บท 15: Chapter 15: Hashing Things Out
Guardian
a Worm/Destiny Crossover
Chapter 15: Hashing Things Out
The field was set. Cubes of ice clinked gently in tall, sweating glasses. Snacks were piled in bowls scattered across the surface of the kitchen table. The radio was set to an easy listening station, smooth music piping in quiet from the old battery-powered box. The field was set. Taylor was sitting on one side, having changed into some sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt, and Sabah and her dad were on the other. The light hanging over the table swayed gently from where her dad had hit his head as he sat down. The field was set, and they could begin. If only she could figure out how. Silence stretched out as she came up with and discarded opening statements, leading into minutes as each failure drove her towards complete panic. She dropped her gaze to the glass between her hands.
"Sweetie?" Her dad's voice dragged her eyes up. She saw impatience in his eyes – not a lot, but enough to prompt him to action – as well as understanding and a small amount of humor. "You maybe wanna fill Sabah an' me here in?"
"Yeah. Just trying to decide where to start."
Sabah snarfed down a pretzel or two, chased it with a gulp of iced tea, and set the glass down with a clunk before drawling, "How about you start with whoever the fu – um, heck – T is." Taylor wasn't aware her friend was capable of censoring herself, let alone willing to do it. She put that thought aside to answer.
"Tattletale. She said her name was Tattletale."
Mouth pursed thoughtfully, Sabah leaned back in her chair. "Huh."
"You know her?" Her dad directed an inquisitive gaze at the older girl, who shrugged.
"Know of her, more like. Story is she's a rogue not unlike myself. Stays out of the fighting as best she can, makes money by offering what she calls 'insights' for a not inconsiderable fee. And uh, this is only a rumor, but...apparently she's pulling all this money together for something big."
That rumormonger was spot on , Taylor thought, before nodding. "That's her. She approached me because she is putting something together, and that something is a team."
Sabah gasped, hands flying to her mouth and eyes going wide. Behind her fingers, Taylor could see the beginnings of a wide smile. "Is my little baby Guardian being recruited?! "
"Yeah."
The smile dropped. "You don't sound pleased."
Her dad popped back into the flow of the conversation. "Should she be? As I understand it, there's really only a few groups in the city who are looking for new members, and none of them are on the right side of the law for Taylor."
She dismissed the pang of irritation that rose from being spoken about as if not present. "It's not recruitment per se, it's... she wants me to help her form or – or found a team, whatever the right word is. Get in on the ground floor, was how she put it." Though she wasn't sure Tattletale had actually said that.
From Sabah. "And what exactly is the purpose of this new team of hers?"
Here we go , Taylor thought, before answering. "To hunt down and kill every cape with a kill order, then collect the bounties." She expected an explosion of worry-born anger, protests, and outright demands to refuse. What she didn't expect was absolute silence, save for the quiet, breaking-cracker sound of a pretzel falling out of her dad's mouth.
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"Sabah," her dad turned to ask, "This Tattletale person. Why didn't you lead with how she's out of her fucking mind!?" He wasn't quite shouting, but it was close enough – and her ears were sensitive enough – to elicit a minor but noticeable startle. From both her and Sabah. Shame crossed her dad's face, and he gusted a breath out his nose. "Sorry, girls. I didn't mean to shout."
"No, no," Sabah waved the apology away. "I kinda wanna shout, too. This is bugnuts. Like, on a scale of one to ten – this idea needs freaking exponents. It's crazy. You know it's crazy, right?" She directed this to Taylor, who apparently wasn't fast enough in agreeing. "You don't? Why not?"
Taylor lifted her shoulders, holding them for a moment before letting them drop. "Because I kind of think she'sright." Talking quietly and very fast had gotten her out of trouble in the past, so why shouldn't it work now?
Because he finally wised up, that's why. Her dad caught and parsed her high speed answer almost as fast as she'd delivered it. "You agree with this girl?"
"Well...yeah. She had this notion about how we – like, capes and people in general, I guess – just gave up on trying to stop these guys. We just quit. Like we don't even think it's possible anymore, they're just invincible now. Don't even bother, skip to hiding in fear. They win, end of story."
"People did try though, Taylor." Sabah's eyes were almost black in the dim light, and very serious. "Everyone who tried, everyone who fought, everyone who stood their ground died. And they died in the worst ways imaginable."
