Had I done enough?

I sat on the bed, focused on listening.

Carol was making sure Wendy was settled for the night. As much as she was suspicious of her relationship with Amy, she was pushing that aside. The girl needed to feel safe, which meant sleeping in Amy's room for the night. Amy would feel better with her within line of sight as well, even if Carol wasn't thinking about that.

The creaking of a floorboard told me that Carol was coming to bed.

Wendy had suffered, and she was going to suffer more before she came to grips with the trauma. Amy would help her, and her family would help her.

Wendy wasn't my daughter. Amy was, and she needed help as well.

Which led back to the question.

Had I done enough?

The answer was no, at least compared to a normal father. They'd be there every day. If they needed an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, advice when they needed it most, or even some discipline when they did something wrong and needed a lesson.

I had failed at that from the beginning.

Some days were better than others. Get up, take the medicine, go about the day. There was enough energy to keep moving, even if it felt like I was always a couple of steps behind everyone else. I was playing catch-up, even with my own family. How was Vicky and Dean's relationship, what had happened at the hospital with Amy, and what details could Carol give me from the office?

Sometimes, it felt easier to just not even try.

It wasn't enough, but I told myself I was trying. On the good days, I was a good father.

At least I thought I was. It seemed like there was a lot I had missed though.

Had I done enough?

The bedroom door opened and Carol stepped in. She'd swapped out of her costume for a set of pajamas a while ago. Letting out a quiet sigh, she walked over to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed. I didn't say anything, just focusing on listening for any other sounds. Some sign of what was going through their heads, of what they were feeling.

Amy had a secret identity.

It wasn't really that surprising. It was almost cliche, a teenager with powers sneaking out to fight crime. If it was because she thought we would tell her no, she couldn't go fight, it would be cliche. I remembered having similar fears after getting my powers when I was young, those first few times out.

That wasn't why she had hidden it though.

She'd hidden it because she was worried about how Carol would react. That Carol would think less of her. I'd been rolling it around in my head since hearing that, and it slowly was starting to make more and more sense. Things that just seemed like quirks had fitted together in a way that painted a bad picture.

"They decided to have one big "slumber party" in Victoria's room." Carol slipped back out of the bathroom. "Victoria's idea. Had to dig the old air mattress out."

"Odds are she's just using it as an excuse to get more info from Amy." She'd been hiding how much Amy hiding it had hurt her, but it had. Hopefully, Wendy being there will help smooth things out.

They didn't need Amy and Victoria mad at each other again.

"Probably." Carol let out a sigh and moved around to her side of the bed. "Hopefully, Wendy will feel well enough to go home tomorrow. Her family has reason to celebrate even more for Christmas."

"She seems like a strong girl." I traced the ridges of my fingers with my thumb. "She can handle Amy's moods, she'll bounce back quickly."

"I suppose you're right." Her face folded in on itself, her brow creasing and her lips pursing.

Neither of us said anything. Carol's expression didn't change as she stared into the distance. It was easy to tell what she was thinking about. She would usually start conversations about the girls. When she knew more about them than me most of the time, it was easier that way.

This was one of the rare times we both learned something at the same time.

"Carol." I started, breaking her from her thoughts. "We need to talk about this."

"What is there to talk about?" She sighed and I blinked.

"... Amy had a secret identity. She was sneaking out of the house. All because…" I trailed off, unsure exactly how to word it.

"Because she thought I'd react negatively." She finished for me. "New Wave will have to meet to figure out how to handle this. Can't make a team decision without Sarah and Niel's input."

"That's not what I'm talking about." I was sure she knew what I meant. Her expression shifted a little, and she looked down at her hands.

"Of course, she'll need some kind of punishment. What she did was stupid." Her fingers tightened into fists. "She could have gotten seriously hurt. Let alone breaking New Wave's values with this… stunt. It can wait until after Christmas though. Once she's gotten over the kidnapping."

"I'm not talking about that either." I shifted a bit, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"What do you want to talk about then Mark?" She finally looked back at me, her expression twisting up. "Amy made a secret identity, got into fights without back-up, worked with a vigilante, broke New Wave's rules, and broke our rules. What else there is to discuss?"

"She's helped stop a mugging and an arson attack, fought Uber and Leet, helped defeat an experienced villain trio, and saved her best friend from being kidnapped." I met Carol's angry stare with a tired one.

Some part of me just wanted to lie down and leave this, handle it in the morning. I couldn't, because come morning, the energy wouldn't be there. So I forced myself on.

"She almost had a panic attack over the idea that Wendy might be kidnapped again." My words had the right effect, as Carol's expression softened a little.

"I let her stay the night here to help her with that." She sighed and put her face into her hands.

