I make my way home in a daze; the first thing I do when I get there is crash. Hard.

A couple hours later, I'm hauling myself up off the couch. First, because it's not a comfortable place to sleep (especially not while I'm in costume), but also because I just...I need to get back to work. Do something useful. Or at least something that feels useful.

With everything I've done wrong lately, it doesn't take much time to come up with a list. Times I didn't ask for help, and probably should have. Times I told myself I'd do something and then didn't. Hasty decisions based on bad assumptions. Things I just flat out forgot.

Now, this list is a bit longer than I would have hoped. But it's nothing I can't fix, moving forward. Starting with the most immediate problem; the Charm that had ruined pretty much everyone's day earlier is marked with a piece of red tape and tossed into the back of my closet, hidden away with my collection of Runes.

There's the list, one line shorter. I feel marginally less like crap.

After that, there isn't actually much to act on. Not while I'm sitting here at home. All I can really do is settle in and review. Think of ways I would have done things differently. Also, get a very late lunch. Or early dinner, at this point. I'm not sure if it's just because I skipped a meal, or if my new healing abilities are playing a part, but I'm starving.

The reheated leftovers are gone before I even realize it. Less of a diversion than I would have liked, but...no, that's a good thing. I don't need to be distracting myself from this, just because I don't like thinking about how I got my friend shot. Definitely not. I should be focusing on the list, and maybe take the time to go back over the tinker's notebook...

Maybe I should do the dishes first, though? Yes, that sounds like a plan.

I've just started drying things, when the front door opens. I listen, absently tracking heavy footsteps down the hall, through the living room. Dad pauses, in the door, shopping bag in one hand...and a suitcase in the other? He seems surprised to see me. Which is a little weird since I wasn't exactly being quiet.

...actually, thinking about it, it's probably because I'm still wearing most of my costume. My mask's sitting on the table, my coat on a chair, but the rest of it is comfortable enough that I hadn't hadn't really been thinking about it. It must look a little strange. Makes me wonder if other Capes do chores in their costumes-

"Are you going out again?"

Oh. I should actually say something, instead of just standing here. "I got back in a while ago. Just...haven't changed, yet." A dry dish goes in the cabinet, and I turn away from the sink, crossing over to the table to grab my mask. "I should probably go do that-"

"Is that blood?"

"Are those bullet holes?"

Shit.

xxxxxxxxxx

'Wearing bloodstained clothes in front of Dad' goes on the List. The List goes on the inside of my door.

It probably should have been the first thing I did, changing into something less...bullet riddled. Now, I have to peel out of my costume with the sound of Dad pacing downstairs to help drive in the point that I got shot. Again. It's becoming a disturbingly regular occurrence.

Shouldn't that bother me more?

The skin over what used to be bullet wounds is still pink and raw. Different from the last couple of times; Amy had offered, but I'm pretty sure I only asked her to stop the bleeding. My memory's a little fuzzy on the subject which, in retrospect, makes me question the decision...

No, it was the right call. I can heal on my own now. A little bit of self-sufficiency. That's definitely a good thing.

Less so, having to explain things to Dad again. This day just doesn't want to end, does it?

I toss the bodysuit in with the rest of my laundry, hang up the vest and...shit, I left my coat downstairs. I'll just figure out how to clean it all properly later. For now I'll settle for clean clothes...over dried blood.

God, this day doesn't want to end.

"Alright. Shower first. Then clean clothes. Then, explanations." A straightforward plan for immediate problems. It should be galvanizing.

Really, I just want to curl up in my bed for a day or two...why is this so hard?

I leave the foul temptation of sleep behind, making a beeline for the bathroom. Because I can do this, dammit.

xxxxxxxxxx

One bone-chilling shower and fresh change of clothes later, I finally make my way back downstairs. If I linger a bit longer than necessary at the foot of the stairs? That's just me collecting my thoughts.

Dad is hunched in a chair at the kitchen table, a barely-touched plate sitting between his elbows as he holds his head in his hands. I can't quite make out his expression, from here...and I can't bring myself to move any closer, for a better look. So, instead, I clear my throat. Try not to be bothered by the way he startles, or the expression on his face.

"They were low-caliber rounds."

It comes out more plaintive than I'd hoped. And, a second after I actually say it, I realize that maybe that wasn't the best opening I could have chosen.

The strangled noise he makes does seem to back that assumption. "Taylor, you were shot." I can't exactly deny it, so I just bite my tongue and nod. "Someone shot you!"

"They caught us by surprise." It takes an effort to get out. Feels weak, under scrutiny. "And it's already healed-"

"Were you even going to tell me?"

My silence is answer enough. He screws his eyes shut, fists clenched so tight I can hear his joints creak. But he just breathes, and slumps back heavily in his chair. Opens his hands to press his palms, hard, against the table. "You told me. Just this morning, you said that you would keep me in the loop! And now-!"

"It was a mistake." He grits his teeth, a muscle jumping in his jaw. I wrap my arms around my stomach, scratch at the sudden itch of healing skin, under my shirt. He doesn't try to pick back up, doesn't try to talk over me. Just takes another deep breath, red creeping up his neck. "I screwed up, and I got hurt...I got my friend hurt."

