[REVISED SOMEWHAT - 1/31/18]
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Visiting Kalie's... siblings... always instilled a certain weariness in Geoffrey Selmy.
Not a physical tiredness, and not a philosophical futility. It was an emotional hollow that swallowed everything else up and no amount of energy filled. Not only due to what they represented to Kalie, the painful reminder of her darkest hour and the weeks of backsliding that followed. Telling her that she couldn't have known, and reassuring her that he stood by her- even while he was under review himself.
Those that had died here were his charges, and he had stood by them the same way he had stood by Kalie. Even as they started to slip through his fingers.
Kneeling next to one of the most endangered of those here under his watch, he felt quite hollow indeed.
"Judy, how are you?"
The woman, curled in on herself in the corner, was thirty years old. She'd been twenty-four when she had been diagnosed with liver cancer. Her prospects had been poor. She had the option of getting a transplant, which would be expensive, or undergoing the PRT's study on Kalie's power and get paid for her own surgery. Now, she sat in the corner of her room in Alchemilla, rocking and hugging her legs.
"Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me. Not me."
"Judy?"
Judy's eyes emerged, peeking over her knees. They were dilated, almost all pupil swallowing up the color. She shivered, and her head snapped back against the wall with a crack, eyes rolling in her head.
"Not... Not me!" She shook her head, swaying with the motion. Her hand reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes; her fingers were shaking, her arm jerking irregularly.
Her motor skills were deteriorating rapidly, earlier that week she had been able to stand. Now, she could barely talk.
Geoffrey looked up at Meredith, "Has she taken her medication-
"There isn't an appreciable difference any more, Doctor," Meredith said, sadly. "She's too far gone."
"I see," he breathed, sighing from deep within, feeling every year to his bones.
Meredith Wainwright was an older woman, with kindly eyes and a small frame. She had been at Alchemilla eight years now, and had more than a decade of hospice care prior to her transfer. The last two years had been primarily caring for the woman here, slowly transforming into copies of his daughter.
Elsewhere in Alchemilla she would have been relegated to an administrative or supplementary role, but Feral's copies didn't get violent, not even after the seizures started. Instead of the helpless anger, or worse, the dismay and despair found elsewhere in the hospital, the girls here fell back to a childlike state, filled with an infant terror. Meredith and the orderlies that worked with them needed a softer touch than was sometimes found at Alchemilla.
"Are we going to lose her too?"
Every line on Meredith's face deepened, and her soulful brown eyes were soft as she watched Judy rock in confused terror, "I certainly hope not." Meredith replied, and that was the most comfort she could offer.
As they watched, Judy started to cry, bawling and wailing like a child. Like a baby. Meredith knelt down and pulled Judy into her arms and held her as she wept in bewilderment.
Geoffrey stood and quietly turned, closing the door behind him.
Judy might live. Helen might too, and Frida was probably through the worst of it. He was starting to suspect that those that had survived to this point would pull through.
Back in the commons room, Kalie sat with Frida and Jacie while Mack paced in front of them- talking emphatically, punctuating some point with sharp swings of her arms.
"-a whole team of Ferals, I mean, I always kind of wanted powers, and it might be cool to try something like that." Mack was saying, "Once this- this- this thing is done and we- we finish becoming more of you..."
Mack ran hands through her hair- eyes darting to Kalie and away nervously, her eyes had completely turned their new color, narrowed and catlike.
Geoffrey was glad of that, there was usually a period of a week or so when the patients afflicted with Feral's rampant power went blind. It could last longer, depending on the order in which organs metastasized. For Mack, that hell was over.
Kalie's hair was undone- a massive cascade down her shoulders that Frida ran her fingers through, clumsily arranging her hair into a new braid.
It struck a chord both bitter and sweet to his very core, whenever he saw the tenderness with which Kalie treated them. It was heartening, and proved that in the face of the tragic results of Kalie's attempts to use her power to benefit others, Kalie had her heart in the right place.
She always had, he was sure. Even through her years as the hellion of Alchemilla.
Mackenzie was showing off her costume sketches now, Kalie commenting as Frida steadily worked through the braid. Kalie looked up when he sat down, nose twitching slightly as she tested the air, "How is she?"
