The Slippery Slope Pt 18 (Patreon)

[A/N: This chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

February 14, 2011
Medhall Building
4:56 PM

I checked my watch again, then put my hands behind my back to forestall temptation. Peter was due to pick me up in the Medhall drive-through at five; not wanting to keep him waiting, I had been ready for the last fifteen minutes. Cassie had loaned me one of her nicer dresses and helped me do my hair, all the while teasing me about Peter. But now I was the one waiting, and he wasn't here.

I doubted that he would stand me up; the idea was slightly less likely than the entirety of Brockton Bay sliding into the ocean, so I wasn't worried. But time was passing so slowly. I wanted to be out with Peter, to do whatever he had planned for our first Valentine's Day together. That was how he had described it; like a bonus piece of chocolate discovered at the bottom of the box, that one extra word had made the phrase so much better. 'Our first Valentine's Day together'. Like he had taken it for granted that we would be together for many more. I was more than all right with that idea.

“Taylor.” I knew that voice; nobody else in the Empire had quite those smooth, rich cadences. It was my boss, Peter's uncle. The man to whom I owed so much. I turned to greet him with a smile, automatically smoothing down Cassie's dress with my hands as I did so.

“Mr Anders,” I said in reply. “How are you, sir?” I bobbed my head in respect. He was well-dressed as always in a suit and tie, the shoes shined to a mirror finish. I wasn't sure how he always managed to pull off that look, but he carried it very well indeed.

“I'm well,” he said. “I trust that you are settling in comfortably?” The look in his eye indicated to me that he wasn't just asking an idle question. He really wanted me to be settled in comfortably. A warm feeling spread through my chest.

“Oh, yes,” I told him. “Everyone's been so good to me.” I didn't need to mention Peter. If everyone in the Empire didn't know about me and Peter, then it was because they weren't cleared to know. “Thank you for asking.”

“That's entirely all right.” He paused, and his gaze became much more intense. “Tell me, do you know how many firearms there are within fifty feet of us right now?”

“Oh, uh -” I dipped into my power, absorbed the information, then dropped them again. “- seventeen, sir. Two assault rifles, fifteen pistols.”

“Indeed.” I began to feel a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “One more question. Did you know that before I asked?”

Oh. Oh. I flushed, feeling like an idiot. “No, sir,” I mumbled, dropping my head. “I wasn't checking.”

He raised one immaculate eyebrow. “And just because you're going on a date with my nephew, do you perhaps think that anyone harbouring ill intentions toward the Empire is going to lay off on you?” His tone was as smooth as ever, but the words cut deeply. It was a real wake-up call.

“Uh, no. No, sir.” Before he walked up, I'd been on top of the world. Now I felt about one inch tall. “I'll do better, sir.”

“I know you will, Taylor.” He smiled briefly and squeezed my shoulder. “You're new to this, but I have great expectations for you. Enjoy your evening.” Turning, he walked back into the building, leaving me in a turmoil of emotions.

Holy crap. Max Anders was the sort of boss that I'd never known I wanted. He could have been a lot nastier about it, but once he pointed out my mistake and I acknowledged where I had gone wrong, it was as if a switch had been flipped. He'd said he had great expectations for me. I wanted to dance in a circle, or squee to the rooftops that Mr Anders – Kaiser himself – had said nice things about me, to my face.

Taking a deep breath, I composed myself. Then I called on my powers in an attempt to get a complete picture of the surrounding area as quickly as I could before dropping them again. I didn't spot anything untoward, but I did detect a familiar-looking truck as it approached the building. Peter's here! Yay! I was glad that they'd repaired the truck for him rather than simply scrapping it and buying a new one; during the battle with Lung and afterward, it had served us well.

When he pulled up in the drive-through, I was waiting at the curb. He set the handbrake and got out of the vehicle so that he could open the door for me, although we both knew perfectly well that I was more capable of doing that – or, for that matter, driving the truck itself – than he was. However, he wanted to do that for me, and I wanted to let him, so that's what we were going to do.

“Hi, Taylor.” He smiled and kissed me, almost but not quite on the cheek. “You look lovely tonight.”

I hugged him and returned the kiss as the blush started to mount in my cheeks. He had a way of doing that with his compliments; it made them seem fresh and new every time. Maybe it was the fact that he meant it, and I knew that he did. Whatever the reason, I wasn't about to complain. Besides, he looked extremely sharp in slacks and a button-down shirt. “You look nice too,” I murmured as I held him close.

“Thank you, Taylor. I'll definitely take that from you.” Letting me go, he captured my right hand with his left and with a flourish, opened up the passenger side door. “Your carriage awaits, my dear.”

With a giggle, I let him hand me in, careful to settle my skirt so that the door would not close on it. “Thank you, sir.” Reminded of his uncle's words, I pulled up my powers for an instant and checked for nearby threats. There were none; before he got back around to his side of the truck, I had dropped my powers once more.

