6.3

When I walk in today I don't look for a book. I don't walk around the library searching.

I just walk straight towards her and sit down.

Even so… for some reason it takes me a minute to actually talk.

"Alright…" I begin, taking a deep breath. "you say the room is mine right? We can discuss anything I want?"

Yamada nods, still sitting like she always did on the big, plushy, red leather seat.

I work my jaw a bit, feeling the words trying to organize themselves in my head. Even after thinking about this, on and off for the last few days, I still wasn't wholly sure how I wanted to approach this.

Still… no point in dancing around this anymore. Just bite the bullet and see where this goes. The sitting around bullshit was driving me crazy

"Alright. Let's play twenty questions." I finally say. "I ask something, you ask something. If I've got control of the room, that's what I wanna do."

She nods. "Alright."

I take a breath. "So… let's talk about me. I imagine you read some kind of file on me right? What's it say?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Her face remained completely flat save for a minor twitch of her lips that I'm pretty sure was a frown. Or… maybe a smile?

"Your file specifies what you'd expect. Young teenage girl, raised by a single parent, suffered the trauma of losing one parent approximately-"

"You know what I mean." I interrupt, frowning. "You said I have control of the room right?! That I'm the one that gets to ask questions here right? Then answer the questions and don't skirt around them."

"Frankly, the answer to that question might upset you."

"That's my-" I stopped, frowning. I guess it wasn't really just… my problem.

"Look… just answer." I sighed, aggravated.

"Would you allow me to ask you one thing before I do?"

I shrugged. Twenty questions didn't work that way but whatever. "Go ahead."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Wouldn't you like to know what your bosses think of you if you were in my shoes?"

She nodded. "The file is growing as you can immagine. In terms of your psychological health, however, which is the bulk of what I can speak of, has several 'points.' We can get into detail if you wish, but by and large it points out a few… issues. Firstly- You hold little trust in figures of authority… the PRT is the obviously front and center to take fault in this regard but it's not limited to the PRT. The school faculty is there, your father as well."

"You think I don't trust my dad?" I raised an eyebrow. "What the hell gave you people that impression?"

She was silent for a moment before shifting in her seat. "Tell me… truthfully, would you have ever told him about your situation in Winslow? Emma, Sophia?"

I think I physically winced at that. "That… that wasn't because I didn't trust him!"

"Then why was it?"

"Because he couldn't ever do anything about it! What would have been the point?"

She nodded. "I understand, perhaps you're right and he couldn't. But Taylor, this went on for a period of two whole years, day in and day out. You went to school, dealt with your situation as best you could, came home and said nothing of that situation even on the rare occasions that he asked about Emma in particular. You hid it all. The school, the complaints, the abuse, the bruises. This was more than an occasion of not mentioning it, this was an effort that you put into hiding the truth from him."

I shook my head. "Yeah, so? Again he couldn't do anything about it. So why give him something else to feel shitty about?"

Her head tilted up, eyes opening a little more to deliver a pointed look my way.

"What?"

She took a breath. "That is the root of it Taylor. It wasn't that he couldn't do anything about it. Its that you believed he couldn't deal with his inability to do anything about it."

"I'm…" I shook my head. "What? That makes no sense."

"It does." She leaned forward. "When your mother died. What happened with your father Taylor?"

"He was upset."

"He grieved for her you would say."

"Of course. Who wouldn't have done that?"

"And… what did he do, Taylor?"

I opened my mouth.

"I… I don't know. I mean…"

"Would you say he handled his grief well?"

I…

No.

No he didn't.

He hadn't handled it well. He just shut down. Went to work, said two words to me in the morning before he left, two words later on at night when he got back and… did that over and over again.

There was nothing he could do, nothing to fix, no one to talk to to make the problem go away.

Just had to sit and take it.

Mom was dead.

He didn't handle it. Maybe neither of us did.

I took a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth.

He would have yelled and shook his fist. And even if he did go to the school; So what? Sophia would have been protected.

She kept the school's gang kids on their toes. Kept em in line with just the rumor that a Ward went to the school.

They needed her there, they didn't need me.

I was… expendable by comparison.

That thought still… rankled.

So in the end… he would have just had to sit there and take it, again. Unable to change anything again. And would have just been left to rail against nothing again.

Then… then he'd have just shut down again.

Because that's what he does when he can't do anything else.

He quits.

So yeah. Maybe she was right and I didn't trust my dad.

I mutter something… unkind under my breath. Jessica either didn't hear me, or made a real good show of hiding it.

