{A bird hatched in an undeveloped state, requiring care and feeding by the parents}

(•͈⌔•͈ ﾂ

Dinner was a lonely meal, alone at an empty table. I didn't see Heather; I didn't see Nick or Charnel either.

There were a lot of unfamiliar faces, a lot of patients brought in from other portions of Alchemilla. Everywhere I looked there was some sign of the recent upset in Alchemilla's working. There were staff moving furniture, one memorable case of custodial staff trying to pry a sofa out of a storage closet it had somehow found its way into.

There were trashcans piled high with broken glass. Double security at checkpoints and in the cafeteria. I went back to my room early and felt drained. It was painfully reminiscent of the first days after I'd come to Alchemilla

Quiet. Cold. Alone.

Back in my room, There were a couple boxes for me. My exercise clothes, my shoes. A towel and clear water bottle.

I took one look at my computer and threw myself back into my coursework. I'd been gone for days, but I could try to keep up my pace. Thinking about everything that had happened, all of it, I could save that for therapy.

And, seeing Emma had reminded me why I wanted to graduate early. She was making the transition to the next period in her life; I didn't want to be left behind.

I finished a math paper and started reading another chapter of Oliver Twist, but I couldn't concentrate. My mind kept drifting to Mimi and Elle, or to Mom and Emma. Mom taught literature, I wondered when was the last time she had read Oliver Twist. What she would have said about it, what insights she would have had. She always had something to say, and it always sounded so clever and wise.

What would Mom say about Oliver Twist?

I missed Mom.

The clock moved much too slowly. Eventually, I laid my head back, set the book on my chest and stared up at the ceiling. It felt like... like I was dreaming. I closed my eyes and wished I could just let myself drift off...

I started thinking.

Using my power in Doctor Selmy's office had been an eye-opening experience. Experimenting with what I could do had already pushed back my limits further than I'd ever hoped I could, and actually feeling out my limits had left me feeling empowered, centered and grounded. I had felt in control, not helpless and rudderless.

Curiously, I touched my power. That sense of that network of rooms and hallways, and the people in them.

Most were asleep now, but there were still some- staff, I thought. Security, janitors, nurses...

I held up my hand, the one Wine had healed and looked at the smooth, unblemished skin. I flexed my fingers, made a fist, opened my hand and looked at it. Then, cautiously, turned my power on my arm.

The bone and muscle under my skin. I flexed my arm and felt the movement with an awareness I'd never had before, I could feel how far I stretched when I reached, and felt the contraction when I pulled back. I made a fist and threw a mock punch.

I frowned and lifted my other arm, flexing both together. The skin on the arm that had been burnt and healed was more elastic, and when I flexed it moved slightly more freely. I'd never noticed.

This warranted action! I sat up and got out of bed, got down on the floor and tried some stretches, pushups, sit-ups. For the first time, I tried incorporating my power into the movements, turning it on my body.

Using my power on myself was strangely soothing. I could feel the effort, how it was applied, and got a sense of where it was being wasted. I adjusted my arms and my pace, feeling out the differences, the nuances. My heartbeat became a tempo I could hear, like heavy bass music in the background. My breathing became a steady, sustained counterbeat. I could feel my nervous system becoming more active. I started to sweat.

The range of motion, momentum, and the pace, tempo; I I could feel my limbs more acutely than I had ever imagined possible. I could feel the surface of the floor under my hands and feet, feel how the friction of the carpet kept me fixed in place. An awareness of my body and the room around me, it was almost invasive. It was heady, and invigorating.

I stopped after my muscles started trembling, sweat beading on my brow. I toweled my face, wishing I'd changed into my actual exercise clothes first- that was a little annoying. But, wow. I felt energized. I felt good.

Really good.

I lay back down on my bed, listening to my heartbeat and thinking about that. I would start using the exercise room. If I was going to be a hero, I'd need to be physically fit anyway, and I still needed to make up for how inactive I'd been in isolation. I wanted to keep experimenting too, that... it had felt very strange, to know so much about what I was doing. That felt like...

I wasn't sure.

I'd need to keep working on that, see what else I could sense, and what I could do with it. That had felt like the tip of something much larger. I thought about how using my power on the things around me gave me awareness of them, even when I wasn't specifically using my power on them any more. The way I was aware of Alchemilla now. What would using my power on myself do, if I did it enough?

