Parousia 15.2
"Please."
Amy's voice sounded so, so tired. It made Taylor's chest ache.
She didn't have the right words, right now. Didn't have a way to say how sorry she was for leaving Amy all alone, even if it was necessary. Even if it was temporary. Even if she'd do it again, if they got a do-over.
The convoluted plot to lock the Simurgh away at the cost of her own life and Dinah's freedom may have been the only option she could think of that didn't eventually lead to the end of everything, but that didn't make Amy's suffering any less real. Her tears carved burning paths into Taylor's flesh more effectively than any blade.
I'll find a way to make it up to you.
First, though…
Her city was burning. Metaphorically and literally.
Order of operations. She had to get her house in order.
The hurricane rose again, controlled and condensed under the full moon and Taylor's own expanded understanding of her abilities. Amy finally started to relax against her as she supported her girlfriend's weight in one arm and floated down to the rest of the Hunt waiting on the pavement below.
Within her new awareness of the waking world, Amy was now an ocean all her own. It was breathtaking.
Amy's biokinesis had always been impressive, but this was… something new. Something more. Taylor could feel Amy's power expanding outwards in a massive web of interconnected minds, like the entire city had become part of her. Her power's control and dominion flourished underneath the thin veneer of physical reality, creating a vast network of ethereal, shining light to Taylor's extra-dimensional awareness.
It felt right, in a way. Amy always said that the stars in Taylor's blood were beautiful, and now she could finally see Amy's own galaxy, her otherworldly presence. If every parahuman did have some kind of extra-dimensional guardian angel, Amy's was as gorgeous as it was terrifying.
They floated gently towards the broken parking lot on the evening breeze, thin tendrils following behind them to keep Amy connected to the Heart. The rippling flesh leaked from underneath Amy's robes like solid smoke.
Beautiful, and terrifying. Taylor was so proud of her Vicar.
They landed softly in front of Lisa, Alec, and Brian. The corpses of Cherish, Shatterbird, and Mannequin lay at their feet like a macabre offering.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Even Taylor wasn't sure where to begin.
"You've got some explaining to do," Lisa broke the standoff.
"Yes," Taylor said slowly. She did her best to find the right words. "I'm sorry, for leaving you all in the dark. For a lot of things, actually. It was necessary, to throw off the Simurgh's clairvoyance, but that doesn't make it easier."
"So, what? Not enough Nazis to hunt in heaven?" Alec leaned casually on his cane.
"Something like that," Taylor couldn't help but grin over at him. It was satisfying, to see him come into his own.
One of the doors in the rubble opened, and Rachel stepped through, followed closely by Emily. Taylor felt another piece of herself click back into place.
Her steadfast lieutenant.
Rachel didn't smile, but she didn't need to. Taylor understood. She knew they shared a sense of purpose. Of contentment.
"Welcome back, Boss," Rachel said.
Then she tossed Taylor a bundle of heavy cloth.
Her old coat had been bisected by the Simurgh's sword. This was a more than suitable replacement.
The dull gray jacket was shorter than her previous long coat, only reaching to just above her knees. Instead of the squared shoulders, it had a short cape that wrapped around her shoulders and came halfway down her upper arms, attached under the lapels in the middle. Other than that, it was plain and utilitarian, but Taylor liked it.
Wrapped in the coat was one of her old belts, and a familiar, rune-carved sheath.
"Gotta stop giving away your shit," Rachel grunted. "Had to go digging for that one."
Her Chikage. The blood-soaked blade that killed Oni Lee and Lung. It was imperfect, and inherently violent, but it would do for now.
They must not have recovered her Rakuyo, then. Unfortunate, but not unexpected. She would make a new weapon soon. Something to properly channel her newfound insight.
Not tonight, though.
Taylor gently extricated herself from her girlfriend's grasp and chuckled at Amy's disgruntled expression. The weight of her weapon was comforting, and she reveled in the feeling of her new coat settling over her bare shoulders.
The final item in the bundle caught her eye, and she couldn't help but smile, even though she knew Rachel wouldn't appreciate it.
It was kind of funny that her hat managed to survive an Endbringer attack, especially considering that she herself hadn't.
One little piece of Dinah to hold onto, until she could find a way to bring her back. A reminder, so she wouldn't forget her purpose.
"Put on the hat. We still have work to do."
Taylor put on the hat.
It's good to be back.
"When did you sneak away to go shopping?" Lisa demanded incredulously.
Rachel glanced over at her.
"Last week. Where'd you think I went?" Rachel deadpanned.
Taylor chuckled. The idea of Rachel braving the wilds of an upscale department store for her was almost… cute. She'd never say that out loud, though.
