A/N: Chap 13 review responses are in my forums as normal.
Chapter Fourteen: Masters and Apprentices
Yuki stumbled along with bleary eyes as Taylor dragged her out of the church for a run.
"Trust me, exercise is really important to mastering the Force."
"We ran yesterday. And the day before. Right now I just wanna master sleep!"
Jorge was already there with his crew, working by the light of the bulldozer they were using to lift the ceiling joists for the annex. It seemed impossible that they were going to finish that day, but he assured her that they would. She waved at he and his men and continued dragging Yuki out.
"I'll make a deal with you," Taylor said. "For every mile you run, I'll let you kiss me."
Yuki definitely perked up. "Where?"
"What do you mean…oh." This time, Taylor felt her cheeks burning. "Let's start on the lips, okay?"
Yuki considered it for a long moment. "Make it two, one place you get to pick and one a place I get to pick,"
"Above the collar, lover girl."
"Deal."
"Alright, let's go."
Not five minutes later, Yuki gasped, "I changed my mind! Your love's not worth the pain. I'm still sore from yesterday!"
When they started, Taylor thought surely they could at least go a mile. However, as much as she hated to admit it, her body was exhausted. She'd never exercised before the locker, and it was obvious from Yuki's gasping that the other girl hadn't either. Still, Taylor knew the Force could replenish them. Their first day they walked more than they ran.
The second day they managed a light jog for almost a mile.
Today, though, even Taylor realized they had to do something.
"Alright, first lesson," she decided once she mostly caught her breath. She looked around until she saw the rusted hood of a car that would serve as a relatively clean spot to sit. "Come here."
Yuki did so with a groan, clambering up onto the hood until she sat cross-legged facing Taylor.
"Close your eyes, like you did when you felt the ocean."
Yuki did so, and Taylor could feel an odd anticipation from her in the Force. She reached out and touched Yuki's mind. Yuki's breath caught in her throat.
"Do you feel me?"
"Oh, yes," Yuki gasped.
"Down, lover girl. Follow what I'm doing."
Taylor reached instinctively for the Force, pulling Yuki's consciousness with her as she did, and then let the energy of it flow into her body. She could feel it like a gentle warmth soaking into her muscles and lungs, easing the strain.
Across from her, she felt Yuki haltingly do the same. Her connection felt far weaker than Taylor's, but even so she knew the moment the Force began to flow into her friend's body from the way Yuki's breathing quickened.
"Oh, wow," she whispered.
"In my dreams, I just know that I can use the Force to replenish myself," Taylor explained softly. "The training was designed to help our bodies become more aligned with the Force, so that not only are we physically stronger, but we can go without rest if we need to. Soon you won't have to stop to do this. Feel better?"
"Yeah!" She almost screamed the world. "That is so fucking awesome!" She leaned forward and hugged Taylor tightly before sliding off the car. "Man, this is better than meth!"
Taylor chose not to comment on how her friend would know that. She knew that compared to Yuki, she'd led a relatively sheltered life. "Already, let's try this again."
They continued to have to stop frequently, since Yuki couldn't quite manage to pull on the Force to replenish herself while running. But Taylor did notice that they managed to go further and further between stops. The run ended up taking most of the morning, but by the time they got back Yuki almost glowed with the excitement of her success.
"Two kisses, right?" she asked as they were walking toward the clinic.
"Don't you want to wait until we're clean?"
"No. Where do you want the first one?"
Taylor decided to play it safe and leaned down to point at her cheek.
"Coward," Yuki said, though she grinned. She then planted a very slow kiss on that check, doing so in a way that tickled and sent ripples down Taylor's neck.
"Second is mine. Above the collar."
"Right."
"Close your eyes and lean over, you're tall."
Taylor was expecting a kiss on the lips. She even pursed her lips, bound and determined to keep any questing tongues out of her mouth. Which is why when she felt two small lips against the side of her neck, just under and behind her right ear, she almost screamed and jerked away. Except that Yuki had wrapped her arms around her. Whether it was a kiss or a suck or a lick, Taylor didn't know. Whatever Yuki did, though, sent shivers down her spine.
Her attacker had a satisfied grin on her face. "Above the collar, just like you said. Dibs on the shower!"
Rather than follow, Taylor made her way to the annex, trying to think about what it meant that a girl kissed her neck, and it sorta felt good.
When she cleared the corner of the church's front face, she once again found herself awed by just how much Jorge and his team were able to do in a short amount of time. From inside the structure, she heard power tools and hammers. A large, well-used generator roared to the side.
Jorge walked out, smiling. "Almost done!" he said.
Taylor didn't even hear the Spanish anymore, it just sounded like normal speech to her now. "Show me?"
