Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

Read on, oh faithful ones...

...

Chapter Twenty

...

"So you've finally worked things out?" Layla asked, grinning at Zach and Ethan at lunch the next day.

"Yes," Ethan said with a grin and nod.

"How'd you know?" Zach asked, frowning slightly.

He and Ethan had purposely taken seats across from each other so he'd be able to resist the temptation to kiss him. Zach didn't want to be stuffed in his locker again, and really didn't want to be ridiculed for liking boys on top of being a Sidekick.

"Because you're playing footsies under the table, and you've kicked my leg more than once," Layla said, laughing softly when Zach paled and immediately withdrew his foot.

"Sorry, Lay," he said sheepishly.

"Don't worry about it," she said, shrugging. A loud scream came from nearby, and Layla gave an annoyed sigh. "It's kind of noisy in here; we're going outside, okay? See you later," she said, smiling briefly as she stood and left, Warren leaving with her.

Looking at each other, Ethan and Zach shrugged and continued to eat their lunches. Beneath the table, Zach moved his foot to touch against Ethan's, a grin on his face.

...

Layla finished the C documents by the time her break started at work that evening. Her alarm went off loudly to remind her, as she was the only one left in the Mayor's office. Outside of The Monster's room, her tray was sitting on a chair with photocopying requests that people hadn't had time for during the day.

As she was grabbing her water bottle and apple, the phone on Ms. Peace's desk began to ring. Startled, Layla went to the phone, wondering if she should answer it. She saw the number that was on the caller ID, and recognised the last few digits as Warren's house number. Picking up, she answered hesitantly, hoping she wouldn't get into trouble for this, as she hadn't been told anything about answering phones after hours.

"Oh, Layla, good, you picked up," Ms. Peace said, and Layla almost sighed in relief. "I just wanted to remind you to have your break now. How are you going with The Monster?"

"It's going quite well; I've finished C now, and after my break, I planned on doing the photocopying requests. There's quite a few," she replied with a bit of a laugh, looking at the tray.

"Really? When I left earlier, there were only about ten. How many are there now?"

"Definitely more than ten, but I'm not sure about the exact number. I can check?" she offered, frowning at the large bundle of paperwork.

"No, it's fine. You go on your break now, okay? When you do the photocopying, count them as you go along and write the number on the sticky pad in my top drawer. I'll come in a bit early to make sure that no one else sees it. There really shouldn't be any more than the ten, possibly fifteen, around this time of year. If it's over that, then that needs to be addressed."

"Oh, no. I couldn't do that. It's really all right, Ms. Peace. It's just a bit of photocopying, really," Layla said in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"Fine, but if you've got more than thirty, you will let me know, won't you? I don't want you to get an injury from too much photocopying, Layla."

An itching sensation began in her head, and she almost sighed in frustration.

"Yes, I'll let you know. I'd better go on my break now. Thank you for calling, Ms. Peace."

"You're welcome. Warren will be by to take you home later. You'll text to let me know you're home safe, won't you? And if you have a problem - anything whatsoever - you call me, okay?"

"Yes, Ms. Peace, I will."

Hanging up from the call after they'd both said farewell, Layla hurried to the staff area to sit down and finally have a drink of water. She finished her apple and water in a matter of minutes, and quickly flicked through her phone to see the photographs of the documents she'd taken earlier.

The B files had a lot of bank and financial-related documents that she didn't find particularly interesting, other than knowing where most superheroes did their banking. In the C's so far, there was another contractor (this one was for the acquisition of overseas specialty items. It was very interesting to note that The Commander had secretly requested a vat of toxic waste from the Mayor without informing Jetstream; it was the very same vat of toxic waste that Ron Wilson had fallen in late last year), and a few receipts for costume-tailors for supers, and orders of special materials that the tailors needed to make the usually-fire-resistant outfits.

