A/N: What a strange and unsettling week it's been. I hope everyone is well.

Review responses are in my forums like normal. In other news, you know you've made a splash in a new fandom when other authors start taking bits of your work. Another writer "borrowed" my Nutcracker at Winslow scene as a workaround for the heroes in his story figuring out Taylor's trigger. To the author's credit, he "told" the scene from another character as a report after the fact, so it isn't a case of plagiarism or wrong-doing. He just took the concept of my "Nutcracker as a post cog", changed the cape name, and used it as a narrative tool to get his characters from point A to point G.

Guess that means he's reading my fic.

Part Three: HERO

Chapter Thirty-Five: Free Bird

"You go be a hero now, baby," Dolores Franklin said. She gave Taylor a crushingly tight hug.

Taylor had promised herself she wasn't going to cry when September 23rd rolled around, but when the counselors at the Center prepared an actual party for her, with a banner and a cake and everything, Taylor found herself teary-eyed and emotional.

"You too, Ms. D," she said when the much larger woman put her down.

She'd already said her good-byes to the girls in her unit, but most she'd only known for a few weeks. The juvenile population was pretty transient, so she couldn't say she made friends with the girls. Most were needy at best; broken at worst. All were victims in their own right, but unfortunately chose to handle it by making others victims as well.

Delores herself walked Taylor through the exiting process. She'd had her final hearings the day before

She found herself wearing the very same dress she wore to trial in Brockton Bay as she stepped through the security checkpoints to the gate. She would have loved to say the sun was shining and the birds were singing, but it was September in Settle. It was dreary and raining cats and dogs.

She didn't care.

"Now baby, you listen here, okay?" Dolores said. "You wanna write, you wanna call, you feel free. But if I ever see you come into this unit again, I'm gonna kick your ass."

And she said it as lovingly as a mother to her newborn daughter.

"Got it, Ms. D," she said, giving the woman one more hug.

"Now you get out of here and go be a hero."

Taylor stepped through the last security desk into the gated yard.

In the yard, framed by the twelve-foot high, razor-wire topped fence, stood Dan Seneca in a raincoat and a wide umbrella. Two PRT agents stood behind him.

Freedom is relative, Taylor supposed.

He stepped toward her and offered her a share of the umbrella.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Okay. Is Yuki here?"

"No. But we do have some time in the schedule. If you'd like, we can swing by your house before we go to the PRT building."

The offer surprised her. "Really?"

"Really." He chuckled. "Taylor, you're not in prison any more. Probation doesn't mean house arrest. Come on, let's go. Are you hungry?"

"No. They had cake, I'm good."

The vehicle they took her too wasn't the normal massive, hulking PRT transport. Rather, it looked like a black shuttle bus. A driver was already there. Taylor and Dan took the first of the five rows of seating. The two agents split up—one in the passenger side, one in the back.

"We have a hearing with Health Services to have your home inspected tomorrow," Seneca told her as the shuttle pulled away from the secure entrance of the King County Youth Detention Center. "The petition is just waiting for their sign-off and your enrollment for school."

Taylor sighed. In a completely different tone than the first time, she repeated: "Really?"

Seneca chuckled. "Look, I get it. I saw your test scores while you were in the Center. Normally you'd be able to take your GED and be done with it. But you have to admit your circumstances are unique. We have a contracted school in South Seattle that has an AP program and the PRT vocational program. You'll be registered as a junior because of your test scores. If you want to get emancipated, the court and the PRT want you in school."

It was political, of course, and Taylor didn't need telepathy to know that. If she went to school and joined the Wards, then the PRT could point to her and say, "See, model Ward! Don't worry about her slaughtering Russians! She's under control."

The emancipation was the carrot at the end of the stick.

Seneca kept talking about the Wards and the various programs she could enroll in despite her probationary status. She had to admit she was interested in the accelerated licensing program, since she couldn't drive either her car or motorcycle legally at the moment.

She wasn't quite sure why he spent so much time talking about the drug and rehabilitation program, though. She didn't use anything. The Force was the only high she needed.