“So where are we going?” I asked as he climbed in. “I'm still not sure that the police won't get involved if I'm recognised.”

“I've got a place in mind,” he said; from the look and sound of it, he was rather pleased with himself.

“Oh? Where?” He didn't answer, so I looked at him sideways. “You're not going to tell me, are you?”

Putting the truck in gear, he started it moving. “What good is a surprise if it isn't surprising?” he asked cheerfully.

Although curious, I knew Peter well enough by now to understand that he wouldn't give me any hints if he didn't want to. And while pretending to badger him for answers would be fun for both of us, I decided not to do that. Reaching out to put my hand on his where it rested on the wheel, I decided to just relax and enjoy the evening.

<><>

Coil

Thomas Calvert had decided to change things up. In the one timeline, he was at home with the TV on, ostensibly catching up on his favourite shows. However, he had his laptop open in front of him, with the best secure connection that money could buy linked into his base computer system. His men were out and about on their latest mission, which was to trail Peter Ferguson whenever the boy left the Willow Heights gated community.

In the other timeline, he was in the base, digging deep into all of the online resources that he could locate in order to create a more complete picture of his foe. In this particular case, the foe was the Empire Eighty-Eight and Taylor Hebert in no particular order; together, they posed a far greater problem for him than they did apart. His first order of business was to figure out a way to separate them permanently from one other. Second was to work out a way to acquire Taylor's father, so as to bind the Hebert girl permanently into his service.

The men following Peter reported that he had just gone through the Medhall building drive-through, and now there seemed to be a second person in the truck. Positive identification had not yet been made, but there was a distinct possibility that it was the Hebert girl. This raised a whole string of possibilities in Calvert's mind; if it was indeed her, then she was staying at the Medhall building. Which meant that the Empire had an interest in the Medhall corporation.

Calvert followed the thought to its logical conclusion. In the other timeline, his counterpart feverishly pulled up all the information that he had been able to glean about the Empire's activities, then he matched it to what he knew about Max Anders, head of Medhall. If Calvert turned his head and squinted slightly, Kaiser could easily be Max Anders in a suit of armour. Purity, his second in command, had recently split from the Empire … and around the same time, Kayden Anders had separated from her husband of a year.

It fits. It all fits.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in his chair in both realities at once. All too well, he knew the dangers of allowing wish-fulfilment to colour his perceptions of how the facts fit together. Coincidences happened, and just because something looked right didn't mean that it was right. In the reality where his mercenaries were following the Ferguson kid's truck, he picked up a notepad and scribbled a memo to himself. Then he adjusted his headset microphone. “Alpha Squad, move in. I want imagery. Get closer, but do not engage, over.”

The reply was swift in coming. “Alpha Squad, moving in for imagery. Acknowledging do not engage, over.”

The mission consisted of three squads, each made up of three cars. As the initial group, the men and women of Alpha Squad were intended to determine if Taylor Hebert could detect electronic chatter with her powers. Calvert had given them very specific orders before sending them out; while they were to get close to the target vehicle, they were not to bring any weapons along or perform any hostile activity. Bravo and Charlie Squads were well-armed, but only Bravo was intended to do anything with their weapons.

Each car was equipped with a dash-cam. Calvert watched the split-screen closely as the vehicles of Alpha Squad eased into position. One of the pictures swivelled sideways as the mercenary moved the dash-cam so that it was pointed at an angle. Just a moment later, the rear end of Peter Ferguson's truck came into view; as the car moved up, the rear window passed by the camera, and then the front window. Calvert stared at the image, unable to make it out for a second. And then the girl in the front seat turned her head, and Thomas Calvert was looking at Taylor Hebert.

“Yes,” he muttered to himself in the other reality, then glanced around to make sure nobody had heard him. He usually didn't carry over behaviour from one reality to the other, but sometimes his excitement got the better of him. In this particular instance, there was nobody nearby, which was good; he had yet to decide which timeline to drop, and he preferred it be the one where he wasn't seen acting oddly.

Alpha Squad still held its position near Peter Ferguson's truck; for a moment, he considered giving the order to run the vehicle off the road and capture both of them. Then he thought better of the idea; while the girl probably didn't go armed, the Ferguson boy certainly did. In any case, she didn't need a weapon if she could control vehicles as well as Calvert suspected that she could. It was better to stick with the information gathering and let the capture happen in its own time.

“Alpha Squad, remain in position,” he ordered. “I say again, Alpha Squad is to remain in position. Bravo Squad, move in. Do not engage target until ordered. Charlie Squad, maintain relative separation from target, over.”

“Alpha Squad copies. Maintaining position, over.”

“Bravo Squad, that's a roger. Moving in, over.”

“Charlie Squad, roger. Maintaining separation from target.”