It was something to look forward to.

I picked up Oliver Twist, and turned the page.

(•͈⌔•͈ ﾂ

I still had four hours until morning, and I spent most of that reading, and when I wasn't reading I was thinking, or writing in my notebooks. But when morning did roll around, I opened the door and stepped out wearing my sweats and sneakers. I headed to the exercise room. The nurse on duty offered to walk me through the machines available and help me build a workout program.

It wasn't long before someone else arrived. Lethe and Fusor walked in together, and both of them started on the treadmills. I gave Lethe a wave and she waved back.

The nurse (an 'S. Kendell' this time) showed me an elliptical trainer, a hybrid lateral pull and triceps cable machine, shoulder press- each modified to go up to seven hundred pounds of weight, apparently, to accommodate Brutes. He showed me how to adjust the weight and the proper way to lift the weights. He also advised me to warm up with running on the treadmills first, and stretching.

"There is a yoga group, actually." Kendall explained, they meet in the gymnasium on Wednesdays and Fridays."

Oh, that sounded interesting, "It's... Uh." Labyrinth's world happened Friday, I was out Saturday. Mom visited Sunday. "Tuesday, right?"

"That's right."

Kendell a bulletin board with fliers for activities in the exercise room. There were basketball games in the gym, I knew that- Heather had mentioned them once, I think. There was a play coming up too. That sounded interesting.

"All right," I said, siting down at one of the machines. Time to experiment. I realized a second later that whoever had used it last had left the weights on and I was trying to lift almost four times my body weight, and had to set it lower.

"Auspice?" Fusor had got off the treadmill and walked up to me where I was trying out the thirty pound plate with my back turned to him.

I startled and flinched, and then tried to smile up at his bearded, hard-featured face. He had shoulders like a bear and arms that looked like braided iron cables. I caught myself wondering what he'd looked like a decade or so before.

"Um." I fumbled, unused to him seeking me out. Fusor had always been this presence in the background whenever I saw him. Usually with Lethe, I kind of suspected he'd known her back when she still went out in costume as Falconer.

He didn't talk much.

"I heard what happened to your friend, Cidersong..." He frowned.

I sensed a struggle, as his hands clenched and opened, "If you ever want to talk, I can listen." he said.

"T-thanks..."

He turned around and walked back to the treadmill without another word, leaving me a little bewildered, confused, and just a touch intimidated.

"Thanks? I guess?"

I saw Nick at breakfast and asked him about it, since he'd known about Alpha Lyrae. I was guessing he'd know something about Fusor too. I knew I'd guessed right when his mouth narrowed to a thin line.

"Fusor... He, um, has a shield, you know?" Nick said.

"Yeah." Fusor had been famous for it, he had a strong shield that got stronger with every blow it successfully weathered. He'd been one of the big four in shielding- alongside Narwhal, Bastion, and Marble as the strongest force field generators in North America. Narwhal was known for the organic and highly malleable shape of her fields, lack of Manton restrictions, and audacious choice in costumes. Bastion for the size of the area he could cover, duration, and ability to make his shields selectively permeable. Marble was famous for being able to incorporate other powers and the objects into her effects, and for being able to move her shields around very freely. Fusor's powers were almost mundane compared to Narwhal, or Marble, but of the four Fusor had undoubtedly been the one with the highest raw durability.

Which was one of the things that mildly confused me- he'd been a fairly big name for a while, then the Chicago roster had simply dropped him. Fusor had participated in several Endbringer fights, he was a veteran with considerable experience. Why drop him? Why was he even here?

"He had a second trigger event." Nick said.

I frowned, "Trigger events- I've read about trigger events. That's how a parahuman gains their powers... So, a second trigger is like that? It can happen more than once?"

"It's more than that, Taylor." Nick said, "A, uh, trigger is the lowest point of someone's life, when they are at their most desperate. When they don't have anywhere to go, when they can't, uh, escape." Nick looked into the distance absently, far away, "A point that changes them forever..." He murmured, looking at something I couldn't see or know.

I thought about Fusor and triggers. About what Nick had said. A second trigger. I remembered my own- Mom and me, in that ally, with the bodies on the ground and the warmth on my hands and the smell.

