Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern

Part Fourteen: Moving Along

[A/N 1: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

[A/N 2: Be aware that this fic delves into the personal thoughts and motivations of white supremacists and people who are generally racist, and there may be racist slurs and points of view expressed from time to time. The author does not agree with any of these. You have been warned.]

Medhall Clinic
Rune

"Are you sure you're alright?" Diane Grayson, otherwise known as Othala, leaned in close to inspect Tammi's face. "From what I was told, you took a nasty spill out there."

"Pfft, I'm fine." Tammi waved her cousin away. "It was just a couple of bumps and bruises, and they're all good now." Although there was nobody else in the room, she carefully didn't mention Othala's ability to bestow regeneration. Max might be a boring adult, but his lectures on not talking about cape matters in her civilian identity made sense.

Also, being yelled at sucked balls.

"Okay, good." Diane nodded and let Tammi get up from the examination table. "So, I hear it was the new security guy who saved you. The, uh …" She paused questioningly.

"The black one, yeah." Tammi nodded. "When I first saw him, I thought for sure he was coming to help them, but then he just started kicking the living shit out of those two slant-eyed assholes like it was an Olympic event. I couldn't believe it. I still can't. Not really. I mean, what are you supposed to do when one of them does something like that? Pat them on the head and say, 'That's a good boy, here's a treat'?"

"What, security guards or black guys?" Diane grinned to show it was a joke. They both knew Tammi was talking about the blacks.

"Haha, yeah." Tammi snorted in amusement, because it was actually funny. "Is it true he only got the job because he helped out a couple of the interns?"

"Well, we've only got two interns, but yes." Diane nodded. "I'll introduce you, if you like. They're both around your age. Taylor's a real go-getter. She's managed to impress both Max and Ms Harcourt a few times, and she's the one who raised the alarm about Shadow Stalker being in the building the other day, then figured out that it was Shadow Stalker and warned Bradley and the others."

Tammi's eyes widened. She'd heard a little of this but she'd taken it with a large grain of salt. Ms Harcourt was the most formidable non-cape Tammi had ever personally met, and her force of will was such that the jury was still out on her having a Master power based around pure intimidation. And this 'Taylor' person had actually managed to impress her?

"Well, damn." Tammi was beginning to wonder if it would be a good idea to meet Taylor after all. Someone like that sounded like they had their life totally in order, and they knew exactly where they were going with it. Which wasn't to say Tammi didn't, but … sometimes she wondered a little. Would someone like that be even interested in hanging with someone like me?

"Yes, I'm kind of impressed with her too," Diane noted, taking totally the wrong message from Tammi's silence. "She's also the one who went into the car when Shadow Stalker murdered Justin, and got his girlfriend to safety."

"Okay, yeah, she sounds cool," Tammi said hastily. The image she was building in her mind was something like a teenage non-cape version of Alexandria; someone who didn't need powers to impress Max. Tammi hadn't even met her, and already she was feeling inadequate. "What about the other one?"

"Oh, Greg?" Diane smiled again. "He had a little bit of a rocky start, but he managed to get his act together in the end. Nice kid. Polite."

Okay, so it's nice to hear that only one of them's a superstar in the making. "Polite is good," agreed Tammi. "I like polite."

Diane nodded. "Yes. Ms Harcourt only had positive things to say about him after he saved her and some of the staff from Shadow Stalker. That was right before he captured Stalker himself."

Tammi's jaw dropped. "The fuck? How'd he pull that off?"

"With panache and flair, from what I hear." Diane raised an eyebrow, possibly in amusement at Tammi's astonishment. "Bradley says Greg's got enough promise that he's got Melody giving him close-quarters combat training."

"Well, damn." All that without powers? What am I doing wrong?

Hookwolf

Max slid the beer across the desk to Brad, then leaned back in his chair and raised his glass slightly to look through it. "Well, it seems as though our new hire is turning out better than expected."

