A/N: Hi. This is a thing again. Thanks to Dysole, FuryouMiko, and Wheat Stick for beta reading, and retroactive thanks to Ganurath for beta reading all previous chapters up to this point.

The sky above Captain's Hill was beginning to turn to dusk as Taylor's fragments cut through it, deep violets and burning golds creeping in to mix with the blue.

It wasn't hard to find the woman sitting on a park bench, nursing a paper cup of coffee as it steamed in the evening air. For whatever reason, it was the family resemblance that Taylor noticed first, before memories of news reports and posters. She had Victoria's upturned nose, the same heart-shaped lines of her face. The same blonde hair, though it was cut shorter.

Somehow, the effect was different. On Victoria, those features had looked warm, open. On the woman below her they looked cold and imposing. Regal. It looked like the face of someone used to being obeyed. Even if she hadn't been wearing a scarf the same royal purple as her costume, Taylor would have known who she was.

The leader of the New Wave. Lady Photon.

From a million different perspectives, Taylor confirmed no one else was close enough to see. Behind a nearby tree her pieces flowed together, slotting into place with soft clicks. Sensation returned. The evening air was crisp, carrying a hint of winter not so long past.

She looked down at the piece of paper clenched in her hand, the location and time of this meeting scribbled down hastily. It trembled slightly. A certain part of her, a big part, couldn't believe this was really happening.

Another part knew there wasn't another choice. Faces rose in her mind's eye. Emma's eyes under a streetlight. Victoria's smile. Sophia's look of approval as the girl who'd once been her sister in all but blood twisted another happy memory into a bitter barb. For just an instant, the paper and the hand holding it flickered glassy black.

You don't get to break her too.

She suppressed the urge to shatter herself again, took a deep breath. And she stepped out.

A raised eyebrow greeted her. "Taylor, I presume. You flew here?"

Taylor nodded. She couldn't share the real reason, the creeping fear that Sophia would manage to follow her. Would be here, waiting. A string of shards escaping from a basement window would at least have been harder to spot. "It was faster than the bus."

The eyebrow didn't move. "Without a mask, I see."

Taylor grit her teeth as her heart sank. Something in the older woman's voice said she was failing a test she hadn't even known she was taking. Taylor met her eyes, refusing to look away. "There's no one nearby to see us. I made sure of it."

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, then a shrug. "You'd know, I suppose." Lady Photon drained the last of her coffee and stood, tossing the cup into a nearby trash can. "Walk with me. Let's talk about what we can do for each other."

For an instant Taylor nearly balked. Meeting here was one thing, but two women walking alone through a park after sundown wasn't safe. This wasn't the worst neighborhood, but—

Then she remembered who she was talking to, and she realized she was still thinking in terms of, well, normal people. Not parahumans. There was nothing they could encounter that was scarier than the woman in front of her.

…Probably.

Taylor had to quicken her steps to catch up. Lady Photon spoke without looking back to see if she'd followed.

"What exactly are your plans? Victoria told me some things, but I'd rather hear it from you."

"I… want to be a hero." The words still felt stilted coming out of her mouth, more like a line from a movie than something that could possibly apply to her.

"Obviously. If you didn't, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Lady Photon said curtly. "What I'm asking for is specifics. Do you intend to join the Wards? To operate as an independent?"

Taylor opened her mouth. Then closed it. Stop Sophia. Get Emma help for whatever had happened to her. It wasn't that she didn't have plans, they were just all short term. If she lived through that, all that waited for her on the other side was one big blur and Victoria's promise. That she could be a hero.

Lady Photon was watching her. "Or," she continued more softly, "were you hoping to join the New Wave?"

"Is that an option?" Taylor asked. The idea of working with Victoria, of being part of what she did was… nice.

The older cape hummed. "It could be. The New Wave was always meant to grow. You'd have to publicly unmask, of course. And you would need to understand why you did it."