"Ted Bundy didn't kill women and have sex with their bodies?" Taylor's blood was rising, defending an idea she wasn't at all sure about. Which was odd. "Ed Gein didn't fucking eat people? Where are those guys? Dead, that's where. Because someone found them and stopped them."
Her dad cut over Sabah's opening mouth. "Bundy couldn't fly, sweetie. Or turn your bones into acid or lock you in a torture loop forever. Or set the air in your lungs on fire. Those were just people. Horrible, evil people, yes, but people. These guys are not. They're...monsters."
Monsters. The word resonated with her. In a way that went deep. Like a fundamental truth, only not quite. "Yeah, they are. And that's why they need to be stopped."
"I'm not disagreeing with you. About that. My problem is that my sixteen year old daughter wants to be the one to do it!"
"Whoa!" Sabah cut in, making a T with her hands. "Time out, Heberts. Getting a little off track, I think. Well, maybe not, but...I gotta wonder why you told us this at all. Crazy idea aside, if you were going to do it you would have." It was a weird to have someone just say something like that about her with confidence. It was even weirder because Sabah was right.
"I..." Taylor went back to looking at her hands. "I wanted to say yes, right then and there in that stinky ex-McDonald's. I wanted to really, really badly. So much it scared me, a little bit."
Her dad still appeared to be getting himself back under control, so it was Sabah who snapped her fingers and pointed. "Could this be a Guardian thing? Like, part and parcel of the whole deal?"
"It is." She could say that with certainty, because she knew the truth of it down to her bones. "It's exactly what being a Guardian is about. Which is, you know, reassuring."
"You're telling me." Her dad's mood was darkening rapidly. His arms were crossed and his head lowered. She knew that look. He wasn't going to let this go easy.
"So...uh, now what?" Sabah was looking between her and her dad, apprehension slowly appearing on her face. "We've established that this somewhat suicidal urge of yours comes from being a Guardian, so that's that nailed down."
"Yes," Taylor wanted to put her head in her hands. Or maybe throw something. This was going exactly as well as she thought. "Except I already knew that. But I'm glad we're all on the same page."
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"Don't get snippy with me, missy," Sabah's eyes flashed. "I'm not the one with the crazy idea."
"It's not my idea!" Though, as established, Taylor was thoroughly tempted to sign on. "It's Tattletale's. She just wants –"
Her dad's raised hand cut her off. "Now we really are going in circles. We know what she wants to do, and she's to be applauded for wanting to do it. Trying to drag you into it, on the other hand..." he growled, low in his throat, quiet enough that only he and Taylor could tell. "it's a little...upsetting. I don't know what you want me to say, here." He shook his head, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "I can't say 'go for it'."
This was not what she'd been looking for, though it also was. She'd been hoping for perspective, someone to talk this through with and not making a decision either way. It had been a partial success. The talking part, at least, was going swimmingly. Somehow, and she wasn't quite sure, decisions had been made and the sides drawn up. "That's not what I'm asking you to do!"
Sabah lifted her hands, a gesture of helplessness. "Then what are you asking for, 'cuz if it's not that, I'm confused."
Taylor scrubbed her hands through her hair, dragging them down her face. "I told her I needed to think. That I needed time to make my decision and to run it past some people – I didn't say who, don't worry – and I'd let her know. I guess I'm asking for perspective. And I...guess I'm getting it."
"Yep." Her dad looked calmer now, though not nearly close to actual 'calm'. "The perspective is that this idea is insane. A good idea, but insane." He sighed. "But you want to do it." She could only nod. "...Great. I need a drink."
Silence fell again. He got up and went into the kitchen. Sabah chewed pensively on a potato chip. Taylor drank some of her tea, the ice having almost melted away. The kitchen radio switched tracks. She wished they could do likewise.
When he came back from the kitchen, a brown bottle of some local beer in hand, he dropped heavily into his chair. It skidded an inch or so across the linoleum, a rattling, groaning sound that was incredibly loud in the loaded silence. He took a sip, placed it down, and then, "I bet if someone told their parents they wanted to join the army, they'd react a lot like this." He shrugged. "Because when it comes right down to it, where any parent would come from is that they don't ever, ever, ever want to consider the idea that they might outlive their child."