Popping the cap off the bottle expertly enough that it landed in the wastepaper basket, Brad chugged about half the contents of the bottle in one hit. He stifled the following burp more out of respect than anything else, then nodded. "Yeah. The Laborn kid's one of the good ones, alright. I thought he might be when he stepped up for young Taylor and Greg, but saving Tammi's ass just proves it as far as I can see. He's respectful, he's smart, he pays attention, he doesn't try to play the race card—" Brad shared a grin with Max over exactly how far that particular ploy would fly in Medhall, "—he's tough, and he can fight. Oh, and when I checked the security footage, he didn't even bother going around the desk. As soon as he saw Tammi was in trouble, he went over it."

"Hmm." Max took a drink from his glass as he seemed to mull that over. "It appears that Ms Hebert's instincts extend beyond analysing paperwork. If this is no fluke and her judgement where it comes to people is equally valid …" He let the notion hang in the air between them.

Brad took a drink from his beer. "The Veder kid," he said when he surfaced. "We were getting ready to cut him loose after his trial period, but she gave him a few pointers. Helped him straighten up and fly right. All we could see were his screwups."

"Whereas she could see deeper. She could see his real potential," Max agreed. "Thus, enabling everything that has followed, including the capture of Shadow Stalker on Medhall premises." He gazed beatifically at the ceiling. "The telephone conversation with Director Piggot was amazing."

Brad chuckled. "Not for her, I bet."

"No." Max's smile never dimmed. "And I imagine it didn't get any better when she had the inevitable conversation with the Chief Director. Personally, I'm astonished she still has her job."

"Fat bitch is better at tap-dancing than we thought," grunted Brad, finishing his beer off. "That, or she knows where a few bodies are buried."

"I strongly suspect that it's a little bit of column A, and a little bit of column B." Max opened the bar fridge and slid another beer across to Brad without so much as looking. "Were you aware that Tammi had her costume and school ID in her bag? If they'd succeeded in getting away with it, she would've been more or less automatically outed, putting most of the Empire in peril and drawing unwelcome attention to Medhall itself."

Brad froze with his thumb pressing against the lower edge of the bottlecap. A chill raced up and down his back as he realised how close they'd come to disaster. "Jesus fuck. No, I didn't. I was right there, and she didn't say word one to me about it. How'd you find out?"

"She let slip to Diane, who passed it on to me." Max sat forward, placing both elbows on the desk. "I understand you've been talking to Ms Hebert and Mr Veder about weekend self-defence training sessions? Go ahead with that, and sign Tammi up as well. Perhaps a few bruises will serve as a reminder."

"My goddamn pleasure." Brad popped the cap off the beer bottle, scoring another three-pointer into the wastepaper basket.

"In fact, while we're at it," Max added, "not just Tammi. I'll be sending Theo your way as well."

Brad raised his eyebrows. The boss' son was usually very much on the protected-species list. "What'd he do to piss you off?"

Max subsided back into his chair and closed his eyes. "I heard a whisper that he was drunk at the wake. Then this morning, he came to me and said to my face that he didn't want to take over Medhall when the time came, and he didn't want to be a part of the Empire Eighty-Eight at all, even if he did end up with powers."

From what little Brad knew of how that sort of thing worked, the last bit was almost certain to happen, given that the ungrateful little shit was third generation. As for the rest of it … that was another thing altogether. He let out a low whistle. "Well, fuck. I wonder who put that wild hair up his ass?"

Max grimaced and rolled the glass across his forehead. "Part of me wants to know so I can crucify whoever it was, and part of me doesn't care. The boy's got a duty to the Anders name, and it's about time he learned what that means."

"So have you thought about setting him up with a Herren girl around the right age?" Brad knew there was a slight risk talking about Theo's love life with his dad, but it seemed the obvious solution. "Once he's got a reason to want to stick around, he might see sense, you know?"

"No, for two reasons." Max raised two fingers in a parody of the victory salute. "One, when my son gets married, it'll be to a cape. Two, he's not interested. They're friendly to him, but he just ignores them."

"Well, shit." Brad could think of three explanations for this. First, maybe the little shit's balls just hadn't dropped yet. Late development was a thing. Second, maybe he was actively avoiding girls with Empire connections for fear it was a setup by his dad—not a totally unwarranted concern, Brad admitted privately. Or third, and least likely (and least palatable), it could be the kid was a swish. Which was something he was never going to suggest, even jokingly. Some things you just didn't say to the boss, no matter how good your working relationship was with him. "So what are you gonna do?"