It was time to focus, anyway.
She opened her eyes, and let the waking world around her leak into the edges of her expanded mind. From within, she began to catalog the necessary steps to get her house in order.
The newfound awareness of Flora's insight wasn't seeing in the literal sense, but rather knowing. Not all of the thoughts in her expanded mind were her own. Her knowledge of the surrounding tapestry was far from complete, but Flora's attention could be… directed. Corralled. It wasn't as easy to touch outside of the Dream, and it was easy to get lost, but the paths were getting clearer with practice.
Her Labyrinth was very crowded.
"Lisa. Amy. Drop those bodies in the Workshop for safekeeping and begin the process of evacuating the Labyrinth. Heal those who are at risk of dying before I can rebuild my Workshop," Taylor said. "Brian. See if you can track down Burnscar. Make sure she actually left the city, at least."
Brian nodded and melted away into living darkness without a word. She'd have to take some time to talk to him. He was probably feeling… disenfranchised.
"Rachel, Alec, Emily. Run a perimeter sweep inside the quarantine barrier. The PRT may not be our friends, but they're right that we can't let the Simurgh's victims run rampant. Make sure any breaches are contained on our side."
What else, what else, what else…
"Bonesaw's head won't shut up," Amy muttered.
What?
"Excuse me?" Taylor asked before she could stop herself.
The fleshy side of Amy's living cage peeled back to reveal…
"Why'd you have to go and hurt Jack? We could've had so much fun together. But nooooo, you had to go and ruin it," Bonesaw's head pouted.
The Hunt all stared at the head with varying degrees of shock.
"Okay, I know Tinkers are bullshit, but seriously. What the fuck?" Lisa groaned.
"No swearing!"
A brief murmur to the Beyond called a single silver star to hang in the air between Taylor and what remained of Bonesaw.
With a thought, she could hollow out the bio-tinker's brain and be done with it. This monster might look like a child, but she was still one of the most deranged serial killers in the country.
Despite that, Taylor found herself hesitating.
"You are weak."
Was destroying the last part of this menace weakness, or necessity?
Are we a good person?
Did it really matter?
"Don't."
Taylor looked down at Amy in surprise.
Amy looked just as surprised as she was. Her expression was conflicted.
"Don't," Amy said again. "She might… might be able to help with the Simurgh victims."
That sounded like an excuse, but Taylor wasn't going to argue. She didn't feel good about this, either.
"Okay. Take her to the workshop and keep her contained," Taylor decided. Amy had already proven that she was more than a match for Bonesaw.
Speaking of which…
"How long can you survive like that? Also, how?" Taylor asked.
Bonesaw just stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry.
Rude.
"Whatever. See if you can figure out what makes her tick," Taylor sighed. "You're right, though. She might be useful. If we can work out her… attitude issues."
"I'm a good girl! I don't have issues! Jack said so," Bonesaw insisted.
"Jack's patron was constantly manipulating everyone and everything around him, including you. I felt its presence from the moment I returned to the waking world," Taylor said. "He needed to die, sooner rather than later. For all our sakes."
Bonesaw blinked.
"You can see the passengers?" she asked excitedly.
Fuck. We really can't kill her now.
Taylor desperately wanted to understand the final pieces to the puzzle. She was tired of being lost in the fog, despite Flora's benevolent intentions.
"Only a few, so far. Mine. Jack's. William's," Taylor said. Maybe Amy's, although she didn't say that bit out loud. Confusion radiated from the rest of her Hunt. This really wasn't the right time for this conversation. "We'll talk about it later."
Taylor turned back to Amy. Her tear-stained freckles were as entrancing as ever, and Taylor let herself get lost for the briefest moment.
"You'll be okay, until I get back? I won't take nearly as long, this time. I promise," Taylor said softly.
"You better not," Amy scowled. There wasn't any real heat to it, though. More than anything, Amy just sounded exhausted. "And I managed just fine until now."
Lisa made a choked sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, but they both ignored her.
Amy held Taylor's gaze for a few seconds longer, then sighed.
"Go do your thing, Hunter."
Taylor was tempted to steal another kiss, but it was difficult enough to leave so soon as it was.
Instead, she nodded, and lifted herself off the ground in the grasp of her personal hurricane. Her new coat flared and whipped around her as the light of the silver isle flooded her bones once again.
It was time to cement their Dream, their paradise, so that no one could wrest it from their hands.
The wind coalesced around her, and Taylor shot into the sky with a thunderclap of displaced air.
Multiple rippling anomalies pressed upon the waking world, all slowly converging on one location. Taylor adjusted her trajectory to join them, rocketing west through the moonlit night.
