening to crawl out of the dark place I've
stuffed them. “...Enough of them are under her spell enough that they'll do it for her. ...And if she
were gone, they wouldn't know how to take care of themselves.”

“So...it's altruism? You're just protecting the little children?”

“Those little children aren't so different from me, Talos.” When he doesn't answer that
immediately, I change the subject. “...You guys didn't happen to listen to the latest recording
yet, did you?”

“...I haven't yet, why?”

“...I just been thinking about some stuff he said. You...don't think it's possible he's been in touch
with Silas Prescott, do you?”

“...Why would you ask that?”

“I don't know. He didn't say anything that strongly hinted that he had. But he didn't manage to
put it in my head. ...And if he gets in contact with Prescott, it's just a short walk to learning
Tahira's identity.” I look up, meeting Talos' bronze gaze. “...I don't want that to happen.
Rourke's not safe just because he's in prison.”

“...You're right.” He is quiet a moment. “I suppose I ought to thank you for the warning.”
I can't help smirking. “Yeah, Merry Christmas to you too. ...You shiny jackass.”

Taylor

The whole Christmas season has turned out to be pretty hectic. But for the most part, I can get
into it. Still, I realize well in advance that I am going to need a few days to recover from
Christmas before I can start anticipating our Catalyst New Year's party. By Christmas Eve, Mike
has gone back Portland to spend the holiday with his parents. The four of us left drive up to L.A,
where Rebecca hosts us for a Christmas Eve brunch before she has to go to work. Then we
immediately head back to Laguna Beach to drop Varyyn off before we join Diego's family in
Riverside for the traditional Christmas Eve posada and dinner, where I immediately find myself
surrounded by a horde of Soto women all eager to give support and advice to the pregnant
woman. Fortunately for me, two of Diego's cousins are also expecting, which takes a little of the
attention off me. I end up having a pretty good time with the other two mothers, Gabriela and
Lourdes, both of whom I remember meeting when Diego and I were children. Gabriela is eight
months gone with her first child, a son. Lourdes is barely three months along, but she already
has a son and a daughter, so she has plenty of wisdom to share. I don't make it all the way to
midnight, but my belly does give me the perfect excuse to duck out early—and bring Jake and
Diego with me, since we all came together.
The plan on Christmas Day is to attend my aunt and uncle's annual holiday party, which will be
held at the house in Riverside for the first time in years since we have officially taken over the
beach house. I expect it won't be nearly as exciting as the posada, but I still want to attend if I
have the energy. Luckily, the party is in the evening, which means Diego, Varyyn, Jake, and I all
get to spend Christmas morning together as a family.
Naturally, we begin by exchanging gifts. Jake and I each seem to be trying to turn the other into
our personal Christmas dress-up doll, showering each other with new clothes. He also gives me
a beautiful tear-shaped crystal pendant necklace on a delicate gold chain and matching
earrings. Meanwhile, an envelope with a business card inside reveals that I've booked a session
with a photographer to get pictures taken of us before the baby is born. Diego and I of course
stick to our tradition of silly gifts for each other— Crown and the Flame action-figure set for me,
and a collection of obscure Star Wars novels for him. He and Jake get each other wall calendars,
while Varyyn give both me and Jake decorative tins of gourmet loose-leaf tea. Varyyn presents
his husband with a hand-sewn leatherbound journal, and Diego leads us outside to show
Varyyn the windsurfing board Jake helped him sneak into the pool the night before—complete
with a wetsuit.

“The better to disguise yourself with,” he explains. “The beach is pretty secluded out here, so I
think it should be pretty safe to surf without attracting too much attention.”

Varyyn pulls Diego in for a deep kiss, tenderly running his fingers through his hair. “Thank you,
my darling. I shall enjoy this a great deal.”

“We've got one more box to unwrap,” Jake announces.

“Oh, we do?”

“Yeah. The other day, a package came in the mail from Tahira, with strict instructions not to
open it before Christmas.”

Jake leads us inside, and fetches the package from the hall closet where he had apparently
hidden it. It's not a small parcel, but it's not huge either, and it's not at all heavy. We tear it open
and find two smaller boxes, one addressed to me and Jake, and the other to Diego and Varyyn.
Jake and I find a soft yellow baby blanket printed with sleepy puppies and kittens, hand-knitted
booties and a baby hat, and a couple of onesies. We coo and fawn over the items, draping the
onesies over my belly, until we notice that Varyyn and Diego have gone silent as they read over
a piece of paper in Diego's hand.

“...What is it?”

“...A disguise,” Varyyn replies, his voice thick with emotion. “S-so that I don't have to hide. If
Diego were to need me beside him out there in the world...I can staywith him...”

“...What? What do you mean?”

Diego lifts a ring out of a small velvet box. “...This ring. Dax Darcisse developed it. There's a
button here that will create a virtual disguise for Varyyn. Kind of a Jem and the Holograms deal.
It will make him look human if he ever needs to blend in.”

I feel my heart beating faster. Is Dax really capable of developing a device like that? Will it
really work?

“Try it on, Varyyn. Let's see what it does.”

Diego takes Varyyn's left hand, slipping the ring onto his finger like they're standing at the
altar, which just makes me grin. Then, Varyyn grips Diego's hand in his right while he brings
the thumb of his left hand up to press the button. There is a soft beep and pale lights seem to
race over his body. And then...Varyyn is gone. In his place is a handsome man of his exact shape
and height, wearing his clothes, except with dark brown skin, dark eyes, and black hair styled
in dreadlocks. Diego and Jake stare at him in amazement, their eyes the size of dinner plates.
I'm sure I don't look any different. Varyyn looks around at us, and then down at his newly-dark
hands.

“...By the Bride and her Lover...” He leaps to his feet, rushing to look in the mirror in the
hallway, the rest of us following. “...It...it worked! It really and truly worked! I look...human.”

Diego comes up to wrap his arms around Varyyn from behind. The holographic disguise barely
flickers.

“...I think you look beautiful, babe. Not that you don't look beautiful in blue, too.”
Varyyn cautiously smiles. “I look...very different. I think I prefer my true form. But...if this form
is ever needed...”

“I can think of a way to test it out that you might appreciate,” I remark. “What would you think
of me calling Aunt Molly and asking if she'd welcome one more guest tonight?”

Grayson

Christmas Day, I volunteer myself to help Tahira in her plans to make the day special for Dylan
and his family. Everything begins around noon. My role is to pick them up from the clergy
house in a limousine and take them to see the latest pirate movie while Tahira and her team set
up the clock tower. I've also helped with paying for the gifts. I think Tahira was a little
embarassed having to rely on me to buy most of the presents, but as I remind her, I can afford
it. Besides, my father was responsible for the deaths of their parents. Much more than she was.
The kids are thrilled to be traveling in a limousine. I spoil them with snacks and sodas at the
movie, and they seem to enjoy it. I have fun with it, too. It's got a good story, engaging
characters, action, and romance. Actually, the romance makes me think it might make a good
date movie. The kids leave in high spirits, hopped up on sugar, popcorn, and thrilling action. My
limousine is going to be a complete mess, but it's more than worth it.
“Thank you, Mister Prescott,” Ysabel says, “for taking us to the movie.” The others echo her
sentiments. I smile at them.
“You're very welcome. But the day isn't over yet.”
“It's not?” RJ squeals. “Where are we going next?!”
“The clock tower. A good friend of ours has a Christmas party planned just for you.”

Quinn

Christmas has been absolutely perfect. I've had not one complaint. My parents are living in
Chicago now, in a comfortable suburban neighborhood. Their house is small, but it has room
enough for them, and for me. They flirt and laugh over gifts, they flirt and laugh over dinner,
and they shower me with affection. After dinner, we cuddle together on the couch, me between
my parents, nursing eggnog, a fire crackling away while It's a Wonderful Life plays on the
television. It's always been my favorite Christmas movie, but this year it seems to hit me
particularly hard. I'm tearing up at almost every scene. By the time George and Mary are
walking down the aisle, I can't stop sniffling. I feel Dad's hand stroking my hair.
“You okay there, Flipper?”
“I'm fine, Daddy,” I promise, wiping my eyes. “I just...love this movie. And I'm just so happy to
have us all together on Christmas.”
“We're happy to be together, too,” Dad replies, kissing the top of my head. Mom takes my hand,
bringing it up to her mouth to kiss my fingers.
“...I love you, Quinn.”
I curl up close to her, laying my head on her shoulder. “I love you, too, Mommy.”
“...There was a time when Christmas made me cry. Because I felt certain that every Christmas
would be the last I had with my only child.”
“Pam...” Dad says softly. I put a hand over his.
“It's okay, Daddy. ...I'm better now, but you know I understand how sick I was.”
Mom hesitates a moment. “...I love you, too, Jim.”
“I know, Pam. I love you, too.”
“The thing is, Quinn...sometimes I worry that you might...think that I ever stopped loving.
Especially if I were to explain...certain things about why my marriage to your father broke
down in the first place...”
I sit up, hunting for the remote, and pause the movie. My dad looks worried, but I take his hand.
I look at my mother. “I never believed you didn't love me,” I assure her. “...But I can tell you
want to say something.”
“I do.” She draws me into her arms, and I rest my head on her chest. “...Darling...when you were
born, you were perfect. You were everything your father and I dreamed of. ...And then you got
sick. The doctors told us what you had was incurable. That you wouldn't live to grow up. That
you probably wouldn't live more than ten more years. For the first few years, your father and I
were on the same page. Scrambling around, doing everything to save you. To give you more
time. We poured everything into protecting you. But nothing seemed to work. Your illness
would go into remission, but then it would flare up again worse than before. ...I went through
every stage of grief. I denied. I was angry. I bargained. ...When I reached depression, I honestly
thought about killing myself because I couldn't bear the thought of burying my child. ...Your dad
knows all this. ...He also knows that I eventually reached acceptance.
“...I want you to understand that acceptance doesn't mean I was ready to see you die. It doesn't
mean that I wasn't going to grieve you all over again when what I believed was inevitable
happened. ...It just means that I came to understand that I couldn't die with you. That when you
died, I would still be alive. And I had to keep living. For my sake...I had to accept that there
would be life beyond my Quinn. You understand that, don't you, sweetheart?”
I wind my arms around my mother. “I do understand, Mom. More than you might think. ...When
my friend Taylor...when we thought she was lost to us...” I pause to wipe fresh tears from my
eyes. “...My friend Jake was in love with her. Still is. When we thought she was gone for good,
we did everything possible to help him move on, or at least keep living. ...He ended up getting
her back, though.”
“Just as your dad and I ended up getting you back. For which I will always be grateful. ...I never
stopped loving you, Quinn. And it wasn't your fault that we divorced. It wasn't even your
illness' fault. Everyone grieves differently, and at different paces. And losing a child—or
anticipating the loss of a child—that has been shown time and time again to put relationships
through the ringer, for the simple reason that everyone grieves differently. Your father and I
processed the situation differently, at different paces. ...He was still fighting to save you when I
was thinking more about cherishing every moment I had left with you.”
“You can still cherish every moment with me, Mom.”
“I know. And I'm so thankful to have you and your dad to share my life with...” If she intends to
continue her train of thought, she's interrupted by the doorbell. All three of us jump,
exchanging confused glances. “...What on earth...?”
I sit up, pushing back the blanket that was draped over my lap. “Someone's at the door,” I
remark needlessly. I get up and go to answer it, my parents following behind me. I turn on the
porch light and unlock the front door. When I pull it open and see who's on the other side of the
screen, my brain goes numb for a moment.
Huddled and shivering, covered in a coating of fresh falling snow and painfully underdressed
for a midwestern winter night, is Estela. She shifts awkwardly.
“...Hello...I'm...early,” she manages to say through chattering teeth. Her voice breaks me out of
my stupor. I push open the screen door.
“Oh, my God, come inside!” She shivers her way inside, and I close the door as she stands on the
mat, stamping off the snow. “Mom, Dad, this is my friend Estela.”
“Welcome,” Mom says somewhat dazedly. “We...weren't expecting you for a few days.”
“Yes. I know. ...But I couldn't wait.”
“Couldn't wait?” I echo. “Wha...how did you get here?”
She blinks. “Well, I am a C.E.O of Rourke International. I can summon planes and rent cars
anytime I want.”
“But...what about your family?”
“We had our celebration already. And I have been in San Trobida for more than a month at
least. ...I missed you, Quinn. And...when you said goodbye a few days ago, I...I missed the
opportunity to tell you—mmph!”
She's cut off as I throw myself into her arms, kissing her firmly and fully on the mouth. She
almost immediately relaxes into the kiss winding her arms around my waist and pulling my
hips toward hers. We're both breathless by the time we break apart.
“I...suppose I don't really need to say it now...” she murmurs.
My mom clears her throat. “...I suppose we don't need to make up the guest bedroom then?” she
asks. I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks as I turn to see my parents grinning at us.
“No, I...think we can both sleep in my bed.” I look at Estela for confirmation, and she nods. I
laugh, bringing her close for another kiss. “...Merry Christmas, Estela. ...Let's get you warmed
up."

Notes:
Quistela is official! That's my Christmas present to you all. XD

Chapter 37: Night of the Twelve

Summary:
It's New Year's Eve, and all twelve Catalysts are together to celebrate, just as they were on the
island.

Notes:
WOW, this chapter took much longer than I wanted it to. But it's also forty pages long, so that
might explain it.

WARNING: This chapter contains brief, non-graphic mention of sexual assault. Proceed with
discretion.
Chapter Text

Craig
On Christmas night, I fall asleep spooning Zahra. I wake up later and find her gone. The digital
clock on our bedside table says it's a little after three in the morning. This isn't unusual, since
Zahra's an insomniac. It happens a lot less these days, but it still doesn't make me panic or
anything. I think I've been in the same position since I fell asleep, because my limbs are feeling
crampy. I roll over, stretching, and find Zahra sitting up at the computer with a cup of coffee
beside her. She's frowning at the screen, her fingers rubbing her lips absentmindedly. She looks
up when she hears me moving.

“Good. You're awake. Come look at this.”

“I'm not awake,” I mumble, yawning. “Come back to bed.”

“I found something, loser. Something important.”

“So important it can't wait until morning?”

“Yes. Get over here.”

I groan, dragging myself out of bed. I shuffle over to the computer, pulling up the second chair
and plop down next to her. There's an article pulled up on the screen, with a picture of an
attractive blonde woman.

“What am I looking at?”

“Cassandra Chandler's obituary. Look at this.” She points to a line on the screen. I squint at it.

“Can you zoom in?” She rolls her eyes, but she enlarges the text. “...'Matthew Chandler and his
wife Cassandra (nee Sullivan) of Manhattan were victims of Wednesday's deadly plane crash.'
...So...Taylor's parents were from Manhattan? Is the what you're showing me?”

“No, Craig!” she sighs, exasperated. “Sullivan! Cassandra's maiden name was Sullivan!”

It takes a moment for that to sink in. “...Wait...like Flora Sullivan?”

“Now you're catching on.”

“But...it's not like Sullivan is a rare name, right?”

“Almost three-hundred thousand Sullivans in the United States.”

“So...you think Cassandra Sullivan-Chandler is somehow related to Flora Sullivan?”

“I think there aren't many coicidences where Vaanu is concerned.”

I yawn, rubbing my hands over my face. “...Come back to bed, Z. You can worry about this more
in the morning.”

“I'm worried now,” she grumbles. I wind an arm around her waist and lower my head to nuzzle
her neck. She sighs, whining a little, and tips her head so that her cheek is resting on my head.
“...Fiiiine. I'll come to bed...”

Everett Rourke

Throughout this month, I have been giving interviews to the Man on Fire. Of course, he uses a
psuedonym with me, and why should he imagine I have any idea who he actually is, when I
have been in prison for five years? I have allowed him to suspect I have been in contact with
Silas Prescott, and perhaps that has led him to have suspicions that I know more about him
than I am letting on.

I feel a bit of melancholy as I gaze across the table at him today. Hope has been growing within
me since I first saw Silas activate his Prism Gate, but my years in this prison have changed me. I
am harder, and yet I am less confident. That was inevitable, I suppose. Prison makes a person
hard, because one must be hard to survive it. And no matter what happened to result in a
person being locked away, the moment when the door slams shut is the moment when failure
is realized. Perhaps it is the inmate's failure, perhaps it is a failure of justice. But someone has
failed, and failure shatters confidence. I wonder if I haven't lost my edge in this nightmare I
have lived for the last five years. I wonder if my perception is slipping, if there is any chance I
have tipped my hand a little too far to this wild card. Not that there is much time to worry
about it. Taylor's child is due in four months.

“Mr. Rourke,” Caleb begins after a long stretch of thoughtful silence, “what do you think about
the Prism Crystal giving people superpowers?”

“What do I think about it? I think it must be quite a boon to those fortunate individuals.”

“What I mean is...scientifically. Why those people? How does it work?”

“Ahh. That, I could not tell you. Nothing like that ever came of my own work with the crystals.
My old friend Silas Prescott would know more about that than I would. He surely did a great
deal of research following the event.”

“...And then he attempted to take over Northbridge.”

I chuckle. “Oh, is that what you think he tried to do?”

The young man raises an eyebrow. “Seemed like it, considering he basically said as much while
he was shooting up with liquid prism.”

“You don't know the man like I do. He is not a man who naturally craves power, nor is he an
idiot. Liquid Prism's effects are obviously temporary, and eventually, he would have been put
down, even if he had succeeded in taking out Dragonness.”

