The Slippery Slope

Part Four: Consolidation

As we walked back toward the Principal's office, Jenna handed my glasses to me. They'd been smeared with horrible substances during my sojourn in the locker, but now they were pristine and sparkling.

"Oh, thanks." As I fitted them into place, the world came back into focus. "You didn't have to do that for me."

She smiled. "Actually, I did. You're a member now, for all intents and purposes. You're one of us."

The warmth in her voice caught at me, and my eyes filled with tears. I stopped and hugged her; she returned the gesture, her arms warm and comforting around me.

"Thank you," I murmured. "Thank you … for everything." I remembered once more the scene at the girls' bathroom, when she had simply walked in, taking me with her. Clearing the path. Being there for me.

"Hey," she told me, patting me gently on the back. "We look out for each other, okay? Someday you'll be helping someone else out like this. Another sister or brother who needs your help."

Peter's phone rang, and he stepped to one side to answer it. I didn't mind; even though I had just decided that I wanted him to be my boyfriend, I knew that he had stuff to do, related to his position in the Empire.

Did I just really decide to join? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, it was a really, really huge step. On the other … it seemed almost inevitable. Peter and his friends were already helping me. Saving me from … from what Sophia had wanted to happen to me.

I had no doubt that if they hadn't intervened, I would have been stuck in that locker, until I died of the stench, or choked on my own vomit, or something equally gruesome. Sure as hell, they hadn't had any plans to let me out.

I felt once more a tide of hate, of loathing, against everything that Sophia was, everything that she represented, and I felt closer to Jenna. She understood. She knew how I felt right then.

But I had to know. I let Jenna go, and faced her. "Got a question."

She smiled warmly. "And I've got an answer."

I took a deep breath. "What if I decided not to join?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Are you deciding that?"

"I … I need to know."

A slight nod. "Well, if you don't want to join, you won't be forced to. We only take members who actually want to be members. You can walk away any time, right up till the day and hour of your final acceptance, and that's it. No repercussions. You don't want to be a member, you're not a member. You can stay a friend of the Empire; that's a whole different matter."

Peter put his phone away and rejoined us. Glancing from face to face, he raised an eyebrow. "Serious discussion going on?"

There was a lump in my throat, but I made my voice work anyway. "I was just asking Jenna what would happen if I decided I didn't want to be a member."

He nodded. "And she told you that there would be no problem with it?"

"Yeah." I looked at him. "Would you have a problem with it?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "You have to make your own choices, Taylor. I can't make them for you. But you know I'd be there for you, whether you chose to become a member or not. Because you know you're more important to me than that." He paused. "So are you actually choosing that, or were you just asking the question?"

I felt the warmth in my chest expanding, and I smiled at the both of them. "Just asking the question," I told him. "This is what I want. I know this now."

"Good to hear," he responded warmly. "Now, I just got told that your father's here. He's in the Principal's office, probably looking for you."

"Oh god," I muttered. "If he saw the locker, and heard what happened, he'll probably be worried sick."

As if cued by my comment, the asthmatic PA system crackled to life. "Taylor Hebert to report to the Principal's office … Taylor Hebert to report to the Principal's office … "

" … and that's me," I noted.

Peter nodded seriously. "Well we won't keep you then," he agreed. "Best go and put his mind at ease."

I latched on to his hand. "I want you to come along," I told him impulsively. "I want to tell him what you did. What you've been doing."

He frowned. "Not so sure about that," he demurred.

My grip on his hand tightened as he made to pull away. "No," I insisted. "I want him to meet you. To know what you're like." A smile flashed across my face. "After all, you are my boyfriend now."

"Uh, maybe I really shouldn't." He made another half-hearted attempt to pull free, but I wasn't letting go.

"No, Peter," I told him. "Seriously. You don't get out of this. You saved me today. You're meeting my Dad, whether you like it or not."

Behind his back, I met Jenna's eyes; her expression seemed to be somewhere between consternation and amusement; in any case, she wasn't interfering.

"I'll just be getting back to class then," she told me.

I smiled at her. "Okay, Jenna. I'll see you later. And thanks again."

"No problem, Taylor." A flashing smile, a wave, and she was gone.

Peter made a feeble attempt to follow her, but I was having nothing of it.

"I should be getting back to class too … " he hinted.

I shook my head as I towed him along the corridor. "Nope."

"Blackwell didn't call for me."

"Don't care."

"Taylor, no father ever wants to find out that his daughter's got a boyfriend."

"Tough. I'm done hiding things from him. That never solved any problems for me."

"Uh … are you going to tell him everything about us? About me?"

