Steaming hot water poured over my scalp and down my back. Pulsating jets of massaging heat worked out tension in my scalp and helped to alleviate the sharp, throbbing ache inside my skull. I had my head tilted back so the water was blasting on the top of my scalp, and a dozen more jets were spraying all along my back from the complex arrangement of showerheads that ran down the surface of the wall.

  It would be bliss, were it not for the annoying ache in my skull.

  A tickling sensation along my tonsils caused me to jerk and cover my mouth with a sudden, hard cough. Metallic flavor filled my mouth, and I felt like gagging. My eyes shot open, and I brought my head back down.

  Thick, sticky crimson all over my hand, and the sensation of someone taking a pickaxe to the back of my skull when I coughed. I staggered, and this time, I did gag, quite loudly. I threw my bloody hand out to stabilize myself on the shower wall, but of course, blood was notoriously bad for traction.

  I went sprawling to the floor with a cry and a loud thump.

  The shock of it seemed to rattle something loose upstairs, because I was vaguely aware of the fact that I wasn’t sure how I’d gotten into the shower in the first place. The last thing I remembered was drifting back to sleep for a nap after the events of earlier this morning.

  That’s right. I woke up with Taylor. She was going to get cleaned up and make brunch for the two of us. Why’s everything fuzzy?

  The thumping of feet and the door flying open were all the warning I got while I was lost in my head, then Taylor’s arms were helping me back up.

  “Morgan! Are you okay?! What happened?”

  I groaned, in embarrassment more than anything, and pawed at my nose.

  “It’s nothing, I just got a nosebleed without realizing it, gagged myself, and fell like an idiot,” I explained in a snuffy voice.

  Concern was etched in Taylor’s face, but she nodded along. “Are you sure you’re alright? Can I get you anything?”

  “A band-aid for my wounded pride for having fallen in the shower, and maybe a really dark colored towel or two, if you have any. I’d feel terrible about ruining any because of bloodstains.”

  She laughed warmly and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek, getting a bit of water misted on her face in the process. “Don’t worry about bloodstains, really. In a Cape household, dealing with bloodstains is just a fact of life. Besides, if it’s really that bad, we can more than afford to replace a towel, silly.” Stepping back, she patted some of the water off her face with one of the hanging towels and added, “Breakfast is ready whenever you’re done. I hope you’re hungry. I might have gone a bit overboard and made too much.”

  I gave her a thumbs-up, and she left. I plugged my nose in the hopes the nosebleed would go away quicker, turned the temperature of the water down so it wasn’t quite so hot, and used the shower wand to rinse off the garish handprint that looked like it came straight out of a horror film from the wall.

  When I was reasonably sure that I wasn’t still leaking blood everywhere, I finished showering and towel-dried. It took entirely way too long to dry my hair, which took a towel all to itself, but I managed to get it dried and combed out. I slathered myself up with moisturizing sunscreen and got dressed in a pair of cute leggings and a graphic tee featuring big-name Protectorate heroes in dramatic poses I’d picked up yesterday.

  The smell of food drew me like a moth to flame when I left the guest bathroom. Taylor was bustling around in the kitchen still, cleaning up and putting things away. There was a large stack of chunky burritos sitting on a tray in the middle of the kitchen island. I pulled out a stool and took a seat, doing what I could to avoid drooling on myself as my stomach twisted itself into knots in anticipation.

  I took a seat at the island in front of one of the plates already set out in front of me, and helped myself to a burrito. Taylor pulled out a small selection of condiments, including some hot sauces that were on the milder side of things. Despite being starving-level hungry at the moment, I took my time eating and used the opportunity to try a few of the hot sauces.

  The mild sausage, potato, and egg in the burrito wrap was like a salve for my soul, and the hot sauces were the virtual sprinkles on top. When she finished cleaning up after herself, Taylor joined me at the island and helped herself to a pair of burritos, which she liberally doused in fierce-smelling hot sauce.

  There was a nervous energy filling me, and I kept stealing side glances at Taylor as we ate. Memories of the morning kept distracting me from my meal, and I found my cheeks warming due in no small part to them. Thankfully, I had hot sauce to blame for the flush on my face and the light dusting of moisture on my brow.

  Between bites, we took up some small talk. Taylor had taken some vacation time from her hero work to spend with me. There were a number of things that I had to get done, and she told me she was more than happy to assist me with them. Finding a place to stay for myself. Getting some more shopping done, getting prepared to meet my family, and re-familiarizing myself with the city I lived in.

  Taylor explained that she was coordinating with Victoria to cover the bases, but between the two of them, I shouldn’t have any issues getting everything that I needed to get done, done.

  Victoria.

  I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t feel like there was something there, thinking about the blonde bombshell. In the same way I felt this strong magnetic pull to Taylor, I also felt a pull with Victoria.

