Chapter Text
Sunday. January 16.
"Fucking- Ditch me with a guy I don't even know. Make me walk home! I didn't even want to go on that godawful date but 'nOoOoOo, YoU nEeD tO gEt OuT mOrE,' she says. Dammit Vicky," I grumble, kicking a pebble into the bushes by our front door.
I slam the door closed behind me, glad to finally be home after the disaster of today. Abandoned by Vicky and Dean because I was 'hitting it off' with my date - a lie that I know Dean knew better than - and then the polo shirt wearing piece of soggy bread ditched me too. I didn't even want to go on the date, and I only agreed because Vicky said it'd be different, promised she wouldn't do this again. But I'm a disgusting idiot and agreed even though I knew she was lying, just so I could make her happy.
At least I got a free meal out of it? Though with so much pain and suffering, can it really be called 'free?' No such thing as a free lunch, the saying goes, and no matter how good the food was, it wasn't worth the cost. I still grab a bag of chips from the cupboard because I'm a fat pig with no self control, then head upstairs to do some homework so today's not a total waste. I'll stop by the hospital later too. Not General though, I was there last night and I've already logged 10 hours there this week thanks to that creepy weirdo girl, and I don’t need the nurses to get even pushier about my sleep schedule. Where the hell does that bitch get off, asking me that? Fuck her, fuck Dean, and fuck that guy whose name I already want to forget.
I try to not linger in the upstairs hallway, but even still I can hear sounds coming from Vicky's bedroom. I saw Dean's car in the driveway, I knew he was here, I just hoped that they weren't-
I slam my bedroom door closed too, and for a moment I can't hear them. They've stopped, and for just those handful of seconds, I can allow my satisfaction to outweigh my guilt. But then they start up again and I hurry to jam headphones over my ears to drown it out with the sound of Sirens. Stupid. Of course they'd keep going.
Of course she wouldn't stop for me.
I crank the music louder, until I can't hear myself think. I pull out my textbooks and just as quickly shove them to the floor. Fuck homework. Fuck being responsible. Fuck making today worth anything. I pull out my paints and unpainted models, and let everything but the music and the detailing fall away.
Half a model - an hour - later, I'm dragged back into the world by a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Vicky floating behind me in a bathrobe and pajama pants. She's grinning bright enough to light up the whole room, and even though her hair is damp she looks like she just stepped out of a magazine. I turn off my music and remove the headphones so I can hear her voice.
"So, how'd it go?" she asks as soon as my ears are clear.
"How'd what go?"
"The date, silly." The way she laughs as she calls me that is thrilling, and I have to suppress a shiver. Fuck, her smile is so... so perfect, the way her plump, moist lips quirk upward, showing just a hint of sparkling white teeth, how it fits her face so perfectly; she deserves to be happy, to be smiling so beautifully all the time, to-
"Amy!" She's waving a hand in front of my face.
"Huh? What?"
She pouts, her full bottom lip poking out so invitingly. I tear away my gaze before I get lost again. "Were you seriously ignoring me?"
"Uh, I might've zoned out?"
"Have you been sleeping alright? You look tired."
"I'm fine. Just, tired."
"You haven't been spending all night healing again, have you? You know you're not supposed to go over 15 hours a week."
"Don't worry, I haven't been healing too much." How could I, when it can never be enough? "What were you saying?"
She rolls her bright blue eyes and her smile return, exasperated now. "I said: how'd it go after you two got some alone time?"
"Oh. It was fine," I say, because that's the quickest way to end this line of questioning.
"Yeah? You think you might see each other again?"
"Maybe." I shrug. Come on, take the hint.
"Just a maybe? I thought you said it went well."
"I said it went fine, okay? Not well." It comes out harsher than I wanted it to, and Vicky's flawless forehead creases in concern. I hate that I can only bring her down like this. Her smile is so beautifully calming, I wish it'd stay. But I don't deserve to see it, not when I can't even go on a normal date with a normal guy without paying attention to her instead. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I just..." I trail off without excuse.
"Did something happen?" Her frown turns to a righteous scowl. "Did he do something?"
"No, I just-- He was a perfect gentleman, just like all the others. Just like Dean. He was fine."
"Is there something wrong with that? You not into 'perfect gentlemen?'"
NO, I want to scream. If I never see another 'gentleman' again it'll be too soon, I want to tell her. Instead I say, "I don't know."
"If that's not your type, that's alright. I can find a different kind of guy next time, just tell me what you like. A brooding bad boy that's sure to piss off Mom? Maybe someone kind of bookish and nerdy? Oh! Or how about a-"
"Can we not do this right now? Please? Just-- Ugh." I don't want to have this conversation again. I don't want to be forced to lie to Vicky's face, but how am I supposed to answer that when the truth would damn me? All she wants to do is make me happy but I can't even be honest with her, my own sister, because I'm a disgusting freak. Why am I like this?
