A/N: I have a somewhat spoiler-ish discussion of Taylor and Yuki's relationship in my forums for those who care enough to look. Mainly, a discussion of the author's perspective. I wish to state for the record that I fully intend to comply with FFN rating restrictions and will not have graphic depictions of anything, but there are very disturbing implications as we've already seen with the Russians. As a reminder, this is not a romance, this story is a drama. And, unfortunately when dealing with confused teenagers, there's going to be some angst.
Chapter Fifteen: Dazed and Confused
Taylor opened her eyes and in an instant the previous night came back to her. She felt their sleeping bag against her bare skin. Yuki was curled up around her like a big cat.
Somehow, she thought she would feel different after her first time.
As happened occasionally, she felt her eyes water with a deep, almost desperate need to talk to her mother. If anyone could advise her what to do, or how she was supposed to feel, it would be her mother.
She had no doubt that Yuki loved her. The girl had spent hours showing her how much she loved her. Taylor loved her too, but it didn't feel the same. She didn't feel anything physical for Yuki at all, and most certainly nothing like the overwhelming passion that she knew Yuki felt for her. What they did last night didn't feel good to her at all. It just felt awkward and confusing.
The absence of that passion left her confused and afraid. She felt terrified that something was wrong with her, and that she just couldn't love anyone at all. She felt terrified she might hurt Yuki. Or that she couldn't give Yuki what she needed, and that she'd leave her.
The idea of Yuki leaving—of being alone—made her eyes tear up. What if Taylor never felt anything at all from sex? What if Yuki left, and...and...
"Mom, am I broken?" Taylor whispered.
No answer came, and no how much Taylor wished for it, she knew no answer would. Disentangling herself from her…lover? Apprentice? Partner?...she climbed off the cot and to the field toilet they'd set up in the far side of the three chambered tent. She didn't feel like walking all the way to the annex.
The common area of their three-room tent was where they'd placed their clothes and toiletries, piled on cheap plastic, stackable shelves they found on sale at the Buy'n Large.
Having showered last night, despite their acrobatics, Taylor decided to clean up without another shower. She lost herself in the mundane. Yuki slept in, satiated into a deep slumber. Taylor couldn't stand the idea of waking her, but for solely selfish reasons. She wanted this quiet moment in the light of their lamp.
Dressed in her light costume and ready for the first day of their clinic, she made her way out to the cooler and little field kitchen she'd established. While she wasn't hungry, she just wanted something to do with her hands that didn't require…
Require…
Her furnace blinked at her.
Kitchen forgotten, she moved back to the molecular furnace she'd fashioned from old microwaves and used computer tablets and desk tops. She pulled up the conversion program she'd written in Galactic Basic, confident no one on Earth would be able to read or understand it, and, and saw that all four of her focusing crystals were complete, and that the furnace needed more raw materials to begin fashioning the diatium cells.
The furnace functioned by breaking down matter into its subatomic components and then reassembling that matter into whatever the user needed, almost like a printer that printed objects instead of images. In her memories, construction droids the size of modern office towers with molecular furnaces as big as her house could consume and reconstitute structures in just days, allowing cities to rebuild or renew themselves amazingly fast. Industrial furnaces could produce crates of precious metals or special alloys in minutes.
Her dinky little furnace took several days just to make four lightsaber crystals. And yet, as she took them out of the magnetic reaction chamber, they glowed magically in her hand from the lantern light behind her.
Two were clear—perfectly formed diamonds that were probably worth thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars for their size and perfectly created internal lattices. These would serve as the focusing crystals for the training feature of the blades she intended to build. The training setting, instead of cutting, could deliver debilitating levels of electricity to stun anyone she hit, if she had it turned up high enough.
The blue adagan-style crystals, though, would serve as the focusing crystals for her real blades. She could feel the potential in them, responding to her own Force presence. She put the four gems into a little baggy before hiding them in the small section of broken brickwork she'd already selected to hold the components.
She refilled the hopper of the furnace with more mud and debris from the floor below, and then with the keyboard from an old PC typed in the commands for the various components she would need to make the diatium cells that would power her blades.
The program told her the cells would be ready in twelve hours. Then she could start crafting the other components of her sabers.