There was just one quick pit stop she had to make along the way.
Taylor landed hard on the roof of a nondescript white van. She had no idea how William managed to get it inside the quarantine zone, but it didn't matter now.
The Siberian was unstoppable in exchange for one key weakness. Its host was still as mortal as anyone else. The black and white woman was just a puppet, a hollow shell.
Taylor hadn't seen it, at first, but the longer they fought, the more the itch in her mind had built. The ultimate truth, that her enemy wasn't actually real. It was just a figment of William Manton's imagination, a futile wish that he'd allowed to run wild.
He and his projection were monsters both. She didn't regret ending either one.
Taylor ripped the roof of the van off, tossing the tortured metal wide on the broken street.
She already knew what she would find inside.
The monster's corpse looked sunken and sad, in death. There was nothing about him to indicate that he was responsible for the cruel and torturous death of thousands.
At the end of the day, the worst monsters were just… people. It was a bit sad.
A single, deep burn marred his chest where Taylor's falling star had pierced his heart, cauterizing the wound even as it destroyed him.
She was definitely taking his blood. There was something about it that sang sweetly to her. It felt different from any other parahuman she'd hunted before. The angled Omega symbol on his right hand probably had something to do with that.
William Manton knew quite a lot about Cauldron. Taylor hadn't gotten everything from her brief peek into his soul, but she'd seen enough. They would get what they deserved, eventually.
First, though…
The Chikage's blade flashed in the night.
Taylor gripped her trophy by its thinning hair. She deposited the rest of the body into the Labyrinth for safekeeping.
It's time to send a message.
Her hurricane thundered again, and Taylor took a moment to breathe deeply in the cool, high-altitude air. Flying was something she'd never take for granted, even if she had to hold her hat on with one hand while she flew. Not the hand holding her trophy, though. That would be a bit gross.
The main PRT encampment just outside the quarantine barrier looked worse for wear. Huge areas were burned and corroded away, pits and valleys of disturbed earth showing the signs of a violent struggle. In the center, a wide arc of scorched earth dominated the wreckage.
There was no sign of Crawler, but Taylor hadn't expected one. The moonlight greatsword didn't leave behind traces. She could still see Assault dissolving on its cursed blade when she closed her eyes.
Taylor landed lightly on the other side of the burned crescent.
Across from her, Armsmaster and Dragon regarded her warily.
"Hunter," Colin's voice sounded metallic under his armor. "You survived, then."
"In a manner of speaking," Taylor grinned. "I had to take a brief sabbatical to make sure the Simurgh was comfortable in her idyllic vacation getaway, but it's good to be home."
"What is the Simurgh's status?" Dragon asked.
Taylor was about to answer when the guests of honor finally decided to join the party.
Alexandria and Eidolon slowed to a stop midair between them, staring down at Taylor. Their expressions were blank and unreadable in their full face helmets. Alexandria's black and grey cape and tower crest contrasted starkly against Eidolon's glowing green and white robes.
"Do not trust the Tower."
The silence was heavy.
Taylor tossed William Manton's severed head at their feet.
"Brockton Bay is closed," Taylor declared coldly. "It belongs to the Hunt, and I will no longer be a pawn in your games. Tell her to turn her Eye elsewhere, and I may not be forced to gouge it out."
"It isn't that simple," Alexandria protested.
"It is now."
Taylor's words echoed with unnatural gravitas, her insight and power etching them into the air between them.
The stars just stared, high overhead.
"What did you do to the Simurgh?" Eidolon demanded.
"I locked her away somewhere without any doors," Taylor said, keeping her stare fixed on Alexandria. The hero's eyes were just visible through the slits in her helmet, one real and one not.
"The Hunters of the Workshop take orders from no one. I'm not your tool, and I'm not your weapon. We are not a means to an end," Taylor continued. Her words demanded attention, and the weight of her insight pressed heavily upon the world. "We will cut down the beasts that seek to prey on the innocent. We'll hunt the many unrepentant monsters of the waking world. I'm content to remain allies of circumstance, if you don't force my hand."
The breeze picked up.
"But… if Cauldron continues along this path…"
The hurricane thundered again, and Taylor rose from the ground to hang before the remaining members of the incomplete Triumvirate. She let her eyes move from Alexandria, to Eidolon, to Colin, and back.
"...I will hunt you, too."
She didn't give them a chance to answer. The wind howled, and Taylor left her heroes behind.
The world was still a harrowing, broken place, but she wouldn't let it break her.
Dinah was gone.
The Simurgh was gone.
If the woman in the fedora wanted to keep trying to pull her strings, Taylor would remove her, too.
