Part 10: Aftermath
Danny sat opposite Taylor as they ate dinner that night. "I think we did good today, kiddo," he said.
She smiled at him. "I think so, too.". Reaching across the table, she grasped his hand. "I love you, Dad."
He returned her smile. "I love you too, Taylor."
"Thanks for getting me out of that locker."
He squeezed her hand gently. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime at all."
They stood up simultaneously, and moved into a hug.
Danny Hebert held his daughter, his lover, and the person whom he valued most of all in the world. He would die for her; he nearly had, today, and he would do the same again, without hesitation. He knew that she loved him, and needed him, desperately, and so he would stand by her.
Taylor Hebert held her father, her lover, and the person whom she valued most of all in the world. Hers was a battered and scarred soul, but he had proven beyond any doubt that his love for her was unbending, unbreakable. He would stand by her forever, and thus she loved him just as strongly as he did her.
"Taylor ..." he began.
"Dad ..." she began, at the exact same moment.
They shared a self-conscious chuckle.
"You first," she said, snuggling into the embrace.
He cleared his throat. "I was just thinking, it's been a really long day, and we've done a lot, and I'm just a bit worn out ..."
"... so you just wanted to cuddle, tonight?" she finished.
"Well, yeah," he agreed. He pulled back a little, to look down at her. "Is that all right, kiddo?"
She smiled up at him, and kissed him gently on the lips. "I was about to say the very same thing, Dad," she said, and not only was it true, but he also knew it to be so. She laid her head on his chest again. "I've been through so much today, I just need to be able to relax and get my head together. But I still want to sleep with you. I think I might need a hug or two, tonight."
He held her close. "I think I can oblige you with that, Taylor," he agreed. He kissed her on top of her head, and then eased out of the hug. "In the meantime, we have dishes to do."
They washed up; a couple of experiments proved that he could not teleport grime off the dishes, nor the dishes away from the grime. Apparently some things never changed. So the dishes were done the old-fashioned way, and dried the same old way, and put away in the cupboard.
Danny felt a warm glow inside as his daughter scrubbed away at a stubborn stain. With all that had changed in their lives, with their new relationship, with their powers, with everything that had happened, they could still have a quiet domestic moment like this, as if nothing had changed at all. It gave him hope for the future.
She looked up at him and smiled; of course, with their new level of empathic connection, she had felt his happiness and divined the meaning of it.
"I know, Dad," she said softly. "I like it too."
They hugged again, almost as father and daughter once more, holding each other, a rock in a storm, an anchor in a gale. Stability amid chaos.
***
When she came to bed, she wore the singlet top and panties that she had worn the first night they had made love. She smiled as he recognised it. "It's not a message for you to rip it off me and have your wicked way with my sexy, sexy body," she said as she lay down alongside him. "Although I probably would not resist all that much if you did," she added with a giggle. "It's just that this is my most comfortable sleepwear."
"The thought never crossed my mind," he stated piously; which was a lie, and both of them knew it was a lie, but she didn't call him on it.
They settled down to sleep; she snuggled back against him and he put his arms around her, spoon-fashion. If one hand was cupping a breast, and the other her sex, and if she felt a half-hard penis prodding her backside every now and again, she made no mention. Tired out or not, they were still extremely attracted to one another, and such things were more sweet and endearing – in her opinion – than annoying.
He felt her body press back against his, and he could control his autonomic reaction no more than he could the first time that had happened. But she made no protest, merely snuggled her warm buttocks back a little more firmly against his almost-hard erection, and let his hands find their natural places.
They conversed for a little while like that, as sleep gradually overtook them. They were warm, comfortable, loved and safe. It was easy to drift off to sleep.
***
Taylor was in the locker. It was closing in on her. The unimaginably foul muck was rising around her, it was going to suffocate her, she couldn't get out, she couldn't find her phone, she couldn't call Dad. The level of the garbage rose to her chin.
She screamed.
***
Danny came awake as Taylor thrashed and screamed in his arms. He tried to hold her, tried to gently restrain her, as she whipped around, and writhed, and flailed blindly. She was screaming his name, over and over. He heard her begin to vomit, and teleported them both to the bathroom.
Vomit spattered the tiles before he was able to get her head over the toilet, holding her hair out of the way.