She sat down on a pew, taking up her note pad and pencil, and sketched a few more ideas. A water vaporator would take care of the water problems. So close to the ocean, even a small one could refill a thousand gallon tank in just a day or two. It could easily replenish what Yuki and she used in day, as long as they didn't go nuts.
Flipping a page, she traced out just what she would need for a smaller construction droid, something that could create and then assemble the various components of blasters, or armor weave, or even jump armor.
Flying would be nice.
Yuki stumbled out of the tent. She'd already dressed, but only because it was too cold to leave the heated tent naked.
"Hey," she said. Her face lit up when she saw Taylor, grinning with an open, pure happiness.
Taylor forced a smile back. All of her confusion and fear came bubbling back into her mind. But with it was a stark, almost painful realization.
I can't be alone again. In that moment, she made a decision. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. I'm going to try.
So, when Yuki walked over, leaned down and kissed her, Taylor accepted the kiss without hesitation, even if, like last night, it did nothing for her.
"Did you sleep?" she asked.
Yuki grinned. "Yeah." The word came out as a purr. "You?"
"Well enough. I'm sorry, I got distracted before I could cook anything."
"Oh, I'll take care of it. Eggs and bacon?"
"Yes, please."
Yuki sang happily as she puttered around in the kitchen.
After they cleaned up from breakfast, Yuki went to get into her workwear. They'd found business casual clothes at the goodwill that mostly fit her small frame, and one of Taylor's spare domino masks protected her identity. Taylor fully intended to take her to Masquerade once they had more spending money.
Taylor, meanwhile, first checked their water level, then fueled up and started the generator for the overhead lights and the laptop that Yuki would operate at the front desk. She'd sketched out an idea for a capacitor that could capture some of the excess energy of her furnace—the little furnace put out enough electricity to run a city block in New York. But that would mean diverting its production away from lightsabers.
Or building a larger furnace.
Yuki unlocked the front door and set the cardboard "OPEN" sign facing out for all the world to see. The glass doors came from an abandoned Edward Jones office a block south. The front windows came from a jewelry store a few blocks west of that, recycled and repurposed by Jorge, so that they were able to essentially rebuild the annex from the ground up, with a septic system and a gravity-fed water tank, for only $20,000.
Yuki then walked back to the receptionist desk. In the filing cabinet beside her they kept the lock box where they would store their cash, and one of the two .45 pistols from Taylor's backpack she'd stolen from the Bratva.
With nothing else to do, Taylor stood behind the counter next to Yuki.
"I wonder if anyone will come," she wondered aloud
Yuki took her hand but didn't say anything. Whatever Taylor's feelings were about the night before, she found herself intensely grateful to have that hand to hold.
Twenty minutes after their first online appointment didn't show up and Taylor fought back a tide of despair that all of their planning was for nothing, a car pulled up outside the windows. It was a plain looking sedan with a dark gray paintjob and tinted windows. Yuki's hand squeezed harder when three young, fit Asian men in suits and ties climbed out. A fourth was dressed far differently. The air thrummed in anticipation of danger.
Yuki hissed. "Tekiya!"
She opened the used, dented filing cabinet and pulled out the gun, which she placed just under the lip of the desk's top counter.
The three young men in suits and ties wore black sunglasses that looked slightly out of place given the dark, overcast skies. The fourth, though, wore a highly stylized red dragon mask and hood, and an armored black body-suit. In the Force, he projected brute power and danger.
Together, the two girls watched as the four Tekiya walked through the door. Taylor took a step past the desk and centered herself in the Force. At any other time, she would have felt worried or even terrified. Now, however, she was angry. Her first appointment was a no-show, and now a local gang wanted to mess with her?
"No guns are permitted in this clinic," she said. It was a rule she just decided, but it was a good rule.
"Clinic?" It wasn't the mask who spoke, but one of the three nearly identical henchmen. "This isn't a fucking clinic. It's a dump. And it's ours, now. Get the fuck out before we…"
With a wave of her hand, all three men flew up to the ceiling and then crashed down to the floor. The cape raised his own first to deploy whatever power he possessed, but Taylor stopped him by wrapping his windpipe in her power and squeezing.