  Doubt nibbled at the edge of my consciousness, and I stewed in a moment of silence while munching on my brunch. As embarrassing as it was to ask, I didn’t know who else I could talk to about it, so I figured it was best to eat the awkwardness.

  “Um, Taylor?” I turned slightly in my stool to look at her.

  She licked a dab of hot sauce from the corner of her lips and looked back with a coy grin on her lips. “Mhm?”

  “Sorry if this is asking a lot, or if you even know in the first place or not, but do you know much about my friends? I mean, god, this is confusing to try and keep track of. I mean, do you know much about what my relationships were with my friends? You know, from before?”

  She nodded slowly and lowered her burrito from where she’d been holding it up to take another bite from it. “Yeah, some of them, at least. What do you want to know?”

  I furrowed my brow and flexed my jaw for a long moment, not saying anything. Finally, I broke the self-imposed silence. “I have these feelings for people, but I don’t really know what they mean, why I have them, or what they might imply.” I looked up from my lap to make eye contact with her again.

  I could get lost in those eyes.

  “I feel these sorts of like… Pushes or pulls towards people, but I don’t know the why of why I feel them, you know?”

  Taylor gave me a slow nod, holding eye contact.

  “I felt–feel–a strong pull with you. And with Amy. You sort of explained why that might be with the talks last night, explaining that we sort of had… things going on.”

  “Ah, right. Okay. You’re wondering what some of your relationships might have been with others?”

  I dropped my eyes back to my lap. “...yeah.”

  Taylor reached over and gave my distant shoulder a firm squeeze. “Don’t sweat asking about it, yeah? You want to know about your past that you can’t remember, and I can’t think of anything more reasonable to ask about. Who are you wondering about?”

  “What was the story with Victoria and me?”

  Taylor hummed a note under her breath before answering. “Well, you and your sister went to school with Amy and Victoria, and from everything I heard, were very close with one another, like a sort of extended family. Amy told me that her mom saw you and your sister as step-kids of a sort, and I was present for some of the more heated exchanges between you and Carol Dallon. I’d say it matched what Amy describes, sort of a familial vibe.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  I made a bit of a face at that. I didn’t want to think of the implications of dating a step-sibling.

  Taylor seemingly read my mind, and she snickered. “I don’t think it was like that, if you were thinking about you and Amy.”

  I sighed and took another bite of my burrito.

  So she’s sort of like a step-sister to me. I guess that checks out.

  Taylor continued: “If I had to run off some of the others, I’d say you had a pretty cool relationship with the rest of the Undersiders, with the notable exception of Rachel. I never really knew what the deal was with you two, but she treated you much differently than others. I should probably reach out to her and get you two re-acquainted with one another.”

  I swallowed and wiped my lips on the paper towel she’d provided with the plate. “I’m not familiar with any Rachels, but you sound a little hesitant?”

  “Mmh. She went by Bitch, was my teammate in the Undersiders. She and I had a strange relationship while I ran with them. She became pretty bitter after I left the team, and she sort of keeps her distance nowadays, even though I’ve tried to build bridges.”

  “Bitch, the cape with the mutant dogs?”

  “The one and the same, yep. She’s given up the villain life and is an independent cape now, here in the city. She doesn’t do much in the way of cape things, and mostly just runs her animal shelters. She’s a member of Brockton Strong.”

  I nodded absently and let my eyes wander around the apartment. One of the walls in the living area was heavily covered in photographs, which I’d been looking over, but there were some framed certificates as well. I was reminded of visits to a doctor’s office, for some odd reason.

  Taylor traced my eyes over to the wall and smiled widely. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise, but Amy’s super proud of those.”

  “What are they?”

  Taylor chuckled. “The degrees she’s been awarded. They’re mostly honorary, but she did ‘earn’ some of them, too.” There was a note of irony in her voice when Taylor said earn. “A lot of them are from her time as Panacea, but we both attended BBU and graduated. Vicky is still going, if you can believe it, and she’s enrolled in a PhD graduate program.”

  I blinked rapidly, the surprise I felt overtaking the surge of guilt I couldn’t account for. “Really?” I asked her. “You were able to find time to attend while doing everything else?”

  Taylor and I made eye contact, and she had a coy grin teasing at her lips, and a sparkle in her eye. “PRT capes get free rides to any accredited university and flexible scheduling as part of their membership in the Protectorate. It’s sort of a waste not to use it, isn’t it?”

  I hesitated a moment before asking her, “What did you study?”

  There was a brief flash of something on her face before she answered. Wistfulness, perhaps? “I have a Master’s Degree in English Literature, if you can believe it.”

  I just stared at her. I wasn’t sure if she was messing with me or not at the moment. She wasn’t looking at me, but over at the wall now, where one of the certificates, presumably hers, hung. She glanced back over at me, and there was a flash of teeth as she broke into a grin.