“So what do you think he was really after?”

I shrug. “Perhaps you should ask him.”

He frowns. “Yeah. Maybe I should.”

I lean back in my chair. “I suspect we are reaching the end of our time together, Mr. Harding.”

“...Yeah...yeah we are...” Caleb gathers up his supplies. As we both stand, he obligingly reaches
across the table to shake my hand.

“Happy New Year, Mr. Harding.”

“Yeah. Ditto, Mr. Rourke.”

He leaves me, and I am returned to my room. When I am left alone, I find myself standing in the
middle of my quarters, casting an almost wistful eye over this...cell that has been my home for
the last five years. I wonder if I will miss it. When my plans come to fruition, when I have
regained what I have lost, will I ever yearn for this place that has become so familiar? It is
doubtful. But one never knows for sure.

Silas Prescott

The winter solstice has passed, and the daylight hours increase incrementally each day. Still, I
eat my dinner alone in the dark each night, hardly bothering to put more than a candle or a
single light on at one time. I feel safer, wrapped in darkness. Lately, I have been feeling
vulnerable, almost paranoid. I startle whenever my phone rings, and I can always hear the
quiver in my voice when I answer. Most of the time, the voice on the other end is the same one
I'm listening to tonight. Everett's contact. The man who goes between us.
“Rourke has the information he needs regarding the Trojan Project. He got it from Blaire Hall.”
“Can she truly be trusted? I remember Blaire. She is ambitious, and generally pragmatic. ...But
there is an idealism in her. Unless she has grown harder and colder in recent years, I can't
imagine she will have any reason to get behind this plan. ...Especially because it's likely to bring
her daughter into harm's way.”
“She is already tugging at her leash,” he admits. “But if she gets off that leash, she'll have reason
to regret it. Rourke knows things about her. Secrets she would not like revealed.”
“I am going to trial after the new year. How shall I handle that.”
“For now, just go along with it. Do as you are advised by your lawyers. The outcome won't be of
any concern. Just be prepared.”
“I will be prepared. ...As long as I can get my Helena back, I am prepared for anything.”

Raj

“I'm scared.”

Lila's voice is soft, barely dominating the cheerful pop tunes and dance music bounce out of the
rental car's speakers, even though the volume is so low they're basically background noise.
We're boxed in on a California expressway, traffic currently moving at a snail's pace, so I feel
pretty safe taking my eyes off the road to glance over at her. She isn't looking at me, her face
turned slightly toward the window.

“...She knows you're coming. She won't hurt you. I wouldn't bring you if I had any doubt about
that.”

“I know. I trust you. But...after so long...after the way things ended...”

“They ended with you on our side. On her side.”

“...I don't know if Estela actually sees it that way.”

“Even if she doesn't, she moved beyond the need for revenge a long time ago. And now that she
has her mom back, I'd be willing to bet she'll be a lot more likely to let go of any lingering bad
blood between you. Especially because tonight is mostly about Michelle and Taylor, and she
won't want to sour anything.”

Lila turns slightly toward me and I catch a glimpse of a wry smile before I turn my eyes back on
the road.

“I thought this was a New Years' Eve party. Isn't it a little early for bridal and baby showers,
when the wedding and the baby are both months away?”

“Possibly, but this is the one time before the wedding that we could guarantee all the Catalysts
would be together. Besides, it's also their birthdays. It's a combination party, just like Elysian
Lodge.”

“...The morning after the party at Elysian Lodge didn't turn out so good,” she points out softly.
“But that's behind us now. Five years behind us. And this is Laguna Beach, not Elysian Lodge.
We're not being chased by Arachnid, we're not hunting Catalyst idols, and none of us have
missed our birthdays thanks to a time skip. ...We still can't have fireworks, but that's because
they're illegal. But we can have a bonfire on the beach.”

“...You always did plan the best parties,” Lila concedes, smiling a little wider. I grin back.

“I am good at parties. And I've been planning this New Year's Eve/double birthday party/baby
shower/wedding shower for months. Do you know how much effort goes into maintaining a
few surprises when you're planning a party at someone else's beach house?” Finally, she
laughs, which is what I was going for. I smile as the traffic starts to inch forward. “You got the
shopping list?”

“Of course I do. You know I take every mission you give me very seriously.”

“And that's why we make such a great team.” I hold out my hand for a five, and she almost shyly
slaps my palm with hers. “Ahh, finally, we're getting somewhere. Look out, Laguna Beach, it's
New Year's Eve!”

***

We reach the beach house around one in the afternoon, laden with groceries and presents. Jake
and Mike must have been watching for us because they meet us in the driveway, ready to help
us carry everything inside.

“Food can go in the kitchen,” Jake informs us, gathering up all the bags he can carry, “presents
in the front room under the Christmas tree. Think you brought enough food for everyone, Big
Guy?”

“I hope so! With luck, there'll be leftovers, and I can keep up with any sudden cravings your
wife has.”

“As long as you brought peanut butter.”

“Oh, not just any peanut butter. Five flavors of gourmet peanut butter. Plus, plenty of
ingredients for virgin cocktails.”

Jake whistles. “You really do think of everything. Well, come on inside. Everyone else is in the
kitchen.”

Lila
The moment I step inside the beach house, I am overwhelmed by the aura of warmth and good
cheer in the air. Laughter rings from the kitchen and the chatter of familiar, friendly voices.
Taylor, Diego, and the Vaanti prince. Taylor is visibly pregnant by now. She looks...amazing.
Beautiful. Glowing. She looks so happy as she rushes to hug Raj and show him where he can put
everything. I slink along behind him, wondering if any of them are going to comment on my
presence. Jake and Mike didn't say much to me beyond 'hello,' but Taylor turns her attention on
me pretty quickly, moving to embrace me. It doesn't feel...stiff exactly. Her embrace is warm,
but it's also...formal in its way. A little shy. But I guess that's okay, because I feel a little shy, too.

“It's good to see you again, Lila,” she says sincerely as she pulls back. “How have you been?”

“Well...better, since I got away from Mr. Rourke. You have a beautiful home, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks. But technically, it's my aunt and uncle's house. They're just letting us live here. And
turn one of the bedrooms into a nursery. So...pretty generous. ...Can I get you a drink or
anything? Have you had lunch yet?”

Taylor plays an anxious hostess for awhile until Jake, Diego, and Raj practically force her to sit
down at the kitchen table with a glass of orange juice and a sandwich. I settle into a role that
has become familiar and comforting to me, helping Raj with whatever he needs done in the
kitchen. As I dice and mix and whip, I feel myself relaxing. I start to participate in the
conversation. I laugh. I joke. I tease, and they tease back. The kitchen fills with delicious smells.
The stoves and ovens and the heat of our bodies makes the air swelter, and my cheeks feel fiery
hot, but it doesn't bother me. I feel like I could stay blissfully ever after in this kitchen,
delighting in the company of friends, sampling delicious foods.

Before I'm ready for it, the doorbell chimes. My blood sizzles with adrenaline. My heart spasms
wildly, thumping so hard against my ribs that I when I look down I can see my left breast
jumping. Taylor eagerly rushes to the door. I trail after her, afraid of who I'll see, but more
afraid of being caught off guard. When I see who she's greeting, the relief that floods through
my limbs leaves me feeling weak and shaky.

Sean, Michelle, Grace, and Aleister. Aleister has his son in his arms, and Murphy is curled over
Michelle's shoulders. Like Taylor and the others, they greet me with equal parts reservation
and warmth. I attempt to make friends with Reginald, but he's shy, and I suppose that's fair.
Murphy is the only one who seems to be ready to welcome me back without hesitation. As soon
as he shakes off his sleepiness, he leaps into my arms and licks at my face. We drift back into
the kitchen, and Jake takes drink requests. Raj makes sure Taylor gets the first cup of his non-
alcoholic cider while Michelle pesters her with questions about how she has been feeling and
what were the results of all her latest tests. Everything is fine, Taylor assures her. She has
ordinary pregnancy discomforts, but she and the baby are both healthy. I can't help but feel a
twinge whenever I look at her belly, remembering Mr. Rourke's words, his musing that the
baby might be useful to him somehow.

Another chime of the doorbell, and Craig and Zahra appear with a fresh supply of alcohol. I do a
quick mental headcount of the Selected. The Catalysts. My old tour group. Taylor. Jake. Diego.
Raj. Sean. Michelle. Grace. Aleister. Craig. Zahra. Ten accounted for. Two still to arrive. And one
of them is Estela.

It isn't as if she doesn't know I'll be here. I know she was told, and she promised there wouldn't
be trouble. Taylor wouldn't have been willing to let me come along with Raj if Estela wasn't
willing to put aside any lingering hatred and play nice for the evening. But that doesn't mean
I'm not still scared. I haven't spoken directly to Estela since...well, since I died at MASADA. I
don't know how this is going to go. I knock back a couple of cocktails, feeling my nerves steady
as I work up a pleasant buzz. We migrate into the main rooms, helping Raj lay the food and
drinks out buffet-style in the massive dining room. In the main sitting room, Taylor turns on
the gas fireplace, even though the temperature outside hasn't been below sixty-five all day.
Zahra connects her phone to a speaker and starts up a playlist. Reginald seems to have adjusted
to his surroundings somewhat, and plays with his toys on the living room floor, though he still
protests when either of his parents move out of his sight.

Somehow, I miss it when the doorbell chimes again. Suddenly, I'm looking up and Jake is
handing a drink to Estela while Quinn carefully transfers pastries from a tupperware box to a
platter on the buffet. My eyes meet Estela's, and for a moment, everything surrounding us turns
fuzzy, and the sounds of conversation are drowned by the blood pounding against my
eardrums. Then Diego passes between us on his way somewhere, and the moment is broken.
Next thing I know, Estela has plopped down beside me on the couch with a beer in her hand. As
I try to avoid her eyes, I realize that everyone is watching us while clearly trying to pretend
they aren't. I glance back at Estela as she gulps what has to be half her beer in one go.

“...We should talk privately,” she murmurs.

“If you want to,” I mumble back. “...Should...we just get it over with?”

She rolls her eyes, smirking just a little. “I'm not going to kill you. Promise. But yes. We should
make sure the air is clear, or I think we run the risk of killing the mood.” She stands, nodding at
me, and I follow her lead.

She leads us down a hall into what appears to be some kind of game room, with tables for
chess, ping-pong, and pool. She closes the door behind her.

“It probably won't be too long before we're interrupted, knowing this crowd,” she remarks. She
wanders over to the cue stands and pretends to examine the cues, running her finger absently
over the smooth laminated wood.

“...If you hadn't already promised not to kill me, I might think you were planning to bludgeon
me with one of those,” I quip. I hear a slight tremor in my voice, and try to cover it with a giggle.
“...Or run me through. That would be particularly unpleasant.”

“For both of us,” she replies. “I would have to be in a very pure rage to summon the will and the
strength to stab you with something blunt like a pool cue.”
“It could be done though.”

She turns toward me just slightly, her scarred eye regarding me thoughtfully. “...Have you ever
done it?”

“Killed someone with a pool cue? No. I've never been angry enough. ...But...I think there was a
time when you were angry enough at me that you could have done it.”

“Maybe,” she concedes.

“...Why didn't you kill me? In the end?”

She turns away again, and stays quiet for a long moment. “...You were already dying,” she says
at last. “...But...more than that...I guess it just struck me that I couldn't really justify it. Killing
you would accomplish nothing. It wouldn't bring my mother back. It wouldn't...teach you a
lesson. You had turned on Rourke in the end, so I couldn't even pretend I was making the world
safer by taking out his hired killer. ...The only reason I could honestly give for why I still wanted
to kill you was...my own aggression. My own hurt and anger moving me to hurt someone else.
...I don't even remember exactly what Taylor said in that moment. But what I do remember is
feeling like someone had held a mirror up to my face and showed me something ugly. ...If I had
killed you in that moment, I would have been something I never wanted to be.”

“I never wanted to be what Mr. Rourke made me, either,” I say softly, unthinking. “I got sucked
in, though. Or...he infected me. I'm not even sure how it happened. It was like...I was a frog in a
pot of water, and he just kept turning up the heat, but I couldn't feel it until I was already
boiling. By the time he was telling me to kill, I was his creature. He told me to kill my best
friend, and it never occurred to me that he might be wrong.”

“But...being asked to kill us snapped you out of it?” She sounds...not quite skeptical, but unsure.
“I believe you had a fondness for us, but that didn't exactly stop you from killing my mother.

“It may have been a combination of triggers,” I concede. “I had been told to protect you with my
life up until then. Mr. Rourke had promised Aleister he wouldn't harm you. Then he ordered me
to kill you. It was enough to throw me off balance. And then when he said that he had
technically told the truth because he wasn't going to hurt you, and that's what I was for... Then I
saw you on your knees in front of me, and...I woke up. You look so much like your mom, Estela.
And...she was so much like a mom to me when I knew her...” My voice breaks. I'm starting to
realize that there are tears slipping down my cheeks. “I'm sorry...I'm so sorry, Estela...I don't
know if you can ever forgive me...”

Estela turns to look at me. Her expression is heavy with sorrow. “...I don't know either, Lila. I
don't know if letting go of the need for revenge is the same thing as forgiveness...but I can at
least offer you that much.”

“...Really?”
She smiles wryly. “It's hard to hold onto that vendetta when the person I was supposed to be
avenging is alive. ...But even if she didn't come back...even if she didn't come back and you
did...after five years of living with everything that happened on that island...” She trails off,
sighing. “I just...I have too much going for me now to let the past drag me down. ...My mother
wouldn't rest in peace knowing I was spending the rest of my life in prison for murder.”

My lips feel a little dry. I try to wet them with my tongue and find a chapped spot to worry with
my teeth for a moment. I knew Olivia was alive, ressurected the way I was. Raj had broken that
news to me gently, though I honestly wasn't surprised.

“...Do you think...is there any way I could...talk to Olivia?”

Estela winces. “I...don't think that's in the cards right now.”

“Oh...okay. I understand.”

“For now...why don't you and I work on getting comfortable with each other again? Make that
our New Year's resolution?”

I nod eagerly. “Of course. Of course, Estela. I've been given more chances than anyone should
have. I don't want to waste this one.”

She puts out her hand, and I shake it. After a moment, we seem to silently agree that it's time to
head back to the party. As she opens the door to the game room, Raj, Craig, and Zahra all
stumble back from it.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Estela asks, eyes narrow. Raj and Craig blush, looking away guiltily.

“Uh...Diego told us there was a pool table in here,” Raj stammers. “But the door was closed,
and...uh...”

Zahra rolls her eyes. “And we saw you two go in here, and we were eavesdropping to make sure
no one ruined the party. Now if you two have cleared out the bad air, do you mind letting us in?
We actually want to play pool.”

Michelle

Whatever Lila and Estela said to each other, it seems to have cleared the air. The party
continues without any hint of the tension that crackled in the air not too long ago. All that's left
now is a feeling that all is right with the world. Twelve Catalysts—plus a few cherished
friends—are all together. Just as we should be. For the most part, the party seems to be sticking
together. When Craig and Zahra head into the game room to play pool, the rest of us migrate in
after them. We don't all take our turn playing, but we watch the action and hold conversations
above the clacking of pool balls knocking against each other. When pool loses its appeal, we
migrate back out to the main sitting room. Raj figures it's time for the combination
wedding/baby shower portion of the evening, and forces me and Taylor in a pair of chairs in
the middle of the room so we can open presents. Sean and Jake are enlisted to take turns
carrying the gifts over to us and read the cards that accompany them. Taylor and I take turns
unwrapping gifts at an unhurried pace, giving everyone enough time to “ohh” and “ahh” and
“aww” over every onsie, decorative towel set, baby blanket, and embroidered throw pillow. Of
course, every time I break a ribbon, someone remarks that I'm destined to have another baby.
Grace and Quinn, giddy on Raj's signature cocktails, decide to take it a step further, predicting
the sex based on who gave the present the ribbon came from, and assigning names to my
hypothetical children. Apparently, courtesy of Raj, Estela, Grace, and Diego, I am destined to
have four children named Victor, Susanne, Vera, and Phillip.

“Wow, Michelle, four kids,” Taylor teases. “I can barely believe I'm going to have one.”

“Yeah, that feeling will last awhile,” Grace chuckles. “But at some point, the reality will sink in.
And then you'll start thinking about whether you want more.”

“Personally,” Aleister says from where he is sitting on the floor with Reggie and a pile of
building blocks, “I would love for Reggie to have a sibling, but I am hoping we wait at least
another year before actively trying for a second child.”

“Well, that is the plan,” Grace assures him, but then she grins mischeivously. “But sometimes
things happen.”

“I was just realizing,” Quinn says suddenly, “that Grace and Aleister are the first Catalysts to be
both married, and to have a baby. I mean, technically, Taylor, Jake, and Diego were the first
Catalysts to get married, but Grace and Aleister were the first to get married after the island...”

“It's true,” Taylor concedes. “And you're still the first of all of us to have kids. But given my five
year absence from my own marriage, I think Diego and Varyyn definitely hold the title of the
oldest Catalyst marriage.”

“Congratulations, darling,” Varyyn quips, winding his arms around Diego from behind and
kissing his cheek. Diego laughs, leaning into the embrace.

“It's been an amazing five years.”

“Do you guys ever think about bringing kids into the equation?” Sean asks.

