-ooo-

Recoil

Part 1-3: Oddities

Brockton Bay was in flames. I watched, aghast, as the PRT building toppled and crashed on to its side; I could hear the Wards inside, screaming as the crumbling concrete and steel crushed them to death. The city was devastated from end to end. Behemoth towered over everything, destroying buildings, killing everyone who crossed his path.

Alexandria swooped in to the attack.

No, I told myself. Not Alexandria. I had killed her. Whoever this was, it wasn't Alexandria.

He smashed her to the ground, crushed her underfoot. She didn't rise again.

I had seen this coming. I had known this was to come. I stood on top of Captain's Hill and screamed, I'm a time traveller! I told you what was going to happen! Why didn't anyone listen to me?

My dad was standing beside me. "Sorry, kiddo," he said sadly, "but time travel is impossible. Didn't you know?" He took off his glasses and handed them to me. I took them, uncomprehending, put them on. Seen through them, he was just nineteen or twenty, a younger version of himself.

But what does it mean? I asked.

"What does anything mean?" he asked in return. He raised my chin in his hand; for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But he was just studying my face. "You have a long, lonely road to travel, kiddo," he sad solemnly. "I don't understand it all, but I trust you. Listen to your friends."

And then he was seized from behind by a massive obsidian-clawed hand, and lifted into the air.

Dad! I screamed.

Behemoth, wearing the face of Alan Barnes, leaned close to him. "Sorry, Danny," he said confidentially, "but I've got to protect my daughter." He squeezed, there was a burst of flame, and my father screamed, burst to glowing ash, blew away on the wind.

No! I shouted. Behemoth turned back to me, now looking like Director Tagg. His face twisted with mindless hate as he looked at me.

He took one step toward me, and then Bitch's dogs barrelled into him, knocked him down. He bellowed with rage, exploded them with lightning, and Rachel with them. "Stupid little girl," he said. "This is war." He laughed brutally, then it turned to a chuckle as Mr Gladly adjusted his glasses, eyes tightly shut.

"You have to understand, Taylor," he said earnestly. "I can't see anything. I'm not allowed to. It's for the good of the school."

Then he began to dance a jig. Regent stood there, waving his hands like a conductor. Behemoth-Gladly danced toward him. Regent backed up, waving his hands frantically. The Endbringer danced right over the top of Regent, crushing him like a bug.

Darkness sprang up around Behemoth. He roared, fully the monster again, and lashed out with flame. Grue screamed, burning, his darkness fading. Then it was no more, and nor was he.

Lisa stepped up beside me, hands pressed to her temples. "If I can think hard enough, I can fix everything," she told me. "If I concentrate hard enough, I'll know everything."

So what happens next? I asked her.

She grinned her vulpine grin. "I have no idea," she told me. Then her eyes went wide. "Look out!" she shouted, and shoved me aside.

There was a thunderous boom, and when the dust cleared, she was lying on the ground, pinned at the hips by a massive squared-off piece of rock.

Lisa! I screamed.

She looked more irritated than upset. "Damn," she said. "Happens every time."

I knelt beside her, cradled her head. Don't leave me, I sobbed. Not again.

"Taylor," she said. "Remember. You have to remember."

I'm trying, I told her. I can't. Too much has happened. I'm losing the information.

"So ask Nina," she said. "She can probably help you."

I ... I guess, I said. Okay, I'll do that.

"It's really the only option," she told me. She gave me a weak smile. "Hey," she said. "Kiss before I go?"

I kissed her. Her lips tasted, as I knew they would, of dust and blood.

"Huh," she said. "Nice.". Then she grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard.

-ooo-

Someone was shaking me; I came awake with a start and a gasp. I fumbled for my glasses and had them pushed into my hand. At the same time, I reached for my bugs, to see where I was, what was going on. They didn't respond. I felt fear swell within me; What's happened to my powers?

The glasses weren't my glasses; they corrected my vision imperfectly. But they corrected it enough for me to recognise the face of the woman standing beside my bed, leaning over me with an expression of motherly concern on her face.

