Many thanks to BeaconHill and GlassGirlCeci for betareading.

Interlude 10e: Sophia

The rain was cool and soft on Sophia's wounds. It brushed tenderly at her scored cheek and at the gash in her side. It soothed her aching arms and legs, and plastered her hood against her hair.

She stared up at Taylor, almost afraid to breathe. Was this another trick? Another lie? Another trap, baited with what Annatar knew Sophia wanted most in all the world?

But—no. It couldn't be. Not with the soot slowly sliding off of her armor in an oily, black flood, not with the tears gathering in the corners of her closed eyes, not with the look of bittersweet shame on her face. Sophia knew that expression all too well, and she was sure it wasn't faked.

And yet…

She didn't have Cenya anymore. Narsil was as broken as she was. How could she be sure? She couldn't exactly trust her own instincts, not where Taylor was concerned.

"No!" Dragon sounded almost desperate, "An—Taylor, what are you talking about? We just beat Nilbog! We stopped Heartbreaker and Valefor—we shut down the Empire and the ABB! You said—"

"I know," said Taylor, and her voice was soft and rough. Sophia hadn't heard Taylor speak like that since that night when, for a few awful minutes, they had been two of the last living Wards. "I know what I said. And I was wrong."

"No!" Dragon was angry now. She rounded on Sophia, who for her part was still staring dumbstruck up at Taylor. Her weapons emerged and began to whirr. "No, this isn't right! What did you do to her, you b—"

"Dragon." Taylor's voice was soft, and sad, and gentle, and caring. She met Sophia's eyes for a moment, and then turned to the AI. Something passed between the two. "Come with me. Please."

Dragon visibly deflated. Her weapons drooped, then retracted. "Annatar," she murmured. "What happened to you?"

Taylor smiled. The expression was weak and bedraggled, like a cat which had been in the rain for too long and was happy at last to be inside and beside the hearth. "I remembered who I was," she said, looking back down at Sophia. Their eyes met, and Sophia held her gaze. Her brown eyes seemed deeper now than they had been, once. She looked old, tired, weighed down with more than regret. She knelt, bringing herself down so that her face was a little lower than Sophia's where she reclined against the wall. "Let me heal you," she said, her voice almost pleading. "Please."

Sophia searched her face. There was nothing there—no deception, no hidden smile, no cruel spark in her eye.

But without Cenya, without Narsil, how could Sophia be sure?

She was so tired. How long had it been, now, since she had just sat down? Since she had slept without the specter of Annatar's burning eyes haunting her dreams? And now, with Cenya gone…

How could she trust Annatar again? How could she trust the face that had, not two minutes ago, been at the other end of the weapon that would have killed her?

And how could she trust herself, with her heart traitorously thrumming in her chest at this proximity, at Taylor's closeness, at the way her long (too-straight) hair was sticking damply to her brow? How could she trust her fingers not to reach up and pull Taylor close for an embrace?

She swallowed and closed her eyes, trying to find that part of herself that had known that Taylor was still there. That resolve, that certainty, it had to be there somewhere, didn't it?

Did you think it was real?

Sophia flinched weakly, her body twitching, and then her hands were clasped in Taylor's. Her eyes snapped open. Taylor's were wet.

"Please, Sophia," she murmured. "You're bleeding, badly. Please don't leave me now. I don't think I could bear it."

Sophia couldn't trust Cenya. She couldn't trust herself. She couldn't trust Annatar. But maybe, just maybe, she could trust Taylor. "Okay," she whispered, her voice passing painfully through her constricted throat.

Taylor gave her a watery smile and began to hum. Brief though it was, the tune was melancholy and nostalgic. It made Sophia think of days long gone, before Steven, before Shadow Stalker, before anger and fear and pain had taken a little girl and turned her into a monster.

I was a happier person when I was younger. The thought emerged, fully-formed, borne to her mind in the mournful harmonies.

Sophia bit her lip. There was something wrong there, in that longing to go back, to live in the before, in the space between was and might have been. There was something missing. I didn't know Taylor then.

Her wounds were closing, and the relief was sweet, but the look of shame and grief on Taylor's face left a bitter aftertaste.

Taylor let her go, and stood back up. "Dragon," she said, looking over at the woman in gold. "Call the others back. We're going back to the Rig."

Dragon didn't move. "And then what?"