Sighing, Layla returned her bottle and phone to her bag, and then picked up her heavy tray of photocopying requests. Most of the requests on the top of the pile were from Stephanie, but there were just as many from Jillian, who Layla vaguely remembered as being an empath and was seated in the same cubicle area as Stephanie.

That probably explained who had been trying to read her emotions after the documents had been scattered by the ceiling fan, Layla thought.

Going over to the photocopier, Layla frowned briefly when she saw that a small red light was flashing in the corner. Pressing the start button to spurt the machine back into life, she saw that there was a paper jam in the copier. Following the directions on the screen, she opened each compartment to find the elusive piece of jammed paper. Unable to find anything, she closed everything up again, but the red light continued to flash at her. Going through the motions again at a slower pace, turning the small wheels to hopefully move the paper out manually, again Layla found nothing. It was completely free of any jammed paper.

Remembering something similar happening to the photocopier at her mother's veterinary practice back when she'd helped over her school holidays, Layla tried to remember how her mother had fixed the problem. Turning it off and restarting the copier had worked that time; maybe it would this time? Deciding that she could probably try it at the very least, Layla turned the machine off and hurried to turn it back on, watching intently for the screen to start up again. She sighed in relief when it started, and the screen stayed clear of any supposed jams. Layla began to photocopy the requests, one by one.

An hour and a half, and forty-six requests later, she had finally finished. Her eyes were bleary from all of the request forms she'd had to fill out; her arm was sore from the repetitive motion of moving and collecting both copies and originals, lifting the lid; and her finger was actually aching from pressing the start button so often.

She vaguely heard her phone ringing from her bag, and went to answer it before it rang out.

"Hippie, where the hell are you?" Warren demanded the moment she answered.

"At work. Why, where are you?" she asked with a frown, turning to actually look at the time.

It was almost past 8:30, and her shift should have finished thirty minutes ago.

"Outside waiting, like I have been for the past forty minutes. What the hell's going on? Did The Monster eat you or something? Can you open the door and let me in?"

"Yeah, I'll be right down."

Layla hung up and hurried to grab her access card before going downstairs to let Warren inside.

"You look exhausted; what happened?" he asked with a frown, seeing her heavy eyes and tired posture.

She hadn't looked this tired after school only five hours ago, and this job had never made her look this exhausted before.

"Started photocopying requests today. There were forty-six requests, yet when your mother left work, there were apparently ten, maybe fifteen. I didn't realise the time. Wait here while I get my bag," Layla said, going over to the elevator.

Before the elevator doors had even closed, Warren had already called his mother.

"Are you okay? Layla hasn't text to say she's home yet, is everything all right?" she asked within seconds of answering.

"She's still at work. Mum, there were forty-six photocopying requests. That's not normal, not unless it's election time, right?" Warren asked, his hands close to flaming in anger.

This was bullying, just a more subtle type of bullying, but either way, he hadn't expected it to come from adults.

"No, it most definitely is not normal," his mother growled, sounding just as angry as he was. "Do you know who they're from? Actually, never mind that, I know who they're from. I thought it was odd that Jillian and Stephanie wanted to stay back; they're usually out of the office at six on the dot. I just didn't think they'd do something like this. Oh, those little bitches. I'll rip them apart tomorrow, this is just not acceptable. They're adults, they should be acting like it!" There was a pause before she continued, "You haven't heard me saying any of this. I could get fired for ragging on my colleagues, even after work and to my son," she muttered.

"Haven't heard a single thing; but if you need to continue, go ahead," Warren said with a brief chuckle.

The elevator doors opened with a cheery ding, but Layla didn't step forward. He frowned and moved to the elevator, only to find Layla there, her eyes closed, her chin resting on her chest as she leaned back against the wall.

"Actually, I think I might have to hang up so I can carry Layla. She's fallen asleep in the elevator. Mum, this is just totally fucked up," Warren muttered.