I stopped, and looked at him. "You mean, am I going to tell him that you're Empire Eighty-Eight, and that I've agreed to join?"

Emma's words came back to me. You know your dad'll have a heart attack as soon as he finds out.

He nodded. "Yeah. That could kind of make him not so grateful."

I grinned. "Don't worry. I've got a plan."

An apprehensive look came over his face. "Am I allowed to know it?"

My grin widened. "Now what would be the fun in that?"

His apprehensive look intensified, but he made no comment. I drew him onward.

To be honest, I wasn't too sure about my plan either, but I was done letting people walk over me. Peter and the others had shown me how to be strong. More to the point, they'd shown me that they'd back me up if and when I asserted myself. So here I was, asserting myself. And hoping like hell that it didn't all blow up in my face.

I was about to make a leap of faith. Now all I had to do was stick the landing.

I tapped on the door of the Principal's office.

"Come in."

When I opened the door, Dad was already moving toward me; I let Peter's hand go as Dad's arms went around me. I hugged him back just as fiercely, feeling his arms tight about me.

"Oh god, Taylor, what have they been doing to you?" he asked urgently, not letting me go.

"I'm all right now, Dad," I assured him, holding on just as tightly. "I'm all right. It's all right now. I'm not hurt. Just a few bruises."

He let me go and I showed him the discoloured patches on the heels of my hands, where I'd slammed them against the unyielding metal of the interior of the locker. "Bruises, see?" I asked. "I'm fine. I was only in there for about a minute."

He shook his head. "Taylor, I saw that locker."

A nervous giggle arose from my chest. "Admittedly, it was about the longest minute I've ever lived through, but it was only really just a minute."

Slowly, he shook his head. "So what happened? Who let you out?"

I drew a deep breath. "You don't know? Nobody told you?"

"Nobody told me anything," he replied in frustration. "Just that you were shoved in a locker full of trash, and that the two girls who did it have been arrested and taken downtown. They wouldn't even tell me their names."

Principal Blackwell cleared her throat. "Actually, it was -"

I held up my hand to stop her; amazingly, she shut up. "Dad, I think that it's better I show you." Turning to Peter, I held out my hand. "Phone, please?"

He blinked, pulled his phone out, and fiddled with it. When he handed it to me – doing his best to ignore Dad's curious gaze – the video clip was cued up. I handed it to Dad, and he tapped the 'play' icon.

I didn't want to watch it – didn't want any reminder of what I'd been through – so I watched his face instead. His expression was curious to start with, then startlement arose as he recognised Emma. When he saw Emma shutting me in the locker, I saw pure rage on my father's face for the very first time ever. Had Emma been standing before him, her life would likely have been in danger.

His jaw set like stone, he watched the clip through, all the way till Peter coaxed the combination out of me and opened the door. When the clip finished, I caught a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye; the door open, me stumbling out, vomit down my front, covered in muck. And Peter's arm about me, supporting. My arms, clinging to him.

There was silence in the office as Dad tapped the 'replay' icon, and watched it all the way through a second time. As the clip ended again, and the incoherent crowd noise cut out, he raised his eyes to Peter. "You're the one who let her out."

Peter nodded. "Uh, yes, sir."

Dad handed the phone back to him, then held out his hand. "For that, you have my profound gratitude. Danny Hebert."

Peter took it, then shook his hand. "Peter Ferguson, sir. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Danny nodded. "Likewise. So, how do you know my daughter?"

I cleared my throat; they both glanced at me. "Uh, can we maybe discuss this somewhere else?" I asked.

Dad nodded, and bent an unfavourable eye upon Principal Blackwell. "We'll continue this discussion later. You've fallen down badly on your obligation toward my daughter. I suggest that you start thinking about compensation. Lots of it."

He didn't wait for an answer, as we went out the door, Peter leading. I took Peter's hand as we headed down the corridor; after a few paces, Dad noticed, and his eyebrows rose.

We stopped a little way away from Blackwell's office, and Dad turned to us. "Now suppose you tell me what's been going on. All of it."

Peter seemed disinclined to speak, so I took the plunge. "That was Emma on the clip."

Dad nodded. "I thought I recognised her. I'm going to be having words with Alan." There was a certain strain in his voice; I suspected that the words would be neither quiet nor polite.

"She turned against me because of Sophia Hess," I told him. "The black girl in the clip. They've been bullying me since I came to Winslow."

He frowned. "That long? I thought you were friends."

I shook my head. "Did you never wonder why we didn't do sleepovers after I started high school? Sophia and Emma and a friend of theirs called Madison have been doing shit to me all this time."

"Taylor." His voice was wondering. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have done something about it."

