Archive of Our Own

Carol Dallon looked up at the sound of her secretary's voice on the other end of her phone.

"Mrs. Dallon, your 3:15 appointment is here."

Carol frowned. She knew she had the appointment, but she didn't know what it was about. Someone wanting a consult, but her schedule said nothing about any details. Just that she'd specifically requested Carol as the 'perfect' lawyer for whatever her issue was.

The firm had generally been good at weeding out the people who just wanted to meet with Brandish and had no real reason to need her as their lawyer - her specialties were in property law, and by necessity, parahuman related civil matters.

The door to her office opened, and a short, stocky woman with brown hair, tanned, freckled skin and wearing a suit and tie walked in. Carol stood, holding out a hand. 

"Mrs. Quiston? Pleasure to meet you, I'm Carol Dallon. I understand you requested me specifically?"

"Please, call me Celia," Mrs. Quiston requested, taking Carol's hand and shaking it firmly. The other woman's grip was firm, and reasonably strong. Carol gestured to the chair across from her desk. Celia nodded and sat down. "And yes, I did. I appreciate you're a busy woman, both as a lawyer and as a cape, but I think you're the perfect lawyer to handle a legal matter that's risen up for me."

"Well, I'm certainly willing to hear you out, and if I think I'm not the right associate at this firm to handle it, I can direct you to whoever is." Carol agreed. She sat down herself, grabbing a legal pad to start taking notes. Celia crossed one leg over the other and laced her hands together, resting them on her knee as she started talking.

"It's a bit complicated, so if I can explain everything before you tell me if you can help me, I'd appreciate it." Carol nodded, and Celia went on. "I had a sister, Siobhan. We used to be quite close, as kids, but things happened, we grew apart, that sort of thing. Eleven ... no, ten and a half years ago, she took up with a criminal. He was a perfect gentleman, never hurt her as far as I know, but I didn't approve of her sleeping with a man that, while he couldn't be convicted of murder, was undoubtedly guilty."

Carol jotted that down, wondering where this was going. People being guilty of crimes but being unable to be brought in was one of things she hated most as a lawyer, and as cape. This firm, at least, tended not to provide criminal defense to the worst of the worst, but it was the worst part of her profession, as far as she was concerned.

"We argued, harsh words were exchanged, and in the end, we cut contact with each other. I moved across the country and then ultimately ended up going to South America for business, where I've been living for most of the last five years. When I came back to the States a few months ago, I found a letter that had been waiting for me. As it turns out, my sister had broken things off with her criminal beau about a year after our argument but then turned out to be pregnant. She raised her daughter on her own for five years. I found all of this out from a letter that I missed while out of the country. She sent it to me a few months before her death due to cancer. She was hoping that we could reconcile and that I'd agree to take in her daughter." 

Celia frowned, looking down at her hands for a moment. "Obviously, we didn't get the chance to reconcile, and she died, though not before deciding that my niece's father was an acceptable option to raise her, lacking any better alternative."

Carol couldn't imagine what that would be like, to find out your sister died and you weren't there to be with them. She'd had arguments with Sarah and Mike, but nothing so serious that it would end their relationship entirely. And if Crystal or Eric had ended up in the custody of a criminal...

Wait.

Carol tensed, schooling her expression. The timelines... the meeting with her specifically. Criminal father, died of cancer, raised her for five years? It could just be a coincidence, but her career as Brandish had taught her that coincidences didn't happen as much as you thought they did.

Still. She needed to know for sure before she reacted.

"All I want is to honor Siobhan's last wishes and take care of my niece. I tracked down her father, but unfortunately, he was finally arrested and imprisoned after only having her for about a year. Took me a while longer to track her down, but I did manage it." 

Carol stood up, fingers twisting, resisting the urge to use her power, to form one of her swords. There was no way this woman wasn't -

She was talking about Amelia. About Marquis.

"Ah, so you do know what I'm talking about. Excellent. I was hoping you'd put the pieces together." Celia stood up and reached inside her suit jacket. Carol braced herself - there were metal detectors at the entrances to the building, but the cleverness of criminals was not something she was prepared to underestimate. 

"Get out of my office." Carol snapped. "I can't represent you."

"Well, of course not, given that you're the problem here, Brandish." Celia pulled folded papers out of her suit jacket, tossing them onto the desk. "It took me a while to confirm that you had to be the ones to take my niece. And then a while to arrange testing to prove it."

"Prove?" Carol looked at the papers and unfolded them. DNA test results. Comparing 'Celia Quiston' and 'Unknown Female Child'.

The test results suggested a 97% chance that Celia was an aunt to the child. 