Sitting in his living room chair, Calvert re-adjusted his headset mic and carefully eyed the images he had of Ferguson's truck. It only took about ten seconds for Taylor Hebert to turn her head and speak to Ferguson. The truck moved ahead, its indicator coming on before it swung into the turning lane. For all his youth, Ferguson judged it to a nicety; as if he had set it up that way, they came up on the intersection just as the light turned green and he swung around to the left. Calvert's lips thinned as he saw two of the three cameras lose their picture of the truck.

“Alpha lead, Alpha lead, I'm out of position. Alpha Two, Alpha Three, say location, over?”

“Alpha Three, I'm on his six, following, over.”

“Alpha Two, I've got nothing. Moving to reacquire, over.”

“Charlie Squad, we've just lost line of sight, over.”

“Bravo Squad, still closing, over.”

He keyed the mic. “Charlie Squad, take the next left, over. Alpha Lead, Alpha Two, reacquire as soon as possible, over.”

Leaning back, he sighed. Ferguson's manoeuvre had scraped off two of the Alpha chase cars, but that was an accidental byproduct. His guess was that the Hebert girl had detected the cars full of heavily armed men and women closing on her position and told her companion. Ferguson had made the turn so as to determine if the cars were really following them, which they were; Calvert wanted to see what happened next.

He tapped keys and enlarged the scrolling map so that it covered half the screen; here and there on the map, highlighted dots indicated the positions of the cars. A click of the mouse centred the map on Alpha Three, the one car that had been able to maintain its proximity to Ferguson's truck. Bravo Squad had made the turn and were in the process of manoeuvring through traffic to get close to the target. Charlie Squad, on the other hand, were about one and a half blocks removed from the action. This was intentional; among other things, he wanted to see how she reacted to non-threatening but potential danger. Also, getting a better idea of her overall range would be a good idea in any scenario where he was to attempt capture of her.

“Alpha Three. Target is turning right right right. Sticking with him, but he's accelerating. Orders, over?”

This was not good. Ferguson's second turn had just put Charlie Squad out of position and ruined the attempt of Alpha Lead and Alpha Two to reacquire as they shot past on the wrong side of the road. As the truck powered away, Charlie Squad's separation increased to two blocks. “Alpha Three, maintain relative position. Charlie Squad, take an immediate right. Bravo Squad, acquire and engage. I say again, acquire and engage. Do you copy, over?”

“Alpha Three copies maintain position, over.”

“Charlie Squad, taking the turn now, over.”

“Bravo Squad, moving to acquire and engage, over.”

Over the radio, he heard the clicks and clacks as the team members pulled bolts and worked slides to ready their weapons. Approximately two seconds later, the view from Alpha Three of the rear of Ferguson's truck began to recede. “Alpha Three. Move up, you're losing ground, over.”

“Alpha Three, here. That's not us. The car engine just cut out. We've got no power, over.”

He had just enough time to register that she had made Alpha Three when shouts, screams and shots echoed through his headset. By the time he looked at the camera views, all three Bravo Squad vehicles were out of action. It seemed that one had rear-ended a passing police car, another had veered into an alley and rammed a dumpster, and the third had simply … pulled over?

No, not just pulled over, he realised a few seconds later, when they reported that the car doors had refused to open. Nor would the engine turn over. They're being held. “Bravo Squad, open your windows and get out that way!” he ordered.

The decision came far too late for the mercenaries in the car. A nondescript SUV swung in to a halt in front of the Bravo Squad vehicle, in full view of the dash cam. Several large men with shaven heads got out and headed toward the mercenaries in a purposeful manner. They went out of sight of the camera; over the radio, Calvert heard the sound of glass shattering. If that wasn't bad enough, he then had to listen to the shouts and screams from his men as they were dragged from the car one by one to be beaten to a pulp on the sidewalk. Or so he presumed, from the screams and ugly sounds that he could hear over the still-operating radio link. His men were tough, but they were still only human. Even the stubbornest soldiers of fortune could have only so many bones broken before they themselves snapped. So Kaiser does still have her tailed, just in case. Good to know.

He keyed his mic. “Charlie Squad, report status, over.”

There was a long silence. Then finally, just as he began to wonder what had happened to them, an answer came back. “This is Charlie Lead. Our cars have just … stopped. Engines are dead. Over.”

Well, that answered that. Her range is more than two and a half blocks. And she's more situationally aware than she was the last time I tried this. This is now officially a problem. And I'm almost done here.

Checking the note he'd written to himself, he thought about what to say, then dialled a number on his phone. It rang exactly once. “Yes, boss?” Tattletale's voice was as irritatingly chirpy as ever.

“One question. Answer yes or no.” His voice was crisp, in command. There was no hint of the irritation of the last few minutes; that had been shunted off to the version of himself that was sitting in the base. “Is Max Anders Kaiser?”

 “Give me a second,” Tattletale replied almost immediately.  He heard computer keys rattling, then a pause.  "Okay ... huh, so he is.  What are you going to do with that information – holy shit, you're going to unmask -”

He dropped that timeline, leaving the one where he was at his computer in the base. No need for Tattletale to know what she's just told me. It was a rather successful ploy that he made regular use of. Sometimes, as in this instance, he didn't even need to use torture to get the information that he needed. Of course, once in a while torture was the point of the exercise.