It surprised Taylor how… small the idea of unmasking felt, after everything else. Oh, it was huge and scary and would change everything. Again. Her life had been upended so many times recently, flipping it over one more time couldn't make things much worse. Victoria knew. Emma knew. Sophia knew, though she cared about that for different reasons. There was almost no one who mattered in her life who didn't already know what she was.

Almost.

If she joined a team, Dad would find out what had happened. What she was now. But that was as true for the Wards as it would be for the New Wave. If the idea of being a solo hero had had any appeal, it had died screaming at the feel of Sophia's hand thrust inside her chest, wispy fingers gripping her lungs and heart.

She'd been reminded in that moment that she was still just Taylor. That without her powers she wasn't strong or smart or special. All it would take was the first time she ran into a power that beat hers and she'd be another anonymous body in a costume, identified only by dental evidence. She wondered how long her dad would have to wait, wondering what had happened to her. If he would ever know.

No, she had to tell him. Eventually. Once Sophia was gone. If she lived through this she'd join a team and tell him, Taylor promised herself. She'd be a better daughter.

"...I could unmask," she admitted. "Not right away, but I could."

Lady Photon smiled. There was a sense that somewhere in the invisible test that was talking to her, she had finally gotten a question right.

Besides, something in her whispered, people listened to capes. If she were a member of the New Wave it would be that much harder to say that she was making things up, exaggerating, telling stories. About what had happened to Emma, what Sophia had done.

"Even if you don't, if we're going to be working together you should understand what the New Wave stands for. How much do you know already?"

"Accountability." That was the phrase, the buzzword that always got trotted out when the New Wave was involved. Taylor tried to dredge up half-remembered new reports from when she was a kid, back when they had unmasked, the TV droning on as anchormen interviewed flawlessly made up men and women in costume. There had been more to it than that, hadn't there? "You… want the people you protect to know you're not keeping secrets from them. That if you mess up you can't just take off the mask and disappear."

"That was the public version," Lady Photon answered. "It's not wrong, but it is incomplete. The real message was always intended for other parahumans. How much do you know about the culture of capes, things the average man on the street wouldn't?"

"...Not much," Taylor admitted.

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "What has that niece of mine been teaching you? She should know better."

A spark of anger flickered to life in Taylor's chest. "She taught me how people get powers. That it—" her voice caught. "That it wasn't just me."

"…Ah." It was hard to make out the heroine's face in the fading twilight, but her voice grew softer. "I suppose that would have to come first."

They walked in silence for a moment, the path twisting as it headed deeper into the park. The first new leaves rustled in the breeze.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions to help you understand," Lady Photon said. "Just answer with whatever comes to mind."

Taylor blinked. "The Socratic method?"

That earned a surprised laugh from the older cape. Clipped, like she regretted the loss of composure. "Got it in one. I'm impressed, Taylor."

She flushed at the praise, grateful the dim light hid her face. "My mom is—" she swallowed, "...was a english professor. She made sure I knew stuff."

If Lady Photon noticed the hesitation, she at least didn't comment. "My first question is: a man in a mask walks into a store. He threatens those behind the counter, demands whatever money they have. Why is he wearing a mask?"

Taylor frowned. There were a lot of possible reasons, but one seemed the most obvious. "He's a villain."

"Ah, but he's not," Lady photon said, raising a finger. "Or at least, not in the modern sense. He has no powers, beyond owning a gun. His only 'costume' is a balaclava pulled over regular clothes. He is an ordinary criminal. So why the mask?"

"He doesn't want to be caught," Taylor answered after a moment. "If security cameras catch his face, or if the people inside see it, it'll be easier to figure out who he was."

"Not a bad answer. Now, across town from the store being robbed, a cape battle is happening. The supervillain involved also is wearing a mask. Why does he do it?"

"...It's the same reason, isn't it?" Taylor said. "That's what you're getting at. The name and costume are just a fancy version of the guy with a sock over his head."

At the edges of the park, streetlights were starting to flicker on. The path they were on led deep into the center though, obscuring everything in shades of slightly lighter and darker shadows. Taylor shivered, and couldn't quite entirely blame it on temperature. This place looked like an illustration from a textbook titled 'how to get mugged.'