Finally, they passed the FEMA Exclusion Zone signs. They were coming up on the back road, rather than California Way. The van pulled right up to the garage. In the pouring rain, she could barely see the light from the bedroom.

"Here," Seneca said, offering her his umbrella. "I think your housemate had a surprise planned for you. We'll wait out here."

Taylor was tempted to do a probe to find out what he was talking about, but not doing so was part of her own counseling.

"Thanks," she said.

Even with the umbrella, she got soaking wet. She didn't care as she ran toward the garage back entrance. If Yuki was planning a surprise party, Taylor didn't want to ruin it for herself either. So, she locked her Force presence up tight so Yuki wouldn't know she was almost there, and Taylor wouldn't feel anything from her girlfriend either.

The house was still mostly empty, she saw. Their sedan was in its place in the garage, near the lift to her lab underneath. The poor car had not faired well—she saw dents and broken headlights, bent bumpers and other evidence of multiple wrecks.

She winced when she saw a strip of PRT yellow warning tape by the lift controls. She couldn't help but wonder what, if anything, they left of her work.

She walked through the unlit, empty kitchen and saw a cake on the dining room table. It was a store-bought cake with the message "WELCOME HOME TAILOR". She noticed little trails of powdered sugar on the repurposed marble countertop.

Tailor?

"I'm going to tease the hell out of you for spelling that wrong," she promised.

She was half-way up the stairs when she heard it: grunts, groans and rhythmic slapping of flesh on flesh.

She's watching porn? It wasn't a surprise, really. That was one of the first things Yuki did on their computer once she got internet set up. Everything came down to sex for Yuki. Her surprise for Taylor undoubtedly involved some perverted Japanese school girl outfit, some stolen alcohol or weed, and a porn flick on their television. Yuki thought nothing of it; that was her idea of a romantic evening.

Taylor bit back a tired sigh. What she wanted more than anything at that moment was a long, hot soak in the tub. She wouldn't have minded at all having Yuki in there with her, but not for sex. She just wanted someone to hold her and be happy that she was home.

She had a lot of time to think in the detention center. A lot of counseling. About herself, and her circumstances. It made her realize that what she and Yuki shared was not very healthy. But she also knew that Yuki crossed the country to save her. That was too much for her to ignore. That loyalty was worth a little happiness, as far as Taylor was concerned. So, she plastered a happy smile on her face and walked into the bedroom.

Her first thought when she saw them wasn't anger or even shock. It was morbid curiosity at just how a man Obsidian's size could even fit in Yuki like that.

She's cheating on me. She's cheating on me with Obsidian in my house. In my bed.

Taylor had no idea how to feel. She didn't know what to say or even think. She stood there watching the display with an empty heart and a blanked-out mind.

Abruptly the couple realized she was there. Yuki screamed—not her startled little eep, but a full-throated scream of horror. She jumped off her lover, leaving the huge man to roll off the bed in an alarmed and clumsy attempt to cover himself, while Yuki herself rushed toward Taylor. She kicked trash and bottles away from her path, making Taylor realize just how filthy the room was.

"Taylor! It's not what it looks like! They were supposed to call when you were coming home!"

Of course, that makes perfect sense, Taylor thought with a kernel of irritation. Because that was the way Yuki thought. It wasn't Yuki's fault for cheating on her, it was the PRT's fault for not giving her time to hide the evidence.

Evidence. Taylor closed her eyes as she realized that Dan Seneca knew exactly what was happening in her house that morning. Of course, the PRT would have surveillance on the home of a soon-to-be released probationary Ward. Which meant it wasn't the first time.

Dan wanted her to see this.

"Taylor!" Yuki screamed again, horrified by Taylor's lack of response. She started to surge toward Taylor, dripping with sweat from her tryst, but Taylor stopped her with a raised hand.

In the corner, Obsidian had managed to pull on a pair of slacks. She had to admit, he looked like he was carved from the rock he took his cape name from. Each muscle was perfectly defined, and he had a lot of them. He was a handsome man—beautiful, even. He slowed in his efforts to pull on his shirt when he saw her staring at him.