“It is something we had imagined,” Varyyn admits. “But the pair of us raising a child in your
world seemed much less likely than it would have been if we had chosen to live in Elyys'tel.
Since we obviously cannot conceive one of our own together...”
“Our options were either to get a surrogate or adopt. And both of those seemed dauntingly
complicated when we thought about explaining Varyyn's appearance. But...” Diego reaches
back to stroke the back of Varyyn's head, “now that you have that disguise, the subject might be
worth revisiting.”

“If you guys want a surrogate, I'd be willing,” Taylor declares. “I mean, once I'm recovered from
this pregancy, of course. And if Jake were okay with it.”

“I dunno, Princess. I gotta admit that sounds a little weird on the face of it. I wouldn't dismiss it
out of hand, though, if it were important to Diego and Varyyn.”

“Well, if we went that route, I think I'd have to provide the...genetic material,” Diego muses. “I'd
be paranoid about an outside volunteer giving birth to a blue or green baby. And if Allie were
the surrogate, I'd worry about mixing Vaanti DNA with half-human, half-Prism alien.”

“When you put it like that, I can see where it might get weird pretty quick,” Taylor admits.
“Being the aunt/bio-mom to a kid whose bio-dad I think of as my brother...”

“Adoption would help you sidestep all that weirdness,” I point out. “It's what Sean and I want to
do whenever we're ready for kids.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, it's really more like Michelle wants to adopt and I don't have a preference,” Sean clarifies.
“Whenever we decide we want kids, it doesn't matter to me how we get them, whether we have
our own or adopt.”

“But Michelle, you definitely want to adopt?”

I nod. It's a discussion Sean and I have had more than once. In any other company, I might
consider it too personal to share. I don't even plan on telling my mother until after the wedding,
when I know she'll ask about the possibility of grandchildren. But I don't think twice about
telling the Catalysts. I don't think there's much I would want to keep from them unless it was
something I hadn't dealt with myself.

“Either adopt or get a surrogate if we decide we really want our own kids. The long and short of
it is that I don't want to be pregnant. I'd love to be a mom some day, but I also still plan on
being a neurosurgeon. And I don't want to be worried about pregnancy complicating my
progress if my body doesn't react well to it or there are complications.”

“That makes sense,” Taylor concedes. “I might have suggested adoption myself a few years
down the line if this one hadn't crept up on me.”

“So, guys...” Diego says suddenly, “I have a very important question. How long has this been
going on?”
He points towards Quinn, waving his index finger in a circle, a conspiratorial grin on his lips. I
look at Quinn, raising an eyebrow when I realize that she has cozied up to Estela, who seems
quite content to have the other woman in her arms. Estela blushes, but she's smiling as she
averts her eyes.

“Only about a week.”

Zahra snorts. “Officially maybe.”

“Huh?” Craig frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please,” Zahra rolls her eyes. “Those two have been giving off 'vibes' around each other for
months. I can't be the only one who noticed.”

The somewhat embarassed silence that ensues seems to confirm that she was in fact the only
one to notice. Taylor raises one finger.

“In my defense, I'm on the other side of the country most of the time.”

“Me too,” Diego agrees. “And Jake and Varyyn and Mike.”

“And I spent a lot of time outside the country,” Raj points out. “But whether or not we noticed,
it's awesome! You two'll be great together, I'm sure.”

“Well, we certainly hope so.”

Quinn suddenly sits up. “Oh! Raj! The cake! Should we do that now?”

“Right! Cake!” Raj claps his hands. “Michelle, Taylor, the part of the evening where we pamper
you two isn't over yet, because Quinn baked birthday cake. Everybody into the kitchen!”

Taylor

I expected Raj to outdo himself with the cooking for this party. I expected Quinn to provide
enough cupcakes to feed an army. I knew that Raj intended to make me and Michelle the focus
of much of the evening, considering that we're both celebrating birthdays at the same time that
she's planning her wedding and I'm twenty-seven weeks pregnant. But somehow, when I see
the elegant layer cake that Quinn has prepared, smooth vanilla frosting topped with beautiful
sugar roses, I feel tears clogging my throat. I manage to make it through the song and the
cutting of the cake without breaking down. But in the chaos of serving that follows, I have to
slip outside. I open the sliding door, hoping the chatter in the kitchen covers the soft rushing
noise it makes as it glides on its runners, and slip out onto the deck.
The sun has been down for awhile, and the temperature has dropped with it. It's still nothing
like the ice age side of La Huerta, or even Hartfeld this time of year. Plus, my current condition
has me running hot most of the time, so the cool, salty breeze trailing over my face and tugging
at my hair feels quite soothing. I wander down toward the pool. The timed lights under the
water have flickered on, as have the lamps that line the pathways. My breath is hitching as I
walk the perimeter of the swimming pool, heading toward the flagstone staircase that leads
down to the cove. I grip the railing as I navigate the steps carefully.

I know I was already in the picture when my aunt and uncle bought the beach house, because
Aunt Molly often joked about how the beach house and I were the same age because it was built
the year I was born. Having a second home on the waterfront for entertaining and retreats had
always been in their plans, though. They had spared no expense, choosing a brand new house
that opened onto the sands of a private cove, with only a handful of neighbors sharing the shore
with them.

Several of my neighbors appear to be having parties tonight. Music and laughter drift over the
beach from back decks. As it gets closer to midnight, I expect the beach will fill with my
neighbors and their guests and their bonfires, but for now, they're sticking inside. As I reach the
bottom of the stairs, the party sounds are overpowered by the whisper of the waves breaking
on the shore. I sit down to take off my shoes and socks and make my way across the soft, cold
sand toward the water. Before I quite realize it, I've stepped onto wet sand, and the cool waves
are washing over the tops of my feet. I gasp slightly at the chill, and that dissolves the knot of
tears that has crystalized in my throat. I sob, quietly but thoroughly, the spasms coming from
deep in my core. It feels almost unbearably wonderful, exciting and terrifying, to cry like this
while memories flood my mind like a film montage. They're not memories of my childhood, of
time spent in this house or on this beach. I was rarely allowed here, especially before I became
a teenager. No, the memories flooding my head are all of my Catalysts. Of all of us together,
happy and hopeful. The party at Elysian Lodge. My resolution to hold onto what mattered, to
protect the people I loved, to prevent what I thought were their terrible futures that I was
seeing every time we touched another amber idol together. Kissing Jake on the roof while the
Lights of Vaanu shimmered in the frozen sky overhead. The desperation in his kiss was subtle,
but I could taste it as clearly as my own, our fears for ourselves and each other flavoring our
passion.

I remember the first party we had together, the first night we were on the island, not yet
friends. I remember Raj bringing us together with a feast just a few nights later, and I
remember kissing Quinn in the hours before, tasting vanilla frosting on both our mouths.

I remember my wedding day, the warmth of Jake's calloused palm against mine and the
softness and pressure of the silk ribbon Seraxa wound around our hands. The way we had
gazed at the cliffside from The Dorado while Jake painted pictures in my mind of a quiet little
cottage just for the two of us, and the slow realization that I had nothing waiting for me on the
other side of the island. That I could not even remember the faces of my family. And just hours
later, the truth that Vaanu revealed to me...the way my heart had screamed in rebellion,
desperately seeking a way to get back what was lost, the temptation to either give the world to
Rourke or let it burn...the sinking resignation as I realized what I had to do...
“Taylor!” I turn to see Jake jogging across the sand to reach me. He stops in front of me,
frowning, his brow knitting with concern. One hand cups my cheek, flushed hot with the effort
of crying, while the other rests on my shoulder. “Hey...you okay?”

I cover his hand with mine, nodding. His thumb trails over the bony ridge beneath my eye,
dabbing gently at my tears. I lean forward, letting my arms encircle him as I bury my face in his
chest. He embraces me, stroking my hair and kissing the top of my head.

“Is it hormones again?”

“Probably,” I sniff. “...Do you think we'll ever have a normal marriage?”

“What do you mean a 'normal' marriage?”

“You know...like Diego and Varyyn have. Or Grace and Aleister.”

“...Varyyn is a hyper-evolved human with blue skin, and until a week ago, he and Diego couldn't
consider things like adoption or anything that would put them under any real scrutiny for fear
of what would happen if they started questioning Varyyn's appearance.”

“...Like Grace and Aleister, then.”

“I'd argue that they don't exactly have a 'normal' marriage, either. But then...I'm still not sure
what you're thinking of when you say 'normal'.”

I sigh. “...I don't know.” I turn in his embrace so that I am looking at the sea as I lean against his
chest. “We got married at Niala'rei. On that day, we committed to each other for a year and a
day, and eternity if we were still in love after that. ...But I was gone by the next day.”

His arms tighten around my shoulders. “You're here now.”

“Yeah, but...what would the Vaanti say about our situation? Do we have to spend another year
and a day living together before our souls are officially joined? Does it count that we're still in
love after five years if we haven't spent all that time in each other's presence?”

“Does it matter what the Vaanti would say?”

I'm not sure why, but his question catches me off-guard. “Well...I...” I trail off, frowning. There's
only one honest answer I can give. “...Yes. ...Sort of...”

“Why?” His tone is gentle, curious without being accusing or judgmental. I am quiet for a long
moment, considering. Why exactly does it matter to me whether the Vaanti believe my soul is
tied to Jake's already or if they would tell me that I needed to pass a year and a day by his side
first?
“...I guess...maybe a part of me still believes in their power. In the power of their gods and
guardians...in the power of a creature called the Endless who isn't me...” I close my eyes,
pressing close to my husband. Feeling secure in his arms, I let the words flow out of me. “...A
part of me is still scared. Still looking for guidance. ...When I came face-to-face with Vaanu and I
learned the truth about what I was...that was the scariest thing I'd ever gone through. When I
had to make that choice...it wasn't just that there wasn't a perfect option. It wasn't just that
there wasn't a future where I saved the world and lived in it, too. ...The really scary part was
that it was all down to me. It's like...when people say that everyone dies alone. You can die
surrounded by your loved ones, but in the end, you have to take that last step alone. I was born
from all of your need, your hopes, your fears. We had gone through that nightmare together,
but in the end, I was the only one who could decide how it all ended. Even with all the guidance
and encouragement and love that surrounded me, I was the only one who could take that final
step.

“All that time, I had counted on all of you. I had trusted in the island's power, the Endless, the
Vaanti, Vaanu to guide me on the right path. Even Rourke guided me sometimes, if only by
showing me where I shouldn't lead us. But in the end, the power was mine. It was all in my
hands. ...And I ended up losing you.”

His arms are tight around my shoulders. He presses a kiss to my cheek. “I'm right here,
Princess. We're together now.”

“I know...it's just...I'm scared, you know? I'm always scared that we'll lose each other again.”

“So am I,” he admits. “...I don't know if there's a way to stop being scared of that.”

“...Maybe a part of me believes that if we can fulfil our handfasting vow...if we can be together
for a year and a day and by Vaanti tradition, have our souls bound together forever... If we had
faced Project Janus after being together for a year and a day, a part of me wants to believe that
Vaanu couldn't have ever taken me back. That he couldn't have taken me back because our
bond wouldn't have allowed me to rejoin him.”

It's Jake's turn to be silent and thoughtful. His hands trail down my arms to wrap gently around
my swollen belly.

“...I don't know if that would have been true,” he says at last. “We're not immortal, Taylor.
Someday, I'll die. Someday, you'll die, too. And someday, a long time after that, our baby—this
little baby girl that ain't born yet? She'll die, too. ...Even the Vaanti die eventually. Even fasted
Vaanti who have lived with their partners for a year and a day have to give up the ghost some
day. A lot of them end up leaving their partners alone for awhile. ...Even if there is any magic to
the 'year and a day' tradition, it won't stop nature taking its course. Not sure if it could have
stopped you from giving yourself back to Vaanu, either. And I ain't sure I would have wanted it
too. ...It tore me apart to give you up, Taylor. But the choice was yours to make. I'm your
partner, not your master. I don't ever want to be a chain that keeps you from doing what you
believe is right.”
“...I love you, Jake.” There's not much else I can say to that.

“I love you, too, Taylor. I don't need to wait a year and a day to know that I'm bound to you
forever. I knew it long before that ribbon was wrapped around our hands.”

“...So did I,” I confess. “...I fell in love with you over two-thousand times, Jake McKenzie. I carried
all those memories somewhere in my mind all through that last timeline. ...I'm yours. Now and
forever.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you really know how adored you are. How much every person in that
house up there loves you.”

“...If it's half as much as I love them, then I am the luckiest person on earth.”

I exhale slowly, my breath shaking as the last of my tears dry up, leaving something still and
quiet at my center. The steady rolling and breaking of the waves over the shore is almost
hypnotic. Since the dawn of humanity, how many have stood on this very shore under the
moonlight and watched the waves roll in and out? What ancient creatures' bones lie fossilized
millions of miles under my feet? Who were the first human beings to reach this cove?

In the back of my mind, I hold an image of a woman my own age, also with child, standing on
this shore and watching the waves with her lover at her back. Perhaps an American settler
from the east, whose husband planted eucalyptus trees. ...Or a Mexican woman in the last days
of the war. ...Was she aware of the war? Did she worry about it? Did her husband fight? Did it
matter to her whether her child was born in a territory that belonged to Mexico or to America?

...Her ancestors are varied. Somewhere in her DNA is a Spanish woman who found love with an
indigenous man. Further back was a woman who had secretly loved a Spanish soldier. But
before her was one who had been called a savage by the Spanish soldier who marched into her
village with the others and laid his hands on her as if he owned her. I can see his face, a face
that might be handsome if it were not twisted with perverse pleasure...I can feel his
hands...grabbing...tearing...

“...No...”

“No?”

Jake's voice makes me gasp as an electric spasm shoots down my spine. I pull myself from the
arms encircling me, whipping around to face my husband. He pulls his hands back, holding
them up and open as if to demostrate that he's unarmed. I feel a hot flush creep up my neck as I
realize that he is looking at me with a mix of concern and confusion. I put a hand to my chest,
trying to take slow breaths so that my rapid pulse will steady. He'll worry if I don't attempt to
explain my sudden anxiety. I briefly consider making something up, but I did promise not to
hide things from him like I did on the island.

“...I'm...I'm all right,” I assure him. “Just...something kind of weird happened just now...”
“Yeah?” He cautiously reaches out to stroke my shoulder, giving me time and room to retreat if
I want to. I don't. I step closer to him.

“I was just daydreaming. Imagining all the people who might have stood on this beach
throughout human history...and...I don't know if I just imagined too deeply or what, but...I
started to feel like I was actually...seeing them. Feeling them...”

“...What did you see? Or feel?”

“...A Native American woman. Spanish soldiers came to her village...they...”

Jake winces, drawing me gently into his arms and cradling my head on his shoulder. “I can
guess,” he says grimly. “Fucking bastards...”

I sigh. “History is full of conquests, and all of those conquests come with bastards drunk on
their own power claiming the conquered women as spoils.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw bastards like that on both sides when I was in the Navy. But...shit,
Taylor...were you...experiencing that just now?”

“Not...fully.”

“Even a little is too much for my liking.” He gently cups my face in his hands and kisses my
forehead.

“I'm okay,” I assure him again. He pulls back slightly, examining my face in the light from the
moon and the houses that line the cove.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, it was scary in the moment. But now, I'm more wondering why it happened like
that. I mean, why I saw and felt it.” I feel my brow knitting. “...When we encountered the
Endless in the cave on La Huerta, and I asked for proof that we could trust her, she listed facts
about us all. And she said that wherever I am, if I stand still long enough I start to imagine all
the people who have stood on that ground before me. ...That's been true for as long as I can
remember. For as many timelines as I can remember. I never felt...taken in like this before.”

“You think it might have something to do with the prism half of your DNA?”

Something in either his question or the way he asks it calms me considerably. I meet his eyes,
and in the depths of our shared soul, I know that he not only accepts the non-human half of me,
but he embraces it. He loves it as a part of me, even knowing that it may yet reveal new ways to
complicate my existence and his.

“Most likely,” I concede. “The Endless did say that I probably have powers that haven't
manifested yet.”
“Well...hopefully it's something you can learn to control so you aren't just experiencing horrible
things whenever your power feels like it.”

“Hopefully,” I echo. “...I think I'm ready to go back to the party now.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jake brushes my mouth with his. “You are one of the guests of honor, after all.
Let's get you back to your adoring fans.”

Zahra

I guess Taylor had an attack of hormones or something because she disappeared for awhile
after the cake was cut. She came back tucked under Jake's arm, her eyes tellingly puffy, but no
one pressed her on it. I lost track of her for awhile after that, wandering back into the game
room with Craig and Raj. Murphy follows us, jumping up to perch on the edge of the pool table
and swat at the balls as they roll past him.

I get the fucking pants thrashed off me first couple games we shoot.

“Too many cocktails,” I mutter, even though my last drink was an hour ago. “Can't shoot
straight.”

“Only thing to do is have a couple more!” Craig declares. “Wanna head back out to the party?”

“I'm game for it,” Raj agrees, and Murphy yips, which sounds like he's game, too. I shrug.

“Yeah, sure.”

Of course, Craig notices right away that something's up. And of course he figures out right away
what it is.

“Hey, Z...are you planning on giving Taylor the...you know, the thing tonight?”

“What thing?” Raj asks.

I sigh. “Well, you might as well know. Grace's mom found some stuff out on Taylor's mom. I've
been doing some digging, and I brought it along to show her.”

Raj frowns. “Is it bad?”