"Because they never did anything provable." My voice was bitter. "I tried complaining to the teachers. Nothing happened. They'd get called into the office, get a brief talking to, then let go and they'd start up again. I fought back, once, and I got disciplined, because Sophia and her friends said that I started it, and no-one but me said otherwise."

"But you could've spoken to me," he protested. "I would have believed you."

"And what could you have done?" I took a deep breath. "Come in here? Complained? Exactly the same thing would have happened. Without proof, exactly nothing. And they would've taken it out on me. Again. So I kept my head down, hoped they'd give up, get bored."

"But they didn't." He sounded sick.

"But they didn't," I agreed. "This year, in September, I started a kind of diary. Writing down everything they'd done to me, at the end of each day. Printing out and saving nasty emails."

"Well, at least you did that," he noted with approval. "That's something we can give to the police."

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to do with it, but that's not a bad idea," I agreed. "Around the same time, Peter was transferred in to Winslow, and he saw what was happening, and he tried to offer me his help."

Dad glanced at Peter. "So that's where you come into this." He looked back at me. "You said 'tried' to offer help."

I grimaced. "I was frightened. Other boys had helped bully me, so I thought that maybe he was going to pull some nasty prank on me when I let my guard down. So I pushed him away."

A slow nod. "I can see why you'd think that. Go on."

I took a deep breath. "They kept bullying me, and Peter was there. Offering encouragement. Friendship. He started helping me clean up after things happened to me. Told me that he and his friends could help me, if I wanted them to."

Dad's expression was not encouraging. "I've heard about this sort of thing before. I don't think I like where this is going."

Hastily, I shook my head. "No, it wasn't like that. He never tried anything with me, ever. He was just offering … help. So when he went to Blackwell on his own with information about what was happening to me, and I got blamed for it, and bullied all the more, I decided that I may as well accept. Because they weren't going to let up. So his friends started helping."

"Helping." Dad's voice was neutral.

I looked at Dad earnestly. "They did help, they really did. Every time Sophia or the others tried to do something to me, they got in the way. One boy got suspended because they complained about him so much."

Dad frowned. "Wait a minute. Who complained about who? Peter's friends complained about someone bullying you?"

"No." I shook my head. "His name's Kelly. He was helping me. Literally stepping in the way when Sophia tried to shove or kick me. Emma and Sophia complained about him bumping them in the halls, and he got suspended. For stopping them from bullying me."

Dad's jaw was set again. "I've a mind to go back and have another chat with your principal," he gritted.

"It's okay, Dad," I told him. "He's not suspended any more. In fact, he's the one who took that footage. But yeah, they just wouldn't stop. Remember when I got beaten up?"

He nodded. "I remember. Why didn't Peter's friends stop that?"

"Because Sophia hit me from behind," I told him. "I was walking away from her. Never saw it coming. But Bronson – that's another one of Peter's friends – stopped her after that first hit. Beat her up pretty good."

Dad frowned. "They said they never got a real suspect for that."

I shook my head. "Covering it up as hard as they could. I'm not sure why. Bronson had to run for it, because I'm pretty sure they would have arrested him."

"Even though he was just defending you?" Dad shook his head in turn. "This is ridiculous. Those girls have had far too much influence in this school. I mean, I know that Alan's a lawyer, but why does this Sophia girl get away with so much?"

"I really don't know," I confessed. "She's a track star, but I can't see that counting for all that much. She's actually a bit of a bitch, even when she's not doing something to me. But this time, they did something, got caught on camera, and the police know about it."

"Good," Dad agreed. "But do you have any idea why Emma even turned on you like that?"

I took another deep breath. "Peter says it's because Sophia wants to be her friend, and doesn't want anyone else in her way, so she's pushing Emma to reject me." I shrugged. "It kind of makes sense to me, in a twisted sort of way."

"I see." Dad turned his attention to Peter. "So, Peter. What's my daughter to you?"

Peter blinked, but rallied. "She's a strong individual," he stated. "Sophia and the others have done their best to push her down, but she's still hanging in there, still persevering. I admire that. And personally, I like her, and want to get to know her better."

Wow. I had kind of known that Peter thought that way about me, but to have him say it to my Dad gave me a warm feeling all over.

Dad shook his head. "There's more to it than that. Why are your friends so willing to expose themselves to punishment on her behalf?"

Peter opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Dad, they're just protecting me because Peter asked them to. He's my boyfriend, and … I think I might be pregnant."

Absolute, stunned silence. Dad's face turned slowly red. Peter, just as slowly, swivelled his head to stare at me, his eyes and mouth opening in a classic oh shit, did you just say what I think you just said expression.