Memory connected, and my incipient panic eased off. "Dot?" I asked to be sure. This was my grandmother, still in her late fifties; I could see echoes of my dad in her.

Details fell into place. I had been sent back in time by Phir Sē, to the year nineteen eighty-nine. In the process of travelling back, I had become disconnected from my powers.

But before I had been sent back …

I pushed that memory away. I didn't need to revisit it.

By some strange twist of fate, I had been rescued from the teeth of an October storm by the boy who would grow up to be my own father. As a result, I was sleeping in the spare room of the Hebert family home. But it wasn't my home, and it probably never would be, now.

Dot nodded, and placed a cool hand on my forehead. "You were crying out in your sleep," she said. "Did you have a nightmare? I think you were calling for your father, and someone called Lisa?"

I blinked. The dream was fading rapidly, down to bare details; a scrap here, a flash there. I remembered seeing Grue die in flames, and I had a flash of true memory, his body pressed against mine, the last time we had been together, before I had given myself up. And then the shared moment of peace, of support, in New Delhi, just before everything had gone so horribly wrong.

No. Memories like that would do me no good, either. I needed the memories of what Lisa had told me.

"I … don't recall," I said. I was saying that a lot, these days. I was just glad that in this here and now, no-one had an Armsmaster-style electronic lie detector. That would have made my life a lot harder.

"But it's something, isn't it?" she asked hopefully. "Lisa. A friend? A sister?"

"I think ..." I said slowly. "We might have been friends. Best friends. Almost as close as sisters." I shook my head. "I can't say more than that." I offered her a wan smile.

She took my hand and squeezed it supportively. "Well, it's a start," she said optimistically.

I nodded. "It's definitely something."

She beamed.

-ooo-

Breakfast was not quite as strained an affair as dinner the previous night had been. George, Danny's father, had apparently decided to ignore me in the hopes that I might go away. He was a big man, heavy-set, and prone to anger, and he did not appreciate having an outsider in his home without his express permission.

Dot spoke of the dream she had woken me up from. Danny was interested, but then, he would be. I was an exotic stranger, one that he had personally rescued from a watery grave. And, of course, a girl.

Dot had been kind enough to outfit me in one of her dresses. She was slender, though not quite as bird-thin as she would get in the next fifteen years, so it fitted well enough. So I supposed I looked at least a little feminine as I sat there at the table. Danny obviously thought so; he kept sneaking me covert glances when he thought his father wasn't looking.

Great, I thought as I spooned cereal and ate pancakes. He's got a crush. It felt a little weird; no-one had ever had a crush on me before, with the possible exception of Greg Veder, of whom the less said the better. But I had seen it before, in others, and the signs were unmistakeable.

I liked Danny, quite apart from the fact that he was a younger version of my own Dad. He was brave, kind, and deserved the best. I was excited for him to meet my mother, because I knew that the happiest years had been when they were married. I had to make sure that, no matter what else I changed, I could still make sure they met at the same time and place.

So I was relieved when George rustled his paper and growled at his son, a command to "eat your bloody breakfast and stop making a damn fool of yourself, boy!". Danny, abashed, applied his full attention to his pancakes and cereal thereafter.

"Mrs Hebert," I said brightly in an attempt to break the tension. She raised an eyebrow toward me. "Dot," I amended hastily. "These are lovely pancakes. What recipe do you use?"

Danny's mother immediately smiled and began explaining her pancake-making techniques in detail. I knew them well; Dad and I had made pancakes the same way for years. But I nodded and smiled and asked leading questions, and paid no attention to Danny whatsoever. It wasn't easy, as I did want to give him a sympathetic glance regarding his father's rebuke, but nor did I want to get him in trouble again. And I really didn't want him thinking that I was interested in him.

I was just helping Dot clear away the breakfast things when there was a knock on the door. Danny answered it; I heard him say clearly, "Hello, Ms Veder. How are you today?"

"I'm well, thank you, Danny," she greeted him, then came through into the living room. "Taylor, how are you today?'

I turned and gave her a smile. "I'm feeling much better today, thanks, Ms Veder," I told her.

"Good," she said cheerfully. "You look a lot better. No headaches, no disorientation?"

