Recoil Pt 5-6 (Patreon)

3 June 1961
Seattle, WA
Aster Anders

It was somewhat of a paradox; up until Aster's mind had expanded dramatically and she understood so much more, she wasn't aware of her lack of understanding. Thus, she wasn't confused or concerned about odd occurrences, because basically everything was inexplicable to a one year old baby.

But now that matters had changed, she was actually making an effort to follow events. And it was hard. Who was the man in the robes? Where had he taken her? How had he taken her there? And where was she now?

One moment, she had been in her carrier, in a place where it was dark and smelled of dust and smoke. Then she had been lifted out, he had looked at her seriously … and then the world had changed. No more dust and smoke, no more robed man. She was lying on something. Perhaps a car seat? It was warm, and smelled of leather. Not as comfortable as her carrier, but it wasn't bad.

A moment later, her guess was confirmed as she heard the distinctive sound of a car door opening. Cool air rolled over her, and she heard voices. “So I said, Phil, I said - holy shit!”

“What?” It was a different voice, also masculine. “What the heck? What's a baby doing in our squad car?”

Aster turned her head to look at the men who were even now peering into the car. Now was the time for a little crying, she decided. After all, she was fairly sure that her mother was dead, and so was her brother. Tears came easily as she filled the car with her wails.

“Oh god,” said one of the … police officers? Yes, they had badges on their shirts. “Can you keep her quiet, Goldstein? I gotta call this in.”

“Sure thing, buddy.” There was a warm chuckle in the voice of the police officer who gathered her up. “Hey there, little lady. My name's Phil. What's your name?” She stopped crying and gurgled happily as he tickled her; some things were always fun. And it's never too soon to start training them. That was something that one of the adults in her life had said. She wasn't quite sure who.

“Yeah, Central, a baby. No idea who left it there.” Phil's partner leaned on the door as he spoke into the microphone. “We only stepped out for a second to get coffee, and there she was.” A crackle of voices. “Look, I dunno. Geez, the paperwork we're gonna have to fill out on this one.”

Ignoring his partner's complaining tone, Phil poked Aster in the stomach, making her gurgle again. “Don't listen to him. If you got nowhere else to go, my wife Debbie would just love to take care of you till we can find your folks. How's that sound to you? Huh?”

Aster thought that sounded perfectly fine. Having someone to take care of her meant that there was one more obstacle out of the way. In the meantime, she had other things to think about.

Brockton Bay. Nineteen eighty-nine. Find Weaver. She knows how to save the world. Do not use your powers.

“Goo goo ga ga,” she said, apropos of nothing. Let's get this show on the road.

-ooo-

3 June 1972

“Happy birthday dear Ru-uth

“Happy birthday to you.”

The cake was carefully carried out from the kitchen; once her mother had placed it on the table, her father pulled out his Zippo and set about lighting the candles. There were, of course, twelve on the cake. Once they were all well alight, she took a deep breath and blew them out.

She knew, of course, that her real name was Aster Anders. My mother's name was Kayden Anders, and she was a hero. But here and now, it was important to keep up the masquerade of being Ruth Goldstein.

Her foster parents, unable to have children themselves, had done their best to give her a nurturing, caring home environment, and she loved them for it. For her part, she had made sure that they didn't see the more unusual aspects of their daughter. While she didn't know much about future events – there is only so much that a one year old can be expected to see and hear – she did know about things like mobile phones, high-definition colour TVs … and the advent of powers.

She had also very carefully not let them know that she herself had powers, although the sheer potential of her capabilities sometimes kept her awake at night. Neither did they know about her unusually high intelligence, or her photographic memory. While the latter was invaluable for study at school, the former seemed (in her informed opinion) to be levelling off; she imagined that by the time she finished school, she would be no smarter than the brightest of her peers.

Still, all of this ensured that she was determined not to settle for second best when it came to life. While she might begin paying attention to boys someday (and she was starting to notice them), she wasn't going to be silly about it. Besides, there were her other duties. Specifically, helping Weaver to save the world. Seventeen years to go.

“Apollo to Ruth. Apollo to Ruth. Come in, Ruth.”