"Aw. Come here, Ames."
Before I can protest (not that I would ever), she's hugging me, arms pressing me against her just right so that my face is in the crook of her neck. Her hair is so soft against my cheek despite the dampness, and her robe is so fluffy. Just like that, the knot of poisonous tension in my chest unwinds. It feels like, finally, things are maybe alright, that even though I’m sick, it doesn’t have to be the end of everything. I wish that every moment could be like this: easy, warm, and safe like only Victoria can provide.
And then I shift to hug her back, my arm brushes against hers, and my stomach drops. I can feel it. I bite my tongue to keep my scream down. Microtears, all along her vaginal canal. Dean. Even when he's gone, he can't help but rub it in my face.
"I just want you to be as happy as I am with Dean, okay Ames? I love you so, so much."
But not enough. She doesn't love me how I love her, and that's almost crueller than if she didn't love me at all. I could make her not love me, rip that bandaid off and push her away so she doesn't have to waste time on me, so she can love people who deserve it. So she can be happy. It'd be so easy, all I'd have to do is tell her the truth for once in my life, show her the real me, and let her hate me like she should.
Or, a dark part of myself whispers, I could make her love me right. Make her love me how I love her. Make her love me more than she's ever loved Dean. Make her obsessed with me. Make me the only thing she can think about, the only thing she wants to think about. Become the center of her world like she is mine. It wouldn't be hard, far from it actually. I wouldn’t have to break anything, not really, just move some stuff around: reroute the neural pathways that hold her love for Dean toward her feelings for me, promote growth in that area, adjust her autonomic hormone system to release dopamine and serotonin when she's reminded of me. In seconds I could have a Victoria who is completely and utterly mine. It'd be so, so easy, just ignore my rules and go all in, damn the consequences for a taste of the fruit.
But making her love me would kill the her that I love.
I make myself push her away before I do what couldn't be undone, and thankfully she lets go. I breathe a sigh of relief at that. I don't know how much longer I could resisted myself. It's not usually that bad, I can usually cut those thoughts off before I start looking into the how. It's never easy, but it almost never feels that close. It feels like it's creeping closer all the time, becoming a more certain inevitability no matter how much I hold back my monster, no matter how many chains and ironclad rules I bind myself in.
"I know you do," I force out. "I love you too," I say, leaving silent the perverted nuance. I can't bear to look at her face, to see if she's smiling or frowning, angry or confused. I don't deserve it, not when I'd just get off on it anyway. Fuck.
"So, painting more Sledgehammers? These new Tiny Nibs?" she asks.
"Yeah." I pick up the figure and paintbrush, and don't correct her on the faction. It'd be an exercise in futility and I don't need more of those. "I need to finish these before Saturday’s tourney.”
“Cool. So why’s this one blue?”
“Huh?” Blue? It’s supposed to be-
“Is it important? Like a named figure or something?”
“Dammit!” I drop it and the brush.
“Ames?”
“I used the wrong color.” An hour of work wasted. Good going, Amy. I snap the blue paint closed and grab the green I should have been using this whole time. Stupid! I’d have to repaint this one anyway, with how messy all the line are, but still, using the wrong paint? I haven’t done that in years! That's amateur shit!
“Oh. Well, I mean, it still looks good. Why not let this one be a lil different?”
"Because, the Terror Nibs are a xenophobic, eusocial, hive species. If this one were a different color, all the rest would have ripped it apart when it was still a grub. It has to be like the rest. If it’s not, then it just doesn’t fit with canon.”
"And that's bad?"
"Yes. If you want to oversimplify the entirety of their species' lore: that's bad."
“Gotcha. Well, I'll leave you to it then. Have fun."
She closes the door behind her. I dip the brush in and drag it across a forelimb but the paint globs onto the thorax because I can't keep my own damn hands from shaking. I drop it again and it bounces to the floor. It doesn’t matter. How the hell can I paint a stupid figurine when I almost just- did something unforgiveable. Something I could never take back. Just because I was bummed out about a bad date. I...
She was right. This can't go on. This isn't sustainable. One of these days, my rules won't be enough, and I'll snap and break everyone around me. I can't do that, can't do that to Vicky. She doesn't deserve to be gutted and hollowed out and forced into whatever sick shape I want her. No one deserves that. I can't let my monster out, not when it would do that to her. I can't.