He split the timeline again. One instance of him got up and prepared to leave the base. The other stayed exactly where it was. He would have a good night's sleep while at the same time he gathered information and planned his next move against Taylor Hebert and the Empire.

I can't help but win. Really, she doesn't stand a chance.

<><>

Taylor

“So … what do you think?” If I didn't know Peter so well, I would have missed the anxious tone in his voice. As it was, I recognised it, but I was too busy blinking to take a well-deserved chance to tease him.

“I … wow.” I stared at the folding table and chairs which had been set up for us on the lookout area atop Captain's Hill. There was a tablecloth, and plates that looked like china, and food in a massive picnic basket, and candles. In a silver holder, even. Still slightly stunned, I watched as a burly leather-jacketed man with a buzz-cut finished lighting the candles with his Zippo. He gave me a nod of respect then backed off to join his buddies.

Reminded of my meeting with Kaiser, I flexed my power for a second; to my relief, the only guns within my range were the ones worn by Peter and the Empire men. The latter were now spreading out to form some sort of perimeter; it was kind of cute how they tried hard to look like tourists admiring the view while they watched the road and the other sight-seers. We weren't the only people up here, of course, but the other couples seemed to understand that we wanted to be left alone.

“How long did it take for you to arrange this?” I asked as he pulled my chair out for me. He knew how to do it properly, too; unlike some, he pushed the chair in just right so that I sat down comfortably. “I mean, wow. I heard nothing about this. Just that you wanted to take me on a date.”

“Since yesterday,” he admitted, with a smile that was just slightly self-conscious. “I asked Uncle Max if I could borrow the guys again, and he asked a few questions. Then the next thing I knew, I had Othala on the line, planning the whole thing out for me. Even the candles.” He glanced at them as they burned steadily in the cool evening air. “I wasn't sure about them, but I'm kinda convinced now. You don't think they're over the top?”

I reached across the table and took his hands. His skin was warm against mine as I squeezed his fingers. “They're perfect, Peter. Everything's perfect.” Careful not to knock the candles, I let go his left hand and waved toward the purple western sky, where the last remnants of sunset still lingered. “You take me to the most beautiful places in Brockton Bay. How can I not love everything about this? About the only way it could be more romantic would be if you were planning to get down on one knee and …” At the look on his face, I trailed off. My heart lurched in my chest. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “Are you going to … do you want to … I mean …”

“Taylor.” His hand squeezed mine. “Breathe.” His smile, although a little strained, settled my racing pulse slightly. Gently, he reached across the table and took hold of my right hand. “It's all right.”

I took in a breath of cool air, slightly flavoured by the scented candles. I don't know how to handle this. I want to marry him, I really do, but I'm too young! “All … right?” I managed.

“I love you, Taylor.” His words were balm to my racing mind. “I did actually think of proposing tonight, but Othala talked me out of it.” Now his smile had a distinctly sardonic quirk to it. “She said something about not freaking you out by moving too fast.”

At first, I felt a little upset that Othala had intruded into my private affairs, but then I took another breath and felt my pulse slow down a little more. “I … think she was right.” My return smile was more than a little sheepish. “I was kinda freaking out just a little there. I'm … well, you know I'm not sixteen yet.”

He squeezed my fingers and gave me that special smile; I felt tingles go all the way down to my toes. “It's okay. I'm only sixteen myself. Father says that we shouldn't rush into adulthood. It's not going anywhere, after all.”

I felt my heart swelling in my chest, and with good reason; his words were just what I needed to hear. “Thanks. I love you too. So very much. How did I end up deserving someone like you?” A tear overflowed my eyelid and ran down my cheek.

His smile widened into a grin. “I seem to recall this girl who kept angrily telling me to go away, when all I wanted to do was help her with a little bullying problem.” Letting go my left hand, he reached into his pocket and passed me a handkerchief.

Carefully I wiped the tear away, then blew my nose. “Stupid allergies,” I muttered, although I knew I wasn't fooling either one of us with my act. “I notice you didn't go away,” I said. “So how did we get from there to here, anyway?”

He shrugged, though his expression became more serious. “I started out just wanting to help, and ended up wanting to take you in my arms and protect you forever.”

I hadn't thought I could fall any more in love with Peter, but at that moment my heart proved me wrong; once more, I found myself sniffling again, with more treacherous tears on my cheeks. “God dammit,” I mumbled. “That line should have been cheesier than … than Mouse Protector's Big Book of Bad Puns. How can you say it like you mean it so much?”

“Because I do,” he said, before his eyes lit up with mischief. “Wait, you had that book?”

Right up until then, I had been totally proud of myself for not blushing even once, but that broke me even more thoroughly than if he had started quoting love poetry at me. I felt the flush start at my neckline and start moving upward at speed. “I, uh, it was a birthday present?” Which I had kept under my pillow for a solid two weeks, but he didn't need to know that.