"And the hero? Why does she wear one?"

"She…" Taylor trailed off, brow furrowing. "I guess it's the same reason again, sort of? I mean, the hero doesn't have to be afraid of getting arrested, but there are gangs. If they know who she is under the mask, there could be other kinds of… retaliation…" her voice faltered.

The older woman's face was unreadable in the dark, hidden from view even without a mask. For a moment Taylor was glad. It was easy to forget the other thing the New Wave was famous for. That there had once been six members of the older generation, not four.

"So why," Lady Photon asked, and there was something about her voice. Each word dropped into place like a block of ice, precise and cold, "Do the police not wear masks?"

Taylor opened her mouth, then shut it. Why didn't the police wear masks? They didn't go after powered crime, but gangs contained plenty of regular people too. "...I don't know," she admitted. "This is where I'm supposed to say it doesn't make sense. But there must be a reason, because people do it. So… either they aren't at risk in the same way, they wouldn't get the same benefit, or there's something that makes it not worth it." The last seemed the most in line with what she knew of the New Wave.

"Or you're wrong about why the other three wear masks."

"Am I?" Taylor asked. She could barely tell the path apart from the grass on either side, now, but Lady Photon wasn't slowing her pace at all in the dark.

"Let's return to the man robbing the store. Do you think his mask is enough to let him get away with it?"

"In Brockton? It might be overkill."

"Point," Lady Photon conceded. "But let's say the store is on the boardwalk. Or maybe the store owner hires a private investigator to track him down. Is he safe?"

"Then… no," Taylor said. As bizarre as the setting and context were, a part of her was enjoying the conversation. Just being able to work at a puzzle without being afraid, without the constant knowledge her life hung in the balance… it was nice. "Not if it's the only precaution he took. If he drove there, someone might write down the license plate. If he's not wearing gloves, there might be fingerprints. And if he spends all the money in one place, he—!"

Her foot caught on something and suddenly she was falling, her hands bursting with pain as she caught herself on the rough asphalt. Violet light flared behind her, stinging her eyes, and Taylor's entire body flickered to blackened crystal.

It took a few long, frozen moments before she understood what she was seeing. Her foot had caught in a pothole she'd missed in the dark. That was all. Lady Photon was only giving her light to see by. Not attacking.

She turned back to flesh, her heart immediately trying to batter its way out through her ribs as deferred adrenaline crashed over her. Blind panic receded, bringing hot waves of embarrassment in its wake.

"Are you alright?" Lady Photon asked, just a hint of amusement in her tone. "I forget sometimes that not everyone can see in the dark like me and my sister."

"I. Uh. Yeah," Taylor said as she pushed herself to her feet, cheeks burning. There was blood on the palms of her hands, but underneath the skin had already knitted itself back together. She surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans, then regretted it. That would stain, and bloody smears would be hard to explain to Dad.

Lilac-colored light flowed like mist up Lady Photon's arm, gathering and swirling in the palm of her outstretched hand. Around them, trees and park benches cast long flickering shadows. For a moment Taylor stared. It was beautiful.

Right up until she remembered that at any moment the gathered light could become a blast that could pulp bone and shatter concrete. There was something eerie about Lady Photon's face, lit from below by the glow of her own power. Taylor had known the woman in front of her was a parahuman, one of the few for whom the laws of physics were just suggestions. But it hadn't been really completely real before. That it would take her just a thought to leave Taylor's body a charred and shattered husk.

I'm one of them now. Me. Taylor Hebert.

She wondered if that thought would ever stop feeling wrong.

"Keep going," Lady Photon said, beginning to walk again. "You really were almost there."

Taylor followed her, shaking those thoughts from her head. She tried to remember where the conversation had been before she tripped. "If the mask by itself isn't enough for the burglar, then it isn't enough for the villain either. That's where this is going. There's other precautions he needs to take, things people don't see. And the New Wave… doesn't bother…?" Even as the words left her lips, they sounded wrong. She'd only known Lady Photon a little time, but she seemed like the exact opposite of someone who would decide something was too much effort.