The annex itself was actually smaller than her old house in Brockton Bay, but it didn't need to be huge. There was a waiting area at the street side, then through a doorway into comfortable sized hall, Taylor spotted three examination rooms and full bathroom. A couple of men were busy caulking in a lime-green tub.
"Got it for next to nothing at the city salvage," he told her. "It's why we could do it so cheap. I have tables for your rooms, and stools. We'll build a receptionist desk for the front, we already have a marble counter top."
"This is incredible." She noticed the toilet. "It has water?"
"Come, I'll show you."
He led her to a narrow closet between the annex and the old masonry of the church wall. Inside she saw a metal ladder that he climbed up onto.
Two men were finishing up roof tiles on the back slope of the roof. Taylor could see the ground up earth where they installed the reconditioned septic system. But what caught her eye was the metal cabinet set on a wood and steel platform built on the roof right next to the church masonry.
"It only holds a thousand gallons," he explained. "You'll need to get a portable tank to buy water and refill it. But it's high enough to give flushing toilets and running sinks. And the bathtub and shower, if you girls want it."
"Oh, we do," Taylor said happily. "Oh, Jorge, this is wonderful! How did you do all this? Wouldn't it require an architect or an engineer or something?"
When he didn't immediately answer, she looked back and saw him by the water tank, scowling. "You think I shouldn't be able to do this?"
She could see it, then, in his mind. He worked for a leading builder in Mexico, starting out as a simple laborer as he worked his way through college for an engineering degree. His hard work rewarded him with a nice home he built himself, the esteem of his colleagues and the knowledge that he was building homes that people could be proud to live in. And then Behemoth came and burned Mexico City to the ground. The echo of that monster still lived in his nightmares.
She saw through his eyes as the Federal government faltered and never managed to recover; as various states splintered off, first run by cartels and then parahumans who at first fought the cartels as heroes, only to take over completely as warlords.
She could see his pleading with the American consulate for a visa that would allow him to work using his professional credentials, only to be placed on a waiting list with millions of others from Mexico, Central and South America who were also desperate to reach the one remaining bastion of civilization in the Americas.
She felt his anguish, grief and determination to do anything necessary to keep his family safe. The poverty, the genuine hunger they felt as they emptied what little savings they had left to pay smugglers to get them into the country.
It almost left her breathless.
"I didn't realize before," she admitted softly. "But I do now."
She looked behind him at the church. "When we have money from the clinic, I would be honored if you helped Yuki and I turn that church into a home."
He gave her a hint of a smile. "When you have money, let me know, and I will."
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
That very same Saturday afternoon that the advertisement hit PHO, letting people know they could schedule parahuman healing for as little as $200 a visit, and Jorge's men finished the last finishing touches on the annex, Taylor had a visit from the elite of the Elite.
She felt thankful Yuki had left to spend the afternoon with Maria. When the stretch limo arrived at the cracked street right in front of the abandoned church, Taylor braced herself for anything.
Taylor stiffened when Obsidian climbed out of the driver's seat, immaculate in a three-piece suit. His shaven, pitch-black head gleamed in the dull sunlight of a January morning in Seattle. He stepped calmly to the back door of the limo and held it open even as Taylor approached from the clinic's newly installed front door. She knew that Jorge and his team were finishing the septic system behind the clinic, in what was going to be a garden.
With Obsidian holding the door, Entourage climbed out first. Then she climbed out second and third time, each copy identical to the first in stylish black dresses with crimson half-jackets and a wide crimson leather belt, and matching crimson Venetian masks. The red pumps matched the belt and half-jacket perfectly. The three copies of Entourage them assisted another person from the limo just as Taylor arrived.
This person looked to be in her mid-forties, her face covered by a black and white laced Venetian style mask more ornate even than Entourage's. She had a great figure for her age, but had to cling to two of the Entourage clones to stand. She wore stylish black slacks with a silvery blouse held together by a flowing black long sweater.
The last person to climb out stood nearly as tall as Obsidian, but with twice the girth. Nor was it fat. The man looked like a walking, talking wall of muscle with a head of short-cropped hair. He wore a suit like the others.
The whole party stopped in front of Taylor.
"Quintessence," Entourage began. "This is Agnes Court, one of the governors of the Elite. She is my sponsor's sponsor. And with us also is Obsidian and Upperhand."
Taylor thought back to the capes she knew—the capes whose names might be recognized around the world. Agnes Court was one of them—Shaker able to reshape the world around her. She was ranked right up with Ziggurat of the Chinese Union Imperials cape force, the Yàngban. Like Ziggurat, Agnes could grow whole cities with her power.
"It's an honor," Taylor said with a nod.
"We'll see," Court said sharply. Her voice had a high, angry and strained pitch to it, which for some reason reminded Taylor of her old principal. "Entourage has violated the rules of the Elite and attempted to establish a presence in a city she was not assigned to. This presents a problem to the other governors."