“Uh huh.” From the way he had his eyebrows raised, he didn't believe me. That wasn't a surprise; between the flush and the limp-noodle excuse, I wouldn't have believed me, either. “Somehow I'm not altogether convinced. You strike me as someone who read it from cover to cover. More than once.”

I was guilty as charged, of course, but he didn't need to know that, either. “Uh, I might have glanced at it once or twice.”

“Really.” His grin was back in full strength as he leaned across the table. “I'm betting there's more to it than that. Am I in the presence of a … Lil' Mousey?”

How is he even doing this? My flush betrayed me; I was reasonably certain that I was glowing harder than the candles. “Uh, maybe?” I mumbled.

He cleared his throat, and in that moment I knew he was going to say something that would complete my transition into the uncontested winner of World's Most Embarrassed Girlfriend. A lifetime title, even. That, or I would spontaneously combust through sheer mortification.

“Oh, come all ye Mouse-fans, wherever ye may be,” he sang, in a voice so clear and rich I almost missed the lyrics themselves.

My first thought – of course he's a great singer – was quickly drowned out with astonishment at what he was actually singing. Almost by habit, I joined in on the second line, although I stumbled a little over the words. By the fourth line, I had caught up, though I had a suspicion that he had slowed down a little to make it easier for me. Whatever; I didn't mind.

Together, we sang the entirety of the anthem for the Lil' Mousey Club, which also doubled – mostly – as the theme song for the Mouse Protector show. “ … just look around, Mouse Protector will be there!” I finished triumphantly, then paused to catch my breath. Peter's eyes were alight, there was more colour in his cheeks than before, and his grin was as broad as mine. I stared at him. “How do you even know that song?” I asked.

Now it was his turn to lie badly. “I, uh, watched the show a few times?” The smile on his lips twitched a few times as he waited for me to catch him out. He was enjoying this, I could tell.

I made a rude noise with my lips. “Bull. You knew the secret verse that only gets sung by Lil' Mouseys.” All of a sudden, the dots connected themselves behind my eyes. “You – you were a Lil' Mousey too!”

“Maybe?” He was bad at being shy about it, and the grin that hovered on his lips didn't help in the slightest. Then he sighed. “Yeah. For a couple of years, then … well, life got in the way. But it was fun while it lasted. I even got an autographed photo of Mouse Protector kicking Ravager's ass. I mean, literally kicking Ravager in the ass.”

I tried to suppress the smirk but it wasn't easy. “I'd love to see that. I got one of her after she stopped Doc Iridium from blowing up the Sears Tower. I'm still not sure how she managed to get the rope over the lamp-post, or dangle him from it by his ankles, but she did it.”

Peter's laughter was infectious; I joined in without a care about my previous embarrassment, quite probably startling the other Valentine's sightseers, but I didn't care. It felt good to laugh, to let my cares just drain away. They would come back once we went back down to the real world, but right now, I was on a date with my boyfriend.

Reflexively, I checked with my power – all clear – then grinned broadly at Peter. “Oh, man. I needed that.”

“Me too.” He snickered. “By his ankles, huh?” Leaning down to open the picnic basket, he pulled out a bowl of chicken pieces, then another of potato salad.

“Yeah. Mmm, thanks.” I accepted plastic cutlery, then dropped chicken and potato on my plate. “And yeah, I read the Big Book so many times, Mom and Dad used to wince every time I opened my mouth. She must've had a ball writing it.” It was one of the few things Emma didn't use against me, mainly because she had been into it just as much as I had.

“I don't think she wrote it, so much as authorised it,” Peter suggested as he took a long-necked bottle and a couple of glasses from the basket. “I think they just took the funniest things she said on camera and put them in a book. Would you like some sparkling apple juice? I know it's not champagne, but I'm pretty sure you don't drink, and I'm driving.”

“Well, no, I don't,” I agreed. “And you're probably right about the book. Though I hope they gave her adequate royalties. Being an independent has got to be expensive. Ooh, gravy, thanks.” I tasted the gravy, my brow wrinkling. “Wait, this tastes familiar.”

He nodded earnestly. “It's the same recipe they use in the Augustus Country Club. I remember how much you liked it.”

For just a moment, I was rendered speechless all over again. He had remembered that? I'd totally forgotten about the delicious gravy – though, reminded about it, my tastebuds were currently jumping up and down – given that my most prominent memory of that Gathering was being beaten up by Peter's ex. Of course, at this moment I was being almost literally wined and dined by Peter, with the same delicious gravy, overlooking the tapestry of lights that was Brockton Bay by night. A candlelight dinner on top of Captain's Hill. Who else even was even lucky enough for something like this?

After I tried and failed to think of an adequate answer that didn't sound like well duh, now gimme the gravy, I gave up and just started spooning gravy over the chicken. “Wow,” I mused. “That was only last month. It feels like longer.”