"You took Amy's DNA without permission?!" Carol raised her voice, holding back a snarl. When could she have done it? At school? I'm going to have words with the principal about this. Unlike her sister, Amy wasn't prone to going over to friend's houses, or going to the park to play (not that Carol would let Victoria or her sister go to the park without supervision), not unless she was going somewhere because Victoria was going. 

The two were inseparable. The way her daughter had embraced her sister so completely, and vice-versa, was a good thing, but it didn't make it any easier to stop seeing him when she looked at her. And every time she did that...

"Sue me, charge me, go for it. But when you're doing that, I'm going to be suing for custody of my niece and ruining New Wave's good name. The adoption records for Amelia Claire Dallon are good forgeries, but they're forgeries nonetheless." Celia leaned forward, putting her hands on Carol's desk, meeting her gaze. "I am taking my niece back from the people who kidnapped her: You and the rest of your family."

"Kidnapped?" Carol pulled her hand back as a blade of light formed in her hand. How dare this woman - she took his child into her home, fed her, housed her, cared for her, kept her safe, and this - this woman just came in and tried to act like what Carol had done was even close to - "Marquis begged us to take her in, to protect her!"

Celia jumped back, producing no weapon, staring her down regardless. She didn't look remotely afraid to be facing an angry cape. "Somehow, I suspect you won't attack an unarmed civilian in your own office." The smug, satisfied smirk on her face as she crossed her arms in front of her almost made Carol want to prove her wrong. "Now, will you give me my niece, or do we have to do this the hard way?" 

Celia cleared her throat, "The 'I take this to court and the press' way, I mean." She clarified. "You forging the records for Amelia's adoption aside, I actually approve of New Wave's work, so I'd really rather not air this out publicly, if it's avoidable. But," she paused after emphasizing the word, "one way or another, I am not leaving this godforsaken shithole of a city without my niece." 

Carol dismissed her blade, forcing herself to take a slow breath. 

Was this his whole plan? Trick one of us into adopting her, into forging the paperwork to hide her from his enemies, and then someone would come looking, find out, use it against us? 

The legalities of the forged adoption papers were pretty clear. And even if she could convince a judge or a jury that it was for the best, it was to keep Amy safe; it would undermine everything New Wave was about. Accountability. 

Purely on the level of taking Amy in, taking a villain's child in and protecting her, caring for her, letting her close to her daughter - Carol had to assume Sarah could make that work for New Wave. But it would be a hit. And their lives were under a microscope. Capes across the country were finally giving New Wave a real chance, listening.

There'd only been a few unmaskings, minor capes mostly, but if things could keep going... accountability, real accountability for heroes could be in reach. Something better than 'unwritten rules' and the PRT and Protectorate layering everything behind red tape.

Anything that undermined that, anything that gave the press vultures an opening had to be avoided.

"So, easy way or hard way?" Celia asked again. 

"Get out of my office," Carol demanded. 

"I'll give you a few days to decide, but just that, Mrs. Dallon." She grabbed Carol's pen off the legal pad and scrawled a phone number along the side of it. "You can reach me at this number if you decide to see sense."

"Sense? You'd rip Amy away from the only home she's known!" Carol snapped. 

"You had no right to take her, and that bastard Marquis had no right to give her to you." Celia countered. "Three days. 72 hours. Make up your mind." Celia turned on her heel, stalking out of Carol's office, and Carol dropped down into her chair, breathing heavily, hand twitching.

If she wants Amy so badly... a member of the family couldn't just vanish without explanation, not with how many eyes were on New Wave, but it would get that child out of her home, away from her daughter.

Away from her.

She wouldn't have to worry about her turning into her father, about watching her. Controlling her. Making sure that whenever she inevitably triggered, she didn't hurt anyone.

Victoria would be devastated... her daughter adored Amy, and Amy adored Victoria. The two were inseparable, and if she even hinted at the idea of Amy leaving their home...

But Victoria could get over it. Her daughter was still young. Resilient. She'd managed six years without Amy; she could manage without her. 

It would be simple enough. Even if the idea of just... letting that woman win by leveling threats... 

New Wave was more important, wasn't it? And she - she would be free of having to deal with Amy. Worry about her. Watch her. 

So why does it feel like I'm trying to convince myself? Amy wasn't her daughter. She was an obligation. An obligation she'd cared for and dealt with, but just an obligation. Carol wasn't so heartless as to leave a child in danger, even Marquis's child. That's why she'd taken the girl in at all.

The biggest stumbling block was just Victoria. Just her. And how to explain Amy vanishing. And the fact that letting Celia win was bowing to blackmail. And...

That was it. Nothing else. 

Sarah had said she'd grow to love Amy, but -

She hadn't.

She hadn't. 

Carol closed her eyes, took another slow breath. And Celia dared to act like they'd 'kidnapped' Amy? Where was she when Amy's biological mother was dying? And she wants to come back now, years later, rip Amy away from Victoria, away from her home, away from her family-

Away from me.