I shrug. "Fine then. I don't like authority." I pause, sighing again "What else did the file say?"

She opened her mouth and…

I stopped her.

Suddenly, I didn't wanna hear it anymore… I've had enough of… this... Whatever this is.

I held up my hands, closing my eyes as I interrupted whatever she was gonna say.

"Ya know what. Lets just skip to step D, how exactly do you fix me if half the crap in that file is true?"

"It doesn't work that way Taylor." She said, her tone at a more gentle note. "There is no magic pill I can give you. No instant 'fix' .That doesn't mean I can't help you but this is a process… not an instant rehabilitation."

"Ok, so how do we do this "how do we get started"?"

"Every case is different. But… in very general terms, the treatment moves to identify the root cause of the trauma itself and then confront that issue in ways that allow the person to put said trauma behind them. To… 'get over it' in a sense."

I took a breath.

"I… I think… I need a break for today."

She nodded, looking completely unperturbed. "As you wish."

I stood up and moved to find another book.

I found one eventually, and took my usual seat.

By the time the hour came to a close, I realized I hadn't moved past the first line.

(X)

"So who am I with today?" I asked as I walked into the monitor station, having already showered and gotten ready for the night-time patrol.

"Tonight you'll be with the Wards, and you'll be patrolling Sectors seven through twelve."

"Five?... Pretty High. Something up?"

Sills nodded, looking over a file. "Yeah. A good chunk of the Protectorate heroes have been asked to attend a function a few miles out of town. So you'll be sweeping through their area tonight. We figure it'll be quiet though, as it has been usually this past week."

"Which Wards?" I asked, already knowing that I'd be seeing Weld, Missy or Flechette tonight.

"You're going with Weld and Clockblocker tonight." I nodded and moved to the locker rooms to get myself dressed.

"Ahh." His voice made me pause, turning around. His hand was at his ear, listening. "Hebert, Director Dollerant wishes to speak with you when you're done getting dressed. Report to her office."

Why did that sound like 'report to the Principal's office' in my mind?

Nevertheless, minutes later I entered the office and sat down, seeing Dollerant reading something on her computer. Her thick glasses made her eyes look almost bulbous as she leaned toward the screen, nose practically touching it.

She eyes looked up after apparently bookmarking her page. "Ah, welcome Taylor." She gestured to the seat in front of her. I obliged, sitting across from her with my hands in my lap.

"Hey." I answered. "Why am I here?" Were the next words out of my mouth.

"Well, it's the matter regarding you and Mr. Chambers, dear. I heard you two got into quite the verbal jousting match where you described the many ways in which he could fuck off."

I think I may have blushed in embarrassment.

The Director smirked. "As if you needed to be any more adorable."

I blinked, once more thrown for a loop by the woman. Was this gonna become a habit?

"Still-" She said. "We've gotta talk about it. Now now don't look at me like that, dear." She smiled, showing off her chipped tooth.

"That idiot wants to make me wear a dress and a freaking domino mask. Stay away from the front and just use long range ash control." I spat out. "I'm not wearing a domino mask, I'm definitely not wearing a dress! After all the crap-"

"That you've been through getting into the thick of things you like your defenses right where they are." She nodded, still smiling before she stood up, plucking a file from her desk and walking around the piece of furniture to sit beside me. Scooting the chair closer. "But lets see if we can start small, shall we? Lets look at number Thirty-four. This one wouldn't be so bad, would it?" She opened the file I'd felt like burning just yesterday and passed it over to me.

I looked at it, I suddenly remembered the list didn't go farther than thirty three…

It was scrawled under the rest of the notations in blue, loopy handwriting.

'Smile.'

I raised an eyebrow and looked at the director who smiled back.

The humor tugged my lip upward.

"See. You're already pretty good at it. And you don't even have to worry about your teeth falling off like me." She chuckled.

I shook my head, still smirking a bit.

This woman couldn't be more different from Piggot.

"Look dear." She said. "Mr. Chambers waited the whole eight hours I was in a meeting with the other directors just to explain to me the severity of this situation and I understand him as much as I understand you."

I *really* didn't like where this was going.

"Mr. Chambers does have a point. There are a lot of scared people out there across the country who look at you, see an armored Ashburn and literally see a pocket version of Surtr. And that sentiment is spreading I'm afraid."

I clenched the arms of my chair.