I grab for my phone and open the PHO app. Blinking at me, same as every day for the last week, is that creepy bitch Owl_Song's mailbox. Still empty.
fuck u, I send. im notdoin this w/o insurance
So soon that she had to have been waiting for this like the voyeuristic stalker she is, she responds. What do you have in mind?
Ugh. She even types like a creep. im not doing this unles si know who exactly im dealing wtih
You want me to unmask to you?
yeah.
Her response to that comes minutes later. I'll only unmask to you. No one else.
no, I send. u think im stupid enough to meet a master alone? im not goin gto let you kidnap me or do anythin w/o wintesses
You don't trust me.
no shit idek who u r
I guess that's fair. Fine, you can bring someone to meet me as a civilian, but you can't tell them about my powers. Is that okay?
I debate telling her to fuck off, that I'll tell whoever I want what I want, but... if I told anyone about her, there'd be pretty much zero chance they'd let her do anything to me. fine. as far as she knows ur just a random student. Wait a second. u r a student, right?
Yes, I'm a student. That's acceptable. We won't be able to discuss things with them there, though.
ik
What?
*I know.
Oh. So how will we talk about it?
dw abt it.
What?
*don't worry about it. fuck u txt like a granmda
I'm doing you a favor.
I laugh. u expect me to believe u dont have ulterior motives? yeah right. im watching u.
I don't! I'm a hero.
uhuh. Then, (thats sarcasm btw)
I wouldn't have approached you if I was a villain. I wouldn't have told you what I could do.
That makes sense, but fuck her anyway.
wahtever. meet me by the fountian b4 school
Okay. I'll be there.
wat will u b wearing?
Why does that matter?
so ik how to spot u
Oh. I'll wear a blue hoodie.
C u then.
I close the messenger. My heart is pounding. I reopen the app and reread the messages, scanning for a trick. I find nothing, even on my third, fourth, fifth reread. Nerves. It has to be nerves.
<3<3 <3
Monday Morning. Still January.
"Behave yourselves," says Carol as we climb out of her car.
"We always do," says Vicky.
When Carol fixes me with a Look, I give her a nod. With no further goodbyes, Carol drives off, leaving us in front of Arcadia high. Few people are here this early, just the staff and a handful of students. It's quiet, cold, and far too early to be up, much less already at school. I sip my coffee, the second and likely not last one today.
"So, why are we here this early?" asks Vicky.
"I told you already. I'm meeting someone."
"Yeah, and I get that; I mean, I really don't because you won't even tell me who you're meeting or why or anything, but I get it. What I don't get, is why I had to get up an hour early and ride with Mom instead of Dean, or why I couldn't just fly you."
"Because you owe me, okay?" I snap.
"Sheesh. Who pissed in your coffee?"
"Vicky just-- Please? Just please be here for me?"
She sighs. "Fiiiine. But only because you're my favorite sister in the whole wide world."
"I'm your only sister," I shoot back with half a smile.
"I know, it's a tight race."
I roll my eyes, then look around for her. Despite the vague description she gave, she's easy to spot; not only is she wearing a blue hoodie and standing by the fountain, but she's staring right at me. Before I can chicken out like I do everything else, I start towards her.
"Are you Owl Song?" I ask.
She nods. "I'm here, just like I said."
I look her up and down, still suspicious. She doesn't look like I imagined, under the mask. Thin, wide lips, big nose, round glasses, long, curly hair: she's a dork incarnate. I might have passed her in the halls for months without noticing her. "So you are."
"And I'm here too!" says Vicky, bright and bubbly. "Hi, I'm Victoria, and you are...?"
The girl stares at Vicky's outstretched hand with obvious suspicion and glances between her and my own face, but eventually takes it in her own to shake.
"Taylor," she introduces herself. "Taylor Hebert."
"So, how do you two know each other?" Vicky asks.
"We don't," Taylor says at the same time I say, "we met last week."
"Uhuh," Vicky says warily.
I cut in before she can press further or Taylor can mess things up more. "What she means, is that we don't know each other that well, because we only met last week. Right?"
"Yeah. That's right," Taylor says.
"See?"
"Okay." Vicky seems to accept that. "So Taylor, you're a sophomore, right?"
"How'd you know that?"
"I think you might share history with my friend Heidi. Third period with Mrs. Wood?"
"Uh. Yeah."
"Cool. She says you really know your stuff, saved her butt in the last presentation. Is history your favorite subject?"
It doesn't take a genius to see Taylor's nervous and uncomfortable with Vicky's friendly probing. It's kind of funny. When she glares at me, I can only barely hold in a laugh. She frowns and answers my sister, "English, actually."
"Oh, nice, that's Amy's favorite too. Is that how you two met or something?"
