I was dressed in my nicest clothes, heading into a small meeting room at the Dockworkers Union building. My Dad's lawyer friend stood from the table when we entered. He had a big smile on, and was enthusiastically shaking my dad's hand.

"Danny, good to see you. Glad I could lend a hand." He turned to me. I'm not sure what I expected to see. Pity, in regards to all my bullying? Excitement, at meeting a cape? Some other emotion I probably wouldn't be able to discern due to my utter lack of social skills?

What I got was none of those. A big smile; an affable, dare I say honest expression on his face, as he reached out and shook my hand. He was an older guy, easily in his 50's or 60's, but in good shape. A nice suit, but not so nice he'd be mugged walking home a bit before dark.

I decided on the spot that I liked him.

"My name's David Wheeler. I'm glad we could find a time to meet. Hear you've got yourself into a bit of a pickle with a contract? Smart to get it looked at. The PRT is sneaky; they like to slip stuff in between the lines. Don't you worry. We'll get you sorted out in an hour, two at the most."

I beamed a smile at him. Why couldn't everybody be this nice? It's easy to talk to people who are this nice, and friendly. Maybe it's because he's older? There's less pressure, I suppose.

"It's nice to meet you Mr. Wheeler. I appreciate you taking the time to meet with us."

"Just so we're all on the same page here," Dad started "how much for the full two hours? Just want us squared away up front."

"Oh don't you worry about that, young man." The idea that my Dad could be considered young was frightening to me. "You've kept my little Bill in work during these hard times. Least I can do is spare you a couple hours after I've shut the lights off at the practice. If this takes more than a few hours, I'll eat my hat."

I was tempted to point out that he wasn't wearing a hat, but he just seemed so earnest that I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"So, I took the time to look over the paperwork, and I'll be honest. This is a pretty standard package. But I understand that your situation is a bit peculiar, so we'll go through your concerns one by one, alright? The trust fund and payment are normal for Wards, and I wouldn't touch that with a ten-foot pole. They get real peculiar about money at the PRT. It's a $50,000 a year trust fund for continuing education, and minimum wage with a chance for merit increases every year. That work for you?"

"That's fine." I speak up. "I'm not really in this for the money. I want to help people, and I want to get away from Winslow. Those are my only two concerns."

"Good, good. Most people think about getting rich and famous. It'll be nice to have a hero around who's looking out for the little guy." He winked at me. I feel like I accidentally entered the 1960's, this guy is amazing.

He continues "Now, there is one thing that used to be standard in these contracts that was excluded here. And it's a bit of a sticky subject. This is something I think every contract should have; I'm not saying anything about you personally, understand?" I nod before he goes on. "Used to be that every Protectorate, Ward, and PRT HQ had their own in house therapist. Don't know when exactly they got rid of it, but I hate that they did. Basically, I want to copy and paste their old wording from previous contracts on their requirements to give you a therapist."

I almost spoke up to say I didn't need a therapist, but I stopped myself. I looked at my Dad, and slowly got an idea. "Is it possible for them to pay for therapy for my whole family, not just me? I mean, I know that being a hero is going to be stressful on my Dad. I don't want him to have to spend extra money just because I'm trying to do the right thing."

And that's the truth. I really was worried about my Dad. I can only imagine that he was having as hard of a time with all this as I was. At the very least, it could be a first step on our road to recovering from Mom, and becoming a family again.

Man, having powers just kept getting better and better.

"Good, then. I'll put that bit back in. They'll be required to provide a therapist and pay for two monthly sessions for family members, or pay for 6 monthly sessions for use between yourself and family members.

"Now, one last big item, before we get down to boring details. The wording they have here about your schooling states that they will make a reasonable effort to get you out of Winslow, or to alternately provide a safe environment."

I was really hoping the next words out of his mouth would be that he had a way to fix it.

"Now Taylor. Your Dad and I have talked a little about your situation, but I'd like to hear it from you. When did you get your powers? I don't want specifics, just a general idea."

"When I woke up from my coma. After…" well, he said he had talked to my Dad. He probably already knew. "After I was shoved in the locker."

Mr. Wheeler had a nasty look on his face.

"Do you know what a Trigger Event is, dear?"

I had never heard that term before, and I told him as such.

"I've worked with capes before, so don't be ashamed. Every cape has one. It's generally considered the worst day of your life. So, I wouldn't be so crass as to ask for specifics, but if you Triggered at school, we have grounds to make it so you can't legally be required to ever set foot in Winslow again unless it's related to a Wards or Protectorate mission. The PRT would either have to get you into a new school, pay for tutors, or sign you up for online schooling. How does that sound?"

"That would be perfect. You could really do that?"

"I'm surprised they didn't do it already. I'd be willing to guess they didn't know you Triggered at school, or they probably would have already added something like this to the contract." His voice was gentle as he explained all the details to me, and I felt immensely better that we'd taken the opportunity to contact a lawyer.

We spent the next hour and half going over some of the details of the contract with a fine tooth comb. Rewording, and restructuring sentences. Making sure I fully understood what I was signing. And at the end of our two hours, I was smiling just as wide as Mr. Wheeler was.

It was on our drive home that Dad finally brought up the topic I knew he'd been holding on to since the meeting.

"So, you think I need a shrink, huh?" He had a smile on his face, so he was mostly kidding.

"Honestly, Dad? I know that we both do. Neither of us has really ever dealt with losing Mom." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white. "And we're finally starting to get back on the same page. To being a family again. I don't want that to end. I know us. We'll bottle up our emotions, and without Mom around to make us talk about them, we'll just try and keep it all inside until one of us explodes. I don't want us to explode."

"I know you're right," he sighed, "but it'll be weird. You know my Dad. Grandpa was one tough son of a bitch. If he knew I was going to therapy, he'd grab me by the neck, take me to a bar down on the docks, and tell me to have a drink and get over it. That's… It's hard to remember that that's not the way I'm supposed to handle things."

I wasn't sure, but I thought that might have been the first time I'd ever heard my Dad swear when he knew I could hear him. I used to hear him swear when he and Mom would argue, but never in front of me. I wasn't sure if he realized he had done it, but it was nice. I imagined it represented that, even though things would never be the same, we were getting closer again.

Or maybe I was just overly sappy.

I enjoyed the companionable silence for the next few minutes.

"You wouldn't… really move to Chicago. Would you?" Well that wasn't what I expected him to ask.

"If this contract stays the way it is? No, probably not. They'll have to find me a way into Arcadia, Immaculata, or Clarendon. Or they'd have to get me a tutor. But if they don't agree to that part of the contract? I think I would rather move than go back to Winslow."

"I can understand that." He seemed to be thinking hard. "Chicago doesn't do as much shipping as the Bay. But there are other unions I could join, if I can't get a job on the docks."

I was too shocked to say anything. "I couldn't ask you to move away from the Bay, Dad. I would miss you, more than anything. I love the Bay almost as much as you do, and I love you even more. I would miss you like crazy, but the Docks are your life. What about the Boat Graveyard? Revitalizing our shipping industry? It's your dream!"

"My dream is to see you grow up, happy and safe. That's what it was always about for me. Making a better life for everyone else, but most especially for you… and for your Mom. And now it's all about you. So, if you need to be in Chicago to be safe, then of course I'd come with you."

I was too shocked to say anything. So instead I just reached a hand over to squeeze his hand.

It seemed like everything was looking up.

A/N: Short chapter this week. Trying to keep a regular posting schedule, but I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep it up. Thanks to assembler and wizerd00 for beta reading this chapter!