“No. I mean, not obviously. She worked for Mansingh Transglobal as a researcher and
developer. She was a computer science major, and worked on some pretty cutting edge
programming. Most prominently, some of the most advanced digital drawing/rendering
programs of the early nineties. There's just some stuff that's...weird. Like the fact that her
maiden name was Sullivan. Or the fact that with that advanced digital rendering, she managed
to draw a chillingly realistic picture of the woman her daughter would grow up into, in spite of
the fact that it was painted while Taylor was still a fetus.”

“That does sound kinda weird,” Raj agrees. “But her husband was Vaanu, remember. And if she
was a descendant of La Huerta's Sullivans, she may have been exposed to the Island's Heart—
or inherited exposure from her ancestors. It does make sense that Vaanu might choose a proto-
Vaanti to be Taylor's mother.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm thinking, too. But then there's also the matter of the Trojan Project.”

“What's that?”

“Something Cassandra Chandler was working on before she died. I've been looking into it. It's
not easy to find information on it. At all. But I've been able to uncover enough to make me think
it wasn't related to computers.”

“So...what was it related to?”

I meet his eyes. “Something that would make a lot of sense for the mother of the Endless to be
looking into. ...Time travel.”

Estela

I help Grace and Aleister put Reggie down around eight o'clock. He's set to spend the night in
the room that will be River McKenzie's in a matter of months. It is a room in progress, to be
sure. A wallpaper mural of jungle flora and fauna is spread over the walls, and soft green carpet
covers the floor, but most of the furniture hasn't arrived yet, so Grace and Aleister have
brought along a travel crib. An air mattress has been set up and made up on the floor as well, so
that Grace and Aleister can sleep in the same room. This beach house was built for entertaining
and has a number of guest rooms, but there is still going to be doubling by necessity, and a few
will have to camp out on the convertible sofas.

In the bathroom attached to the nursery, Aleister fills the tub with a few inches of warm water
while Grace and I carefully undress him. Reggie clearly knows what's coming and does his best
to help us undress him, straining eagerly toward his father and the bathtub. I laugh.

“You like bathtime, mi conejito? That's good. Makes things easier for Mommy and Daddy,
doesn't it?”

“Unless we're trying to get his clothes off,” Grace chuckles as she finally tugs off the last sock.
“All right, my clever boy,” Aleister says, scooping up his son and lifting him into the tub. “Let's
get you into the nice warm water.”

Reggie happily plops down in the water and immediately begins slapping the surface with his
chubby little hands, and kicking his feet to feel the current swirl around his legs. While Aleister
bathes him gently, Grace and I ask him questions. He can't say more than a handful of words
right now, but he can point to people, objects, and parts of his own body.

“Where is your foot, Reggie?” we ask him. “Where is Daddy? Where is Tia Estela?”

Grace suddenly smiles, looking up past me and Aleister. “Who is that coming into the
bathroom?” We turn to look, and find Taylor hovering shyly in the doorway, Jake standing
beside her with his hands on her shoulders.

“...Sorry, are we intruding? The door was open...”

“Not at all,” Aleister assures them. “It's your home.”

“Still, I'm guessing you don't want everyone crowding around your son during his bath,” Jake
remarks, even as he and Taylor slip into the bathroom. “Don't want to freak the kid out.”

“Reggie,” Aleister begins, and Reggie quickly turns to look up at his father. “Your Auntie Taylor
and Uncle Jake are going to talk to Mummy and Daddy while you have your bath. Is that all
right?”

I don't know if Reggie actually understood any part of that question, but he smiles at Aleister
and cooes as he holds up a toy boat, so we take it to mean he isn't distressed.

“ 'Auntie and Uncle',” Taylor echoes. “Is that what we are?”

“It seems fitting,” Aleister says. “And it is hardly an uncommon term of respectful endearment
to a close friend of one's parents.”

“When I was growing up, all close friends of my folks were Auntie and Uncle,” Jake says. “It was
just considered respectful where I'm from.”

“It was the same for me with friends of my dad,” Grace agrees. “Mom's friends and associates
were whatever they preferred to be called. Sometimes that was 'Ms. Jones ' or 'Mr. Smith,' but
some let me use their first names.”

“That's how it was with any friends of my aunt and uncle,” Taylor remarks. “When it came to
Diego's family and neighbors, I just used the words he used. There were plenty
of tios and tias, and his parents were Mama and Papa, and I was mija to everyone...”

She lowers the lid of the toilet and sits down carefully. Jake leans against the sink.
“How's the room?” he asks. “Adequate for the night?”

“Oh, it's just fine, thank you.”

“I love the wallpaper,” Grace adds. “And the carpet is so soft.”

“I had kinda hoped the crib would be here in time for tonight, but the one we really wanted
ended up being backordered. Hopefully it gets here in time for River.”

“You've still got plenty of time,” I say, absently trailing my fingers through the bath water.

“The time will pass more quickly than you think it will,” Aleister warns. “I remember when
Reggie was born, it felt like no time at all between that moment and Grace telling me that she
was pregnant.”

I snort. “Says the one who didn't have to carry the child for nine months.”

Grace laughs. “You might be surprised to hear that it passed quickly for me, too. At least, there
were moments when I looked at the calendar and could hardly believe how close I was to my
due date.”

“I'm not sure how things are going to look in hindsight once she's born,” Taylor muses,
caressing her stomach. “Right now, there's a lot that sucks about being pregnant, and a lot
that's wonderful. But I'm mostly eager to meet River. To hold her and rock her and give her
baths...”

Aleister sighs wistfully. “Once she is born, the time will start to pass even faster.”

“That, I can definitely agree with,” Grace says, a bittersweet smile on her lips. “I can hardly
believe this boy is almost a year old...”

A silence descends over us, heavy with shared sentiment. It's not hard to guess what we're all
thinking about. There is joy in the anticipation of Reginald's first birthday and Taylor and Jake's
first child. There is joy in seeing Reginald grow and sweet sadness in saying goodbye to his
baby days. And of course, the twelve of us—plus Lila and Varyyn, I imagine—can't help but
remember the last time we were all together on New Year's Eve.

It seems to me that we were all so young then. The thought makes me feel ridiculous, given that
I'm not even thirty yet, but the change between who I was then and who I am now—who all of
us were then and now—is almost startling to think of. I think of myself, and of my brother, how
we were both bitter, angry, and lonely; motherless children abandoned and betrayed by the
father we didn't even know we shared. Really, all of us were misfits, somehow out of place in
the world we had come from. Even Taylor, even before the timelines repaired themselves to
give her a past and a home. She was the Mystery, the one who seemed linked to the island in
ways the rest of us couldn't fathom. Even before the discovery of the Island's Heart, she was the
one who could understand the Vaanti. The one who the Guardians were drawn to—and the
only one who could get through to Quinn when Vaanu took her over. None of us fit with the
world. But we fit with each other.

We've grown since then. We've changed. We've moved on with our lives. But we haven't
forgotten each other. Distance has not weakened this family. If anything, our bonds are
stronger than ever. They stayed strong enough over five years to bring Taylor back to us. I hope
and pray that twelve will remain as one until the last of us is laid in a grave.

“...Estela?” Aleister's voice brings me back to reality.

“Sorry, what?”

He nods over my shoulder. “Could you pass me the towel?”

I turn and find the soft yellow terrycloth hanging behind my head, draped on the rack on the
wall. I tug it down and pass it to Aleister.

“Right. Sorry. Lost myself in thought for a moment.”

“What were you thinking?” Taylor asks as Aleister wraps his son in the towel and lifts him from
the bath. I lean back against the wall, feeling a smile playing around my mouth.

“That it's fitting we should all be here together for New Year's Eve. And that I plan to toast to
many more to come.”

***

When Reggie has drifted off and Grace has set up the baby monitor, we rejoin the party. At
some point, Taylor dozes off on the couch, cuddled up with Jake, but she comes awake again
close to eleven, when we start migrating toward the beach. With many of Taylor's neighbors
having the same idea, Varyyn opts to put on his holographic disguise. Though we were all told
of Dax's gift, this is the first time I've seen it demonstrated. It's more than a little strange to see
Diego cozying up to someone who looks so different from the Varyyn we know, and even
stranger to hear Varyyn's voice and speech patterns coming from this stranger's lips. But I
suppose it's something we'll get used to.

On the beach, we build a bonfire in a portable fire pit. We might have just assembled one from
scratch like we would have on the island, but I don't think we could get the materials to do so
without risking stealing someone else's plantlife. It's turned cool since the sun has set, so we
pull our lawn chairs into as tight a circle as we can make around the firepit and wrap ourselves
up in blankets. Quinn and I lie side-by-side on a chair, a blanket draped over our legs.

“So what are everyone's resolutions this year?” Quinn asks.

“Oh, yeah!” Raj's face lights up. “We should go around the circle and say what our resolutions
are!”
Diego mock-groans. “Oh, come on, do we have to be so orderly about it?”

“Yes!” Raj replies firmly. “That way everyone is sure to get their turn.”

“Come on, Raj! That's like those lame families at Thanksgiving who go around their tables
announcing what they're thankful for!” Zahra whines.

“Hey, you did exactly that with my family a couple months ago,” Craig points out.

“And it was lame. I just didn't say anything out of politeness.”

“Well, you can follow your own example tonight, too,” Raj retorts cheerfully. “Quinn, why don't
you start us off, since you asked the question?”

“Well, okay.” Quinn sits up a little in my arms. “I resolve...to start learning a new skill. Like a
musical instrument or knitting or something. Estela?”

“Hmm. I suppose...I resolve to cherish my circumstances. I was once prepared to throw away
my freedom for something that I know now would have only left me hollow. So I am resolving
to be grateful for my freedom and any opportunity to make real change.”

“Which, as a CEO of Rourke International, you have plenty of opportunity to do,” Aleister points
out. “And with that in mind, I think I will resolve focus more of our resources on clean energy.
Silas Prescott's 'clean energy' cover story for the Prism Gate may have been tripe, but it has
gotten me thinking lately.”

“I'll resolve to make more of an effort to stay in contact with my dad,” Grace says. “He deserves
to see more of his grandson.”

“I resolve to get more sleep,” Michelle announces, and is met with approving chuckles.

“And to help you with that resolution,” Sean adds, “I resolve to help you out more, especially
with the wedding plans. Any task you need done, throw it my way and I will complete it to the
best of my ability.”

“Welp, I'm gonna be completely predictable and resolve to get some more exercise,” Craig says,
grinning. “Not saying I'm gonna in the kinda shape I was at Hartfeld, but Cheese Friday has
gotten me a little mushy.”

“I like you mushy,” Zahra says firmly. “But I guess I like you healthy, too. So, I resolve to help
you with your resolution by being your personal trainer and driving you mercilessly.”

Craig groans. “I think I'm regretting this already.”

By now we've circled around to Raj. “Okay, well. I'm resolving to be a little bit more organized.
Take a little more responsibility for not just planning my shows, but paying a little more
attention to logistics.”

He nods at Lila, who turns her gaze on the flames. “I resolve to let go of who I was before. To let
go of Mr. Rourke and what I was to him. That isn't me anymore.”

Raj puts a hand on her shoulder. “Here, here.”

Lila smiles somewhat timidly before turning to the person beside her. “Jake? Your turn.”

“Me? Jesus, I dunno. Few more months, I'm gonna be someone's dad. Hard to think about
anything beyond that. But I guess I resolve to get the nursery finished by then.”

“Which should be easy since Molly and Rob insist on letting professionals do most of it,” Diego
snickers.

“Hey, if that crew is willing to come back after the way Jake was bossing them around over the
wall and floors, I'll be impressed,” Taylor quips. Jake slings an arm over her shoulders, kissing
her temple.

“That was my brilliant plan all along, Princess. So what's your resolution?”

“...Basically the same one I made last New Year's I experienced. I'm going to hold onto what
matters. Stay in the moment and not worry about the past. Protect what I love. And...maybe
look into finishing my degree, if motherhood permits me the time.”

Diego sighs. “So, am I seriously the one who's going to have the responsibility of throwing out
the joke resolution? You guys are gonna make me be the one who resolves to eat more ice
cream or something like that?”

“Hey!” Zahra yelps. “I'm the one who resolved to be Craig's personal trainer!”

“How is that a joke resolution?”

“Uh, because he played football, and if you haven't noticed, I have skinny T-rex arms?”

“Legs and ass, though,” Craig drawls, waggling his eyebrows. “Mmm-mm.”

“Craig, we all know your girlfriend's a snack. You can stop bragging about it.”

“Says my very gay best friend,” Taylor quips.

“Yeah, I'm gay, not blind. I'm just saying that if I had to pick a woman--”
“Thank you, Diego,” Zahra interrupts, smirking. “I'm flattered. I wouldn't kick you out of bed,
either.”

“As...confusingly sweet as this little flirtation is, both of your men are sitting right here, and you
should probably knock it off.”

“Yes, please do. Or I shall have to remind you who your fasted partner is.”

The dark-skinned man beside Diego pulls him playfully onto his lap. For a moment, I'm
alarmed, thinking that a stranger has crept into our circle, until I remember Varyyn's disguise.
Varyyn holds Diego against him, planting kisses on the back of his neck.

“Does this help improve your memory?” he asks between kisses.

“Mmm...it's getting there. I can almost remember now...”

“Okay, you two, save some of that for midnight. Varyyn, do you have a resolution for us?”

“Well...I suppose now that I can walk through the world a bit more openly, I suppose I would
like to experience new things. Things I have hesitated to try for fear that I would be seen and
questioned.”

“I can probably help you with some of that,” Mike remarks. “I'm planning on getting myself a
little more settled in the area. Get a permanent job, possibly an apartment...try to put myself a
little bit back in the world, more than I have been since I got back to the States.”

Jake reaches over to put a hand on Mike's shoulder. “...You know you're welcome here
indefinitely. You're a big help, and every extra set of hands is gonna be a blessing once River's
born.”

“I know. And I'm happy to help out however I can. ...But I also wanna get my own two feet back
under me. ...Metaphorically speaking,” he adds ruefully, flexing one bionic foot.

“I can't say I don't get that,” Jake concedes. “And I'll fully support you. ...But you are welcome to
stay with us as long as it takes.”

“Agreed,” Taylor adds. “It's a big place. It's your home until you're ready to move out.”

“Thanks. ...I feel like I should toast to that.”

“Oh! Good thinking, Mike!” Raj opens the cooler beside him, pulling out a bottle of champagne
and a bag of plastic champagne flutes. “It's getting near enough to midnight to break out the
bubbly. And don't worry, Taylor, I've got sparkling grape juice for you.”

“I wasn't worried. You've kept me well-stocked on mocktails this whole evening.”

“I live to serve!” Raj pops the cork and fills the glasses, passing them around the circle. When
everyone has a glass, he raises his. “Here's to a New Year. Here's to Michelle and Taylor as they
celebrate their twenty-eighth birthdays. Here's to Michelle and Sean as they prepare for their
wedding, and here's to Taylor and Jake as they prepare to welcome the newest addition to our
family. Here's to Reggie, who is almost a year old. We love you, little dude. ...Anyone have
anything to add?”

“Here's to having Allie back with us,” Diego says.

“Here's to this family,” Taylor adds. “All of you mean everything to me, and I can't believe how
lucky I am to have you.”

Beside me, Quinn raises her glass. “Here's to love. Eros, storge, philia, and agape.”

We raise our glasses, tapping them against the ones beside us before taking a sip. Around the
other bonfires on the beach, the neighbors have begun to shift, gathering together in
anticipation of the countdown.

“Two minutes until midnight, everyone!”

Couples begin pairing off, ready to ring in the new year with a kiss. I stand, carefully pulling
Quinn up with me. She stumbles a little, leaning heavily on me. She grins sheepishly up at me.

“Maybe I've had one too many cocktails...”

I grin back. Jesus, she's adorable. “We'll have time enough for you to sleep it off.”

“Mm...but I hope I don't fall asleep too quickly.” She winds her arms around my neck, standing
on her toes to whisper in my ear, “I've got a few ideas on how to properly ring in the new year.”

“You remember we're sharing a guest room with Craig and Zahra, right?”

“It's a big house. We can find a place to disappear.”

“Thirty seconds until midnight!” Craig calls before I can answer.

In twenty seconds, the whole cove rings out with the sound of the massive gathering counting
the last ten seconds until midnight. I join in, finding myself swept up in the festive mood. As the
last count dissolves into cheers and applause, I bend toward the woman in my arms and press
my mouth to hers. She parts her lips to receive me, tasting me hungrily. I feel my cheeks
growing warm as my belly flutters with anticipation. It isn't enough to feel her in my arms, or to
trace the inside of her mouth with my tongue. I reluctantly withdraw my tongue from her
mouth, though I keep my lips close.

“...Where did you have in mind for us to disappear to?”

 ***

Locked in one of the beach house's luxurious bathrooms, Quinn and I lie naked and spent in the
empty whirlpool bath, our sweat-slick bodies leaving impressions on the acrylic. I'm still
trembling with the exertion of my last climax, feeling heady and languid as I sink into the
afterglow with Quinn panting in my arms. I can still distantly hear voices elsewhere in the
house, traveling through the vents to reach the bathroom. Gradually, Quinn's breathing slows
and she lays her head on my chest.

“That was...incredible,” she murmurs around a yawn.

“Very,” I agree, stroking her copper hair, damp and tangled with sweat. “You are very...skilled.”

“So are you.”

“That is generous of you, but I know I am not. I was a virgin until about three years ago. I hadn't
even had my first kiss until then. ...Before you, I'd had only two partners, both of them men.”

“Then you have good instincts. Or...perhaps you have experience enough with your own body to
guess what might feel good on mine?”