"Okay, thanks Vicky, we're good," I interject before Taylor lets something slip that she shouldn't. "We've actually got something we need to talk about in private."
Vicky looks at me incredulously, and I have no doubt she'll grill me later, but for now at least she relents. "Okay, I guess I'll go find something else to do. For an hour."
Then she floats away. Damn if she doesn't fit those jeans perfectly. Taylor's glaring at me when I finally look at her again. At least, I think it's a glare. Honestly it's kind of a flat stare, a sort of emotionlessness that can only be hiding a scowl.
"You didn't tell me you were bringing Glory Girl," she accuses.
"And she'll be back as soon as I scream, so don't try anything funny."
"I told you, I'm not going to."
"Then I won't have to scream."
"You messaged me. You don't have to be a jerk about this."
"Oh, I'm sorry, was it your life that got randomly intruded upon by a creepy stalker? Oh wait, no, that's not what happened because you're the creepy stalker who can't mind her own damn business."
She scowls for real now, and it feels like victory until she says, "I was just trying to help, but you obviously don't want it."
She starts to leave and my stomach lurches. "Wait!" She stops but keeps her back to me. "I... You can really- get rid of that?"
She turns back around, frowning. "Maybe. I think so."
"You don't know?"
"I haven't really done anything like this before. I don't really use my-" She stops short and looks around. There aren't many people around, but there are enough that she can't speak plainly. In a quieter voice, she continues, "I don't really do much with it."
...Fuck. I actually believe her.
"Follow me," I say, not waiting for her as I move to a more secluded part of the courtyard. When we're far enough away that I'm reasonably sure no one will hear us - I look up, just to make sure Vicky or - god forbid - Eric isn't lurking - I hold out my hand. She just looks at it. I say, "Give me your hand."
"Why?"
"So I'll know if you lie to me." She takes it. Low muscle definition, poor diet and nutrition, terribly farsighted, stressed, and tired: if not for the telltale nodes squirrelled away in her brain, she'd be a normal high schooler. "So. Let's assume for a second I believe you about wanting to help; how would you do... that?"
"Well, I thought about it a lot over the weekend, and I should be able to-- Okay, so when Victoria's around and you feel your normal love, lust, admiration, and guilt, if I'm nearby and paying attention, I should be able to make you, well, not feel that-- Wait let me finish!"
I close my mouth. Bitch.
She frowns and continues. "You'd still love her, I wouldn't touch that or the admiration, but I should be able to separate the romantic from the familial love, and mute the lust and guilt."
"And that's it?"
"What do you mean?"
Why the hell does that confuse her? I can't believe she's going to make me elaborate. Fucking empaths, so useless at the one thing they're good for. "I mean, do you just need to do it the one time, or...?"
"Oh. It might take a few times? I'm not exactly sure how well my power sticks. First time and all."
"Right. Right. So..." What am I ever trying to say?
"So?"
"So-" I clench her hand tigheter, enough to almost hurt "-if you fuck with anything else, if you do anything other than what we just talked about, I'll make sure all of New Wave tears you to shreds and whatever's left gets tossed in the Birdcage." Adrenaline and cortisol. Good, she's stressed. Scared too. And angry?
"I already told you I wouldn't," she says flatly. If I wasn't feeling her hormones spiking and her body tensing with anger, I'd actually think she's bored. "If you don't believe me, we can just call this whole thing off and-"
"Oh I believe you, now that you know what's waiting for you if you step out of line."
I wait for her to snap back at me, but she doesn't. She doesn't say or do anything really, just stands there holding my hand and being mad. I try to keep up the glare, but it gets to be unnerving after the first fifteen seconds or so. I let go and look around, but she just keeps staring at me like some sort of... thing that stands around and stares at people. When it's more than clear she either has nothing to say, or is unwillling to say it, I ask,
"So how are we doing this?"
"You and Victoria only have lunch and chemistry together," she says, flat as before, as if nothing's happened. It's like she practices being creepy. "I'll do what I said then, but try to avoid her otherwise. I'll try to keep an eye out between classes, but I can't promise anything; I have class too, after all."
I just barely hold back a jab about her being shitty at stalking. I shouldn't push her too far, not when she's so close to snapping.
...Unless that's her power at work, making me reluctant to call her out. Dammit, what'd Vicky say the protocol is when dealing with these master situations? When your emotions are compromised, rely on... something that isn't emotions? Shit, I can't remember. Calm down, I don't even know for sure that I've been compromised; I don't know what her power feels like, so I don't have a baseline. Baselines are important. Need a baseline to measure against any changes.
"Are you alright?" she asks.