“Well, a lot has happened,” he pointed out, then suddenly chuckled.

“What?” I asked suspiciously, my fork halted halfway to my mouth with some chicken on it.

He chuckled again. “If someone happened to tell Julie that you're a cape now, I think she'd jump at the option of grovelling for photos rather than face you in your armour.”

He was almost certainly right. I took a bite of the – exquisitely cooked, as it turned out – chicken, savouring the taste of the gravy, then wiped my chin with Peter's handkerchief. “I dunno,” I mused. “That feels a little like cheating.” Then I tilted my head. “On the other hand, screw it. If you're gonna tell her I'm a cape, I want to be there and see her face when you do.”

Peter's eyes were alight with mischief once more. “Oh hell yes. Imagine telling her that she's going to be introduced to our latest cape. She's all excited, right up until you open the faceplate and say hi.”

I snorted with laughter, smothered only a little by the potato salad I was eating. “If I'm gonna do that, I need to get Victor to build a camera into the armour.”

“Definitely.” Peter nodded. “Moments like that need to be preserved for posterity.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, then a thought occurred to me. “Um, about that. This is gonna sound a little silly, but … do you have a camera on you?” I hoped that what I was about to say didn't sound too ridiculous or needy.

“Actually, yes,” he said. “My phone's got one. Why?” As he spoke, he dug it out of his pocket.

I took a deep breath. “Because tomorrow I'll never believe that tonight's been so utterly awesome unless I've got a photo to remember it by. Because this sort of romance just plain doesn't happen in my life. Until I met you, anyway.” I stared into his eyes, silently willing him to understand.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed. “I was going to suggest one myself. And if it turns out well, we can get it framed.” He nodded at the candles. “We'll need to put those out. They'll glare out the city lights if we try to take the picture with them lit.”

“Two photos,” I suggested. “One with the candles, one without.” I really, really wanted a picture of me at a candlelight dinner. It would be my first ever.

“Okay,” he agreed. “We'll take the second one just before we start packing up. Wanna help me take the first one now?” He held the phone up so that I could help steady it, then with our free hands we toasted the lens with apple juice. After a brief pause so that we could link pinkies, I held the camera steady and he clicked the shutter button.

He took another one just in case, then we checked the results. I looked like such a romantic idiot, but my God I wanted a copy. Or two. And Peter looked almost as good on the screen as he did across the table from me. With idiotic grins on our faces, we kept eating. Periodically, I checked my power, but nobody seemed interested in sneaking up on us.

The Lil' Mousey episode had cleared away the initial embarrassment, and I found that I was thoroughly enjoying the romantic dinner without being overwhelmed by the strength of my feelings for Peter. We chatted about the latest improvements Victor had put into my armour, what little I knew of the upcoming raid on the Merchants, and how Peter's family was getting along. Helen's birthday wasn't far away, and I was looking forward to taking her to the Boardwalk with Peter so that we could carry out our promise of stuffing her with all the ice-cream she could eat. Of course, I intended to eat my share as well. Ice-cream was ice-cream, after all.

We also covered more serious topics, such as Dad's ongoing recovery. Peter held my hand as I told him how Dad was able to squeeze my hand just a little harder and a little longer each day that Othala treated him. In return, I held his as he talked about how George just refused to give up when doing his physical therapy. The fact that we could talk about things like that and still enjoy the dinner so much, convinced me all over again that Peter was the one for me. He didn't sugar-coat things; he told it like it was. But he still made me feel special every moment he was with me.

Eventually, it was time to go. I didn't want to, but I hadn't dressed for the cold, and it was even chillier at this altitude than it was down on the Boardwalk. Before we got up, Peter put out the candles and had one of the men take a photo of us holding hands with the backdrop of Brockton Bay behind us. I wasn't too sure how it would turn out, but at least we had the candlelight dinner one.

We left the men to pack up the table and chairs and made our way to where Peter had parked his truck. Even though he gave me his jacket, I was shivering by the time I got there. We climbed in and he started the engine and the heater in quick succession. But I noticed that he wasn't putting it in gear. “Peter?” I asked.

“I think it would be nice to just sit here awhile,” he murmured. “The men aren't going to bother us. We can just enjoy our date a while longer.” I felt his arm slither across behind me; with very little in the way of reluctance, I let him gather me into his embrace. Of course, the steering wheel was going to be a little bit of a problem, unless …

I exerted my power. No new firearms within range. Empire allies acting normally. Assume positive control of vehicle: “Peter's Truck”. Run front seats as far back as possible. Recline front seats.

I had managed to surprise Peter; as I let the powers drop away, he made a startled noise. “Taylor? That's you, right?”

“Uh huh.” A smile curved on my mouth as I removed my glasses and tossed them on to the passenger seat. I could find them at any time with my power, of course. The feeling of taking charge sent a deep-seated thrill through my body, and I liked it. Between the coat, Peter's proximity and the truck's extremely robust heater, I was no longer cold; I shrugged off the coat and snuggled even closer into his arms.