"Not me," Max said, opening his eyes. "You and Melody. While you're teaching Ms Hebert and Mr Veder how to fight and giving Tammi her reminder to be more careful, you'll also be toughening up Theo and showing him that he can stand on his own two feet. If anyone can do that for him, it'll be the two of you."

"Sure, I can do that." Brad skinned his lips back from his teeth in what might've been mistaken for a smile in poor light. "But I bet Taylor and Greg are gonna pick it up faster than Tammi and Theo."

Max snorted and shook his head. "I believe they call that a 'sucker bet'. Mr Veder's got a head start, but Ms Hebert has determination in spades. They'll be focused and learning while Tammi and Theo are still complaining about being there at all." He snapped his fingers. "And see if Laborn is amenable to helping out as well. It'll give you a working baseline on how good that boy really is, and he'll be able to keep Ms Hebert and Mr Veder busy while you and Melody are giving our two the close and personal attention they'll almost certainly be needing."

Brad grinned. Max's idea meant at least one sparring session with Laborn, and it had been way too long since he'd gone at it with someone, no powers involved. This was gonna be fun.

While he was taking a drink from the fresh beer, a question occurred to him. "So, is this whole thing supposed to be about toughening up your kid, making sure Tammi never fucks up like that again, or so your favourite interns can kick ass when and if necessary?"

Max finished the glass and gave him a self-satisfied look. "I believe it's called killing three birds with one stone. Now, I'm sure I can trust you to break the news to Tammi as gently as you feel like."

Brad smirked. "I can definitely break it to her."

Tuesday Morning
Winslow
Taylor

"Hey, Greg."

"Hey, Taylor."

I gave him a kiss on the cheek; it seemed the thing to do. Nobody around us made any comments, though we would've ignored them anyway if they had. In the absence of physical bullying, mere verbal harassment was basically nothing.

In any case, Greg's standing at Winslow seemed to have risen dramatically since the footage came out of him beating the snot out of Sophia. Not just among the guys we were pretty sure were Empire Eighty-Eight (and were still assiduously ignoring), but also with other people she'd snubbed and pushed aside along the way. I didn't care; he could be friendly with other people all he liked, but I was the one he ate lunch with.

Our friendship might not have been forged in fire and blood, but it was close enough. (I may have printed out a still of him clocking Sophia with the fire extinguisher, just to take out of my pocket and look at from time to time). We had each other's backs, and that was that.

"So, did they tell you the good news yet?" he asked. It was a measure of both how much he'd matured and how well I knew him that his excitement was abundantly clear to me, even though he wasn't hopping around like a terrier anxious to go walkies.

"Well, I've been told some good news," I said. "What've you been told?"

"Bradley got back to me on the training thing," he said. "Saturday afternoon at Medhall, you and me both, if you still want to come along. Him and Melody and Brian are going to be teaching us self defense, as well as Theo and that girl Brian rescued on the steps."

I'd heard about Brian's daredevil rescue, though I didn't know any details about the girl. "That's amazing," I said, and hugged him. "Thanks for putting in a good word for me."

"Oh, I didn't have to." He shrugged. "Bradley just asked me if I thought you wanted to be in on it, and I said I was pretty sure you did, but I'd ask anyway."

"Hell yes, I do," I agreed. "I wonder who the girl is, that she gets in on this too?"

"Oh, uh, she's someone's cousin, I think," he said, a little less assuredly. "Medhall's like one big family, only not dysfunctional. They all look out for each other."

"We all look out for each other," I corrected him. "We're Medhall too, remember?"

"Yeah, I know." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I have to keep reminding myself when I'm at Winslow, because it's so damn cool and I have trouble believing that this is us."

"Don't I know it," I sighed. "Medhall's the best damn thing that ever happened to us."

"So, what's your good news?" he asked. "Are we getting a limo to school or something?"

I snorted and elbowed him in the ribs; he was already chuckling at his own joke.

"Don't I wish. No, this is even better. Mr Grayson is awake and lucid. He'll be able to testify that Sophia shot him. They called last night and told me that he wants to thank both of us in person tomorrow when we come in."