"Reasonable," Lady Photon responded. "So, if keeping one's identity requires all sorts of elaborate precautions, then you must know of lots of capes who failed and got found out? After all, surely they can't all get it right on the first try."

"...One or two," Taylor admitted. Not enough. She was missing something here, something important.

"Any whose names came out before they were put away forever?"

"No." Taylor's brow furrowed. "There's some reason capes' identities are staying secret when they shouldn't." She looked too Lady Photon and received an infinitesimal nod. "The New Wave doesn't have secret identities. Whatever it is, you opted out. And you want me to understand why." Silence stretched, the older woman letting her think. "So it's something bad. Or at least something you disagree with."

Lady Photon's lips curled into a thin smile as she turned onto a path that twisted back the way they had come. "I'm beginning to see why Victoria likes you. Taylor, when does it take no effort to keep a secret?"

She remembered being told that there was no proof. That no one had seen anything, that there were too many conflicting stories. Teachers who didn't see what was in front of their eyes, because blind was easier. Something inside Taylor went cold. "...When no one wants to look."

The shadows around them swirled and jerked as Lady Photon clapped. "Well done, Taylor. I'm impressed. Most new capes don't get there nearly so fast, if they do at all. Many need it spelled out in the end."

Faces, names flickered through Taylor's memory. Armsmaster. Miss Militia. Alexandria. They were good people, weren't they? That was what 'hero' meant. She tried not to think about how many people she saw at school every day would be prepared to tell her Sophia was a good person too. The whole world couldn't just be a bigger Winslow.

Could it?

It took a few rough swallows before she found her voice. Would it be rude to split a piece of herself off, just for the conversation? "Why? Why don't they…" She trailed off, unsure what the next word would be. Try? Be heroes?

The light from below cast Lady Photon's face in harsh lines of light and dark. "It isn't the kind of thing that has a formal name. Nothing official, nothing written down. When it's talked about at all I've heard it called lines in the sand, a gentleman's agreement." She almost spat the last name, her voice bitter. "What it is, what it started as, was an understanding between villains. A way of doing things that avoided conflicts that were bad for business."

Something in Taylor's stomach went cold. Memories of her dad ranting about corruption in the city government, in the police. How many simply looked the other way for the gangs, or worse. Somehow, she'd thought heroes would be different. Stupid of her. Why should they be? She clenched a fist, crammed it into the pocket of her hoodie as it flickered black. She hadn't thought.

"Oh, there are fights between villains. More, in fact, because of it. They're just restrained, free of collateral damage that would be inconvenient." The destroying light gathered in her hand flared for emphasis. "They fight with masks on only, so that there's always a way out, an escape clause. Take off the costume, go home, and your life and family will be untouched. Look the other way, so no one ever has to face what a villain with nothing to lose might do. And if you don't play along…"

We'll have the whole city to try to kill each other. But in school, powers are off limits.

"…then they come after your family," Taylor finished, the words falling from numb lips. Sophia's voice echoed inside her head. Deep in her pocket, her hand shattered.

Lady Photon turned to her, and stopped. One eyebrow raised, her face unreadable. "Correct. Is there something you'd like to share?"

Taylor took a breath, then another. The broken shards in her pocket helped, bleeding away shock and denial as she gathered her words. "I said no one had talked to me about this stuff." She swallowed. "I think… I think maybe I just didn't understand it at the time."

I know where you live. I know where your father works.

She'd thought it was just Sophia. That as awful and crushing as the ultimatum she'd been given was, it was the work of one person, just the latest in a long, long line of creative and discreet cruelties. More bullying, now with powers and a grander stage.

But it wasn't. Not if this was true. Sophia with her threats, the powers that meant nothing could hurt her, wasn't the exception. She was the rule. The norm in a world where a mask meant no one had seen anything, that there was nothing they could do. Winslow had followed her, even here.