"Now. I'm not saying you have to go out there prancing around in a tu-tu and acting like your ash is fairy dust but I am going to say that the situation can't stay as is. Now. I am more than willing to work with both you and Mr. Chambers on compromises and even throw out some of the suggestions even I find absurd, but the option of flatly refusing all thirty-three suggestions simply isn't on the table for any of us but least of all you."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

Still… better to have a compromise then swallow all of Glenn's stupid bullshit.

"I'll try. But there is no goddamn way that I'm gonna put a freakin kodak moment ahead of being functional. Whatever compromise we come up with has to be something that actually lets me do things effectively."

She nodded. "Of course, dear. We'll discuss it in greater detail tomorrow." She waved me off. "Now go, shoo, go and be a productive citizen while I sit here and pretend to not be playing online poker."

I blinked…

(X)

I rode on one side of the van, with Dennis on the other side as we rode in silence. Weld was actually lying down in the middle, the Case 53 boy so heavy he might have either broken the thin metal that was the bench or might even make the car tip over if they took too hard a turn in the wrong direction.

I was still in my pre-costume, a spandex one-piece that was like a swimsuit, but I considered it more in line with a gymnast's uniform. In my head I was already formulating what to do about the suggestion list.

"What's on your mind?" I heard a voice and I perked up, seeing Weld look up at me with his silver eyes. "You look deep in thought Ash."

"Glenn Chambers paid me a visit."

"Ouch." Was all Dennis said. "That sucks man."

I shrug, mulling over what to do. "According to him, I have to wear a dress and not fight up close."

"Hmm. That sucks, but hopefully I can make up the difference. I'm a Brute too." Weld spoke up.

"Only if you're around at the time." I shook my head, "Either way it doesn't matter. I've made it very clear that I'm still gonna be getting into the thick of things whether he likes it or not. "

He shrugged. "Good luck, hope you win that argument. Even with the Empire hamstringed we don't need Glenn doing his best to level the playing field again."

I nodded, agreeing with him wholeheartedly. "For tonight I'm still free, so I'll fight like I usually do if I have to." I said.

Weld nodded. Dennis remained quiet as the van began to slow down.

"We're here, northeast suburbia." Said the driver over the speaker and Dennis reached over and opened the door as the van came to a stop. Clockblocker walked out, while Weld shimmied and got off, and I could literally feel the van tip his way before he got off. Heavy.

I sat up, and with a flick of my wrist the massive barrel of ash opened. I covered myself from head to toe, the armor taking shape as I walked out of the van and onto the concrete. We were in a parking lot of a community center, and I could notice hills of houses around us. No roof hopping it seems-

"We're near Concord Heights." Dennis said.

It made me pause.

Concord Heights.

This was where me and Dad found Dinah...

"Patrol starts here." The agent said. "We'll pick you guys up at midnight at point B-F." The agent walked towards us, each giving us the PRT Hero-grade watches. "Velocity will be close by if you need any back up, but the major gangs don't go into Suburbia that much. Plus it's been quiet anyway. Happy hunting." The agent walked back into the van and they drove off.

I looked at Clockblocker. "Well, lead the way." I mentioned, and Clockblocker nodded, walking forward.

I looked back at Weld, seeing him walk in tandem with me and Dennis. My past patrols have always been with him, Vista, and/or Flechette.

"So... How's school going?" I asked towards Dennis, trying to strike some form of conversation. I heard what I heard from Aisha. What about from Dennis?

"Well, it's been fine. I guess. Though a lot of people have been asking around for ya. That Aisha girl said you were okay though, but at home under intensive care after the Outcry incident. Heck, some people are trying to get your address."

"For what?" I asked, confused on why they would want to do that.

"Ain't it obvious?" Weld spoke up. "They want to come see you. Give you flowers. Take selfies to spread the word on Facebook. Give you candy. Support."

...

"I… I see..." I said, unsure of what to say.

"Well, at least that's how I'm seeing it."

"Yeah, that's probably the gist of it. Victoria's friends are the ones asking around the most. Vicky's there, at least to try and protect your ID. It'd be weird her being your friend and then just turning around the next day and saying she doesn't care enough to check on you. Ya know." Dennis said.

Not as strange as you think.

"Yeah." I answer instead.

"Hey Ash." Clockblocker spoke up as we made our way up the hill leading into a neighborhood, still on the sidewalk. "Ya hear Browbeat's heading out of the Bay?"

"Browbeat?" I asked, looking his way curiously. "Did he do something wrong?"