"How long?" Taylor asked. She barely recognized her own voice. "How long did she last without someone to fuck?"

"Taylor, baby, please!" Yuki dipped her knees and clasped her hands to her chin.

Obsidian didn't seem phased by her behavior. He reacted with long familiarity to the display.

"Two weeks," he said, not even trying to deny it. "Right after she got busted first time for drunk driving. She drinks or uses whenever I'm not around. She needs someone to look out for her."

"And I wasn't there."

"Taylor, I love you!" Yuki howled. She collapsed to her knees on the floor. Her anguish radiated like heat into the Force. "I can't live without you! I won't!"

Obsidian walked around the bed, barefoot, bare chested and looking like he just walked off the cover of a magazine. He knelt down beside the howling, almost insensate girl, picked her up like a toy, and carried her into their bathroom. Taylor saw him bend over and turn on the water, and then very gently caress Yuki's hair and kiss her forehead.

Her yowls turned into deep, disconsolate sobs. Taylor found her own eyes watering.

A moment later he walked back out until he stood looking down at Taylor.

"She's fucked in the head," Obsidian explained. "Borderline Personality Disorder, that's what the Youth Guard doc called it. She can't help it. I've tried dragging her to counseling a couple of times. Youth Guard offers it for free. She just can't handle it. I think she loves you. She talks about you all the time. But you were gone longer'n she could handle and I just couldn't stand there and watch her crash and burn."

Taylor quietly wiped her eyes. As much as she wanted to rage at the man, all she felt from him was sorrow, regret, and a genuine affection.

"You love her, don't you?"

He shrugged. "Would you believe she started all this shit by talking about a threesome?"

"Yeah, actually." It was absolutely Yuki. Taylor wiped her eyes. "You took a risk for us, Obsidian."

"Todd. You saw my dick. Cape name's stupid at this point."

Taylor's laugh felt free, yet horribly bitter. "Yeah, guess so. Todd. You took a risk. I owe you. I owe her. But I can't…. I can't. I can't do this with her. Not now. I can't be what she needs. So go ahead and take her. Get her stuff, and take her home with you. Love her. Give her what she needs. I'm probably going to close the clinic—it'll be hard to claim neutrality when I'm a Ward."

"You're not mad?"

Rather than shout or scream, Taylor took a deep, shaky breath. She closed her eyes and reached for her center just like the counselors suggested in lock-up, examining her emotions as Bendu master might, and what she found inside her left her calm. She was hurt. Disappointed. But what she felt most, to her own shock, was free.

"I'm happy she has you," she admitted. "I was never what she needed; I was just what she had."

He had very warm eyes, she noticed. "And what about you? What do you need?"

"I'm figuring that part out. Take care of her, Todd."

"I will. I'll have her out before you get back. It was supposed to be 5pm, right?"

"Yeah."

He looked back over his shoulder. Yuki had curled into a ball in the oversized tub she'd insisted on. It came from the city salvage but was in immaculate condition, in stark contrast to the ball of misery within it.

"Thanks," he said simply.

There wasn't much else to say. Taylor turned and left them, walking slowly through the otherwise empty house. The only furniture was what they had delivered that first, wonderful day when Maria's family came over and helped install anything. The training room was still empty, as were the guest bedrooms. The place looked and felt foreign to her, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

Dan said nothing when she climbed back into the shuttle and handed him back his umbrella.

"I'm ready to go," she said simply.

~~Quintessence~~

~~Quintessence~~

No one mentioned Yuki. When Dan walked her through the back-security entrance of the PRT building, no one really looked at her. She'd grown her hair out, but had it tied in a braid against the back of her head. She wore the same dress she wore during her trial; she didn't have any other clothes other than what was at her house.

Seneca led her to a larger security room just inside the back entrance. A front desk separated a few cubicles from the waiting area. Dan ignored the desk and used his own security access to lead her into a small conference room.

It was not empty. Taylor stumbled a moment when she saw Lisa Wilbourn stand up inside, a nervous smile on her intact, unburned face. She had short, dark green hair spiked up in the middle, with a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Two whole, worried green eyes regarded Taylor intently as she stepped in after Seneca.