"You … little … slimy … bastard." I always knew that Dad had a temper, but he'd managed to keep it reined in. Mostly. Now he was letting it out again. "I'm going to break your fucking neck."

He was advancing on Peter, who was backing up, hands up defensively. I jumped in between them. "Dad! Dad!"

"Out of the way, Taylor." Dad's face was set, his fists were clenched, and a muscle was jumping in the corner of his jaw.

"No, Dad, I was joking! I'm not pregnant! We've never done anything! We've never even made out! He's been my boyfriend for about fifteen minutes! I'm not pregnant, honest!"

Slowly, Dad registered my words. His fists unclenched. "Not pregnant?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. Seriously, no. Not pregnant. But he is my boyfriend, and he's a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight."

Silence, as Dad absorbed my words. "He's in the Empire Eighty-Eight."

I nodded. "Yes."

"And he's your boyfriend."

Again I nodded. "Yes."

"But you're not pregnant."

"No, Dad, I'm not pregnant."

"But you just told me you were." His gaze narrowed behind his glasses. "Because you wanted me to see a worse case before telling me about the Empire Eighty-Eight side of things."

Apprehensively, I nodded. "Uh, yes."

He pressed his lips together. This was not a good sign, but it was a vast improvement, compared to how he'd been a moment ago. "Taylor, I'm disappointed in you."

I began to wonder if the plan had been such a great idea after all. It always works in sitcoms suddenly didn't seem to be such a reliable indicator of success. "I'm sorry, I -"

"Let me finish." His voice was firm, although he seemed to have calmed down. "You should have told me. Even if I wasn't able to do anything to start with. It's better that I know things like this. I could have supported you. I don't like to be blindsided."

"I know, Dad, I didn't ... " I trailed off. How could I say I didn't think you could help me without hurting him badly? "I didn't think," I told him lamely.

"So I gathered," he retorted. "And what were you thinking, associating with a bunch of racist thugs like the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

"Dad, Peter's not a racist thug!" I protested. Racist, yes. Thug, no, I amended in my head. And even the fact of his racism was beginning to have less and less impact than it had before. Am I getting used to it, or am I starting to agree with his views in some part?

I didn't have time to think about it. "I was bullied for a year before he got to Winslow, and nobody did a damn thing about it! Since I met him, he's been nothing but caring and supportive! Okay, so he's in the Empire. So fucking what? Him and his friends are still the only ones who cared enough to do anything about Sophia and Emma and Madison, just because Peter asked them to! And he's the one who got me out of that locker, after Sophia put me in there, and Emma locked the door!"

I stopped for breath, aware that my face was flushed and that my fists were clenched with the intensity of my emotions.

Dad looked at me gravely, and then turned to Peter. "My daughter thinks highly of you, young man. Answer me a question. Why did you offer to intervene on her behalf?"

Peter blinked. "Because she was being bullied by a black girl, sir. And I will not stand aside when I see that happening."

"But there was more than just Sophia doing it," Dad pointed out. "Did you and your friends stop them, as well?"

"Well, yes," Peter told him. "Once she accepted the friendship of the Empire, then we protected her from whoever was trying to bully her. Because the Empire protects its friends."

Dad frowned. "And what form did this 'friendship' take? Was Taylor required to do anything ... specific?"

"God, no, Dad," I burst out. "Peter explained it all before I accepted. They help me out in little ways, I help them out. Nothing bad or wrong. Just ... friends helping each other out."

He gazed at me intently. "So they didn't make you join before helping you out?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. Seriously. They only want recruits who want to be members."

Another frown. "Right." A sad sigh. "I guess this is largely my fault. I haven't been paying attention. I'm sorry, Taylor. I failed you."

I put my arms around him. "Don't talk like that. You didn't fail me. I'm supposed to be safe at school. If anyone failed me, it was the school. But Peter saved me."

Dad nodded. "Yes, I saw the locker." He paused, giving his attention to Peter as I let him go. "Understand this, boy. I'm not happy with the fact that you're Empire Eighty-Eight. I'm not even happy with the fact that it exists. But the fact of the matter is that it does, and that you've been there for Taylor when I could not. You've been a friend to her, in fact. And now she says you're her boyfriend?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir. She asked me, after we both finished getting cleaned up. I accepted."

Dad glanced my way. "You asked him?" His tone was wondering.

I nodded. "I know he likes me. I like him too. And he's done nothing but support and help me."

Just for a moment, Dad closed his eyes. "Well, there's not much I can say to argue with that." He opened them, and fixed Peter with a stern gaze. "Just remember one thing. Empire Eighty-Eight or no Empire Eighty-Eight, I make the rules as to when she can go on dates, and how long she can stay out on those dates."

