It was decidedly odd, watching Dr Thatcher interact with Nataliya. I wasn't actually sure just how her sessions with the other girl had differed from mine, before… well… you know. Before. The Nataliya I'd known then was insufferably arrogant, lively, energetic, unapologetically superior and practically demanded attention with everything she said and did, even when I despised her at the beginning.

And then when I eventually realized that in her own way, she was likely even worse than I was at making friends, it became, I dunno, endearing I guess? Especially the way those big green eyes would light up as she taste-tasted our pastry creations, even the bad ones. Or how she laughed. And I couldn't help but admire how she'd been so stubbornly fighting through whatever phobia she must have had concerning Capes just to mend fences with me, as if a 'mere' phobia was something that could be conquered and ground into the dirt with the advance of marching boots and the steel treads of rolling tank columns, with wings of fighters and bombers soaring overhead, billowing flags affixed to troop and ammunition transports snapping in a chilly breeze. Nataliya would be standing in the back of a jeep near the front of the formation with a steely yet confident glare, long blond hair blowing wildly where it emerges from a peaked officer's cap and clad in crisp fatigues with a ribbon-heavy greatcoat thrown almost carelessly around her shoulders like a cape. There'd be a Tchaikovsky-esque military march just barely audible over the thunder of so many boots and engines as this unstoppable tide of Eastern European military might sweeps victoriously across the countryside, with her enemies crushed and driven before her and their loved ones weeping with grief and fear!

…

Uh.

Sorry about that. That would be the opioids talking. My pain medication didn't quite knock me out whenever I took a pill, but my thoughts tended to be a little disorganized for a couple hours every time.

So… yeah. Nataliya's sessions with Dr. Thatcher were odd to witness, in part because my presence was a sure-fire way to get the Russian girl to relax enough to be human and actually properly interact with the doctor, but she became so anxious the moment she could no longer see me that she changed back whenever I tried to leave the room to give them privacy. That meant that I couldn't help but get a good, long, painful look at the jumpy, skittish creature she had become, a girl that flinched at every shadow and jumped at the slightest noise.

I had to remind myself multiple times that this was an improvement compared to the state she'd been in when I'd woken up. It didn't make the anxious and fearful looks that she kept giving me any easier to deal with.

It felt like Dr. Thatcher and Nataliya's session went much longer than mine did. Much of it was just talking, but a lot of it was coaxing Nataliya into practicing various meditation techniques for keeping calm, over and over seemingly every ten minutes or so. I belatedly realize that I'd even seen her do some of those very exercises before, when I thought that she was just zoning out or freezing up.

They also, to my embarrassment, talked a lot and quite frankly about Nataliya's body and how she'd been feeling about her, ah, prominent physical development lately in, umm, places. That led to them touching on physical intimacy and contact, which I found hard to wrap my head around because she certainly didn't seem that physically shy when it came to me, and how her cultural upbringing might be coloring her perceptions of what she expected from herself and others.

That's how I also coincidentally finally learned that she's from Ukraine, not Russia like I'd originally thought. I didn't even know Ukraine was a word, much less a country. It made me think about just how little I knew about her, how little any of our classmates knew about her.

I realized that I've been a pretty shitty friend to her.

"So, this is your friend?" Dad asked with a slightly nervous smile as he watched Nataliya very, very carefully brush my hair with the sort of focus normally reserved for handling babies and painting. I wasn't at first sure just why he seemed a little nervous, until I realized that it had been a long, long time since I'd introduced him to a friend, and that it probably didn't help that she'd been completely unresponsive when I first wanted to introduce him to her. I was also pretty sure that he was a little hungover, yet despite that, he seemed lively, way more than I could remember him being for a long time now.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Hebert," she softly and carefully enunciated, pronouncing our family name as 'Eh-behr' in that curious accent of hers. She couldn't quite meet Dad's eyes and her hands shook a little as she spoke to him, but she didn't stammer. She seemed to show more of her old confidence though as she turned her attention back to running a brush through my hair. I'd brushed her hair earlier for her, after Dr Thatcher left and she managed to stay in human form. It wasn't easy with the use of only one hand given that she had so much hair, but it had been relaxing for both of us.

"It's nice to meet you too, Nataliya. But just so you know, it's Hebert," he carefully corrected, emphasizing the T.

"No it is not," came her quiet but matter-of-fact reply.

Dad blinked and so did I.

"I'm… pretty sure that I know how to pronounce my own name, Nataliya," he wryly said. But Nataliya shook her head.

"Nem-, ah, no, I mean." She paused and I stole a glance out of the corner of my eye and caught a hint of the rosy blush spreading across her cheeks.