  “What’s with that look?” she asked me.

  “I just–” I paused a moment, trying to sort through the confusing jumble of feelings bubbling up in my brain. “I don’t know why, but that’s surprising to me?”

  She stuck the tip of her tongue out at me and lightly bopped me on the shoulder with her fist. “You’re the one to blame for it.”

  “I am?” I asked, honestly bewildered at the moment.

  She nodded smoothly and tucked some loose hairs behind one ear. “Yeah. I actually dropped out of high school a few months after getting my powers. Things were…” Her face darkened. “...Pretty bad for me, there, for a while. I was on a real self-destructive blitz, both in and out of costume. We met during the spring of that year. When I got to know you a bit better, and when we became friends, you basically strong-armed me into going back to school, but online.”

  I finished up my burrito while she explained how we’d met, and the events leading up to her leaving the Undersiders, and then becoming a hero.

  “...Anyway, I wound up graduating High School early, and Victoria suggested I enroll in BBU with her and Amy. Turns out when you’re able to study at your own pace and attend classes virtually, you can get a degree program done pretty quickly, given the proper motivation.”

  “What was the motivation, though?” I asked her. “Just because it’s free doesn’t seem like it’s a good motivator to go to college when you have so much else going on in your life?”

  For the first time since I’d met her, Taylor’s confidence and presence faltered, and she swallowed. She held her chest and coughed, then cleared her throat. A smile crossed her lips, and she was back again. “My mom passed away the year before we met, and she had been a university teacher at BBU. I originally started studying Eng-Lit because that was what she taught, but I found that I had a really intense love of the material, so I followed through and got both of my degrees in it.”

  I dropped my gaze to the crumbs on my plate. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  She leaned over and bumped my shoulder with her own. “Don’t worry about it, Morgan. You didn’t know. But yeah, that’s why I studied that of all things. Most capes study the legal field, or law enforcement-related stuff, or Parahuman Studies. Parahuman Studies is what Victoria takes.”

  I toyed with my thumb in my lap. “I don’t see how I’m involved in any of that, though, at least, from what you told me.”

  Taylor chuckled and grabbed another burrito from the stack. “You helped me divorce my hatred of being in school with my bullies from my enjoyment of learning. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I hated going to high school and thought I’d never do any other educational stuff in life. You getting me a laptop and working with Carol to get me into online classes allowed me to realize that I didn’t have a problem with school, just with the people I was forced to attend school with.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat and tried to get past the tightness in my chest. It was bothering me that she was crediting me with her personal successes. I wasn’t there for any of it; she did all of that on her own. It was like receiving a participation award, or something.

  A silence lingered in the air, like the awkwardness was oozing out of me and contaminating the shared space between us.

  Taylor picked up on it and paused in the middle of demolishing her burrito. “Did I say something?”

  “I just…” I debated just keeping it to myself. It was negativity that wasn’t helpful in any way.

  She nudged my side with her elbow, and I sighed.

  “It makes me feel weird that you credit me for any of it, is all. I wasn’t there. You did all the work, you earned it all on your own.”

  Taylor set her burrito down and turned toward me somewhat. “I didn’t mean to upset you, if I did, but I was being honest with you, Morgan. I don’t think I would have graduated from high school if it weren’t for your presence in my life. I’d almost certainly not be a hero; I’d probably be in prison right now. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I was heading down a really dark path.”

  “Is that why you…” I gestured over her form with one hand. “Did the tattoo thing?”

  She gave me a long look, then tossed her head back and laughed.

  I blushed, suddenly feeling like I’d asked an incredibly stupid question.

  Taylor rubbed her cheeks with her palms and calmed herself down after having a good laugh. Turning back to me, she smiled broadly. “No. I got my first ink to remember some friends I’d lost, and went on from there to memorialize other things. Some good, some bad, but each of these…” she trailed her fingers over one inked-up arm “...commemorates something important to me, or in my life. The collection has grown over the years, partly because I like the look, and partly because I enjoy the experience of getting them.”

  I glanced up at her. “Aren’t they rather painful?”

  She nodded seriously to me. “Oh, yes, very. It depends a lot on the location, but that’s part of the appeal. It’s…” She paused a moment and glanced upwards. “It’s a form of catharsis, really. Every so often, I’ll backslide and wind up having a self-destructive urge, you know? This is a way for me to scratch that itch, but in a way that’s constructive and meaningful.”

  I chuckled a little, feeling a touch of the negativity still lingering around. “That sounds like therapist-speak.”

  That got a broad grin out of her. “It probably is. I’d be lying if I said that it hasn’t been a big part of my life over the years.”

  “I only remember… echoes. Talking about things, but not what, or to who, or even when.”

  “Well. You told me that you felt like your former therapist saved your life, before. That I should see her. So I did, although I fully admit it wasn’t entirely voluntary to start with. It was voluntary for me to continue seeing her, though. And I’m glad I did!”