Carol blinked as the words rose unbidden in her mind. As she realized what they meant. 

And... 

That they were true.

She stared at her desk blankly for a long moment as it sank in. All of it.

Paging her secretary, Carol spoke as soon as the woman picked up: "Maria, cancel my four o'clock." She paused, "No. Have James handle it. He's familiar with the case. Tell him I'll owe him one, but something's come up - a family issue."

"Of course."

"Good." Carol hung up, then dialed another number. She waited until she heard her sister's voice on the other end of the line, answering. "Sarah? Something - something's come up. I'm on my way over." She tried to keep her voice level, but her sister could always pick up when -

"What's wrong? Should I get everyone else?"

"N-Not yet. Mark needs to stay with Victoria and Amy and -" She swallowed. "I think we should ask Mike and Jess to head over there too." Celia claimed she meant 'the press and the courts' as her 'hard way', but that could have just been a lie to lure her into a false sense of security while she tried to grab Amy somehow by force. Did she have friends? Could she hire someone?

"Carol? You're worrying me."

"It's about - it's about Amy. She has - she has living family, and they want her back." Carol said, voice feeling fragile, like glass. She choked a little as the words refused to come out for a moment: "They want to take my daughter."

She heard her sister start to swear and then cut herself off. "I'll call Mike and Jess. And - I'll get out the good bourbon."

"I'm a terrible mother," Carol said quietly, staring ahead, past Sarah. Sarah looked at the half-empty glass of bourbon in her sister's hand. She'd detailed her meeting with 'Celia Quiston' - was that even the woman's actual name? - and the threats she'd leveled against Carol, against New Wave.

"Because you don't want to give her up?" Sarah's eyes flicked to Carol's face, the distant, sunken expression there something she'd but rarely seen on her sister. "Even if this really is Amy's aunt, that doesn't mean she just gets to take her."

Carol had always had doubts in her abilities as a mother - both to Victoria, and then Amy. But she couldn't understand what was giving rise to them now, of all times?

"Because for a moment, just for a moment, I considered letting her take Amy," Carol admitted, even quieter. 

Did I- her sister's words were barely above a whisper, and Sarah allowed herself a brief second to entertain the idea she hadn't heard her say that she'd considered giving up one of her daughters.

"God... Carol. Why?! I know - I know you had issues taking her in at first, but I thought you were past all that. Within a few months, all you could talk about was how close Victoria was with her. You said it reminded you of us." 

As kids, Carol had always been the more introverted, withdrawn, and serious of the two of them. Sarah was always the one tugging her into the limelight, making her meet people, getting her to relax when school or college threatened to overwhelm her. Even before they'd triggered, they'd been close. After... they'd been inseparable for a long time. 

Their parents hadn't understood. Had refused to understand, really.

One of many reasons they didn't talk to their parents, one of many reasons why their children had never met their grandparents.

"It does. They do." Carol nodded. "You said I'd grow to love her, and... God help me, I did. But I can't trust her. Every time I look at her, I see him. I wonder what game he was playing, asking us to take her in." She swallowed, voice thick as she kept going: "I keep waiting for the trap, I keep watching, for any sign she'll end up like her father. Having Victoria was hard enough, always second-guessing myself, Mark having his bad days more and more often... worrying about her, and now Amy."

She blinked repeatedly, taking another sip of her bourbon before going on.

"I don't - I don't remember the last time I hugged her."

"You're not much of a hugger in general," Sarah said, trying to find something she could say to keep Carol from dwelling, spiraling downwards as she berated herself. 

"But I at least remember the last time I hugged Victoria. I don't - I barely call Amy 'my daughter', I - I worry for her safety, but I worry about my safety around her." She let out a half-choked laugh, dark and bitter. "I'm afraid of a nine-year-old child. And she has to have picked up on something"

Sarah opened her mouth to protest that last bit, but then closed it. Even when it had just been Victoria, Carol had always been a stricter parent than Sarah. Part of that was compensating for Mark - when he had his good days, Mark preferred to be the 'fun parent', and part of that was just her sister.

But Sarah had seen that much, that Carol was never quite as affectionate with Amy. She had just never realized things were as bad as Carol was describing them.

"You're still not a terrible mother, Carol," Sarah said. "I wish you'd told me about this sooner, so I could help you with it, but you know it's happening, that it's an issue, and you do love her. So you can try to be better." She put her hand on her sister's arm. "That's all we can do, isn't it? Try to be better."

Damnit, Carol, would it have been so hard to tell me any of this sooner? She should have seen it, she knew how hard Carol found it to trust. She'd been almost amazed when she realized Carol trusted Mark enough to marry him, have a child with him. It had seemed... like a sign Carol was doing better. 

