Chapter 3:Chrysalis

Anne Barnes PoV:

Her foot bounced up and down the couch like clockwork, trying in vain to speed up that infernal machination stuck to their wall, ticking away the seconds with a painful lethargy.

"Can you stop? It's getting really annoying." Emma glared from across the room, before returning to the random magazine she had picked up. Clad in an oversized blue bathrobe that still somewhat clung to her in a certain places, she was sprawled lazily onto the other couch, idling without worry as if no life-changing event was about to knock on their door any second now. From the way her eyes were flickering from time to time almost as if to lull her to sleep, she seemed downright bored with the whole waiting. Meanwhile, Anne stood there, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, nervous for something that didn't even have anything directly to do with her!

Unable to stand the indifferent atmosphere that was practically pouring out from her sister, she made her way towards the kitchen, where at least she knew she would find people in a similar mental state with her. She wasn't disappointed. Her mother wasn't anywhere in sight -she was probably busying herself with something or other upstairs- but her father stood there, hovering over a stack of papers like they might pull up and bite him at any point. From the size of the bags under his eyes, she had no doubt he needed to read each paragraph at least twice before it could register in his brain. Next to him was a glass of what was undoubtedly his favourite brandy, sitting untouched on the counter. Whether it had been poured right before or the night prior, she had no idea.

He didn't even take note of her entrance, only raising his head from that hypnotic pattern of legal terms when she loudly closed the fridge door after retrieving the first thing that popped into her vision. Cranberry juice, it appeared. She raised up the carton to her lips and took a good swig, not being in the mood to bother with a glass at the moment.

"How is she?" he asked, though the question came out as more of a mumble due to the gruffness of his voice.

"Same as yesterday, she looks like she can't bring herself to give a shit about anything." Her father gave her a look but otherwise didn't comment on her use of language.

"Don't be too hard on her. What happened to her would be a lot... for anybody. This is just her way of coping with the situation." He shook his head. "I just hope she doesn't retreat too much into herself."

"Yeah..." Anne trailed off. It was a tough pill to swallow, seeing her cheerful, if not a bit bratty sister, acting so distant and cold all of a sudden. More than anything else, it was that change that splashed her like a bucket of cold water. She didn't have the whole picture, she hadn't dared to ask, but the memory of her father's harrowed face had told her more than words ever could. That ache in her chest as all she could do was wrap her arms tightly around her sister and whisper empty assurances in her ears between sobs, it still burned fresh in her memory. She doubted it would ever fade.

"What about Danny? How's he holding up?" she asked him, her desire to change the subject far outpacing her critical thinking skills. Her dad's shoulders slumped even further.

"I want to say better, but that'd be wishful thinking on my part." His hands mindlessly wandered towards the glass of brandy as he downed half of it in one go. "I never imagined I'd ever see him in a worse spot than when Annette passed away, but this..." he wetted his lips, almost forcing himself to carry on. Anne hoped he'd fail. "He had already half-run himself to the ground driving all over town after the Emma situation. Driving your mother to the hospital, fetching some documents, all that. He even got into a shouting match with a couple of PRT agents I heard. Really, I don't know what I would've done without him." He left out a long sight as if he could expel with it all the worries and fatigue plaguing him.

"He found out about the camp while keeping me company, actually. He'd opened the TV; said it was as good a way to distract myself as any. I tried to reassure him, told him Taylor was a smart girl, that she could take care of herself. It was like talking to a wall. Still, he did manage to hang on to himself for a bit. It was when we got to his house and he saw the missed call on the home telephone that pushed him over the edge. Me And Kurt had to wrestle him to the ground to prevent him from getting in his car and driving over there." Now that she got a good look at his face, Anne could see the pale beginning of a nasty bruise forming on the other side of his cheek.

"And now?"

"Lacy's with him, trying to keep him from drinking himself into a comma. I was hoping that I could be there for him, but..." He didn't have to finish. She understood. As much as the Heberts were practically family to them, they still had their own issues to deal with. If 'issues' was even an adequate way to describe it.

