Disclaimer: I don't own Sky High.

Read on, oh faithful ones...

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Chapter Twenty-Eight

...

As Josie entered her home, she found that she was still reeling from the information Layla had told her over lunch. She just couldn't understand why Will didn't want to be part of the Stronghold Three.

Had she done something wrong? Was he embarrassed to be fighting alongside Steve and herself? Why didn't Will think that he could tell her that he didn't want to fight with them? She was a good mother, and an approachable one, surely?

"Hello, Mrs. Stronghold," Magenta said as Josie came into the kitchen.

"Oh, hello Magenta. I didn't know you were coming over today," Josie said, glancing at the mess in the kitchen and feeling her stomach knotting. "I'm sorry about the mess in the kitchen. It's usually much cleaner than this, but we had pizza last night and the boys were too lazy to put their plates away," she said, hurrying over to the bench to clean it properly. (She might have risen a couple of centimetres from the ground in her rush.)

"It's fine, Mrs. Stronghold. I have a younger brother, and he doesn't put anything away either," Magenta said with a wry grin.

Josie nodded absent-mindedly, already starting to clean the kitchen. "Where's Will?" she asked, her tone a little too intense to sound casual.

"He went upstairs with Mr. Stronghold. Something about a weight-lifting challenge. I didn't want to get squished by one of those weight plate thingies, so I decided to stay downstairs instead," she replied.

"Oh. Has Will finished his homework then?" Josie asked, frowning.

Magenta was silent for a long moment. "I don't think so. Sorry, Mrs. Stronghold."

"It's not your fault, Magenta. Will! Steve!" she called loudly.

A few loud crashes came from upstairs, metal hitting metal, and she finished putting the dishes away in the dishwasher when Will and Steve came into the kitchen, looking a little breathless and guilty.

"Hello, dear. Have a good lunch?"

"Fine. Will, why haven't you finished your homework?"

"Ah, well, Dad challenged me to a weight-lifting competition. I couldn't say no, Mum. I need to keep my strength up!" (He found that he could lift even more than what he'd pretended to lift at the beginning of last year, and lifting that weight 200 times was a breeze.)

"Why?"

"Well, so I can... y'know, join you and Dad. Be part of the Stronghold Three," Will said with a brief grin, not understanding why she was questioning him over this.

Usually, the moment he'd made any sort of reference to his powers had resulted in hours' long conversations about the Stronghold Three; costumes, colours, names, the whole nine yards.

"But you don't want to be part of the Stronghold Three, do you Will?" Josie asked, looking at him pointedly.

"Uh, I might just get going now. Mum wants me to babysit my brother anyway," Magenta said, gathering her things quickly.

There was a long and awkward silence as Magenta packed up, and she kissed Will's cheek as she said goodbye and left, coming close to running out of the house just to escape the awful tension-filled atmosphere.

"But you have to be part of the Stronghold Three, Will. Otherwise it'd just be the Stronghold Two. And your mother and I are already doing that," Steve said, frowning.

"Who told you I don't want to be part of the Stronghold Three?" Will asked his mother with a frown.

"I figured it out myself, Will. I'm your mother, I can tell when something's bothering you," she said firmly.

"Ah, okay then. Well, it's not that I don't want to be part of the Stronghold Three," Will said, already floundering over his words and what to say.

"But?" Josie queried, giving Steve a look to keep him quiet.

"But... I don't want to be part of the Stronghold Three. I mean, you and Dad are a great team, the best in the world. But I don't want to ruin that for you. I'll be in the way, and I'd hate it if something happened because you two were always worrying about me," Will said, hoping to appease their egos as he skimmed over the real truth.

Josie was silent for a moment, thinking back to the conversation she'd had with Layla. She'd told her that Will didn't want to disappoint them. He didn't want to ride on their coat-tails to get by in the super world. He wanted to be his own person without being in the shadows of his famous parents any more than he already was.

"You really mean that you don't want to be in our shadows any more, don't you, Will? We're two of the most famous superheroes in the world, and you're already trying to live up to the name and example we've set for you, aren't you?" Josie asked.

Will wasn't entirely sure that he was, or even what his mother was actually talking about towards the end there, but he nodded quickly. Anything to make this conversation stop.

