Side-Step RH

Ruth didn't like change anymore.

Her parents didn't complain. Boston beat Brockton Bay in almost every way. Better jobs. Better schools. No Nazis. Their daughter out of a gang. Their family no longer hostage to said gang. A gang that regarded even its own members with rampant paranoia. Of course, they didn't complain. Why would they?

Things were better, right?

Objectively yes, but she still hated it. New school. Again. Having to meet new people and figure out who she could be friendly with. Again. New rules governing her life. Again.

For all the high and mighty preaching of the 'good guys', Ruth didn't feel like her life improved much on the other side. Sure, she didn't have a bunch of brutes like Hookwolf's boys – and Cricket – prattling on about toughening her up, or Eva and Victor's circle talking about how she needed a 'proper white boy' in her life. God, those moments were insufferable. She'd never miss that bullshit.

But the PRT hardly seemed different. Nicer. Diverse. Different? No.

She still had older white guys telling her she was on watch because she needed to prove herself. Weirdos who wanted to dress her up in disgusting costumes. A whole team of super powered whatevers to judge her. A whole lot of change for not that much really changing, and she still had no control over any of it.

One fuck up and she still went back to juvie.

She invited some of it on herself, and she admitted as much. She didn't listen when her parents warned her. She took the word of people she shouldn't have on face value. She wasn't even sure exactly how she managed to let things go so far. She stumbled from some small-time militia group, to juvie, to the Empire, and now the damn Wards. Three years of constant, unending, change. She hated growing up in some backwater town, and a mere handful of years later she wanted nothing more than to go back to it.

"Too slow!"

Naomi's fist lashed out. Ruth jerked back, her leg flying up as the girl swept it from behind. Her head snapped back as she hit the mats.

Fuck.

Naomi stood over her while she recovered, running her big mouth. Like a fucking know-it-all.

"You're watching my eyes too much," she said. "I told you. Watch my legs and my feet. You can see everything I'm going to do from my stance. My eyes aren't going to tell you anything."

Yeah, the lesbo wanted her to stare at her legs.

Ruth forced that thought down. Kayden said she needed to stop thinking like that if she ever wanted to be 'normal' again. Ruth didn't particularly care about normal, but she did like the idea of 'anywhere but juvie'.

Easier said than done.

Ruth got back onto her feet and ignored the stares. The Boston PRT set aside a full three hours most days for the Wards to train, but she never expected a Ward would be instructing Wards. The Protectorate or some PRT instructor came by for an hour or so most days, but the next two was mostly the Wards teaching the Wards.

Naomi – Phobos – usually did the teaching.

Thinkers were always arrogant and Ruth decided combat thinkers were even worse. They knew how to throw a punch. The rest of the wards sat or stood around the mats. Except for Hunch. Hunch couldn't actually sit because of his back. He leaned forward on his cane-staff thing, while Rochelle – Spectre – stood right next to him and watched her girlfriend kick Ruth's ass.

"Come on," Naomi said. "Let's go again. Watch my stance this time. Look where I'm putting my weight. Stance. Come on."

Naomi raised her fists like a boxer.

Fucking joke. Ruth saw Hookwolf fight plenty of times, and he'd eat Phobos alive. Combat thinker or not, who decided to let a Ward run a self-defense course for other Wards? Is that how Brockton Bay did it? No wonder the Wards there never got anywhere.

Ruth raised her hands lazily, and Naomi scowled.

Her hand lashed out, grabbing Ruth's wrist. Ruth winced and fell to one knee as Naomi twisted her arm the wrong way.

"You're not taking this seriously," Naomi said. "Your power is good, but you can't rely on it. Anyone who gets seriously close will take you out if you're not ready for-"

"Let me go you stupid nigger-"

Ruth's head snapped back and her vision spun.