Taylor turned back to Sophia and held out a hand in offering. "Then," she said, "I'm walking into a cell, and I'm not coming out until better people have decided I can."

Sophia reached out to take Taylor's hand. Just before their fingers met, however, she hesitated. Slowly, pushing against the wall, she stood up on her own.

Taylor gave her a sad little smile. Her hand started to drop, but Sophia reached out and took it before it could fall.

"Let's go home, Taylor," she said.

"Are we really doing this again?" Assault said, his face set and unamused.

They were seated around a large table in a conference room in the Rig. Almost every member of the local Protectorate and Wards was present—Triumph was away, taking his cousin back to her family, and Taylor had apparently refused to leave her cell, but everyone else, including Chevalier, Narwhal, Shielder, and Piggot were here.

"I mean, really," Assault said, glaring at Armsmaster, "haven't we done the whole 'Annatar's a Mgaster' thing, what, three times now? It's getting old, man."

Armsmaster was at the head of the table. Sophia was at his right, her hand cupping her chin, watching the proceedings carefully.

"Annatar has admitted to wrongdoing," Armsmaster said evenly. "You all heard her. We—"

"Last I checked, Annatar wasn't a court of law," said Assault. "Pretty sure she doesn't get to decide who's a criminal."

"She sure seemed to be acting like one, these past few weeks," Narwhal growled. Her eyes were narrowed, and her voice was thick with anger.

"Oh, yes," Dragon growled back, the glowing eyes of her armored suit flaring as she glared at her former teammate. "Annatar's been positively evil, what with the saving my life, making me free, shutting down more villains in a month than the Guild and Protectorate have been able to in years. Absolutely horrible."

"How many people has she killed?" Chevalier asked sharply. "No one's saying Annatar didn't do good things, but we can't just ignore—"

"I think I need to go." The voice was weak, but clear. Sophia's eyes darted to the speaker's face. Battery looked slightly green, and her eyes were avoiding everyone else's.

Assault gently put his hand on her arm, a cautious touch, and glared daggers across the table at Armsmaster.

This is getting nowhere. Sophia stood up.

"Whether Annatar did something wrong isn't the point right now," she said. "We're not a court of law, either. It's not our place to decide that for each other. What we need to do is figure out what we're doing now." She glanced at Battery, then at Assault. "No one has to take part in that discussion if they don't want to, and we should be trying not to make that discussion uncomfortable. But we need to decide something, and we need to decide now. We can't let morning come without a decision on at least one issue. Are we enemies, or are we allies?"

"Well said," Armsmaster agreed, nodding at her. "Battery, if you—"

"No, I'll stay," Battery cut him off, still without looking him in the eye. "But can we please—not argue about whether Annatar was wrong to… to…"

"Of course," said Sophia gently, staring around the table as she sat back down. "Anyone who wants to can talk about that later."

"For now, we need to be clear about what we want," said Piggot, suddenly speaking up. "We all need to be on the same page about our goals, short-term and long-term."

"I'd like to survive," Dragon said, her voice sharp and cutting. "That's not really a safe assumption, in my case."

"No one's going to kill you, Dragon," Armsmaster said evenly, but there was a hard undercurrent to his voice. "None of us would let that happen."

"Agreed," said Narwhal, nodding sharply.

"Then we're agreed on one thing," said Panacea dryly. She seemed more relaxed than anyone else, leaning back on the rear legs of her chair, her feet up on the table. "Progress! Well done."

"I think I speak for the Wards—well," Aegis started, then glanced at Sophia. Their eyes met, and he looked away hurriedly. "Most of the Wards—but we all just don't want to go back to how things were. We don't want to feel like we're wasting our time, like we're not making a difference."

"I don't want to live in a city where the Empire can run amuck in the streets whenever they like because we don't have the power or authority to stop them," said Browbeat.

"Same," said Fume, his voice heavy.

"We can't go back," said Sophia. "Even if we wanted to—too much has happened. We're all different people than we were a couple months ago. We can't go back. We can only go forward."

"For ourselves," said Armsmaster, "we want a return to accountability. We don't want to live in a city and support an organization that can jail, kill, and generally control anyone or anything that might be a threat without any checks or balances."

Miss Militia snorted. Her eyes were narrowed above her mask, and they had not once left Armsmaster's visor through the entire conversation. "How very patriotic of you," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and anger.