None would stand in the way of her Dream.
Taylor hung high in the starry sky over her city, the full moon bright above her. Misty light leaked from within, out from under the brim of her hat and the lapels of her new coat, Flora's gifted power unable to be completely contained by her physical shell.
She was so much more, now.
Maybe it should worry her, how different she'd become. How far she'd strayed from the girl in the locker. The weight of so much spilled blood, the depth of her insight… it had irrevocably changed her. Remade her, reforged her anew, quenched in violence and moonlight.
Was Taylor Hebert dead?
At what point, along the bloodstained journey, had she finally been lost in the fog?
Did it even matter?
Taylor didn't know where she ended, and the First Hunter began. She couldn't quite bring herself to care.
Her hurricane expanded exponentially in the dark, more and more power flooding into her from Flora's presence high overhead. Silver stars cascaded from the Beyond in a grand symphony, a churning ocean of brilliant light that cast stark shadows over every inch of her broken city. A spiraling galaxy, a declaration of her presence. Her power.
When she'd ended the Empire, her light only extended over her Hospital. Now, it dominated the sky of her domain.
Let them see.
Brockton Bay became the eye of a great storm, a high wall of clouds towering over the edges of the quarantine zone on all sides. The gray barrier circled slowly, highlighted against the brilliance of the spiraling stars and shining moon.
Let them know.
Flora's champion walked the earth once more, finally whole and awakened.
Going forward, she would be better.
She would not be weak.
She would stand against the monsters in the dark, a bulwark to hold back the harrowing nightmare.
And she would find a way to create her permanent, infinite Dream.
…
Taylor's Labyrinth was somehow both comforting and terrifying at the same time. The haunted domain held an inherent edge of danger, despite the Vicar's promise.
Emma made her way between the huddled members of the Blood, offering reassurance where she could. The night would end soon. The Hunt would prevail against the Nine. The First Hunter would return to them, and everything would be alright.
The heartbeat continued to echo from the depths of the Hospital, slow and methodical. The pulse was comforting. Emma didn't know what she would do if it ever stopped.
It felt like she'd been in here for a long time, but it couldn't have been more than an hour. It wasn't like they had any good way to tell time, though. The electronics had all run out of charge days ago, and any that remained had been destroyed by Shatterbird's song.
The Messengers overhead started to become agitated. Emma squeezed one of their congregation's hands and stood, watching the Vicar's strange creations move along the living vessels.
Is it time?
She knew it was safer in the Labyrinth, but she also hated not knowing. Hated waiting.
The Vicar's inhuman voice echoed through the infinite halls of Taylor's domain.
"The Slaughterhouse Nine are dead."
A cheer rose through the faithful crowd like a wave, and Emma couldn't help but cheer along with them. She'd never doubted the prowess of the Hunt, but it was still good to hear.
"The First Hunter is risen."
The triumphant cheers became an overwhelming roar, the cacophony bouncing off the walls of the Hospital and ringing in the dim gloom.
"Rejoice, and breathe the free air once more."
Emma almost laughed. The cheering continued, but Emma knew the Vicar was really just saying it was time to get out of her house.
The doors opened, and the hands descended. Emma was getting strangely comfortable being manhandled by Vicar's creations. It wasn't something she'd ever imagined being used to.
She closed her eyes to help with the motion sickness, and was deposited gently on her feet in short order.
The previously flat ground of the empty train depot north of the refugee encampment was now pockmarked with deep gashes and freshly exposed earth. Metal lengths of track jutted upwards, bent and twisted like playdough.
Emma barely noticed. She tipped her face upwards, her mouth falling slack.
The night sky overhead was resplendent. A brilliant galaxy of silver stars spiraled outwards from the full moon, the torn-up field around them illuminated in sparkling, ethereal light. Massive storm clouds circled the outer edge of the starlit sea, gray behemoths on the horizon. Emma just stared, transfixed, along with the thousands of other survivors exiting the Labyrinth.
Then a single speck of shadow caught her eye, silhouetted against the light of the full moon, growing larger as she descended.
Emma's smile was wide. There was a giddy feeling in her chest that couldn't be contained, and it felt like she might burst with the intensity of it.
Taylor's back.
Even hundreds of feet overhead, Emma would know her anywhere. Deep black curls flowed like water from under her hat, familiar, wiry arms outstretched as she declared her dominance for the world to see. Her first friend, her best friend, betrayed and broken and killed, now risen and divine.
Cheers broke out once more, a thunderous chorus of thousands that echoed across the ruined city.
I did that.
On some level, Emma knew she was a monster. She'd done what felt right, what felt necessary at the time, to keep the cracked pieces together when she broke, but that didn't change the horrific reality of her choices.