"Damn." Greg looked suitably impressed. "The level of care in Medhall's clinic must be off the charts. So he's gonna make a full recovery?"

"Well, they were already saying that," I agreed, "but yeah, that's definitely what it looks like. I'm really pleased for him and his wife."

"That's who the girl's related to!" Greg snapped his fingers suddenly. "Mr Grayson's wife! She works in the infirmary sometimes. They're cousins or something. I, uh, got told and I forgot."

"That's okay," I said generously. He got things right ninety-nine percent of the time these days, so I was willing to forgive him a tiny lapse like that.

Well, to be honest, I'd be willing to forgive a lot more than that. Without the pressure on both of us from the Winslow pecking order, and after the maintenance crew had finished with him, he'd actually turned out to be someone it was a lot of fun to be around. Our Fugly's meet-up had been thoroughly enjoyable, and we'd walked along the beach afterward. I was actually looking forward to our next date.

… date?

My brain skidded to a halt with an entirely imaginary screeching sound. Equally imaginary smoke curled out my ears.

Am I dating Greg?

Are we a couple?

Is he my boyfriend?

Up until this point, I'd been getting along quite comfortably with the idea that Greg was just a good friend. A really good friend, sure, but not my boyfriend, anymore than I was his girlfriend. We were … just friends … who only went out with each other … and nobody else.

And when I'd seen him just now, I'd kissed him on the cheek because it felt perfectly natural.

Doing my best to restrain the mad flailing of my brain, I went back over the questions I'd just asked myself. For each one, the answer 'yes' seemed to be the most logical choice. Far more than 'no', anyway.

"Um … Taylor?" Greg peered at me with concern. "Are you okay? I think you're hyperventilating."

"I'm not sure," I said. "Greg … don't take this question the wrong way … but are we dating?"

He blinked, looking more than a little startled. "I … uh, I hadn't thought about it like that. Do … do you want us to be dating?"

"I'm not sure." I seemed to be saying that a lot. "I really like what we've got right now. Can we call it 'dating' without it being weird?"

"Yeah." He nodded in relief. "Yeah, we can. Absolutely. Non-weird dating. Totally a fan."

"Good." I looked up as the home-room bell went. "Oh, uh, that's us. See you in World Affairs?"

His sudden grin gave me the hint as to what he was going to say next. "It's a date."

I rolled my eyes. "Dork." But I said it fondly, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. That was what people who were dating did, right? Right. "See you then."

As I headed off down the corridor toward Mrs Knott's Computer Studies classroom I felt as though I was dancing on air. We're dating!

A Few Hours Later
Winslow
Greg

"… and that concludes today's lesson." Mr Gladly looked up as the bell rang. "Don't forget; five hundred words tomorrow on the destabilising factors in the Colombia/Brazil skirmish."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Greg murmured to Taylor as they got up from their desks. "He more or less laid it out for us in detail." It was amazing how much easier this stuff was when he was actually paying attention.

"True," agreed Taylor. "If you want to go on ahead, I just need to talk to him for a second."

"I'm good. I can wait." As far as Greg was concerned, so long as people like Julia were around, Winslow was hostile territory. His job was to watch Taylor's back, just like she watched his. When she'd asked him if they were dating, it was like one of those weird magic eye puzzles had just fallen into focus. He totally understood what she'd meant when she said she liked things the way they were. So did he.

I'm the luckiest guy in Winslow.

Mr Gladly looked up as Taylor approached him. "Ah," he said. "You're here to reclaim the book?" To Greg's ear, he sounded a little disappointed.

"Yes, sir," Taylor confirmed. "We're still working out exactly who wrote it, so I'd be happier if I had my hands on it until then."

"Understood." Mr Gladly started rummaging around in his desk. "It would be a pity to see a masterpiece like this go unpublished, though."

Taylor nodded. "I know, and I'm going to be asking someone about that tomorrow. I can let you know on Thursday what the situation is. They may be okay with it, and they may not."

"That's fair." Mr Gladly chuckled wryly. "I've been trying to read through it and grasp the idea as a whole, but every time I hit a new level of the plan, I just have to give up and go back to the beginning. Whoever wrote it, I'd hate to play chess against them. Ah, there it is." Unearthing the Book, he handed it over to Taylor. "Thank you for the loan."