"Heavy." Sabah's commiseration came from over her glass, which she was now holding in front of her as if it were a shield. Her look of discomfort was growing by the moment, and Taylor was beginning to wonder if she'd been smart in dragging her friend into this.
Her dad's words hung in the air. There was nothing she could say. No platitudes or promises could possibly bear up against the weight of the very real possibility that he brought up. It tore at her, the open fear in his words, and she knew then what had driven his every word since they sat down however long ago it was. She didn't...she didn't know what to do. To say it had never occurred to her would be a lie, but it had seemed strangely distant, the possibility that she could die. Not anymore. It was real and naked and on the table in front of her. No matter how much she wanted to do this, there was a more than decent chance it'd be the last thing she'd ever do. "I...dad, I don't know what you want me to say."
He offered a small, weary smile that left far too quickly. "That you'll say no and go back to being the best hero in the city?" He sighed. "I think we've gotten as far as we can tonight. Let's just...take a step back from all this." Turned to Sabah. "You gonna be okay getting home?"
Taylor wanted to wince at the relief in her friend's eyes. Sabah shook her head, gathering up her things with remarkable speed. Yeah, inviting her hadn't been smart. Damn it. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's not far to the bus from here, and my apartment's about half a block from my stop, so..." she shrugged. "Besides, I'm a badass. Ain't nobody gonna mess with me."
That brought a smile to Taylor's face. "True, true. I'll...talk to you later?"
Sabah nodded, flashing a quick, fierce smile. "You betcha. Later, Taylor, Mr. Hebert." With that, she left. And then there were two.
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Not long after Sabah left, Taylor retreated to her room. Her dad had let her go without saying a word. As she went upstairs she heard the TV flick on and the volume turned down until it was nothing more than a dull mumble to her ears. The creak of shifting leather as he shifted position in his chair was almost too loud by comparison. She shut her bedroom door behind her and slumped against it. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. It had been a long day, to put it lightly. Fumbling for the light switch, missing, and giving it up for a bad job, she stumbled to her bed and threw herself onto it. After a bit of rolling and bouncing, she ended up more or less properly oriented. Her phone was dug out of her pocket and tossed onto her nightstand, after which she just lay there and looked at her ceiling.
And she hadn't even brought up how she was thinking that she was maybe, possibly, probably gay. For the best, she decided. There were only so many bombshells her fragile house could take in one day.
She didn't know how long she lay there in the dark. Well, she did, because the clock radio next to her phone told her. So half an hour of quiet and separation had her realizing that, general and emotional exhaustion aside, things had gone pretty well tonight. The screaming had been kept to a minimum, no ultimatums were dropped, and she hadn't run away from home. Buoyed by that thought, she managed to wiggle out of her clothes, throw them somewhere and ferret out her pajamas from where she'd left them this morning – under her comforter. After that, she kicked the loose blanket down by her feet and stretched. Her muscles burned pleasantly as she held herself still for half a minute, then she flopped back onto her mattress.
I am so tired of talking, she thought as her mind spun 'round and 'round, too active for the fatigue pressing down on her to carry her off to sleep. She didn't want to think anymore, she'd been doing it all day. There had to be a line, frankly, and there was one. Her dad had drawn it and she wanted to respect it, she really did, it was just that her brain just wouldn't shut off! From Tattletale's lovely, lovely legs to the offer she'd made Taylor to how she wanted to hop on board the crazy train so much it scared her. Which was the crux of the matter, she supposed. It wasn't wanting to, it wasn't knowing why she wanted to, it was that she was fine with it. All of it. From killing to knowing she might die.
It was terrifying, and though she'd covered a ground not dissimilar from this when Ghost was alive, it was just as visceral a feeling as back then. Sleep would be a long time coming, if it did at all.
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Well, she'd been wrong. She had slept last night. Not a lot, and not well, but still. Enough to function. Well, maybe not. Bottom line – she was awake. And kinda reluctant to go downstairs. She wasn't afraid, not really, but she didn't want to walk down into another tense, awkward conversation. There was a limit, you know? Only a certain number of those per day, and it just so happened that hers had been reached just eight short hours ago. Her reluctance to leave the safety of her room came from how little the random quirks of life cared about what she was willing to deal with this morning. Plus, her dad wasn't even awake, she would have heard him, so there was no reason for her to...stay up here and hide.