"I…yes. I understand this was supposed to be Nonpareil's territory."
Entourage gave her a surprised look. Court simply nodded. "Indeed. However, since you're here you can make yourself useful. As you can no doubt see my leg is badly broken. I would like you to heal it."
"Of course. Please come inside. I'm afraid we're still finishing up some construction, so please ignore the new paint smell."
The lobby of her clinic, in recognition of her surroundings, was a spacious but modestly built room with a single receptionist desk against the interior wall and two reconditioned church pews with upholstered cushions against the walls for seating. It was actually the largest room in the four-room section of the intact annex. Beyond the lobby, a short hall ran down the length of the remaining annex, with doors to three small examination rooms opposite, and a bathroom next to the lobby.
Only one of the rooms had an examination table in it—the Jorge's son Raul was bringing the other two from the city salvage that afternoon.
The three Entourages assisted Agnes onto the table in the first examination room while Obsidian and Upperhand stood just inside, their bulk alone crowding the space.
The woman didn't wear a cast, thank goodness. However, when one of the Entourages removed the black cloth over it, Taylor sucked in a breath. No wonder the woman sounded irritated. She motioned casually for the stool and then sat.
"I'm sure you know this is a severe compound fracture."
"Can you heal it?"
"I can, but it's going to be very painful. You have bone chips everywhere and I'm going to have to move them. Would you like me to put you to sleep?"
The woman's eyes were a deep, dark blue from within her mask.
"As much as a loathe pain," she finally said, "I loathe being unconscious around others even more. Fortunately, I know several very good tinker chemists." She removed a small vial of white powder. "This will remove my sense of pain for one hour. Will that be enough?"
"I…probably not for all of it," Taylor admitted. "But for the worst? Yes, I think so."
Court removed a small six-ounce flask and poured the powder into it. She then guzzled the contents of the flask. By the time she finished, her cheeks flushed into a rosy color.
"You may begin."
Because of the experience Taylor had healing Maria's jaw, the prospect of healing a pulverized leg was not as intimidating as it might have been at one point. It simply took a while.
"Describe to me what you're doing right now." Court demanded. She sounded very much like the PRT doctor during her licensure exam.
"My power doesn't change you, it just encourages healing," Taylor said. "So I have to move things around before I do that, or it might heal wrong. I'm moving your bone chips into place where I can, and expelling those pieces too small to use through one of the five puncture wounds."
"How do you know where to put the bones?"
"My power provides me a sense of what is correct or not," Taylor explained. "It sometimes takes trial and error, but when I have something right I can usually tell. Once I have the bone as aligned and intact as possible, I'll begin healing it completely."
Court continued to study her, not a trace of pain or distress on her face.
"Of course, we know who you are," the powerful cape said, as it speaking of the weather. "We know what you've done. It seems odd that you would be content as a healer on the edge of civilization rather than as a mover and shaker at it's heart. What is it that you want out of life, Quintessence?"
The question startled her. She'd been running so fast, and then working toward the clinic so hard, she'd never considered the question.
"Short term? Not going to the Birdcage would be nice."
"Darling," Agnes Court drawled. "I can assure you that ship has sailed."
Hearing the older woman say 'darling', Taylor now realized how much she meant to Entourage. Agnes said it as a superior to an inferior. Entourage used the term as an homage to a woman she looked up to. To Taylor, it simply sounded patronizing.
Court explained herself. "The one thing I have learned about the Protectorate and PRT is that they are the soul of Pragmatism. We Elite rule San Diego jointly with them, you see. We work together to control parahuman crime, and as a result they by and large leave us alone. When they do capture one of us, unless that member has been particularly egregious in their crimes, the most common end is recruitment, rather than jail."
"How many of them have killed Protectorate heroes?" Taylor could help her bitterness.
"Not many, that's true. But consider this, darling. You obviously have the power to rule a city. You took out Saltykovkoya Bratva, a gang we Elite had been fighting for months. You defeated Narwhal, for goodness sakes. And yet, instead of ruling your own city, you've chosen to open a clinic and heal. I assure you, Quintessence, if you are ever unmasked for any reason, the Protectorate and PRT will do everything they can to recruit you. It would be a stretch of the imagination to think of Alexandria or Costa-Brown tossing such a resource away."
"Well, that's good, I suppose."
"Which returns us to my question," Agnes Court said. "What do you want out of life?"
Taylor leaned back from the now healed foot and shrugged. "To live. To survive as long as I can and have what happiness I can find in the meantime. I'm done."
"Yes, I could feel it. The drugs wore off half an hour ago." Agnes climbed gingerly off the bed until she was able to test her bare foot and ankle. "Impressive. Obsidian, darling, my shoe?"