“I suppose that could be it,” I concede. “The first man I slept with was very experienced. Very
generous, too. A considerate lover. I learned a great deal about my body from him, and I
suppose it's fair to say he awakened my appetites. Even after we were no longer seeing each
other, I found I had learned to enjoy exploring my own body.”

“Sounds like a good way to lose your virginity.”

“It was. I'm grateful that my first time was with an attentive partner, even if the relationship
didn't last.”

“My first time was probably much less pleasant. It was all consensual, but we were both virgins,
and neither of us knew what we were doing.”

“What sort of...equipment was your partner sporting?”

“Outdoor plumbing,” she giggles. “A man. Well...I use the term loosely. It was freshman year at
Hartfeld, and we were both barely legal previously sheltered kids drunk on the freedom of
college. ...I spent a lot of nights in other people's beds that semester. Hooking up with every
attractive person who was willing. But, that meant I learned a lot about sex, too.”

I chuckle. “You know, anyone who didn't know you better would never guess you were the type
to have a series of one-night stands. They would think you were too sweet and innocent for that
type of behavior.”

“But you know better?”

“I and all the other Catalysts certainly. We know that a sweet disposition doesn't preclude a
sexual appetite. ...And it seems natural to me that in your circumstances, you would have had a
lot of wild oats to sow, as the saying goes.”

“And you're a natural warrior. But that doesn't preclude a lack of sexual experience. It makes
sense to me that you would have focused everything on your mission to the point of ignoring
romance or even just sex because it wasn't a priority.”

“But lately, I find myself craving it. Especially with you.” I kiss the top of her head. “...Quinn?
What would you like us to be to each other?”

“Well...girlfriends, for now. …That is what we are, right?”

“Well, I hope so. But...I was thinking of in the future. We've known each other for a long time.
We've been friends for a long time. I've always loved you as my friend and fellow Catalyst. I
always will. But...as my girlfriend, that's...”

“...It's a new dynamic. One that might take some getting used to. ...We'll see where this goes,
Estela. I love you, too. I always have. ...I think I could love you as my girlfriend, too. And...maybe
someday, as my wife? As a mother to my children?”

I nod, a smile on my lips. “Yes. Yes, that's what I'm hoping for, too. ...I am hoping that this is the
relationship that lasts the rest of my life. ...I want to marry. I want to have a family. ...I hope that
further down the line, you and I decide we want to have that together.”

“I agree that would be the ideal outcome.” Quinn sighs happily, yawning again. “...Mmm...I think
I could just sleep here.”

I laugh. “We'll wake up freezing an hour from now if we don't at least put some clothes on.
Besides, I really think a bed would be more comfortable.”

“We smell like sex. Craig and Zahra will know what we've been up to.”

“Do you think they haven't been up to it themselves? Even if they haven't, I'm not ashamed of
having sex with my girlfriend.”

“Me neither. But maybe it's not polite to make our friends smell it.”

“Hmm, perhaps not. ...But I have an answer to that, I think. After all...we are in a bathtub.”

When we can finally summon the energy, we stop up the tub and turn on the water, filling it up
to our chests. We turn on the jets and let the water massage our tired muscles as we tenderly
bathe each other. The hot water saps the last of my energy, and clearly Quinn feels the same.
We lean heavily on each other as we stumble to the guest room, wrapped in soft towels, water
dripping off the ends of our hair. We'll clean up our mess in the bathroom in the morning, I
decide.
Craig and Zahra haven't come to bed yet, so we turn on the light as we paw through our
overnight bags for sleep clothes and toothbrushes. We throw on our pajamas, hastily brush our
teeth, and stumble into one of the two double beds in the guest room. I just barely manage to
kiss Quinn goodnight and draw her into my arms before I've fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep.

***

We're having an earthquake. That's the next thought I am aware of as I am forced out back to
wakefulness by a vigorous vibration. As my roaming consciousness is unceremoniously
dumped back into my brain, my waking body struggles to make sense of my surroundings. My
hand fumbles for Quinn and finds her still curled against my body. I realize there is a hand on
my shoulder. That's where the shaking is coming from. And there is a person speaking.

“Estela!” My brother's voice is a whisper, but there's an urgency in it that turns the sound
harsh. “Estela, wake up!”

“...Aleister?” I roll over, rubbing my eyes. Quinn stirs beside me, and past Aleister, I can see
Zahra tucked in the other bed, lifting her head off the pillow. I can faintly hear Craig snoring
beside her. I try to look at the digital clock on the nightstand between the beds, but the room is
still dark, and my eyes seem disinclined to focus. “...What time is it?”

“It's a little after five in the morning. But I'm afraid this can't wait.”

There's something in his voice that makes my stomach go hot and then cold before settling into
a hard lump. In an instant, I am awake. I meet his eyes in the dim light of the moon that comes
through the window, and nod toward the door that leads to the hall. As he gets off the bed,
Quinn sleepily mumbles my name.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep, mi sirenita. I'll be right back.”

“Mmmokay...” Quinn yawns and rolls over again, her breathing deep and even within seconds.
I'm not sure she was ever fully awake. I follow Aleister out into the hall.

“...What's wrong?”

“Estela, I just got a call from the mental institution in Northbridge. ...They said that...they found
Father dead in his room this morning.”

Chapter 38: Right Hand

Summary:
Estela and Aleister return to Northbridge to identify their father's body, and make an unsettling
discovery

Notes:
Content Warning: Talk of suicide this chapter
Chapter Text

Taylor
I can't believe it.

That seems to be the general sentiment on the morning of my twenty-eighth birthday, as the
news filters through our ranks. Everett Rourke is dead. They found him hanging in his room.
They're calling it an “apparent suicide,” which I suppose makes sense. Now Estela and Aleister
have to return to Northbridge to identify the body within 48 hours.

“...I don't believe it,” Estela growls. I look up from the glass of orange juice I'm nursing. Estela is
seated across from me at the kitchen table. Her chair is pushed out a good distance from the
table, and her lithe back is flat, even as she rests her chin on her fist on top of the smooth
mahogany table. She glares down at the table, eyes narrow as if the fate of the world hinges on
her memorizing every detail of the grain.

“I don't either,” Lila murmurs, staring out the window. “It doesn't make sense. Not now. Not
now that he had hope. Not now that he believed he had the chance to...reclaim what he'd lost.”

“...Do you think he could really do it?” Quinn asks. “Restart Project Janus?”

“Not if he's dead,” Lila replies flatly. “He can't really do anything if he's dead.”

“There are ways of faking one's death,” Estela says.

“But to fake a suicide by hanging?” Grace ventures gently. “How exactly would he pull that off?”

“I don't know,” Estela admits. “But I can't put anything past him. Lila is right. It doesn't make
sense that he would decide to kill himself now. Not when his white whale is back where he
could potentially reach her.” She looks at me as she says this, and I snort slightly as I lift my
juice off the table.

“You know, in my present condition, I could take that as an insult,” I quip without any genuine
mirth.

“Suicide doesn't always make sense,” Aleister murmurs. He sighs heavily. “In any case, I
requested an autopsy, so if Father is faking his death somehow, I'm sure they will figure it out
soon enough. ...Or they'll kill him in an effort to determine what killed him.”

Over his shoulder, I see Jake appear in the kitchen entryway. He steps inside to lean against the
wall, hands in his pockets.
“Bags are all loaded in the car, and there's a plane fueled and ready for us on the tarmac at SNA.
Should be about a five-hour flight. Maybe less.”

“You're taking my car and Quinn's?” I ask. The morning has been so confused and harried that
I'm not sure I have the plans straight in my head.

“Right. Raj and Lila'll drive Quinn's car back to Northbridge, and Mike and I'll drive yours back
here when we get back to California tomorrow morning. ...You'll be okay overnight, right?”

“I'll be fine. Not like I'll be alone.”

“Yeah, I know. But you know I worry.”

“Varyyn and I will look after her,” Diego promises. I roll my eyes.

“Jeez, you'd think I was a baby instead of pregnant with one.”

“Z and I can stick around until you guys get back, too,” Craig offers.

“That really isn't necessary,” I assure him.

“Do you want us to stick around?” Zahra asks pointedly, sipping on her coffee.

“Of course I do.”

“Well then, we're staying. You got sweet digs here, Taylor. Of course we're gonna jump at the
chance to hang around here awhile longer.”

“Well, I suppose I can't argue with that logic.”

“We ought to get going, then,” Jake sighs. “California traffic. It's gonna be shit even on New
Year's Day. Where are Sean and Michelle?”

“Right here,” Sean says, coming up behind him.

“Oh, you guys are going with them?” I try not to sound too disappointed.

“We had to leave today anyway,” Michelle says apologetically. “I have to get back to work.”

“Yeah, me too,” Sean adds. “As long as the opportunity is here, might as well avoid going
through security.”

I sigh, standing up slowly. “Okay, but everyone who's leaving needs to hug me right now, or
you're not allowed out the door.”
Goodbyes obviously take awhile. It's lucky the plane won't leave without them. But, eventually,
Diego manages to pry me off our friends and guide me back to the kitchen table. I sit down
reluctantly. The weight of their absence makes the house feel very suddenly larger and emptier,
like mild air that suddenly feels uncomfortably cold when you've been covered by a blanket. I
sigh.

“I suppose I should start cleaning up,” I murmur.

“You mean Varyyn and I should start cleaning up,” Diego corrects me. I roll my eyes.

“Goddsake, Diego, I'm pregnant. Not an invalid.”

“Do you honestly feel up to bending down and picking up and carrying dishes and trash back
and forth?”

“Well...honestly, no.”

“There you go.” Diego wraps his arms around me from the side and kisses my cheek. “Finish
your breakfast, Allie. We'll clean up.”

“Let me help,” Craig says, pushing out his chair and standing up. Without waiting for a reply, he
follows Diego and Varryn toward the front room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Zahra.
For a long moment, she sits absolutely still, long enough that I start to feel a little weirded out.
But before I can ask her whether everything's okay, she brings her coffee mug to her lips and
tips her head back to down the rest in two big gulps before bringing her hand down with a
satisfied exhale.

“I needed that,” she grunts under her breath. Abruptly, she looks up and meets my eyes.
“Taylor, we should move somewhere private. There's something I have to tell you.”

I immediately feel my stomach knotting with dread. “That...sounds serious.”

“It is serious. I don't know if it's bad, but it is serious. I brought you something.” I am not sure
what her words up to this point have led me to expect, but I do know that I never could have
predicted the next words out of her mouth. “...It's about your mom.”

***

I remember going to the pediatrician as a kid and poking through the plastic milkcrate full of
toys in an attempt to distract myself from my anxiety. I have a clear memory of a thousand-
piece jigsaw puzzle that stayed in that milkcrate until my last pediatric visit. I always tried to
put it together before the receptionist called my name. Of course, I never succeeded. There was
never enough time, someone had always taken it apart and cleaned it up by the time I left, and
I'm pretty sure some of the pieces had gone missing over the years anyway.
I can still picture the beautiful image printed on the box: shimmering zodiac signs,
accompanied by exquisitely drawn animals, people, and objects to represent them, all splayed
out on a starscape backdrop. I can still remember kneeling on the worn carpet in the waiting
room, pawing through the pile of cardboard pieces and slowly watching the image form in front
of me as I pressed each piece into place. I remember the frustration and sense of loss as I was
guided back into the exam room with the puzzle never more than half-completed, with partially
assembled chunks missing connecting pieces.

Sitting in my room, looking at the information Zahra has presented me on my mother, I feel like
I am looking at that half-completed puzzle. Except this time, there isn't a box cover with a
complete image to guide me. I have to admit, I have no idea what to make of all of this.
Everything that Zahra knows—and Grace, Aleister, Estela, and Craig, apparently—about the
woman who gave birth to me is laid out in front of me, and I don't know what to make of any of
it. Perhaps what baffles me the most is that the digital image of me, supposedly painted while I
was in utero, doesn't baffle me more. It's actually less of a concern to me than the rest of it.

“So...she was studying something to do with time travel?”

“That's what it looks like. What exactly she was trying to do, I can't tell yet. But I'll keep looking
into it if you want me to.”

“Yeah...I mean...if you have the time, it might be important to know some of this stuff...”

Zahra frowns thoughtfully at me. “...Your aunt didn't talk about your mom much, did she?”

“No,” I admit. “Not really. I mean, she came up ocassionally. So did my father. Or...at least...the
man Vaanu was pretending to be came up sometimes. But I really only got either of them in bits
and pieces ...I don't know if Aunt Molly ever really dealt with her grief. She would start to tell
stories, and sometimes she got a decent ways into them, but at some point, she always just
stopped herself and shut down.”

“Did you even know your mom's maiden name? I mean, did it ever occur to you that she had
the same maiden name as the Vaanti Bride? Even just as a coincidence?”

“Officially, when we met Flora Sullivan, I had never had a human mother, remember?
Technically, that was before I was retconned into existence. And once I was retconned into
existence, any knowledge of my mom and aunt's maiden name was filed in the same memory
bank as the fact that I wasn't born on U.S. soil. …Reading it right now was the first time I
realized that I had known it all along.”

“Goddamn, your existence is crazy sometimes.”

“You're preaching to the choir,” I sigh ruefully. “...Thank you for showing this to me. I think I
should try to ask Aunt Molly for more details on my mom. ...I won't show her the picture,
though. Not unless I mean to tell her everything.”
Zahra frowns. “...Is she someone you could trust not to have you committed if you tell her you
can remember an alternate timeline where you didn't exist?”

“To be perfectly honest...I don't know. Which is why I'm not going to tell her yet. Maybe not
ever. ...But I do want to hear what else she has to say about my mom. If anything.”

“I gotta say, you're taking all this in stride.”

I shrug. “Well, some of it does concern me a little. But my mother did marry an alien. An alien
who knew he was going to father a child who would grow up to be me. I don't know if he
actually loved my mother, or if there was another reason he picked her. But it would kinda
surprise me if there wasn't something special about her. Like being a descendant of Flora
Sullivan. Or at least a descendant of one of her relatives.” I sigh. “...Honestly...if I could only have
one question about my parents answered for me, it would be whether my father actually loved
my mother. ...But right now, any answer I got would probably be overshadowed by the fact that
I just heard Everett Rourke is dead.”

“Right. That bombshell.”

I look up and meet her eyes. “...Do you believe it? Do you believe he's really gone?”

“No way in hell.” The complete lack of hesitation startles me.

“So you don't believe it?”

“Not for a second. Not until I see the body with my own eyes. And possibly not even then.”

“Why not?”

Zahra leans back on the unmade bed, propping herself up on the pillows and draping her arms
over the headboard behind her. She locks eyes with me, her gaze penetrating.

“You remember when I faked my death on the island?”

“And scared the crap out of everyone? I remember.”

“You remember why I said I did it?”

“...Because they couldn't kill you if they thought you were already dead.” An icy knot is settling
in the pit of my stomach. River must sense my anxiety, because she's doing somersaults in my
womb. Zahra nods grimly.

“It's not that complicated a concept. If Rourke means to try some shit, it'll be a lot easier if he's
free. Since he was given a life sentence with no possibility of parole, the only way to escape is to
be dead. There won't be a manhunt for a man everyone believes is dead.”
“Maybe, but...even if the concept is simple, the execution wouldn't be. He wasn't blown up or
anything. They found him hanging. How could he fake that? Especially alone?”

“I don't trust that he was acting alone.”

“Even so, he couldn't just build a dummy corpse, hang it, and expect it to fool anyone. They'd
figure it out well before autopsy.”

Zahra's eyes narrow just slightly. “...Who're you trying to convince here, Taylor? Me or
yourself? ...'Cause I don't think you believe it, either.”

“Do I believe my very own Captain Ahab has taken himself out of the picture? Of course not.
Sure, my head is telling me there's no way he could fake his own death by hanging. There's no
way he could set up a body that would pass inspection, not with autopsies and identification
and dental records and DNA tests. ...But my gut is screaming at me that he's not gone. He's not
gone, but the world is going to believe he is, and he's going to come for me. He's going to come
for me and my baby...”

I'm starting to panic. I know I am. But I can't quite fight it off until Zahra springs off the pillows
and alights at my side to put a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. No one's gonna let him get anywhere near you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know. I also know that the twelve of us have faced him and Arachnid before, and
we did it when the whole world was dead and we didn't have any backup. But it's really hard
not to feel a lot more vulnerable now that I don't have my link to the Endless and the Island's
Heart and while I do have a helpless little person inside me. Even just physically, I am way more
vulnerable than I was on the Island.”

“Are you though?”

“...What do you mean?”

“The Endless said that the powers passed on by the Prism Crystal are your birthright, too. That
you might have powers that haven't manifested yet. Unless you destroyed them, you also have
the Andromeda idol, the Endless' spacesuit, and the Andromeda armor.” She pauses, frowning.
“You dostill have them, right?”

“Yeah. They're in a trunk in the poolhouse.”

“Okay. So the odds seem pretty strong to me that you aren't actually powerless.”

Anything I might have responded with is cut off with a gasp as River gives me a particularly
sharp kick.

“God Almighty, this child is fiesty!”

“Takes after her parents,” Zahra quips. “Good.”

“I hope that if I do have some untapped superpowers, they're enough to keep this kid from
kicking through my uterus.” I lie down on the bed, stroking my belly. “Come on, sweetheart.
Calm down for Ma-mama...” My words abruptly dissolve into a yawn. Now that I'm lying down,
the exhausted fog that has hovered over my head since I got up is seeping fully into my brain. I
feel like my memory-foam mattress is ready to swallow me whole. I hear Zahra snort.