"Of course, sir," Peter replied immediately. "You're her father. You have that right."

Dad blinked, as if he had expected argument. "What does your father think of you dating a girl who's not part of the Empire?"

Peter looked him in the eye. "He trusts my judgement, sir. Of course, when the time comes, I'll be expected to marry within the Empire, but that's a long way to go yet."

Dad didn't let up. "Does he know that you're associating with her?"

Peter nodded. "She's been a friend to the Empire for several weeks now. I've made it known that she is to be treated as such. Father has not had a problem with that."

"So what's this 'friend of the Empire' stuff?" He looked at me. "What have you been expected to do?"

"Nothing that I didn't want to," I assured him. "A couple of times, I've loaned some of them a few dollars for the vending machines. I've always gotten it back. I've helped Kelly with his math homework. Bronson wanted to know why his girlfriend was mad at him, so I explained how girls think. I passed on a message from Jenna to her boyfriend. Stuff like that."

"That sounds … pretty mundane," he admitted.

"It really is," I assured him. "Face it, Dad. If they weren't Empire, would you have even the slightest problem with them being my friends?"

From the look on his face, I had scored a hit. "I guess not. But I'm still not comfortable with you having a boyfriend. Especially one who's a member of the Empire."

I raised an eyebrow. "Would you be any more comfortable if he wasn't Empire?"

As if he'd been looking for the opening, he nodded vehemently. "Yes, I would."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

"Because then there'd be far less chance of you being arrested!" he snapped.

"Dad," I told him patiently. "I'm not about to do anything illegal. They haven't asked me to, and I'm not going to. Peter being Empire doesn't change that."

He drew in a breath, and his eyes flicked to Peter for a second. "But -"

It was the look that clued me in. "Dad, is this just about the Empire, or is it even a little bit about springing a surprise boyfriend on you? Because either way, I'm not dumping Peter."

I swallowed a little as I said that, hoping that Dad wouldn't take it as a bluff. As much as I loved him, I couldn't cut ties with Peter, or by extension the Empire. The safety, the security, they now represented to me meant too much.

Some of that must have gotten through to him, because his shoulders slumped slightly and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose just below his glasses. "Maybe it is, Taylor," he admitted wearily. "I don't like it that you're associated with the Empire, and I don't like the cheap trick you played. But I can see your mind's made up, and I'm not going to push on it, not right now. But we will be talking about this, later."

I reached out and took his hand. "It's all right, Dad. I'm the same person as I was yesterday. I'm not going to do anything stupid with Peter. But I like him, a lot, and we're going to be spending time together. And I really don't think anyone's going to be trying to bully me again. Not for a long while."

Peter cleared his throat. "Not ever. Not if I've got anything to say about it."

As Dad and I looked at him in surprise, he shrugged slightly. "What? It's true."

Dad gave him a searching look, then grudgingly nodded. "I'll accept that, Peter. For now."

I felt Peter squeeze my hand as he gave Dad a slight smile. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

Sophia sat in a holding cell alongside Emma. On arrival at the station, their ID had been checked, and as they had been both found to be minors, they were placed in holding to await the arrival of their respective guardians.

Emma seemed to have drawn in on herself, a mere shadow of the bright, confident Emma with whom Sophia had spoken just that morning. Sophia turned to her. "What the fuck, Emma?" she demanded in a low tone. "What got into you?"

Emma turned to look at her, and her eyes were … dead. Dull. Lifeless. She shook her head. "I don't want to talk to you, Sophia." She got up and walked to the other side of the cell, where she sat down, and recommenced staring at the floor.

"But I want to talk to you, Emma," Sophia snapped, getting up and following her over. "Why the fuck did you roll over on me? We could've held out." She thought back, recalling the events following the locker. "Wait, that Peter guy, he threatened you, didn't he? Listen, fuck him. He can't touch you. He's fucking nothing."

Emma hunched away from her. "Leave me alone. Don't talk to me."

Sophia grabbed her by the shoulder. "Fucking talk to me, bitch!"

At her pull, Emma swung around and shoved her; Sophia stumbled and fell on her ass. Emma glared at her, a momentary flare of life in her eyes. "I said, fucking leave me alone!"

Mindful of those in the cells around her, Sophia came to her feet with athletic ease. She stalked toward Emma, placing each foot carefully. "No-one does that to me, Emma," she stated threateningly. "So unless you want me to show you why not, start talking."

