Frostbite

Summary: Winter raged around Taylor, who was sealed in her locker at freezing temperatures. The cold doesn't bother her anyway.

2.3 Icicle

Dad washed his hands in the sink as he finished washing the cup he'd just used for coffee. "I still don't know, Taylor... Running in the mornings? I'd feel a bit safer if you went to a gym honestly."

I rolled my eyes at him. I know he's concerned, but seriously. There's nothing unpowered thugs can do against me and the ABB only has two known Capes, both of which only come around for really big shitfests. Even if the Empire invaded ABB territory, with my skin color and theme, they'd more likely try to recruit me and might even just leave me alone if I say I just want to deal with the street level crime that other capes don't really care about. The fact that I'm working mostly on the docks and thus most of my 'arrests' have been of people of ethnic 'minorities' (at this point, I'm beginning to suspect Asians outnumber all other races combined in Brockton Bay, at least going by how much the ABB outmanned the Empire and the Merchants) would only help.

Admittedly I'd feel like shit afterwards, and would probably need a dozen or so showers to shake the nazi slime off of me, but I'd be safe from them, mostly.

"Dad, I'm going to run with a guy who's a bit taller than me, twice as broad on the shoulders and built like a brick house, I don't go to a gym because I've got a personal trainer with me, pretty much," I explained, leaning back on the chair I was seated on and sighing as I watched dad put everything back into place.

"That's part of what I'm worried about. You don't really know this guy," he insisted.

"Well, I know enough to know I'm not in danger from him," I said.

Mostly because unless he pulls powers out of his ass that can go through my armor, he literally can't do crap to me, and I've also been working on getting my armor out faster.

"Is he gay?" dad asked, frowning a bit.

"Is there a problem with that?" I asked, challengingly.

I don't know, honestly. I hope not. That'd be a crime against mankind. Like Legend being gay. Thousands of teenaged girls screamed in agony the day it became known.

"No, I- er, I mean-" he shook his head, "stop changing the subject," he said with a frown on his face.

"Well, dad, I really need to know," I said, "because my response might depend on that," I added. It kind of did and kind of didn't.

I am not lying to dad. Regardless of what he answers I will not answer his question, I will just deflect it again. I won't lie to him, but I also will not tell him the truth, because it would entail revealing my crime fighting shenanigans to him, and somehow I doubt he'll have as much of a problem with me running with a gay friend I just met even if he's homophobic than he would have if I was secretly punking out drug dealers at night.

"Okay, okay," he said, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Taylor, you know that if you have problems, you can just talk to me, okay?"

"I know," I said, "but why do you bring that up?"

"If what you're looking for is thugs to do something... well, I probably shouldn't say this as your father, but you know everyone at the Union is more than fond of you," he said, "and everyone owes everyone else a favor or two, you know how it goes..."

"Dad... are you seriously offering me to hire the dockworkers as a band of thugs to enact bloody revenge on my tormentors?" I asked, blinking widely.

"I... did not say that," he said, slowly.

"Are you secretly a criminal mastermind, dad?" I asked, probably looking way more sure than I sounded. I could control my face very well.

He smiled. "Mastermind? No, kiddo, that's what I've got you for. You've got the brains in the family," he said, chuckling. "But you know, the dockworkers are restless, and some have contacts..."

Jesus Christ. Dad might actually be a potential gangster. "Well, dad, I've actually been thinking about how to get back to the last one of my tormentors still at school. You know the whole mess with Sophia Hess?"

He nodded. "Haven't heard from the cops recently, but I guess the wheels of justice are still grinding. Slowly, but they're moving, so that's good," he explained, rubbing his chin. "Why?"

"Well, that wasn't really planned, it was mostly a spur of the moment thing that went way better than I expected. Honestly, the most I expected was maybe her getting a stern talking to from Blackwell before things began to swing in my favor," I admitted. "But this time, I've got a plan I'm working on. I've been distracted a bit recently, but... I know how to deal with my last tormentor, probably permanently."