Sergeant Phil Goldstein might have become a little older and a little greyer since the day he and his partner had discovered Aster in the front seat of their police cruiser, but he had never lost his sense of wonder. Aster had been nine when the first lunar landing had taken place, and they had followed every mission since. She giggled as he 'orbited' her head with a fork full of cake, making beeping noises, before allowing her to take over what he referred to as 'docking procedures'.

The cake was nice, and she had presents to unwrap. Nearly all the friends she had invited for the party had turned up, and she was looking forward to the party games. Being smarter than anyone else your age was all right, she figured, but it was also fun just being a kid once in a while. Even if her Bat Mitzvah was next week.

-ooo-

23 May 1982

“Well, will you look at that.”

“Look at what, dear?” asked Deborah, coming through from the kitchen.

“They're calling him the Golden Man.” Phil sat up in his armchair, adjusting his bifocals to get a better look at the screen. “Just floating there in midair, out in the middle of the ocean.” He raised his voice. “Ruth, come down here a moment. There's something you might want to see.”

“Coming, Dad.” In a moment, her door opened and closed, and Ruth came trotting downstairs. “What's the – oh.”

“Phillip!” squawked Deborah at the same time. “Turn that off! He has no clothes on!” She turned to her daughter. “Don't look! It's indecent!”

“Come on, Debbie,” Phil protested. “The girl's training to be a doctor. She's going to university. She'll see far worse than by the time she's finished.”

Ruth stared at the screen. “That's not a trick, is it?” she asked. “He's really flying?”

“Of course it's a trick,” protested Deborah. “How could a man be flying? You watch, it'll be a hoax.”

Phil shook his head. “I'm not so sure, Debbie,” he said slowly. “It doesn't look like a trick to me.”

“It's not.” Ruth still hadn't taken her eyes from the screen. “It's real. And there'll be more of them someday.” She turned to see both of her parents staring at her. “What?”

“You sound really sure of yourself there, Ruth,” Phil ventured. “Do you know something that we don't?”

Ruth grinned at them disarmingly. “No, Dad. I've just got this feeling, is all.” Turning, she started up the stairs to her room again. Halfway up, she paused. “Thanks for calling me down to see that. It was really cool.”

-ooo-

Once back in her room, Aster closed her door and leaned against it. The excitement buzzing in her bloodstream was almost more than she could bear. That was Scion. It's begun. It's really begun.

Drawing a deep breath, she recited again the mantra that had been part of her daily routine ever since she had been able to talk. “Brockton Bay. Nineteen eighty-nine. Find Weaver. She knows how to save the world. Do not use your powers.”

Seven years to go, she told herself. Seven years.

It seemed like forever.

-ooo-

Monday, 5 December 1988
Seattle, WA

Yum, yum. Aster turned her head to watch as the visiting surgeon passed by. She couldn't help it; he was both good-looking and skilled at his job. Tall, distinguished appearance, a touch of silver at the temples …

“Girl, you better tuck that tongue back in, or it's gonna be draggin' on the floor.”

She spun around at the amused voice, blushing furiously. “I don't know what you're talking about, Darlene.”

Darlene Hobbs, head nurse and Aster's best friend at the hospital, burst out laughing. Her skin was as dark as Aster's was white, but that hadn't stopped her from befriending the hospital's newest – and only female – surgeon. “You wanna convince me of that, honey, you better wipe the drool off your chin first.”

Aster's hand went to her face by sheer reflex; finding no drool there, she shot her friend a dirty look. “I was just, you know, looking. He's so darn scrumptious.”

“Uh huh.” About three sentences worth of disbelief were packed into those two words. “I bet if you found yourself stuck in a lift with him, you'd do a lot more than just look.”

Aster imagined the idea, and blushed all over again. “Uh, maybe?”

“No maybe about it, Ruth.” Darlene looked her in the eye. “Thing you gotta remember about men like that. They's dangerous.”

Aster frowned. “Dangerous? He wouldn't hurt a fly.”

Darlene snorted. “Hurt it, no. Do a heart transplant on it, sure.” She paused as Aster chuckled. “But what I'm talkin' about is how men like that know they got the power. They can lead women on all they like, an' if they decide they ain't interested, they just plain move on.”

“Henry's not like that,” Aster insisted. “He's a warm, gentle, wonderful man.”