She threw up convulsively, her stomach muscles as hard as iron, voiding herself of everything she had eaten that day, since the locker.
He held her gently, speaking soothingly, reminding her that she was all right, that it was all good, she was out of the locker, he was there, he was never going to leave her alone ever again.
Gradually, she quieted down, stopped vomiting. Broke into great racking sobs that shook her skinny frame. He held her, soothed her. She cried on his shoulder.
He got her up, cleaned her up, wiped up the vomitus, flushed the toilet. Held her while she shivered.
"I'm sorry," she whimpered, holding him tightly. "I'm such a burden."
"Never," he told her firmly, lifting her chin. Vomit breath or no, he kissed her firmly on the lips. "I love you, and you have been badly hurt. We just need to work through this."
She rinsed her mouth out; he did the same. She giggled self-consciously; he grinned.
"Let's get back to bed," he said. "We still need our sleep."
***
The locker was full of bugs that had come to feed on the horrible garbage, but there were more bugs than garbage. They crawled all over Taylor as she tried to get out of the locker, up her nostrils, into her mouth, into her eyes, into her ears. To her horror, she felt them burrowing into her underwear, crawling between her buttocks, forcing their way into her anus, crawling between her labia into her vagina, slithering up into her womb where they would lay their eggs ...
She could not open her mouth, because the bugs wanted to crawl in. But she had to if she wanted to scream.
She screamed, choked as the bugs climbed down her throat, screamed again.
***
Danny came awake once more, as Taylor screamed and thrashed in his arms. He held her close, murmuring gently, caressing her hair, telling her that she was all right. This time she retched, but nothing came up; he took her to the bathroom anyway. Kneeling on the white tiles, he embraced her, and she clung to him, sobbing piteously.
Helping her up, he took her to the kitchen and got her a glass of cold water, and had one himself. Then he took them both back to bed.
***
The third nightmare did not even wake Taylor up; she moaned and moved around for a bit in his arms, and he just had to hold her, murmuring soothingly into her ear, until she calmed down and dropped back to sleep proper.
He sighed and lay there for a long time before he finally managed to get back to sleep himself.
***
In the morning, he called in sick. The family emergency, he said, was ongoing, and he had to take care of Taylor. Then he went back to bed.
Taylor was still asleep when he got there, but she started to wake up when he climbed back in with her. She opened her eyes with a gasp and turned to him. "Oh, thank god, Dad," she said, wrapping her arms around him. "I thought you'd gone somewhere."
"Nowhere without you, kiddo," he said gently, holding her in his arms. "Nowhere without you."
She made a contented noise and snuggled up to him. "I love you, Dad," she murmured, holding him close. "Was I much trouble, last night? I seem to recall waking up a few times."
"Just a bit," he admitted. "But it's all right. You went through something no-one should ever have to go through, and it's only natural that there'd be a bit of fallout from that. And I'm here for you anytime, you know that."
He felt hot tears slide from her eyes on to his chest. "Hey now, what's up?" he asked, caressing her hair.
"You're so good to me, Dad," she whispered. "I don't deserve it."
"You're my daughter," he told her bluntly. "If I say you deserve it, you deserve it."
She smiled wanly, and rested her head on his chest once more.
***
Alan Barnes opened the door to find two police officers standing there, along with a woman in civilian clothes.
"May I help you?" he asked.
The police officers looked at him. "Does Emma Barnes live at this address?" the senior one asked.
"Yes, she does," replied Alan. "I'm her father. Why do you want to see her?"
"We would like her to come down to the station for questioning, sir."
Alan froze. "Why – what's she done?"
"You may have heard of an incident where a student at her school was shut into a locker, yesterday?" asked the police officer. "We have reason to believe that she was complicit in that incident."
The lady in civilian clothes stepped forward. "I'm Dorothy Gillman, from Child Services," she said. "I'm here to ensure that her rights are not abrogated while she is being questioned."
Somehow, that did not make Alan feel any better.
***
Across town, a very similar scene was playing out on the doorstep of Madison Clements.
***
Taylor and Danny dozed, woke, talked, dozed again, talked again. It was a thoroughly relaxing time. But around about ten o'clock, Danny finally roused himself.
"We should be going soon," he said. "Otherwise they'll be wondering where we've gotten to."