Had she really understood anything about capes? For a moment she wondered if she should be trusting Lady Photon at all. But Victoria had sent her here, had told her the meeting was a good idea. She couldn't imagine the girl who'd helped her lying.

She started walking again, and Lady Photon followed. This time it was Taylor who broke the silence. "Why did they start playing along?" she asked. "Heroes, I mean."

"I can't tell you what must have gone through the heads of the first few," Lady Photon answered. "Fear, I suppose. Perhaps they cared more about fame and power than truly helping people. Or it was just easier." She sighed. "That was before my time, really. But playing along means keeping things in the dark, under wraps. The whole system is set up to spread a veneer that everything's fine, even as villains spread and flourish. The heroes who embraced it could point to heroes who were doing their jobs, to the battles they fought and the damages incurred, and say: look how much better it is here! Look how peaceful everything is under me. Look what a good hero I am!"

There was something in her voice. The icy control from the rest of the conversation had cracked, something shut tight coming open. She gestured with the light in her hand, sending shadows fleeing. "They were the heroes that became famous, who went on to found institutions and teach the next generation of heroes. To teach them that complicity is what heroes do, that embracing a set of practices designed to benefit villains is just how being a cape works."

She sounds like Mom, Taylor thought with a sudden swoop of nostalgia that hit her like a knife in the gut. Oh, not Mom all the time, but when Uncle Alan had said something dumb at Thanksgiving or something else had gotten her worked up. There was the same sort of almost hopeful anger, the rock-solid conviction that things could be different if people just tried. The specifics were different, different injustices and systems, but the sound was the same. The disappointment with the world for not being better.

Would you have liked her, Mom?

Taylor blinked rapidly, pushing the hurt away to the other hers in her pocket that had no eyes and couldn't cry. She could handle this. Some of her could, anyway. The part people could see.

"The New Wave wear no masks, because a hero in a mask can never be a hero with her whole heart. She has something to lose, something held over her head, and so she hesitates. She can never go after villains with everything she has, because she fears them responding in kind." There was a brief pause. "Do you know the game 'chicken,' Taylor?"

Taylor blinked, trying to process the change of subject. "The—the one with people driving cars at each other?"

"Yes. And the first to swerve loses." Lady Photon smiled grimly. "Do you know how to win that game?"

She shook her head.

"Take out your own steering wheel before it starts. Throw it outside the car, and make sure the other driver sees," she said. "That's what unmasking is. Of all the heroes in this city, only the New Wave are truly free to act as heroes. We alone have nothing to gain by playing along, no way out to take away."

It should have sounded grandiose, melodramatic. Somehow, under jagged branches underlined in amaranthine light, it didn't. There wasn't a single atom of doubt in Lady Photon's voice, not a particle of hesitation. The sun would rise in the morning, the seasons would turn, and the New Wave was what she said it was. It wasn't a hope or a claim. It was a fact, undeniable as gravity.

A hero sacrificed things. Taylor had learned that from Amy, back in the junkyard. And only the New Wave gave up everything.

An image rose in Taylor's mind, a memory. A clip played over and over again on the local news. A white-painted house like any other, yellow police tape strung in front. "Even after what happened, um…"

The look she received froze her to the spot.

"Say her name," Lady Photon said. Her voice was soft but full of venom, hidden just beneath the surface. "If you'd invoke her memory, at least grant her the dignity of a name."

"Fleur," Taylor whispered, her heart pounding her chest. The shattered Taylors hiding in the remains of her hand drained the worst of the sudden fear, but they couldn't take the thoughts. That'd she'd done the wrong thing, again. That in a moment she'd lost her best chance at help, her chance to join the New Wave. That she'd lost Victoria. That it was all happening again, just like before—

"Jess," Lady Photon said. "My sister in law gave her life to protect this city. She knew the risks when she took off her mask. We all did. Being a hero isn't safe, anyone who says different is lying or forgot what 'hero' meant long ago." She paused for a moment, the fire draining from her voice, replaced with ashen bitterness. "But because she bled out into carpet instead of pavement, she's remembered as a mistake. A fool who didn't know the consequences of her actions. As if she ceased to be a hero the moment she took her costume off." The older hero began walking again and Taylor followed, a branch cracking underfoot. "But she was a hero, every minute of her life. She gave her life to help the city she loved, no different than if she'd fallen in battle. She deserves better."