A few kisses later, I was starting to warm up even more; Peter didn't resist as I pushed him back and climbed up to lie astride him. Again, I felt the heady awareness of being in control, and I wanted to see how far I could take it. “So,” I murmured, “have you ever …” I moved my hips in that certain way and felt him stiffen slightly. This wasn't a spur of the moment thing; while I had never felt this way with anyone before, I definitely felt it with Peter, and right at that moment I wanted to explore it fully with him. The ultimate expression of our love.

His strangled grunt served only to drive me on, and I took the opportunity to unfasten the top two buttons of his shirt. His skin felt hot against my lips. “Taylor,” he groaned. “Please …” Two words that I wanted to hear. Unfortunately, the next one wasn't so agreeable. “Stop.” He caught my hands, pushing me back to arm's length. “We can't.”

I wasn't quite able to believe what I was hearing or what he was doing. “Peter, don't you love me? Don't you want this?” Hurt flooded through my heart. How could he reject me, reject what I wanted to share with him?

“Taylor, of course I want it. This is me. If I wanted it any more, then I'd be the one pinning you to the seat.” He ground his teeth together and shook his head. “But I can't do this with you. Not won't. Can't.” There was a finality to his voice.

I took one deep breath, then another. Then I climbed off of Peter and tapped into my power. All clear. After retrieving my glasses, I brought the seats back up to their normal position and dropped my powers again. When my emotions came back, they were still high, but while I was still a little pissed at Peter for shutting down my overtures so hard, I knew that he wouldn't have done it for no reason at all. “So talk.”

“Taylor.” It was a sigh more than anything else. “I'd love nothing more than to be doing this with you, but shortly before I came to Winslow, I got the absolute snot beaten out of me because of a pregnancy scare.”

“I …” I started to speak before I fully took in what he'd said, which brought me to a screeching halt. “Wait, what?” He obviously knew me well enough to not say anything, letting me process his words. Once I'd taken it on board, there was an obvious question to ask. “Who … oh.” Not only was the question obvious, but so was the answer, now that I thought about it. “Julie. Am I correct?”

“Julie.” His confirmation was firm, unapologetic. “It was my mistake. In more ways than one.”

I thought back to what I recalled of Julie. “No wonder she acted like you belonged to her.” A thought occurred to me. “Wait, who beat you up? Does she have a big brother?”

“No.” He shook his head, barely visible in the dimness. “My father is … a very strict man. Since we lost Mother, he's been extremely protective of the women in the family.”

“Okay,” I replied, to show that I was listening. “You told me how much he cares for your sisters.”

He put his hand on mine. “It's more than that. He likes you. Once he knew that we were serious, you were included in the family. So he warned me to treat you well. Which means … well, to not to do this before we're officially engaged and absolutely certain that you want to be a part of my life.”

I frowned as I tried to fit the jigsaw puzzle together. “So … you slept with Julie, and he found out about it, and disciplined you?”

“Actually, he never did take well to Julie,” Peter said, a trace of humour creeping into his tone. “No, that happened because she got me into bed exactly once, then went to her father and told him that she was pregnant to me after I turned her down for a second showing. Her father came to mine, demanding that I do the honourable thing. I managed to prove she wasn't pregnant, so -”

“Wait, wait,” I protested. “Hold up. How did you pull that off?” I had to admire Peter; in a situation where many boys might have resorted to bluster or grovelling, he was simply telling it like it was. Knowing that he'd slept with Julie gave me a slight pang, but that was a judgement error on his part; one that he had certainly since corrected.

“Oh, it involved Jenna, some strong-arm tactics, a pee cup, and a pregnancy test,” he explained succinctly. “When the test came up negative, I told Father. He wasted no time in telling Julie's father that the wedding was off. Then he made me get in the boxing ring and put on the gloves. Did I ever tell you that he was the one who taught me to box? We only went for three rounds, but he sure as hell took it out of my hide.” His voice was matter-of-fact, as if describing a movie he'd watched once.

“But you were the one who found out that she was lying!” I was horrified. “Why did he beat you for that?” It didn't make sense; at least, not to me.

“That's not what he did it for,” Peter explained. “He did it because I let myself get suckered into that situation in the first place. Because I believed her when she said she was on the pill. She was trying to get pregnant, to trap me into marriage. And I didn't see it coming.” His shrug was more felt than seen in the semi-darkness. “My fault.”

“But … I'm not trying to do that!” I protested. “I just wanted … I mean, you're the only boy I've ever even thought that way about, and tonight was so wonderful, and we were together, and …” I let my head thump back against the headrest. “I wasn't trying to trap you,” I said softly.

“I know that, sweetheart.” His voice was as gentle and loving as the hand he reached out to caress my hair with. “It's for your protection, remember? I'm to treat you well. Which means nothing untoward until I've put at least an engagement ring on your finger.”