"You're welcome, sir." Taylor carefully tucked the Book away in her pack, then turned toward Greg. "What do you say we go and get some lunch?"

"That's fine with me." Greg led the way out of the classroom, then fell into step alongside Taylor as they headed for the cafeteria. "But I think I'll stick with what Mom packed for me. I still think the mystery meat waved at me last Thursday."

Taylor shuddered theatrically. "Yeah, I'll pass on that too. The biggest mystery about that stuff is how they get anyone to eat it."

"Haha, yeah, I—"

Greg broke off as half a dozen older students emerged from a side-corridor and blocked their way. There were four guys and two girls; from their manner, this was not an accidental meeting. While Greg was a little more buff than he'd been before he started the internship, he knew for a fact that any two of them could kick his ass with ease, despite the training he'd been getting from Bradley and Melody.

"Veder, Hebert," said the oldest guy, who looked old enough to be a senior. "We've been waiting to hear back from you about our offer. Kind of rude to ghost us like that, don't you think?"

"Offer?" asked Taylor. Greg knew her well enough to see through her façade of surprise as her eyes widened slightly behind her glasses. "Oh, that note was you guys. What was that all about, anyway? We couldn't figure it out and we don't like going into stuff blind."

"Wasn't it obvious?" The oldest kid began talking; from the sound of it, he was following a script in his head. "We're the only ones standing between Brockton Bay and the degenerates and filth that infest the gutters. The blacks, the Asians, the Hispanics and the rest of them. Hess was just the tip of the iceberg. You need the protection of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and we need people who can fight the good fight."

Greg knew a cue when he saw one. "Um, well, seeing how Sophia's been arrested and all, it looks like the problem's solved." Shrugging, he added, "Sorry, guys. No offense, but we're not interested."

"Well, you should be interested." The older kid moved forward and more or less loomed over Greg. "People like Hess are a menace who don't belong in polite society, but she's not the only one. Once the rest of her kind hear about what you've done, they're likely to be coming to take you down. It's a matter of safety in numbers."

Taylor stepped up alongside Greg, her jaw thrust out. "That's all well and good, but where was your 'safety in numbers' when Sophia was screwing me over on a daily basis?" It was the perfect answer to knock this guy off-script, and Greg could've kissed her for it. With her permission, of course.

While the hamster was still getting up to speed in the bigger kid's brain, Mr Gladly came around the corner. "Taylor," he said. "Greg. Are you alright?" The subtext was as clear as a bell: are you being bullied?

"We're fine," Taylor replied, heading toward the teacher. Greg followed, mainly because she had a firm grip on his hand. "Just having a little exchange of views. Nothing to be worried about."

"Good," Mr Gladly said, not without a certain amount of relief. "Principal Blackwell would hate to need the police called again for this sort of thing."

Whether he'd intended for this effect or not, the word 'police' did its job, and the would-be recruiters dispersed. Greg and Taylor watched them go, then Taylor turned to Mr Gladly. "Good timing, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it, but what exactly did I interrupt?" Mr Gladly looked down the corridor in the direction that they'd gone. "Were they trying to steal your lunch money or something?"

"Not exactly," Taylor said. "Let's just say … it was an overly enthusiastic attempt to recruit us into an after-school club. Of sorts."

Greg had to admire the way she'd worded it; she hadn't mentioned the Empire Eighty-Eight even once, but Gladly would easily be able to figure out what she wasn't saying. No snitching involved, and it gave him an out, so he didn't have to officially notice it.

The teacher's head came up at the same time as his eyes widened slightly. "Ah," he said. "Is this likely to become a problem?"

Greg translated that one easily enough, too. Do I have to tell Principal Blackwell that the Empire is trying to recruit you two?

"Not for me," Taylor said. "I'm going to be transferring to Arcadia just as soon as they can finish expediting the paperwork."

"And I'll be fine," Greg assured them. "If they start pushing too hard, I'll sic Bradley on them."

"Warn me first," Taylor said. "I'm going to want popcorn for that."

Mr Gladly tilted his head a little. "And 'Bradley' is …?"

"He works security at Medhall," Greg explained with some relish. "And the amount of crap he takes from anyone is slightly less than zero."