If you'd have asked her her stance on superheroes, she probably would have said something along the lines of: "They're cool, I guess." Not that she didn't have respect for the people risking their lives, or that she wouldn't squeal like a diehard fangirl if she ever got to meet, let's say, Alexandria, but for the most part, it was just a part of life that kind of, existed. Its own bubble of the world that would occasionally pierce through her mundane life, but never let its mark on anything. Sometimes a big arrest happened or some villain would pull off a crazy stunt or another, and then that would become the main topic of conversation in her friend group for a couple of days, but in the end, she would step through the doorway into her room and the only thing on her mind would be her overdue assignment on Monday. It was like a routine, a sense of normalcy derived in a world where the normal had become people in spandex flying across the city and shooting lasers out of their eyes. She imagined it was the same for most people as well. So when you wake up one day and realize that the bubble had burst and spilt all of those far-off worries into your life, it's a bit of an eye-opening experience.

The doorbell's ring startled her out of her musing, a sound so familiar that she felt like she was hearing for the first time. From the corner of her eye, she could see her dad in much the same situation, fumbling over himself to get all the scattered tables in order.

"I got it!" Emma called from the other room, the unceremonious sound of a door being opened making the rest of the family all but sprint in its direction.

Anne could hear her father a step behind her and her mother coming down the stairs, likely skipping two steps at a time, but she only had eyes for the costumed figure making their way through their front door. She immediately took notice of Miss Militia's trademark star-spangled bandana, but the other two figures were harder to place. A gladiator with a somewhat tacky golden lion-shaped helmet and a tight red-costumed boy with a silver shield etched across his chest. Both of them most likely Wards, not that she could accurately place their age.

Her sister welcomed them in with a polite, yet carefree smile, the same one would give to an old friend they haven't seen in a while. Discreetly swiping away the sweat gathering on her palms on the hem of her skirt, Anne couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at how self-assured and casual Emma could act. She knew that Assault and Battery had also visited her little sister while in the hospital, but these were still local celebrities who were essentially bending over backwards just for her. It must be a nerve-racking position to be in if nothing else.

"Thank you for having us! You must be Emma, right? It's very nice to meet you!" Miss Millita greeted, the smile in her voice evident despite her masked appearance. "These are Triumph and Aegis, some of our newer Wards recruits."

"It's very lovely to be able to meet you all! Please, make yourselves at home. Would you like to move to the living room? It doesn't feel right to keep our guests standing around." Emma said, guiding them to the specified room. The boys followed her ahead while the Protectorate hero paused to shake hands and exchange pleasantries with her parents. They were probably already acquainted from one of those fancy events her father sometimes pestered her to attend with the rest of the family. Not that she ever went to any, such fancy outings weren't her thing.

"You have a very lovely home, Mrs. and Mr. Barnes!" Miss Millita said as she took her seat on the closest chair to the hastily-cleaned coffee table. She and her parents to the couch on the opposite side, while the two Wards settled to standing around a bit awkwardly further back. Miss Militia politely refused her mother's offer for refreshments, before carrying on: "Again, I am very sorry to bother you in your private time. I would rather we have this conversation at the PRT building, but considering the...nature of the events, we figured it would be more comfortable if we kept it in a familiar environment."

Anne didn't know exactly what she was talking about, but her father evidently did. He nodded slightly, his face tightening a fraction.

"I was assured there would be no repercussions for my daughter, considering the circumstances."

"And there won't." Miss Militia said. "Trigger events are strictly categorised under a special policy concerning the compromised mental state of a new parahuman, since most of them don't tend to be subtle. Of course, the problem arrives after that, when dealing with the fallback of the more public cases. The PRT will do all that it can to mitigate any media outrage, however..."

"The process becomes much smoother if Emma joins the Wards," her dad finished, his glasses slipping a bit due to his furrowed brows.

"Yes," the heroine responded, sounding rather sheepish...no, that word didn't fit the woman at all. Regretful, maybe? "Aside from that, there are multiple benefits to joining the program, from offering resources to helping with adjusting to your new powers and much more. But before any of that, Emma," she turned her head to directly look at her sister, "I want to personally apologize."

"Hm?" Emma asked from her spot on the smaller couch. It sounded less like someone not understanding what she had heard and more like she hadn't paid much attention to the conversation in the first place. Even her posture, not quite lounging around like before but not too far off, didn't exactly convey burning interest. Whether the woman across from her noticed or not, she didn't make any allusions to it.

"We failed you." Miss Millitia spoke, a genuine sense of earnestness and regret clear in her voice, nothing like the friendly, yet firmly business-like manner she had conducted herself so far. Though they didn't say anything, she could practically feel the same genuine remorse coming from the other two heroes in the room. "The role of the Protectorate is to ensure things like that don't happen to you, your family, or any other person in the city. Every day we go out there, hoping that we can make a difference, but we weren't able to help you. I'm sorry, nobody should have to go through what you did."