"You are of French heritage, yes?" Wait what now? "The name tells me that much. My French needs work, as you Americans say. But I know enough to know that the name is a French name."

Bewildered, I looked to Dad, and amazingly, he looked sheepish and embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his head.

"Actually, I never really thought about it?" he admitted with a laugh. "It's been 'Hebert' since my grandfather, your great-grandfather Taylor, immigrated from France sometime in the 20s, and not exactly legally. He jumped ship basically. Dad always said grandpa was very deliberate about how the Hebert name was supposed to be pronounced, and figured that grandpa might have been a wanted man back in France, but the old man refused to talk about it and got really angry if anyone tried to push him on it." Dad paused, then with a thoughtful look mused out loud, "Always figured that the miserable old bastard was one of those French Apaches of the time and had pissed off the wrong people…"

"Dad!" I squeaked with wide-eyed surprise at the unexpected foul language from him, even as Nataliya leaned forward and blurted out, "You must be joking!" I really, really, really tried to ignore how her chest pressed against the back of my head.

"Uhh? Nataliya, you're… ummm… my head," My face burned as I stammered. Then it burned all the hotter as she leaned back with a squeaked out "Sorry!" as Dad took one look at my face and chuckled.

"Heh. But no, I'm not joking. Great-grandfather Hebert was definitely one of those nasty punks of the time, and didn't much change his ways after coming to Brockton Bay. I'm pretty sure I still have his collection of fighting knives somewhere."

That led to a very bizarre story of how my great-grandparents had met, great-grandma having been an underaged prostitute at the time named Chloe with webbed feet, if I could believe Dad. I wasn't sure that I could, the story was so strange. But it had Nataliya and I both absolutely spellbound and in tears with laughter by the end of it [that story never got old, no matter how many times I heard Dad tell it]. Nataliya in particular laughed until snot came out of her nose, which was funny and gross.

It occurred to me then, that this was a part of my dad that I hadn't seen since Mom died. He'd been getting better ever since my fateful flight out of Brockton Bay, and when I'd woken up in the MTF earlier in the week? He'd hovered over me until I'd fallen back asleep, then had fawned over me even more the next day.

But this? This was the Dad that I'd missed the most. The Dad that made me laugh, that told weird and funny stories and gestured energetically with his hands. That looked alive. It was good that I already had tears in my eyes, because right then, I realized that I'd finally gotten my dad back.

"T-Taylor?" I heard her at the door to my room later that night, as I was trying to sleep.

"Yeah?" She slipped into my room at the sound of my voice, clad in an oversized shirt that barely fit her quasi-mechanical body and holding her book to her chest. "Can we r-read more?" I scooted over as best as I could to give her room as she approached my bed, and she became human again as she crawled up to settle in next to me while I propped myself up on my good arm.

Once we were both comfortably snuggling we started the book over from the very beginning, because Nataliya couldn't remember just when she had become aware again. She insisted on reading herself at first and out loud, which meant she spoke slowly as she very carefully deciphered every word, face cutely scrunched up in concentration and occasionally nibbling her bottom lip every so often. When it was my turn to read I made sure to read out loud just as slowly and precisely as she did, which gave her time to mouth the words to herself and occasionally parrot me if it was something she wasn't sure how to pronounce correctly. I was dimly aware of a nurse peeking in on us once or twice through the night as time passed, but honestly, I wasn't paying much attention to the time.

I think what sticks with me the most from that night was the sight of her slender wrists, and how the skin underneath then flexed as she turned the pages for me. The way she smiled when she made it through an entire paragraph without stumbling over a word. The way a few stray strands of hair clung to her cheek and the corner of her mouth.

I'm not even sure which of us was the first to fall asleep. I just remember one last exhausted yawn, then curling up against Nataliya as she made a soft mewling noise and draped an arm around me, and telling myself that I was only going to rest my eyes for a moment. But it was so nice cuddling with a friend that was soft in just the right places to make a perfect pillow, that even her soft snoring couldn't keep me from drifting off.

The next day, we were both discharged that afternoon. As it turned out, Dr. Thatcher's last couple of sessions with us were largely to determine if we were both mentally at a point where we didn't need to be under direct supervision, but Nataliya would need supervision for a while, which she definitely did not like. I couldn't blame her. If I'd been legally emancipated for as long as she has and was suddenly told that I'd have a babysitter until further notice, I'd have been pissed too. Dad wasn't able to drive me back to our on-base housing, as his truck was currently sitting in an airport parking lot back in Brockton Bay and anyways wanted to get the house tidied up before I got back in the door, but he promised we'd order out and rent a movie. I agreed, on the condition that Nataliya got to tag along to get her out of having to deal immediately with whatever 'supervisor' she was stuck with. I wasn't so sure that it'd be a good idea to let her go back alone to her own housing anyways, even if it was only a couple streets away.