"Hey, there. You're surprised. I…oh, right. You have that brain of yours locked up tight. I get it. After…" She glanced at Seneca. "Right, shutting my mouth now."

Taylor took the offered chair next to the blonde, who settled down with her.

"Panacea?"

Lisa nodded. "Yep. It only cost me $2,000, pretty good deal."

"She went commercial?"

Lisa laughed; it wasn't a humorous sound. "Because of meeting you. Now she's a rogue in Philadelphia making very good money. Fifty thousand for instant cosmetic alterations."

She fell silent for a long moment, studying Taylor intently. "Do you understand, Taylor? Do you understand why I did it?"

Taylor was sure Lisa's intuitive power gave her the answer; the question was for Taylor herself more than anyone else. At the time she felt anger and betrayal. But now, after six months of counseling and meditation, she was free. Once she left this building, she could go home on her on with no more obligations than she would have had otherwise.

Only now, she had no sword of Damocles hanging over her head the moment she showed her face to the world.

"Yeah," she said. "I do. What I don't understand is why you're here."

"I'm here for you. Figured I owed you. A lot, actually."

Dan settled in with a thick bundle of forms. "Sarah here will be joining the Wards team here with you, Taylor," he said.

"Sarah?"

Lisa—or Sarah—shrugged. "You're not the only ex-villain. They made me use my legal name. At least I got emancipated from my folks, so it all worked out. Sarah Livsey, an honor to meet you."

She offered a hand which Taylor took after only a moment's hesitation.

Seneca placed two set folders on the table. Taylor's was much, much thicker.

"Sarah is transferring in from San Diego," Seneca said. "So hers is just a transfer completion form. Yours is the full contract."

Craig Banyon explained it to her during probationary hearing. The contract was the difference between her being forced to live at the PRT building as an unwilling Ward of the agency, or living at home as a willing participant.

She read through it, looking for all the clauses Craig warned her to make sure were included, and all the ones he warned her to make sure weren't there. The contract was identical to what he'd showed her two days before after the hearing confirming she'd met the requirements of her sentence.

Sarah already had hers signed and slid back to Seneca. Taylor took her time, quickly reading through until she was satisfied everything matched her expectations. She then signed and dated the form.

"Thank you," Seneca said. He was talking about more than just her handing the contract back to him. "Well, ladies, let's mask up and go get your IDs."

"I thought I was supposed to meet Gasconade," Taylor said.

"Ah, that's a big 'not-gonna-happen'." Sarah said before Seneca could speak. "Trust me, you two would not get along."

Seneca cleared his throat. "We believe there might be some negative power interaction there," the assistant director said. "So, let's go meet your new team."

He led them out of the conference room and back out into the security office. A pair of civilian PRT employees motioned the two new Wards against a wall. Sarah slipped on a white domino mask for her photo, grinning mischievously just as the camera flashed.

Taylor took her position against the wall. The photographer looked from her to Seneca. "Mask?" the woman asked the assistant director.

He posed the question silently to Taylor, who shook her head. "No mask."

The woman shrugged and took the picture. Moments later, the two new Wards were handed not PRT IDs, but Protectorate IDs with their Ward cape names: Insight for Sarah, and Quintessence for her.

"So, is there a separate headquarters for the Protectorate, like in Brockton Bay?" Taylor asked.

Seneca shook his head. "We only have four members of the Protectorate in Seattle," Dan said. "Nutcracker is actually Watchdog working remotely. And before you two, we only had four Wards. So, it just wasn't economical to have a separate building. Come on, I'll show you the Wards quarters."

The elevator Seneca took them to was large—like a freight or hospital elevator. It also moved slowly up from the ground floor. The Brockton Bay PRT building was seventeen floors high. The Seattle PRT building had a larger footprint, but was only eight floors high.

The elevator stopped on the sixth floor. A long, featureless hall bisected the floor. On side of the hall held only a single door. The other appeared to house more rooms. Dan led them to the one isolated door and inserted his badge into the reader before placing his hand on the palm reader.

