Trigger warning: Mention of sexual assault.
If you are dealing with sexual assault or its aftermath, you are not alone. There are resources available for you, including free confidential help at the National Sexual Assault Hotline (1-800-656-4673).
Disclaimer: The Sky High franchise doesn't belong to me.
"Why didn't you stay with your hero when you graduated," he asks one lazy morning in a post-coital haze, still nursing bruises from last night's heroics.
She snorts, propping herself up on her elbow so she can look down at him.
"I didn't get a hero," she says.
"Everyone gets a hero," he says, dragging her down suddenly so she's laying on top of him.
"They were going to put me with Speed," she says, "But he wasn't available anymore. There's always a few sidekicks who don't get a hero."
"Speed?" Warren sounds angry, but all she does is shrug, rubbing her hand down his chest, his ribs, his pelvis, lower, and watches him forget all about the anger.
"He was my cousin," she says, and he's too distracted to respond.
Later, when they've both showered and dressed, he asks her again.
"Why didn't you request another hero? Half the pairings never work out, anyway."
This time, when she laughs, it's bitter.
"Speaking from experience, huh?" It's his turn to shrug. "I didn't want to go off hero-ing. It's just really not my thing."
He nods, but it's not the end of it. Days later, he brings it up again -
"Why didn't you want to be a hero?"
She sighs, starting to get annoyed.
"Dude, can we not? I didn't want to be a sidekick. I hated the way they treated us in school, and I didn't want to end up like Mr. Boy, a washout still wearing knickerbockers."
"You'd never be caught dead in knickerbockers," he says, wrapping her up in his arms and pinching her ass. "They'd dress you up in a skirt or nothing at all."
She laughs at the feel of his lips on her neck, but pushes him away gently, annoyance forgotten. She could never stay annoyed at him. Angry, sure, but annoyed? Never.
"Another reason - I didn't want to be beholden to some macho asshole thinking my body belonged to him because we wore the same colors."
She sighs, and he does his best not to let that thought ignite the fires in his hands. They sit at his kitchen table. This time, they're both dressed.
"Have you ever killed someone?" He tenses, but she doesn't seem to want an actual answer. She sort of slumps, resting her head on her hand and looking vaguely at the middle of the table instead of at him.
"I was thirteen," she starts, "We had this neighbor."
He isn't sure where this is going, but he doesn't like it. Anything that can make her look so haunted can't possibly be good.
"He was just - you how neighbors are. They're weird. You see them watching you and you're like, oh yeah that's just what Mr. Dilson does. And it's fine, except he starts knocking on the door and asking if I want to play with his dog, and my dad starts getting worried so he tells him to fuck off. And then - well, I don't know. My dad was out getting drunk one night and I thought he might've lost his key again, so I, like an idiot, opened the door when he knocked."
She is tense, and upset, and he holds onto the table top so he doesn't interrupt her.
"Well," she continues after a moment, "I said no, I swear I remember saying no. I ran away, too, and he didn't like that. He caught me - um, well, you know I got my powers when I was young. I didn't know I could bring someone in with me then. I just thought it didn't work, when I could still feel him - he wouldn't stop - so I did it again. I ran away, and I didn't go back until my dad was there, and I didn't wonder why Mr. - why our neighbor had disappeared."
She's not crying, but her voice is hollow, and he gives in. He gets up, crossing to her side in half a second, dropping to his knees and hugging her against his chest. She does not resist, dropping her head to his shoulder. He can hear her as she says -
"The police came around to ask when we had last seen him. Turns out he had a stash of child porn in his apartment, but I think they still have a missing persons case on him. He just - disappeared one day. Didn't even let his dog out."
His grip on her is tight, but she doesn't mind. She hasn't talked about this with anyone in ages. It's not easy.
"That was June," she says. "School started in September."
"Fuck," Warren curses, softly, and she chuckles into his shoulder.
"I didn't really want anything to do with my powers after that."
"So that's why Boomer didn't see what was in front of him," he says, "You didn't want him to."
She nods, extricating herself from him. He gets up, sitting on the edge of the table and looking at her.
"I can open and close moments," she says, "But once they're closed, they're gone. I don't know what happened to him, but nothing changed in my apartment. I don't - well, I don't think he could touch anything. I don't know if he died when I blinked, or whether he's still stuck in the same moment, wandering forever -"
"He deserves worse than that," Warren interrupts, fists smoking. It makes her smile despite herself.
"Yeah," she agrees, "But I still hate it. I never wanted my powers to feel like that, but I can't bring anyone in without worrying I'm going to forget them somehow in that moment when I blink out."
"You brought me in," he reminds her.
"I didn't have a choice," she says.
But it's still something, and it helps.