"About as well as can be expected." Geoffrey sighed, "We'll know better in a few days."
The look that Mack and Frida exchanged didn't escape Geoffrey. He had seen it more than once over the past years. The little common room had a wall covered in photographs, and Frida's eyes flickered to it momentarily. The photographs were of the others, the ones who didn't make it.
Their shrine to the fallen. Kalie's idea.
He leaned back and let Mack talk, and Frida braid Kalie's hair while Jacie sat on her lap. It was something of a ritual whenever Kalie visited. Kalie's personal resolve to do right by them, and her almost childlike determination and dedication to the classical ideals of a hero. Defender of the weak, champion of the just.
She was... surprisingly innocent. Was that the right word? Geoffrey pondered that.
Yes... Before he had adopted her, she was dedicated to the nonsense she had been raised on; childish dreams of street-level glory such as it was. Measured in most impressive thievery, most impressive scar, most intimidating reputation. Each grisly reality she confronted left her horrified and terrified, and searching for an anchor, even when she loudly refused to trust him. He had seen that blossom forth into the drive that encapsulated her as a young woman. Despite being far from innocent in any conventional sense, Kalie was motivated by a childlike faith in her own capability, and his own.
He hoped, more than anything else he aspired to, to do justice by that faith.
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Kalie's hair was braided, and Helen was pursuaded to join them long enough for Kalie and Frida to paint all their nails.
Helen was jittery, confused and frightened in turns, she swung back and forth between lucid and fugue states, and Kalie had to restrain her briefly when she started pulling out her own hair. Geoffrey made a note to put her under observation for the next two weeks, throughout the episodes until she stabilized.
Shortly after the hair pulling was stopped, it became clear that Helen would need to be returned to her room, and Geoffrey called and end to visiting hours.
"I'll be back tomorrow, I hope," Kalie said, squatting down to eye level with Frida, and ruffling Jacie's hair.
"Yeah, looking forward to it," Mack said, standing behind Frida's wheelchair. Frida just nodded.
Kalie was quiet as they walked back, mulling.
They reached the elevator, stepped inside. Kalie thumbed the button for the floor above, then gave a cheeky wave to the camera dome on the ceiling. Geoffrey laughed. "Hey, that got a laugh," she said, grinning.
Two floors up, the elevator stopped, and the two stepped out. "Tomorrow we'll have something more involved than babysitting." Geoffrey said, "Make sure you sleep well, Kalie."
"Yeah, thanks." She bent down and hugged him- gently -around the shoulders.
He watched her go, head held high, steps sure. He turned and began walking, more slowly now.
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The week was a whirlwind of tests, sessions, meetings and a stressful, shifting itinerary. By the end, he found himself sitting in on the security assessment team. He had drawn the metaphorical straw and come up short.
It was unavoidable. With Director Foster officially withdrawn from Alchemilla, with his replacement still not declared, and Assistant Director Harvey occupied with renovations, the bad press, and general fallout from the past several weeks, Geoffrey was the senior-most doctor on hand. This left him to direct the efforts of the Protectorate capes, and approve or defer their suggestions.
It was not the authority of a Director, of course. Any suggestions he made would be shunted through a committee, implementation would be out of his hands. Like most of the bureaucracy in the PRT, it was sluggish. In the fast-paced and ever-shifting landscape of parahumanity, it never seemed like enough.
He was reminded of Doctor Yamada's complaints in her more unguarded moments. Jessica often said she didn't make plans, because there was always a crisis of some sort. While Geoffrey tended to find such mentality dangerous and demoralizing, he could certainly sympathize. It frustrated Jessica to no end.
Jessica Yamada had an iron spine, and a good head on her shoulders. He would have preferred her, and not Kenneth.
Kenneth Fox was... He was not a bad man. Eager, compassionate. Very intellectually agile and well-read. Very at home with theory and observation. Not the worst colleague Geoffrey had worked with.
But he was inexperienced, untested; too new, too unsure of himself. Too nervous.