She felt her body hit the mats. Saw Naomi staring at her with a shocked expression. The girl's fist shook in front of her. Rochelle came behind her, saying something while the other gathered teens stared or spoke. Ruth didn't really hear through the bell ringing in her ears and the numbness in her face.

Okay. Phobos can fucking punch. Point taken.

A testament to her own bullshit that Ruth didn't even know what she did wrong until she remembered where she was.

Right.

That.

Shit…

One week. She managed to keep her mouth shut for one week.

She glanced around at the gym. Empty, save for her. Would the PRT kick her out for that? Were members of the Protectorate coming down to haul her off? Because of Kayden she got to live with her parents again, even if the PRT was constantly watching. That wasn't much, but it was something. Something that kept her from something worse.

Ruth lingered awhile longer.

She waited long enough that anyone else would be done in the locker room so she could shower alone.

The water soothed the soreness of working out, but it didn't do much for the pain in her cheek. She didn't think she'd have a black eye, but she'd have a sore.

Was that it? Did she fuck it up? Back to juvie in the morning? Kayden stuck her neck out to keep that from happening. Vouched for her that she wasn't a 'real Nazi', whatever the hell that meant. Even stood guard outside her parent's house while they packed up and left Brockton Bay. Did she need to go to their new house now? Tell her parents she'd fucked up? Again.

The sound of a door opening snapped her back to the locker room. She stuck her head under the water and quickly added shampoo. She scrubbed while she waited. Waited for the order to get out and dress, followed by whatever words the PRT used to say she was going back to hell.

Also known as juvie.

The more that thought lingered, the more she realized she couldn't do it again. It didn't matter that she had powers now. No, powers would make it worse. There were capes in juvie, and they wouldn't like Nazis any more than the Wards did. If the PRT sent her to juvie now, the Nazis wouldn't protect her. Word would have gone around. They'd know she switched sides… Tried to switch sides.

"Ruth," Recoil called.

Of course, it would be Recoil. The shockingly old cape wasn't expected to be the leader of the Boston Protectorate forever. Apparently they wanted Lightning to take over because 'PR' or something. That didn't stop Recoil – Kathy – from acting like everyone's grandmother.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," Ruth replied.

"You've been in here for an hour. Actually managed to get Weaver to tell me she was concerned." Weaver? The creepy bug girl? "Did something happen?"

Ruth flinched.

"N-No," she mumbled. "Just… Lingering."

"Alright," Recoil said. "We know it's going to be hard, Ruth. But if we can accept Purity as an ally, we can accept you. You can talk if you want to."

"I- I'm fine."

"Just wanted to be sure someone said it."

The sound of the door closing came a few moments later.

Ruth lingered a while longer.

When she got out of the shower, Recoil wasn't there. Not in the halls either. The first pair of PRT troopers she passed nodded to her and didn't say anything. They didn't seem to pay her any mind as she and they reached opposite ends of the hall.

Did… Did no one say anything? Why wouldn't they say anything?

She dropped a fucking n-bomb in a room full of good guys!

Nervously, Ruth approached the common room. The console was there, and the TV so most of the time the Wards hung in the area. She didn't know if she really wanted to enter, but maybe if she got close enough she could… listen through the door?

Stupid idea. The doors in the PRT building were sound proof.

She debated all the way down the hall toward the door. She stood outside, debating like an idiot.

In the Empire, a casual slur here or there reassured people. It kept them off her back. Gave her that little bit more control in her runaway life. Just a few stupid words… It starts with stupid words. The hill kept going down. You keep taking one little step. Just one little step to get people off your back. You think it's the last step you'll need to take, but you keep taking just one more little step after that.

Reaches the point you're floundering out at sea, with no land in sight and no idea how you let yourself get there. You say and do whatever it takes. You keep going. It's all there is.

There were real monsters in those waters. Real assholes. The only people the Empire treated worse than blacks and Hispanics were 'traitors.' Race traitors. That's the fucking irony of the century. No one gets treated worse by the white supremacists than the whites who aren't supremacist enough.