With a sigh, she levered herself up out of her warm bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She hated being defeated by her own thought processes. She scrubbed at the sleep in her eyes and, when that didn't help, splashed a double-handful of cold water on her face. That did it. Now very alert, she went about her morning routine – complete with scratches and stretches – dug some clean clothes out of her dresser, threw them on, and headed downstairs. The kitchen/dining room still bore the evidence of last night's talk and so she went about clearing it up. She dumped the glasses, tossed out what was left of the snacks, and had gotten everything more or less squared away. It was while she was deciding on which brand of cereal would be better for a lazy-girl breakfast when she was joined by a groggy and less-than-aware version of her dad. "Morning, dad." She delivered the greeting quietly, though she wasn't sure why.
Her dad grunted in response, tantamount to a Good morning, Taylor, and shuffled over to the coffeepot. It must have been the power of sheer habit that guided him through the process, because his eyes were mostly closed and she wasn't sure he was actually, totally awake. She took her bowl of cereal to the table, and without meaning to she ended up in the same seat she'd been in earlier. A moment and a spoonful of Frosted Flakes later, and her dad dropped into the seat across from her. He took a long, slurping sip of his coffee, steam condensing into a brief fog across his glasses, and sighed. There was a quietness in the kitchen then, broken only by the scooping clatter of her spoon against the bowl and her dad's slurps and sighs. Maybe it was awkward, maybe it was only Taylor who felt awkward. Either way, the silence weighed heavier and heavier until she felt compelled to say something.
There was a small problem, though. What on Earth was she supposed to say? Hey, sorry about last night and all that stress I added to your already stressful life. I don't mean to, really, but...and then she would shrug helplessly. Okay, so maybe she shouldn't say that, and also should put a halt to the pity-party she was starting to organize for herself. Luckily, or maybe not, the coffee served its purpose and woke her dad up enough for him to be capable of human speech. "Okay," he sniffed. "I'm awake now."
She mumbled into her cereal bowl, "I'll call channel 6."
He gave a single, close-mouthed laugh, more a snort than anything. "Well, since you fed yourself, I get to have my very special salsa-and-eggs omelet all to myself."
"But!"
"Nope, not sharing. Sorry!"
"But!"
"Can't hear you, sweetie, I'm cooking in here!"
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After her dad had evilly, cruelly, and spitefully not shared one bite of his delicious smelling breakfast, she made him do the dishes by employing a simple and convenient avoidance technique: by leaving them behind and going to pout in a dignified sprawl on the living room couch. To retaliate he sang songs from his favorite 80s musicals, off-key and at a volume that could charitably be called 'deafening'. It wasn't a typical morning, but it was close to the ones she remembered from a few years ago. Only Taylor's mom had been there singing just as badly and with just as much enthusiasm as her husband. After he was done torturing his only daughter, he came into the living room to pick up her feet and take their space on the couch, placing them on his lap after.
She informed him of the current state of events. "I'm not speaking to you right now."
He laughed. "Sorry, my pipes are a little rusty. I'll do better next time."
This was bad, and alarming enough, for her to make a liar of herself not six seconds later. She lifted her head up to glare at him and say, "Don't you dare. I'll...I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it. Count on it."
He tugged her big toe and smiled. Then, after a few minutes of companionable silence, ruined everything. "So about what we were discussing last night." A pit opened in her stomach, and out of it crawled a barbed-wire ball of anxiety. She said nothing, only nodded. "I stand by what I said, I can't give you permission or approval. It's not...I just can't. But I know this is important. I know it – I know you really want to, and I know that the fact you brought this to me instead of hiding it makes me so unbelievably proud of you. And I know that, if you decide to do this, you'll do more than be good at it. You'd be great. So while I can't say yes, I'm not going to say don't. So...um...that's – that's about it. I love you, baby girl. Never doubt it."
She threw herself into a hug, burying her face in his chest, mumbling that she loved him, too in his shirt.
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Taylor stared at her phone, the number she'd memorized was punched in, and her thumb hovered over the green button. Here it was. "Moment of truth." She spoke to no one, and her thumb dropped. It rang once.
Twice.
"Hey hey hey, Guardian! What's the word?"
Her voice was calm. She was calm. "I'm in."
She could hear the smile in Tattletale's voice when the other girl responded. "Excellent!"
=+= Chapter 15: Hashing Things Out =+=
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