August 31st, 2041, National City
Taylor surveys their room one last time, trying to memorise the details that have been inconsequential for so many years of their life yet so important in making the place their own. The light blue walls, the corner bed, the overflowing bookshelves, the sanded down floorboard, the picture of their mums on the bedside table, the little shrine to Rao ; they've never lived anywhere that isn't here for longer than a summer. They aren't reconsidering their decision, far from it, but it would be lying saying they won't miss home when they'll be light years away from it.
Their mothers' voices drift from the living room. Taylor can hear fretting, their Yeyu fidgeting ; and skin rubbing on fabric, their Mum trying to comfort her.
"Taylor will be fine," their Mum says softly, her voice lilting around the words.
"I know that," their Yeyu sighs. "Taylor is always fine. It's just..."
"Space travel ?"
"Yeah, space travel. I don't have the best track record with that and I'm worried. Aren't you worried ?"
"Of course I am. But you're more worried than I am, and one of us as to stay level headed."
"Rao. I love you."
Fabric shifts on fabric and Taylor smiles. Sometimes it feels like they've never seen their mothers not hugging or touching in some way.
"I know you do darling. I love you too."
And that's the reason why Taylor can allow themself to disappear for three years ; their mums have each other, always, and they won't be alone.
"Can't believe I'm about to shoot my baby into space," their Yeyu says, her voice muffled in the crook of their Mum's neck. "I thought that was an El family trait I'd manage to dodge."
Taylor sighs longly. They knew this was going to be a problem, their Yeyu's intrinsic fear of getting lost in space-time. When the first hyperspace way to Earth was open, she cried herself into panic and neither Supergirl nor Lena Luthor-Danvers made it to the ceremony. But it's something that Taylor has to do. They've been coddled their whole life, on their own accord sure, but it's time they learn to fly on their own, and this will have to happen light years away from home, in the middle of nowhere. They are not afraid of space. The universe is majestic, its quietness welcomed, and its vastness somehow reassuring in its constant reminder that there is something bigger than them. Bigger than their insecurities, bigger than the constant noise in their head, bigger than being the prodigy child of the brightest minds of their time. Space is bigger than Taylor, and it's reassuring.
With one last glance around and a quick look inside of their bag, Taylor exits their room, leaving the door open ; it doesn't take being a genius to know their mums will be sleeping there tonight.
The ride to the DEO is mostly quiet. Soft jazz plays in the car and Taylor wonders if they'll miss the sounds of Earth, the swishing of the airlink train, the screeching of car tires, the constant chatter of conversations. Probably not, they think. Noise is something they never quite got over, something they never quite managed to tune out. From the moment their superhearing developed, this planet has been a bit overwhelming. Their Yeyu's heart spikes up when their Mum brushes her hand against her thigh and maybe that's one sound Taylor will miss, the soft patter of their mothers' hearts.
The DEO's hangar is packed with most of Taylor's loved ones. Their aunts Alex and Kelly are here with their son Jem and his boyfriend, and their foster kid Lee. Alex stands ramrod straight, trying to project the confidence suitable for the director of the DEO, but Taylor can see her fingers twitching nervously. Aunt Diana made the trip from Themyscira and she's eyeing aunt Sam like she's a five course meal ; Taylor frowns at that, her bonkers family is worse than that old L Word show. Aunt Nia, as gorgeous as ever, stands next to uncle Brainy who keeps his eyes trailed on the toddler running around the room. Grandma Eliza and grandpa J'onn are here too, their figures warm and reassuring as ever. There's only one person missing, but that's bound to happen in a family almost exclusively constituted of superheroes.
Taylor's already personally said goodbye to all of them, and so after a round of quick hugs and a couple of deep breaths, they step inside of the ship, their mothers trailing after them.
"I've uploaded the itinerary," their Mum says, her nervousness visible in the way she triple checks the settings of a ship she designed herself. "So you should be fine but just in case, do you remember which way to go ?"
Taylor sighs, barely repressing an eye roll. "Yep," they say, "I'm taking the N52 off Earth up to the jump point, then it's hyperspace way R to the 2814 hub and a twelve hours flight to the Crucible portal. I'll be fine. And you'll be able to follow my trip from here, in real time."
"Alright," their Mum says, raising her hands in surrender. "Alright, I trust you."
"Be careful, okay ?" their Yeyu reminds softly.
"I'll be careful. I promise. And I'll come back super badass."
"You're already badass," their Mum laughs.
"Rao, I'm going to miss you aonah."
"I'm going to miss you too Yeyu."
With not much warning, Taylor finds themself engulfed in a bone crushing hug, their Mum's more delicate arms wrapping themselves around them a moment later.