It would be easy to pretend she only said those things because she was afraid, though. Afraid? Yes, but not all the time.

People didn't get it. They couldn't get it.

It's not about believing, it's about belonging. It's about feeling proud of yourself when you don't, or safe when you're afraid. How many people did whatever the Empire asked just to save their own skins? How many because they didn't have anything better to do? Because they were fucking psychos. It's not like it was constant white power twenty-four seven. No one's that simple, even in the Empire.

Hookwolf valued fight. Not power or powers, fight. People who stood up for themselves no matter what. Stormtiger and Cricket were the same. Alabaster just liked hurting people, and the Empire gave him the excuse. Victor, Eve, and James talked about being true believers, but everything was money to them. Money this and money that. Down with the 'nanny state' and 'it's all the blacks fault they're poor.' Money, money, money. And Kaiser? Kaiser only cared about power. Everyone knew it even if they didn't admit it.

So what is it? What is a Nazi and what isn't? What did it even matter? It's all just words and names. Empty bullshit people make up to make a place for themselves, like a made up language or something.

Or maybe those little steps are just easier to take when you pretend none of it really matters.

"Doesn't matter."

Ruth reached for the panel by the door.

It slid open before she pressed down, and Weaver – Emma – stood in front of her.

"What doesn't matter?" She asked.

Ruth flinched, again. "What?"

"I heard you," she said. She pointed up at the ceiling, and against the light of the common room Ruth saw a few flies buzzing around. "Can't turn my power off."

Right. Creepy bug girl.

Ruth looked past the red head, but, "Where is everyone?"

"Naomi and Rochelle went out. Hunch went to his room. Jaunt, Sheet, and Grell went on patrol. It's late, so everyone else went home." Weaver stepped back. "I'm the only one here right now."

Ruth stepped into the room and looked around again. Weaver crossed the room and took her seat at the console. Ruth followed, glancing around some of the security cameras that were obvious. Were they watching? Laughing? Some reward at her expense because she fucked up like they all knew she would?

Weaver didn't give anything away. She took her seat at the console quietly. She took something into her hand and pressed a file against it. Her hand worked back and forth, raking the file over the surface.

"It's a model," she said.

"A model?"

"You need to smooth out the edges."

Ruth raised her brow. She looked around the room yet again, trying to decide if she was being punked.

"Did you mean it?" Weaver asked.

Ruth averted her gaze. "Mean what?"

"You know what."

It occurred to her she'd never heard Weaver talk so much.

At first Ruth thought she recognized the girl. The red hair, curvy figure, and sharp eyes. Some sophomore at Winslow looked a lot like her. Total bitch. Real queen bee type. Always picking on unpopular kids and getting her black friend to rough up anyone who stood up to her. And Ruth didn't even make up that last part. It literally happened.

She chalked that up to coincidence though.

Weaver – Emma – didn't act anything like that girl. She always hung in the background, and hardly ever said anything. She hardly talked to anyone. Even the other Wards tended to ignore her.

Well, Ruth didn't have room to complain. She only avoided a cell because of Kayden. She'd been in Boston a week and said little more than 'yes' and 'no' until now. Probably the most she'd talked to anyone since Newtype grabbed her.

Weaver did something. Ruth didn't know what, but she didn't imagine the PRT normally stuck ankle monitors on their Wards. No one talked about that either. Ruth knew better than to ask for answers to questions she wasn't supposed to.

In that respect, the Empire and the Wards weren't much different.

"Whatever," Ruth said. "Bitch can't take a joke."

"Were you joking?" Weaver asked.

"That's what I said."

"That's not what I asked."

Ruth scowled.

"You can sit down if you want."

Ruth remained standing for a time. Until her legs got tired.

