A Side AB

Anne forced her back straight as she marched up to the doors. She couldn't get the image out of her head. The look of pure pain, betrayal, and fear. Fear. Asking the question felt stupid after seeing that emotion barely hidden on Taylor's face.

What did you do, Emma?

Anne met Sophia once during a Thanksgiving dinner. The girl was rough and mean, but she wasn't dominating anyone. Anne didn't buy the story on the news for a second. Taylor stopped coming to the house, and then she had powers? Emma got in trouble for something and then she got powers?

And now no one wanted to talk about it.

Her parents spoke around it. Her mother looked broken, and her father looked guilty. One told her not to ask about it, as if she were a witness in a courtroom, and the other just said that she couldn't talk about it. Emma would rather hang up than talk about Taylor over the phone. Taylor clearly didn't want to so much as look at her and Uncle Danny seemed ready to tell her but the pain on his face…

Anne couldn't stand it anymore.

The whole Wards thing never sat right in the first place. Why in Boston? Why did the PRT keep Emma hidden for so long? She'd only started patrolling and doing PR events a few weeks ago. Anne read that the PRT liked to train Wards before sending them out, but for five months? Boot camp was shorter than that.

The receptionist raised his head as Anne approached. She kept her eyes forward and ignored the pounding in her chest. She knew she could get arrested for this, but she didn't care.

She kept thinking back to the news. Taylor and Sophia's faces on every channel. The Butcher attacked Taylor at school. Anne watched every video of the fight. Especially the ones where people showed Taylor almost died because something stabbed her through the chest. Glory Girl had to fly off and grab her sister and then the city got wrecked when the Butcher decided to race a muscle car.

Anne didn't really understand what any of it meant, and she didn't care. She couldn't take it anymore.

Someone in her family was going to tell the truth.

The receptionist rose.

"Can I help you ma'am?" he asked.

Anne steeled herself, very aware of the armed guards standing in the corners of the lobby.

"I'd like to see my sister please."

"Is she an employee here?"

"She is."

"Do you have a Form 234?"

There are forms for this?

Anne swallowed. "I want to see my sister."

"Ma'am. This is the PRT. We don't just let people wander the building." The man glanced to one of the guards in the corner. "And I feel I need to inform you that disrupting the operations of the PRT is a federal offense."

"I am not leaving until I see my sister."

The man scowled, clearly irritated. "Ma'am—"

He stopped when the phone on his desk rang. He watched Anne with both eyes while he reached for it.

"Security?" he asked. Then he looked away, surprised. "Yes. Alright. Right away." He hung up and turned back to Anne. "First door to my right."

"Thank you," Anne said before moving to the door.

Part of her expected to be arrested. Cape on the other side of the door? PRT troopers? Normal cops? She heard the snap of a lock as she reached for the handle and when she pushed, it slid right open.

Two troopers on the other side raised their hands.

"Forward," one said, a woman. "Wait here."

Anne stopped. They didn't read her her rights, so...good sign? She got past the lobby at least. Maybe they were sending Emma down to her?

She waited about fifteen minutes. A man turned the corner further down the hall. He wore a dark suit with a bright tie.

"Ms. Barnes the elder, I assume?" he asked.

"Yes," Anne answered. "Who are you?"

"Kamil Armstrong," he said. "Director, PRT Department 24."

Oh.

"I—"

He interrupted her, saying, "What you're doing is illegal, Ms. Barnes. The PRT goes to great effort to protect the identities of Wards. Showing up here and threatening to make a scene puts your sister in danger."

Anne frowned.

She knew that. For a time she thought that was why she'd ended up in Boston. Emma did some modeling and photo-shoots back in Brockton Bay. Her hair, her figure. She'd might be recognized by someone, even with a mask.

But that wasn't why, was it?

"I have to talk to her and she won't," Anne explained.

"This is about the news, isn't it?"

"Yes."

The man watched her. She knew she wouldn't leave. She'd rather be arrested than keep being left out to dry by everyone around her.

Emma and Taylor were best friends. Closer than Anne had ever been to anyone. They did almost everything together.

What changed? What changed so much that Emma would do all the things people said she did? Anne didn't buy the story that Shadow Stalker—Sophia Hess—pushed her to do it.

Emma was stubborn. Determined. Strong. She didn't let people just push her around. And she did have a mean streak.

But why Taylor? All the times they played cape—Taylor was always the hero—it felt wrong. Why wasn't Emma there, with her best friend?

"I have to see her," Anne repeated.

Armstrong looked at her for a long moment, and finally nodded. "Come with me."

Anne perked up slightly and followed.

"Did you drive here?" he asked as they went.

"Yes."

"Does anyone know you're here?"

Anne got a sinking feeling, but answered, "No."

