Everything changed then and it wasn't just Spencer's life, either.
It was like you could wake up, just a regular morning... or so you think. You get your coffee. You grab that newspaper. You eat your toast or cereal or whatever. And you think that the world outside your front door is still as it was. But then you step out there and realize nothing is the same.
Spencer would replay the bits and pieces of that conversation between Ashley and the other girl as the reports on television became more frantic, more confused. A mall in L.A. is practically demolished and, surprisingly, it looks like some pissed-off guy just put his fist down upon it. And that is not a joke.
A really pissed-off guy did just that. People got hurt. People flipped out. Footage was everywhere as this guy rampaged, turning buildings to dust like Spencer might crush an ant - easily.
When the late-night news came on and showed two girls fighting the guy (whom the media decided to dub 'The Crusher'), Spencer's breath caught in her throat and threatened to suffocate her.
Because, in her own way, those moments... from the beach shattering around her to being up in the sky to being held insanely close by a girl who can fly... Spencer sort of tried to lock them away.
Lock them away and almost pretend that it didn't happen.
And, really, what that meant was that Spencer couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. About Ashley Davies.
Ashley Davies, who was being thrown across a parking lot as cameras rolled tape endlessly.
Ashley Davies, who got up - not a limp, not a cut - and rushed faster than can be seen by the naked eye. All anyone could see was The Crusher pitch backwards, hitting a wall and being buried under brick.
Ashley Davies, a girl who can fly and who can beat up super-men and who can get up from any fall, any hit...
The other girl walked over then, calm and collected - or so it seemed as Spencer watched, transfixed.
And that girl reached down, picking up The Crusher - actually picking him up, holding him in the air like it was nothing - and the cameras zoomed in.
Closer and closer, until you could almost hear the words coming from the girl's mouth, every reporter silent and waiting... just waiting.
And Spencer waited, too. Her whole family was there, waiting.
Probably the whole damn world was waiting, wondering if what they were watching was actually going on.
The Crusher struggled and twisted and the girl seemed to grip him tighter, fingers around his neck.
And Spencer watched as Ashley lingered back, arms crossed and head tilted downward.
All the cameras didn't focus on her, but on the other girl as The Crusher was dropped and then punched so hard that you could see his head snap painfully to the left.
And then it dropped, listless and lifeless.
Spencer saw all of this, but she was really staring at Ashley.
Ashley Davies, who slowly reached out and pulled the other girl away and pushed off lightly on one foot, carrying them away and out of sight.
"What the fuck was that?" Glen exclaimed.
"Glen. Language." Their mother chastised.
And Spencer got up. And she walked upstairs to her bedroom. And she laid down for the night, still dressed and on top of the comforter.
And she ran the images through her head, over and over, idly wondering if this was really just some prolonged and strange dream. Not a reality at all, but a figment within her head.
But, of course, it wasn't a dream.
Not by a long shot.
/ / /
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Spencer's face scrunched up, annoyed. And she turned over, trying to burrow under a blanket. But there wasn't one and she angrily forced her eyes open.
She was on top of her bed. She was clothed.
She blinked, trying to recall why she was sleeping in the outfit she wore to school.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
She looked at her clock, which was digital, and wondered why it suddenly decided to make noises like an old-fashioned clock.
It was three in the morning.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
And Spencer's brow furrowed sleepily as she tried to figure the sound out, standing up on tired legs and following the 'ticking' to the window.
To the window with someone outside of it.
To the window with someone outside of it - right outside of it, even though it is a second-story window. And there is no roof. There is no trellis to scale.
Just a whole bunch of air.
Except... not that night. Outside of Spencer's window on that night is Ashley Davies.
"Uh... what are you...?"
"Doing here?"
"Yes."
"Just wanted to say hello."
"Hello?"
"Hi."
"No, I mean... that's what you are here for? At three in the morning? To say hello?"
"Oh. Well, yea. And to say that you don't have to keep quiet anymore. There was an incident today and my secret isn't much of a secret anymore."
"That was some, uh, incident..."
"Saw that did you?"
"...Who are you?"
"Told you, I'm Ashley Davies."
"No, I mean seriously... who are you? Is it like, I don't know, X-Men or something?"
Ashley's laugh cascaded into the night and Spencer ignored how good it sounded. Because it did, you know? It sounded just like a laugh should - genuine, warm, slightly affectionate.
"Nah. Truth is, Spencer Carlin... I'm Batman."
And Ashley's grin was so wide, so full of snark, that Spencer found her eyes rolling in amused irritation.
More amused than irritated, really.
"Well...uh, 'Batman', you've said hello... so, what now?"
"Oh, you know, whatever... Wanna go for a spin in the Batmobile?"
"...Do you really have one?"
Ashley laughed again and beckoned Spencer closer, palm up and waiting.
Just waiting as Spencer took a deep breath. Just waiting as Spencer glanced at her bedroom door, thinking of the parents down the hall and the brothers fast asleep.
This is crazy, that is what the voice says. You've seen what she is capable of, the voice reminds. Don't do this, the voice states.
And Spencer shoved it all away, sliding her hand into Ashley's.
Because it felt right. Because it felt good. Because the delicate touch of their hands coming together was better than any other moment Spencer could recall.
"Where would you like to go?" Ashley whispered and their eyes met.
"Anywhere..." Spencer hushed out.
"I love anywhere." Ashley softly replied, hands firm upon Spencer's back, and she set them to soaring.
/ / /
It made some kind of crazy sense, back then, back when they first met.
That's what love can do to you - it will make the ridiculous seem perfectly fine and the dangerous seem perfectly safe.
And things were dangerous back then. Incredibly so. And, still, Spencer didn't care. Not really. Because she was in love - head over heels in love with that girl who was master of the skies.
Once she got Ashley to tell her everything - how a father built them, Ashley and her sister Kyla, from splices of DNA and genetically-enhanced hormones and some kind of technology that no one had ever heard of before; how Ashley ran away one day, at the age of seven, and as she ran faster her feet lost touch with the ground - and she didn't tell a single soul for years; how Kyla, upset over some affront, smacked Ashley's face and the girl barreled through a wall...
...Once Spencer knew it all - how the sisters laid low and pretended to be 'normal', going to school and going on dates... but never fully fitting in, always nervous about when an ability would pop up at the wrong moment and then their lives would be fodder for the entire universe; how their father had warned them of a time when they would have to step up and be more than girls, more than daughters... they would have to be heroes, that's what they were made for... that's why they were created...
...Once Spencer knew the facts, knew that Ashley's life would forever be spent in service to the whole of the world, knew that - with every day, every hour, every minute - someone would be trying to harm the one she so adores... Spencer should have walked away.
That voice said to run. That voice said to save herself the agony to come. That voice said so much and Spencer listened so little.
Because she was in love.
And love is the most dangerous thing of all.
/ / /
TBC