"Use your power on me!" I hiss. I need to know what it feels like. So I can watch out for it.
"Uh."
Suddenly, I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Air doesn't make it past the tightness in my chest no matter how hard I try to suck it in. The world starts to blur as it loses all sense. It feels like everything is bad, and it won't get better. The world has ended and taken everything from me and left me my life just so I have to experience the Absence without respite.
And then it's gone. I suck down air and rub the tears from my eyes to glare at the jerk who just forced that on me. "What the fuck did you just do?!"
"I did what you told me to!" she snarls. The first time she's shown anger today.
"Yeah to make me feel something, not- not-- What even was that?"
"It was just betrayal and loss, with some confusion and regret for cohesion."
"Why was that your first choice?!"
"Would you keep it down? People are starting to stare at us."
I suck in a deep breath, then another. "That was fucking awful, I'm going to class. Just. Keep up your end of the deal and I won't..." Won't what? "Bye."
I drain the rest of my lukewarm coffee as I head for the school building. She's not subtle. The feeling was powerful, but not sneaky in the slightest. That's good. Really good. I don't have to worry about her influencing me without me knowing. There's no way she can twist me into some kind of brainwashed slave, not with intense feelings like that. Brute force, no finesse. It's... a relief. Yeah.
Fuck her.
<3<3 <3
When lunch comes around, my nerves are at an all time high. I kept away from Vicky like Taylor said, even carrying my books with me to avoid needing to go to my locker next to hers, so this is the first time I'll have seen her since hashing out the plan with Taylor.
"She had better come through on this," I mutter, crossing into the cafeteria.
After I've grabbed food from the line, I make my way over to my and Vicky's table to wait for her and her friends to come too.
Allison's the next one there. She sits across from me and says hey, and I say hi back. Then she asks me about an algebra quiz I took in first period - she has the same class after lunch - and we get to talking.
"Hey Ames," says Vicky as she sits beside me.
"Hey." I turn back to Allison to finish telling her about the overrepresentation of the quadratic formula in the quiz, but freeze. Vicky's here. She's here and all I said was 'hey'? I look back at her and-
And my heart doesn't skip a beat for once. She's my sister. A regular girl. Well, not regular, not by a long shot, never, but she's... lesser now? That doesn't feel like the right word either, but it's like she's not quite as magnetic. She's normal. She's still beautiful in a way no one else I've met is, but has she always had that bit of a pimple on her nostril? I try to think back on whether that little flaw was there this morning, and it must have been but I don't remember seeing it.
Is this Taylor at work? She said she'd get rid of the romance and lust; is this what that feels like? Is this how I'd see Victoria if I weren't normally such a depraved freak? She's my sister, and she's always been there for me, from the start, and I love her more than anything else, but that's all she is.
Like, she's still hot, objectively speaking, but it's not doing anything for me. Her hair is still gorgeous, and her breasts are still perky and well-sized, but it feels weird to even glance at her breasts. A different weird than normal. Usually when I look I have to kick myself for perving but now it doesn't even feel like perving, just noting that my sister has nice breasts, and it feels weird in a bad way even admitting that.
I make myself think about kissing Vicky, and it's weird! It makes me feel weird in a bad way that's different than the normal bad weird! I think about her holding me close and it doesn't do anything for me at all! It feels uncomfortable, even! This is amazing!
Though, despite the euphoria of the loss, it... kind of stings. This is a goodbye to an - admittedly shitty - part of my life. Today was the last day I'll have felt the epic highs and lows of loving Victoria That Way. It's for the best. It is. Already, I can feel a knot of anxiety loosen deep in my chest. Is this what my patients meant when I healed them of old aches? This feeling of novel wonder at my own self?
"Everything okay?" asks Vicky and I have to hold back the relieved laughter that I don't have to lie this time.
"I think so, yeah." I turn back to Allison. For once, I'd rather talk about a math quiz than stare at my sister.
<3 <3 <3
I'm practically walking on sunshine and farting rainbows for the rest of the day, even through my shift at Anders Memorial. The nurses wouldn't shut up about my good mood, teasing and asking about what makes today such a good day, and it wasn't even hard to not tell them to shut up for once because today is a good day! If every day could be like today, I think I could finally be content. Well. Not content, but at least mostly happy despite the endless horde of the sick and dying I fail everyday.
Hell, even though there are more patients that I could be helping inside, I don't even feel too bad about waiting on the roof for my ride. The doctors can handle the non-life-threatening cases today. I feel like celebrating. Go home, paint the rest of my Terror Nibs, and refine the strategy that will let me annihilate those nerds this weekend.
"You ready to go?" asks Vicky.