"He showed up to save me and Greg from Sophia and Emma and Madison that one time," Taylor added. "When Sophia started beating Madison up, he put her in time-out so fast her head was still spinning five minutes later. It was amazing. A bunch of uh, kids like that?" She snapped her fingers. "He wouldn't even break a sweat."

"I'll, uh, take your word for it." Mr Gladly was clearly in the loop about what had gone down in Blackwell's office. "If they keep bothering you, let me or one of the other teachers know, okay?"

Taylor's smirk was a little bitter, in Greg's opinion. Not that she was unjustified; the only reason that Winslow was bending over backward so hard to help them out now was that they'd been caught so hard on the back foot by Bradley and Mr Grayson. They were absolutely going to be smashed big-time by the legal penalties, but they knew it could get exponentially worse. Thus, the tap-dancing act.

"Sure," she said. "We'll do that."

"Good, good." Mr Gladly headed off in the general direction of the office, leaving Taylor and Greg to make their way toward the cafeteria.

Greg took a deep breath. "Well, that happened."

"It did." Taylor gave him a concerned look. "Are you sure you'll be okay here without me?"

He rolled his eyes. "You won't be here, so duh, no. I'm gonna want total deets on how you're going at Arcadia, by the way."

"Doofus." She elbowed him in the ribs. "I mean, with the Empire assholes."

"I'll be fine. So long as the PRT manages to keep hold of Sophia this time around, and she doesn't come to Winslow looking for me so I have to beat her unconscious with a folding chair or something …" He paused to draw breath, then looked up at the stained ceiling. "And no, that wasn't a challenge." His attention switched back to Taylor. "What I'm saying is that so long as I don't get their attention again, they'll lose interest in me soon enough."

"Well, I hope so." She slid her arm through his, and held it close. "I'm really getting used to having you around."

"Me too," he blurted, then stumbled over his own words. "Uh, I mean, it's really nice having you around, too."

"Good." She didn't let go of his arm. "So, what do you want to do Sunday?"

"Movie," he said decisively. "Or a nice quiet stroll along the Boardwalk. Because I can guarantee we're not going to be up to anything physically challenging after Bradley and Melody have finished with us on Saturday afternoon."

"Cool. Movie it is."

Together, they entered the cafeteria.

That Afternoon
Medhall Building
Rune

Tammi stared at Bradley. "What?" She'd heard him perfectly well; she just didn't believe what he was saying.

He folded his arms and glowered at her. "You're going to be attending combat training. This weekend. No ducking out of it. Kaiser's orders."

"But … but why?" She knew why, alright. Othala snitched. But it was ever her way to try to beat punishment with feigned ignorance. It had worked more than once, too. If they didn't know everything you'd done, there was no sense in making their job easier by confessing.

His lip curled. "One, you ditched class. That sort of thing draws attention. We don't want you drawing attention. Two, you had your costume in the same bag as something that could've been used to identify you. If those pricks had gotten away with your bag, it would've been bad for everyone, not just you. And three, I watched the footage. You made the situation worse with no fucking backup. If you'd just kept your fucking mouth shut, none of this would've happened. You didn't, so now you get a combat training refresher."

"They were just chinks!" she burst out. "They were nothing! Why should I be polite to them?"

His hand lashed out and wrapped around her throat. "Protective camouflage," he growled. "When you're in costume, you can treat them any way you like. Drop cars on them, for all I care. But when you're out of costume, when you're Tammi, you've got to pretend to be the same as everyone else. I thought you already knew this, you stupid little cow."

She fought for breath, even though she knew he wasn't really squeezing hard yet. "Okay," she managed. "Got it. Polite."

"Good." He let her go, then paused, an evil grin spreading across his face. "Oh, and you know Laborn? The guard who rescued your sorry ass from your own stupid trouble?"

She nodded, even though she was still having trouble reconciling the idea of Medhall letting one of them work alongside everyone else like an equal. Bradley was right; he had pulled her ass out of the fire. But that didn't mean she had to like him, or even respect him. You didn't give a guard dog extra praise for just doing its job, after all. "What about him?"