And she was. 

But maybe not as well as Sarah had thought. 

"I want to try, but... what if I can't? Doesn't Amy deserve someone who can be a better-"

"Okay, Carol, just - stop. You love that girl. You care about her. You take care of her. You took her in when you didn't want to because you were too good a person to let her be left at risk in the foster care system." Sarah said firmly.

That train of thought needed to be shut down. What Celia Quiston was threatening to do could hurt New Wave, yes. As much as she hated that fact, respecting secret identities were the norm. That said, convincing people that breaking them with Marquis was doable, given how dangerous he really was - especially since New Wave wasn't being hypocritical about it all. Taking in his child was justifiable, he'd asked them to, it was for her safety. But the fact that they'd forged the adoption paperwork, that they hadn't tried to find a living relative, allbecause Marquis had said there was no one - why had they taken him at his word? - would hurt them. And a custody battle, just by having it, could kill their momentum entirely.

Even if it didn't, there'd be a hit, the cape tabloids would go rabid with it. But even if their momentum stalled or slowed, New Wave could survive it, if it all came out into the open.

But if Amy Dallon just... disappeared one day, then there'd be enough people tugging on that thread for it to all come out, and the damage to New Wave would be worse, because it wouldn't come out in a controlled way.

They were just starting to get somewhere, being taken seriously. 

Realities of New Wave aside, Amy was her niece. She cared about the girl as much as she did Victoria. She was part of the family. Losing her would hurt.

"We don't know anything about this 'Aunt'. We don't know how she'd raise her. What I know is that Amy would be shattered if she got taken away from Victoria, and Victoria would be the same. I know you love her, and she is your daughter. Your family, our family, is the only family she knows. It's the best place for her. Here, with you." 

She exhaled, "You know you have work to do. That puts you leagues ahead of Mom and Dad." 

Carol coughed a moment before barking a single bitter laugh. "That's a low bar to clear." Carol took a long breath, swallowed, and then took one more sip of the bourbon. "I don't want to give her up."

"Then don't." Sarah pressed. "Now, let's figure out how we're going to protect our family."

Carol didn't want to be here. 

It was only at Sarah's urging that she'd agreed to come. 

"What if this is just a distraction to make sure we're out of the way, and someone can -" Carol cut herself off. They'd prepared for the possibility anyway - Mark, Neil, Jess and Mike were with all four children at a cabin not too far from the city that Neil had inherited from his father. They'd tried very hard to keep the location secret, so...

There was no reason to believe that Celia Quiston would do anything or had... friends or allies or anything that would try to grab Amy by force. 

She was Amelia's aunt, by all available evidence. Marquis had had Amelia's birth certificate, and though his own name hadn't been on it, her mother's had. Carol hadn't ever looked at the thing, shoving it into a safe with other important documents and mostly forgetting about it.

But it did say 'Siobhan Quiston' as the girl's mother's name. That had been Amelia's original last name too, before Marquis had taken her in and changed it. 

Of course, he would. She couldn't imagine his sensibilities would have allowed a child of his to not have his last name, at least if he was raising them. And checking records on Siobhan Quiston had turned up an obituary of the woman's mother - Amelia Quiston, the namesake of Amy, presumably - a few years before Amelia's birth, killed at the hands of the Teeth. She had been survived by two daughters, Celia and Siobhan. The picture of the mother with the obituary did resemble Celia, especially the freckles.

Marquis hadn't had freckles, so perhaps she'd gotten them from Siobhan. Carol didn't know enough to say. Amy looked like her father - too much, but... apparently she did have something from her mother.. 

"Even if it is, the others are more than capable," Sarah said quietly.

The two of them were at a coffee shop on the Boardwalk, waiting. It was two days since Celia Quiston had accosted her at her office and a day since Celia had reached out to Sarah through New Wave's public line, asking for a face-to-face meeting in a public venue.

She had claimed she wanted to apologize for letting her temper get the better of her. The only apology she wanted was the woman staying far, far from her family. But, though she hadn't made her threats again if they didn't agree to the meeting, if they didn't agree, Celia might still go public.

Carol was worried about what it would do to New Wave, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized the greatest problem was that if word got out that Amy was Marquis's daughter, any of his enemies who wanted to hurt her would know exactly where she was. And how they might be able to get to her...

Would they let fear of reprisal New Wave stop them? Carol could hope, but... 

Marquis had fought the Teeth, Empire Eighty-Eight, and even Slaughterhouse Nine. Had had to have other enemies Carol didn't know about. The Teeth and the Nine were long gone from the city, but Carol would never credit E88 with an abundance of caution or brains. 