Taylor looked down, keeping her gaze locked on the worn and pitted asphalt under their feet. In the odd purple light little nicks and gouges cast long shadows. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know what it's like to lose someone, I shouldn't have…"

"It's not your fault," Lady Photon said. Taylor didn't dare meet her eyes, but the acid edge to her voice had vanished as if it had never been. "You only know what you've heard and been taught. I apologize. It simply… bothers me, how she's remembered."

Taylor stared at the ground and kept her mouth shut, feeling guilty and out of place. At least, that was what the Taylor driving her body around felt. The other hers hidden away were… worse.

"To answer your original question," Lady Photon continued when it became clear Taylor wasn't going to speak up. "Yes, even after Fleur gave her life. What other choice do we have? Oh, we could find a way out of unmasking I'm sure, with enough time to plan. Some loophole. We could look away, pretend none of it's happening, that the problem doesn't exist. Tell ourselves that it's a big world and someone else can help. But if we did…"

"You wouldn't be heroes," Taylor said softly. She thought of Amy, twisting herself into what people needed no matter how much it hurt, people she'd never see again. Of Victoria, who'd helped her for no other reason besides that she needed help. Of Sophia, so offended to be called a villain in the same breath she declared she could do whatever she wanted, that Taylor should be grateful. "Not real ones."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Lady Photon said, and there was something in her voice, a note Taylor couldn't place. "Besides, I wouldn't count the New Wave out just yet. The plan was never to fix the entire world ourselves. We were meant to be an example, an inspiration. To show parahumans that there are other ways to be a hero than playing along quietly, bending at the knee to villains and never trying too hard." She laughed softly. "I admit, it's been slower than I thought at first. But—"

A pair of cool fingers caught Taylor's chin, tilted her face up to look into Lady Photon's. She was smiling, warm and open. It was Victoria's smile. "—it looks like I just had to wait a generation."

Taylor's mouth opened and shut, no noise coming out. "I, I'm not—"

"You're more than you think you are, Taylor," she said. That perfect certainty had returned to her voice, as if it wasn't even possible to imagine a universe where she might be wrong. "If even half of what Victoria's told me about your power is true, you're a strong cape, even if you don't know it yet. But, more than that, you get it." She released Taylor's chin, stepping back with a ruffle of her hair.

"The new wave isn't a family, Taylor. It's an idea. An idea you understand, when so many other capes struggle or refuse to listen. You belong with the New Wave. I don't pretend to know what else your life contains, but it has in it a place here, with us."

Taylor swallowed around a sudden lump in her throat. She looked away. What could she even say to that? Finally she settled on, "Thank you," lame as it was.

"I understand it's a lot to process. You can take all the time you need, Victoria will be there to help you through the next steps when you're ready. Do you understand?"

She nodded, wordlessly. She didn't know what she might have said, even if she could. Even with the other hers, the sobbing mental voices tucked away in her pockets out of sight, it was too much. Too fast. Like she was watching it happen to some other Taylor. No-one should have been saying those things to her. It didn't fit. Except, in a way, Victoria already had.

Between you and me, Taylor, I think you might already be one. A hero.

Lady Photon gave a little professional nod back, one cape to another. "In that case, goodnight. I assume you'd rather direct any questions to Victoria, but I will be here if you need me. I truly am looking forward to working with you, Taylor."

A violet star rose into the night sky for a moment, before she snuffed the light in her hand and vanished. Some time later, a million fragile shards of black filtered up into the night, leaving behind an empty garden path.

She had a lot to think about.