"He's gonna be there, helping me and Melody do the training," Bradley told her, his tone full of sadistic relish. "So you gotta be as polite to him as you are to me and her. And when he gives you an order, you gotta do it."

Her response was automatic. "Like fuck I will!"

Pain exploded across the right side of her face as she was driven off her feet to the left. Face down on the floor, she felt the rush of blood in her ears. Leaning down, Bradley picked her up by her shirt front. This close to his face, she could see tiny blades poking out of his skin around his eye-sockets. "I didn't hear you right," he growled with infinite menace. "I'm pretty sure you just said you'd do what you're told. Didn't you?"

She shook her head to try to clear it. "Wait'll … wait'll I tell Kaiser you're making me do what a—"

He sneered in her face. "It was his fuckin' idea. So you'll do exactly what Laborn orders you to do, and maybe next time you won't nearly bring down the whole fuckin' Empire Eighty-Eight."

There was no way out of it. She had no doubt that Kaiser had given the order. It sounded exactly like one of the boss' bullshit head-game plays. Even if it wasn't, as the junior member of the Empire Eighty-Eight, she lacked any sort of seniority, and had to follow Hookwolf's orders anyway.

She slumped in defeat. "Okay, fine. But I can't believe you're actually making me do this."

He cuffed her again, much more lightly this time. "Suck it up. You made your mistake. Now do what you gotta do to make up for it, and we'll be done. Keep whining and shit will keep happening. Got it?"

This totally sucked huge donkey balls, but she didn't want to get hit again. "Got it."

Wednesday Afternoon
Medhall Building
Taylor

I didn't know if it was just me, but the world seemed a brighter place as Greg and I crossed the sidewalk and climbed the steps to the front doors of Medhall. I held his hand until we got inside, where we let go by mutual silent agreement. We had to present a professional front, after all.

Admitting to ourselves that we were dating—that we were an item—had been like both the most obvious step in the world and the biggest, all at the same time. I'd never seriously expected to be dating someone who felt the same way about me as I did about them, and I was pretty sure Greg hadn't either. Until we'd started interning at Medhall, he'd barely even known how to talk to girls, much less relate to us. But once I took the time to give him a little coaching, he'd come a long way in a short time.

We weren't flaunting our newfound relationship in Winslow; even after taking down Shadow Stalker, Greg preferred to keep a low profile. Between girls who wanted to get to know Void Cowboy now that he was actually cool, and the Empire guys who wanted him as a recruit, it was easier for him just to keep his head down.

Diane Grayson was actually waiting in the lobby for us when we walked into Medhall. "Oh, good," she said. "You're here. Alex has been asking about you."

"I'm just happy he's going to recover," I said. "When I first saw him, with that arrow sticking out of his chest …" I shuddered. It had been a viscerally horrifying moment.

"Well, I'm just glad you did," Mrs Grayson said as we went through the security scans. The guards—Brian wasn't on at the moment—gave us nods of recognition as we headed on to the elevators. "Locking his office door saved both your lives, I think. Shadow Stalker was trying not to out herself, so she couldn't just ghost through it."

"She absolutely tried to kick it down," I agreed, recalling the damage she'd done to the outside. "It's a good thing he didn't cut costs with one of those cheap ones."

"Yeah," agreed Greg. "He doesn't strike me as someone who settles for second best." We stepped into the elevator, and Mrs Grayson hit the button for the clinic level.

"Well, no, he isn't," she said, a note of pride in her voice. "Of course, now that it's actually saved his life, he'll be insufferable to live with."

I put my hand on her arm briefly. "I'm just glad he's alive."

"That's true," she said; this time, her smile was less wan.

The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, letting us out into a familiar corridor. This time, there was a distinct lack of armed guards and tense atmosphere. It was almost silent, with only a faint electronic cycling noise in the background.

With Mrs Grayson in the lead, we headed through the corridors to where her husband awaited in his bed. Despite the cords and tubes hooked up to him, he looked a lot more alive than he had last I'd seen him, and when he raised his eyes to where we were, his flashing grin took away a lot of my worries. "Taylor!" he said cheerfully. "Greg! I understand you two are the heroes of the hour, and deservedly so."

"Greg's the one who saved Ms Harcourt and beat up Sophia," I said, determined not to sound like I was trying to grab credit. "I just figured out what was going on and let Bradley know."