In the end, though, it didn't matter.
Despite everything she'd done, because of what she'd done, Taylor was strong. Impossibly so. Emma had unintentionally, unknowingly, unwillingly broken her best friend's shackles when she killed her, and released the Hunter within. The apex predator that preyed upon all others.
And she was glorious.
…
Taylor's footsteps seemed almost too loud as she walked through the infinite hallway of her Hospital.
It was still weird, not hearing the metal clang of her prosthesis every other step. She hadn't realized just how accustomed to it she'd become.
The Labyrinth was finally empty. The refugees were relatively safe. They were certainly… enthusiastic. She'd have to ask Amy about the abundance of Hunter's Marks and other apparel. Plus all the cheering. It was nice, but a bit… disingenuous. She was missing something, here.
It could wait until morning, though, along with so many other things.
Taylor stopped in the atrium and stared up at the Heart. Stared at the vacant, living throne that now sat atop it.
Amy had been forced through a gauntlet of her own, since the Simurgh attack. Taylor hadn't realized just how much pressure her absence would put on her girlfriend.
Still, nothing had been broken that couldn't be fixed. At least, she hoped not.
Taylor took a deep, steadying breath, and entered the workshop.
The sight that greeted her was so unexpected that her tenuous composure shattered.
Her glass equipment had been utterly destroyed by Shatterbird's song, leaving nothing but broken remnants all over the lab tables and tile floors. However, the mess was currently in the process of being swept up by a small army of Messengers wielding handheld brooms and dustpans.
It was hilarious, and silly, and somehow made her want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Amy leaned against one of the workbenches, supervising. She hadn't changed out of her Vicar costume yet, but her hood was down now. Chestnut curls framed her freckled face in the candlelight.
She was so beautiful, it made something in Taylor's chest hurt.
She looked up at Taylor's entrance. Her eyes were hard, acid and rusted nails that Taylor hadn't seen since their first conversations on the hospital roof.
They stood in tense silence, staring at each other while the Messengers worked.
Amy was different, yet still exactly the same. Intimidating, but also familiar and comforting. There was a metaphorical distance between them, in addition to physical.
"I'm sorry," Taylor whispered into the quiet. She didn't know what else to say. Didn't know how to fix whatever was broken between them.
"For what?" Amy replied. Her tone was unreadable, and her expression was as conflicted as ever.
"For…" Taylor wasn't even sure, really. "For leaving, even for a while. For breaking my promise, even though I had to. Even though I know you knew what you were asking for, when you sent me to save her. I would have gone anyway, but it still wasn't fair to you, and I-"
"Taylor. Shut up," Amy cut her off.
Taylor shut up.
"I…" Amy didn't seem to be able to find the right words, either. "You're ridiculous. You know that, right?"
Taylor couldn't help but smile. Just a little bit.
"Yeah. You remind me often enough, it's kinda hard to forget," she said.
The Messengers carefully swept a path for Amy through the broken glass, and she padded over across the tile.
Taylor looked down into deep pools of dark chocolate, now only a foot away. Nothing else mattered, by comparison. The silence was heavy, again, but in a different way. She waited for Amy to say whatever was churning behind her eyes.
"I love you," Amy enunciated each syllable with deliberate intensity. "I didn't mean to, but I do. I could have left with Vicky after the attack, but I didn't. I could have let the Hunt fall apart without you, but I didn't. I could have done anything else, gone anywhere else, but. I. Didn't."
Amy took a deep breath of her own. Taylor just stared, transfixed. She couldn't breathe. Her heart beat erratically, the heart Amy made for her.
"When we started this… thing, whatever we are, you were an escape, for me. A distraction," Amy continued. Her eyes bore into Taylor's with a burning intensity Taylor hadn't seen before. Something in Amy had hardened, in her absence. "But, somehow, somewhere along the way, you became my everything, too."
Amy reached up slowly, intentionally, and tangled her fingers in Taylor's hair.
"So I don't care that you're sorry. I don't care what you had to do. You have to get used to the fact that I need you, that I want you, that you're mine, and I'm never, ever letting go."
Then Amy closed the remaining distance between them, yanking down on Taylor's hair to pull herself up into her arms and kiss her. Fire sang in Taylor's veins, burned in her lips under Amy's touch, heat flowing through her skin and lighting up the inside of her closed eyes. Amy was everywhere, her shining power overwhelming Taylor's expanded awareness. Her tongue invaded Taylor's mouth, her lips moving with determined intensity, taking what she wanted even as Taylor eagerly gave it to her. Taylor could feel Amy's power all around her, inside her, permeating the very fabric of the Labyrinth and the city beyond, sinking into her bones and mind and self…
She was everything, and Taylor would never, ever ask for anything more.