"You're not thinking anything criminal, are you?" he asked. "I know that you're angry, kiddo, but violence is not the answer."

"I know that better than anyone - provoking others into violence is my schtick, dad," I said, rolling my eyes. "No, I've got a better idea. In fact, what I'm doing? You could see it as probably the best thing anyone has done for this person in a very long time."

"That could be interpreted as teaching a lesson," Dad said, "and I know what that can possibly entail."

"No, no violence," I said. "Just very stern talking tos," I said, smiling as I imagined the chewing out my target would endure.

"Well, what do you have in mind?" he asked, looking somewhat anxious, "and how can I help?"

"Dad, can you set up a meeting with Alan Barnes? And please, I need to meet with him in private. Very confidential stuff, hush hush you know."

"Can you tell me anything, at all?" he asked.

"Only that Alan Barnes is instrumental to my plans. He's your good friend, isn't he?" I asked. I actually needed to check something, I realize, before I proceed through. My dad is not the absolute best judge of character, but he's my best source into Alan Barnes, and my plan won't work unless he's just incompetent rather than actively malicious. Same as with Gladly, really.

"Yeah, been friends since a long time actually. Kind of like you and Emma," he said, scratching his chin. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. "Why?"

"Well, would you say he is a good father?" I asked. "I mean, as in, how far would he go for his daughter?"

"Did something happen to Emma? Is one of your bullies picking on her, too?" Dad asked.

"Something like that," I said. Kind of.

Emma had turned on me and had been the most hurtful of my bullies. I had no idea what the hell had happened, but one day, she showed up with Sophia at her side and since then she's been the bitchiest of the bitch trio. She was in charge of the psychological assault on me, and had by far done the most damage until January, when Sophia outdid herself and crowned herself reigning champion of bitches everywhere.

My emotions flared at the thought of her, and I stilled them. No sense losing my temper from memories. I love my power at times like this.

"So," he said, "this is to help Emma I take it?"

I can't lie to him. It will help her. I don't know whether I want to help or hurt her. I can't even tell when I have cooled down significantly. If anything, being able to analyze things logically made me able to see that much as I continued to try to get over her, as much as I continuously acted with indifference (again, aided by the cold), I could not just move on.

"Yeah," I said. "It'll help her," I added, nodding a bit.

"Okay, I'll talk to Alan, tell you what he says," he said. "Don't worry, Kiddo, I'm sure Emma'll be okay with your help."

I almost snorted.

She would be better.

But would she be okay? That remains to be seen.

Emma is a bit of a thorny subject, to be honest.

Sure, when I used my cold, it became easy to ignore her, to not even glance in her direction. I knew I wanted to. I wanted to see her squirm and suffer. I wanted to hear her cry for help. But it also hurt. It hurt to see her like that. It hurt to know that I had put someone in the situation I was once in.

I was proud that I had reduced the once strong and in control Emma Barnes to the same state as the once pitiful and meek Taylor Hebert.

I was ashamed of the fact that I had put another in the situation that had put me through so much suffering before.

And I could feel my heart reach out for Emma. I could feel myself hope against hope that she had learned her lesson, that I could hug her and then she'd apologize and we would be BFFs again.

And as I could feel that, I could also feel a part of me that wanted to take her in my arms only for easier access to her neck so I could strangle her more easily, end her life just after I had destroyed it.

As the cold washed over me, I realized I could think very logically and come to a very simple conclusion.

I love Emma Barnes.

I hate Emma Barnes.

I did not want to love Emma Barnes, because I hate her.

I did not want to hate Emma Barnes, because I love her.

She is my best friend, she is my worst enemy.

I want to save her, I want to destroy her.

I sink further into the cold.

Emma Barnes has a wealthy father. A wealthy father with access to a well known and respected law firm. Emma Barnes is intelligent, socially skilled and beautiful. Emma Barnes is a potential asset.

Emma Barnes has proven that she can be influenced. Circumstances unknown. Could be trauma? Possibility, bears investigation.