I turn around and my heart skips a beat. She's all but glowing in the late-afternoon sun, haloed in her white and gold costume, and I can't believe that such a gorgeous smile could be for me.
My eyes start to sting. "Dang it."
"What was that?"
"Nothing. Let's just go home?" Please don't comment on my scratchy voice, please please please.
"Did something happen? You sound kind of..."
Why does she have to care so much about me? I don't deserve it but she keeps giving me so much care and attention and I soak it up like a moldy sponge. Well. It was nice while it lasted, being a little bit less of a monster.
"It's nothing important, there was just a kid with a concussion and his dad got mad I couldn't fix it," I lie. "Hope your shift went better than mine?"
Her frown evaporates and she picks me up and tells me about her patrol on the flight home. She's always so happy to talk about her heroing, feeling so strongly about justice and righteousness. Just another thing that makes her so perfectly her.
When we get home, I'll be having words with Taylor about her stupid plan and useless power, but for now I bury my face in my sister's shoulder and pray she doesn't notice the wetness.
<3<3
That Friday.
"And you're sure it'll work this time?" I ask.
"I'm sure," Taylor answers.
"Really actually definitely sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
"You've said that three times this week now and it's getting old."
"I know, but this time I'm basing it on Pavlov's Theory of Classical Conditioning, so we've got science backing us up."
I stare at her like she's an idiot. Which is easy considering her track record of idiocy. "Are you telling me you haven't opened a book until today? Why the hell didn't you think to do that earlier?"
"You didn't either."
"It's not my power! I studied so many biology and biochem books when I triggered and you didn't even think to crack open a psych 101 book until now?"
"I wasn't trying to train someone like a dog until now."
A huff of affronted laughter escapes. "Oh you are such a bitch, you know that?"
"That makes two of us."
My jaw snaps closed with a click.
"Just. Fucking do it already," I force out through grit teeth.
"Um. About that." She's got a bit of red on her cheeks, and it's not even cold out right now.
I already know I'm not going to like whatever she's about to say but still I ask, "What."
"So. Because it's based on positive feelings and associations, it's not so much getting rid of your feelings for her as it is... redirecting them. Onto someone else."
"You're fucking kidding me."
I let my head thump against the brick wall housing the stairs down from the roof. It's last period, and technically we're both ditching, but Taylor has study hall right now, and I can't handle class after feeling like utter shit in chemistry with Vicky. What a fucking disaster today's idea was: make me feel horrible around Vicky so I wouldn't have a crush on her. Like I didn't already feel awful all the time around her. The only saving grace was that I felt too shitty to force anything down at lunch, so the nausea didn't have anything to work with.
"I know. It's barely even a fix. But, I figure it gives us time to figure something else out later?"
I turn to look at Taylor. Her hair covers her face from this angle, where she's looking at the edge of the roof. I can't tell what she's thinking, so I take her hand and- yep. Just as expected: her face is set in a scowl behind her hair, and the microflexes of muscles in her face feel like guilt, or maybe even shame? Creepy and standoffish as she may be, she has been trying to help, and her failures this last week have hit her almost as bad as they've hit me. Well. Like 40% as bad. She's not the one whose life and brain are getting played with, but when we touch like this, I can feel the stress that's been building up in her system. She genuinely does feel bad about getting this wrong and being unable to help me immediately. I know she feels good using her powers, but that's a standard amongst parahumans, and I can tell there's no amusement or sick joy at fucking this up.
"So," I start, "you'd be moving my crush onto someone else."
She nods. "If it works, which it should, then when you're exposed to the triggers that would normally make you love Victoria, I would direct those feelings onto the other person, and after a while you'd start to feel that way even without my power. Of course, to keep it all making sense to your subconscious, I'd need to make you love that person outside of the Victoria-stimuli too."
"Who do you have in mind?"
"That's the thing: I can't think of anyone. They would need to spend time around you and Victoria - and me, since I need to be nearby to do it - and ideally you and they would get along and be willing to spend time alone together independent of me. Worst case scenario, I could make you tolerate or even like them no matter what, but honestly it's safer if I try to touch as little as possible. But I just can't think of anyone you spend any significant amount of time with."
I can feel her stress levels peaking, the frustrated tensing of muscles and disappointed downturn of her eyes. It's so easy to read her like this, with my power. She really does want to help, so much so that she's tearing herself up inside over not having a complete solution packaged and ready to go. It's relieving. If she didn't care, or if this was somehow fun for her, I'd sooner lobotomize her than suggest what I'm considering.
"You can't think of anyone that could spend time around me and Vicky? Really?"
"Not without having to... do stuff to them, and I'm not going to do that without telling them, and we can't tell anyone," she says despondently.