"Nah, they're heading down to NYC. Dad has a new job there. So Browbeat is going to New York."

"He will be under Legend then, right?"

"Yep."

"When is he leaving?"

"Next week."

I wondered if I should go see him…

He seemed like a reserved guy. Smart. Usually added a one liner here and there. But... He never came to visit me after the Outcry incident. Not once.

Was that fear, his personality, or him just being too busy?

I looked at the back of Dennis' head.

Should I ask him?

No.

No matter what he answered better to stay away. Less awkward. Less chance of a potential disaster.

"Best of luck to him." I offered.

"Alrighty then. You're breakin off here, Clock." Weld sounded off as we reached the other end of the street. "You're on main drive. If you see anything, don't engage. Contact us and we'll be there fast."

"Roger that." Clockblocker gave off a salute and began jogging the other way down the main drive on the sidewalk. Me and Weld turned towards each other and nodded as we walked up hill.

My mind was still on Brendan, wondering.

I looked to Weld.

"How did you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"Being a Case 53?"

The question would have been rude by any other standard, hell, it was rude now. But I honestly didn't care how rude it sounded. If this was gonna be the new norm, I had to know straight up with what the hell to do for the rest of my immediate, and possibly long term future of people looking at me like a freak.

"Deal with being a Case 53?" He paused.

For a long time he didn't answer.

"Case 53s have to deal with people being afraid of them, or treating them differently. So yeah. I'm asking."

He shook his head. "Nah, nah I get ya. Its just… hardly anyone's ever been that blunt and it's not something I think about.

He took a breath "Well… to be honest I probably have it easier in the 'dealing with it' part of people treating me 'different' because I didn't remember a time before. A Case 53 doesn't remember a thing about their pasts so the bar is set pretty damn low."

"What was your first memory?" I asked. More out of curiosity than any consideration as to how it might benefit me.

"I just remember waking up in some… drug house in the middle of Foxborough. I moved out of a room, next thing I know some of the dealers and pushers there tried to shoot me. Let me tell you. When you wake up with a gun in your face and no idea that it can't hurt you, you don't think. Just act. I hit those guys like I'd punch out Lung. Before I could even take stock of anything, three of em are dead, everybody else is runnin' out the damn building and the PRT is called in."

"You killed?" That was… surprising.

He nodded. "Yeah. PRT understood. Fresh trigger, Case 53. They managed to determine I was still a kid somehow and honestly, sometimes I'm glad I can't remember a damn thing. If I woke up in that shit hole… what the hell was I even doing there? What kinda road was I walking down, ya know? Its better than I'm here than there. A hundred times better, even with all the baggage."

I nodded, understanding his point. I wasn't sure if it could also be applied to me specifically, but I got it.

"Anyway." He sighed. "I joined the Wards on probation in Boston, after a year, probation was up, and they liked me. So I kept doin' what I was doin' to be a hero. As for how I deal with the looks I get… to be honest, I kinda don't. There are people that matter to me, and people that don't. And those who mind or look at me funny, don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. I don't try to make myself perfect to please a bunch of strangers. Just do what you want. Be yourself."

I tilted my head.

He paused, seeming to realize just who exactly he was proposing this to and turned to look at me, a smile I'd describe as sheepish gracing his face as he gave a wry chuckle. "Not very helpful am I."

"I'm pretty sure there are a dozen people back at PRT that would flay you alive if they could." I nodded.

He sighed. "Well… in my view, what you did wasn't something you can control. And yeah, it was bad, and yeah, it happened and you ended up hurting a lot of people. That's something you're gonna have to come to terms with, and if the people around you find it hard to look at you, you and not Ashburn or Surtr or whatever due to something that was beyond your control? Then fuck those people. They can go take a hike."

"So you'd treat Ashburn and me separately?"

"Why not?" He shrugged. "You think just because I'm a case 53 I don't keep my personal life and my hero life separate? I've got my friends, and the 'Hero' Weld doesn't. Its just that simple. The people you care about shouldn't be held to a standard of a bunch of strangers, and a million strangers on PHO definitely shouldn't be held up to a standard as your friends. If that's not the case then something, somewhere, went very wrong."

I… nodded.

"Thanks."

He shrugged. "That's my take on it anyway." He looked around. "Well… this is my point. I'm off on my route, I'll call if anything pops up."

"Yeah." He turned and walked away, heading for a street that was parallel to us.

He offered a thumbs up.

And I offered one back in turn.

I walked up the hill, thinking on everything I'd heard today.