Emma ignored her, hunched away again. Sophia yanked her around again. Emma tried to shove her once more, but Sophia was ready this time, and clipped her on the jaw. Grabbing Emma by the front of her top, she hauled the redhead to her feet and slammed a knee into her stomach; Emma doubled over, retching.

Sophia stepped back, watching her with satisfaction. "Maybe now you'll -"

Emma launched forward off the bars, colliding heavily with Sophia, bringing them both to the ground. Sophia twisted so that the wind wouldn't be knocked out of her; she brought her knee up again and again, into Emma's stomach, and then as she grabbed the other girl's hair and pushed her head down, into her face. Cartilage crunched and blood flowed.

She rolled over, came up on to her knees, arm cocked to throw another punch -

"Sophia!" The shout, a familiar voice, from the cell door caught her attention. She turned, dropping Emma, pushing her hair back as she looked. Alan Barnes was there, flanked by a police officer and Sophia's twit of a PRT handler. There was also a woman in what she recognised as PRT undress uniform; fatigues, sunglasses and beret, but no helmet or body armour. She bore a sergeant's stripes.

As the cell door opened, the PRT sergeant, whose nametag read LASALLE, stepped forward and lifted Sophia to her feet with a hand under her arm. She was marched to the side while Alan dropped to his knees beside Emma. The redhead was still conscious, and he was able to help her to her feet, although blood ran down her face, and she was wobbly on her legs.

"What's going on here?" she addressed the cop. "What's she here for?" She gestured at the PRT woman.

"You," the police officer told her. "Apparently you're a person of interest in an ongoing case of theirs. Fortunately, we got in touch with your social worker, so all that paperwork's filled out. So now you get to go cool your heels in one of their cells, instead of ours. Rest assured, we'll be sending them all the relevant information. Including the fact that you assaulted a police officer."

Sergeant LaSalle nodded, holding up a pair of cuffs. "Turn around," she told Sophia. "Give me your hands."

"What?" blurted Sophia.

LaSalle unhitched a heavy-duty taser from her belt. "Hands," she repeated.

Seething, Sophia turned her back and allowed LaSalle to handcuff her once more. By the time this was finished, Emma had been escorted from the cell.

Sophia's handler entered the cell. "Has she been read her rights?"

The cop nodded. "Sure. Just before she put the guy in the infirmary with a bitten tongue and a wrenched neck." He nodded toward Sophia. "Don't let your guard down. She's a live one."

"So I see," commented LaSalle. She took a firm grip on Sophia's arm. "First and last warning, kid. You act up, I won't try very hard not to hurt you. Understood?"

Sophia gritted her teeth, biting back the response she so very much wanted to give.

LaSalle hitched her arms up slightly, reminding Sophia that her shoulders were not made to turn in that direction. "I asked a question. Do you understand what I said?"

Grinding her teeth together, Sophia nodded jerkily. "I heard you. I understand."

"Good." LaSalle allowed her arms to lower to their normal position. "Let's go, then."

Still holding Peter's hand, I waved goodbye to Dad. He waved back, still looking not one hundred percent happy, and got into the car. I sighed as he drove off, and we turned to walk back into the school.

"Maybe I should've done like he said, and taken the day off," I ventured. "I'm not looking forward to the rest of the day."

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "I think he wanted to get you away from me, just for a little bit, to prove that he could," he told me jokingly.

I rolled my eyes, and punched him lightly with my free hand. "He's not that petty."

"I've seen Father with my sisters," he countered. "Yes, fathers can be that petty, without even noticing."

"You've got sisters?" I stared at him. "When was I going to hear about this?"

"When you met my family," he replied. "Don't hit me again, please."

"But you having sisters is important," I insisted. "What if they hate me?"

"They won't," he assured me. "They already know about you, and what's been happening." He paused. "I noticed that you didn't tell your father that you were joining the Empire."

I nodded jerkily. "I didn't want to hit him with too much at once. Just letting him know that you were Empire was almost too much for him to accept."

"But you managed it," he pointed out. "Although almost giving both of us heart attacks in the process."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" I gave him my best innocent look.

He favoured me with a mock glare. "A warning would have been nice."

I giggled. "But the look on your face was priceless. The only thing that would have made it funnier would be Kelly, filming for posterity."

"Kelly values his life and limb more than that," he grumped. "That was mean."

I lifted his arm and tucked myself under it, snuggling up to him. He tightened his grasp slightly; I put my arm around his back. "We survived it, and now Dad knows about us, and sort-of approves," I reminded him.

He nodded judiciously. "There is that." He moved his arm to hold me more firmly around the shoulders. "But please, don't do that again. Or warn me first." Touching his fingers to his lips, he touched mine in turn; I kissed his fingertips gently.