"At least there's that. Hopefully there aren't any reporters keeping tabs on you."

Anne had not considered that.

They got into an elevator that went up a long time. The building did look tall from the outside. Way bigger than the PRT building in Brockton Bay. When the elevator doors opened, they walked down a short hallway to a heavy door.

Armstrong pressed his hand to a panel and the door unlocked. On the other side was another hallway, and a cape. Tall, and covered from head to toe by a black costume.

"Director," she said.

"Recoil. This is Anne Barnes. She's very insistent on seeing Weaver."

The cape turned her head. "I see."

"If you wouldn't mind?"

"No. Of course not."

With that, Armstrong waved Anne through the doorway.

"Next time," he stated firmly, "you will be arrested, Ms. Barnes. Don't do this again."

"Fine."

Anne stepped through the door and Recoil led her down the hall.

"You're the sister, then?" the cape asked.

"Um. Yeah."

"You look alike."

"We take after our mom."

Like Taylor did.

Anne had almost forgotten what Aunt Annette looked like. Then she saw Taylor and remembered. She looked so much like her. Like her dad too, more so than Anne or Emma looked like their father, but the hair and the eyes? Taylor's entire face was Aunt Annette's. Aunt Annette who Anne was named after. And just seeing Anne terrified her. She hid it well, put up a good strong front.

Anne still saw the tension in Taylor's shoulders. The hurt in her voice. The way her eyes glared with accusations of betrayal. Anne knew none of it was directed at her.

"In here," Recoil said. She pointed to a door. "I have to ask you not to wander. There are other Wards on this floor and I need to tell them there's a visitor."

"Right. Is Emma—"

"Weaver is inside."

Anne nodded and quickly walked past the woman. The door didn't open for her. Recoil pressed a hand against a panel parallel to the frame and something in the wall clicked. Then the door opened and Anne quickly stepped through.

She intended to call out, but Anne froze before she could open her mouth.

That's a lot of spiders.

Terrariums lined the room in six rows. Big ones; as tall as Anne herself. Inside, spiders climbed along beams and bars, spinning webs into sheets. Hundreds of spiders. Not particularly big ones, but still. Hundreds of spiders. Anne knew Emma's power was bugs, but still. Hundreds. Of. Spiders. Furry and brown and creeping and she felt her skin crawling through the glass.

"Emma," Anne whispered. She inhaled and called louder. "Emma?"

Anne took a few cautious steps forward. A few of the terrariums were open at the top, but the spiders weren't crawling around the room. They all remained tucked into their glass houses, spinning webs.

"Emma?"

As she walked she saw that some of the spiders were working on more than sheets of silk. A few of the terrariums contained longer and thinner strips with patterns etched into them. The spiders moved in smooth lines like little soldiers, left then right and back again. Others contained shirts, pants, even gloves and socks

Where are you?

Could Recoil be wrong? PRT couldn't be that incompetent, right? Missing a Ward who had 'strong armed everyone around her into bullying a peer' was one thing. Completely losing track of where Emma was when that story was total bullshit?

Catching a single glimpse of red in the otherwise white and sterile room of brown crawlies, Anne picked up her pace. In the back of her mind, part of her worried. Emma controlled all the spiders in the room, right? All the hundreds of the damn things. Did they jump? Were they venomous? Would they attack her if Emma told them to?

It was a stupid thought but she couldn't help but feel that small pang of fear.

Fear of her own sister, who she wasn't sure she really knew anymore.

Anne came around the corner and stopped. "Emma..."

Anne barely recognized her. Emma took meticulous care with her… Everything. She applied makeup like a pro. Washed, conditioned, combed, and styled her hair like it was a religious obligation. She dressed in fashionable clothes and shoes all the time. Anne always took it as a point of pride that the Barnes family girls were hot as hell and not completely self-absorbed about it.

And the girl cowering on the floor didn't look like Emma. She did, but she didn't.

Anne felt that pang of fear sink further.

Emma raised her head slightly, green eyes looking at Anne.

"Hi, Anne." The girl rose up quickly, and she seemed so small. Completely unlike her. "What are you doing here?"

At least she spoke. For a second there Anne wondered if her sister had gone mute.

Anne kept looking at her face. Her hair. Her everything.

Her hair wasn't a mess, and her makeup was still pretty, and her clothes stylish. None of it really popped though. Her hair was straight and combed, but not styled. Her face lacked anything more than the bare minimum of makeup. Her clothes were a sports bra and yoga pants. Comfortable they may be, but Emma would never be caught dead in something so plain. She always dressed her best.

"Are mom and dad here?" Emma asked.

"Mom and Da—No. No, they're not here."

Emma avoided looking her in the eye. "Why are you here?"