"Language, Warren!" she admonished immediately. "But you're right. You know what? Wait there, I'll come around and pick you both up. She's probably missed the bus by now, and the next one isn't for another hour. See if you can ring her aunt and let her know that she's staying over."

"It might be better if you do that; Layla's Great Aunt isn't my biggest fan."

"Why not? It's the leather jacket, isn't it?" she asked with a laboured sigh.

"Something like that. I'll stay inside with Layla until you get here, okay?" Warren asked, changing the subject very quickly.

Deciding that she didn't have the energy to manipulate her son's emotions to get the truth, Ms. Peace sighed in resignation, agreed that it was fine, and hung up before getting ready to go out and pick them up.

...

Layla woke up from a pleasant dream where she was lying on the beach, the sun warming her body. In her dream she didn't have to worry about sunscreen, being burnt, or breaking out in a million freckles after a few minutes in the sun. There was no annoying sand in all the wrong places, and she'd dozed off without a care. She sighed slightly, keeping her eyes closed to try and stay in the dream a moment longer.

"All right, hippie?"

Her eyes opening immediately, she sprang back from Warren quickly, wondering what had happened. Layla tried to remember what she'd done after work the night before, but didn't even remember leaving work.

"Calm down; it's okay. You're at my house. Mum called your Great Aunt and let her know that you were too exhausted to catch the bus home. I was going to set you down on the bed and sleep on the sofa - I promise I was, Mum was even itching at me to do that - but you refused to let go of my neck, so I had to stay here with you," Warren explained.

This was probably the most amount of words he'd ever spoken before 8am and before any type of caffeinated beverage in his system. Layla just looked so freaked out and concerned that he felt the need to set the record straight before she completely flipped out on him.

She seemed to relax, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Okay, then. Thanks... I'm really sorry. You didn't have to carry me again, did you?"

"Yes, but not too far. Mum picked us up from the Mayor's office last night after you fell asleep in the elevator."

Layla blinked in surprise, frowning slightly as she tried to remember it. She vaguely remembered closing her eyes to rest as the elevator made its descent from the 6th floor.

"Oh, god. That must have been awful; it's the first time your mother's been home before 7, and then she had to come pick us up because I fell asleep."

"Seriously, calm down, hippie. Mum didn't mind. It was better than trying to get you home when you were that exhausted."

She mustn't have had a very calm expression on her face because Warren rolled his eyes at her, cupped the back of her head in his palm and kissed Layla intently.

"Calmer now?" he murmured when they pulled apart a moment later.

"A bit. You might have to try again," she said with a cheeky grin.

He kissed her again immediately, his hand moving to cup her cheek instead.

"Much calmer," Layla breathed. "Oh god, I've got morning breath, don't I?" she said, wincing.

"So what? I do too; you didn't hear me complaining, did you?" Warren said, shaking his head and kissing her again.

A sharp knock at the door had them pulling apart quickly.

"Time to get up, kids! You've got to get ready for school," Ms. Peace called.

"Coming," Warren called.

"Be right out," Layla added, trying not to blush wildly.

"I'd hope so, or I'd have to turn the hose on you. Coffee's ready on the bench!"

"Thanks!" Warren called back, standing and pulling a towel off the hook on the back of his door. "You want the shower first, hippie?"

"I'll go in after you," she replied.

He nodded and left quickly, the prospect of freshly brewed coffee making him want to have the fastest shower in the history of showers.

When he was gone, Layla looked around for her bag, hoping that she still had her gym shirt inside it and hadn't left it for the laundry. She started when a towel and shirt were thrown onto the bed beside her. She looked up from the dark green shirt to see Warren's mother standing in the doorway, holding a large mug of coffee.

"It's an old shirt that hasn't fit for quite some time. It should fit you though, so you might as well keep it."

With that, she turned and left to get ready for work.

"Thank you!" Layla called after her.

When she tried the shirt on moments later, Layla was surprised to find a piece of cardboard digging into her back. She pulled it out to find that it was actually a price tag. Ms. Peace obviously hadn't owned nor worn the shirt if she'd never taken the tag off of it.