I shook my head. "I had a dream this morning." Dot would tell her anyway, and it would look strange to hold back.

Nina looked interested. "Oh? Do you remember any of it?"

"Not really," I said. "But Dot says I was calling out for my father, and for someone called Lisa."

"Lisa, huh?" she replied. "Does the name ring a bell?"

I frowned. "Not as such, but the impression I get is of a really close friend. Not a sister."

"Girlfriend?" suggested Nina. Dot snorted as she continued clearing plates. I recalled that she was a little old-fashioned in her views.

I smiled and shook my head. "No, not that close, I don't think. Sorry."

Nina nodded, unembarrassed. "Well," she said. "It's something to go on with, I guess."

"It is," I agreed. "It really is."

"Well, we have a bit to do today," said Nina. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'll just help Dot finish cleaning up here," I said, "and then I'm pretty well good to go."

Dot smiled at me. "It's all right, Taylor. I can manage from here. Thank you for your help, though." She gave me a hug, which I returned.

"Thank you for taking me in, Dot," I replied. "I really appreciate it."

She beamed at me. "You've brought a little excitement into our lives." She leaned close and lowered her voice. "And I think Danny likes you."

I blinked. "I ... but ... your husband ..."

She made a rude noise with her lips. "Oh, you never mind George. If he had his way, the sun would ask his permission to come up each day."

I blinked again. My grandmother had hidden depths. "Right." Great, she's trying to matchmake me with my own dad.

She put her hand on my cheek. "Anyway, you just think about it, all right?"

I nodded and mustered a smile. "I will, Dot. Thanks."

Just then, George came stamping down the stairs, followed by Danny; both were wearing heavy work gear. "We're off, dear," said Danny's father, brushing past me and giving his wife a kiss on the cheek. "See you tonight."

"See you then, dear," Dot replied.

Danny looked at me, and I took pity on him. "See you later, Danny," I told him.

It was as if the sun had come up all over again. "See you later, Taylor," he said, and there was a spring in his step as he went out the door. Dot beamed at me.

-ooo-

Danny's father drove an old Ford pickup, as opposed to the sedan that Dad and I used to get around in. They were just pulling out of the driveway as Nina and I went out to her car, which was parked at the curb.

"So, you and Danny?" she said, as I got in.

I shook my head. "Not hardly," I said.

"Not even just a little bit of appreciation for having saved your life?" she asked teasingly.

"No," I said firmly. Perhaps a little too firmly. Nina looked at me perceptively.

"Something's the matter," she said. "You have a reason. Mind sharing?"

I shook my head. "Not really. It's just that George – Mr Hebert – laid down the law pretty firmly last night. If Danny comes 'sniffing around me' – his words, not mine – then I'm out on my ear. I don't want to get Danny in trouble, and I don't want to burn my bridges, so no matter what I might feel about Danny – or not feel about him, as the case may be," I added quickly, "it's strictly friendship, nothing more."

"Pity," she said reflectively, as she started the car. "Danny's a nice boy. Serious, but nice. You're serious too. I can see you two getting along well. And from the look on his face, I think he's got a bit of a crush on you already."

I sighed. "Yes, he's a nice boy. I do like him, just not in that way. And right now, I have other problems on my plate, as you well know. So can we talk about something else, please?"

She raised an eyebrow at that, quirked half a smile, but dropped the subject.

But somehow, I knew that this was not the last I would hear of it.

-ooo-

Our first stop was an optometrist, where Nina had my eyes checked, and purchased a couple of pairs of glasses in my prescription. I almost chose round lenses, like I always wore, but then I decided to go with rectangular frames. I needed to be a different person. I was Taylor Snow now, not Taylor Hebert. Taylor Snow was going to change the world.

But still, it was a huge relief to be able to see clearly at last. The optometrist noted a little reddening in my eyes, diagnosed mild eyestrain, and gave me a bottle of eyedrops which he said would clear it up.

"Damn," said Nina, as she packed away Danny's glasses for safekeeping. "You look like a different person in those. More serious. More determined."

I nodded. "Thanks," I said. I was more serious, more determined.