There was a divide in the staff at Alchemilla, the ones that lasted and the ones that passed through. Geoffrey had watched the tide roll in and then out enough times to see the driftwood come and go. The philanthropists never stayed, never lasted.
If compassion was Kenneth's motivation, Geoffrey would have to advise him to find a different venue. Too many bright young minds burnt themselves out at Alchemilla.
Then again, there was another possible motive. Fascination. Typically, a fascination with dysfunction. Neurological, philosophical interest, but first a fascination with dysfunction. Many psychologists and psyciatrists were like that.
Doctor Kenneth Fox struck him as the latter.
Geoffrey guessed Kenneth's nervousness was mostly a result of the chilling glower leveled by Pinpoint directly across the table from him. The severe expression leant a degree of savagery by his scars that no whole human face could hope to match.
Summer Holiday sat beside Pinpoint; Shelter and Tecton rounded out the group on the other side.
Tecton was not wearing his armor today- instead sporting a jumpsuit in his colors- bronze and rust red -and a domino mask. He did wear a rather elaborate bandolier and belt, with multiple pouches and electronics. A particularly elaborate device, something resembling a baton crossed with a handheld radio hung at his shoulder and trailed a rope of wires over his shoulder. The boy himself looked uncomfortable and rather plain. Well-built and brawny, but only when measured against any other sixteen year old, with short brown hair and average height. He shifted a bit in his seat, not as agitated as Kenneth, but nervous.
He was, Geoffrey understood, a relatively new addition to the Wards program, and this was his first visit to Alchemilla. It was understandable.
In contrast, Summer Holiday was immaculate and unruffled as ever, her flesh and blood leg crossed over her prosthetic. Of all those present, she was the only one that appeared at ease, the only movement she betrayed the tapping a single finger on her arm as she spoke.
Pinpoint was the tough sell. Assessment of the likelihood of, and the prevention of, Interjection events was the primary purpose of power assessments. For patients with particularly volatile or indiscriminate powers this was especially important, and Pinpoint was well-suited to assessing the patients and the security intended to keep them safe and contained.
He was also well-connected in the PRT, an experienced field operative and consultant, his word held considerable weight. And however blunt and tactless he seemed, his advice was valid- Geoffrey admitted, scanning the list of recomendations.
A list Geoffrey was scanning between glances at his cooleagues. Most of the suggestions were sensible. Practical.
Others were perhaps more representative of his time in PRT Assault- and an attitude more typical of PRT leadership. That of controlling dangerous parahumans, controling public perception of them, and of shaping the role they held in society. But closer restrictions were more often counter productive than not at Alchemilla.
"Labyrinth's power and its nuances are manageable, and she isn't dangerous." Summer Holiday said.
"Transforming the entire campus and blocking rescue attempts for hours dosn't sound mangable to me." Pinpoint countered.
Summer Holiday's face was impassive, but she did glance sideways at Pinpoint before answering. "I feel it would be premature to suggest a drastic change of routine. Particularly considering the mentor program, and its current, optimistic outlook."
Geoffrey looked from one to the other, then picked up a second packet and began to leaf through. Tecton, thusfar silent in the exchange, shifted uncomfortably on his chair.
The meeting proceeded, Pinpoint and Summer Holiday butted heads, an argument broke out. Summer and Pinpoint both sniping back and forth under a veneer of civility and professionalism, while Summer seethed and Pinpoint glowered, both steadily getting more heated.
Geoffrey let it progress just long enough to cut it off at the source and adjourned the meeting, to let hot heads cool. Frustrateing, but not unexpected. Strong-willed people often made good heroes, but poor negotiators; and Pinpoint had a, ah, reputation.
The two senior heros left quickly, faces stony and silent. Geoffrey gathered up a handful of papers, the folders and paraphinalia could remain for the time being, for next time.
"Good god," Kenneth muttered. "My neck is seizing..."
Geoffrey clapped him on the back, "Get something to eat, Kenneth. This mess will keep until after lunch."
The younger doctor nodded and showed himself out. Geoffrey stopped, looking at the table, still strewn with papers. A mess, Geoffrey sighed.
Tecton stood just outside the door, looking uncomfortable and unsure, arms crossed and eyes snapping up when Geoffrey finally stepped out into the hall.