The cafeteria was quiet that morning; a lot of the usual faces had been shuffled around following the upheaval of the previous week. There were a lot of Kudzu- I could see four on the walkways above the cafeteria floor, and to more by the doors on the patient level. I idly wondered if Kudzu was going to be transferred to Alchemilla permanently.

My eyes wandered over the patients, mostly blue scrubs, except for me. I wondered what Nick saw, what his power was giving him. I directed my power to one then another, idly skimming. It was interesting, I couldn't pull much off them if I'd only seen them once, but the surface impressions were sometimes very strong. That one over there, the man with the brown hair and the droopy eyes, I was picking up some kind of mental power from him. Something to do with emotions, but also... something to do with his surroundings. A perception power tied to what... had been? Postcognition?

"A second trigger is when it happens again?" I asked.

"No." Nick said. I looked up, frowning, but he elaborated, "It's worse. It, um, varies from cape to cape, but it's generally worse. Uh, whatever happened to them before, taken further, or over a longer period of time, or... It's just worse. And when you second trigger, when you reach that point, when you don't have anywhere you can go your power, or whatever it is that gives powers, it changes your power."

"Usually it relaxes restrictions, makes it easier to access, or makes it more flexible." Nick said, "Fusor's second trigger added something to his power, so that when his shield is hit, it does more than just get stronger. Now it... if something hits it, his shield counterattacks. Like, it counter strikes with an energy pulse that fries whatever hit him. But he was in the middle of a fight."

I thought about that, Fusor's team used to have a strategy of attacking his fields, using his field's increased strength to outlast fights. But, if it counterstruck...

I felt cold, "What happened?"

"Two of his team died." Nick said shortly.

We were silent for several minutes, I ate my oatmeal and bowl of mixed fruit. Drank my boxed milk.

"How do you know all of that, Nick?" I asked, "I couldn't find anything online."

"Know what people are ashamed of, remember?" Nick said, staring at the table miserably, "It's how I know..."

For the first time, I thought I understood, truly understood what Nick had meant by his power being distasteful to use. Frightening. Just a little. But in understanding, I could also feel his own discomfort, and it became less frightening for it. "It's okay Nick." I said.

Nick didn't say anything for a moment, but I could feel some of the tension drain out of him.

"Some people think when you get your powers that it changes you so you always seek out situations like the one that gave you powers." Nick said.

"Really?"

"It's a theory, why a lot of parahumans are violent, uh, why they seek out uses for their powers that involve fighting."

What would that mean, for me? For trying to leave Alchemilla? I thought about Mimi, here four years and without hope of ever leaving. Of Heather, and how she aggressively toed the line. About Lizard Prince... There was a parallel, between Heather and Lizard Prince and the disregard, the disrespect they showed for rules at Alchemilla. Harassing the staff and other patients without the need to do so, because they could. Why did Heather insist on doing that?

"Have you seen Heather today?" I asked.

Nick looked up, "No, why?"

"I wanted to talk to her."

"We have a workshop later, I can tell her if you'd like?"

"That's all right, I can..." I trailed off.

The cafeteria doors opened. Quilt and Frog entered, and I could feel emotions from them-

-anger, fear, sorrow-

They moved along the line with four trays, not two. I didn't see Lizard Prince anywhere, or Marionette, or Inkling or that other one- the cat man? Quilt and Frog filled their platters and instead of moving to the table, shuffled out the door with their arms full.

"What is it?" Nick asked.

"That was Lizard Prince's gang."

Nick shot a wary look towards the door, "Are they up to something?"

"I... Don't think so." I said.

"You can't tell?" Nick asked, disappointed. Oh, all my friends all have too much faith in me.

"No, my power needs time to work across a room, I don't know them well." I glanced at him, "What about you?"

"Quilt is always afraid of being unwanted. Uh, she's ashamed of how afraid she is of abandonment. Frog wants to be supportive, to be closer to her, but he can't talk and can't understand speech. No mouth. He barely looks human and hates it."

I turned and looked at him.

"Sorry." He said, leaning away and looking uncomfortable.

I shook my head, "You just surprised me. You got all that from across the room?"

"Not all of it, I've talked to them before." He looked up, the relief that I wasn't cringing away from him was palpable, "I can read the broad strokes by looking at them, but if I want more I have to get closer."