Taylor sat up. "Yeah, I suppose," she said. "I was really enjoying this, but I guess we should get up." Her eyes were bright, her expression playful. "Shower?"
He smiled and reached for her. "Let's work up a sweat first."
They made love slowly and tenderly, Danny sliding his penis in and out of Taylor's willing slippery vagina. She clung to him and kissed him, moaning with the pleasure that he caused her. He felt it also, felt himself beginning to swell inside her.
She came three or four times before he hunched his back, drove himself deep inside her, and ejaculated; she felt the blistering orgasm, and it raised her own pleasure exponentially. The feedback from this left them both panting and shattered on the bed. Taylor groaned as Danny rolled off of her, his penis sliding wetly out of her.
"Holy shit, Dad, is this just going to get better and better every time we do it?"
"I have no idea," he panted, taking her in his arms and holding her close. "But they say that powers do improve if you work at them."
She put her arms around him, enjoying the feeling of his softening penis lying between her thighs. "What, you're saying that having good sex is one of the powers we share?"
He chuckled. "Sounds as good an explanation as any."
"Wow," she said. "I think our shower had better be just a shower. I don't know if I could survive something like that twice in a row."
He concurred; the shower was just a shower, albeit with plenty of kissing and caressing.
Afterward, they had a late breakfast, then dressed; he teleported them to the PRT base.
***
Armsmaster turned the bag over in his hands, examining the badly damaged musical instrument within. "Yes," he decided. "I can fix this."
"If you can," said Danny Hebert, "we would greatly appreciate it."
"If Armsmaster says he can do this," said Director Piggot, "he can do it.". She looked at Danny and Taylor. "Not to open old wounds," she said, "but didn't you say you had evidence against Shadow Stalker and her two accomplices?"
Danny looked at Taylor, who groaned and put her hand to her forehead. "Would you believe, in all the excitement, I forgot them?"
She shared a glance, and a moment of silent, deadpan, shared amusement, with her father. They both knew exactly what she meant by 'excitement'. Clasping his hand, she asked, "Dad, could you get them for me?"
This time, only Armsmaster was surprised when the purple-brown smoke billowed around Danny's hand, then dissipated to leave him holding a stack of papers. He handed them over to the Director, who promptly handed them on to Armsmaster. "See how she reacts to these, will you?" she asked.
The armoured hero smiled grimly, noting the thickness of the stack. "Will do, ma'am," he replied. He looked at Danny with some respect. "That's a very useful trick, sir."
Danny cleared his throat self-consciously. "If I'm going to be in the Protectorate, then you'll be my boss. I'll be calling you 'sir'."
Armsmaster nodded. "That's a very good point.". He rose. "I'll just take these down to the prisoner now."
As the door to the conference room closed behind him, Miss Militia looked at Taylor and Danny. "I'm guessing you've been discussing it," she said, "so have you decided what names you will be using?"
Taylor grinned. "At first we liked the idea of calling ourselves 'Search and Rescue', but then we decided not to be quite so derivative. So I'm going to be Compass Rose."
Danny nodded. "And I was thinking of going with either Pathfinder or Trailblazer."
Miss Militia nodded. "Very strong names. I must say, I prefer Pathfinder over Trailblazer, though. It has an old-world military ring to it. World War Two, perhaps?"
"Actually, yes," confirmed Director Piggot. They looked at her. "My father was a war buff," she continued, unfazed. "Pathfinder squadrons consisted of light fighter-bombers, usually Mosquitos, flying out ahead of the heavies and dropping flares to mark the target."
There was silence for a moment, as the others considered this.
"That can't have been safe," observed Taylor, taking hold of her father's hand.
Piggot shook her head. "It wasn't. But we are getting away from the point. You have chosen the names Compass Rose and Pathfinder. Costume ideas?"
Danny rubbed his chin. "Compasses are old-school, and as you say, so is the idea of the Pathfinder. So, an old-fashioned look. Sepia tones. Brown and cream."
Miss Militia nodded. "So far, so good. Accessories?"
Taylor spoke up. "I'd like an actual picture of a compass rose on my costume. One of the really gorgeous ones, with scrollwork. Maybe tilted a bit, so it looks elliptical. And goggles. I'll need goggles, with corrective lenses.". She paused. "Actually, Dad, I've been meaning to ask you. Why aren't you wearing your glasses?"