"Ah... Tecton."
Tecton fidgeted and shifted from one foot to the other. Geoffrey watched him, resting his hands on the head of his cane.
"Remind me again, you are out of the ... Chicago Wards, correct?"
"That's right."
"I've done rounds out that way. The Windy City's winters are a little colder than I prefer, but it is beautiful in summer."
"Yeah."
"What can I do for you?"
"Ah... A friend of mine wanted me to ask about, uh. Monster capes."
Doctor Selmy frowned, and leaned back a little, "Monster capes?"
"Well, I..." Tecton shifted a little, hesitating.
Geoffrey glanced down the hall, "Walk with me?" He set off, and Tecton fell into step, keeping pace beside him, "... Does this friend have a name?"
The boy hesitated.
Geoffrey was beginning to sense a pattern, see why Tecton had been so quiet in the presence of the senior Protectorate capes. He deffered to his seniors. Not a flaw per say, but he might have difficulty asserting himself...
"Gully," Tecton said at length.
Doctor Selmy tapped his fingers on the head of his cane, "Tell me about your friend, Gully."
"She, uh. She's helped me a lot. My power isn't really straightforward, and there's... Issues." Tecton paused, searching fore words. "Every Tinker's different, and Tinker powers, they aren't straightforward like some powers are. I had a lot of trouble with mine. Tinkers that work with buildings, that's rare."
Geoffrey made a considering noise in the back of his throat.
"She's looked out for me, you know? She asked me to keep an eye out for other monster capes, if I could."
Geoffrey nodded slowly, "Gully, does she, by chance, suffer from memory loss?"
The boy nodded, more confidently this time. His eyes were steady behind the silly domino mask, "She doesn't know who she was, without powers."
"In the circles I move in, as well as to many in the Protectorate, they're called case fifty-threes. I believe Alexandria coined the phrase?" Geoffrey said, "I imagine... She has fairly prominent physical mutations due to her power?"
Tecton looked away, "Yeah. She gets a lot of grief for it. All of them do."
Geoffrey stopped, and turned to face the boy. Tecton met his eyes, his own gaze earnest.
"Have you met many?" Geoffrey asked.
"A few... Gentle Giant. Sanguine."
Tecton was open, honest, his eyes clear- it was welcome and real. Geoffrey smiled, "I imagine she is lucky to have a friend like you." Geoffrey said, "As it happens, there are a few patients like her here. Many pass through PRT assessment when they're discovered, though I don't recall any calling themselves Gully. I probably ought to warn you, however, we have recently lost a patient; he left us for Baumann Penitentary. The experience was not pleasent for any of us, I can't promise they will be receptive."
Quilt would be, and probably Frog too. Prowler tended to go along with the majority. Oilbloom and Mantellum had never met Lizard Prince. It was Inkling that would be the opposition there.
"I understand." Tecon said.
"No." Geoffrey said sharply, "You don't understand, don't go into this assuming you will." He sighed, "Case fifty three parahumans have very little. No family except the ones they make. Not all of them are lucky enough to find the Protectorate and the Wards. Many, a great many, end up in trouble with the law. Or dead. The numbers are not good."
Too many. Dead or lost...
Tecton swallowed, "Who was it? That went to the birdcage?"
"A minor villain named Lizard Prince." Geoffrey said, "...Oh, don't give me that look. He was just a petty thief. Lizard Prince gave them a place to belong; he was personable, when he wanted to be. His loss hit them hard."
He paused, "I'll introduce you"
Tecton nodded thoughtfully, "Thank you, sir."
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That evening, Geoffrey walked back to his office feeling his age. He walked with an unhurried pace and carried his cane, but didn't lean on it. Not yet. The days were still few and far between that he needed it to walk in earnest, though his steps were slower than the year before. The hall felt longer, and the day heavier. But he was still up and about.
He opened the door and flicked the lightswitch. The chairs, the lying couch, the carpet underfoot. Bookshelves with well-worn books. Kalie would be by soon, he just needed to gather his keys... Though visiting her siblings had left him feeling hollow, Kalie's energy, her drive, her smile so soon after that sobering reminder had left him light and filled.