The all-consuming kiss broke, but Amy just moved to kissing down the length of her jaw, an electrifying trail of sparks flickering under her skin. Taylor gasped for air and pulled Amy against her, trying to keep some tiny corner of her mind conscious of the fact that Amy was still breakable and she couldn't crush her body into her own with all her strength like she desperately wanted to.
"Mine," Amy said again in between kisses. It would have been kind of funny, if not for the manic intensity in her voice and the burning need dancing in Taylor's veins.
Taylor felt Amy's power pool under the surface of her skin just before Amy bit down hard on the crook of her neck. She hissed at the sudden, unexpected pain and pleasure as her indestructible flesh softened under Amy's biokinesis so that her teeth could leave burning, crimson marks behind. For all Taylor's considerable power, Amy could always change her, twist her, destroy her, unmake her in an instant. It was incredible, it was exciting, and she loved it.
"Yours," Taylor gasped, head falling back and hands running up Amy's back over her robes. She could feel the slightly raised tendrils of the Heart wrapped around her girlfriend's body underneath the fabric. "Yours, yours, all-"
Amy silenced her with another searing, infinite kiss, lifting herself from the floor within the Heart's grasp so she could match Taylor's height, welding their lips together as her hands pulled against the roots of Taylor's hair, demanding more, always more.
It could have been seconds, or minutes, or years later that Amy pulled back and the cool air of the Workshop finally brushed against her lips. Taylor opened her eyes and was briefly lost again in warm chocolate, still just inches away in the dim candlelight.
They both took a moment to catch their breath, silent aside from the panting gasps mingling between their swollen lips and flushed faces.
Finally, after a few more long heartbeats, Taylor smiled.
"So, I've found that everything always seems better when I'm not covered in blood, and the showers are right over-"
Apparently Amy agreed, and was feeling impatient, because Taylor didn't even get a chance to finish before a massive hand snatched her off her feet and dragged her away.
…
"So… do I even want to know where you went flying off to before your whole galaxy display?" Amy asked, lifting her head off Taylor's arm to run her eyes over her girlfriend's face.
The mattress on the floor of the Workshop felt a lot less cold when she wasn't alone.
"Probably not," Taylor smirked down at her. "I may or may not have threatened Cauldron with vague and ominous retribution if they didn't stop mucking about with our future."
Amy just snorted quietly and shook her head. Whatever was going on, Taylor would figure it out. She always did.
"Speaking of filling in the gaps…" Taylor raised an eyebrow. "What was with all the people wearing our mark? Do we have merch now?"
"Oh… um…" Amy wasn't exactly sure what Taylor would think of her hair-brained idea of using religion to keep people in line. "I… may or may not have started a cult that worships you as a demigod."
Taylor froze in shock for a moment before cracking up, her laughter shaking the bed and making Amy smile despite herself.
"I'm sorry, you what?" Taylor finally managed to ask through the giggles.
"I didn't mean to! Really, it was Emma's fault," Amy grumbled.
Taylor choked.
"Em- what?" she exclaimed, laughter cutting off sharply.
Shit. Right, definitely a sensitive subject. Fuck.
"Look, I decided to… have a chat with Emma, when I realized she survived the Simurgh attack, and… well, I decided not to kill her, and she obviously has some kind of obsessive hero-worship thing going on with you, so I told her to convince people you were coming back, so they didn't get too antsy, and… next thing I knew, they were bowing to me and praying and shit, I don't fucking know!" Amy summarized badly.
She glanced over at her girlfriend anxiously, a bit worried about what she'd find.
Taylor was just staring at the ceiling, her face eerily blank.
Shit.
Amy's stomach twisted, and words kept tumbling out of her mouth of their own accord.
"And then I tried to talk to the main preacher guy and it turned out I saved his daughter's life, but then she went and fucking died to the Simurgh, and I was already having a hell of a day, so I branded the Mark onto his forehead and improved him and Lisa's been coordinating all these healing service stations using the blood vial stockpile and Alec is weirdly charismatic when he wants to be and now we have a cult," Amy finished.
Taylor was still frozen. That wasn't good.
It would be fine. Taylor had never gotten mad at her. Never raised her voice. Never hated her. Never told her to leave, never-
"Taylor? Say something, please," Amy's voice sounded broken.
Taylor's eyes flicked down to meet hers, and she suddenly softened with a tired sigh. The knot of anxiety in Amy's gut softened with her, but didn't disappear entirely.