"Deal," I agreed, putting my head on his shoulder.

I felt warm, safe and secure.

I could get used to this.

Emma tried not to cry as her nose was re-set; the pain afterward was not nearly as bad as before, but it still hurt. Now, at least, she could breathe. But tears still ran down her face.

Sitting beside her, Alan Barnes held her hand. "What happened?" he asked. "Why did she do that?"

"Because I gave her up, Dad," Emma told him, a little nasally. "I told them everything that I'd ever seen her do."

He blinked. "But why? Why this sudden about-turn? Why are you turning on her?"

She turned to look at him, eyes beseeching him to understand. "Dad, she's done bad things. So have I. They've got us cold on the locker thing. If I roll over on her with everything, before she can do the same to me, they'll go lighter on me. Won't they?"

"Technically, yes, they probably will," he admitted. "But you don't have to admit to anything. Not until you've got an attorney present." He meant that she didn't have to admit to anything the police couldn't prove, as she well knew.

Emma shook her head, recalling Peter's veiled threats. He would carry them through, she knew. It's what I would do. "No, Dad," she told him. "I have to do this. I have to clean the slate."

He frowned, obviously not understanding. "You want to go to juvenile detention?"

Hastily, she shook her head. "No. I just need to get it all off my conscience. Everything Sophia did. Everything I helped her do."

"Well, I'll get the best legal counsel in to represent you," he told her. "Maybe even Carol Dallon."

She mustered a smile. It was weak, but it was there. "Thanks, Dad. I know I can always depend on you."

She felt his arm go around her shoulders, and he hugged her carefully. "Anything for you, Emma. Anything at all."

And so I cast off Sophia Hess, Emma thought blankly. Taylor's stronger than the both of us. Why didn't I see it before?

It was a question that would bother her for quite some time.

"Shadow Stalker."

Sophia walked into Director Piggot's office straight and tall. She was still pissed; once in the PRT HMMWV, LaSalle had removed the cuffs, but had kept a watchful eye on her all the same. Re-entering the PRT building didn't feel like coming home; then again, it had never felt like it. More like a prison with work release. An anchor, holding her back.

She hadn't even been given time to clean herself up, or to put her costume on, before being curtly informed that Director Piggot wanted to talk to her. Along with her handler, LaSalle had accompanied her up, hand on the ever-present taser. She wanted to clean the woman's clock, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that the veteran PRT sergeant could hold her own, even against a cape like her.

"Director," she replied, hiding her anger. It would do her no good now. It had done her no good earlier, but this time she was under control. She would not lash out. Lashing out would be a very, very bad idea.

The heavy-set woman behind the desk stared at her with a single-minded intensity. Sophia felt as though she was being disassembled on the molecular level; if the Director had possessed cape powers, she probably wouldn't have survived walking through the door.

Finally, Piggot laced her fingers together before her. "Tell me what happened at the school," she ordered.

Sophia waited for LaSalle to respond – the sergeant surely would have read the report – but the woman didn't speak. And then she realised that the Director was looking at her. "Me?" she blurted.

Piggot nodded once. "You," she confirmed. "You were there. Tell me what happened at the school. Understand that your future relies very heavily on how you tell me this."

Her handler cleared her throat. "I, uh, viewed the report -"

The Director turned her head, and the faux social worker shut up. "I will be speaking to you, later, about your dereliction of duty," Piggot told her flatly. "For now, shut up and listen." She turned back to Sophia. "I'm waiting."

Fuck, thought Sophia. Motherfucking turdburgers. It's all Hebert's fault. She did this to me.

She took a deep breath. "It's all about the Empire Eighty-Eight."

Director Piggot's eyes narrowed. "Please explain."

So Sophia did. She explained about how the Empire was a problem in the school, and how she'd seen them approaching Taylor Hebert. Wracking her brain to try to recall exactly what Emma might have said about her actions, she did her level best to spin them toward keeping Taylor out of the hands of the Empire.

The photos, she said, were one last attempt to snap Hebert out of it, to show her the reality of the people she was associating with. But she had ignored them.

"And the trash in the locker?" asked Piggot relentlessly.

Well, of course she'd ask about it. It was impossible for her not to know about it.

"That was a bit over the top," Sophia admitted, trying for remorse, but not entirely sure how it should go. Should she look at the floor, or meet Piggot's eyes? "And we shouldn't have locked her in there. That was just … it went too far, right there. We would have let her out."