The staff at the MTF let Nataliya push my wheelchair out to the Hummer waiting to drive us. My legs worked fine, but the sutures in my side and my right arm were still pretty tender, and regulations were regulations, especially in the military. I didn't mind much, because it gave Nataliya something to do, and she was already so nervous about leaving the safety of the MTF that she couldn't maintain that calm state of mind that kept her human. Plus, I was still a little loopy from my pain medication even though I'd already been stepped down in dosage.

The shape of Nataliya's quasi-mechanical body was still recognizably hers, as was her face. It was just a body of metals, polymers and plastics now, a body that was very clearly derived from whatever produced my wings, but with a decidedly foreign bent. The armor plating that replaced so much of her skin had given her a broader body, with flight surfaces in either side of her head and along her forearms. Like me, she had wings. But where my wings took the form of a massive singular flying wing that grew out of my back, Nataliya's wings were smaller by default, with two smaller-still pairs of tail fins at her wide hips and lower back that reminded me a lot of the modern twin-tail design seen on a lot of military jets. Unlike me though, she could adjust the size and shape of them every time her wings manifested, though the twin-tail structure at the base of her spine seemed a permanent fixture. That was what actually made her the most self-conscious, given their unfortunate positioning right over her bottom. Luckily they didn't get in the way of Nataliya keeping her shorts firmly in place around her hips, and her twin-tail was small enough to not hinder her sitting down. But that didn't mean that sitting down was exactly comfortable while she was transformed.

Still, she was obviously extremely self-conscious about it, so I tried my best not to stare. That wasn't exactly easy though, since the only clothing that she could even wear out of the hospital in that state was the large set of PT clothes that she was wearing. On her normal body, she would have been swimming in them. As she was now?

Well, umm… let's just say that there was a lot more of her? [And here I thought that you were actually being honest with yourself. I mean c'mon, even I gotta admit that for her age, even when she's like that her rack is absolutely fucking in-] I viciously pinched my left leg as hard as I could, hard enough that I quietly hissed in pain, because damnit, even in my head I was not gonna perv on one of my classmates! [Prude.]

"Ah! I am s-sorry, did I hit a bump?!" Nataliya fretfully stammered out as she tried to decide whether or not to touch me.

"It's just a twinge!" I swiftly lied as I brought my furious blush under control as quickly as I could. "Heh… I guess that's why the doctors don't want me walking around much for a few more days." Nataliya quietly sighed in relief, then bent over to help ease me up onto my feet, with one arm wrapped as firmly as she dared around my hips. Very gingerly and even more mindful of my side I eased into the back of the waiting vehicle, then Nataliya slid in next to me. The instant that she did, the vehicle very noticeably dipped to one side, just a little, and Nataliya proved that even with a face of polymer and plastic that she could still blush quite furiously.

"Sh-shut up Taylor," she said in a very quiet and sheepish voice.

"Hey! It's not your fault that this old junker clearly needs some work done if it can't even handle two teenage girls in the back seat," I said indignantly. "Hmph, it's probably a Gulf War relic or something from the back of the motor pool."

The Airman driving shot me a dirty look before pulling off even as Nataliya quietly giggled. Then her metal fingers very shyly wrapped around my own. I all but crushed her hand in mine, and after a moment, she was squeezing back just as hard. [Oh, that's just so adorable, I could puke.]

Shut up, you.

It didn't take long for the driver to drop us off, and he took off as soon as Nataliya had helped me out of the vehicle and to the sidewalk. Hand in hand, we walked to my front door. For a moment I was surprised to find it unlocked but I guess that that just meant Dad was home.

Then we went in, and for a moment I'd thought someone had broken in and vandalized the place or that Dad had turned into a complete slob because his clothes were strewn everywhere. If this was his idea of what 'tidying up' was supposed to be then I dreaded the condition of our home back in Brockton Bay. Nataliya's grip in my hand reflexively tightened, and we traded looks of confused alarm, because there was a lacy and skimpy-looking pair of panties right in the middle of the floor, and the last I checked, Dad wasn't a cross-dresser… I hoped.

Then we noticed the smell.

Both of our faces scrunched up.

Then we heard something weird, like someone was panting for air, and a soft, strange feminine whine that almost not didn't quite sound like a cry of pain.