"You're right, and we shouldn't have done that to you. We should have considered what it'd do to you if you were brought into the Stronghold Three," Josie said, sighing heavily. "From now on, there'll be no more talk about the Stronghold Three, and while we'll be upset and worried at first, your father and I will be so very proud of you when you go out there on your own and defeat your very first villain," she said, hugging him.

"Uh, thanks Mum. You really mean it? I don't have to be part of the Stronghold Three?" Will asked warily.

"I mean it. We mean it, don't we, Steve?"

"We do? I mean, of course we do. Go out there and be your own man, son," Steve said, slapping him on the back.

"Okay then. Thanks. I'm going to go catch up with Magenta now," Will said, grinning at his parents and running out of the house before they could change their minds.

"So who's going to be the third person in the Stronghold Three now? Josie?" Steve called, frowning when his wife rolled her eyes at him and left the room.

...

"Why do you look so happy, hippie?" Warren asked her as he washed the dishes at the Paper Lantern.

Everyone else had already left, leaving Warren to clean up the kitchen. Layla, who had finally finished her afternoon of working at the Mayor's office to help with the upcoming election, had slipped in through the back door to surprise him, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades and watching him relax as he turned to kiss her properly. She'd pulled away to let him finish his job and as he stacked the dishwasher, Layla told him about the lunch conversation she'd had with Josie Stronghold.

"I'm fairly certain that I broke up the Stronghold Three before they'd even begun," Layla said, grinning broadly. "They might've been a serious threat if all three of them were fighting together, but separately they'll be easier to deal with."

"You really think defeating the Commander and Jetstream will be easy?"

"I didn't say it would be easy. I just said it'd be easier than if it was all three of them. I was being optimistic, not stupid," she said, grinning.

"Speaking of optimism, are you staying at my place tonight?" Warren asked, smiling at her with that broad heart-melting smile she was so fond of.

"Not tonight," Layla said, shaking her head. "I haven't stayed at Greta's house for a few nights, and if I don't stay there at least once this weekend, she'll call Frieda."

"All right, I'll take you home then," Warren said, putting the last clean dish away and taking off his apron.

Layla waited patiently as he went to grab his bag from the locker area, and they left through the back door, Warren locking the door behind them firmly.

"How's the election stuff going?" Warren asked as they headed to the bus stop.

"Not bad. The Mayor seems to be getting a lot of public support in the polls, and the phones are ringing like crazy. I swear I saw your mum answering two phone calls, writing an email, and faxing someone else all at the same time."

"Doesn't surprise me," he muttered, shaking his head with a grin.

The bus pulled up, the driver nodding at them as they boarded. Layla talked more about her work as the bus trundled along, Warren watching her facial expressions and exaggerated hand movements more than he was listening to what she was actually saying. He glanced out the window and saw that Layla's stop was coming up very damn soon, and pressed the button before they missed it entirely. The bus screeched to a halt, and Layla thanked the driver as they got off the bus. She quietened down as they walked along the street, and he cringed on seeing Frieda's car in the driveway.

"If she calls me cutie, I won't be hold accountable for my actions," Warren muttered.

"There's no need for such dramatics until she brings up baby names," Layla replied firmly, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Not funny, hippie," he growled.

Layla just smiled at him and knocked at the front door, opening it carefully. "Greta, I'm home," she called.

"About time, young lady. What sort of hour do you call this?" Greta asked, coming out of the lounge room with a glare. "And you're bringing Warren into my house at this time, too?"

"Warren offered to walk me home, since he didn't want me catching the bus on my own so late at night. The Mayor's work for his electoral campaign finished later than I expected, and I didn't get a chance to text you. Sorry, Greta," Layla said demurely.

"See, Greta, I told you there was a valid reason Layla was out so late," Frieda said, leaving the lounge room with a sigh. "And it was lovely of Warren to bring you home safely. You must be exhausted, you poor dear," she added, patting his hand gently.

"I'm all right, thank you Mrs. Olgestein," Warren said with a quick smile.

"Uh-uh, not anymore. You are now looking at Ms. Frieda Ruth Bettendorf," Frieda said proudly, showing her ring-less finger.

"Your divorce was finalised already? That was quick; I thought Henry was going to take you to court?" Layla asked in surprise.