"Huh. All right." That was interesting. I wondered if Nick ever experimented with his power, or if he hated it too much. It sounded like it'd be unpleasant, but it could be useful...

But what about Quilt and Frog? I concentrated on my sense of the hallway outside, and the motes moving along it. With breakfast still being eaten, there weren't many. Two, moving together were easy to pick out.

And there was something off.

I wondered what made me so sure. Maybe it was that there were only the two, when I'd only ever seen Lizard Prince's clique as a group. Where were the rest of them? I wasn't sure what it was, but it rubbed me the wrong way...

"Hey, Nick, come with me."

I stood up. Nick looked confused, "Why?"

"I want to find out where they were going, come on."

(•͈⌔•͈ ﾂ

Nick followed me looking very unsure of himself and maybe just a little resigned. I wondered if it was a bit of Heather rubbing off on me and browbeating him into submission by proxy Previously, only Heather had managed to produce that reaction from him with any kind of regularity, so I tried to imagine that was a sign of growing friendship. I also promised myself I'd find a way to make it up to him. He had enough shit to deal with from Heather, but one thing at a time...

I trailed behind Quilt and Frog, with Nick in turn trailing behind me with a faint cloud of dissatisfaction hanging over him, and the two of us worked our way back through the patient rooms. I almost wouldn't call it following, because I didn't need to see them, I could sense where they were through the walls and in the map I had built of Alchemilla in my head. Even after they went into a section of patient rooms that I hadn't been through more than once, their positions relative to myself remained clear enough to allow me to track them. It was a little heady, a taste of what I could do, to operate with this kind of super-awareness.

Neither of the two we were following were moving particularly fast, probably because they were carrying those loaded trays, so we started catching up. Eventually, Quilt and Frog both stopped at a door. By then Nick and I were following them from around the corner, and I could hear them knock on a door. After a couple moments, I heard the door open. The door closed and I turned the corner, Nick still following gamely on my heels. It was one more door in a hallway of door with numbers and letters.

At the far end of the hall I could see a nursing station with an armored guard loitering nearby.

My power hinted that he was a lot more aware than he immediately appeared. A significant portion of his attention was not fixed on the pretty nurse he was chatting with, but actually on the hall I was walking down. He wasn't watching it constantly, just standing nearby, but it made me vaguely nervous.

The door I was looking for was marked 015. I rested a hand on the doorframe, listening. I could hear talking, and sense four warm bodies with at least mild familiarity. Their voices sharpened as I bent my power to that impression of the acoustics in the room.

Quilt was talking, quietly and gently, "You feeling up to going out today Ink?"

There was a sound that I couldn't immediately place, a mewling, reedy bubbling sound.

"That's okay. That's okay, you feel up to some breakfast?"

"We got some food for yah." said another voice. I didn't recognize it, though it sounded vaguely male, if a man had sandpaper for vocal cords.

"Yeah, we got you something." Quilt said, "Want to give it a try?"

The burbling continued, rising and falling in pitch, hitching and stuttering. It sounded like water trapped and bubbling in a pipe, until it dawned on me that it was the sound of someone crying. I tried to imagine it as something else, but couldn't manage it. And then I froze because that feeling of being watched, the feeling of eyes settling on the back of my head, was back.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up.

Was it the Masked Man? It felt different this time. Not a feeling of being hunted, more like someone suddenly passing by a window I was peeking through and noticing me.

I was still trying to place it when the door opened and I came face to face with Frog. You didn't appreciate the fact he didn't have a mouth, that his eyes were lidless and the size of grapefruits, until you were standing three feet from him with the full weight of that stare on you. All of which was immediately blocked when the man with the teeth, Prowler, stepped in front of me.

I swallowed, my throat dry, "Hi."

He was larger than Frog, heavily muscled, and all those teeth; I took a step back. "What're you doing here?"

"I-I... I saw you at breakfast," I said, "I thought maybe something was wrong." I said, which was basically true and at any rate I couldn't think of anything better to say in light of all those teeth.

"We were worried!" Nick said. I was surprised that he'd stepped in and spoken up.

"Fuck off Auspice." Prowler growled, "Don't want you here, Protectorate."