The idea of her daughters being in even more danger... Carol couldn't accept that. She had to at least try to head it off, and if that meant meeting with that - with that woman again, then she would do it.

The door to the shop opened, the bell ringing and two people came in - Celia Quiston and another woman with black hair and olive skin sitting in a wheelchair. Celia guided the woman through the door, then let go of the chair, letting her wheel herself. Celia looked around, her eyes falling on Sarah and then her.

Carol tensed, and she thought she saw Celia doing the same from across the distance, but before Celia could come closer, the woman in the wheelchair reached up and grabbed Celia's wrist. She couldn't catch the words the woman said to her, but then Celia nodded and made her way to the counter while the woman in the wheelchair made her way to their table.

The Coffee shop did have a pretty open layout, which might be why Celia had agreed to this particular location once Sarah suggested it - they'd traded options back and forth.

"She did say she was going to bring someone," Sarah murmured, as the woman reached their table. 

"Mrs. Dallon, Mrs. Pelham?" The woman asked. Her accent was hard to place - it almost sounded Hispanic, but... not. But definitely not someone from Spain, one of her instructors at Law School had been an immigrant from Spain and he'd sounded nothing like this woman. Portuguese? Brazilian? 

Celia did say she'd been in South America...

"Please, call me Sarah." Sarah held out a hand. "You're with Celia Quiston? Are you her lawyer?"

"Ah, Deus não," She shook her head. "I'm Gabriela Almedia, Celia's girlfriend." She shook Sarah's hand. Carol hesitated for a long moment, then forced herself to offer her own hand, which Gabriela accepted and shook. "I'd like to apologize for her being a complete idiot in your office two days ago, Mrs. Dallon," she added.

"I can accept your apology, but you weren't the one who threatened my family." Carol finally said. "I'd like to hear it from Celia."

"And you will." Gabriela pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a breath. "But I figured I might help try to reduce some tensions now, by coming over while she ordered drinks." She gestured to Sarah's half-finished latte and Carol's forgotten, barely touched coffee. 

"And where do you stand on all this?" Carol asked, words coming out flatly. "Do you want to take-"

"I don't want to take your daughter from you," Gabriela said quickly. 

"Then what exactly is the point of this meeting? Is she just giving up? Dropping her threat?"

"As much as I would like her to, not unless we can come to an agreement." Gabriela admitted. "But after I yelled at her for a long time, she got it through her very thick skull that taking Amy away from the only family she knows, the family that has loved and taken care of her for the last three years, is not the best choice for her."

Carol looked over towards the counter as she felt herself release a small breath. Celia was accepting two cups from the barista, and she made her way towards the table, setting a cup of tea down in front of Gabriela, and a coffee in front of an empty chair, before sitting down.

"Mrs. Quiston," Sarah nodded.

"Mrs. Pelham."

"Please, call me Sarah." Sarah held out a hand, and Celia accepted it, shaking. Celia looked over at her, her hand closing tight around her coffee cup, clenching her jaw for a moment. Gabriella cleared her throat, and Celia gave her a quick look - her expression softened for a moment, then she looked back at Carol.

"Mrs. Dallon." She swallowed, "I haven't been handling the fact that my sister died, wanting to reconcile and thinking I wanted nothing to do with her, thinking I'd abandon her daughter, while I was too far away to be of any use." The words sounded rehearsed, practiced, and the way she was maintaining eye contact with Carol made her think the other woman had said this in front of a mirror. "And I took that out on you, in your office. I'm sorry for that."

Carol inhaled sharply, taking a sip of her coffee for a moment to take a moment to consider. It was... understandable, as far as excuses went, and being practiced didn't mean it wasn't genuine, but that didn't mean it was either. Carol couldn't tell one way or the other as she searched Celia's expression.

"I'd have an easier time accepting your apology if you dropped your threats against my family." Carol pointed out. "Did you even think about the danger that would put Amy in?"

"Her name is-" Celia started to counter, but Gabriela put a hand on Celia's arm and Celia took a breath. "Our mother never liked the diminutive 'Amy'," Celia offered as an explanation. 

"Well, Amy doesn't like Amelia," Carol countered. The adoption paperwork was for 'Amy', she was Amy in all public records now, enrolled in school as Amy. Her second grade teacher had tried to call her 'Amelia', out of an apparent hatred for diminutives, even if they were the child's actual name. Amy had gotten in quite a bit of trouble for refusing to answer to Amelia until the teacher had been forced to call her by her name after Carol had met with the principal.

If Amy had just told me what was going on sooner... She'd had to find out the details from Victoria, when the punishments had escalated from timeouts to detention.

"Then I'll try not to call her Amelia to her face." Celia promised, running her free hand through her hair. 