Danny blinked. "Uh, Panacea gave me corrective treatment," he confessed. "I kind of forgot about it, with everything that was happening."
"Ah," she sighed. "And she didn't do it for me because she didn't know I was a cape."
"We can ask her to come back," offered Director Piggot.
"It might not work," observed Miss Militia. "Panacea is very big on her independence. She doesn't do individual requests.". She looked up from the pad she had been sketching on. "How does this look?"
The sketches looked remarkably like target outlines that had been filled in with details after the fact. Both costumes evoked the 'aviator' look without actually being explicit about it. Danny's had knee-high boots, a long coat and a light helmet, looking vaguely military. The heavy goggles had rectangular lenses. "We can also put something across your lower face if you want," she said.
He nodded and passed the pad along to Taylor. Her costume had the compass rose on the chest, a light coat, high boots like Danny's and a light helmet with round-lensed goggles. "We can build in a heads-up display, to feed you information on things or people," Miss Militia added.
"What do you think, kiddo?" asked Danny.
Taylor nodded. "I like it. The basic concept, anyway. We might need to adjust things a little during fitting.". She tapped the coat her image was wearing, then held up her own rather skinny wrist. "We don't want my hands looking like pipe-cleaners coming out of those sleeves.". She cleared her throat. "And would it be possible to have just a little, uh, padding, here and there?" She looked defiantly around the room. "So I don't look, you know, twelve?"
Miss Militia coughed. Danny took a studied interest in the ceiling acoustic tiles. Director Piggot merely looked deadpan, and made a note.
"I'm sure that will be possible," she murmured.
"The costumes will be ready in about two days," said Miss Militia. "In the meantime, it would probably be best if you went about your normal routines."
"Which reminds me," said Danny. "Did I ... out ... myself, yesterday, with all my teleporting around?"
"Actually," said Miss Militia, "it's amazing what people miss if they don't compare notes. We have spoken to the principal at Winslow, and secured her silence, and that of her staff. Virtually no-one else is aware of your new capabilities."
"Uh ... as for going to school ..." said Taylor. "I'm not sure ..."
Miss Militia positively grinned behind her scarf. "Where are Emma and Madison now?"
Taylor blinked. "Uh, in the police station. Not looking happy." She blinked again. "And Mr Barnes is there too. He looks like he's been shouting a lot, and not getting anywhere."
Miss Militia nodded. "And whatever Sophia can confirm from the papers you gave us will be added to their charge sheets when they do get arrested. Believe me when I say that they are not walking away from this one." There was the sound of considerable satisfaction in her voice.
Taylor grinned. "Somehow, I'm really good with that."
Director Piggot nodded. "I'm not surprised." She paused. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"
"Well," said Danny, "I've called in sick, and Taylor isn't expected at school, so we could have a quiet day in ..." His gaze met Taylor's. Read: screw like rabid weasels. "... or, we could have a day out and about."
"Or," offered Taylor, "do you have a spare computer that I can pull up those missing-persons lists on?"
Director Piggot's gaze met that of Miss Militia. "I do believe we just might," agreed Miss Militia.
"While we're getting that set up," added the Director, "would you be able to tell me the status of Jack Slash?"
Taylor breathed deeply, and took her father's hand.
"He's injured, hiding out in a town called Burwell, to the southeast of where he was yesterday," she reported. "Shrapnel wounds and some pretty bad burns. Four sixty-three South Eighth Avenue." She paused. "Crawler's still in the area, Shatterbird's flying southwest, and I can't get a read on Siberian at all. It's like she doesn't exist." She frowned. "That's really weird ... and possibly really bad. How did she go invisible to my power between one day and the next?"
Miss Militia shrugged. "You've only just recently gotten your powers," she said. "Maybe you're still working them out."
Taylor shrugged dubiously. "Okay, I guess." She looked at Director Piggot. "The rest are in custody?"
"Or dead," replied the Director bluntly. "But from retrieved remains, only the four got away." She smiled thinly. "Thank you for the information about Jack Slash."
Taylor nodded. "You're welcome."
Miss Militia stood up. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you set up for finding missing persons."
Taylor got up along with Danny. Hand in hand, they followed her out the door.