"There's a ninety-second alarm to allow the Wards to mask up in case of civilian visitors," the AD explained.

"Do you have many visitors?" Taylor asked.

"San Diego had Ward tours every weekend," Sarah said with an impatient huff. "Everything from state senators to elementary schools."

"We're not that bad, but it does happen," Dan said.

The door buzzed open and he led them inside. Taylor wasn't sure what she expected, but a girl in a strangely armored Alice In Wonderland-style pinafore dress with combat boots sprawled over a sofa wasn't it. She wore a white venetian mask over the top of her face, leaving her pouty lips and long, almond-brown hair uncovered.

"Oh, hey, this the new girl?" She spoke in a low, lazy drawl.

"Oh, sweetie, you are so stoned right now, aren't you?" Sarah said.

"It's medicinal," the pouty girl said defensively. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be?"

"Alice," Seneca growled. "That was your deployment supply!"

"I thought there was an alarm!" Alice said.

To Taylor, Sarah said, "She's a breaker. Think Menja and Fenja back home. Only she can't activate her power without drugs. They brewed up a THC cocktail for her, but it's a mental thing. She can get bigger and stronger smoking a joint than taking a pill."

Taylor stared from Sarah to the pouting, deeply inebriated girl on the couch. "You're joking."

"It's not my fault!" Alice proclaimed with a huff.

"No, it isn't," Sarah agreed. Her smile shifted from predatory to conciliatory. "My power makes me a bitch sometimes. But I know it's not your fault. It's nice to meet you. Don't bother getting up, though, we both know you'd fall down."

They stood in what looked like a messy living room, with sofas and an admittedly nice entertainment center that was currently showing Earth Aleph cartoons.

They didn't get much further in before a boy came running out. He wore blue jeans, a blue knit sweater and a Halloween-style wolf mask.

"Sorry! Sorry I was late, sir!" he said breathlessly as he arrived. "Alice was supposed to let me know when you came."

"Yeah, they're here," Alice said lazily from the couch.

The boy rolled his eyes, but then smiled and stepped forward. "I'm Romulus, I'm the team lead. It's great to have you."

To Taylor, the boy felt terrified.

"Likewise," she said with her most harmless smile.

Sarah's grin shifted back to predatory. "He's a werewolf."

"I'm not a werewolf!" Romulus said quickly, eyes-wide. "I don't change under a full moon and any kind of bullet could kill me. I just…'

"Another breaker, turns into a lupine-like creature for up to an hour at any one-time, cumulative total of four hours a day before he's tapped. Brute 4 in his breaker state. Also has a mild thinker rating due to expanded senses while changed."

Seneca shook his head. "Romulus, Alice, this is Insight and Quintessence, our newest wards. Insight is a Thinker 8 transferring from San Diego. And you know…"

"TAYLOR!" A red missile streaked across the room.

Ashwinder launched herself into Taylor's arms, and if not for the Force they would both have toppled.

"You're one of us now!" the girl said, breaking free from the hug to do a little dance. She spun to Alice. "See, you stoner bitch, I told you she was coming!"

Alice flipped Ashwinder off.

"Girls, pretend to be professionals!" Dan said. "And Ashwinder, that's half your allowance in the jar!"

"Totally worth it," Ashwinder said. "Come on, Taylor, I'll show you my room! It's so cool. And the gym is awesome! Did you get to see the obstacle course? They don't let me use it since I burned down the last one, but the new one is really nice…"

Sarah grinned at her before Ashwinder pulled her away.

A/N: For anyone starts screaming "Porn! Porn most foul!" as Worm readers are sometimes want to do, please re-read that scene carefully and point to any graphic description of anything. I can say that because I pointedly edited out any graphic descriptions to ensure compliance with FFN guidelines. As for what happened itself? Well, most folks didn't care for Yuki. A couple did. Yuki's story is not over, though. I wouldn't have included her if she didn't have a role to play. But sometimes a wound can't heal until you rip the band aid off.

And for those worried this is going to turn into a standard Wards fic-it's not. That much I'll promise you.

Stay safe.