You're not going to be seeing her again, so why would that matter? Carol held that back. This was a negotiation. She knew what her reputation at the firm was, and she was often brought in when hardball was required, but she was capable of being diplomatic, if she had to.

And as long as Celia was threatening to go to the courts, the press... 

"Anyway, no, when I said I'd go to the press or the courts, I didn't think about how it might put her in danger. Until you said otherwise, I just sort of assumed you just... took Amel- Amy. That is why I used the term 'kidnapped." Carol's other hand grabbed onto the armrest of her chair as she reigned in her power.

"Marquis was quite clear that he had enemies that might try to get to him through her," Sarah offered, cutting in to try and defuse things. "Carol took her in for her safety, but she's part of our family now."

"I'm not giving my daughter up." 

The words 'my daughter' referring to Amy still felt... strange to her ears, and yet... they remained true. She'd tried to do better for Amy in the last two days, but it was hard, when she was actually seeing her, to forget Marquis. But she needed to keep trying.

"I get that. And as much as part of me would like to push on that, I'm - I just want to be part of her life. I'm not asking you to give her to me."

Carol kept control of her expression, not letting anything show. That was too easy. Just wanted to be part of her life? Wanted a chance to get close, to - convince Amy to choose her? To talk Amy into letting her take her away?

Amy wouldn't do that. Not to Victoria.

...not as long as Carol didn't chase her away.

"That's quite a change from what you were saying in my office," Carol said slowly.

"Yeah. Well, like I said, I let my temper get the best of me. I - I may have cut contact with Siobhan over her taking up with Marquis but she's still my sister. I missed her, I always wanted to reach out but..." Celia shook her head, "Siobhan's taste in men was never good, Marquis was just the final crowning choice."

Carol held back a grimace. Had Amy inherited her mother's taste in men? She'd always worried about what the girl had inherited from Marquis - and what the shape of whatever power she'd eventually get would be - but it had never occurred to her to worry about what she might have inherited from her birth mother.

"So I didn't. I kept putting it off. But I still loved her. And now Amy's all that's left of her in this world." Her voice came a little thick. "And then Siobhan died still thinking I hated or... something." She reached into a pocket and took out a folded piece of paper, and a photo. It was an old photo, maybe from a disposable camera, a little faded, but it was of a woman who looked like a thinner, taller version of Celia at a park, holding onto the hand of a little girl who could only be Amy, wearing a little dress with flowers on it. 

So this is her birth mother. Carol picked up the photo for a moment. Amy didn't remember much about her life before coming into her home. Not even about Marquis now. Which was for the best overall, but... 

Did she deserve to know more about her birth mother? Or was it best to leave all that in the past?

She looked at the folded paper - a letter, written to Celia. The very letter that Celia hadn't received until years later. 

It was as Celia had described it originally - an appeal to their sisterhood, a desire to reconcile, saying that her relationship with 'Patrick' was long over... and that she was dying. That she had a daughter, Amelia...

Carol clenched her jaw, putting the letter down. It felt vaguely... voyeuristic to read it, given how it wasn't meant for her. 

"I think you're insane for wanting to live in this shithole of a city, but you guys are doing good work, so maybe it won't be a shithole forever. And... taking Amy away from the only family she knows is..." she inhaled slowly, taking a sip from her coffee. 

"There's a part of me, the part of me that hates this city the most, that wants to just demand you let me take her... anywhere. Anywhere else." She let out a long sigh. "But... you are her family too. And you are the ones who housed, cared for her, protected her and loved her for three years. And this is her home."

Carol stared at Celia, watching her. 

She said she just wanted to be part of Amy's life. Would that really just be until she decided to try to force the issue again? Or was she sincere? 

"What exactly did you have in mind?" Sarah asked. "For being in her life."

"Talking to her. Telling her I'm her Aunt. Maybe telling her about her birth mother, if she wants to know." She sighed.

"And, if it proves to be practical and possible, moving to this city for good." Gabriela cut in. She reached over and took Celia's hand, squeezing it. "Celia's distaste for this city aside, this is where Amy lives, so..." She shrugged. 

Planning to stay, then. Being right there, always in reach. 

"If you promise to not take this to the courts, or the press, then... we can..." Carol hated the idea of letting this stranger get close to her family. But it would keep Amy safe... and -

It was the best available option, right now. Long term... maybe something could be done. "We can arrange for something. For you to meet Amy - at my home - and introduce yourself as her Aunt. But whatever happens, you need to remember Amy is my daughter."

Celia bit her lower lip, sucking it a little like she'd bit a lemon, then nodded. "She's your daughter."

"Which means there are some ground rules to bear in mind. First and foremost, keep all details about her birth father to a minimum. She's not ready to know about Marquis." The longer Amy went before learning about him, the better.