“Henry, huh?” Darlene raised an eyebrow. “You havin' one on one conversations with him now? Spill, girl.”

Aster shook her head. “I mean, uh, Doctor Friedrich. I've spoken to him a few times. He's been nothing but nice to me.”

“Well, of course he has,” Darlene pointed out. “You're younger'n him, you're kinda pretty in th' right light, an' of course, you ain't married.” She shook her head. “You nice Jewish girls gotta learn that just 'cause a guy acts nice don't mean he is nice.”

Aster sighed. “Okay, maybe you're right. I'll be careful.”

Darlene slapped her on the shoulder. “That's the spirit, girl. Don't expect nothin' you don't see with your own eyes.”

“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”

-ooo-

Friday, 16 December 1988

“Why, Doctor Goldstein, isn't it?”

Aster turned her head in well-simulated surprise. “Doctor Friedrich! Fancy meeting you here.”

His warm chuckle set her heart fluttering. “Please, call me Henry.”

“Then you must call me Ruth,” she countered, feeling very daring.

It had taken all of her nerve, but she had watched his comings and goings from the hospital, finding that he tended to frequent the same small bar most nights. So she had put on her best 'going out' dress, applied makeup, and gone to the bar, arriving a short while before he usually got there.

Of course, she hadn't been quite sure how she was going to approach him, but he had solved that problem by walking right up to her. And now they were talking. In a bar. Like two ordinary people.

I have no idea how to handle this.

She was no virgin. That little detail had been taken care of while she was attending the university, with one of her classmates. They had both been interested in what 'it' was like, so they had worked out a time and place to do the deed. While not the earth-shattering event that she had been led to expect, it had been interesting and not at all unpleasant. Although she could have stood to repeat the experiment until they both got it right, he had decided to move on to better things. Not wanting to pick up the stigma of being a girl who 'slept around', she went back to her more or less solitary lifestyle.

Which meant that she had very little experience in talking to men in bars, even men whom she wanted to talk to.

“Very well, Ruth, but you must allow me to buy you a drink,” he agreed. “Shall we get a table?”

“I … yes, please.” Standing up from her stool, she allowed him to guide her over to a corner table. Taking a seat, she watched him go to the bar and order. A moment later, she realised that she hadn't told him what she wanted.

It didn't seem to matter; he brought back two drinks anyway. They had olives in them, so she decided that they had to be martinis. “Now, before I ply you with drinks,” he told her with a roguish twinkle in his eye, “are you on duty tomorrow?”

“I'm off until Monday,” she assured him. She picked up one of the drinks and sipped it. Alcohol was another thing she had experimented with in her university years; at least with that, she could keep coming back until she got it right. She had a good idea of her capacity and what types of alcohol she liked; she just wasn't all that familiar with the various mixes of drinks. She decided that she liked martinis, if that was what he'd gotten her.

“Excellent,” he murmured. “So, tell me. What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

She gave him a direct look. “Who says I'm a nice girl?”

His chuckle sent a thrill right through her. “Well, basically everyone. I like to find out who I'm working with, and everyone I've spoken to has said the same thing. You're a nice girl from a nice family.”

She rolled her eyes. “And let me guess. When they say 'nice', you hear 'boring'. Right?”

His gaze was appraising; she felt her cheeks go warm. “Well, up until now … maybe. But I could be persuaded to re-examine my position on the matter.”

The dress she was wearing wasn't really meant to show cleavage, but she leaned forward over the table to give it the best chance she could. “I would appreciate the chance to change your mind.” Holding his gaze, she drank off about half the martini in one swallow; the alcohol heated her blood nicely.

Later, she could recount their conversation word for word, but she could not understand why it kept her so spellbound. He made her laugh more than once with comments that would have left her flat if she was sober. When he suggested that they withdraw to his hotel room, she made no demur. Once within the four walls that he was temporarily calling home, they talked some more, his voice becoming lower and more confidential, moving closer to her. She was not averse.

It was with little surprise and no alarm that she felt his lips on hers, and she returned the kiss with more enthusiasm than expertise. His hand found the zipper to her dress and began to slide it down. That was when she kicked her shoes off and gave herself over to the inevitable.