"He changed his tune," Greta said, knowing perfectly well that Layla knew why the divorce had been settled so damn quickly - Layla had been the one to force Henry into giving Frieda exactly what she wanted, after all!

"Indeed he did. I even got the Monet painting," Frieda said, smiling. "He always claimed that it was a fake just so he wouldn't have to pay higher insurance, but I got it valued last week and it's real. I've got it locked in a vault until it can be donated to the art museum."

"That's very nice of you, Frieda," Layla said.

"It's the least I could do. That bastard ex-husband of mine hid the thing away in a smelly old warehouse for years, it's time the world got to see the painting's beauty once more."

"Layla's home safe, you can go now," Greta said to Warren, waving at him in a shooing motion.

"Oh, no, he couldn't go yet. The bus doesn't come for another thirty minutes, you don't want to wait outside in the cold for all that time," Frieda said to Warren, shaking her head.

"I don't mind, Ms. Bettendorf," Warren said, seeing the glare on Greta's face.

"Nonsense. Come on, cutie. We'll go into the kitchen and I'll make everyone hot chocolate. I'm sure Greta won't mind," Frieda added over her shoulder, taking Warren's arm and leading him away before anyone could protest.

From the tense set of his shoulders, Layla could tell that Warren was trying not to lose it at being called cutie yet again.

"No, I don't mind," Greta said between clenched teeth, each word sounding as if it was being forced from her unwillingly.

Layla briefly wondered if Honey was a second generation super, or if she'd tell her even if she asked.

"What sort of hold does Frieda have over you?" she asked Greta, not really expecting an answer.

"It's none of your business!" she hissed, pushing past to go to the kitchen.

Well, that just confirmed the fact that Frieda did have something to hold over Greta. Layla shook her head and headed into the kitchen as well, hoping that Frieda would use soy milk for her drink.

...

Wendy was tired of always looking over her shoulder, waiting for something or someone to come up to her and tell her that her debt to Layla and Warren was due. She decided to do something about it and deliberately sat next to Layla during the next school assembly.

"Hello Wendy. Is there something I can do for you?" Layla asked, sounding pleasant but confused as to why she was sitting there.

"I want to talk to you about my debt."

"There isn't much to talk about, but if you insist," she said, shrugging. "When would you like to meet?"

"Sooner rather than later. I don't want to put this off."

"Fine. It'll have to be here at school; I have to work in the evenings. How about tomorrow after Save the Citizen?"

"Fine by me," Wendy said.

They both fell silent as Principal Powers stood up to give her speech about camaraderie and being team players. Wendy found it odd that Layla was watching and listening intently, as if she was actually serious about being a model citizen (or superhero). She'd add it to the list of questions she wanted to ask Layla tomorrow.

...

"I am very pleased to announce that the installation of the cameras throughout Maxville's metropolis has been completed in exactly two weeks," the Mayor announced with a broad smile. "Testing has also been completed in this time, so all areas of the media will now be able to record any future fights between a villain and the Commander and Jetstream in complete safety."

With his speech to the press finished, the reporters applauded briefly and then started asking questions. The questions were mostly reiterations about what the Mayor would do with the cameras (which he stressed was nothing; they wouldn't even turn the cameras on unless a fight was occurring), and if the citizens of Maxville could access the cameras during a fight for real-time images (the possibility was being worked on, but as of yet there were no current developments for this happening).

In the wings of the Mayor's office, Nina was standing with Layla, grinning broadly.

"How about you finish early tonight and I'll take you and Warren out for dinner with my winnings?" Nina offered.

It took Layla a moment to realise that Nina had won the office's bet, and the rather substantial kitty that had been collected.

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that, Nina. It's your money," Layla started to say.

"Exactly, and I want to take you and Warren out for dinner," Nina interrupted. "It's been a while since I've dressed up and gone somewhere fancy. As I don't particularly want to dine alone, I'm inviting you and dragging Warren along with me."

Layla hid a smile at the thought of Nina physically dragging her son anywhere.

"All right then, Ms. Peace. I'd love to go out to dinner with you. I'll try to finish work at seven o'clock instead of eight, would that be all right?"

"Perfect. Now, I've just got to convince my son to wear a pair of jeans that doesn't have a hole in them," Nina said with a grin.