Ideally, she'd never learn, but... that probably wasn't possible now. She'd just - she'd just have to make sure there was no chance Amy would follow in his footsteps. One way or another.

At the end of the day, as much as Amy was his daughter, she was also hers. She was Mark's. And she was Victoria's sister. 

That mattered. It really did.

Letting Celia Quiston into her home felt... she hated it. 

But it was also the place where she was in control of the situation the most. Her ground. Her space. If this meeting was going to happen, and it had to, then this was the best place for it now.

Victoria was sitting at the kitchen table, doing math homework. Celia would be here soon... 

"Victoria," she walked into the kitchen, her daughter looking up at the mention of her name. "Is Amy up in her room?" Her daughter nodded. "Go get her, bring her down to the living room. We have some guests that will be arriving soon."

"Sure Mom!" Probably happy for the excuse to abandon the homework, Victoria hurried out of the kitchen:

"No running in the house!" she called after Victoria, who managed to slow herself down as she went up the stairs. Carol shook her head, moving back into the living room.

"We can always call this off, if you aren't ready for it," Mark murmured behind her. Carol turned - her husband was having one of his good days today, thank God - and faced him. She shook her head.

"I'm never going to be ready, but this... this has to happen. It's the best way to keep our family safe, and protect New Wave." Carol said quietly. She pressed her forehead against Mark's for a moment, then pulled back as Victoria started coming down the stairs, Amy behind her.

Victoria was talking animatedly about... something. A movie she'd seen? She was coming in halfway into the story and her daughter was talking a mile a minute.

Amy reached the bottom of the stairs after her sister, hooked on Victoria's every word, holding onto her hand as Victoria tugged her along.

"Who's coming over, Mom?" Victoria asked once they entered the living room. Amy stood behind Victoria, her daughter bowing her head a little, not quite meeting Carol's gaze.

Carol tried to ignore the tightness in her chest at that. 

"Amy, could you look at me please?" She forced herself to use a softer tone than she usually did with her children. Amy looked up at her, swallowing. "I know you don't remember much about before you became part of this family. But do you remember much of your birth mother?"

"Mom?" Victoria asked, Carol quickly gestured for her to quiet, and Amy licked her lips a moment, before answering.

"I... just... bits and pieces? I think maybe I remember a face... a home - it smelled like strawberries a lot?" Amy answered. "I remember - I remember missing her, after - after I went to-"

"Your biological father is a different discussion, for another time," Carol cut in. Amy's jaw snapped shut and she nodded, looking away again. Carol took a breath and went on. "The reason I asked is because - your mother has a sister. She never knew about you until recently, but now that she does, she would like to meet you."

Amy's eyes widened, "I...I have an Aunt?"

"You already have Aunts, silly! Aunt Sarah and Aunt Jess!" Victoria teased, then she frowned. "Why - she's not - she's not going to come to take Amy, right?" Victoria grabbed Amy's hand and tugged her close, Amy yelping in surprise. Victoria wrapped her arms around Amy in a tight, possessive hug. "She can't take her. You're not going to let anyone take Amy, right?"

"No, never," Carol said firmly, more tightness in her chest. Whatever else, she'd raised a daughter that had so much love in her heart to give for Amy, from the moment she'd been told Amy was her sister now. "No one is going to take you away, Amy. You're my daughter," she swallowed, bracing herself a little, then crouched down a bit and wrapped her arms around both her daughters. Victoria pulled one arm off of Amy and put it around her.

Amy, for her part, stiffened, tensed, unsure, but after a long moment, mimicked Victoria's action and tentatively put it up and onto Carol, around her shoulder. 

Carol pulled back after a moment. Before she could say anything else, there was a sound of a ringing doorbell. 

"Is that her?" Amy asked softly, something Carol couldn't place in her tone. Apprehension? Longing? Anxiety? All three? 

"It should be." Carol stood up, nodding to Mark and made her way back to the front door, looking through the peephole. Celia and Gabriela. No one else. No extra cars out front, just the one van she could assume was Celia's. Better to transport someone in a wheelchair with? There could be people in it, but...

She opened the door. 

"Mrs. Dallon," Celia said, the forced politeness obvious in the strain in her voice. 

"If we're going to do this, you may as well call me Carol," Carol said after a moment, then stepped aside.

Celia nodded, "Carol then." She moved behind Gabriela, the other woman leaning back in her chair as Celia tilted it back to get up and over the one front step, then lifting the back of the chair up and then repeating it to get the chair through the front door entirely. 

"Thank you for inviting us into your home," Gabriela said, her politeness sounding much more genuine. 

"Amy's just in the living room." She gestured. Mark was coming towards them. "This is Mark, my husband."

"Pleasure to meet you," Gabriela held out a hand first, and Mark shook it. "Gabriela,"

"Likewise," Mark agreed, then shook Celia's hand. "And you must be Celia then."