"And you've considered everyone?"
"Yes. I've been looking for pretty much anyone who fits the criteria, but no luck. You barely spend time with anyone other than Victoria. And me, I guess."
She's not even kidding. This girl is so dense it'd be funny if it wasn't so sad. It's still a little funny though.
She turns to look at me. "Why are you feeling amused about this? This is serious, Amy."
"I don't know, it's kind of funny you haven't thought of the obvious solution." She's so confused right now. She seriously hadn't even considered it.
"And what's the obvious solution?" she asks warily.
I lick my lips, clearing away winter's chap. "You."
"Me?"
"Yeah. You. Duh."
"Wh- Why me? I mean, I'm not even-- This isn't funny!"
"It's pretty damn funny actually," I say, letting out some laughter. If she's going to call me on it, I might as well actually laugh.
She keeps glaring, and if I couldn't feel her body curling further in on itself, I'd think her ready to shove me off the roof, but really she feels more liable to jump than push. "Explain."
I let out a final laugh. "Well. You can choose to spend time with Vicky and me without it being weird, no 'convincing someone else' needed. Plus, it means we won't have to involve anyone else, so really it's just safer this way. Less uh, what are they called?, potential leaks or something."
"Points of failure?"
"Yeah, that."
"I... guess this works. But, are you sure you want me to be the recipient?"
"If not you, then who? You already said no one else would work."
"But isn't that kind of..." An enormous swell of nausea: her whole body tenses up, ready to bolt, and her sweat glands increase productivity. "...Heartbreaker-y?"
I look at her like she's dumb. Which she is. "How the hell did you get into Arcadia when you're so dumb? Don't answer that, rhetorical question. How the fuck is this Heartbreaker-y?"
Her brow scrunches in confusion, and I feel the muscles on her jaw bunch up. She really did not like that. "Because I'd be using my power to make you love me?"
"I'm literally asking for it," despite my better judgement. "You think Heartbreaker cares about consent? No, he mindrapes whoever he wants and doesn't give a single fuck about them or what's right." Why is my mouth so dry? "You at least uh. You know. Give a shit or something," I finish lamely.
I lose track of her biology as she takes back her hand to rub at her eyes under her glasses. I'm blind to the thought processes that lead her to eventually ask, "Do you keep a diary?"
"No?"
"You should start. If we're doing it like this, we're doing it right, and that means I need data. I need you to self report and record how you're feeling every day: about me, about Vicky, about- everything and anything. I don't want to miss something and break you."
I try to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. It's... chilling, having the fragility of my mind brought up so frankly. The idea that she could mess up, or change her mind, or do whatever she wants with no oversight is... "Yeah," I make myself say, "Sure, I'll keep a journal or whatever."
"And we'll need a cover story. A reason for why we'll be spending so much time together, in case someone asks."
"What, like we're dating or something?"
She finally turns to look at me, and I wish I could read the look she gives me. "I was thinking 'or something,' but... But that might actually work."
"What? G-going out?" Is she seriously suggesting this?
"It wouldn't be for real, just until we think up a better outlet or way to get rid of the crush fully, but it would give us an excuse to be around each other, and it works as a cover for why you're in love with me. It fits too well."
I scoff. "I'm not in love with you."
She looks me in the eye and frowns. "You will be."
I can only gape. This- This- This-!
"So are you in?" she interrupts my thoughts before I can land on the right word to call her. "Do you want to pretend to go out while I fix your brain?"
"...Sure. Whatever."
"So. I can use my power on you? I can make you... love me?"
...I could say no. I could walk away, report her to the PRT and get her shipped to prison or put in the Wards or send her on the run and be done with her. But if I did that, it would just put me back into the same place I've been forever. It wouldn't fix anything, wouldn't help anyone, and this taste of normalcy this last week, of being able to just be around my sister, my best friend, without having to feel disgusting, it's been desperately intoxicating. I can't go back to how things were. I can't put Vicky into that position again, not when I can't be sure my rules can keep down the monster inside forever. So really, I don't have a choice in the matter, not one that matters.
I swallow my nerves - definitely nerves - and say, "Go ahead."
In an instant, both everything and nothing change. It's like Taylor transforms right in front of my eyes, but without any difference from before and after. She's not attractive, not conventionally beautiful, but the distinctiveness of her features shift ever so slightly.
Her long, glossy, black hair catches the afternoon sun, all but glowing as the breeze brushes through her tresses, and her lips don't look awkwardly thin and wide anymore so much as... an expressive centerpiece for her face. They should compete with her nose, as strong as it is, but somehow they fit together. And it's only been a week, but how have I not noticed the little flecks of green and gold in her eyes?