-ooo-

She awoke with the unfamiliar feeling of someone else in the bed with her. Then she realised that the bed was unfamiliar as well. Opening her eyes triggered a chain of recollections, culminating in: Oh my god, I slept with him.

Nice girls did not go home with men they barely knew. They certainly did not go home with them after a few drinks and …

The gift of perfect recall, most times very useful, seemed to be a curse right at that moment as her treacherous memory replayed everything in lurid detail. Her cheeks heated in mortification. Did I do that? Did I say that? Oh, god.

This was not to say that she had not enjoyed what had happened. He had been most attentive, and she had learned so much, and enjoyed herself immensely. But this would inevitably cause a change in how she and Doctor Friedrich saw each other. I was so shameless last night. Whatever must he think of me? He was a man whom she admired intensely; his disapproval was more than she thought she could bear.

A weight rolled against her back and an arm snaked around her waist. “Morning, beautiful,” he murmured. “Was last night as good as I recall, or was I dreaming? Please tell me I wasn't dreaming.”

At the reassuring sound of his voice, and the warmth of his touch, all of her fears melted away.

-ooo-

Monday, 19 December 1988

“Good morning, Doctor Goldstein.” Henry held open the door for her as they entered the hospital, just as if they had not spent the weekend together.

“Why thank you, Doctor Friedrich. And good morning to you too.” Aster didn't look too closely at Henry's eyes, for fear that she might never look away. She didn't think that she was quite in love yet, but the precipice was close, and all she needed was one push. Or an excuse to jump.

“Mornin', doctors,” Darlene announced, sweeping into the lobby. Her gaze flicked over Aster, then over Henry. Aster saw her eyes widen fractionally and her eyebrows hitch up. “Did ya have a good weekend?”

Henry spoke first, for which Aster was glad. It gave her a chance to calm herself. Darlene suspects something. But she can't be sure.

“Actually, yes, Nurse Hobbs.” Henry bent a charming smile her way. “I spent quite a bit of time resting and relaxing. And yourself?”

“Eh, so-so,” Darlene said, waggling a hand. “Grandson got a new bicycle, so I been patchin' skinned knees an' elbows all weekend. Just a blessin' my idiot son in law got 'im a helmet, too. Elsewise we'd be dealin' with a cracked skull. His too, if I had my way.”

“Oh, that's not good,” Aster commiserated. “You should have called me. I would've been glad to come out and lend a hand.”

Darlene shot her a shrewd glance. “I 'preciate that, Doctor Goldstein. Can I have a quick word with you?”

Henry's expression was unconcerned, which merely meant that he didn't know how sharp Darlene was just yet. “Uh, of course, Darlene,” Aster agreed. “What's the matter?”

The head nurse drew her away down the corridor, then into an examination room. Closing the door, she locked it, then bent an accusatory eye on Aster. “You done it, didn't you, girl.” It wasn't even a question.

Aster floundered. “I, uh, don't know -”

Darlene shook her head. “Don't even try it, swee'pea. We been friends too long for that. You let Friedrich get into your pants. Yeah?”

“It wasn't like that,” protested Aster. “It was – we were -”

The older woman put her hand to her forehead. “Aw shee-it. You went there. You went there ta talk to him, an' you let him talk ya into bed.”

“Darlene!” Aster put her hands to her head. “It wasn't like that either! I wanted to – I enjoyed -”

“So you went to meet him, knowin' that your dress was like ta end up on his bedroom floor, is that it?” Darlene's gaze was direct, her tone as blunt as her words.

Aster's voice was very small. “Yes?”

Darlene fixed her with a stern gaze. “'Least tell me you're usin' birth control.”

“Oh, definitely,” Aster assured her. “I've been on the Pill since I started medical school. Dad's idea.” Mom would have a fit if she found out. But she'd have a bigger fit if I got pregnant, so …

“Well, good.” Darlene folded her arms. “But a girl as smart as you can still be right dumb when it comes to men. I said he was dangerous, an' I stand by that. You figure the sun an' moon shine out of his ass, yeah?”

“He's wonderful and sweet and talented -”

“Which means he knows what ta say to a woman, an' he's good in the sack. Doesn't say anythin' about him as a person, y'know.” Darlene's voice was hard and cynical.

“He's asked me to move to California with him.” Aster clapped her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that, she truly hadn't.