"Shower's free, hippie," Warren said, drying his hair haphazardly with the towel as he walked into the room. "You okay?" he asked with a frown, seeing her sitting on the bed with a shirt in her hands and tears in her eyes.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Layla said quickly, blinking rapidly. "I'll be out in a minute."

She hurried past him, the towel and shirt in her arms.

Shrugging to himself, Warren ran his fingers through his hair and went to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee.

...

"I've got this Friday off; do you want to do a study session after school?" Layla asked Ethan, Zach, and Warren at lunch.

"Fine by me; who's house do we want to go to?" Ethan asked, looking at the others.

"Not yours; it's too far from work for me. Zach's is probably closest," Warren added.

"Yeah, okay. I'll let my 'rents know tonight," Zach said with a shrug.

"Want to do another study session on the weekend too? I could probably use with the more concentrated time, since you know we're going to be watching the Save the Citizen videos on Friday," Layla said with a grin.

"That's not entirely true," Zach protested feebly. "Any idea who you're going against yet?" he asked, grinning.

"Not yet, but I've got a couple of possibilities."

"Do you want the book?" Ethan asked.

"If you've got it with you, yeah. If not, don't worry about it," she replied with a smile.

Ethan pushed his glasses up his nose and turned to his bag, pulling the book out quickly, handing it to her.

"Really, Popsicle, you've started carrying it around with you?" Warren asked with a groan.

"Why wouldn't I? I still get asked about competing against you two, and it's easier to have it with me than try to remember details when I get back to my locker. Besides, by carrying it around with me, I can keep the book from falling in the wrong hands. A lot of people could use that book for nefarious purposes, you know."

"Oh, really? Like who?" Layla asked.

Zach, who had been drinking while Ethan was talking, promptly choked on his water. Warren hid his grin and smacked him on the back.

"Well, I don't know... I mean, if you were asking me this time last year, I probably would have said Warren," Ethan said with a shrug.

"Got a problem with me, Popsicle?" Warren growled.

He eeped in response, quickly shaking his head.

"He's just joking, Eth. Don't look so worried," Zach said, grinning at him.

"I knew that," he replied, adjusting his shirt collar.

"We're going to have to work on that fear of yours, you know," Zach muttered, frowning at Ethan briefly.

"I'm not afraid! Well, not always. And it's not like you don't get scared either," he muttered, stabbing at his food with his fork.

"Oh, I know that. But I also don't tremble like a leaf when Warren threatens me. I can tell the difference between him being angry and him trying to be intimidating."

"Trying?" Warren growled angrily. "My intimidation skills worked fine before you lot came along."

"See, he started off being angry, and then he's just reduced to a pouty ball of flames because Layla's sitting next to him and making sure he won't roast us alive," Zach said, patting Ethan's hand and grinning at him. "If you're going to roast anyone, I've got a list of people who can go first."

"Do you now?" Layla asked, smirking.

"Yep, and it has more than the usual two people on it," he replied, sounding proud.

Warren chuckled. "Congratulations, glow stick."

"I'd like to see that list one day," Layla said with a grin.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Zach said, laughing.

Ethan frowned briefly, wondering if they really were joking. Their tones weren't serious, not really, but what they were saying... It wasn't the sort of thing super heroes would say, was it?

"Are you still all right to record the Save the Citizen games on Friday, Ethan?" Layla asked suddenly, looking at him.

He nodded in response, and as he was drawn back into the conversation, Ethan couldn't help but wonder if she'd changed the subject on purpose.

...

Layla was extremely grateful when the clock chimed six that evening. Apparently, the Mayor had called a mandatory meeting that morning and spent almost two hours lecturing everyone about work ethics, working as a team, and stated in no uncertain terms that bullying of any kind was not to be tolerated.