“Falling asleep on me, Chandler? Not cool.”

“Oh, lay off. I'm too pregnant to function on less than five hours of sleep, and coffee isn't an
option.”

“Eugh. Okay, fair enough. I'll let your caffeine-deprived ass rest then. I'll just go see if the guys
need any help cleaning up.”

I think I respond appropriately, but sleep is already taking hold, turning my thoughts to mush.

… Vanuu's face hovers above me. He is not quite in human form, but he is also not the faceless
apparition that I met on the island. He is frowning.
“Child,” he says, “where is your right hand?”
I am lying on my back, I realize. I strain to lift my head, puzzled by his question. I look down at my
body, and find it clad in red. Oh...that explains it. He is asking the Endless. I let my head drop back.
“I lost it.” I roll my head to the right to assess the damage. My right arm ends in a ragged stump
below my elbow, but there is no blood. No pain. In fact, I can still feel my severed limb. Only
it's...cold. Too cold. And it won't move.
“...How?”
I roll my head back to look up at my father. “I...don't remember...”
He sighs. “You will, my child. In time. Just look for now. Look.”
I do as he tells me, turning my head to the right again, but the effort is starting to hurt. I raise my
right hand, now a skeletal metal claw. I bring it in front of my face to examine the new appendage.
A small flame flickers to life above my palm. I don't question it when it turns back to flesh and
blood right before my eyes. I only start to feel alarmed when the heat of the flame starts to turn
the flesh of my palm red. Before I can quite register what is happening, it has already begun to
burn a hole through the center of my hand. The pain is unbearable, but I have no voice to scream.
I whip my gaze back to my father, to plead for help, but he's gone. Rourke is in his place, leering
down at me. He brings his right hand down to press the palm flat against my swollen belly.
“Strong...” he murmurs gleefully. “She is strong.”
A pair of hands close around mine, and the pain seems to ease. Estela is holding my hand, kneeling
beside me with Aleister at her shoulder. She seems to be examining my wound. Her expression is
stoically grim, but I can see fear in her eyes.
“Aleister. Look.”
Aleister's eyes widen. He can't hide his fear like she can. “...So it's true.”
Estela nods. “Just as the Endless warned us.”
Through Estela's tender grip, I can see that my hand has begun to bleed. It trickles from the front
and the back of my hand like stigmata, pooling between Estela's palms, but she doesn't seem to
notice.
“...Estela...” I croak weakly. “Aleister...” Aleister puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Don't worry, Taylor. We will protect you.”
Rourke has a knife in his left hand now. He holds out his right hand in front of him, raises the
blade, and takes aim. As he drives the blade through his hand, he doesn't flinch, but I feel the pain
as if his hand were mine, and I hear myself scream.
“Taylor!” Jake is beside me now, clutching my hand and desperately stroking my hair. His eyes are
wild with fear, shimmering with tears. “Stay with me, Princess. Please...please don't leave me...”
I want to tell him I'm here. I want to tell him I'm all right. But I can't. The searing pain from my
hand is spreading up my arm in waves, to my shoulder, flooding into my chest and my midsection.
The smell of blood hits my nose in a sickeningly thick cloud. Rourke smiles viciously, raising his
right hand to show me the dark hole that goes straight through.
“Do you remember, Andromeda, the truth of the Hydra?” He approaches me, and the pain
intestifies. “...You know that we will meet again.”
I hear myself screaming, but the pain is fading. So is my voice. I can't hear Jake's voice anymore, I
can't feel the pressure of his hand on mine. Oppressive heat surrounds me as I realize I am back at
Hartfeld as it was the day we stepped through the Lernaean Gate.
“Allie!” Diego's voice cracks like a whip through the lava-scorched landscape.
“...Right hand...?” Vaanu's voice comes through crackling static. “...Right hand...”
“Allie! Allie!” …

… “Allie?”

There's a hand on my shoulder. I feel my heart spasm with alarm. My breath catches in my
throat, my eyes flying open in a panic before I realize that it's Diego beside me. He pulls his
hand back,d showing his palms with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you.” His smile slips a little. “Are you okay? I came in to check on
you and you were kind of...talking in your sleep.”

“What was I saying?”

“Um...I don't know. Couldn't really make out individual words.”

“I was dreaming...” I trail off as I ease myself upright, frowning. “...I need to talk to Estela and
Aleister.”

Aleister
Naturally, Raj made sure we had a packed lunch for our flight back to Northbridge. Nothing
fancy, at least not by his standards, just grilled sandwiches and an assortment of hand-made
snacks to nibble on. But the effort is always appreciated. About two hours into the flight, after
our collective efforts to calm my fussy son have finally born fruit, we lay the tables in the cabin
and fetch ourselves drinks from the refridgerator. No one has said much in all this time, beyond
what is polite and prefunctory. I think we are all rather in our own heads at the moment. But I
have also been watching my sister, and what I see has me a bit concerned. Estela is not a
woman prone to tears, or indeed any outward displays of emotion, but on and off, I have
noticed her eyes glimmering. She has spent the better portion of these past two hours lying
curled up with her head in Quinn's lap, just letting her girlfriend stroke her hair, looking for all
the world like a forlorn puppy. Not something I am used to seeing from the San Trobidian rebel.
Now that we are sitting at our tables, she is clearly struggling to eat, ocassionally placing a bite
or two on her tongue, but very little has actually left the plate in front of her.

“Are you all right, Estela?” I finally can't help but ask.

Estela sighs, picking at a hangnail on her index finger. “Should I be? Considering my father just
died?”

“I don't think there is a 'should' in this situation,” Quinn says gently. “You feel how you feel. It's
okay.”

“I never cared about knowing who my father was. By the time I learned who he was, I hated
him more than anyone else living. ...A part of me thinks I ought to be celebrating...”

Murphy, who had been dozing on the couch, seems to pick up on the general atmosphere. He
rises and stretches before padding over to hop up on Estela's lap. She sighs, stroking his fur
gently. Beside me, Grace puts a hand on my shoulder.

“How about you, sweetie? How are you holding up?”

“Right now? I am...fine. I do not know if it has entirely sunk in yet. But perhaps it has. Either
way, the man is dead. Just a shell. And the world is better for it.”

“I would have expected your feelings to be more mixed than mine,” Estela remarks. I shrug.

“I was raised by the man...if you can call it that. The time was that I craved his affection. One
could even say that I loved him, in that dutiful way a child always loves their parents. ...But any
lingering love I had for him died back on the island. I won't say I am glad he is dead, but I am
not sorry, either.”

“...I'm not sorry, either. Not really. ...But I guess I am...sad. I feel that this whole situation is just
sad. New Year's Day, and my half-brother and I are going to identify the body of our father, who
died in prison.”

“Yeah,” Sean sighs. “I think 'sad' describes that pretty accurately.”

On the table beside me, my phone trills with an incoming call. I glance at it, frowning when I see
the name on the screen.

“It's Taylor.” I am immediately concerned that she may be trying to reach her husband. I look
around at my companions and I know that the same thought has occurred to them. I thumb on
the call. “Taylor? Are you all right?”

“Oh, Aleister. I wasn't actually expecting you to answer. I didn't think you'd have landed already.”

“We haven't. The ban on mobile phones during air travel has been rapidly dying out in the last
few years. ...Are you trying to reach the pilot?”

“No. You're actually the one I wanted to reach. You and Estela. There's something I need you to do
for me when you see the body.”

“...Hold on a moment. Let me put you on the speaker.” I tap the speaker and replace the phone
on the table. “All right, say that again?”

“I took a little nap just now, and I had a weird dream that I'm not really inclined to ignore. When
you see Rourke's body, I need you to check his right hand.”

“...Check it for what?” Estela asks.

“Honestly, I don't know. I'm hoping you will know when you see it.”

We are all silent for a moment. Michelle is the one who finally breaks the silence.

“It will be up to Aleister and Estela to actually check Rourke's right hand and recognize
whatever it is they're supposed to be looking for. But if my opinion means anything, I don't
think Taylor's instincts should ever be ignored when it comes to anything involving Rourke, La
Huerta, the Vaanti, or Prism energy.”

“I would go so far as to say that is an incomplete list,” I agree. “There is nothing to be lost by
looking at Father's right hand, and possibly there is something to be gained.”

I don't tell Taylor that her request has left me with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. Until
now, any doubts I had about my father's demise could have easily been dismissed as the denial
stage of grief. Or the mind's unwillingness to let go of wariness after the fight is over. But now
my doubts are growing. Now I am starting to wonder if my father is truly dead.

***

Grace, Quinn, Estela, and I part ways with Sean, Michelle, Jake, and Mike at the airport. Three
Rourke International cars are waiting to take us to our various destinations. Mike and Jake to a
hotel to rest up for the flight home in the morning, Sean and Michelle to their apartment, and
the rest of us to the morgue. Sean and Michelle agree to watch Reginald for us until we're
finished, for which I am grateful. He may be just shy of a year old and unlikely to remember any
of this, but it still feels wrong to bring him along to identify the body of his criminal
grandfather. Not that I imagine they would allow him in the room with the body anyway, but
my point stands.

At the Northbridge city morgue, Grace and Quinn are shown to a plain, but surprisingly
pleasant-looking waiting room while the morgue attendant leads me into the back with Estela
to the temperature-controlled area where the bodies are kept.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the attendant says solemnly. He is a young man, a little bit awkward-
looking, with rather large ears, glasses, a chin shadowed with stubble, and a narrow head
capped with sandy-brown fuzz. But his manner is pleasant and professional.

“I imagine you say that a lot,” Estela mutters, echoing my thoughts.

“It comes with the territory,” he concedes ruefully. “But it's always true.”

“We're not exactly...in mourning,” Estela answers flatly.

“We're here out of filial obligation,” I add. “I suspect you know enough of who our father is to
guess why we say that.”

“It's not my place to pass judgment on familial relationships. Just to make sure bodies get to the
right people. ...Speaking of which, whatever your feelings on your father, it might be shocking to
see his body.” His professional composure cracks just a little. “...In fact...we generally only ask
family members to look at photographs...I know you have asked to physically see his body,
but...” Estela and I exchange a glance, and the attendant trails off.

“It is necessary that we view his remains,” I say simply.

The attendant doesn't question any further. When we reach the coolers, he unlocks the correct
cabinet and draws out the shrouded corpse. He warns us about what we will see, what marks
his death by strangulation have left on him. When we both nod our understanding, he slowly
draws back the sheet.

I must admit, I have to close my eyes, just for a moment. I understand the clinical process by
which strangulation kills, and I have some prior understanding of how that process affects the
appearance of the victim. But to see my father's face so distorted and discolored... I glance at
my sister, who remains as solid and stoic as I have ever seen her.

“I would like to see his hands,” she declares. The attendant raises an eyebrow.

“His hands?”

“Yes. Show me his hands.”

“It is a custom from her homeland,” I explain when the attendant seems to hesitate. “Please be
respectful of it.”

Estela shoots me a glare behind the attendant's back. I shrug helplessly and she rolls her eyes,
muttering something in Spanish that sounds like an insult. Nevertheless, the attendant allows
her to examine our father's hands, on the condition that she wear gloves. Estela doesn't waste
time. She pulls on the vinyl exam gloves and removes our father's right hand from under the
sheet. I shift awkwardly as she looks it over, wondering if I should help her find whatever it is
we're supposed to be looking for. But then her eyes widen, and I realize she's found it. She
looks up at the attendant, her dark eyes narrow.

“This is not our father.”

Naturally, the attendant looks shocked by the assertion. I feel rather startled myself. I know it is
difficult to believe that our father could actually die, but that Estela should deny what is right in
front of her face...

“...Estela...what...?”

My sister pins me with her penetrating gaze. “The last time we saw our father alive, he had a
bandage on his right hand. He told us he had been stabbed in the palm with a pencil. Do you
remember?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“He told us that the mark left by the graphite would last years. Decades. The rest of his life.”

The truth is creeping over me as I slowly realize what she is getting at. “...It's true. A graphite
mark just under the skin can last decades at least.”

She lifts our father's right hand to show me the smooth, unmarked palm. “...Then where is it?”

Chapter 39: Intrigue, Danger, and Romance

Summary:
As news breaks of Rourke's supposed death, the Catalysts and the heroes of Northbridge are
left wondering where to go from here.

Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Grace

A weighty silence has descended over the living room of Sean and Michelle's apartment. It's
Sean who finally breaks it.

“...Then...he's still out there?”

“So it would seem,” my husband confirms wearily. As if sensing his father's distress, Reggie
abandons the toys he was exploring in the corner and crawls over to put his hands on Aleister's
knees and drag himself upright. Aleister smiles as he reaches down to lift Reggie onto his lap,
but it's forced. He sits our son facing forward so as not to let him see when the smile slips away
a moment later.

“But the authorities don't believe you?” Michelle presses. “Doesn't the institution have records
of the pencil incident? Unless their standards of care are far below regulation, Rourke would
have been treated, even for a minor injury like that, wouldn't he?”

“Yes,” Aleister confirms. “And he was. They have all the records. They also have dental records
and DNA reports, and even security footage that appears to confirm that Father hanged himself
in his room. Against all that, a single missing scar just doesn't seem to stand up. They admit it is
unlikely a scar like that would have just faded, but they also say it is not impossible, and that is
enough to confirm for them that Father is dead.”

“...But...you don't think there is any chance they're right?”

Aleister shrugs. “There is always a chance,” he admits.

“But it's not a very high one,” Estela counters flatly, her dark eyes narrow. “He is alive. I know
he is. And he's planning something. And if the authorities aren't going to help us track him
down to stop it, then it is up to us.”

“How are we supposed to do that?” I ask.

A mirthless smile crosses Estela's lips. “Did you forget who you're talking to? Or in fact, who
you are? We're the Catalysts. Foiling Everett Rourke's evil plans is what we do.”

“To be fair, is has been five-and-a-half years now since we had to worry about that.”

“It's been nearly as long since I was a part of the revolution in San Trobida,” Estela counters.
She stands up, and starts to pace “But for all that I am possibly a little rusty, I have not forgotten
everything. With any luck, Rourke may leave an electronic trail that Zahra can pick up on. Jake
will surely have some ideas, too. He knows a thing or two about being a man who doesn't want
to be found. And now we have the Northbridge supers on our side, too.”

“Might want to break this news to Jake gently,” Sean warns. “He's already on edge with Taylor
in her current condition.”
“I wasn't planning to just blurt it out over the phone,” Estela replies testily. “My point is, there
are things we can do. Steps we can take to either confirm that Rourke is actually out there and
planning something, or assure ourselves that he is well and truly dead.”

“And...if he is alive?” I prompt.

“We do whatever we must to stop him from doing whatever he plans to do. ...It isn't just Taylor
and her baby I'm worried about. Suppose he has plans for Reggie, too?”

I have to admit that a knot forms in my stomach when she says that. I see Aleister's arms
tighten subtly around our son.

“Why would he want anything to do with Reggie?” he asks, his voice slightly thin. “He doesn't
want anything to do with me, why would my son--”

“Because however he feels about you, Reggie is still his grandson. And you heard the way he
spoke about you and Grace together, too. What was it he said? 'The kind of match that empires
are built on'? I wouldn't be surprised if he is hoping Reggie will be the heir he's always
wanted.”

“You were the heir he always wanted,” Aleister grumbles. Then, apparently regretting his
words, he blushes and glances away. Estela stops pacing and smiles bitterly.

“In the end, I was nearly as much of a disappointment as you were. Maybe moreso since I never
even tried to appease him.”

There is another long, awkward silence. Finally, Quinn reaches out to take Estela's hand.

“Okay. So there are steps we can take. In the meantime though, at least on the surface, I believe
we should act as though we believe he is dead. Which...means the two of you will need to decide
how to dispose of the body.”

“Quinn's right,” Michelle agrees. “Whether that's actually Rourke in the morgue or not, those
are human remains that legally belong to the two of you.”

The atmosphere shifts abruptly as Estela and Aleister exchange a bemused glance.

“Heavens...” Aleister murmurs dazedly. “Do...do you think we ought to have a funeral...?”

Kenji
I spent New Year's Eve at the Grand with Tahira, Grayson, Eva, Dax, and Poppy. New Year's Day,
I slept in. But the next morning, I decide to surprise my mom by bringing her a bagel and a cup
of tea from her favorite coffee shop. I have to get up pretty early in order to surprise her, but I
manage it, arriving at her apartment just about when I expect she'll be getting up. In front of
her apartment door, I pull out my spare key and let myself in. I can hear the shower running
from the back bedroom bathroom as I step inside. I leave the bagel and tea on the kitchen table
and wander back to the bedroom, where the door is just slightly ajar. I slip inside and knock on
the door to the bathroom.

“Mom? It's Kenji!”

I hear a yelp from inside the bathroom. “God, Kenji! You startled me!”

“Sorry! I brought you breakfast!”

“You'd better have! As an apology for nearly making me slip in the shower!”

I laugh. “Love you, too, Mom! I'll be in the kitchen.”

“Love you, Kenji!”

I go back to the kitchen and find the coffee and the muffin I got for myself. It gets a little quiet
for my taste, so I wander into the living room and sit down on the couch to turn on the
television while I eat. I don't expect anything interesting to be on, but maybe there are some
cartoons on. It's not a cartoon that ends up catching my eye, though.