  Taylor picked up her burrito and resumed eating, and I nodded, half in response to what she’d said, and half to myself.

  We chatted some more while she finished eating, but on less serious topics.

  I felt like I was being quiet and not contributing much, but I was sort of lost in my own head and in the messy soup of my feelings. While we’d been talking, sometimes things would resonate, and a feeling would pop up. The issue was that I didn’t know anything, but the surface association, and sometimes the feelings didn’t really make any sense to me. A feeling of apprehension when we discussed something silly, or a feeling of longing when we talked about something mundane. Some drifted away pretty quickly, but others stuck around, and over the course of an extended brunch, I was left feeling awash in a mess of emotional pushes and pulls that left me confused and no small amount frustrated.

  I helped Taylor clean up, not that it was terribly difficult. A quick rinse of some dishes, loading a fancy-looking dishwasher, and putting some odds and ends away in the cabinets that populated the kitchen.

  When we wrapped up, I felt like giving Taylor a hug, and she readily accepted it, seemingly content to simply hold me in her arms. I felt like she was a firm anchor in this space and time, where I felt like an outsider. Her arms around me helped ground me in place. I explained to her how I was feeling, and she just squeezed me firmly and rested her chin on my head.

  The headache I’d woken up with was still lingering, but to a lesser degree than it’d been earlier. I think eating helped.

  My voice was slightly muffled against her chest when I broke the long silence. “We should get dressed and get going. All that stuff I have left to do isn’t going to do itself.”

  Her voice was soft when she replied, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Morgan. If all you want to do is lie around and rest all day, you do just that. The rest can wait; you’re not obligated to do anything right now.”

  As much as lying next to her sounded appealing, I shook my head. I’d lain in bed so much in the past weeks that I felt the need to get out and do things, regardless of the nagging headache.

  “Mmf. No, I need to get stuff done. I think once I get moving, I’ll be in the opposite mood and want to be productive.”

  She took me by the shoulders and peeled me away. She had another one of those seemingly ever-present, slight grins teasing her lips as she looked down at me. “That’s the spirit! Let’s get out there and kick ass, then!”

  I sighed loudly and agreed. “Yeah. Let me go get my stuff ready, and then I’ll be all set.” We separated, and I headed back to the spare room to collect a few odds and ends. It didn’t take long, and I made sure not to linger overlong in front of the mirror, stressing myself out with my looks. I decided to forgo putting on cosmetics, opting to keep things simple today. It was a glorified shopping and errands run. Despite feeling eminently self-conscious about it, I was trying to take Tessa’s advice and embrace the way I looked.

  It was far easier said than done.

  I came back out into the living area to see Taylor pacing around with her phone held to her ear, speaking quietly in a somewhat aggravated-sounding tone. She gave me a quick smile when she saw me, then said a few more things into her phone before hanging up. Flicking her hair behind her shoulder, she sighed loudly and turned to face me.

  “So, I hate to be the stereotype here, but I have to go in for something I can’t talk about.”

  I stood there a moment, processing.

  Hero stuff. It has to be important if she’s on vacation and they’re still calling her in. It’s easy to forget that she’s a hero.

  “Do you want to take a rain check?” She asked tentatively, feeling out my response to the news.

  As tempting as it was to say yes and just relax in the luxurious place she and Amy shared, I knew that if I didn’t motivate myself to go do things, then I’d likely fall into a comfortable torpor.

  “Um, no, that’s okay. It’s just some shopping, I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own. Plus, it lets me explore the city on my own. I do need to get to know things again.”

  She gave me a tight smile. “I’m really sorry. It’s one of the biggest downsides of this life. It doesn’t respect boundaries and paid time off requests.”

  I held my hand up. “No, really. It’s okay. I’d feel bad if you put off doing important things for my sake, so please, go do what you need to do. I’m assuming it’s hero stuff, so I’m going to say that it’s obviously important.”

  She chuckled. “You’re not wrong. I still feel bad, but I’ll do my best to make it up to you. You have our numbers, plus Dragon’s number. If you need anything, call us, please?”

  I promised I would, and Taylor hurried off in the direction of her secret lair inside the apartment. I had everything that I needed already, so I left the apartment and called the elevator.

  Sunshine and a warm breeze greeted me when I stepped out of the building at street level. I already had the first destination that I wanted to go to plugged into my phone, which would give me turn-by-turn directions on how to get there.

  Squaring up my shoulders, I did my best attempt at channeling the Morgan I’d seen in photos and videos, and started walking. Shopping and a little tourism in the city I called home? I could handle this.

  A little nagging voice in the back of my head reminded me that it wasn’t a matter of being able to handle it comfortably, but rather a necessity, should I wish to try and be an independent adult and retake control of my own life.