Emma didn't say anything immediately, looking contemplative in the void before a warm smile rose from her lips. "Thank you! You shouldn't beat yourself up so much over it, though. It's not like you can be anywhere at once. Though that would be quite convenient," she mused.

"Yes, but still..." the heroine stammered, clearly taken aback. "That doesn't mean it excuses the fact that-."

"You were here to talk about me joining the Wards, right? Well, I wouldn't mind joining in, especially if I get to work with wonderful people like yourself!"

"Emma," her father called "I know we discussed this a bit in the hospital, but it's still a big step. You shouldn't rush a decision so fast!"

"It'll be finee." she waved him off. "They're the good guys, after all. Besides, maybe they could help me score some new modelling contracts as a hero. It's not like I can do it anymore without outing myself."

"Why?" The boy in the red spandex asked before he could stop himself, earning an identical pair of displeased glares directed his way.

'It's because she's different' Anne thought to herself, knowing she'd never be able to speak the words out loud. It was the one thing she never wanted to admit to herself, that she continued to make excuses and justifications in her mind that even she didn't believe in. Maybe that was the reason she had unconsciously tried to avoid her in the last few days when normally she would have tried to stick to her like glue. Because the evidence was staring her right in the face.

It wasn't very noticeable at first, but it became increasingly obvious the more you stared. The way auburn of her hair seemed lusher, more vibrant, even in the poor illumination the cloudy weather offered to the room. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen as much as a hair out of place so far, even in the mornings when she had just woken up. Similarly, the green in her eyes became slightly more piercing, her lips just a bit fuller, the shape of her face a tad more well-proportioned. The small imperfections that people just took for granted were nowhere to be seen, even her skin seemed a bit softer and smoother. Like marble, yet warm.

All of those things were undeniably there, but if they had stopped there, she would have managed to ignore them. After all, she had seen Emma in full makeup before, and the way she looked now was pretty much identical. But no, those were just things she had slowly picked up over the last few days. They were minor, almost laughably insignificant, especially when compared to that.

Almost as if reading her thoughts, Emma chose that moment to rise up from her seat. With a bit of flourish, she turned around, slowly unbuckling the cord of her night robe, letting it fall to the floor as a twin pair of wings unravelled themselves, almost as large as she was tall. The back of her simple white shirt had been cut open to allow the thin palish, blue layers to sprout unrestricted from her bare back. Their thin lies seemed to embrace her thin figure as they gently drew their butterfly-like pattern, opened wide to be witnessed in all their captivating charm. The pale cerulean sky slowly lost way to a deep intense navy, with patches of brilliant sapphire sprouting throughout. Those small pools of colour were like watchful eyes bearing no pupils, yet not in the way that they scrutinized you. It was the opposite, they wanted to be observed, for you to lose yourself in their beautifully woven patterns, like a painting whose only meaning had been capturing the true essence of beauty in its pallet. They should have stood at odds with the fiery red of their owner's hair, but that somehow wasn't the case. They complimented each other, an inseparable pair that fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Anne heard a slight gasp from one of the Wards, but she didn't bother to turn to see which one.

They were beautiful. She found them hard to look at.

"See?" Emma said, breaking the spell that had taken over the room before anyone noticed. "As uncomfortable as it feels to keep them covered, I can't exactly walk around on the street like this, can I?"

"Right. Although rare, there are cases in which some physical aspects can be altered due to the acquirement of power. It does not appear to be a full-body change, I'm sure that if you come in for testing, we could manufacture some clothes that would mask the wings without causing you any discomfort." Mis Milliat said. There was a good chance she had been informed about it beforehand, but from the way, her eyes kept drifting off to the sides, it was her first time seeing them in person.

"I'd appreciate that," Emma replied, the wings giving a small flutter, an answer of their own.

"Now, regarding the contract, there are some things that I would like to go over quickly if we are to go through with this." Her father interjected, placing the folder he had been gripping onto the table. It was a perfectly reasonable request, one expected even. Anne couldn't see it as anything but an attempt to revel in familiarity in the hope of some vain control of the situation.

"I am not as familiar with the specifics as our legal team, but if there's anything I could do to help you gain some insight, please go ahead." Miss Militia said. "If you'd like, we could schedule a meeting with the Director this weekend if you want to address your concerns directly to her."