Geoffrey sat at his desk, and checked his watch. He had a few minutes until Kalie was free. He leaned back, then, on impulse stood and stepped to the bookshelf.
Geoffrey ran a hand along the spines of a set of larger books- albums. Some of his most treasured possessions.
One he selected. The first pages filled with papers scribbled with a pen that scored them deeply. A splash of angry color here and there, indecipherable as the rest of it was.
The Kalie he remembered had walked in through the door, hands fisted, head bowed as if in anticipation of a blow, with wary, untrusting eyes. When she talked, she boasted, challenged, spat profanitiy like it was a contest- and only the dirtiest mouth could possibly win. He knew what she wanted to do: to knock the stupid man in the stupid tie down a peg. To show him who was boss. To prove herself worthy. To bite before she was bitten. Everything she had been raised to understand.
Geoffrey had read her profile. She had been part of a child street gang for most of her life. By the end of their first session, Kalie threw herself at him with an inarticulate scream, and gave him a black eye.
As time went on, he learned more. How she had triggered near death, bleeding out from a broken bottle shoved into the side of her neck. How she had been beaten as a child. Losing her virginity while drunk, at the age of thirteen, and telling it while she stared at him with a smirk that asked him to give her a reason to punch him.
But under the anger and fear was a young woman rudderless, dissatisfied and desperately looking for a cause and a reason for her life.
He turned a page and they morphed into lines of letters, then to words, as Kalie learned to read and write.
Kalie had learned to read here... Words were followed by basic mathematics.
There were pictures mixed in with the rest, also transforming. First the simple drawings. Stick figures and simple shapes. Then it transformed. Budded and bloomed.
He turned the page and saw himself, first simple sketching, then… then a work of love, painstakingly rendered over days or weeks. A surprise birthday present.
It was the odyssey of a soul. He fell back on remembering...
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"Did you have fun?"
A fist punched the air in triumph, "Hell yeah!" Kalie crowed, "I got to do all sorts of tricks 'an show off my aeorbics!"
"Acrobatics?"
"Yeah, that! Flips and shit."
He clapped her on the shoulder, not as solid as it would be in later years, but still wiry and hard. He remembered her, could see her there- so short, though taller than most her age, still so tall- and thin from many days with less food than a growing child needed.
"I'll try and arrange for another ride-along," He'd said. It was one of the very best days, and Kalie was glowing with success.
The Protectoarate hero that had supervised her for the afternoon was Kiloton. Now, Kiloton was a big man, with heavy armor and an actual cape, one of only a handlful Geoffrey had seen. He had the heroic jaw, and the build, the perfect photogenic smile that meant he ended up in the news far more often than his actual exploits might have merited, the Protectorate loved it when it had a good face to present...
The fact that he had volunteered for the program, however, indicated that there was more to it than the heroic archetype he projected on the news. And somehow he had made a good impression on Kalie... She was actually gushing. "I mean, all he can do is make himself heavy, but he can high-five a satellite!"
Geoffrey made a note to ask how he had managed that...
Kiloton laughed and ruffled her hair, and Geoffrey felt a secret knot in his chest loosen, just a little. Because Kalie smiled back and laughed a little, ducking under Kiloton's hand. Still a little wary, but not actually afraid any more. He said he'd be open to another ride along, and that Kalie had been a model Ward. It was everything Geoffrey had hoped for, and more. Kiloton bid them both a good night and the big lug let himself out.
"Hungry?" Geoffrey asked.
"Oh hell, yes..."
Dinner had come and gone while she had been out. So he had ordered chinese, and a lot of it. It seemed Kalie was always hungry, the odd metabolism her power enforced burning away inside her. He ordered her lo mein and General Cho's chicken, and an extra carton of rice for both. Potstickers and noodles. Enough food for three people, maybe four. He handed her a carton and Kalie began to inhale it. She sat in one of his well-stuffed office chairs, seated with her legs over the back, kicking lazily in the air. Geoffrey watched her get to work with one of the most honest smiles he had ever worn. The memory was warm and peaceful.