The muscular cape knelt down in front of Agnes and slipped on a stylish, black leather boot that probably cost what Taylor's entire renovation budget cost. "Thank you, dear."
They all walked together out to the car, with Entourage at Taylor's side and the two large men a respectful distance behind. Ahead, Taylor could feel the older cape's mind whirling.
"Very well," she said, as if finishing a long conversation to herself. "Entourage, darling, you were right. This was an opportunity that Nonpareil, for all of his strengths, would have been ill-positioned to take advantage of. You understand that by doing this, Esterella will be losing Portland?"
Entourage didn't look or feel happy. She opened her mouth to protest, but thought different of it. "I understand."
"Yes, I know you do, darling. That's why you're going to go far." The elder of the Elite turned to Taylor and nodded. "Welcome to the organization, dear. I hope that you find what you're looking for."
She climbed in to her limo. Three of the Entourages climbed in after Obsidian and the silent Upperhand, and soon enough the limo was driving slowly over the shattered, flood-damaged cement toward the Exclusion Zone signs.
"So, I passed?" Taylor said.
"With flying colors," Entourage said with a happy smile.
"How'd she break her leg?"
"The envoy from Gessellschaft took issue with Blueblood, one of our governors. The disagreement got heated."
"Why?"
"Blueblood's black, of course." Vargas grinned. "It's why he chose the name—he's one of Benjamin Franklin's black descendants. Made the Aryan jerks go nuts. Anyway, I have a guess that you impressed Agnes."
"What makes you say…what is that?"
A wave of wood-colored cement was creeping toward them. Rather than be alarmed, Entourage laughed. "If Nonpareil needed proof you had Agnes's seal of approval, he couldn't find better than this."
The odd cement rolled right under their feet, lifting them both up briefly before it continued into the area where the old annex was before Jorge bulldozed it. As Taylor watched, astounded, the berm of debris seemed to melt into more of the brown surfacing, which formed a broad, immaculate parking lot right in front of the annex. The odd surfacing snaked out in the form of a narrow sidewalk toward the back.
Taylor stepped into the street where she saw the limo parked just south of the FEMA signs. Obsidian was calmly moving the signs to the side of the now full repaired road. The limo, parked sideways, had one window open and a single hand holding what looked like a tree trunk. Even as Taylor watched, the trunk shrunk into the new road surface.
Obsidian climbed in, and in moments the limo was driving away.
Entourage suddenly hugged Taylor.
"You and me are going to make so much money together," the clone said. She then popped away, leaving Taylor standing on the strongest, most perfectly paved road in the entire Northwest.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
Jorge finished the annex on Sunday, while Yuki and Taylor were out on their run. That left them to their own devices to prepare. A shopping trip bought things they thought they might need—gas for the generator that would run the lights while they operated, paper towels and a water dispenser for the lobby. Trash cans and bags. More cleaning supplies. They spent the afternoon, well into evening, cleaning the clinic. Taylor took a break to go get take out while Yuki continued getting all the sawdust and paint splatters off the reclaimed tiles of their floor. The grout sealant was still new and they had to be careful cleaning it.
They ate Thai take-out on the receptionist desk as they went over how they intended to run the business. Yuki was happy to keep the books, having been further in high school math and able to use spreadsheets on the computer better than Taylor could.
Finally, they ran out of things to do. They locked everything up and started walking down the hall of the annex toward the church. And beyond it, their loft.
As they passed down the hall, Yuki slowed and looked into the bathroom.
"You know," she said, drawing the word out. "We have a thousand gallons up there, but only five gallon bags in the loft. It would make sense to shower together just to conserve water and heat."
Taylor shook her head and laughed. "You just never give up, do…?"
The question died in her throat as Yuki turned and stared at her in the shadows of the hall. Without the generator on, the only light came from the single kerosene camping lantern they'd left in the front for their return, which Yuki now held.
Her face looked deathly serious as she stared up at Taylor.
"No," she said simply. "I won't. I love you. I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. I want to fuck you so bad it…it…it hurts a little! So, yeah. I'll keep trying. But you know, I'm not wrong. It's going to be a pain in the ass refilling the tank."
The declaration left Taylor shaken. It wasn't so much the idea of having sex with a girl that shocked her, but rather the naked desire and adoration she could feel emanating from the girl like a strong scent from a flower. She just radiated a need that left Taylor breathless and a little overwhelmed.
"Yuki, I…don't know what to say."
"Say you'll shower with me," Yuki said. Her voice actually cracked a little with emotion. "Say you'll at least try to give it a chance. That maybe it doesn't matter if I'm a girl or a boy, only that I love you."
"I…" Taylor swallowed. "I guess you're right, it would be a good idea to conserve water."
Yuki's smile lit up the hall like no light ever could.