Was she joking? Her gut instinct was to say yes, but… Bullshit is bullshit. Kind of a testament to how far she'd managed to sink that she could even trick herself with it. When she left home that first time and got herself in over her head it wasn't about the color of anyone's skin. Stupid teenage rebellion. Nothing more or less. People talked like that around her, but she never really thought it meant anything.

Not until juvie.

Not until the gangs there made everything so much worse. Not until she got out and the Empire got involved. After that?

Grell checked in after fifteen minutes, and again fifteen minutes after that. Weaver answered each time, but she never looked up at the monitors. Ruth noticed the spiders only after the third check in. One clung to the corner of each monitor, staring at the screens. Could Weaver see through the bugs? How did that work?

"Does that freak you out?" She asked.

"What?" Weaver asked, her hands still filing away.

"The bugs," Ruth said.

"Not anymore," she said. "They're actually kind of cool. Bugs are simple. It's all about survival for them. They don't judge."

Ruth flinched again, her neck pulling into her chest a little.

Is this right? If no one said anything yet, then she had time. Maybe she could go home and talk. Tell her parents something. Anything. Anything to try and make it better. Or maybe if she came clean it wouldn't be so bad?

"You should apologize if it bothers you so much."

Ruth turned her head. "Do you read minds or some shit?"

"It's on your face," Weaver said. "Apologize, before it lingers."

Ruth scoffed.

"Naomi is nice. She'll forgive you if you say you're sorry. If you don't do it again, at least. Though I'd wait till morning. Naomi and Rochelle tend to spend the night after they go out and Rochelle will be really angry if you try and find them now."

What? Spend the night?

"My power doesn't turn off. And bugs are everywhere."

Ruth needed longer than she liked to realize what the girl meant. Yuck, and not because of the girl-girl thing, just yuck in the general sense of 'yuck'.

"Everyone knows you're Rune," Weaver said.

Ruth forced her composure. "Yeah. Bunch of detectives you are."

"Naomi said we should be nice to you. It's hard leaving a gang, she said. She used to be in one before getting her powers. I have nothing to do half the day but listen and watch. Say you're sorry. Naomi's the person here who will understand. And don't do it again I guess. You'll only get so many chances."

Ruth turned her head away.

Yeah. Apologize… That'll make everything better. It'll be all sunshine and rainbows.

"It's just a word," Weaver said. "Maybe I don't get it cause I'm white, but I don't think mean words are enough to be irredeemable. Just say you're sorry."

She glanced down at the ankle monitor on Weaver's leg.

Hypocrite.

"Did you apologize?" Ruth asked.

The sound of Weaver's file stopped suddenly. Her head remained down, eyes cast toward her hands.

"No," Weaver said.

The sound of the file started again.

"Sorry isn't enough to fix what I did."

Of course she didn't. "And what did you do that's so bad?"

"I killed my best friend."

Ruth tensed.

She said it so coldly. So emotionlessly. Her hand kept working at that plastic, and she just admitted to killing someone. Ruth couldn't remember any news stories about bug murder, but maybe it happened somewhere else? The PRT moved her to a different city rather than keep her in Brockton Bay. Maybe they moved Weaver too.

"Why?" She asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you kill your friend?"

Ruth never… She didn't imagine ever hurting her friends. When Casey and Mindy got hurt at Winslow, she felt more alone than ever. They weren't perfect people. They shouldn't have gone after that n- that girl. She didn't do anything to them.

But they didn't deserve that. Being locked in their own heads, laying in hospital beds clinging to life. Better to be dead than like that, Ruth thought. Life isn't life if you can't live it.

Weaver's file stopped again, and she stared. The look in her eyes became distant, like she was remembering something. Then she blinked and the look vanished, replaced with a blank gaze.

They let her in the Wards. How bad could it really be?

"Because it was easier to just keep going," she said, "than admit I was drowning."

This is another chapter that might change someday. Not sure. On the one hand, I'm not happy with how this chapter plays out. On the other hand, it actually plays into later events in the story really well.