Kalie's mood was high, and fey. Lending itself to smiling, though it was fading to something more introspective now. Something thoughtful. She had been taken on a ride-along with a Protectorate hero and she was thinking about the future, uncharacteristically deeply and quietly.
He would find, later, after Kiloton gave his report, that the Protectorate event- one at a home for abused women and children -had affected Feral deeply. Affected Kalie deeply.
Eventually, she was pensive, her spirits low. Low enough, in fact, to send him a doleful look, complete with puffed-up cheeks. Her hair was pulled up behind her head, a big fluffy, puffy ponytail. The beginnings of her great roping braid she was so proud of in later years. Kalie looked at him, frowning in that manner she had as she chewed. Her eyes with those strange, narrow pupils of hers, wide and earnest.
Geoffrey tilted his head. At that angle, she rather resembled a squirrel, with her ponytail flared at the back of her head like a tail. She also had rice stuck to her face, he wondered if she'd notice...
Kalie swallowed, "Some only got pain to give 'cause pain all's they ever got. Why's that what they got? What I got?" Kalie gazed at him with quiet solemnity, earnest, as if to convey what she felt through her face alone.
"Don't you have more than pain now?' He asked in turn.
"...I guess I do."
Geoffrey knew that sometimes she felt so much that it became muddled, and her face went curiously blank instead. This might be one of those times. Too much age on a child's face, though Kalie had never been a child in the usual sense.
(•͈⌔•͈ ﾂ
"Hey."
Geoffrey blinked. Coming back to himself.
He was on the last page. He did not remember turning the pages, perhaps he was finally getting old? Bah, now he was starting to sound like Foster, dropping what he probably thought of as 'subtle' hints that he was past his due date and it was time to retire. Well, Foster had retired, and he'd outlast the next Director too, likely. Foster was his third, after all.
He looked up. Kalie was there, with a duffle bag slung over one arm. Looking at him quizzically and maybe a little exasperated.
"I'm sorry," Geoffrey said, standing, "Are you ready?"
"Hmm?" Kalie leaned in, looking at the album, "Oh. My old stuff..."
"Indeed." He placed the album back it its place of honor.
Kalie looked a little bemused, folding her arms and raiseing an eyebrow. "Hey. I met Auspice."
"Oh?" Geoffrey quirked an eyebrow at the revelation, "What did you find?"
"She was kind of interesting, I guess... Found her in the infirmary with two of her friends, Sadboy and Labyrinth." Kalie said, "They said they were waiting for Burnscar."
"Burnscar? Oh. Yes, I heard." Burnscar, the problem child, was a thin, stringy girl who gave the impression for being terrified of Her own shadow in a room full of people terrified of her. Geoffrey sighed,
"She was using her power to melt some aluminum, attempting to manipulate the heat inside the metal without incinerating it. Some of it started to run and splashed her." Geoffrey frowned, the first day baseline was not where he had anticipated any major hiccups, Glassboom and Burnscar injuring themselves did not bode well, "Fortunately, the burns were minor."
"Hmm."
Kalie tilted her head thoughtfully, "I smelled burnt pork and hair, thought I was going to find out Burnscar burnt someone, not that she got burnt."
"Alchemilla does promote a pessimistic outlook."
Kalie wrinkled her nose, "Never did like the smell here..."
It was likely fortunate that Kalie and Auspice had met as early as they did. He hoped they would be able to play off each other, and that Auspice would find his spirited, beautiful daughter an inspiration- a mentor.
There were few Geoffrey could recommend for the role like Kalie.
Alchemilla was not a place for tender hearts, not a place for hearts easily broken. No. But with all suffering, there was a crucible's fire from which great souls could emerge. It went hand in hand with the mortal experience. All the greatest he had ever touched had endured it, and the experience educated and informed his own actions and fortitude.
Some heroes were ignoble. But the thin street child with cat-eyes and superpowers, the one that saw him as a hero, might have been one of the most unlikely of all. She certainly was his.
"You ready to go, Dad?"
His threw his coat over his shoulders and picked up his breifcase, his cane was in his other hand, "Yes, let's go."
Geoffrey reached out and flicked the light switch, and then closed the door.