...

"We're going to dinner, not a funeral, Mum. I refuse to wear a tux," Warren said through the door, pulling a shirt over his head.

"I'm taking you out to a nice restaurant. They won't let you in with hole-filled jeans," Nina replied pointedly.

"Fine, I'll wear pants that don't have holes, happy?"

"Leave the leather jacket at home and I will be," she replied.

"Not happening!"

"Why not?"

Warren sighed and opened the door. "Because I'm comfortable in this jacket, and I'm not compromising my comfort for some stupid restaurant that probably serves things in calorie sizes."

"I suppose that's a good enough reason," Nina said with a sigh, going to get her bag from the lounge room. "I hope you're going to compliment me in the next five minutes, by the way. It's the first time I've been able to fit into this dress in seven years!"

"Didn't think I'd seen that dress before. You look nice."

"Nice? Please, I look fabulous," Nina said, laughing. "Come on, let's go out," she said, kissing his cheek and heading out.

Warren wiped his cheek quickly and followed her.

...

Layla thanked the waiter as she made her way into the restaurant, the man guiding her to where Warren and Nina were already waiting.

"I'm so sorry I'm late. I would have called to let you know, but I must've forgotten to charge my phone last night," she explained, sitting down on the chair the waiter pulled out for her. "Thank you," Layla said to the waiter over her shoulder with a smile.

"Not at all, Miss," he replied with a brief nod, leaving to get their menus.

"It's nothing to worry about, Layla. You were only a few minutes late," Nina said, smiling at her reassuringly. "Was there a lot to do? Is the photocopying too much?"

"Oh no, the photocopying's a lot easier now that it's all being scanned and emailed. The radio interviews that were scheduled for the Mayor tomorrow morning were changed at the last minute, so I had to sort that out. It took a bit longer than I expected."

"What happened?" Nina asked, frowning slightly.

"Apparently interviewing the actor for latest the action-romantic-comedy movie that's coming out this weekend is more important than their interview with the Mayor. They wanted to change his appointment to the Friday afternoon slot, which means he would miss a large percent of the younger voters who go out on Friday night rather than listen to the radio."

"So what'd you do?" Warren asked.

The waiter interrupted with a brief apology, offering the menus and enquiring about their drink orders. They placed their drink order and took a moment to look at the menus. Layla raised her eyebrows at the exorbitant prices for what looked to be rather small servings - if the other diner's plates were anything to go by, at least - and Warren grinned, nudging his mother when he saw that the calorie size was listed beside each meal.

"Shut up or you won't get anything," Nina threatened.

Warren wisely shut up and returned his attention to the menu, a grin tugging on his lips.

When the waiter returned, they placed their orders, waiting until he had left again before resuming their conversation.

"I ended up cancelling the appointment with that radio station and getting five appointments with their competitors instead. It might be a lot for the Mayor, but I was able to cancel the appointments for the day after, so he'll be able to relax."

"I can find the name of his favourite pampering place; it might tide him over easier," Nina offered.

"Thank you, I'm sure he'd appreciate that," Layla said with a smile.

"The Mayor has a favourite pampering place?" Warren asked, chuckling.

"Yes, it's very relaxing for someone in such a high-profile and stressful position. There are decisions that the Mayor has to make that no one knows about, let alone would ever want to make for themselves," Nina said sternly.

"Like what?" Warren asked in disbelief.

"The kinds of decisions that I don't have clearance for, but involve a lot of nameless men in black suits," Nina replied.

"Sounds interesting," Layla said, smiling brightly. "Oh, there's our food," she said suddenly, nodding over Nina's shoulder.

"Great, I'm starving," Warren said, sitting up a bit straighter.

"We've only been waiting fifteen minutes, I seriously doubt you're hungry enough to be starving, Warren," his mother replied, shaking her head slightly.

"Spaghetti fungi?" the waiter asked, serving the plate to Layla when she nodded.

Warren's chilli con carne and Nina's chicken Singapore noodles were served next, and the table fell into silence as they all ate quietly. As she twirled strands of spaghetti on her fork, Layla wondered just what sort of decisions the Mayor had to make that would involve people that - from the sounds of things - were from the Super Bureau.

...

End of the twenty-eighth chapter.

Thank you for reading!