"Actually," she said, "I've been meaning to say. You have strange posture."

I glanced at her. "Posture?" I asked.

"You stand … oddly," she explained. "Angular. You don't move much. You don't spend as much time glancing around as other people do. Do you have any idea why?"

I blinked. I did, in part. As Skitter, then as Weaver, I had had my bugs checking out my surroundings at all times. I hadn't needed to look around. It wa a habit I needed to get back into. And I didn't move much, because if I was standing still, I was usually controlling thousands of bugs in dozens of different tasks. So I had gotten out of the habit of moving around, fidgeting.

"Sorry," I lied. "No idea. Maybe it's just a thing, with me."

She tilted her head. "Maybe. It could be a clue, something that will help you find out who you really are." She smiled. "Every little bit helps."

"I can only hope so," I agreed insincerely. "Where are we going next?"

Next, as it turned out, was the doctor.

-ooo-

Nina Veder, as a volunteer EMT, had given me as thorough a checkup as she was able, on the boat. But she was constrained in both her equipment and her training, and so she had booked me in to see a proper medical doctor.

Doctor French was middle-aged, slightly overweight, and apparently a good friend of Nina's. She sat in while he examined me.

The first thing he did was check me for after-effects of the concussion I had suffered. A penlight was shone into each eye, checking for pupil dilation, while he asked me about headaches, nausea, forgetfulness.

"Only the amnesia," I told him. "I can remember everything after that fairly well." He nodded, made notes, went on.

"You have old fractures," he commented, manipulating my wrist. "Old injuries. Do you recall how you got them?"

I shook my head. "Not those ones, no," I said.

The scars on my wrist where Rachel's dog had bitten me, the scar on my forearm that I had gotten during the raid on the Merchants, he noted and went on. But when he found the scarring on my shoulder, he paused.

"This looks almost … medical," he said. "Surgical."

I shrugged with my other shoulder. "Sorry," I said. "I don't recall."

He glanced to Nina. "I'd like to X-ray this, if I could?" he said. "Whatever was done, I'd like to see what the result was."

Nina looked to me. I couldn't think of a viable excuse not to. "Sure," I said. "I guess."

-ooo-

"Well, this is odd," said Doctor French, holding up the X-ray to the light.

"What's odd?" I asked. I already knew the answer, of course.

"You have a plug of metal bonded to the bone in your shoulder joint," he observed. "See, there?"

I looked, as did Nina. It was obvious, when you knew what to look for; a spot of much lighter material. It was all that was left of the dart that Flechette had stuck in my shoulder, back before she had defected to become Parian's lieutenant and lover.

"Metal?" I asked. "What sort of metal?" Aluminum, I thought.

"From the density, something like aluminum, at a guess," said the doctor. "But I'd need a sample to be sure."

"Which would require a surgical procedure in itself," I guessed.

He nodded. "Yes."

"And am I in any danger, if you just leave it there?" I asked.

He shook his head, consideringly. "It looks old, healed. No inflammation. Whatever was done, happened awhile ago."

Not much more than a month ago, I thought. But I had had that treatment from Scapegoat, which had apparently accelerated the healing of the surgical procedure that Brooks had carried out on me.

"That's really weird," I said. "Why would anyone operate on me, just to implant a piece of aluminum in my shoulder?" Because the surgery wasn't to implant it.

"And there you have me," confessed Doctor French.

I worked my shoulder joint. "It doesn't feel any different," I noted.

"It wouldn't," he told me. "If it did, you'd have noticed long before now."

-ooo-

"Well," said Nina, as we drove away. "Another few oddities to add to the list."

"Oddities?" I said.

She looked at me, just a glance, before putting her attention back on the road. "Taylor," she said, "I've seen less scarring on soldiers. You're barely seventeen, and you've either been horribly abused as a child, or you've been in some kind of war zone over the last few years."

War zone, I thought. Yeah, that was Brockton Bay all right.

She took a deep breath. "And I've watched you. Each time he found a new scar, you flinched, ever so slightly. I think you're recalling, consciously or subconsciously, how you got them." Reaching out, she put her hand on my arm. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

I shook my head. "Sorry," I said. I hated to lie to her, but it was the only way to go on. "I got nothing."