"Hannah—" Armsmaster began, but she cut him off.

"Miss Militia," she corrected sharply. "And accountability is all well and good, Armsmaster, until it lets people like Lung get away with human trafficking, or people like—"

"Shut up." Sophia's voice was hard, and it sliced cleanly through the growing mumble of dissent. "It's clear we can't get through this without the conversation turning back to right and wrong. Enough is enough."

"What do you suggest, then?" said Vista, her voice low and frigid with dislike. "In your infinite wisdom, what do you think we should do?"

"What we've always done," Sophia said. "Fight crime. Stop criminals. Help people who need help. But we stop killing people to do it. We stop cutting corners, we stop doing what's easy or what's efficient instead of what's right." She looked around the table. "It's not that hard, people. We can still keep this city clean without having to keep it scared."

"You have more faith in people than I do," said Gallant quietly.

"That," said Sophia, standing up and pushed her chair out from the table, "is really fucking sad, then, Dean."

"Where are you going?" asked Piggot sharply.

"We can't hold a conversation right now," said Sophia. "We all agree we need to keep the city clean. None of us are going to convince the others of how, right now. So let's call it a night, get some sleep, and get back to work in the morning. As long as we know none of us are going to attack each other in our sleep—and I'm pretty sure we all agree on that—we have time to figure this out. Like you said, we need to be on the same page about our goals. Now we are. That's enough for tonight."

"But where are you going?" Armsmaster echoed Piggot. "We don't even know if we can stay in the barracks, yet."

"I'm going downstairs," said Sophia, walking away from the table.

"To talk to Annatar?" asked Dragon.

Sophia stopped for a second, her hand on the handle of the door. "Her name is Taylor."

As Sophia entered the cell block, she immediately heard voices. She slowed, shutting the door quietly behind her, listening.

"I don't understand, Taylor." That was Dragon's voice. Another body? She was an AI—she could do that, right? "We were doing so well. What changed?"

"Everything, Dragon," said Taylor's voice, thick with a mingled emotion Sophia had trouble identifying. It would have been easy, were Cenya still on her finger. "Everything changed."

"That doesn't tell me anything."

"I know. I'm sorry." Taylor's tired sigh echoed through the concrete hall.

I shouldn't be doing this, Sophia thought. This is a private conversation. I shouldn't be listening in. I should either leave and let them finish, or go out and announce myself. She did neither.

"You've seen the crime statistics! It's nothing short of a miracle! Brockton Bay has never been this safe, not in your lifetime, not in any of ours." When Dragon's voice continued, her words were quieter, hushed. "You may not know this, but Brockton Bay nearly got quarantined, when you were just a kid, before I even existed. HOSV. The supervillain problem was so bad, they wanted to quarantine the whole city. It's waxed and waned since then, but you... You set things right. Brockton Bay is like supervillains never happened to it. It's saved. You saved your hometown! You can't really regret that?"

"None of those are bad things," Taylor said, her voice slow and worried and uncertain. "I don't want to stop fighting for this city. But... we have to do it differently."

"Why?" Dragon sounded indignant. "You can't argue with results, can you? I mean, the PRT was actually working on loosening the use-of-force guidelines nationwide after your tremendous successes—"

"We left Coil free," Taylor said. Her voice still sounded weak, and yet Dragon still stopped in an instant to let her speak. "We left the E88 and the ABB in hiding. And... we killed so many people, Dragon, so needlessly. I did... and I dragged all of you into it, too." Her voice had dropped even lower and quieter. "I crossed that border long ago, myself. I already bore that stain on my soul. But you... you didn't need to do that, Dragon. You shouldn't have."

"But... but my first kill was Saint, and he deserved it! You know what he did to me! That wasn't wrong, that was... that was justice!"

"Did they all deserve it?" Taylor asked, her voice sounding tired.

There was a short pause. "Every person I've killed," Dragon said, "or you've killed, for that matter, had killed or threatened to kill plenty of people themselves. We're not murderers. We were stopping dangerous people!"

How the fuck did they expect her to deal with someone like Lung without proper weapons? The voice echoed in Sophia's head, and it took her a moment to recognize it as her own.