It's like looking at a magic eye picture, where what I'm seeing has objectively always been there, but I just couldn't focus right until now, and now that I can see it, it's breathtaking.
"Woah," she breathes, licking her lips as they turn upward into a small smile. It fits her face, bold despite it's subtlety. "That's..." She swallows. "How's that feel?"
"This is your power?" She nods. I stare at her for a long moment, just taking in the not-changes before delivering my verdict. "I guess you're a bit less annoying to look at?" She frowns at that and I rush to elaborate. "I mean, I don't know. I guess I just expected something more?"
Her frown deepens and why is this so frustrating? What does she even want from me? I'm not going to lie to her about this, that'd be stupid, she just said how important good data is.
"So," she starts, "how do you feel when I do this?" She reaches towards my face and I freeze. Glimpses of her biology, too sporatic to note more than their happenings, pass into me as her fingertips brush along my cheek, nudging a strand of my hair behind my ear. Her hand lingers, fingertips against scalp. She smirks and pulls back, leaving my face burning hot. "Good, it is working."
"The-" I clear my throat so I won't squeak again. Dammit why is my mouth so dry?! "The hell was that supposed to be?"
"Just checking to make sure that responses to stimuli are in line with the implanted emotions."
"O-oh. Okay." Wait why the hell do I sound so prissy and subdued? This creep just ran her damn fingers through my hair! Maybe she's not as much of a creep as she used to be-- Wait no, she absolutely is as much of a creep as she was a minute ago! Her creepiness hasn't changed one bit! She's just making me think things have changed when really she's still the same weirdo who followed me home in a ski mask like some sort of adorably floundering newby and- why the fuck does that memory make me want to smile?! I spent an hour last week ranting to myself about how Taylor fumbled through it like a freshmasked capefic protagonist and-- "This is weiiirrrrrd."
She looks thoughtful, lips pursed and eyes intense- intent. Eyes intent. "I hear what you mean. It should, hopefully, normalize after a while? I think it's just cognitive dissonance from such a sudden change."
"Weeeeeeeiiiiiiiirrrrrrrd," I draw out the word to hammer in the weirdness.
"Just don't think about it too much, okay?"
"I can try but..."
What can I even say to explain how weird this feels? This feels like some sort of cheap 'Oh' moment in a romance story, where the protagonist realizes their true feelings and everything changes as they start to pine for real, except no story I've ever read has described it as being so... dissonant. Yeah, that's a good word for this feeling. I don't like it.
"Can't you do something about it? Make it feel less weird?"
She looks away pensively. "Probably, but I... I'm not sure that's a good idea. It's hard to tell the source of people's feelings - sometimes it's clear and obvious, but other times not so much - and I don't think I should mess around too much yet."
Yet?!
"Fine, but if this keeps up you're fixing it." I close my eyes, lean back against the brick again, and try to think about anything other than the mind manipulating girl beside me and how weird she's making everything.
"Okay, Pavlov," she says with that lilt that people usually give to jokes. "That is kind of the whole point of conditioning you. Fixing you, I mean."
I have to open my eyes so I can stare at her because "...What?"
"You know, Pavlov? Conditioned his dog with a bell? It was a joke." I can only stare, bewildered. "Don't tell me you haven't heard about Pavlov."
"No I know who Pavlov is, that's not the issue. That was a joke?"
"Yeah."
"Are you sure?"
"What?"
"Jokes are funny, Taylor. That wasn't funny. That wasn't a joke, that was a-- I don't even know what that was but it wasn't a joke."
She scowls at me, one of the strongest I've seen from her, and-- Sure I wish she would keep smiling, but I don't think anyone could let a 'joke' like that go. She huffs. "Being your 'girlfriend' is going to suck, isn't it?"
I open my mouth but my words miscarry. That's right, we're girlfriends, Taylor and me. That... I honestly never thought I'd be able to say that I have a girlfriend. I figured I'd impotently crush on Vicky until I ate a bullet and that'd be that.
I know it's stupid, and it's fake, and it's not with the girl I actually, genuinely love, and it doesn't mean anything, and I know it's started with the express plan to end it later, but still! I have a girlfriend! That is a sentence I can honestly say, technically. I'd never, not for more than a few idle, forelorn moments at a time, thought there could be someone other than Vicky for me, but I have a girlfriend now!
She's nothing like Vicky, not at all: dark hair rather than blonde, willowy instead of athletic and curvy, distinctiveness in place of beauty. Vicky has been a constant in my life almost since before I can remember, and Taylor just barged in a week ago. Vicky can keep me safe from anyone who would hurt me, but... But Taylor can keep her safe from me.