"Yes," Piggot stated flatly. "You should have. But do you know who let her out? A member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Do you know who took you into custody, and held a member of the Wards for the police? The Empire Eighty-Eight." She was standing by now, leaning against the desk. "And do you know who's showing up as the good guys in all this?" She raised a hand and slapped her desk, with a sound like a pistol shot. "The Empire fucking Eighty-Eight!"

Sophia opened her mouth. "I -"

Piggot glared at her as she subsided back into her chair. "Shut the fuck up. Henceforth, you are banned from all patrols. You will wear a tracking device at all times, until your court date."

Sophia blinked. "Court date?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Piggot leaned forward over the desk. "You will be going back to court, to ascertain exactly what legal penalties will be inflicted upon you regarding today's activities, and all those which Emma Barnes has seen fit to inform us about. I can't kick you out of the Wards today, worse luck, and nor can I throw you straight back into juvenile detention, but once you've attended court, and had the judgement handed down, you will carry out whatever punishment has been assigned to you. As a civilian. Not a cape. Do you understand me?"

Sophia stared. "I – but - "

Piggot seemed to discern her meaning. "Ms Hess, I was going to go somewhat easier on you. Until you chose to assault a police officer. And until I read the list of crimes that Emma Barnes has been assigning to you. Pending proof of those, I have no choice but to decide exactly how big the book is that I'll be throwing at you." She made a tired gesture. "Get her out of here."

Sophia felt her arms being grabbed, clamped behind her. Before she could resist, cuffs closed over her wrists. Not the normal variety; the type designed for her.

And then she was being frog-marched from the room. "You can't do this!" she shouted. "It doesn't happen this way!"

But Piggot was ignoring her, gesturing at her handler to stay. The doors closed behind her. She didn't struggle. It wouldn't do any good.

But she could plan.

Fucking Hebert. It's all her fault.

World Affairs class finished, and I put my books back in my bag. As I stood up, I noted Madison and Julia standing nearby. Deliberately, I caught Madison's eye; she flinched back. I smiled slightly. She'd heard. Good.

Leaving the classroom, I smiled again as Kelly fell into step with me. "Hey," I greeted him.

"Hey yourself," he replied. "Any problems?"

I snorted. "Nope. Everyone who ever caused me trouble is backing right off now. The locker was no fun, but now? It's almost worth having gone through it."

He eyed me with respect. "Okay, there is no way in hell you could convince me to go through that."

I nodded. "Well, I have to agree, I'm not about to back up for a second go."

My phone buzzed; I pulled it out and checked the message. In the line. Your usual?

I smiled and tapped out the return message. Yes please. Thank you sweetie.

As I slid the phone back into my pocket, Kelly pulled his own phone out. "Wanna see something cool?"

"What's that?" I asked.

He grinned and played the film clip. I watched as Sophia was handcuffed, with little in the way of gentleness. Then she was searched, and I winced in sympathy. Then her hands were shifted to the front, and she was let make a phone call. And then … "Holy shit," I muttered.

Kelly nodded. "Isn't it classic? And all we had to do was stand there and watch."

I nodded, running the footage back slightly. Was it so very wrong that I revelled in the sight of Sophia Hess being tasered? Because it felt so very right.

We entered the cafeteria. "Later, Taylor," Kelly told me, peeling off toward the tables where the Empire Eighty-Eight contingent sat.

Peter met me halfway across the room, bearing his lunch and mine; I pulled the money out of my pocket to pay him for what he had bought.

"You don't have to do that," he protested.

"So what?" I asked, tucking the notes into his pocket, then relieving him of my lunch.

"Front steps?" he asked, already turning in that direction.

"No," I told him. "I don't think so. Not today."

Wonderingly, he followed me between the tables to where Kelly sat with his shaven-headed buddies, showing them the same filmclip.

"Hey, Kelly," I said.

He looked around. "Hey, Taylor, what's up?"

I indicated the empty chair beside him. "Anyone sitting there?"

He blinked. "Uh, no."

"Good," I told him. "I am." Dropping my lunch on the table, I sat down, and Peter took the seat beside me.

"You're eating with us today?" asked Kelly, looking somewhat surprised.

I nodded. "Well, I'm joining, so I may as well get to know you all, right?"

"Hell yes," agreed Kelly enthusiastically. He began to introduce me to the others around the table; I did my best to remember names, but I knew that they wouldn't be offended if I forgot. In an interval, I turned to look at Peter. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. The guys across the table leaned across to give us both their congratulations; it seemed the news about us being a couple had gotten around. But the comments were all good-natured, friendly. Peter was held in high regard, and apparently, so was I.

As I started on my lunch, I smiled. I had accepted the Empire Eighty-Eight; they had accepted me. I was one of them, now.

It felt good.

It felt right.

End of Part Four