"I will be clear, and I will use small words so you understand," Taylor declared with more confidence than she felt. "This is my clinic. Tekiya has no claim here. Nuevo Familia has no claim here. Ovambo has no claim. Elite does, and if necessary I can ask Bastard Son to come and discuss it with you. But that won't be necessary, will it? You're professionals, and as professionals we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You leave me alone, and in the future if you have need of my services, you can make an appointment and pay my rate and know I will not turn you over to the police or PRT."
One of the men tried reaching for his gun. Before Taylor even had to swat him, Yuki jumped over the counter in an impressive feat of agility and stomped down on his hand with a loud, "HEEYAH!"
The man screamed and clutched his hand.
Taylor turned to the cape. "Broken, too bad. On the other hand, my first appointment was a no-show. A broken hand will only cost two hundred to heal."
"You think you can get away with this?" The cape's voice was harsh, though that might have been because of Taylor squeezing his windpipe.
"I think that if your organization has any honor, you will leave us alone," Taylor said. She met the man's gaze squarely and pulled at his raging surface thoughts. "Even if I weren't more powerful, would you cut off your nose to spite your face? I offer healing to all. That includes your son, Uwibami."
The man stiffened. "You threaten my son?" He didn't bother asking how she knew he even had a son.
"I offer to heal him. It's your arrogance that threatens him. Make your decision, Uwibami. Either honor my neutrality, or be prepared to die, and lose access to the only parahuman healer in the Northwest."
She released her hold on him. With a simple gesture the soldier with the broken hand flew up off the floor and back onto his feet. "Do you have the money for healing, or do you wish to go to the hospital?"
"Your crazy bitch broke it!" He declared.
"The price just went up to three hundred. You brought a gun into my clinic, and then pulled it on me. You're lucky she didn't kill you."
The man glanced at the red dragon-masked cape, who nodded angrily. "Two hundred."
"You called my partner a bitch. The price is now three hundred. Or you can leave."
The four soldiers had to pool their cash, but when they handed over three hundred dollars Taylor grabbed the man's hand in a way that she knew would hurt, and healed the three small fractures in a matter of minutes.
The man stepped back, flexing his hand, before nodding to the cape.
"How did you know my son is ill?" the Dragon cape demanded.
"My power sometimes gives me information about illness—I sensed it off you," Taylor lied. "He has an infection that could kill him at his age. I've shown you my anger. Now I will show you mercy. Bring him in, and I will heal him for free. And then you will respect the neutrality of this clinic. Agreed?"
Dragon mask nodded. "Heal my son, and I will discuss it with the elders."
With that, the four men turned and walked out. Only when they were gone did Yuki collapse against the wall, tears in her eyes, and slide down to the floor. Taylor remembered who her Uncle worked for, and what her experience had been with such men.
Taylor knelt down in front of her, lifted her mask, and cupped her cheek.
"Hey, what'd I tell you? I'll take care of you, promise. Not that you needed me too, that was pretty bad-ass the way you broke his hand."
Yuki wiped her eyes. "You think so?"
If I'm going to be her partner, then I need to BE her partner. Taylor leaned over and gently kissed Yuki on the lips. "I know so. And by the time I'm done training you in the Force, you'll be able to do that without even having to move."
"Yeah," the shorter girl breathed. She met Taylor's eyes and her own glistened. "I love you. I love you so much."
Be a partner. "I love you too, Yuki. I don't think I could do any of this without you." She grinned. "Besides, we just made three hundred dollars."
Yuki smiled weakly. "Well, Raul better tell his La Familia friends that we're neutral. I don't want to go through that again."
As it turned out, they didn't need to worry. Their next appointment that morning showed up on time. It was a Mexican man whose arms and neck were covered in tattoos of Mexican eagles, the Mexican flag, and various Catholic iconography. The large, muscular man very gently and lovingly wheeled an old woman into the clinic in a wheel chair.
"You Quintessence?" he said clear English.
"I am," Taylor said. "How can we help you?"
"My friend's sister said you can heal. My Abuela fell and broke her hip. Can you help her?"
He reached into his pocket to show a wad of $20s. "Bring her on back," Taylor said, smiling behind her mask. "I think I'll be able to take care of her."
In the back room, the ganger watched with wide eyes as Taylor gently levitated the older woman onto a table. The woman moaned in pain until Taylor touched her forehead and sent a suggestion to sleep.
"What'd you do?" he demanded anxiously.
"She's sleeping, for the pain. I'll wake her when she's healed."