Carefully we strode inside, Nataliya practically clinging to my good arm like a remora despite the fact that between the two of us, she'd be the best suited for a fight if anything was about to happen. Hell, she was shivering and her breath was coming hard and fast already. Cautiously, we followed the sound to the kitchen.

…

For an instant, all we could do was gawk and stare, paralyzed with shock. [Oh, shit. Wow. Look at Dad go. I mean, wow. And isn't that your PT instructor? I guess we Heberts got a type when it comes to blondes.]

Eww!

Eww! Eww! Eww! Eww! Eww! Eww!

An instant later we frantically turned right back around and strode right back out the front door. My face was hot enough to cook a steak on, and Nataliya was blushing just as hard.

"Th-th-that was…" she squeaked out.

"My uh… my Dad and…"

"And.. And-and SSgt M-M-Mu.."

"Murphy, y-yeah…"

"She… her leg was up in the air so h-high…"

"Nataliya I really, really don't wanna think abou-"

"And his penis is so-"

"Nataliya!" It was my turn to squeak as I looked at her gobsmacked face with an utterly horrified expression, because I did not need to think about my Dad doing that or seeing him do that ever again. [Gotta admit though, wasn't expecting Dad to be packing that much below the-]

"Not thinking about it!" I semi-hysterically shrieked, which my side did not like.

We very carefully sat down on the front step of the house, me to avoid straining my side and Nataliya to avoid damaging said step with her weight. There was a moment of awkward silence and very deliberately not looking at each other, despite the fact that we were still very tightly holding hands.

It took me a while to notice that the shock of… that… had caused Nataliya to shift completely back to a body of bone and flesh and blood, which left her PT clothes almost literally hanging off of her, completely baring one shoulder and a part of her upper chest. [Knew you'd look sooner or later. Even Stevie Wonder woulda looked.]

I tore my gaze away and my face grew hot again, then a moment later the front door opened behind us. Nataliya flinched at the sound and suddenly the hand in my grip was metal and plastic again.

When it comes to really, really uncomfortable moments, we Heberts have a tried and true method for dealing with them.

We ignore them until they go away or until other moments demand our attention, so on and so forth until years down the line we acknowledge that there had been such a moment at one point, shrug, then move on with our lives. Generally, this process is effectively an unofficial family tradition, one that no doubt has withstood the test of time for decades since my Great-Grandfather's time, at the very least.

SSgt Murphy was not, by appearances, a fan of our grand family tradition, as evidenced by the way she sat all of us down in the living room, including an obviously uncomfortable Nataliya who very clearly would have been pleased to be almost literally anywhere else, but refused to relinquish her grip on my hand to actually flee. I could relate, because I too would have preferred to flee, if I'd been capable of running two steps without cringing in pain.

As such, there was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Dad and I very carefully avoided eye contact. Eventually, he managed to say, "Hey kiddo. It's.. Uhh.. It's good, great really, to see you out of that hospital bed. Yeah."

"Thanks, Dad. Pretty glad to be out myself. Not much of a fan of them anymore."

We shared an awkward laugh as he pretended that he wasn't embarrassed and I pretended not to be horrified and upset and I think a little mad that he was doing anything with someone other than Mom, then we both cringed when SSgt Murphy looked up at the ceiling and loudly groaned. No, it wasn't the kind of groaning from earlier, for which I was immensely grateful, but it was still a glaring reminder that our ability to relate to each other without corny humor was, well, honestly pretty pathetic. [Yep.]

"Really, you two?" she asked us in exasperation. "This is what you do when you have to have a mature conversation? You tiptoe around it and make small talk?"

She sternly eyeballed first Dad, then me.

We both found reasons to look elsewhere, which only made her groan again and shake her head, then she leaned toward and focused her attention on me.

"Cadet Hebert," she began, then she shook her head and softened her tone. "Taylor. Yes, your father and I had sex. It happened, you and Nataliya saw us at what was probably a shockingly intimate moment that neither of you were prepared to see any time soon. There's no point in pretending that it didn't happen." Nataliya fidgeted a little next to me as I felt my entire face burn.

"Am I trying to replace your mother? God no, of course not. I wouldn't dare do that to anyone. Was it enjoyable, yes it was, very much so in fact. Will I have sex with your father again?" She paused to stare at him. Dad turned red all the way to his ears, and she sighed and shook his head. "Despite how silly both of you are being right now? It's very likely that I might if he plays his cards right. He's a very talented, gifted and attentive lover."

Eww!