"Couldn't it be done sooner? You must understand that I don't want to keep my daughter's situation uncertain by any means any longer than it's strictly necessary."

"I feel the same way." The woman said. "Unfortunately, the director is currently busy with a situation that had propped up outside the city and that requires her undivided attention."

"The camp?" her mother gasped, bringing her hands to her mouth.

"Yes." Miss Militia cringed. "Between the ongoing investigation and a revised schedule of patrols in ABB territory, everyone has their hands full at the moment. Though I assure you that doesn't make Emma any less of a priority in our eyes."

"I hope that's the case. Well then, I wanted to make sure that here it says-"

Anne tuned out at that moment, her attention focused on Emma, who seemed to have started making some small talk with the Wards next to her. From the looks of it, she was in the middle of trying to convince them to take a seat next to her. More than in the past couple of hours combined, the redhead's indifference grated on her nerves.

Perhaps sensing her expecting look, Emma briefly turned her head over her shoulder, gesturing her to come over with a smile. That was the last drop.

"Excuse me, Miss Militia?" Anne ignored her parents' confused looks and instead asked the question whose inquirer shouldn't have been her. "You mentioned the camp. Is there any news about any survivors? A close friend of ours attended there, is there anything you could tell us?"

The heroine seemed to deflate for a second, before gathering herself to answer the question. Yet there was no mistaking the pity in her voice "I am very sorry to hear that. I have not been assigned there, so I don't have any firsthand information. Still, we promise to keep you informed about any new developments. What was your friend's name."

"Taylor. Taylor Hebert." Finally, it was Emma who spoke this time, an unreadable expression on her face.

"I see. I promise to pass it along to the relevant personnel. I sincerely hope she's alright."

"Yeah. I do too." came the response.

Anne stood up. She was certain she had got a couple of widened eyes directed at her sudden burst of movement, but she didn't give a shit.

"Emma, could you come upstairs for a second? I need you to help me find something." It was all she could do to keep her voice at a level resembling calm.

"Anne," her mother admonished, "whatever you need, I'm sure you can find it by yourself. Now isn't the time for-"

"It's fine mom." Emma assured her. "It shouldn't take too long. Let's go!"

Anne walked up the stairs to her room with mechanical septs, barely waiting for her sister to come in as well before closing the door with as much for as possible without the sound reaching the people in the living room. Then, she finally let the dam break :

"Okay. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Hey! Where did that come from?" Emma asked, confused. "You almost clipped one of my wings you know, be more careful with closing the door-

"Stop it! Stop it with that goddamn attitude of yours. I can't stand it any more!" She bellowed.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"The hell you don't! You act like you don't care about anything that happens around you." Anne took a deep breath. "Look, I know what happened to you was a lot, believe me, it breaks my heart to think of what my little sister had to go through. But that doesn't mean you have to stand around all day looking like none of this has anything to do with you! 'I do too'?! You sound like Taylor just had a bad fall around the house, no that she's missing! She's supposed to be your best friend, why do I have to be the only one to give a damn about her well-being?"

"Shut up!"

Anne's words died in her throat.

Emma hadn't moved from her spot, yet she felt like she wanted to back away until she was pressing against the door. Only that she couldn't move. Not when she was being stared at like that. Emma's face, like a statue devoid of any emotion, faded away. Insignificant. Those beautiful and awful butterfly wings that have weighed so heavily on her mind, might as well not exist. Unimportant.

At that moment, Nothing existed around her except for that pair of eyes, staring at her as if she was naked. No, they stared through her. Or both. Was there anger in them? Sadness? A million different emotions, a single one? She could not tell. Hidden behind them was something primal, something beyond words.

"I don't care?" A voice spoke. Familiar, foreign, it didn't matter. "How dare you! You have no idea, you couldn't possibly even begin to understand how grateful how important Taylor is to me. How grateful I am to her. She is like a sister-no, more than that!" A loving smile is etched on that statue, or perhaps just a trick of the light.

Emma steps closer. A breath is exhaled. She passes by, opening the door. The mirage fades, half-forgotten yet so vivid in her memory. A part of her believes she had imagined it, yet another is still too afraid to even tremble.

"Get it? So stop bothering me about stuff that's not your business," she says, in her normal, mundane voice."Come on, let's go back downstairs."

"R-right," Anne answers. She did not go back downstairs.

AU: If you want to get a better idea of what Emma's wings look like, search blue day moth.

(Also, feel free to let me know if I missed any spelling errors or such)