"I'm not with the Protectorate." I said carefully. The strange sobbing still gurgled in the back of the room, but I couldn't see anything beyond Prowler. Where did he get the idea I was with the Protectorate?

"Don't care, get lost." I hadn't realized before he lifted his hands, but those strange structures on his arms and his far too many teeth were not the only mutations. He had inch-long claws too.

-anger, sorrow; looking for an emotional outlet; history of violence; inclined to view strangers as enemies-

Antagonizing him seemed like a bad idea, in fact I was starting to realize this was a bad idea in general. I raised my hands and backed away a step. But someone else spoke up from in the room.

"Prowler, honey. Please."

Prowler stiffened, "Quilt, stay out of this. Ink don't need anyone else telling her she fucked up."

"And she doesn't need you growling in the door either." Quilt said, "So move it, or shut your mouth."

Prowler snarled, showing more teeth than a shark, but stepped out of the way grumbling and muttering under his breath, giving me a clear view of the room.

It looked like a tiny art studio, every inch of the walls were covered in paper, or hidden behind canvasses. Some were abstract, others were covered with dense lines of flowing symbols, script. I didn't recognize the language, but I was almost sure they weren't Kanji. Others were landscapes, and a few were of patients and doctors. I recognized Frog, Prowler, Quilt, Inkling herself; Lizard Prince featured prominently.

Two cafeteria trays lay forgotten at the foot of the bed, next to Quilt. She was sitting beside Inkling, rubbing her back, and Inkling might have been the biggest surprise waiting for me. Inkling was completely removed from the menacing parahuman that had taken a swipe at me yesterday. Her face was blotchy, eyes puffy, and it appeared that she wept more of her ink instead of tears- the effect was almost like she'd been wearing heavy mascara before she'd started. Inkling's hands were ink stained to the wrists, and there were black smears on her scrubs and on the bed. So much of it that I wondered if it was tears after all, or if she actually secreted ink. Her... hair.. head-tentacle things moved, coiling in and out in agitation. It was weird, this was the first time I'd seen her up close, really gotten to look at her without some other distraction interfering. She had the two big flat ones framing her face, one on either side, and also a knot of them tied up behind her head.

They were hairless, and shiny-smooth. The outer surfaces were dark purple that was almost black, speckled violet, while the undersides were pale cream.

-Sorrow-

I blinked in shock. Inkling was in pain, I could feel her guilt- and it surprised me, it rocked me back on my heels. It had taken a great deal of familiarity to start picking up on emotions that clearly from someone. Or, maybe it was just that clear, and that sharp... The others too, all of them were deeply sad, or tortured in guilt, or boiling with anger. But none of them were like Inkling.

One of Inkling's canvasses lay on the floor in front of her, this one was Lizard Prince and Inkling, and suddenly the bottom dropped out of my stomach- I understood why Inkling was broken up like this.

Frog Tapped me on the shoulder, jarring my out of my surprise. He raised one finger, then made a so-so gesture with one hand and pointed to Inkling, then traced a trail down his cheek with one finger.

I stared at him a moment, then looked back at Inkling.

"Hello?" I said cautiously, then, "Are you all right?"

Inkling's tendrils curled in, and she hiccupped wetly, more ink ran down her cheeks, before she looked at me.

"What do you want?" She demanded, with a little more heat than I expected. Her four-pointed pupils had narrowed to little black crosses. She showed her teeth, it was like they were all fused together, a single shelf of bone in her mouth that rose to three triangular points.

"I wanted to see how you were doing." I said, trailing off. I hadn't thought this through, I think, "Are you all right?"

"The fuck, why?" Inkling hiccupped, her lip trembled, then she leapt off the bed right at me. Ink sprayed in a wave, I stumbled back with a squawk, blinded. I could feel her power work, and she moved ten feet across the room in her ink trail in a blink. Without my normal sight to guide me, my power gave me a second's warning before her fist could hit my jaw and I dodged, but failed to avoid the second blow which caught me in the stomach and bent me double and heaving on the ground.

Inkling kicked me in the ribs, rolling me over. She lifted her foot to kick me again and I felt her weight, supported on one leg- my power supplied and angle and the force, and I reached out, toppling her with one arm as I scrambled to my feet. Inkling fell to the ground, but instead of a thud, there was a ripple like water disturbed by a diver and she vanished under the surface of the ink.