"Taylor, Taylor, Taylor," Mr Grayson chided me gently. "You do realise that one of the reasons we hold you in such high esteem is your ability to figure things out so readily, yes? But of course, I'm not in the least bit surprised it was Greg who ended up taking out the trash. Bullies like Sophia Hess tend to lack critical judgement skills, so they often get caught out by taking on more than they can handle."

"I guess," mumbled Greg. "Though I still don't know who got the photo of the hole in the ironing board and put it up on the wall in the break room."

"Oh, that reminds me," I said. "Mr Grayson, Mrs Grayson, have you seen the footage of Greg knocking Sophia out?"

Mrs Grayson nodded. "I have," she confirmed, giving Greg an approving look. "I was very impressed. You thought fast."

"Well, I haven't." Mr Grayson hitched himself a little higher in the bed, an exercise that caused a wince to cross his features. "Though I've been promised a showing on the big screen in Conference Room One as soon as I'm healthy enough to walk up there."

"Well, it's not the big screen, but here's a still I printed out," I said, digging into my back pocket.

Greg's eyes widened. "Taylor, you didn't."

I raised one eyebrow at him as I handed the folded piece of paper to Mr Grayson. "Nobody said I couldn't. And I like to look at it when you're not around."

Mr Grayson unfolded it, and even Mrs Grayson leaned in to have a look. The image had captured Greg from the side as he swung the fire extinguisher and connected with Sophia's head. The expression of oh fuck on her face was priceless, and I wasn't the only one who liked it; apparently it had gone viral as a meme on PHO. The moment she knew when she done fucked up was one of the more common captions.

"I still can't believe you did that," Greg said, then peered at the paper himself. "Okay, yeah, wow. I do look kinda badass, don't I?"

"That you do, young Veder," Mr Grayson agreed, folding the paper up again. "Taylor, thank you very much for that. You have sincerely made my day with that image."

"You're welcome," I said awkwardly, putting it back in my pocket. "Sophia made my life hell for so long, it's kind of cathartic to be able to remind myself that she's well and truly behind bars, and exactly how embarrassing it has to be that Greg took her down the way he did. Especially with how little regard she held him in."

Greg had raised a finger in protest halfway through my little speech, then he lowered it as I put my arm around his waist. "Well, yeah," he agreed. "She did kind of look down on me a lot."

"Which just shows how ill-informed she was," Mr Grayson said. "Between the two of you, you saved Medhall a tremendous amount of trouble, and you saved my life as well as potentially several others. I don't think any of that is pure luck or happenstance. Here at Medhall, we like to recognise and reward skill and talent, and that's why you've got the positions that you do."

I shrugged. I'd been getting more than a little praise of this type since commencing my internship at Medhall, but it still felt decidedly weird. "I honestly didn't know how things would turn out when I got here. I definitely didn't expect it to be like this."

Greg chuckled. "Let's be realistic. You expected me to screw it up for you, didn't you? Because the way I was messing around, that was something that totally could've happened. I'm personally surprised that I'm still here."

I tightened the arm I had around his waist. "Well, you are, and I'm glad of it." I could even recall the first time he'd really stepped up for me, loaning me his phone to call ahead when Emma and Sophia had tried to stop me from getting to Medhall for the second day of internship.

"I think everyone is." Mrs Grayson checked her watch. "However, I believe it's time you two went upstairs and actually started earning your salaries. Thank you for coming down, though."

"It was totally my pleasure," I said, nodding to Mr Grayson. "I'm glad to see you're doing as well as you are."

"Me too," added Greg. "If I'd known she'd hurt you so badly, I probably would've hit her a second time."

Mr Grayson chuckled, then winced again. "Word to the wise. In situations like this, laughter is not the best medicine. But yes, it was very good to see you two. I'm glad to see you're doing well."

We said our goodbyes and headed back along the corridor to the elevator. Greg elbowed me in the arm and murmured, "I can't believe you kept a picture like that, and didn't tell me!"

"What?" I asked. "Are you really mad about that? I thought you were just putting it on."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, where's my copy? Framed, for preference."

I was still laughing as we stepped into the elevator.

End of Part Fourteen