"I am." She nodded, returning the handshake, then letting her hands fall by her sides, Gabriela wheeling herself forward. All four of them returned to the living room. Victoria was standing half in-front of Amy, crossing her arms in front of her chest, glaring at Celia.

"You have freckles, like Amy. You're her aunt?" 

Celia chuckled, "I am. You're Victoria then?" Victoria nodded. Amy hesitantly looked at her Aunt, hands clasped, twisting them back and forth. "Amy. I'm glad I finally get to meet you. I'm your Aunt Celia." 

Amy bit her lip, then after a moment, held out one hand. Celia accepted it, shaking it. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Victoria interrupted, stepping between them again.

"Why are you here!?" She demanded. "Mom said you aren't allowed to take Amy, so why are you here?!"

"Victoria!" Carol snapped at her daughter, "Be polite!"

"Not if she wants to take Amy away!" Victoria raised her voice back, one hand closing into a fist. 

"I promise I'm not here to take your sister away from you," Celia said quickly, calmly. She inhaled. "Why would you-"

"In all the movies and books when the adopted kid's family finds them they always take them away from their families!" Victoria said, voice lower. "But - you're not going to?"

"No. This isn't a story, and this is Amy's home. I won't rip her away from it, or from you."

"Good." Victoria nodded, then stepped aside, looking at Amy. "She's okay then."

"...I don't want to leave." Amy said quietly, looking at Victoria. She dropped her hands by her sides. "I..." she closed her mouth, licked her lips, started again. "Where - I don't... I don't remember having an Aunt - I mean..." she cut herself off, flushing. "I mean, an Aunt that -"

"I understand what you mean. I'm not sure how much you remember of your birth mother - Siobhan was her name - but we... we had a fight, before you were born, and I went away. Far away. I never knew you existed until a few months ago, when I found an old letter." She reached into her pocket and took out the photo of a younger Amy and Siobhan at the park. "She'd sent me this." She held it out to Amy.

Amelia took the picture, looking at her, blinking repeatedly. "Is this -"

"Yes, it's her. And you."

"I barely remember her." Amy said quietly, one hand trailing over Siohban's face. "...she smelled like strawberries?"

Celia laughed, "Siobhan found this strawberry scented shampoo when we were teenagers, and fell in love with it. Used it all the da- darn time," Celia corrected herself mid-word. "I guess she never stopped. They were her favorite food in general." She crouched, putting a hand on Amy's shoulder. "Tell you what, why don't we sit on the couch here, and I can tell you about her, and you can tell me about you. What you like to do? Favorite foods? I want to know everything."

Amy considered for a moment, then nodded slowly. She held the picture back out to Celia, but Celia shook her hand. "Keep it, so you always remember what she looked like. Your adoptive mother loves you very much, but so did Siobhan. Remember that." Amy blinked repeatedly, and Carol could see a bit of wetness in her eyes. She looked past Celia to Gabriela, who'd watched the whole scene quietly.

"This is Gabriela, my girlfriend," Celia introduced. 

"Girlfriend? But - you're a girl?" She said it without any real emotion beyond a bit of confusion. Carol resisted the urge to let out a sigh.

"You know how Legend has a husband, even though he's a man?" Carol asked. Amy nodded slowly, then.

"Oh." she said, following the logic. "Okay."

"You're probably still at the age where you both think boys are stupid and icky, right?" Celia asked, chuckling.

Victoria nodded, "Most of them are! Eric's okay, but Crystal says he's annoying."

"She has to live with him all the time," Amy said, smiling just a little. 

"Well, some people never stop thinking boys are icky, even when they grow up." Celia stood up and moved over to the couch, and Amy hesitated a moment, then moved to sit next to her. Victoria, unsurprisingly, sat down on Amy's other side. 

"So, like I said, tell me about yourself," Celia said. "I want to know everything."

Carol heard Gabriela wheeling over next to her and Mark, as Amy started hesitantly talking - Victoria occasionally chiming in. 

"I'm sure it wasn't easy to agree to this, so thank you." Gabriela murmured. Then she chuckled softly, "Victoria seems to be quite attached to Amy."

"She was from pretty much the moment we told her Amy was her sister," Mark offered. "They're pretty inseparable."

"I can tell. You've raised lovely daughters," Gabriela complimented. 

"Thank you," Carol let out a breath, feeling her shoulders relax just a little. So far... there wasn't a trap. And Amy... Amy was her daughter, and didn't want to leave. She didn't think she would, but...

Being animated like this, talking, actually genuinely smiling a little - this was when she reminded Carol of her father the least. 

Amy wasn't just his child. She was hers. 

She just needed to make sure she reminded herself of that, when it got too hard to remember.