He opens his eyes again, blinking rapidly. I pretend not to notice. "What were you even doing? Were you going after that...that 'bone tinker' again?"

"I was trying to follow up on a lead with Victoria. We found one of his henches…and I thought we could follow him, stop them from setting up somewhere new."

"On your own."

It's not a question. And he's not impressed. I feel a spike of anger, at his tone. "I know."

"Taylor-"

"I know, dad!"

He takes a sharp breath. I dig my heels in, to get my side out first-

~I'm a bitch, I'm a lover, I'm a child, I'm a mother, I'm a sinner, I'm a saint. I do not feel ashamed!~

We both turn to look at my coat, some of the tension bleeding out of the room as the muffled music starts to loop. After another few seconds, dad turns to look at me again.

I sigh, and rub at my eyes. Trying in vain to work out some of the tension building there. "Victoria was playing with my phone.."

He smiles. Even if it's a little forced, strained around his eyes. And when I move to dig the thing out, he turns his attention to the plate still sitting in front of him.

The ringing stops before I can find it to answer. I fish it out of its interior pocket anyway, and take a few seconds to just compose myself, because barely ten seconds pass before it starts up again. And despite everything, I seriously consider just not answering.

Not for very long, of course. I pick up after the second ring.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." Victoria sounds tired. And decidedly not cheerful. Maybe she hadn't just shaken things off, once she'd gotten healed up. "I know it's kind of late, but I figured I should give you a call."

I sigh, turn away from the table and move to the door. "It's fine. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get to sleep, anyway." With some vague semblance of privacy gained, I lean in the door frame, close my eyes and rest my head against the jamb. "What's up?"

"Mom spent about an hour on the phone with Aunt Sarah." There's a creak; Victoria's bed, probably. She does seem to hole up in her room a lot, when she's on the phone. "And as much as I hate to be 'that girl'...you want the good news, or the bad?"

Knew that was coming. Doesn't take any of the punch out of it. "I think I'll take the good, first."

"That's fair." There's a hint of her usual grin in her voice. Just for a moment. "The good news is that everyone's gearing up for one more shot at this guy. And you still rate an invite, seeing as none of us can counter him if he tries to pull that mirror-trick again."

I don't think that'd be possible since he doesn't have more of my blood, but…gift horse. Mouth. "I'm more than willing to see this through."

"Yeah, well, that's sort of where the bad news comes in. Because we're going after him tomorrow. And if he gets away again…" She trails off, and I open my eyes. Chew my lip, as the silence drags on. Until, finally, "Taylor, if he gets away again, my mom is going to the Protectorate with everything we know about the guy."

I blink. Stare at nothing. Remember, after just a little too long, to breathe. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Including what you know about me."

"Everything short of outing you."

It's bitter. She doesn't like it either. Somehow, I manage to find that reassuring. And...really, how am I supposed to respond to that?

"Okay."

"What? Seriously?" Frustration. I can just see her, sitting up, scowling at her phone. "I think that deserves a slightly stronger response than 'okay'."

"You got shot today." I take a deep breath, comb my hair back fitfully. "And I don't even want to think about how many people he's killed. So yeah. 'Okay' is all I've got, at this point."

"...exactly how long did you spend agonizing over trying to tell me this stuff?"

"And how much good did that actually do me, in the end?"

She snorts. I smile. There's quiet, on the line.

"I guess that's that then." More creaking, shifting. She yawns, and it takes an actual effort not to immediately echo it. "See you tomorrow then? Probably not until noon-ish. Plenty of time for rest, food, recon...the usual stuff."

I nod. "Just give me a call when you need me."

"Will do. Bye, friend."

"Bye."

She hangs up, and I do the same. And then it's just...I take a deep breath. Let it out as slowly as I can.

"So, tomorrow. I'll be going with New Wave to take another shot at the tinker. And if he gets away, Brandish is going to the Protectorate with everything, including the connection between our powers."

Silverware clicks, scrapes. "I suppose I'll hold down the fort, then. Maybe break out the old rolodex." I turn to shoot my dad a skeptical look, and he smirks, despite the tense concern deepening the lines around his eyes. "Cape Law can't be that much different from Contract Law."

I can't help it. I laugh. Pretty soon, he's laughing too. It's a great distraction from the massive, murderous elephant in the room.

In the end, I don't linger. Not willing to risk facing that again. End the night on a high note, so that I can be ready for tomorrow.

[I forget to question the suitcase still sitting at Dad's feet.]

xxxxxxxxxx

Sleep doesn't come easily. I toss and turn for hours, before finally drifting off...and even that isn't peaceful. Restful. Groggy, waking minutes spread out between anxious, confusing dreams. By the time my alarm goes off at eight, I'm more than willing to abandon the whole thing.

The moment I'm upright, of course, I want nothing more than to collapse back into bed. Instead, I hit the showers, and set about getting ready.