"It's… it's okay, it's fine," Taylor said. "Sorry, just caught me off guard, is all. Emma's just… I'll handle Emma. She's…"
Taylor closed her eyes and let her head fall back again. Amy chewed her bottom lip.
"She's my Victoria," Taylor whispered. "Or at least, she used to be. So just… it's a lot. And I wasn't expecting… Well, it doesn't matter."
"Oh."
Amy wasn't sure what else to say. Didn't know if there was anything else. She hadn't thought of it like that.
She did her best to ignore the automatic flair of burning jealousy. That wasn't fair to Taylor.
Still… maybe she should have killed Emma when she had the chance. For… reasons.
Although, Taylor might not have forgiven her if she'd done that. Amy had no idea what she'd do if Taylor killed Victoria.
Amy knew Taylor was a better person than she would ever be. When the tables had been turned, she hadn't even needed to ask. From the moment Taylor understood how important Victoria was to her, she became her protector, too.
Not killing Emma was the least Amy could do, by comparison.
And… she was making Taylor's suffering about herself. Again. Fantastic girlfriend behavior there, Amy.
She shook off the traitorous thoughts and pressed her face into Taylor's chest.
"Sorry," Amy mumbled. She didn't really know what she was apologizing for, but it felt appropriate.
"It's okay, really. Don't worry," Taylor's cheek rested on the top of her head. "The whole cult thing is hilarious, though. Sounds kinda awkward."
Amy groaned and buried her face deeper. She couldn't help it.
"Oh my God, Taylor, you have no idea. Like, hundreds of fucking people, right? Bowing, and then the preacher guy on stage said something like 'we're all waiting for the full moon so you can finally have your love back' or whatever and it was the most awkward thing that's ever happened to anyone in the history of ever," Amy complained.
Taylor's barely constrained laughter vibrated against her face.
"I'm so, so sorry for your struggles," Taylor choked out in between wheezing laughs.
"None of this would have happened if you hadn't fucking died," Amy grumbled. It didn't occur to her until after she said it that it might be a bit soon for that. She meant that to be a joke.
Luckily, Taylor seemed to get it.
"Sounds like a cop-out to me," Taylor grinned before continuing in a bad parody of Amy's voice. "You don't understand, darling, your absence was so terribly grueling that I simply had to start a cult in your name! And who could blame me?"
"Shut up," Amy said, even though she was laughing, too. Traitor.
"If it makes you feel better, I did get to talk to an actual god while I was dead," Taylor said casually once her laughing fit subsided. "Or, at least, something close. It might be an alien. I'm not sure."
What?
"What?"
Taylor propped herself up on her elbows and Amy rolled back a bit. The tendrils of the Heart wrapped around her body even now, coiling up her legs and around her shoulders to support her. She never allowed it to lose contact completely, anymore.
"So, okay, you remember what Bonesaw said about Passengers, earlier? Wait, where is she, anyway?" Taylor looked around like she expected Bonesaw's disembodied head to be sitting on a shelf somewhere.
"I put her in my lab with the Simurgh victims," Amy answered idly. She was still stuck on the alien god thing.
"The Simurgh victims?" Taylor blinked.
"No, no, you said you talked to God. You are legally obligated to explain first," Amy said.
Taylor snorted, but continued anyway.
"From what I can tell, parahuman abilities are fueled by a connection to something. I don't really know what they are, or if they're really alive, but… I could feel it, while I was in the Dream. It was closer, there, than it is here. I can't know for sure, but I'm guessing that's why they give people powers? People can act directly in the waking world, but it's harder for them, maybe? I don't know," Taylor shrugged.
Amy just stared at her.
"That's… insane. You have to know that sounds insane," Amy said.
"Is it? I mean, powers are bullshit. They make no sense, there's no rhyme or reason, even if we like to pretend otherwise. How does Victoria breathe through her forcefield? Why don't the things Clockblocker freezes fly away into space? Fenja and Menja had the same power, because twins? Even Manton limits are wildly inconsistent," Taylor gestured at her with one hand. "There's no logical reason you can't change yourself. It's all just… arbitrary. It makes a lot more sense if there's something aware causing it. Choosing the effects. And I can see it, Amy. After communing with Flora… I can feel your power, spreading out from you through the Heart and out into the city. It's like your own personal galaxy, and it's so beautiful."
That was just… what? Amy's mind wasn't doing a great job at keeping up. Every new sentence threw her for a loop.