Emotional responses are insufficient for decision making. Conflict can be resolved. The source of my hate is simple, Emma Barnes has tortured me, destroyed possessions with sentimental value and actively betrayed any and all trust I have placed in her. My hate is rooted in deep seated anger and fear against her. I am angry at what she has done, and afraid of what she could do.

However, I cannot deny a great deal of emotional attachment to Emma Barnes. Unlike my hate, which is young and fresh, my love for her is old and deeply rooted. I had known her for longer than I could remember. Our fathers were friends. I had spent many a night at her house. She had been my other half, I had trusted her with everything.

Anger flared, I noted, at the memory of sharing my secrets with her. Anger and sadness. Regret. Sorrow.

It did not affect me in my current state. My emotions are there, I know, but my mind is clear, my temper is cool. I have emotions still.

I considered submerging deeper into the cold, eliminate the emotional aspect of my argument altogether. It is inadvisable. The result of this will affect me fully when I release my hold on my own mind. I cannot hold this state indefinitely, nor do I wish to. A life where I cannot feel joy or sadness is a dull, meaningless life.

I can hardly appreciate them when they are in full force, but as I deaden their impact more and more, I can only further appreciate my emotions. Without them, I am lesser.

What I must do is clear to me. I must use cold logic to find the way that hurts me the least.

I believe I have found it.

Anger and hatred are like a flame, they burn hot and the burn bright, they consume everything within their reach and with enough fuel, they are unstoppable forces of destruction that will leave nothing to be salvaged behind them. Indulging in anger and hatred is liberating and satisfying on the short term.

But I knew that I would regret doing so. That I would regret being angry and hateful. That I would regret the actions taken when under their influence.

Brightest flame burns quickest, and if I indulged in anger and hatred, when they burned out I would be left empty, hollow and regretful. I would be left a wreck of my former self, hounded by nothing but regret.

I could feel my emotions bubbling through to the surface of my mind, as if emerging from a freezing lake.

Because I had found my answer.

I hate Emma Barnes.

But I love Emma Barnes.

Emma Barnes was my best friend, my confidante, my sister by another set of parents.

I'm weak. I know this. I know this better than anyone, now - super logical me had it right. I'm the kind of bleeding heart moron that feels bad about things done when angry. I think I might actually dislike myself, somewhat, for that, but I don't want to go into the cold again just for that. Besides, I might feel worse if I check and it's true, or if I even have a full on case of self loathing.

I'm afraid to find something I'm not ready for if I look too deep within me.

As it is, the Emma problem has been one I have had to deal with for far too long, and there was no point dawdling.

I want to save her.

I hate her, I hate what she has become, I hate what she did.

But I want to save her. She is my best friend. Was my best friend. My sister. I loved her like one, certainly. And... I wanted to have it back.

I want her to love me like I love her. I want her to love me like she used to love me.

I can't believe her, I can't believe what she says, she told me back then that I was nothing but a weakness that she had outgrown.

But I can't believe that. I won't believe that. It's been too long, I've been feeling sorry for myself for too long. I've just been sitting here, taking her abuse, and wondering why, why she hated me, why she was so focused on me, why my sister in all but blood had told me that she despised me and the very idea of my existence, spit on all that we had shared and betrayed my trust like it was nothing.

I need to know why.

I must know why.

I have to.

Alan Barnes is my best bet in this situation. He has to know.

Something happened to Emma. Something happened to my best friend, that took her away from me.

And I will take her back.

Emma's my best friend, my sister.

She was my pillar when I could do nothing but cry myself to sleep, she was my company when none would give me even the time of the day, when father was in pieces, she was there for me.

And instead of being there for her, of being her rock and pillar to lean on, I had just walked away. Had she been angry, then? Had her words then been just a cry for help?

I don't know.

I won't know until I ask.

I will find out.

Had Emma been broken, then? Had Sophia put back the pieces in a manner convenient to her? Had she further broken Emma? Or had she simply been there, when Emma needed her?

Something must have happened. Something broke Emma. And I have to figure out what it was.

And then I will fix her.

I will fix her, and I will have her back.

Emma is mine, and I won't let anyone else have her.