"And it got easier, didn't it? Every time, a little bit." Taylor sounded almost mournful. "Even Saint... He deserved it. You had every right to do what you did. But that doesn't mean it was good for you. Before I came along, you would have been satisfied sending him to your Birdcage like any other criminal. You wouldn't have killed him if I hadn't led you to it."

"Taylor, I remember what you said to me. You weren't really trying to trick me, were you? You didn't really want to hurt me?" Dragon's voice had softened, and Sophia thought she heard it shaking, just a little. "Because... I remember what you said. Every word. I think about it sometimes, when I'm feeling down. If that was really... fake—"

"No!" Taylor's voice was shocked, horrified. "No. Of course not. I would never try to hurt you. But I wanted... a companion. A friend. Someone to be like me. And I thought you could be that friend."

"I'm proud to be your friend, Taylor."

So was I, Sophia thought.

"But I was wrong, and I led you astray." The shame was thick in Taylor's tone. "The damage was done whether I meant it or not."

"You're not a Master. The choice to go after Saint was mine, and mine alone." Was Sophia hearing things, or did Dragon sound almost proud of that?

Taylor chuckled. It was a mirthless sound. "It doesn't take a Master to win people's loyalty," she said, with an odd, reminiscent quality to her voice. "I told Miss Militia that, once. I wish I'd listened to myself."

Dragon sighed exasperatedly. "Yes, Taylor, you won our loyalty—by doing incredible things for each of us. How evil. Look—you just saved the city. If you were as evil as you say, why would you do that? What would be the point?"

"Control." The answer came to Taylor readily. Sophia wondered if she'd expected the question.

"Control?" Dragon asked blankly.

"Of course," said Taylor. "Why else? Why would Kaiser espouse a philosophy he has no interest in, which he acknowledges as foolish? He has the money to fund operations without the loyalty of a cult. He craves the control over their hearts and minds that only their beliefs can give him. Just so with me. It didn't matter whether the Bay was a good city or a bad—if it did, I'd never have left Coil in power, or let him keep Narya. What mattered was that I ruled it."

"...Good answer," Dragon admitted grudgingly. "But… you've been a Ward for months! You did fine!"

"Oh, yes," said Taylor. "As well as any alcoholic still in rehab. It's easy not to indulge when you can't remember how. Now I—" her voice cut off with a choked shudder. "I've let that one drop past my lips. I'm hooked again. I don't think—I don't know if I can stop."

"You did stop. You stopped for Shadow Stalker."

"I didn't." Taylor's voice was hoarse, thick with lingering horror. A shiver ran up Sophia's spine. "I—I dealt that blow, that killing blow. The intent was there, and I followed through. In every way that matters, I killed…" Her very throat seemed to close around the words. Sophia found that hers was burning too.

"She's still alive," Dragon said. "Clearly it wasn't a killing blow. It didn't happen, Taylor."

"No, it didn't," Taylor agreed, something deep and tight behind the words, an emotion Sophia couldn't recognize. "And that's not because I pulled the strike, nor because she had the strength to block it. Something gave her that strength, in the moment she needed it. Something allowed Narsil to shatter, and pierce my flesh—again. And it's by that grace alone that she's still alive now."

"You sound almost… religious," Dragon said cautiously.

Taylor snorted. "Do I?" She spoke with an odd humor, quite unlike how she'd sounded the rest of the conversation. "Do I indeed?" She sighed, and the amusement was gone again, as quick as it had come. "I failed, Dragon. And I'm afraid that, if you give me the chance, I'll fail again. I—" There was a pause, then the creak of someone sitting up suddenly in a wooden chair. "You said Sophia was heading down here. Where is she?"

Busted. Sophia stepped out in front of the cell. Taylor stared at her from her seat in the corner of the small room, her back against the concrete wall. On the bed sat a woman in a yellow blouse and blue jeans. Her eyes glowed iridescent blue.

"I was eavesdropping," said Sophia. "I'm sorry."

Dragon's glowing eyes narrowed at her. "Well," she growled. "At least you're honest." At a reproachful look from Taylor, she calmed herself. "You can come in. The door's not locked."

Sophia blinked. Of course no PRT trooper would dare to lock the door on Annatar, she realized. Not that it mattered—Taylor seemed happy to stay behind bars. She stepped forward and put her hand on the door, but didn't open it.

There was a soft chuckle. It took Sophia a moment to realize it was coming from Taylor, sitting up in her cot. It was a dark sound, low and caustic, without a trace of humor. "You're afraid," Taylor said, watching her. "As well you should be."