"My power, my actual power, allows me to create and manipulate pocket dimensions through a variety of mediums. That's how I created the Labyrinth, and it's how Dinah and I locked the Simurgh in the Nightmare. But, before any of that… It's how I came back from the dead in the first place. My original death generated a sealed pocket dimension I'm calling the Dream," Taylor explained. "It's where Flora lives. The moon presence. It's the source of my powers in this dimension, the Waking World, and it's the only place I can die permanently. Well, not permanently, I guess. If I'm killed in the Dream, I'll return here one last time, but I'll lose my powers. I'll be cut off from Flora, forever. It'll probably move on and pick a new champion, but I'll never Dream again."
Amy's brain felt like it was overheating. This sounded completely absurd, and yet… Taylor was dead serious.
Ha. Dead.
Maybe she was a bit delirious. It was pretty late, and it had been a hell of a day.
"I don't have the energy to talk about this right now," Amy decided. "You're back, the Simurgh's gone, the Nine are dead, and I'm happy. That's all that matters."
Taylor chuckled and reached out one hand to caress her face, long fingers running lightly over her skin. Amy sighed and leaned into the touch.
"I'm happy, too," Taylor said softly.
Amy leaned in and kissed her again. Not the surging fire from earlier, but just… slow, and soft.
And happy.
As long as she got to keep this, everything else could wait. Aliens, cults, gods, Endbringers, shady government organizations… it could all wait until morning, and hopefully things would make more sense.
Taylor was everything she wanted, and she wouldn't ask for anything more.
…
"Sweet crimes against humanity," Taylor breathed in awe as she walked between the endless rows of occupied beds.
"Look, I didn't have a lot of options, okay?" Amy justified from further down the aisle.
The columns of sedated Simurgh victims just. Kept. Going.
"I mean, I'm definitely not judging, but… damn," Taylor said.
"I'm so proud of my big sister. I'd wipe away a tear if I still had hands," Bonesaw's head said from where she swung at Taylor's waist.
Taylor held the bodiless head up by the hair.
"I thought you still hated us for killing Jack?" Taylor asked.
"Jack isn't dead! I'm gonna put him back together as soon as I figure out how to get out of here," Bonesaw argued petulantly. "Also, lots of siblings hate each other. It's in the Bible and everything."
Taylor stared at Amy over the frustrating head's… head. Amy just shrugged helplessly.
Taylor decided to ignore Bonesaw for a moment. Too much exposure to the crazy tinker was…
Wait. Crazy tinker? Was this how other people felt when they talked to her?
Surely not.
"How many do you have held in here? Also, why?" Taylor asked. She could guess, but she was curious about Amy's thoughts.
"Um… just shy of ten thousand? I slowed down on the experiments when they kept failing. I'm trying to heal them, but… nothing seems to work," Amy sighed. "I took a break after my tests with Alec failed, but I kept gathering any of the Afflicted I could get my hands on. Better sedated in here than eating people out there."
Taylor nodded absentmindedly, allowing her expanded mind to extend outwards into the Labyrinth to get a feel for the true scope of Amy's infinite ICU.
That was… a lot of people. Holy shit. And a lot of bodies. And a lot of…
"That is an absolute metric fuck-ton of blood, Amy."
"Language!" Bonesaw complained. Taylor and Amy both ignored her.
Amy looked a bit sheepish.
"Yeah, I… uh… thought you might want it? When you got back?"
"How…"
"Well, the Simurgh killed a lot of people when she started tossing buildings around. Not to mention the ones the Afflicted got their hands on. Like, a hundred thousand and some change. And I couldn't let the bodies just rot, so I… drained them, and fed the rest to the Heart. Plus… well, I figured that the Afflicted weren't doing anything else with their blood while they're trapped here, so they've been providing… donations," Amy explained.
That was… wow. That was a hell of a thing.
"It's by far the most thoughtful birthday present I've ever gotten," Taylor grinned over at her.
Amy snorted, but she looked relieved underneath.
"I snagged as many of the cape bodies as I could too," Amy continued with more enthusiasm now that she knew Taylor wasn't going to chastise her. "It was a bit rough digging them out of the rubble, and a lot of them didn't have much… left… but I didn't feed them to the Heart, so there's a decent amount of bones and fluids and whatnot in the stockpiles. A few of them hadn't bled out completely, though, so we do have some blood. I've been keeping everything in living stasis containers, so Shatterbird didn't fuck with those."
Taylor frowned at the reminder. She'd have to rebuild her lab equipment from scratch. Almost everything she used had some kind of glass element in it.
Luckily, there were lots of morally dubious medical supply companies in the world, and she wasn't hampered by trivial things like distance or alarm systems anymore.
Taylor exhaled and stared down the infinite rows of gurneys and living life support units.
"I guess we've got our work cut out for us, then," Taylor said.
Never a dull moment, in the Workshop.
But she wouldn't have it any other way.
...