"Call us when you land," she says in their ear. "We love you."
Taylor's throat constricts. Three years in outer space ; no big deal.
Earth year 2041, Crucible Academy
Crucible Academy is fucking huge. That's about the only thing Taylor can think about. When they approach, and when they dock, and later, when they disembark ; the one thing they really notice, is that the school is gigantic. The building consists of one uninterrupted ring orbiting around a small artificial red sun, and though some parts stick out like they've been added as an afterthought, the school projects a crushing majesty that causes Taylor to forget how to breathe for a full minute.
The main hall, lit with various coloured led lights, is bustling with activity, students of all origins rushing between classrooms ; and as Taylor trails after preceptor Lys Amata, they realise that for the first time ever, they are not the weirdest person in the room. A red alien, akin to a giant cockroach, groans when they past by them, and further down the all, a wolflike individual playfully jostles a tall and tan anthropomorphic bombshell in an out of place flannel shirt who wields her sword as well as an Amazon.
"Maxima," the preceptor barks when she walks past them, "no weapon in the corridors."
The alien grumbles something under her breath, but the sword recedes into nothing more than a pen and Taylor can't help but let out an impressed sound. "No weapon in the corridors," they repeat, "noted."
The living quarters are situated opposite the main entrance and by the time they get there, Taylor is almost out of breath, unaccustomed to going around without powers. "So," Lys Amata says, when they step inside after the door has disappeared into the wall, "this is your room. As the kryptonian champion, it has been modelled after the fashion of this late planet. You can of course rearrange it to your taste should you feel nostalgic of your Earth parentage. Food is served all day in the mess hall and your schedule has been uploaded to your tablet. If you require guidance, my door is always open. Welcome to Crucible Academy Lor-El, I see brilliance in your future here."
Winded by the speech and the trip, Taylor does little more than nod to acknowledge the onslaught of informations, and once left alone, it takes great effort not to simply collapse on the bed and take a five years nap. Instead, they take in their new room, their home for the next three or so Earth years. It's almost perfectly circular, the wall only giving way on the right to deep into a shallow alcove that hosts a decent sized bed. In its centre the room deeps in three steps and houses a low table and plushy inviting chairs. There's a desk opposite the bed. It protrudes from the wall like nothing more than an extension of it and on its surface lays a small square box, a hologram communication device.
It comes to life with a touch of the hand and with a couple more tweaks, two faces flicker to life. At the sight, Taylor feels a knot loosen in their chest that they didn't know was there in the first place. Immediately, their mothers start firing questions after questions and they mash around in their brain with little chance of understanding a single one of them. "Guys," Taylor tries to interrupt, "guys ! Slow down."
"Sorry," their Yeyu says with a teary eyed smile. "How are you ?"
"Fine, but tired," Taylor answers after a moment of reflexion, choosing to display the least complicated of the thoughts swirling around their head. "Oh, and hungry," they add when their stomach grumbles with perfect timing.
"Go eat then," their Mum says with a fond eye roll, "we can catch up later, once you're settled."
"I'd like to talk to you for a moment first," Taylor admits, "if that's okay. I'll go get dinner later. Or lunch. Breakfast ? I don't know what time it is."
"9pm here," their Mum supplies, "but I don't know how that convert to space time. Let me check."
"Have you made any friends yet ?" their Yeyu suddenly asks, the question almost incongruously timed if it weren't for the lip gnawed by worried teeth that speaks of her fear of her child not settling well so far from home.
"Yeyu," Taylor sighs affectionately, brushing their hand through their messy hair, "I've been there for five minutes."
"Right. Sorry, you know me, I just worry."
"I know, but I'm okay for now. And if I'm not, I promise I'll call you."
They end up talking well into the evening, Taylor skipping dinner in favour of figuring out a high end food fabricator embedded in the smooth wall. The potstickers don't really taste like the ones back home, but they're not bad. They disconnect late, only pushed to doing so by their insistent mothers, and sleep doesn't come easily. The bed is different, almost too soft and not properly tucked into a corner. The room is too silent, the red sun dampening Taylor's hearing to the point that even the sound of ventilation is not bothering them ; they thought it would be welcomed, but they're unused to the absence of noise. They toss and turn restlessly, bouts of sleep bringing strange dreams, until morning comes and disaster strikes.
It starts with a medical check up, where they are probed and poked and searched for any kind of disease and left with no time for breakfast and no choice but running across the school in the hope of eventually stumbling upon the training room for their sparring lesson. Instead, they crash head first into a woman shaped brick wall, and frustration boils over. They barely have the time to recognise the sword wielding alien from the prior day before angry words that they don't really intend tumble out of their mouth.