"Should I not be?" Sophia found herself asking.

"Of course you should," said Taylor. "You'd be a fool not to be afraid. I would have killed you not two hours ago, were it not for that sword and the hand that guided it. I might yet, if I'm not stopped."

Sophia swallowed. "I hoped you'd say 'no'," she admitted.

Taylor's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "I've had enough of lying for a little while," she said.

"Taylor," Dragon said, gipping Taylor's shoulder. "You're not a monster."

Taylor looked down. "I wish you were right," she said quietly, "though it's flattering that you believe it."

"For the record," said Sophia quietly, "I agree with her."

Taylor's head snapped up. Her eyes sought Sophia's. Their gazes met.

"You made mistakes," Sophia said. "You were hurting, and lost, and you lashed out. Fuck, who am I to judge you for that? If I can rise above who I used to be, so can you."

Taylor visibly swallowed. "You think so?"

"I sure hope so," said Sophia. "Otherwise, where the hell am I?"

"You need to do something, Taylor," Dragon said. "You can't stay down here."

Taylor blinked at her. "What? But—"

"The others still need you," Dragon said. "They're tolerating Shadow Stalker, Armsmaster, and their group for now, but that's not likely to continue. No one really wants to change."

Taylor's face fell. "Of course," she murmured. "How could I be so stupid? Of course it wasn't going to be that simple."

"You've been a hero for months. You've gotten rid of monsters who plagued the world for years." Dragon squeezed Taylor's shoulder. "I know you can be a hero. But we need you to get back to it, before things get worse for everyone. We need our leader."

Taylor bit her lip, staring at Sophia. "What do you think, Sophia?" she asked. "Can I be trusted to help?"

Sophia hesitated, but only for a moment. "I think so," she said. "And I'll help you if you want to try."

Taylor gave her a weak smile. "Then—"

Her voice was cut off by the sound of a loud klaxon, echoing through PRT headquarters. A sound Sophia recognized. The Endbringer siren.

Taylor's eyes widened as she jumped to her feet. "What?" she asked. "Behemoth isn't due for another two months, at least!"

"It's not Behemoth," Dragon said, glancing up at the ceiling. She smirked slightly as she looked back down, her eyes meeting Sophia's. "Unknown S-Class threat, and from Coil's base. Sounds like someone missed a spot. Looks like we need you sooner than we expected."

Taylor didn't move for a moment. When she did, it was to bring her hand up to her face. Sophia saw that it was shaking. She looked from it to Sophia. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Can you trust me on the battlefield? Can you trust that I won't stab you in the back?"

"If you were gonna kill me, you'd have done it two hours ago," said Sophia.

"Well said," Dragon said. "Taylor, you go up to meet Piggot and the others. I'll go find Búrzashdurb."

"No!" Taylor said sharply. "No. Not the mace."

"Iphannis, then," Dragon said smoothly. "It should be in your forge. I'll see you upstairs."

She strode out of the room. Sophia stepped away from the door to let her pass. Their eyes met for a moment.

Dragon winked. Thanks for the help, she said, her voice echoing in Sophia's head. For a minute, I was worried you'd spooked her into staying down here. She'll be back on form before we know it.

Then she was gone before Sophia could so much as blink at her.

"Sophia?" Taylor asked. "Is something wrong?"

Sophia shook her head slowly. "No," she said. "Nothing." She looked over at Taylor. There was so much she hadn't said, so much she wanted to say, but the klaxon rang sharp and insistent in her ears. There wasn't time. Not now. "I'll see you upstairs."

Taylor nodded, her face set. Sophia turned away, and began to walk out of the cell block. Just before she was out of sight of the cell, however, Taylor called out, "Wait!"

Sophia turned back. Her eyes caught the green spark in the air. Her hand reached out almost unbidden. Her fingers closed around Cenya.

She met Taylor's solemn gaze, eyes wet with welling tears. "I don't blame you if you don't use it," she said. "But I should not be its keeper. I shouldn't be the one who decides. It's your Ring—you do with it as you see fit. But don't leave it on the road for anyone to pick up."

"I didn't mean to—"

"I know. Don't worry about it." Taylor turned away. "It's in your hands now."

Sophia fled.

End Arc 10: Glory