She grimaced. "I was afraid you would say something like that. Well, we can keep trying."

She drove on.

I began to wonder if she suspected that I knew what had happened to me, and was just suppressing the memories, or even just refusing to talk about them. Which was, basically, the truth.

Whatever else she was, Nina Veder was not a stupid woman.

"So what next?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Clothes," she said cheerfully, "maketh the woman."

-ooo-

The Lord Street Market, twenty-two years earlier, was a different place. It was more staid, more measured, less frenetic and freewheeling. Each store had its own security, not the Enforcers of the latter day Market and Boardwalk.

It was oddly reminiscent of the shopping expedition that Lisa had dragged me out on, shortly after I had joined the Undersiders. I was less reluctant, less withdrawn, than I had been back then, but still, Nina's enthusiasm daunted me. I wasn't really in the mood for clothes shopping; I wanted to take my time, to window-shop, get my thoughts into shape about where I was going, what I was doing. But she didn't give me a chance to stop or protest.

Before I knew it, I found my arms full of clothes of varying cut and colour, and I was trying them on. Nina had almost as good an eye for what suited me as Lisa had, and it wasn't long before I had several complete outfits sorted out. Even I could see that they worked with me, even with the new image that I was trying to convey.

I also ended up with a purse, a handbag, shoes, sandals and underwear. I was a little surprised at how low the prices were, but then, the economy had been better, twenty-two years ago.

"Are you sure you can afford all this?" I asked; it had to be a large chunk out of her pay.

She grinned at me. "I'll be putting it down as 'work expenses'," she told me. "Besides, you tell me that you don't look and feel better."

I looked down at the new outfit I was wearing; at Nina's insistence, I had changed in the ladies' restroom. It did look good on me; the jeans weren't as tight as the ones Lisa had had me wear, once upon a time, and the top didn't show quite as much belly, but I did like it. And several guys had given me the once-over after I had changed into it.

"Okay, fine," I admitted. "I like it. I just didn't want you thinking I was sponging off of you."

"Look at it this way," she said. "As soon as you're back in the system, I can step back and let the government take care of you. But until that point, it's apparently up to me."

I gave her a hug. "Thanks," I told her. "I appreciate it."

She hugged me back. "Hey," she said. "Just doing my job." Pulling away, she put her hands on my shoulders. "Lunch?" she asked.

"Lunch," I agreed.

-ooo-

We had lunch at an open air café. While we ate, Nina quizzed me on what I knew of current events. I was a little fuzzy on quite a bit of it, having to be careful not to 'remember' things that hadn't happened yet, but we were able to discuss Scion and the superhero phenomenon. Vikare had only died earlier that year, and there were still pictures of him up around the place, bordered in black ribbon. The first superhero to die.

He would not be the last, I knew.

There were the three members of the Triumvirate, of course, the godlike beings that wielded powers so far above mortal man that it was not possible to compare them. Alexandria, Eidolon, and Legend. I knew of them, of course. I knew far more about them than Nina could possibly know at this point in time.

There was also Hero, the first Tinker, with his red and gold powersuit. He had been torn apart by the Siberian when I was five; this was still eleven years in the future. I couldn't help thinking of Kid Win, with the similarly styled armour. He wouldn't even be born for another six or seven years.

Nina was full of speculations about the heroes, enthusiastic about the future. I didn't want to destroy her hopes and dreams, any more than I wanted to out myself by 'knowing' something that I could not possibly know, so I played along. The golden age of superheroes, having only just begun, had already begun to tarnish with the death of Vikare.

It would get a lot darker, in time. Those we had looked up to as heroes, as saviors, would be shown to be monsters. But Nina didn't have to know that, not right then. I would let her enjoy her illusions for a while longer.

Lisa had told me a lot about what was going to happen. But I didn't remember it all. I needed to remember.

"Nina," I said, interrupting a speculation on Legend's love life, and whether he and Alexandria were a couple, "is there any way I can get some sort of therapy to help me … well, remember? Remember those things that I've forgotten?"