"Oi ! Watch where you're fucking going !"
"Are you okay ?" Maxima asks in a perfectly rough voice.
A burning hand comes to steady Taylor and they shake it off furiously. "Don't touch me."
"You know, when people bump into other people, they usually apologise."
Taylor feels like a fucking child and they hate it. Dozens of retort accumulate on the tip of their tongue but before they can spew any of them, Maxima bypasses them haughtily. "Training room's that way," she says curtly before disappearing around a corner, her muscles taunt and threatening under her faded inapposite The Cranberries t-shirt.
Training doesn't go much better. Taylor is paired with Maxima, because of course the universe would play them like that, and finds themself on their ass more often than not. The teacher, a surprisingly graceful seven foot boulder gives good advice, but Taylor is too frustrated to apply any of it. Maxima is a tireless war machine. She moves with dangerous precision, her punches hurting just one notch above what is acceptable until Taylor all but refuses to get back up again.
Class ends shortly after that and they drag themself to a spacious gender neutral changing room. They make quick work of changing back into day clothes but can't help but linger, feeling like they might owe an apology to Maxima. Their eyes trail lazily around the room taking in the shameless students who change in front of each other regardless of their anatomy. They try to keep their gaze above the belt, but some silhouettes are too ambiguous for them to really be sure what they're looking at. "It takes some getting used to," a voice suddenly says as a hand is thrusted into their sightline. "I'm Adam. Adam Blake. Post-human. Champion of Earth. Would you like to eat lunch with my friends and I ?"
Lunch is a terrible affair, but at this point, Taylor isn't even surprised. It takes them forty five minutes to navigate the mess hall trying to find anything edible all the while Adam trails after them and keeps a steady stream of one way conversation. He introduces two wolves, for lack of a better word, outgoing Tsavo and broody Roho, with whom they sit in almost peaceful companionship until Maxima shows up, sitting gracefully across from Taylor. "Gods," she says, "I don't know where they found this Lor-El but..." Adam elbows her in the ribs and she stops abruptly, taking stock of the newest member of the group.
Two paths open in front of Taylor, and they choose to walk the wrong one. Any other day, they would have asked Rao for strength, breathed deeply and let it go, but today isn't a good day. Today, their skin is bristling and they miss home and they feel sick and tired and this mighty warrior is getting on their nerves. "What's up with you anyway Cranberries uh ? Did you get lost in the fucking 90's ?"
The jab isn't even good, and Taylor chooses to end the argument by shovelling pasta into their mouth. Across from them Maxima stares, confused and Adam has to offer an explanation for her. "I think they insulted your fashion sense."
The table shakes when Maxima gets up, her body trembling with a sad sort of anger, and even before she opens her mouth, Taylor knows they've fucked up in a major way. "This garment," Maxima snarls, "belonged to my late father, rightful king of Almerac. Show some respect Kryptonian." She's out of sight before Taylor can even consider apologising.
"So," Tsavo says, his snoot twisting into a small smile, "we should have warned you, but the princess's got a bit of a temper. That being said, what you said wasn't cool."
The rest of the day is uneventful, but it's too late for it to get any better and Taylor just feels out of place. They don't fare too bad in their pre-galactic alliance history class, and the intro to an intergalactic language course is not uninteresting, but all Taylor wants is to go home. They think that it might have been too soon to leave, that at eighteen they should have stayed home with their mothers and get another Earth degree instead of insisting on playing hero. Sure, an invitation to study at Crucible is an once in a lifetime opportunity, but right now it weights nothing against a hug from their Yeyu.
They end the day on the bed, huddled against a scruffy shark plushy and with soft jazz filling the room. They ache in a strange way, feeling hollow and untethered, and the sight of space and the artificial sun outside the window doesn't help. Instead of being comforting, the immensity of the universe is suddenly overbearing, and Taylor has never felt so small. On the desk, the holo comms light up and with a sigh, they cross the room to answer the call. They hesitate though, their hand hovering over it like not answering will make them a bigger, stronger, adult ; but the moment they accept the call, they know it was the right decision.
"Oh honey," their Mum says with a sad smile, "what's wrong ?"
"I didn't have the best of days," Taylor admits in a small voice.
An impressively large glass of wine briefly appears on the hologram and their Mum takes a short sip out of it. "Do you want to talk about it ?"
Before Taylor can answer though, the background blurs and their Yeyu drops next to their Mum, hair messy and grin wide. "Hey sweetheart. Sorry I was in the shower. Fought a twelve foot liquid creature. It was messy." She laughs, and the warm sound transports Taylor thousands of light years away.