Why? Because she was furious and confused. Anne planned to come in like a hurricane, to demand answers and to be as loud and aggressive as she needed to be to get someone to finally spill and tell her what happened.

Looking at her sister now… She didn't have it in her.

And to tell the truth, "I'm worried about you."

Emma shrugged and pulled her hands behind her back. "I'm fine." She turned to the terrarium behind her. "I've been doing arts and crafts!" In the terrarium, a team of spiders skittered about, weaving a sleeve onto a shirt. "Carly thinks it would make good merchandise, and I always wanted to be in fashion. I'm just making it instead of wearing it, I guess."

A distraction, and a bad one.

Anne inhaled and tightened her hands in her pockets.

"What happened with Taylor?"

"Dr. Oliver says a hobby is good for me too so-"

"Emma." Anne managed to work up some small storm and stepped up behind her sister. "What happened with Taylor?"

She held her ground, watching her sister's back and waiting. Emma started to speak a few times but stopped more than once. Anne kept waiting. The spiders had all stopped, which put an extra layer of creepy on the awkward silence. Anne couldn't help but wonder how it worked. She didn't plan on asking though.

"I'm not leaving 'til someone tells me what happened."

The subject would not change.

She wanted answers and Emma was going to give them.

The silence dragged out. Anne noticed the spiders started moving again, faster than before. They scurried about their projects, assembling the garments in each terrarium. Anne noticed for the first time the flies flying into the cases through the opening on the top. She'd never watched a spider eat before, but then again she'd never seen dozens of spiders eat all at once. Emma had them cycling between work and food like crazy.

"I messed up," Emma mumbled.

How informative.

Anne wanted to say it aloud, but the snarky response died in her throat. Emma had been so distant for so long. Part of Anne wondered if it was simply because she became distant and didn't see Emma much anymore. Sometimes though, Anne felt like her sister was a completely different person.

Not now.

Now she looked like… Emma. Still, "How? Stop avoiding the question. Tell me what you did."

"It was me," she said meekly.

"You what?"

"Me. I'm the one who bullied everyone into bullying Taylor, not Sophia."

Anne blinked.

Why did that shock her? She already knew it, didn't she? She expected that answer because she knew it to be true even before coming here. So why did hearing Emma say it feel so painful? Taylor wasn't her best friend, but Anne grew up with her too. Taylor and Emma were closer than Anne had been to either of them. They went hand in hand. Two pieces of a whole.

So why? "Why…"

"Because… Taylor cried for two week straight after her mom died, and it was so annoying."

Anne's heart jumped. "What?"

"It was so pathetic and when it stopped she didn't get better. She just kept moping and being sad and it wasn't the same as before." Anne started to speak, but before she could, Emma said, "And I didn't understand what it felt like to break. Not until the alley."

Alley? Anne thought back, remembering something. She'd already left for college but she called one night and their mother was frantic. Emma was attacked, she said. Men pulled her out of the car and threatened to cut her and she wouldn't come out of her room for days. Anne came back at the end of the week but everything seemed fine…

And Sophia was sitting where Taylor usually sat.

"I thought it would be okay," Emma said. "Taylor was broken too and we could be broken together. But she wasn't broken. She came back from camp and she was smiling and happy. Just like she used to be. Like her mom didn't die."

Anne watched the spiders. They weren't weaving anymore. Not in the right patterns. They'd become erratic and frantic, moving completely out of sync with each other.

"And I don't know why I did it. I snapped at her and I felt so angry. Why wasn't she broken too?"

Anne grabbed Emma's shoulder and turned her. Tears streaked down her face, but she looked placid.

"I thought—I felt so pathetic and I took it out on Taylor." Emma heaved. "I don't even know why anymore. Like I thought that I didn't want to be so weak anymore and Taylor was why but that doesn't make any sense."

She raised a hand to her head. It recoiled from her cheek, and Emma stared at her palm like she hadn't noticed she was crying. She smiled weakly and finally looked Anne in the eye.

"I fucked up."

Anne didn't know how to interpret it. She picked on Taylor because she felt weak? Why had Emma ever cared about that?

Anne asked the question again. "What did you do?"

Emma started shaking.

"I killed Taylor. I-I know she's still alive but she's not"—she stopped and wiped a hand over her eyes—"Newtype isn't Taylor. She's not the same anymore and it's all my fault. I made Victoria pretend to be her friend so that we could laugh at her and I made Sophia hit her and Madison shoot spitballs at her hair. We made everyone think she was gay and that she was creepy and I told her it was her fault her mom died."

Anne heard everything Emma said but, it all kind of rolled over her. She took Emma into her arms and pulled her sister close. Did she realize how much she was shaking?

"I can't fix it," she cried. "I can't."

Anne tucked Emma's face into her shoulder.