"Oh, right. Cool. Thanks."
The woman's bones felt old and brittle in the Force. They were slow to accept the energy she poured into them, but when finally the bones did heal, Taylor nodded in satisfaction.
"Yuki, how much did he pay?"
"Two hundred," Yuki offered.
Taylor nodded before meeting the man's eyes. "She has arthritis, right?"
He nodded.
"If you have another hundred, I can ease the arthritis in her hands and knees. I can't cure it, but I can reduce the swelling and pain. It should last a few…."
He had the money out and on the table before she was done. She couldn't help but smile.
"She has a good grandson."
After the ganger took his much happier grandmother home, their next appointment showed up on time. The young man towered easily a foot over Taylor. He came limping in, hanging onto his dad's shoulders, with shattered knee and a state basketball tournament a few days away.
That night, after only three appointments, they counted out the $1,000 they made. Yuki carefully recorded each patient by first name only in their laptop, assigned a client number, ailment and agreed price. She set aside 10% for their Elite fees and another 35% for taxes and overhead, even though neither girl had no idea what to do about that.
The second day was even better as reviews from the first few patients spread on PHO and the online Seattle market place. Yuki proved herself to be an able negotiator—she was able to finagle $900 out of a professional athlete who faced a potentially career-ending ankle injury, and $700 for a wealthy woman's damaged eye.
Among the appointments was a quiet, young Japanese woman and her infant son whose respiratory infection had him running a high fever for several straight days. That child Taylor healed for free.
The second morning of their clinic progressed as well as Taylor could have dreamed. Every appointment slot was filled, and so far she didn't have to turn anyone away because they had an illness that didn't respond to her power.
Of course, she should have known things were going too well. With the way her life worked, there had to be a complication.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
"Holy shit, they were right. This is Agnes Court's material. Well, fuck it all with a chainsaw."
Assistant Director Dan Seneca of the Seattle PRT was not a fan of the Senior Agent in Charge. Cheryl Peabody was a thin but muscular woman with pixie-cut blonde hair and tattoos on her neck and forearm commemorating the one and only time US marines tried to take on parahumans in South America. Technically, they won. The parahuman and his forces were killed. However, the marine division dispatched suffered close to 30% casualties and half a billion in destroyed materiel.
Rather than be cowed by the experience, Peabody grew more militant, switched to the PRT as soon as her tour with the marines ended, and considered herself the ultimate woman's woman. She definitely put the 'B' in butch, if the three sexual harassment complaints filed by her female subordinates were any indication.
She also had a 'shoot now, check to see if they're a brute later' approach to parahumans that, when combined with Gasconade's utter lack of care, made for a brutal and largely ineffective Protectorate presence in the city. It only took three weeks in Seattle for Dan to realize that no one liked Director Foote's PRT, and Cheryl Peadody was a large part of why they didn't.
Unfortunately, regulations did not let him enter a potentially hostile parahuman territory without a PRT escort. Of all the agents she commanded, Peabody was the only one confident enough in herself to think her and her .45 automatic would be sufficient protection against a cape who wiped out an entire company of Russian soldiers and five powerful Russian capes.
What neither of them were expecting was a relatively nice if modest clinic nestled up against the hulking skeleton of an old church with a newly paved parking lot north of the Exclusion Zone. Even more surprising were the five cars in the lot. None looked new, but the fact they were there meant Quintessence had business.
"You know, this may be a mistake," Seneca thought aloud. "The ad said appointment only."
Peabody shrugged. "So? We're scheduling an appointment."
With that questionable encouragement, Dan pulled into one of the parking spots and climbed out. A brief warming trend gave some relief to the biting cold, but even so Dan pulled his coat tighter. Cheryl, of course, was much too tough to need a coat. She wore a light wind breaker more to hide her shoulder holster than anything else, and walked beside Dan toward the door.
The inside felt warm, with steady overhead lights. Dan could hear a distant, muted hum from a generator.
Three entire families sat at various pews along the walls, some with children, another two with older family members. Two of the three were Latino, while the other family looked vaguely Namibian.
Behind the desk sat a high school student with long, silky black hair and a black domino mask. She had a lap top open beside her and watched the two with dark, inquisitive eyes.
"Name, please?" she asked.
"Dan Seneca. I'm afraid I don't have an appointment."