"That's good, but…" I rubbed between her shoulders, trying to help her relax. "It's not enough."

"What do you want me to do Mark?" Her hands came up to run through her hair. "Tell her she did a good job for breaking all of our rules, going behind our backs, and putting herself at risk?"

"She gave up her identity to save Wendy." I curled my fingers in and pressed my knuckles into her shoulder blade. "That was the right thing to do."

"That doesn't make up for everything before it." She relaxed a little as my knuckles found the right spot. "What kind of message would it send if I praised her in one sentence, and then punished her in the next?"

"That she's wrong about you."

She tensed up immediately. I hated for saying that. It felt like a low blow. Yet it needed to be said. She kept skirting around the real problem. The point I was trying to make. The fact that Amy had hidden this because of how worried she was about Carol's reaction.

"... She wasn't wrong though." Carol pushed herself up from the bed, away from my hand, to start pacing.

"She's not him." My words got me a glare before she huffed and kept pacing.

"I know that." Her hand came up to press against her temple. "Of course, I know that she's not him. She's his daughter though. I didn't give birth to her. The way she used her power…"

"She's not him." I just repeated myself. "We raised her. If there's a problem, it's our fault for raising her wrong."

"That's what I've been trying to avoid." The hand on her temple rose to tuck some hair behind her ear. "Teach her right, raise her right, try to make sure if there's anything of him in her, it's countered by our ideals."

"She felt like she had to become a hero in secret because of how you'd react."

"She's got a dangerous power, Mark." She spun her hand in a vague motion. "We both know that. Of course, I'd teach her to be careful with it. Her accidentally unleashing a new super weed would be the least of our worries if she was careless with it… Let alone her modifying people."

"She's made swords and armor out of trees, Carol. You've drilled it into her head so much that she was scared of you even knowing she was experimenting." A little bit of anger buoyed me. "She put herself at risk because she was scared of how you'd react to the idea."

"Don't pin this all on me." Carol whirled, her expression angry again. "We both messed up here."

I felt the little spark of anger snuff out as what she meant sank in. Amy might have been scared of how Carol would react, but she never even considered telling me. Never once thought I'd be able to help talk Carol down. The reason why didn't matter, it was just another failure of mine as a father.

I hadn't done enough.

Turning away from Carol, I let myself fall backward into the bed. A few moments passed before there was a rustling of sheets as Carol climbed onto it beside me. One of her hands found mine, squeezing it tight as she slid closer to me.

"I'm sorry." Her voice was quiet as she put her head on my shoulder. "I know you try. I'm trying as well."

I closed my eyes, turned over, and threw an arm around her. It was easier than speaking.

"Half the time I look at her and all I see is Amy. Nothing else, just the introverted, cranky teenage girl we adopted." She squeezed me tight. "More than half the time, even. Sometimes though… I see him. I look at her and all I see is him. When I saw her in that armor, Wendy hugging her, it was like staring into some alternate dimension. Because for a split second, I saw him, as a hero."

"This whole thing has hit way too close to home." She muttered under her breath, and I squeezed her back. "I don't know what to do Mark. This doesn't come naturally to me. I thought what I'd been doing before had been working. We weren't close, but I didn't… I didn't want her to realize this."

"I told Sarah I couldn't be her mother." It was a quiet confession. "I wasn't sure I could be one for Victoria. I was right. I don't think I can be."

The silence was suffocating after she stopped talking. This wasn't the first time she'd done this. Doubted her ability to be a mother. It was the first time I'd considered she might be right. At least for Amy.

Every part of me wanted to let the silence stay, to just go to sleep. That I couldn't help with this. Carol would figure this out far better on her own. How could I help her when I was barely a father?

"You're her mother." I forced myself to speak.

"You see him in her." Even with my eyes closed, I could feel her look at me. "I see you in her. I see so much of you in both of them. She might be his blood, but she's your daughter."

"I've never seen it." She muttered under her breath again. It was something we'd discussed before.

"Carol, her fighting style was a mixture of ours." The thought clicked into my head. "She made bombs like me and makes weapons and shields on the fly like you. Adding her spin with the bow and the armor. Where did she get that from?"

There was a moment of silence, and I forced myself to continue.

"If you see something of him in her, maybe just… look for yourself in her. Or me. Or Sarah. Her mannerisms, her expressions, they're from us. All she got from him was her face and hair."

"She's your daughter, and your daughter was scared to admit that she wanted to do the same thing the rest of us do, because of what you'd think. She didn't try to bring it up to me to see if I could convince you. You're right that we both messed up."

"You're trying. I'm trying… But trying isn't enough."

All that followed was silence.