“...Everett Rourke Sr, founder and former CEO of Rourke International, who has spent the last five
years in an institution for the criminally insane for the kidnapping and attempted murder of
twelve young men and women, was found dead in his room yesterday morning of an apparent
suicide. His body was identified by his two children, Everett Aleister Rourke Jr. and Estela
Montoya, who are his only living relatives. Mr. Rourke was sixty-one years old...”

“Well, isn't that a sobering way to start the new year,” I hear my mother mutter behind me.
She's in her bathrobe, her wet hair secured on top of her head in a towel.

“'Sobering' is one word for it,” I concede. “...Can't say I'm very sorry he's gone, though.”

“No, I'm not either,” Mom admits. “I'm mostly sorry for his children.”

“From what I know, they didn't exactly like him very much.”

“Maybe not, but he was still their father. His death is bound to be hard on them in one way or
another.” She bends to kiss the top of my head. “Do you have plans today?”

“Not as such. Might go to the gym. I'll probably call Dad and say Happy New Year.”
“Give him my regards if you do. Though I actually spoke to him a couple days ago. He says he
and Satomi are planning some time off this summer so they can bring the girls over for a visit.”

“No way, really?” For a moment, excitement is enough to make me forget about what I just saw
on the news. I was only about five when my folks divorced. I would come to understand that it
was a mutual break-up, as nearly-painless as a divorce can ever be, and Mom and Dad have
always been friendly with each other. But when I was twelve, Dad moved back to Tokyo to be
with my aging grandmother. Since then, he's remarried and had two daughters. I'm fond of my
step-mother and my two half-sisters, but I don't get to see them nearly as much as I'd like. I'm
already eager to show off The Grand to them.

“That's the plan,” Mom confirms. “He warned me they don't have a date set in stone yet, but
knowing your father, we'll still have at least six month's worth of warning.”

“Knowing Dad, he'll have a date and an itinerary set by the time I call him. ...So what's your day
look like?”

Mom's face falls into a frown. “...Meeting with Silas Prescott and his lawyer.”

My excitement deflates, leaving anxiety behind. “Yeah? What for?”

“I don't know. Though if I did know, I probably couldn't tell you.”

“Right. That whole confidentiality thing, right?”

“That's right.”

I glance back at the television screen. The newscaster has moved on to other stories, but I can
still hear her brief on Rourke echoing in my memory. I stand up.

“Hey...I should probably leave you to get dressed.”

“I'd protest, but you're right. I do have to get ready. Thank you for breakfast.”

I collect my half-eaten muffin and my coffee and move to kiss my mother's cheek, mumbling
good-byes before I take off with my coat still draped over my arm. I've got a nagging feeling
about Rourke's death, and I think I need to talk to Tahira.

Silas Prescott
I hear of Everett's death through the news like everyone else. It is on every news channel. The
local paper has a piece on him featured prominently. Unlike most people, though, I know he is
not truly dead. I'm not sure how he pulled it off, but I know it was part of his plan. I am also
beginning to suspect that even my lawyer may be one of Everett's creatures. Four days ago,
after telling me for months that I should fight against conviction, her advice has abruptly
changed. And now we are preparing to meet with Meiko Katsaros while Everett's 'death' is still
news hot off the presses.

My lawyer arrives early, dressed smartly and looking ready to do battle. Her name is Brittany
Kempton, but to be honest, I have difficulty not calling her Marjorie. Though she is quite a bit
younger than Marjorie, she is just as prickly. I suppose that is a quality one wants in a lawyer.

I have also dressed professionally. Although I am unable to leave my home to receive a proper
haircut, I have made certain that my now shoulder-length hair has been neatly swept back and
my beard has been trimmed. I am unwilling to give the District Attorney any reason to believe I
am not coping with my captivity.

Ms. Kempton and I go over things before Meiko arrives, though we do not have much time to
practice before the doorbell chimes. The moment I answer the door is...admittedly awkward.
For a pregnant moment, we don't speak. Finally, Meiko clears her throat.

“Silas. Hello. ...I would say it is a pleasure, but...”

“But it isn't. I understand. Please, come inside.” I step aside and she accepts my offer, crossing
the threshold into my guilded prison. Silence returns as she stands in the foyer, casting a
critical eye over me, her lips wrinkled as if she's tasted something sour. Then her expression
softens subtly.

“How are you faring? Are your needs being met?”

“Considerate of you to ask.”

“It's not a kindness. You may be a criminal, but I wouldn't let you continue in any situation that
was truly inhumane. You're entitled to sufficient food, medical care, exercise...if your heat goes
out or a pipe bursts, you're entitled to get it fixed.”

“At the moment, my needs are met,” I assure her. “Would you care for anything? Coffee? Tea?
Water?”

“No, thank you. My son bought me tea this morning.”

“Such a thoughtful young man. I suppose then we should get right down to business. Ms.
Kempton is waiting for us in the living room.”

She follows me to where the lawyer has settled herself on the sofa and spread her paperwork
out over the coffee table. I take a seat beside Ms. Kempton, keeping a reasonable professional
distance between us, and gesture for Meiko to have a seat in the armchair set up for her.
Underneath the piles of legal paperwork peeks the folded edge of my morning newspaper, still
turned to the story on Everett's life and alleged death.

“I suppose you have heard of the death of Everett Rourke,” I remark as she settles herself.

“I have.” She pauses a moment. “The two of you had a...rocky history, if I recall.”

“We had a falling out many years ago, yes. But before that we were quite close friends.”

“I suppose it is appropriate to say that I am sorry for your loss, then.”

“Your sentiments are appreciated.” I chuckle mirthlessly. “But listen to me. I talk about getting
down to business, and I immediately bring that up...”

Meiko pauses for a moment, eyeing me critically. Then her expression settles into something I
can't quite read. “...It must have been a shock to wake up to this morning.”

“That it was.” There is a long stretch of silence, with Ms. Kempton looking back and forth
between us as if waiting for one of us to remember her presence. “I suppose I should let my
lawyer explain why I asked you here today.”

“I had been wondering,” Meiko confirms, and turns her gaze on the lawyer. Ms. Kempton clears
her throat.

“My client would like to see about a plea bargain.”

“I see. And what is he offering?”

“A guilty plea, information on the criminals known as Stonewall and the Man on Fire.”

Meiko frowns, folding her arms. “And what is he asking in return? People are dead because of
him.”

“He recognizes that. Which is why he is not asking for freedom. Only that he be permitted to
serve out his sentence under house arrest.”

“His sentence is likely to be life,” Meiko replies flatly.

“I am aware of that as well,” I assure her before the lawyer can answer for me. “I am aware that
I am turning my home into my prison. I expect by the end of my days, I will have come to hate
it. But I would sooner hate my own home than never see it again, if I have a choice.”

“I'm not sure I should give you one,” Meiko replies sharply. “As I said, people are dead because
of your greed and megalomania.”
I sigh. “You still think I was making a genuine grab for power. Of course. What else would you
think. I designed it to look that way.”

“What else would it be?”

“It doesn't really matter, does it? I failed either way. And until recently, I was prepared to fight
for my freedom.”

Meiko is an intelligent woman. She knows I am leading her to ask a particular question. I can
see in her eyes that she is debating whether she should take the bait. Her mouth twitches and
her shoulders slump subtly as she decides to take the risk.

“...What changed?”

“At first, I think, I was just tired. The weight of my failure, the strain this has put on my
relationship with my son... I was in denial at first, but then I started to feel broken. Defeated. I
agreed to change my plea because I thought perhaps there was a chance I could at least choose
my own prison. Then, this morning, I read that my old friend had died. I turned on the
television, and there was his picture on my screen. And something else was clarified for me.” I
meet her eyes. “...Do you know why I fell out with Everett Rourke?”

“The details were never made public, unlike nearly everything else about both of you,” she
replies. “I always assumed it had something to do with business.”

“That would make sense. We're the two industrial technology giants of the world, though in
many ways, Everett always outpaced me. It would make logical sense that we might have an
Edison/Tesla dynamic. But that wasn't it. ...Everett Rourke killed my wife.”

All successful attorneys need to have a decent poker face. To Meiko's credit, she doesn't flinch
at this revelation, but I read people well enough to pick up on the subtle signs of surprise.

“Did he?” she asks impassively.

“It was an accident,” I clarify. “That's what all my biographies and my page on Wikipedia will
tell you. Everett wasn't even anywhere near her when it happened. But make no mistake, it was
an accident of his making. And for that, I turned him out of my life. He had been like a brother
to me. But when he caused me to lose the most important person in the world, I disowned him.”

Meiko is still stoically taking this all in. But her hands, folded in her lap with their impeccable
manicure and softness carefully maintained by designer lotions, are unnaturally stiff. The
subtle extention of her fingers creates sharp peaks and valleys at her knuckles as her
contracted tendons push against the underlayers of her skin. I lean forward.

“...As you said, Meiko, people died the day I goaded Dragonness into a battle against me. That
was not my intention. But I know that I am far more culpable in their deaths than Everett ever
was in Helena's. I'm not saying I suddenly believe Everett was blameless. But there is a
difference an engineer whose hubris causes him to overlook a risk in his design because he
believes it to be small, and one who purposefully designs and creates a thing with inferior
materials for his own selfish reasons. I didn't go into that day with plans to kill anyone, but I
also took no extraordinary measures to ensure that no one died.” I meet Meiko's eyes and hold
them. “I am not looking for freedom anymore, Meiko. I deserve imprisonment. But if there is
any chance at all of it, I only ask that I be permitted to choose where.”

Meiko sits silent and motionless as stone. Beside me, Ms. Kempton takes off her glasses and sets
them on the coffee table, leaning back. The gesture feels like one of satisfaction. I wait just long
enough to be certain that my story has sunk in.

“Well, Meiko? Do we have a deal?”

Taylor

I guess I should be upset that Rourke has once again proven he isn't done with me. That there's
yet another danger lying in wait for me and my family, my beloved Catalysts, and there is
nothing for me to do but stay alert and wait for it to reveal itself. But I mostly feel tired. I'm
tired of staying alert. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of Rourke's shadow hanging over
everything about my new life. I'm pretty sure Diego and Jake pick up on this pretty quick. I'm
sure Varyyn knows. He never enters my thoughts without permission, but I know I can
generally always feel his surface emotions as long as I'm physically close enough.

After sitting with the news of Rourke's deception and disappearance for awhile, I come to the
conclusion that I have a choice: either I can let the fear and uncertainty consume me, or I can let
it go and live my life, concentrate on enjoying my time with my family until something comes
along that I can face. One option weakens me against my enemy. One strengthens me. I know
which one I need to choose. I relay this to my nuclear family over dinner a few days into the
new year.

“I definitely see where you're coming from, Princess,” Jake says, pushing his steamed broccoli
into his mashed potatoes with the back of his fork, “but you know I can't help bein' scared.”

“I'm not asking you not to be scared. I'm not asking anyone not to be scared, or not to think
about how we can stay ahead of Rourke. All I'm asking is that it not be allowed to run our lives.
I was given a second chance to be with all of you. To have a life with all of you. I can't let fear
take that chance away from me. ...Or from River. In a few months, she'll be here. She'll come in
her time, whether we're ready or not. I don't want the first part of our child's life to be defined
by fear, either.”

Jake sighs, putting down his fork and reaching over to take my hand. He brings it to his mouth
to press his lips against my knuckles.
“I don't want that, either,” he admits. “...I'll try to live normal as possible, Princess. I promise.”

“Um...on that note,” Diego says somewhat sheepishly, raising his hand as if he's in a classroom.
“There's something I've been wanting to bring up. I'm not sure if you guys are aware of what a
week from Friday is...?”

“...The twelfth of January?” Mike volunteers uncertainly.

“Well, yes. But in Elyys'tel, it's Niala'rei.” He takes Varyyn's hand. “...Our anniversary. And
yours, too, for that matter.”

I exchange a startled glance with Jake. “I...don't think I ever knew the calendar date for
Niala'rei,” I admit.

“I did,” Jake confesses. “But for the last five years, I spent it getting drunk alone. Guess I've been
so caught up in baby prep since so soon after I got you back that I didn't really think about the
anniversary.”

“I kinda had a feeling that was the case,” Diego says. “Normally, Varyyn and I do something
special at home together or we find someplace secluded at night. But...this year, thanks to Dax's
Christmas present, I wanted to celebrate by taking him out someplace special and public. I
thought maybe you two could come along? We had a double wedding. Now that we're all in one
place, why not have a double anniversary party? We could at least try it this year, see how it
works out.”

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

He grins. “Well, my first thought was Disneyland, but maybe that would be better saved for
when River is old enough to enjoy it. My second thought was something simple but fun, like
spending Saturday at Santa Monica Pier. It's winter, so there won't be any concerts or anything,
but we can ride the ferris wheel, and go to the arcade and the acquarium, have a couple nice
meals, do some shopping. If we go up on Friday, we could spend the night in a hotel.”

“I...could get behind that...” Jake says slowly, though his expression doesn't look very sure. Mike
lightly punches his shoulder.

“Why the hesitation, Grandpa? Not that I know anything about Santa Monica Pier, but it sounds
like a perfectly enjoyable way to spend your anniversary. You definitely deserve it, and God
knows your wife does, too.”

“Totally not disputing that. Just...feels kinda surreal to be thinking about my wedding
anniversary...”

“It's a little surreal for me, too,” I agree, squeezing his hand. “Probably even moreso for you. But
I think it's a good idea. We don't have to think of it as our wedding anniversary if that's too
much to think about right now. It could just be us taking a well-deserved break from baby-
prep.”

Jake finally cracks a smile. “Ahh, what the hell. I'm in.”

With that decision made, the mood at the dinner table shifts to something much calmer and
happier. Conversation is light and animated. Jake and Mike volunteer to clean up the kitchen,
and Diego eagerly suggests he and I set up in the den and watch a movie. Apparently, he's been
compiling a list of the must-see movies from the five years I missed.

“It's gonna take months to get through them all, but there's no rush. We can grab one here and
there whenever we both have time in the evening.”

“Sounds like a plan. What's first on the list?”

“Tender Nothings,” Diego answers, grinning. “You'll love this one. Matt Rodriguez, Victoria
Fontaine...plus, it has the craziest behind-the-scenes story.”

“What about the actual story?”

“No spoilers, it's terrific. One of Varyyn's favorites.”

I raise an eyebrow at Varyyn, who smiles placidly, shrugging. “It stirs my heart and makes me
feel grateful for what I have. Particularly, a partner who is loving and honest.”

“I feel like that tells me something about the story already. Okay, Diego, I'm in. Anyone want to
join us?”

“I'll pass,” Jake says. “I'll let you two have your buddy-bonding time.”

“In that case, Grandpa, how about we have our own buddy-bonding time? I could take you out
to a bar, buy you a couple rounds, shoot some pool?”

“It's a thought. ...Though we've still got some beers left over from New Year's in the fridge. Not
to mention a game room right here, complete with a pool table.”

“Yes, but you see the point is to actually get out of the house.”

Jake hesitates, slipping me a sidelong glance. There's worry clouding his sky-blue eyes. I take
his hand and smile gently.

“Go on, Top Gun. Take a leap of faith and assume I'll be fine if you leave my side for a few
hours.” I lean over to kiss his cheek, and stage-whisper, “Besides, I think Mike might be looking
for a wingman.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “Thanks for pointing that out, Goldilocks.”

“I got your back, Darwin,” I reply, winking.

“Well, okay,” Jake agrees. “But only because if I say no, you'll probably go alone and get yourself
in trouble.”

“Your confidence in me is touching.”

“Hey, Varyyn, maybe you could tag along?” Diego suggests. “...If you guys don't mind, that is?”

Varyyn raises an eyebrow at his husband. “Really? You would want me to go to a bar without
you?”

I can't help but notice the slight blush in Diego's cheeks, or the barely perceptible stammer
when he answers, “H-hey, it's not like I don't trust you. And I just thought...maybe you'd like a
change of scene...”

Varyyn frowns. “...My love, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Of course not! I love you! It's just...I...” He trails off as the barest trace of a mischievous smile
appears on Varyyn's lips. “...You're teasing me, aren't you.”

Varyyn laughs, drawing Diego close to him and kissing his forehead. “Yes, I am. Sorry, my
darling, but you make it easy sometimes. I suspect you're interested in spending the evening
with Taylor, and I fully understand that. I'll keep out of your hair.” He looks over at Jake and
Mike. “If I would not be intruding on someone else's evening, I would love to join you both.
Otherwise, I will find another way to occupy myself.”

“I'm for it,” Mike says, shrugging. “Another unavailable, married man talking me up has gotta
increase the odds, right?”

“Unlikely,” Jake quips. “But let's not turn down good help.”

Within about half an hour, Varyyn, Jake, and Mike are heading out to enjoy the Laguna Beach
night life. Meanwhile, Diego and I set up in the living room with popcorn and lemonade. Just
before he starts the movie, Diego pauses, hesitating.

“So...I have a confession to make, Allie...”

“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?”

He grins a little. “Nothing to be worried about. ...I was actually trying to get rid of Varyyn for a
few hours. I want you to help me with something I'm planning.”
Caleb

So. Everett Rourke is dead. That's a goddamn wrench in my plans. I run out of cigs late Saturday
afternoon and decide to visit what is quickly becoming my favorite convenience store. It's a bit
of a hike from where I'm currently set up—in biting cold and encroaching darkness to boot—
but I feel like the walk might help me get my head on straight. I gotta regroup. Come up with
something else to get Tahira and her team to trust me. I hate admitting it, but I really can't do
shit without them in this situation. I guess I could just bail and let them handle it. But...I don't
want to. Fuck me, I'm going soft.