His words sent a thrill through me, but I did my best to speak teasingly. “So when were you thinking of asking me, anyway? Sometime this century?” My hand crept up and captured his.

He squeezed my fingers; when he spoke, there was laughter in his voice. “Not sure. Maybe when I'm sure you won't freak out about it.”

It was a pity that he couldn't see me roll my eyes, but I did it anyway. “That was one time. But yeah, I think fifteen's a bit young to be getting engaged.” Leaning over, I pressed my lips to his, then whispered, “But you know, my birthday's only four months away …”

My lips were so close to his that I could tell when he smiled. “I'll keep it in mind,” he murmured. After a quick kiss, he added, “Thanks for not freaking out about Julie.”

“So long as you don't ever think about going back to her, we're good,” I said. Grabbing him by the shirt front, I forced him to kiss me again. He didn't struggle very hard to avoid his fate. “So, is she why you were at Winslow?”

“Yeah,” he said. “After the pregnancy thing, Father decided that it would be best if we were separated for a while. I happened to agree.” He turned his head to glance at the dashboard clock. “Uh, as much as I'd like to stay here all night, I've got school tomorrow, so we might want to get going.”

“Crap.” I kissed him one more time, then flopped back into my seat. Reaching up, I flipped on the internal light so he could see my smile. “I had a wonderful time tonight, Peter. I really did.”

He nodded seriously, then smiled back in a way that made my heart lurch. “So did I. Remind me to thank Othala for the planning advice.” He switched off the light, then fastened his seat belt.

I giggled. “Sure. I'll be thanking her too.” I clicked my own belt into place as he put the vehicle in gear, a dreamy smile on my face. Tonight had been about as perfect as it could get, a few minor hiccups aside.

Of course, I still had Julie to deal with. From the stunt she had pulled at the Gathering, she obviously hadn't learned her lesson. But, for the time being, she could wait.

“Peter,” I said as we started on the downgrade, “thanks for telling me all of that. It can't have been easy.”

He shot me a quick smile. “Yeah, well. I've got to own the space.”

“Own the space?” I was puzzled.

Taking one hand off the wheel, he waved it expressively. “It's from my favourite fantasy series. It means to accept your mistakes, to step up and take the punishment. Take responsibility for your own actions. The main character in the first book spends most of his time having to do just that.”

“ … huh.” I considered that. “Can I borrow it? I think that's a book I'd like to read.”

“Sure. I think you'll like it, too. He's got two daughters, and they're totally unalike. One's a little terror, and the other one's a real sweetie …” His tone was teasing.

“Ackh! No spoilers!” I slapped my hands over my ears, but I was laughing as I did so.

He laughed too, as we continued down the hill.

<><>

Coil
The Next Morning
Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Sitting at ease in his base, Calvert took a long drink from the large cup of coffee beside him. The bitter taste stung his throat, but it kept him awake. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours straight, but with caffeine and other stimulants blasting through his bloodstream, his alertness levels were still optimal. He keyed the radio headset. “All squads report status, over.”

“Alpha Squad, on site at east entrance, over.”

“Bravo Squad, on site at south entrance, over.”

“Charlie Squad at holding point, ready to assist, over.”

A tired smile crossed Calvert's face under the mask. The previous day's debacle had shown him what a bad idea it was to attempt to invade that particular gated community without adequate preparation. All it meant, however, was that he got to try again, without anyone in Willow Heights having an idea of what had happened previously.

“Bravo Lead here.” The man's voice held repressed excitement. “We have a vehicle of the correct type leaving the south entrance. Visual identification matches the target, over.”

Calvert keyed the mic. “Understood. Trail him for one block. Coordinate with Charlie Squad to block the road. Be aware; he is armed and dangerous. I want him alive and able to talk. Beyond that, I don't care. Coil, out.”

“Roger that, sir. Bravo Lead, out.”

<><>

Thirty minutes later, a bloodied and battered figure with a bag over its head was dumped on the floor in front of Coil. The boy's arms and legs had been bound, and he bore a crudely-bandaged bullet wound to his left forearm. Moreover, the fingers of his right hand seemed to have been broken. Looks like he put up a fight. Good. Coil shut the office door, then pulled the bag off his prisoner's head.

Peter Ferguson stared back defiantly, blood running from what looked like a broken nose. “What the hell do you want from me?” he demanded. “Whatever it is, you've bitten off more than you can chew. My father will find out who's taken me, and then all the shit in the world will come down on your head.”

Coil chuckled. “Oh, yes. But it will take them a day or two to find me. And in that time, I will find out everything that I want to know.” Crouching beside Ferguson, he unfolded a large clasp knife. “Feel free to scream. Everyone does, you know.”

<><>

As the screaming began, Thomas Calvert sat in his office in the PRT building and diligently typed away at his word-processor. Soon, Peter Ferguson would break. Everyone did, in the end. And when he did, Calvert would learn everything that Ferguson knew about Taylor Hebert.

Everything.

Part 19