She looked at me, pensively. "I might know someone," she said.

-ooo-

"Now, I'm not a fan of this sort of thing," she said as we walked into the office. "But I've seen cases where it's worked. And I trust this guy not to screw things up too badly."

"Well geez, Nina," said the long-haired man behind the desk. "Thanks for the glowing endorsement. Good to see you again." He got up and kissed her on the lips. Then he looked at me. "And who's your friend?"

"Greg," she said. "This is Taylor. She's got a case of retrograde amnesia that we'd like to dig into."

Greg? I thought. But again, he bore no resemblance to the Greg Veder that I knew. Family friend? Boyfriend?I speculated. Maybe Greg is named after him.

"Indeed?" said Greg. "Hysterical or physical trauma?"

"She came off one of the boats in the storm the other night," explained Nina. "Bumped her head pretty bad, got a concussion out of it. Can't remember anything before that point. We're trying to get a lead on who she is."

"Hmm," said Greg. "Might not be possible, in that case. The human mind is a strange, strange place. Hysterical amnesia simply blocks off memories, but they can be retrieved. Physical trauma can literally destroy memories altogether. But we can have a shot at it."

"I've been having dreams," I volunteered. "I called out for my father, and for someone named Lisa."

"Oh," he said, much heartened. "That's good. That's really good. That gives me a handle I can use." He paused. "Has she had an MRI done yet? Just to make sure there's no ongoing brain injury?"

Nina shook her head. "Currently this is all on my dollar, and those things cost an arm and a leg. Plus, there would be a waiting list a mile long. Besides," she added, "she's got a piece of aluminium in her shoulder, bonded to the bone, too close to her head. I don't think it's worth the risk."

"Aluminium?" he asked. "What's a piece of aluminium doing in her shoulder?"

"I have no idea," she said frankly. "But there it is."

"Strange," he said.

"Tell me about it," she agreed feelingly. "So, can you help us?"

"We can only try," he told her, then looked at me. "So, Taylor, how do you feel about being hypnotised?"

"Hypnosis?" I asked. Was this what Lisa, or my subconscious, had intended?

I wasn't a fan of not being in control. Hated it, in fact. Being pushed around, being bullied. Being forced into things.

I didn't know this guy. Nina did, and I sort of trusted her, but that wasn't enough for me to trust him.

Stalemate.

"Uh ... is there any other way?" I asked. "Not that I don't trust you, but ..."

"But you don't trust me, I get it," he said. "Hypnosis is a scary thing to a lot of people. Fear of losing control of your actions."

I thought of Valefor, of Regent. If only you knew. But I said nothing, just nodded.

"Well," he said, "I can assure you, there's no way I can hypnotise you against your will, and nor can I make you do something while under that would go against your morals. But ... if you're simply not at ease with the idea of someone else being involved, I can offer an alternative."

"Which is?" asked Nina.

"Self hypnosis," said Greg. "It's a thing. I sell tapes that talk you through it. You can do it in the comfort of your own home. You basically sit down, get comfortable, put the tape on, and concentrate on what you want out of it while you follow the instructions. When the tape ends, it will bring you out of it. Perfectly safe. I've used it on myself dozens of times."

"So, no subliminal messages telling me to give you all my money?" I asked cautiously. Not that I had any money, but still.

He chuckled. "That's another urban myth. Subliminal messages just don't work like that. In fact, they barely work at all."

"Well," I said, after a moment of thought. "I guess I can give it a shot."

-ooo-

I was alone; I had made sure of that. Greg was in the outer office; Nina was keeping him company. I had locked the door from my side. I was safe as I could make myself.

It was odd. I was still in the chair; I knew I was in the chair. But at the same time, I was floating. My mind was dissociated from my body. I could hear Greg's voice on the tape, far away, talking, giving instructions, telling me to let go, to let myself drift. Behind that, I could hear the soft, repetitive music, soothing my mind.

In the forefront of my brain, I told myself, Remember. I must remember what Lisa told me.

Greg's voice fell silent. The tape rolled on. The soothing music played.

And suddenly, I was no longer in the chair at all.

End of Part 1-3