She was furious. Everything Emma said? Yeah, no one can fix that. What was Anne supposed to do, though? Storm off and say she never wanted to see Emma again? They were sisters. Maybe never as close as Emma and Taylor had been but…

I was jealous, wasn't I?

She was and that felt rather selfish. Never occurred to her before that she envied how close Taylor and Emma were. Being even more honest, Anne didn't know who she envied more. Did she want a friend like Taylor, or a sister like Emma? Now, it just seemed so powerfully wrong that they weren't together anymore.

Anne held Emma for a while. She was still angry but anger is just another part of loving someone when they're family.

"I'm sorry," Emma pleaded.

"Have you told Taylor that?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"Maybe."

Emma leaned into her. "It's not good enough."

"It's not about that, Emma." Had she even seen Taylor since… Whenever she last saw her? "She's hurting. I've seen it."

"She doesn't want to hear that from me."

Anne pulled back with a sigh. "Do you want to hear it?"

Saying sorry wasn't just about the person you hurt. Guilt's a bitch and Anne never did anything this bad to anyone. It was a bit selfish. No, definitely selfish. Very selfish, given the circumstances, but fuck they were barely sixteen. Neither of their lives were over. Maybe they wouldn't ever be what they were before, but Taylor and Emma couldn't simply ignore each other after all of that.

Now might not be the best time with all the news focused on it, but... "Taylor almost died, Emma."

"She's okay." Emma pulled free of Anne and turned away. "She won't die."

"And if she does and you never said sorry? What then, Emma?" Anne glanced around the room. The spiders were back at work, moving in rhythmic patterns. "You can't ignore Taylor and Taylor can't ignore you."

"I already tried. I couldn't say it."

"Try again then! She's your best friend Emma and you-you—"

Anne shook her head. She couldn't think of the right word. Really, she was still confused as to exactly what happened. That just didn't seem to matter anymore. She knew what really mattered. Emma didn't just ditch Taylor as a friend. She made Taylor's life miserable.

"You have to apologize, Emma."

"Doesn't matter. The PRT says I have to stay away from Taylor."

Bullshit. What did the PRT care? Even if they did for some reason, fuck them. This wasn't their concern. Emma and Taylor were kids. They shouldn't have to carry this unresolved between them for the rest of their lives. Maybe Taylor would explode and maybe Emma would deserve it. Maybe they'd never see each other again. So be it. At least they'd get to have it out and be done with each other.

And Anne needed to stop for a moment to wonder if that would really help at all. Her mind had been running in sixth gear for the past few days. She'd not really spent time thinking about any of this.

It didn't feel wrong though.

She thought back to the two of them, playing capes in the yard and laughing.

It shouldn't end like this.

"Emma—" Anne stopped. "Emma?"

Her sister was staring, eyes focused despite the drying tears.

"Stay here," she ordered.

"What? What are—"

The spiders started moving. An army of eight legged soldiers all turned and started climbing out of their glass boxes, moving across the room as Emma walked along the wall.

Anne followed, noting how the spiders moved out of her way.

There was someone else in the room. Anne couldn't quite make them out with all the glass and spiders, but it was a woman. Red coat. White pants. Mask. A cape? When did they walk into the room?

"You said I'd never see you again," Emma said. The firmness in her voice surprised Anne. All the softness from before was gone. "When you put a gun to my head."

Wait what?!

The woman smiled, surrounded by spiders. On the floor, on the walls, dangling from the ceiling by strings. Emma stood between the woman and Anne, and suddenly she seemed much larger than before.

"Did I?" the woman asked. "I think we'd have to have met before for that. I distinctly remember everyone I've threatened."

"Who are you?" Anne asked.

"A cape," Emma answered without turning away.

"A stranger," the woman corrected. "And while I admit you look very familiar, you're not someone I've met before. The only redhead I've talked to in a long time was a self-absorbed child who revelled in the suffering of others. Her, I'm very glad to never meet again."

Emma flinched.

Anne glanced at the door. Was Recoil still outside? Whoever this was, she wasn't Emma's friend. She called herself a stranger, right?

The woman raised one hand, her fingers holding a piece of paper.

"For someone who understands responsibility a bit better," she elaborated.

Anne glanced down as a shimmering light appeared on the floor. The woman began to drop, and a few spiders followed. It all happened in the blink of an eye. The light vanished and the woman was gone.

"Who was that?" Anne asked, staring at the floor.

Emma frowned. She stepped forward and picked the letter off the floor.

Anne stepped up behind her, looking over her sister's shoulder.

"Emma?"

"Don't tell anyone about that," she said. "It's…complicated."

Anne raised her brow. She could see the note over Emma's shoulder.

You'll know when to say it.

Door, please.