"Not really," they say in answer to their Mum. "Tell me about your day instead."
The conversation loosens the knot in Taylor chest, it gets easier to breathe, and by the time they hang up, the universe doesn't seem so soul crushing. It's almost midnight when they exit their room with no idea of where to go but a restless need to find this person. They trail along the far more empty and quiet corridors, their feet guiding them to a yet to be explored place, the library. They act on instinct, on a gut feeling, and it seems to work, because it's amongst the shelves of scrolls, leather bound books and electronic texts that they find Maxima.
The princess of Almerac is sitting on the ground in the Earth section, lost in a thick paperback. She's still in her band t-shirt but looks far less threatening, her flaming red hair untied and framing her shoulders. Taylor hesitates for a minute, unwilling to disturb her, but Maxima seems to sense them, and when she reaches the end of her chapter, she marks her place in the book with her finger and lifts her head. Her features tense when she meets Taylor's gaze and Taylor knows they can't blame her. Yet, when Maxima talks, her voice is soft, devoid of aggression. "What do you want ?"
"I," Taylor starts, "I came to apologise. I didn't sleep much last night and I know it's not an excuse, but I'm usually not that much of an asshole."
"You're homesick," Maxima nods wisely, "I can understand that." She motions for Taylor to sit beside her. "I apologise too. For taking it out on you in sparring class. You're not a bad fighter."
"Don't lie, I was terrible."
"Yeah," Maxima chuckles, "yeah you were. But you'll find your footing."
"I hope so."
"I know you will," Maxima says, her voice rough and regal. "What's that ?" she asks after a short moment of comfortable silence.
"Oh," Taylor whispers, suddenly remembering the purpose of their late night stroll and shoving the crystal in Maxima's hand. "Music. For you. It's the entire discography of The Cranberries."
Maxima's hands wrap around the crystal and she studies it for a second. She's got large palms, and even as they hold the object delicately, they radiate strength. "Thank you, Lor-El," she says gently.
"Taylor. Call me Taylor. Lor-El's my kryptonian name, nobody really calls me that except for my Yeyu."
"Okay, Taylor," she says, and Taylor swears they've never heard anyone say their name like that. "I'm Max."
Earth year 2042, Crucible Academy
"This is so boring," Tsavo groans. "I don't see the point of any of this." He punctuates his sentence with a wide gesture of his front paws, threatening to unbalance the precarious structure they're standing on.
Taylor has never agreed with anything more in their life, but they keep their mouth shut for the sake of keeping appearances.
"I agree," Max says, her annoyance seeping in her clipped tone. "There's no point in standing in the rain when we could barge in and take what we need."
"Totally," Taylor hurries to say, briefly glancing Max's way. Blissfully unaware of how ridiculous they sound, they take in the sight of their friend, her dark red hair plastered to her angry beautiful face, and their heart stutter.
"We are gathering intel," Adam reminds them with barely concealed irritation, "so we can plan our attack and act in a well thought away. Also, I want a good grade on this one so stop acting like little shits."
Taylor sighs, Max shivers, Tsavo bristles, but they say nothing ; Adam is the team leader after all. The rain is cold and relentless and Taylor is grateful for the somewhat waterproof jacket they remembered to slip on their suit. They stand relatively still on top of the frail scaffolding, periodically peeking through their night vision binoculars and cursing their lack of x-ray vision. With the chill settling deep into their bones, they'd give just about anything for their training to happen under a yellow sun, just once.
Max sneezes violently and the metal pillars rattle beneath the team. Adam throws a frustrated look her way and opens his mouth, ready to assault her with instructions but Taylor silences him with a sharp elbow to the ribs, and admittedly, a bit more strength than necessary. "Fuck off Adam," they mumble under their breath. "Here," they add louder for Max, before draping their wet and heavy jacket over her shoulders. Their fingers brush against each others when Max adjusts the jacket around her, a grateful smile on her face.
Thoughts swirl around Taylor's head and they tentatively grasp at one of them, a recurrent one when it comes to Max ; she's so pretty, even when drenched and furious. Sometimes Taylor feels almost paralysed when they're next to her, like they could die on the spot and wouldn't even mind because Rao blessed them with Max's existence ; apparently, it runs in the family.
Tsavo groans, and Taylor regretfully snaps back to the present. "There's movement," he grumbles.
Sure enough, someone is approaching the building housing Roho's fake team meeting. The guard lets them in after they carelessly wave the prised document that the drenched students are supposed to recover, and Taylor almost topples over trying to get a good look inside. "They don't seem to be guarding the back door," they say, righting themself with Max's assistance.