“Caleb? Is that you?”

The voice is high and childish, and it startles me. I turn around to find none other than Ysabel
scooting down the sidewalk toward me, looking like a colorful marshmallow in her oversized
puffy winter coat. She skids to a stop beside me, grinning. I raise an eyebrow at her.

“What're you doing way out here by yourself?”

“I was at the movies with my friend. But Dylan's almost done with work, so I decided to meet
him here to walk home with him.”

“This isn't the number one best neighborhood in Northbridge, kiddo. You shouldn't be out here
alone.”

She gives me a smile that can only be described as cheeky. “Well, I'm not alone now, am I?” I roll
my eyes.

“Don't get cute, you little marshmallow. You're lucky I'm heading in the same direction.”

I resume walking. I'm not sure why I bother, but I slow my pace so she can keep up with me. I
guess I have to admit I kinda have a soft spot for kids who've been screwed over. Plus this one
is kinda hard not to like a little. I shove my hands in my pockets while I walk, though. I'm not
really ready to offer her a hand to hold. ...Besides, she's old enough to cross the street by
herself. Just not old enough or big enough to defend herself from sickos who'd see a preteen
girl out by herself as a target.

“Are you going to buy cigarettes at Dylan's store?” she asks.

“First of all, it ain't Dylan's store. But yeah. I'm out of my smokes. Plus I want a burrito. They got
really good burritos.”

Ysabel makes a face. “I don't like the burritos. They upset my stomach.”
“That's probably the beans. Beans make you fart, you know.”

Ysabel rolls her eyes. “Yes, I know. I'm eleven.” She sighs. “Aren't you too old to think farts are
funny?”

I snort. “You're never too old to think farts are funny.”

“But why are they funny? Because they make a noise? Because they come out your butt?
Because they're stinky?”

“All of the above.”

“I just don't get it,” she sighs. She looks so world-weary that I can't help laughing.

“That's 'cause you're already an old lady.” I nudge her shoulder with my elbow, just hard
enough to make her step forward a little.

“I'm younger than you,” she replies haughtily.

“Yeah, in body you are. But you've got one of those mature souls that's already got wrinkl...” I
trail off as we round the corner just outside the store, stopping in my tracks before I've even
realized I've done it. Reflexively, I reach out and grasp Ysabel's shoulder, stopping her from
proceeding.

Gigi is leaning against the convenience store's brick facade, a burning cigarette fixed between
the first two fingers of her right hand. She looks every inch the indomitable biker chick, and the
guy she's with probably looks to the rest of the world like her hardened criminal boyfriend. But
I know who he actually is. He's not showing off his power right now, but I don't need him to
have granite skin to recognize Stonewall.

“Caleb?” Ysabel sounds suitably concerned. “What's wrong?”

Her voice alerts my past and current bosses to my presence. Gigi grins wolfishly at me, licking
her teeth like she's imagining how I'll taste. I squeeze Ysa's shoulder before releasing her and
giving her a light push towards the store's entrance.

“Go inside. Find your cousin.” My tone doesn't leave room for argument, and she does as I tell
her. I shove my hands back in my pocket and approach the waiting pair of predators, fixing my
face in an easy grin.

“Well, well, well,” I drawl. “What a small world. I didn't know you guys knew each other.”

“Real funny, New Guy,” Stonewall growls. “The lady tells me it was your tip that told her where
to find me.”
Ohhhh, shit. I've been at this life long enough to know immediately that I'm in trouble—and to
be struck by a strong sense of injustice, because there is no way it's my fault. I never told Gigi
shit about Stonewall. But I also know better than to immediately deny it. Gotta play this
smooth. I shrug, smiling placidly.

“I don't usually see you this deep in the city, G. What's the occasion?”

“I've heard tell Everett Rourke's dead.”

“Yeah. I heard that, too.” I decide to take a calculated risk. “...Am I in trouble for that?”

Gigi laughs. “You can't be blamed for a lunatic offing himself, can you?”

“I didn't tell him to do it.”

“Didn't think so. Still, I think it's time we take our attention off of the Island's Heart anyway. It's
likely gone, just like he said. We should focus on what we do have, which is the Prism Crystal.”

“Yeah? I thought you said the Prism Crystal was junk next to the Island's Heart.”

“It is. All other things being equal, if you were given a choice between a flip phone and a state-
of-the-art smartphone with all the bells and whistles, the choice is obvious. But you'd also still
take the flip phone over a telegraph machine.”

“I...am not really following the metaphor.”

“The metaphor isn't the point. The point is that we're going to get our hands on the Prism
Crystal.”

I can't keep up the poker face. I feel my placid smile dropping off my face and crashing at my
feet. I look between Gigi and Stonewall.

“...Are you serious...?”

“It can be done. Your friend here has broken into Prescott Industries before, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. I was there. I'm not doubting that it can be done. It won't be easy, though.”

Gigi reaches out to pat my cheek. I feel the tips of her candy apple-colored nails gently grazing
my skin.

“Nothing fun is ever easy, sweetie,” she purrs.

“What do you even expect to do with it? You don't know anything about how it works...”
“I know it turned you boys into freaks. Albeit powerful freaks. Seems like a fair place to start,
getting me in on that action.”

“It might not work on you. It don't work on everyone.”

“And it might work perfectly on me.” She moves her hand with the speed of a striking snake,
grasping my jaw between her thumb and fingers and squeezing hard. Her fingernails press
uncomfortably into my flesh, and saliva pools behind my lips. “Why shouldn't I have the chance
to try?”

There's really no safe answer to that question. I mumble something vaguely concillatory and
she lets me go, patting my cheek a little harder this time.

“Your job now,” she continues, “is to wait for my instructions. I will tell you how you can be of
use when I know. In the meantime, lay low. Is that clear.”

I don't meet her eyes as I rub my jaw. “...Yeah. Yeah, I hear you.”

“Good boy.” Gigi cocks her head, grinning wickedly. “By the way, who was that little friend of
yours? The one you were walking with?”

My eyes snap to her face, and I feel them go narrow. “No one you need to be concerned about,” I
growl. There's a warning note in my voice. Gigi thinks she has me under her control for the
most part, and for the most part, she's right. But we're both also aware that I could kill her if I
had a mind to. All that stops me is knowing her loyal child army would find a way to end me,
and the others would be left without protection. But if she crosses a line, I might pull that
trigger. And Gigi doesn't know exactly where that line is. My one advantage is to keep her
guessing.

Gigi eyes me critically, and I can see her debating whether to push it. But finally she shrugs.

“Whatever. She looks like the weak, fluffy type anyway.” She takes a final long drag on her
cigarette and breathes the smoke into my eyes, chuckling when I wince. She drops the butt on
the sidewalk and grinds it under the heel of her boot. “See you around, Caleb. Don't get into
trouble in the meantime.”

They both depart, going their separate ways. For a moment, I stand frozen, reluctant to move
until I'm sure they're gone. But before that happens, I find myself spun roughly around by my
shoulder and pushed against the store's brick facade. A metallic forearm presses against my
windpipe as I stare into a pair of furious bronze eyes.

“You wanna tell me what the hell that was?!” Talos snarls.

“What the hell what was?!” I snap back, my voice strained by the lack of air he's allowing me.
“Are you talking about that ambush by Stonewall and Gigi?”
“It didn't look like much of an ambush to me. In fact, it sounded a lot like you've been feeding
them information!”

“I haven't fed them shit! Listen...” I lower my voice, nodding over his shoulder. “You think we
could maybe not do this in front of the kids?”

Talos turns to look and sees Dylan standing behind us with his arm around Ysabel's shoulders.
They both look confused and a little worried. Talos slowly releases me, stepping back just far
enough that he's not bearing down on me anymore, but still close enough to grab me if I tried to
take off. I adjust my clothes, nodding at the kids.

“You two get on home, okay? Talos and I have grown-up stuff to discuss.”

Dylan and Ysabel exchange a look. Finally, Dylan sighs, steering his cousin away from us. “Just
don't kill each other,” he mutters. “I don't want my shift tomorrow to be cancelled because the
store's become a crime scene.”

I look back at Talos as the pair head down the sidewalk and turn a corner. “Think we can avoid
costing the kid his shift tomorrow?”

“What do you really care? I would have thought legitimate employment would offend your
anarchist sensibilities.”

I shrug. “Yeah, sure. But have you tasted the burritos at this place? I guess if I'm dead I won't
really care about burritos. But I'm betting you care a lot more about that kid keeping his shift.”

Talos folds his arms, his bronze face twisting into a deep scowl. “You don't want me to kill you,
you'd better start explaining what was going on back there.”

“What's to explain? Gigi and Stonewall are plotting to steal the Prism Crystal. How they ended
up in contact with each other, I don't know. I didn't tell Gigi shit. I didn't even know where
Stonewall was. The good news is, you know they're going to make an attempt to steal it, so you
can warn Grayson and come up with a plan to protect it, yeah?”

Talos' mouth twitches as he processes what I'm saying. I feel my heart knocking anxiously
against my ribs. I don't think for a second this is gonna be enough to make Talos totally trust
me, but it's at least gotta win me a couple points, right?

“How do I know you're not playing both sides here? I overheard everything. I knew what they
were planning before talking to you, and I could've warned Grayson without ever talking to
you. You could be playing me by suggesting it, and the minute I'm gone, you'll find one of those
two and warn them so they set a trap for us.”

“So don't include me in the planning process. I won't know what you're planning to do, and I
won't be able to tell the would-be thieves. ...And if you could have warned Grayson without
ever talking to me, why jump me just now? If you think I'm planning to double-cross you, you
could have kept your advantage by not letting me know you were here.”

Talos' face registers shock, which is actually kind of hilarious in bronze. I smirk as the full
implication of my question sinks in and he scowls again.

“You know what I'll do to you if Tahira ends up getting hurt, don't you?”

“Whatever it is, it's not gonna be enough to get you into her supersuit.”

“And winning my trust and gaining a place on the team isn't going to get you in there, either,”
he retorts. “But if that's the whole reason you're doing this, you're going to fail anyway.”

It's my turn to scowl. I'm speechless a little too long, and Talos steps back, folding his arms with
a self-satisfied smile.

“Don't worry. I don't actually believe you're doing this because you've got a thing for Tahira. I
don't know why you're actually doing it, but I doubt Tahira is your type.” His smug expression
shifts back to a scowl. “Tahira is my friend and my teammate. I'm looking out for her because
it's what friends do. Whether or not she actually needs my protection she has it. And anyone
who hurts her will quickly learn exactly what that means.”

I sneer, feeling my hands curl into fists at my side. “If you actually care about her, then stop
threatening me and warn her that there's a fucking plot afoot to steal the Prism Crystal.” I turn
on my heel, marching into the store. “I'm going to get my smokes.”

Taylor

“Will you look at that!” As Jake steers my car into a graceful merge onto the highway, I gaze
appreciatively down at the rectangle of thin plastic in my hand. A smiling image of Varyyn in his
holographic disguise gazes back at me. “A genuine fake ID.”
“It's not a fake ID,” Diego protests indignantly. “That's a completely legitimate California state
identification card! We got it at the DMV and everything!”
“Yeah, you just gave them a fake birth certificate and a fake social security number. Not to
mention a fake surname, Mister Vaanti.” I grin as I pass the ID card back to Varyyn through the
gap between the front seats. Jake glances at the rearview mirror and the two men in the
backseat.
“Did Zahra say where she got that social?”
“I didn't actually ask,” Diego admits. “I did make her promise not to use one from a living
person. But I figure it's best I don't actually know. ...Zahra did suggest that we could use the
birth certificate to apply for a legit social, but...it all seemed like it would take too long that
way.”
Diego meets my eyes and we exchange a meaningful glance. He has a very good reason for not
wanting to wait.
“Well, for my part, I trust Varyyn not to misuse the social of someone who isn't using theirs
anymore. And I trust Zahra to cover everyone's tracks.” I manuever myself in my seat, fussing
with my seatbelt.
“You all right?” Jake asks.
“Fine. My seatbelt just started riding up a little when I reached back.” I manage to get the lap
belt settled under my belly and sit back with a sigh. “God, I feel like I'm getting bigger by the
day. I can't believe how long I still have left.”
As I cradle my belly, Jake takes one hand off the wheel just long enough to place it over mine
and squeeze lightly.
“It's gonna fly by,” he murmurs. I glance over and see him smiling dreamily even as he watches
the road. “We're gonna wonder where all the time went.” He removes his hand and replaces it
on the wheel.
“I'm glad you talked us into this, Diego. Once the baby is born it will be so much harder to find
time for ourselves. It'll be nice to have a romantic weekend while we still can.”
“I'm glad I talked you into this, too. But you know that you'll have plenty of help with River, too.
When you two need a break from the baby, you'll only have to say the word and we'll work
something out.”
“Of course. Because you're going to be the best godfather my kid could ask for.”
“Aww, Allie. You're gonna make me blush.”
Conversation turns to baby-talk for awhile. Beginning with our collective excitement over
River's impending arrival, then I confess what I realize are completely natural fears about the
process of giving birth and the potential for complications. The men around me are confident,
though. I'm strong, they tell me. Young and healthy, and my whole pregnancy has been
progressing normally so far. There is plenty of reason to be optimistic. Besides, it's 2024, and
we'll have all the modern advantages available to us. Everything will be fine, and once my
daughter is born, I won't be the only lady in the house anymore.
Talk drifts slowly toward Sean and Michelle's wedding. Once they settled on California, of
course we offered the beach house for the reception. With Sean's football star salary, it isn't like
they are short of cash, but there's no reason to spend more than they have to. Besides, they
have two weeks off, and most of it is going to be spent on their honeymoon. I know Sean would
rather spend his money spoiling Michelle with gifts than on the wedding itself if he can help it.
And since he has friends with a beach house and a friend who is willing to cater, he'll have
plenty to spare.
They're planning to spend the first part of their honeymoon in the Caribbean, with at least a
few days on La Huerta. It was a decision that surprised me a little, considering that they have
been to the island every summer for the last few years, but as they explained, it is an important
part of their history together. Besides, they've also booked a tour of Japan for the last week.
Jake and Mike were planning to fly them to Santo Domingo and ferry them out to La Huerta on
a yacht, then pick them up a few days later. Jake is nervous about leaving me so close to my due
date, but as it stands, I'm encouraging him to go ahead. Barring any complications between
now and then, I'll still have a month left and he'll only be gone for a few days. Besides, it isn't as
if Sean and Michelle wouldn't understand if we had to get someone to fill in for him if it comes
to that. There's a reason Quinn is the back-up Maid of Honor.
“I'm kinda looking forward to this, honestly,” Jake admits. “I missed Grace and Aleister's
wedding, and I'm sorry for it now?”
“...You did?”
He risks glancing at me long enough to give me a sad smile before he looks at the road again.
“...It came at a bad time for me. I...didn't really trust myself to handle it well. It was selfish of me,
really.”
Diego reaches up to squeeze his shoulder briefly. “No one blamed you, Jake.”
“Yeah, I know. And I really don't know if I could've handled watching it all unfold when I was
hurting like I was. But...I missed seeing two of my friends get married. And I regret that.”
I reach over to stroke his arm. “This time, we'll be able to be there together.”
“Yeah...yeah, we will.”
He smiles as he flips the turn signal to the right and exits the highway. As we approach our
destination, I lower my sun visor and pretend to be checking my makeup. In fact, I am watching
Varyyn's face as it slowly dawns on him that we're heading toward an airport. A wrinkle of
confusion appears in the skin of his forehead, deepening as Jake pulls into the valet parking
lane and puts the car in park.
“Okay, everybody out,” he says cheerfully, popping the trunk. “Grab your bags.”
We climb out of the car and move to collect our meager luggage from the trunk while Jake deals
with the valet.
“Is...Santa Monica further than I thought it was?” Varyyn asks uncertainly. “I didn't think we had
to fly there.”
As the valet climbs into the driver's seat and we step up onto the curb with bags in hand, Diego
winds his free arm around Varyyn's waist.
“We don't. We'll spend Sunday at the pier, but tonight and tomorrow, I arranged for something
else.”
“Oh? What might that be?”
“Well...how much have you picked up about Las Vegas?”
“You mean 'Sin City'?” Varyyn replies with a wry smile. “Where people go to gamble and
generally behave foolishly?”
“And have a really good time doing so,” Jake points out. I elbow him lightly, shushing him.
“Vegas is also kind of the wedding capital of the world,” Diego remarks. “Because Nevada
marriage licenses are really easy to get.”
Varyyn seems to sense the direction the conversation is headed, but I don't think the penny has
quite dropped yet. He looks bemusedly over at me and Jake. Diego sets his bag down and turns
to take both of Varyyn's hands in his own, capturing his lover's attention again.
“Varyyn, we've been fasted partners for six years now. You are my life, my love, and the other
half of my soul. Whatever else happens, I have faith that we will be together until death parts
us. And since we were handfasted, we've decided to make our home in California, where I was
born and raised.”
“D-Diego...are you...?”
I grab Jake's hand, grinning like an idiot as Diego gets down on one knee and pulls a velvet box
out of his pocket.
“I've got everything arranged for us. All I need is for you to say yes. So...” he opens the box,
revealing the elegant silver ring I helped him pick out only a couple nights ago, “...Varyyn, love
and light of my life, will you do me the honor of wearing my ring and becoming my lawfully
wedded husband?”