Vista opened the door to her home, and slipped inside.

It didn't really feel like home any more, not really. Not after… everything.

Her parents didn't love one another. They… Vista, Missy, thought that her parents loved her, but their hatred for one another was… stronger. It was overriding, it was the thing that was always at the front of their minds when they saw one another.

Even when they saw her.

Missy felt like a pawn, one her mother used to hurt her father and her father used to hurt her mother. They'd divorced, but that had just made it worse…

Wasn't it ironic that she'd ended up with a power designed to make space between people? When her home life was something she felt trapped in, something she couldn't get away from.

Mom was downstairs, watching something on TV – too loudly. Dad was upstairs, playing music, also too loudly, and Missy slunk upstairs to lie on her bed and groan.

Was it really asking too much for someone to see her as who she really was? Or even as she tried to be?

After a long moment of thinking about that, Missy sighed. Maybe she wasn't being totally fair… Dennis, Clockblocker, was pretty fun to be around. And the new guy, Browbeat, he had something about him that said… maybe he'd understand.

Or maybe not. Missy hadn't exactly opened up to him yet, and you could never tell until you tried.

She picked up her phone, but then the doorbell chimed.

Both loud-TV and loud-music kept going, and Missy rolled her eyes before getting up and hurrying to the door.

"Biron residence," she said, opening the door, then blinked. "Uh."

"Miss Biron, correct?" asked one of the men outside the door.

There were two men and two women, all wearing anonymous black suits and ties and white buttoned shirts.

"That's me," she replied. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," the man said. "We're going to need to speak to Mr. Sebastian Biron and Ms. Amanda Teufel, as well as yourself. It's a matter of some importance."

"Hold on a moment," she asked, and turned away from the door. "MOM! DAD! It's IMPORTANT!"

The loud music and loud TV continued for a moment, then the TV shut off.

Less than two seconds later, something went thump thump thump on the ceiling, and Missy winced.

The music shut off as well, then Mom came to the door.

"What is it?" she asked, then actually saw the intimidating group in the doorway. "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"It's a matter of Federal importance, Ms. Teufel," one of the women told her. "May we come in?"

"No," Mom replied. "Not until you explain in more detail."

"PRT business," the man said.

Mom hesitated.

"Your IDs?" she asked.

Missy got out her phone and began tapping away, texting someone she knew was going to be on duty at the moment.

Guys at my house, say it's PRT business, she texted Miss Militia. Is that true?

Dad showed up a moment later, and also demanded to know what was going on. That led to Mom saying that she was handling it, since he'd been listening to music, and Dad replied that she'd started it, and the endless back and forth started all over again.

Then, thankfully, Miss Militia got back to her.

It checks out. If they're legitimate, ID numbers should be…

Looking between her phone screen and the IDs being presented – which her parents were ignoring – Missy verified them, one at a time.

"They're on the level," she said, loudly, and pulled the door open.

About two minutes later, four Federal agents were in the sitting room.

Sitting, in two cases, but the combination of Vista's Mom and Dad not wanting to be nearer one another than necessary and the lack of seating space meant that two of the agents were standing.

So was Missy.

"What's this about, then?" Dad asked.

"Mr. Biron, this is a matter of some Federal importance," one of the agents said – Missy had seen his ID, but she'd already lost track of his name.

It might be Matthew.

"So you've said, but you haven't given us any other details," Dad said. "Except that you're with the PRT, so it's probably to do with-"

He stopped, just before actually outing Missy as Vista, on the off-chance that they didn't already know.

"In which case, Mr. Biron, Ms. Teufel, I will cut to the chase," probably-Matthew said. "One of you needs to leave this house. Possibly both."

Missy blinked.

"What?" she asked.

She wasn't the only one to say it, but she was definitely the first.

"On the earliest basis possible, you will each be granted a restraining order against the other," probably-Matthew said, matter-of-factly. "As noted, this is a matter of Federal importance, specifically a matter of Federal importance related to the smooth functioning and mental wellbeing of the cape known as Vista."

He glanced up at her.

"But… a restraining order?" Dad repeated, weakly. "What kind of justification do you have for that? Doesn't someone need to ask before getting one of those?"

"With someone like you, I'm not surprised-" Mom began.

"They said they were going to-"

"Both of you SHUT UP!" Missy demanded, distortions appearing around her hands for a moment before she quelled her power again.

Tears started in her eyes, and she clenched her fists. "Did you even hear what they were saying, or did you only hear the parts you wanted to hear?"

Everyone else in the room was silent, looking at her.

"You hate one another, okay?" she began. "I know that. The judge thought this stupid shared custody thing was a good idea because otherwise you'd tear one another apart and not care about what happened to me, but it hasn't worked. You're still doing it, this house has been renovated a dozen times and whenever it's a handover day like this you just spend all your time trying to make one another angry!"

She slumped a bit. "I don't know if you love me any more, or not. Either of you. But it's obvious that each of you hates the other more than you love me."

There was another several seconds of silence.

"Miss Biron has summarized the situation adequately," probably-Matthew said. "Albeit in blunter terms than I would perhaps prefer."

"But the divorce-" Mom began.

"-was supposed to stop you fighting!" Missy burst in. "You hated one another so much that the police were being called for a year, neither of you were willing to start the divorce because it would mean admitting defeat, or move out of the house because it would mean admitting defeat, or split everything fairly because it would mean admitting defeat – and I don't care if you told yourselves it was because you thought the other one was so awful that you couldn't face leaving me alone with them. That was never the reason."

She folded her arms, blinking away the tears. "So, congratulations. Now you've both lost, because you've pissed off the people I work for and I work for the Feds."

Both her parents seemed lost for words.

"Though, uh… I do have a question," Missy added, glancing at probably-Matthew and his friends. "Why now? Why not, uh, a year ago?"

Probably-Matthew looked a bit embarrassed.

"The Youth Guard saw your time sheet this morning," he said. "One thing led to another. But you seem to be the grown-up here, so do you have any advice?"

Missy thought about it, hard.

"Either make it so neither of them can say anything about the other while I'm with them, in rotating custody," she said. "Or I just go to Aunt Christine. Uncle Joshua is… way too involved with this."

"He is?" probably-Matthew asked, then got nudged by one of the other agents who bent down to whisper in his ear… too quietly to hear, even though all three of the civilians in the room knew anyway.

It was hard to forget that your Mom had slept with your Dad's brother.

"Ah," probably-Matthew said, looking uncomfortable. "Right."

Suddenly, Missy felt like laughing. Hysterically.

She must have the most messed up family you could possibly imagine.

Alec swore loudly.

"Something up?" Lisa asked, looking up from her laptop.

"This complete bastard sniped me!" Alec complained. "I stop for a moment because I sneezed, and he takes me out instantly! Must be using an aim bot or something…"

AN:

May or may not flow on from that Youth Guard one I did earlier.