"We could catch them in a vice," Max suggests, "split up and use the unguarded door as an advantage."
"There's only four of us," Adam reminds, "and eight of them."
"But it's not a bad idea," Taylor muses. "Three of us could attack from the front while another slips in the back. They'll be distracted."
"It's primitive."
"Oh fuck off Adam," Max cuts sharply.
He seems to have a retort at the ready but thunder in the distance covers his attempt and, thinking better of it, he hangs his head in shame and whispers instead ; "sorry guys. I just want a good grade."
"I want a good grade too," Max says, "but we've been standing under the rain for three fucking hours and I'm pretty sure I caught pneumonia. We have to do something."
"Taylor," Adam says in an almost pained voice, "you were saying ?"
"You, Max and Tsavo can take the front, I'll go in the back. And then I'm taking an hour long hot shower."
"Why would you want to stand under water more," Tsavo asks, confused, "when we've already been standing under water ?"
"You wouldn't know," Max laughs, "you don't bath."
"I'll have you know, your Majesty," Tsavo retorts, "that I'm a very clean Ngoan."
"I don't doubt that you are," Max replies with an eye roll before she gracefully jumps off their precarious tower, her sword unfolding in her wake.
The rest doesn't go exactly to plan, and it's the euphemism of the century.
The team manages to take the fight out of the building just fine but the back door is stuck and by the time Taylor manages to get it open, they fall right into a trap. They aren't eight people in Roho's team, but nine, and one of them has been hiding there the entire time. They match Taylor blow for blow, moving faster than they themself can and by the time they manage to knock them out, they're bleeding on one side of the head and feel so dizzy that they have to take the whole stack of paper instead of just the one they're supposed to steal as they can't see straight enough to recognise it.
Out front, the battle is still raging. Adam stands on a sprained ankle and Max tries her hardest to avoid inflicting any real injuries with her sword. She's got a swollen eyes and a cut lip. Tsavo and Roho are locked in a frightening wrestle and when Roho tries to snap is brother's neck, it doesn't look like an exercise anymore. Much too quickly, they're surrounded, Adam struggling to stay upright and Max cornered by her refusal to cause harm to her classmates. Tsavo howls, Adam tumbles to Rendll's feet, Max narrowly escapes one of Vax's pincer ; Taylor calls for outside help, good grade be damned.
The lights of the training room are turned back on and the artificial cold rain stops falling. Roho's team falls back, graceless smirks on their faces, but Roho himself doesn't stop fighting. Under the harsh light, it's easier for Taylor to measure the extent of her friend's injuries, and they don't think before running to the rescue.
They awake in the softest of bed, feeling warm and feather like. There's an annoying beeping in their left ear, but their right one is occupied by uneven breathing and occasional sniffles. There's a hand resting on their naked arm, soft in places and calloused in others, where the handle of a sword usual rests ; it's Max's. Taylor ignores the fluttery feeling in their stomach in favour of opening their eyes to the blinding lights of the med bay.
"Are you crying ?" they ask, the question appearing ludicrous once it hangs in the air.
"You did something incredibly stupid," Max says, sniffling boorishly. With snot running down her face, she doesn't look as regal and unattainable as she usually does ; Taylor likes her all the same.
"Tsavo needed help."
"That's what the teachers are for," Max snaps before schooling her bloated features.
"Is he okay ?" Taylor asks hesitantly.
Max sighs. She sounds frustrated, tired, and Taylor, feeling braver than they ever have in the face of their silly crush looking so defeated, threads their fingers with hers. "He'll live," Max says. "And Roho earned himself detention for the rest of his time here. Preceptor Amata wanted to expel him, but Tsavo interceded in his favour."
"Of course he did," Taylor mumbles. It's typical of Tsavo, defending his family and friends against everyone and everything. In the almost year Taylor has been at Crucible, there's not a day she hasn't seen her friend standing up for his less talented brother. The twins are a package deal, that much they figured out quickly, but it's also clear that without Tsavo, Roho would have never been admitted at Crucible.
"I called your mothers," Max says dragging them out of their thoughts.
"Oh fuck."
"Accurate reaction. I said you were fine and that you'd call them once you'd have woken up."
Taylor groans. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble."
"Your mother's a hero," Max points out, "she'll understand."
"Oh you don't know my Yeyu, she's going to be pissed." Taylor rubs their free hand against their eyes. "Will you stay with me ? While I delay the inevitable and pretend to be asleep for a moment ?"
Max nods, and wordlessly slips out of her pocket the small music player that have become a staple of their friendship. She doesn't let go of Taylor's hand.