From the moment she'd walked into the Mayor's office, Layla had felt a sensation of pressure in her head. It wasn't the itching that accompanied Ms. Peace's power, and as she saw Jillian watching her intently, she figured that the empath was attempting to read her emotions. She was confused at the action, briefly wondering if Jillian and Stephanie expected her to be upset or overwhelmed at their little juvenile trick from the night before.

When Ms. Peace had seen her, she'd quickly explained what had happened, and added for Layla not to worry about anything as she was staying late that night to ensure the same thing didn't happen with the photocopying.

On discovering that they wouldn't be alone in the office, the amount of work Jillian and Stephanie had complained about suddenly disappeared, and they'd left at quarter to six. Warren's mother had waited another fifteen minutes to make sure they wouldn't return, and then left for her home gratefully after her busy day.

Sighing to herself, Layla decided to eat while continuing to work on The Monster. She didn't want to leave the room if there was a chance Stephanie and Jillian might be around to ruin her hard work again.

The rest of the evening went by without a hitch. She spoke to the security guard that patrolled the office, photocopied the ten requests from her tray and left the copies on her colleagues' desks, and by the time eight o'clock rolled around, Layla had finished sorting the E documents. (Electricity statements, electoral addresses, and a few pages about energy reducing and saving opportunities that probably hadn't been looked at since they were given to the Mayor.)

After ensuring that everything was secured with paper weights, the fan was off, and the drawers to The Monster were closed, Layla left the small office and locked the door behind her.

Warren had sent her a quick text after her evening break to let her know he wouldn't be able to take her home that night, as there was a large clean up scheduled for all staff to participate in. The health inspector was making the rounds later that week, and they needed to make sure everything was sparkling. Warren added for her to text him the moment she arrived at the house safely. Shaking her head at his over protective nature, Layla shouldered her bag and left, waving goodbye to the security guard on her way out.

Half an hour later, Layla walked into her Great Aunt's house, and was surprised to find that her relative was still awake. Ever since returning from the hospital, her Great Aunt had made it a point to be asleep before Layla returned from work.

Greta was on the phone to Frieda, and seemed to be in the middle of a very long complaint about something. As she closed and locked the door, Layla listened to the conversation in curiosity.

"I still can't believe it. Someone won the second division prize. One person! They didn't even have to share it like those poor bastards who won a thousand dollars between twenty people!" There was a pause in the conversation before her Great Aunt continued. "No, of course it wasn't me. I haven't played lotto since everyone in that syndicate screwed me over... Oh, stop lecturing me about my language, Frieda. I'm old enough to say whatever the hell I want."

Stopping at the lounge room door, Layla knocked on the door. Her Great Aunt spun around in surprise.

"Don't do that, girl! You scared the hell out of me!"

"Sorry. I just wanted to let you know I was home. Have you had dinner yet?" Layla asked politely.

"It's past eight-thirty; of course I bloody well have!"

"Is there anything left over for me?"

"No, why would I bother making dinner for you?" Greta's face reddened slightly when Frieda started berating her loudly on the phone, and she glowered over at Layla. "Oh, do shut up Frieda. I meant that she won't eat anything I make! Of course it's got meat in it; I have to get proteins somehow! I refuse to take those bloody vitamins the doctor keeps trying to get me to swallow!"

Layla went to the kitchen to make something for herself. Cooking up lentils, vegetables, and a handful of pasta, Layla separated the cooked combination into two bowls so she'd have enough for lunch the next day. She could ask Warren to heat it up for her. Thinking of Warren made her remember that she'd meant to text him, and she hurried to do so before he called in worry.

Sitting at the kitchen bench, Layla ate her dinner, her mind thinking of the documents she'd taken photos of that evening, the assignments she still had to work on, and the opponents she planned on choosing for Save the Citizen the next day.

Frowning slightly when she realised exactly what her Great Aunt's first complaint had been about, Layla turned on the television to try and find the results for the lottery.

...

End of the twentieth chapter.

Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it.