First, my costume. The bodysuit and pants go in the wash, the vest and coat go under the tap...I get out as much blood as I can manage, before leaving them to dry. With that done, I check over my batons, my mask...spend a few minutes kicking myself for leaving the crossbow I'd taken from Shadow Stalker at Victoria's place again. She'd tried to remind me, I'd tried to remember, but after the whole mess yesterday it'd completely slipped my mind. Maybe I'd have the chance to grab it today, before...whatever was going to happen.

Charms next. I pick them up, sort them out...the precog Charm, the one for 'I'm being watched'. I debate the momentum Charm for a moment, before setting it aside and grabbing 'stick the landing'...and I should really come up with something better than that to call these things. Maybe based on their effects...Thinker Charms and Mover Charms? Something to consider.

I nearly jump out of my skin when Dad knocks on my door, fumble the belt I'd been threading Charms onto. "Y-yeah?"

"Breakfast is downstairs, when you're ready."

"Thanks, Dad."

Footsteps, down the hall, then the stairs. I shake myself out, toss the belt onto my bed. "Breakfast."

Knew I was forgetting something.

Breakfast, as it turns out, is a double portion of bacon, eggs, and peanut-butter toast. 'For a hard work-day' is Dad's explanation, but I almost wonder if this is some sort of...strange, passive-aggressive way to keep me from actually going out. With the way my stomach is doing flips, I can't say it wouldn't be effective.

Or, I wouldn't have. But once I actually sit down, my appetite returns with a vengeance.

I go for seconds. Dad shakes his head, and hides behind his paper.

By eleven, I'm about as collected as I could hope to be. All that's left is waiting for the call.

Sitting.

Waiting.

When my phone buzzes, I 'port across the room to pick it up. Which, I guess, wasn't entirely necessary.

'usual place cu there'

Alright then. 'Bring the crossbow, please?'

'Fine bring ur creepy.'

I roll my eyes. But I'm smiling, as I pull my mask into place. 'On my way.'

' 'omw' tylr lern 2 txt yr 2lame4me '

I'm not going to dignify that with a response. Instead, I tuck my phone away and open my door. "Dad! I'm headed out!"

There's a brief (but noticeable) pause before he responds. "Stay safe, Taylor!"

Not much chance of that. But, "I'll do my best!"

And then I'm gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

It's a miserable sort of morning. Not five minutes in the open, and I'm already wondering why I bothered putting my costume through the drier.

The rain isn't heavy, but it's constant. And given that I'm traveling mostly by rooftop, there's no real way to avoid it. Weighing down my coat, seeping through my hood and the cowl of my mask to trickle down my neck...ugh.

I'll just have to get used to it. At least the cold is manageable. And my costume doesn't seem to be chafing...yet.

Traveling at an easy pace means I reach the meeting point in a little under ten minutes. New Wave, of course, has already arrived. And of course, they've avoided the worst of the elements by sheltering under a set of glowing shields.

Glory Girl is grinning, as I close the last few feet, holding out the crossbow expectantly. "Jeeze, Crow. Gotta be honest, you look like a drowned r-"

"I will shoot you."

She laughs, but it trails off under Brandish's sour look, and she hands the crossbow over without further comment.

Which seems to be about the order of the day, because the rest of New Wave offer only nods and tight smiles in greeting. The members that actually bother to acknowledge me beyond a glance. I'm sure it would have been more awkward, if Lady Photon hadn't cleared her throat to draw everyone's attention almost immediately.

"I'm sure you all remember our last attempt at this." A few more shared glances. I try to ignore the way they linger on me. "We're going to make our way to the Tinker's new hideout in the same groups as before." She turns to me directly, then. "Crow, once we're close enough, you'll be setting Panacea down with Shielder, and joining the rest of us inside."

She gestures toward her husband as she continues. "Manpower will be taking point, and I'll be right behind him. From what I understand, the interior is fairly cramped. We'll have a defensive advantage, but our offensive options will be limited without risking structural damage."

Glory Girl frowns, and crosses her arms. "You actually looked at me while you said that."

"Crystal has yet to crash through any walls in order to make her entrances." It's chiding, but Lady Photon is smiling as she says it. I almost make a comment about encouraging reckless behavior, but...I think better of it. "Crow, your objective is to keep the tinker from attempting to escape through...esoteric means." I tense, as she steps forward to rest a hand on my shoulder. "Just let us take care of the rest."

I'm reasonably sure she didn't mean it to sound like it does. That doesn't quite keep it from stinging. "...I'll do my best."

"That's all we can ask."

Brandish doesn't seem to agree. Even if Glory Girl is giving me a thumbs up.

"Alright then." Lady Photon nodded sharply, waved at Shielder...the field above us drops, and the rain returns. I try not to hunch into my coat, too much, and I can already see I'm not the only one. Still, nobody complains, as we shuffle around into our 'groups'. "Crow will be setting our pace again...whenever you're ready."

I don't bother saying anything. Just hold out an arm for people to hold onto.

A thought occurs.

"I'm not...actually sure I remember where we're going?"

Nearest me, Panacea sighs heavily. Manpower just chuckles, and gives me the address before pointing the way.

Not the best start. But I'll make do.

I'll have to.