I pulled myself to my feet, warily backed against the wall. When Inkling reappeared, she rose from the floor, already standing upright, she was facing me- her eyes didn't need to seek me out. Quilt, Frog, and Prowler piled out of her room, forming a tense line of solidarity behind her.

Nick hadn't abandoned me- he was at my back, eyes darting back and forth. He had scrambled out of the line of fire and was only lightly splattered. The guard that had been standing over by the nursing station was moseying down the hall, one hand on his radio.

Inkling stood glaring at me until her eyes started tearing up again, she sniffled and wiped her face on the back on her hand.

-grief, sorrow, guilt, anger-

"No, I'm not fucking all right." Inkling warbled, "I got Patrick sent to the 'cage."

Behind her, Quilt immediately spoke up, "You didn't! Prince did what he wanted and you know it; he was looking for some trouble, he would have found it without you."

"He was smart" Inkling snapped, "If he'd come up with it he'd have gotten away with it!" She glared at me.

Everyone fell silent for a moment, until Inkling started sniffling again.

Inkling frowned at me with watery eyes, then cradled her face in her hands and sobbed, "They're caging Patrick…"

"What happened?" I asked cautiously.

Quilt stepped in, rubbing Inkling's back. "Lizard Prince was sent to Baumann Penitentiary." Quilt said at last, "He was shipped out last night."

She raised her head, took a look at me, and shot a questioning look at Frog. He raised his hands and began to sign- too quick and fluid for me to keep up with. Inkling was still crying, Quilt wrapped her in a hug and guided her back into her room.

So, Summer Holiday had made good on her threat. When she'd said his case review got 'bumped up', I'd thought he'd get transferred to a different wing, or brought before a board or something first. But maybe that had already happened? Maybe Summer had other things on her plate and didn't have any patience for Lizard Prince taking advantage of the disorder in Alchemilla to cause additional havoc. The tension of Inkling's initial outburst had dissipated some, but Frog and Prowler were still watching me.

"The Birdcage?" Nick asked in surprise, "I, um, didn't think..."

He trailed off under Prowler's glare, "Yeah, the Birdcage, where the Protectorate throws everyone they don't got the stomach to kill. Prince pushed too many times, they got tired of cleaning up the messes, and he not a Protectorate, so he got cut out." He turned and smiled at me. All those teeth... his long, thin tongue flicked out, and he hissed, "Protectorate get out of Alchemilla, the rest of us rot."

Mimi had said something like that too, hadn't she?

Doctor Yamada would be calm and composed, in command of herself, and thus in command of the situation. Doctor Selmy would have a charismatic flair, he'd win them over by connecting to them.

What would Mom do?

"You knew him a long time?" I asked.

"Yeah." Prowler said, "He looked out for us ever since he got here. Don't get that a lot, looking like we do."

I looked at his rows and rows of teeth, and had to agree. A glance and I saw Nick was still at my back, bravely sticking with me.

"I'm sorry." I said, feeling a little hollow.

Prowler narrowed his eyes and snorted, then turned and stormed off down the hall.

I turned to Frog, who shrugged and lifted his hands to offer a couple quick gestures that I utterly failed to grasp. Frog using sign language should have surprised me less. His profile of Parahumans Online said he couldn't understand spoken language... Uh... Fluent aphasia? I think that's what it was called. But I was a little disappointed that my power didn't allow me to immediately grasp what he was saying. It was like a new language.

I got the general impression of... An apology. Could I use my power to learn sign language? I'd need to find out... but that was something for later.

I sighed. "Thanks for sticking with me, Nick."

I gave Frog a wave, and he nodded, so at least that bridged the gap. He returned my wave and stepped back into Inkling's room, closing it behind him. I watched him go feeling a little dejected. At the far end of the hall, the security guard was back at the nursing station, but I could feel his eyes on me.

That left Nick and I alone in the hall. I looked down and my hands, covered in ink, feeling drained.

"Let's not do that again." Nick pleaded.

He sounded a little desperate, but I guess he hadn't liked being dragged along for my poorly thought out excursion. Another thought occurred and I frowned, "Oh damn it. Heather is going to hate me for dragging you along on this without her."

Nick just groaned.