My face burned hotter and Dad made an odd choking noise, while next to me Nataliya let out a tiny squeak and tried to curl in on herself as she covered her face with her free hand. Or she might have squeaked because I was doing my very best to utterly crush her quasi-artificial hand.

"Do I love your father? No, but I do like him quite a lot and he seems like a fun and interesting fellow, not just someone that's fun to have sex with. Are we in a relationship? Well, not yet, but I wouldn't mind it. But that depends on whether or not he realizes that the option is in fact on the table, and I'm willing to put in the work if he is to see where this goes." Wait what?

"Wait, what?" "What?!" I blurted out, with Nataliya chiming in mere moments later. She promptly blushed when SSgt Murphy glanced her way.

"Girls. Sex is…" she paused, and sighed. "Some people are very casual about sex, such as myself. Some aren't. It depends on the person really, and everyone has different ideas and beliefs, especially where sex is concerned. Ideally, the first time that either of you chooses to have sex with someone no matter what gender they are, it'll be because you're genuinely attracted to them, like them and trust them, and most importantly aren't under the influence of alcohol or something worse. Another person might tell you to save your first time for someone that you love, and that's a sweet and beautiful idea. However I'd prefer that however you two go about experiencing sex for yourselves, you try your best to make sure that you're ready for it and that you enjoy it and don't regret it later, even if you ultimately later decide that being sexually active isn't for you, and that's okay too. Whatever you come to feel about sex won't make you strange or weird or flawed or a pervert, not unless you choose to be."

She stood up and placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Now, I'm well aware that just this one little talk alone likely won't even begin to answer all the questions both of you might have and that I just told you both quite a lot in a very short time. And since unfortunately neither of you have a mother or even a close female relative to talk to about this sort of thing, I want you to know that both of you are not only welcomed but encouraged to come talk to me about sex or even other things for that matter if you have any questions, unless you'd rather discuss it with your therapist, and that's perfectly acceptable too. Alright Taylor? Nataliya?"

"Y-yes ma'am," I managed to squeak out.

"Yes, Staff Sergeant," Nataliya all but whispered a moment later.

She gave both of us a rare and tender smile, a slightly crooked yet oddly sincere one as she patted Nataliya's cheek, and I found myself shyly smiling back. Then I did a slight double-take because I hadn't even noticed Nataliya changing back again, and I'd been holding her hand the entire time. Then she turned towards Dad, who sat paralyzed with bewildered, stunned horror. He looked like someone watching what they'd been absolutely sure would be a horrific head-on collision between two trains racing out of control, only for the trains to actually be on entirely separate tracks and leaving said watcher hopelessly confused by how things had turned out.

"You're welcome Danny," she said before bending over to kiss his cheek. "Cadet Sokolova, why don't you help Taylor get settled in? Then go put on some better fitting clothes, right now you look like you'll spill out of that PT uniform if you so much as cough. Luckily, you and Taylor are close enough in height that she should have something that should fit you well enough, especially with the muscle and weight that she's been putting on." Wait what? What the hell was she talking about? My body had hardly changed at all, though I guess my belly wasn't all that paunchy anymore? "Danny and I are going to have to talk in private, if you girls don't mind. Then we'll see about that movie rental that he promised, and I know some good delivery places nearby when we're all ready to decide what to eat."

Dad woodenly nodded, and SSgt Murphy shook her head and grinned before disappearing into the kitchen. [Huh. Okay, I actually like this Murphy chick a lot more now.]

"Taylor?" the girl next to me squeaked.

"Yeah, Nataliya?"

"W-what… what just happened?"

"I... I don't really know, but… I think the Staff Sergeant just went 'mom' on us."

"Oh." She went quiet for a moment, then softly added, "It feels… nice."

"Yeah… yeah, it does." I found a smile slowly spreading across my face. I let Nataliya help me to my feet, and we started for the stairs when Dad belatedly called out, "Taylor?"

He rose and fidgeted for a moment, looking every bit as awkward as I still felt.

"Your mother… she probably would have told you the same thing just now, more or less." His eyes grew wistful and distant. "She always seemed to know just what to say when it came to this sort of thing."

"Yeah, she did." My eyes grew blurry even as my smile grew wider. "Mom was pretty cool like that."

"Yeah, she was the best," Dad agreed. "I'll… How about you girls head on upstairs, Little Owl? Like Karrin said, she and I probably should go have that talk."

I nodded, then let Nataliya lead me upstairs, and as we walked into my room, she shyly asked me what my mom was like.

So I told her.

I think we were finally friends at that point.

Maybe more.

But still I wondered anyway, and found myself thinking about what Dr. Thatcher had asked me to do. Just what was Nataliya to me?