"Oh, I'm sorry, we don't allow walk-ins. If you can…"
"If I may?" Dan cut the girl off before Peabody snapped at her. "I'm from the Seattle PRT. I'd like a moment of Quintessence's time to possibly schedule an appointment at Bayview."
"Quintessence doesn't do hospital visits," the girl said quickly.
Dan smiled wryly. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"
Just then the cape in question appeared. Tall and thin with youth, she didn't bother with her full costume, but rather wore business slacks, a blouse and a white lab coat. The only aspect of her full costume was her hooded mask, which hid all her hair and the upper portion of her face and made the shade of her eyes difficult to see.
She had her hand on the shoulder of a little boy whose left foot was bare. Behind him, the boy's mother came sniffling and clutching the missing shoe in her hand. She was thanking Quintessence profusely in a thick patois of Spanish and English.
When she was gone, Quintessence ignored the two PRT personnel and called for the next family, speaking perfect Mexican-Spanish as she did so. The family obeyed and stepped into the appointed hall. Dan, having chosen stupidly to learn Russian in school because of his early CIA aspirations, understood only a word or two. Basically, she was asking the family to be patient.
Only then did the healer step back out to meet them.
"Please have your attack dog step outside," Taylor said to Dan.
Cheryl, being the attack dog she was, took a step forward. "What did you just call me?"
"This is a neutral location, and she's carrying a gun," Quintessence said, again to Dan. "Tekiya knows the rules, La Familia knows the rules, Ovambo knows the rules. If you want to talk, follow the rules. Get your enforcer out of my clinic."
Though the voice was similar to the Hospital security footage he saw, her tone was completely different. Confident, strong. Dangerous.
"Agent, please step outside," Dan said.
Peabody was used to getting her way. Foote respected strong women and Gasconade couldn't care less. Dan knew the assistant director he replaced was going through the motions before retirement. Now, when he turned to look at his subordinate, he could see the challenge in her eyes and met them square on. Dan Seneca was not a pushover, and it was time for Peabody to realize that.
If nothing else, the SAC was smart enough.
"Fine," she said with a sharp nod. She turned and marched out of the clinic.
When she was gone, Dan looked back to the expectant Quintessence.
"I'm going to remove my phone so I can show you some pictures." He did exactly as he declared, and when he was done he placed the phone on the desk.
The slip of a girl playing receptionist visibly paled underneath her own simple black mask.
Quintessence picked the phone of and swiped through the set of ten photos. "Hold old is she?"
"Twelve."
"At Bayview West?"
"In a private Burn Ward, yes. She gained control of the fire only after it killed her parents and left her like that. She's on the list for Panacea, but unfortunately, she cannot travel and New Wave won't allow Panacea to travel except for Endbringer events. Scapegoat has said that even with his regeneration, her injuries would probably kill him. Our Chief Medical Officer believes she won't last another three months. Even if she did, she'll be horribly disfigured and in pain her entire life. The burns cover most of her body."
"This would take more than one session," Quintessence noted. "This would take hours of healing."
"We're prepared to pay a thousand per hour, with a five thousand bonus if you successfully restore her," Dan said.
This time, the Asian girl whistled appreciatively. "You could get the wiring finished with that, Q."
"I need to think about it," Quintessence said.
Dan placed his business card on her desk. "Please do. This little girl's life is on the line. The PRT is more than happy to pay to save her. Thank you both for your time."
He accepted his phone back, nodded to both of the young capes, and quickly walked back to his waiting car and the long over-due conversation that awaited with SAC Peabody.
~~Quintessence~~
~~Quintessence~~
That night, after dinner and making plans to buy a television, Taylor and Yuki sat listening to streaming music from their laptop as they sat around the heater. There wasn't much else to do.
"You going to go heal the cape?" Yuki asked.
"Don't know."
"Think it's a trap?"
"Maybe? It feels like they know exactly who I am. I'm worried they'll get tired of pretending."
"They'd be stupid to do that," Yuki assured her. "Like you told the Tekiya, they'd lose in a fight, and lose your healing."
"You think I should do it?"
"For a thousand an hour and a five thousand bonus? Fuck yes. We could get started on making this place livable!"
With a worried smile, Taylor hugged the girl tight. "Then I guess I'd better do it."