Darlene stopped for a long moment. “An' you said?”

“I said I'd think about it.”

“You're too good for your own good, honey. When you says that, you means yes, sure as shootin'. What're you gonna do for work?”

“He said he'd talk to the administration at the hospital he works at. See if they can't open a slot for me.”

Her friend's voice was dark with suspicion. “Just make sure it's real 'fore you go traipsin' off inta th' wild blue yonder, honey. I don't want you gettin' hurt.”

Aster hugged Darlene. “I know, and I appreciate that so much. Of course I'll make sure there's a position there before I go. I'm not stupid.”

Darlene shook her head. “Remains ta be seen. But I ain't gonna stand in your way. I'm your friend, not your momma.”

“Thanks. Mind you, I've still got to sweet-talk Gianopolis into letting me go early. My contract doesn't run out till the end of January.”

Darlene tilted her head. “Weren't ya gonna be transferring ta Brockton Bay or some ass-end place like that? You only been talkin' about that for the last year or more.”

“Oh. God.” Aster ran her hands through her hair. “I totally, totally forgot.”

Which was untrue. Aster literally could not forget anything. But she was well-practised at not thinking about certain things, such as some of the more gruesome details of the cases she had dealt with. Such was her infatuation with Henry that she had been carefully suppressing things that she should have been paying attention to.

Brockton Bay. Nineteen eighty-nine. Find Weaver.

She knew who Weaver was. A teenage supervillain called Taylor Hebert. Tall, with long dark curly hair, round-lensed glasses. A bug-themed costume in either grey and black or blue and white. It had been on the news more than once. As a baby, she had seen it but not understood it. Over the intervening years, she had gone through her recollections and correlated them into an understandable framework.

If a bug controlling cape shows up in Brockton Bay, I'll know who she is. It's not like bug control was very common. And it's even less common now.

In any case, a teenager from two thousand eleven will be well out of place in 'eighty-nine. She'll make the news. I'll show up, be 'aunt Ruth', help her get her feet under her. It'll be all good.

And then she had the brainwave. Wait. Hah. Nina Veder's working there now. I can ask her to keep an eye out, and then let me know.

She made her decision. “I need to talk to Henry.”

-ooo-

That Evening

“Henry?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“If I come to California with you …?”

She sensed the quickening of his interest. “Yes?”

“I might need to take extra vacation time. I have a friend on the east coast I want to keep in touch with.”

“Really?” His voice held amusement. “Do I sense a rival for your affections?”

“It's not like that.” She snuggled against him. “Her name's Nina Veder. We attended the university together. She went into psychology. We've been friends for years.”

“Oh, well, that's different.” His lips found hers in the darkness. “Certainly. Any time you want extra vacation time, just come to me and say pretty please, and I'll sign off on it.”

She giggled. “And how do I say pretty please?”

He ran his hand up her flank. “I'm sure you can think of a way. Or two.”

This time her laugh was low and throaty. “I'm sure I can as well.”

-ooo-

20 December 1988
Brockton Bay
Nina Veder's Apartment

“Are you sure you won't come to our Christmas party?”

Smiling, Nina shook her head. “I know how your parties turn out. Last year, one of your guests propositioned me and wouldn't take no for an answer. I think it's best if I don't come along.”

Sally pouted. “Aww.”

“You just want to get Nina drunk and proposition her yourself,” accused Rose cheerfully, putting Sally into a mock headlock.

“And what's wrong with that?”

“The fact that I'm on to you and I'm saying no when I'm sober,” pointed out Nina. “I love you both and I love staying here, but that's one thing that's not on the table. Not interested. Okay?”

“Plus, we need her to be our token straight when we're talking to the landlord,” Rose pointed out.

“You're both no fun,” sniffed Sally.

At that moment, the phone rang. Sally and Rose were occupied with each other, so Nina reached out and got it. “Hello?”

“Neens, how are you?”

There was only one person who shortened her name even further than it usually was. “Arjee, my God. How long's it been?”

“One year, two months, one week, four days,” Ruth replied promptly. “Give or take a few hours.”

“Hah!” Nina loved how Ruth could keep track of dates so easily. “Still got it, huh?”

“Still got it. Listen, can I ask you for a huge, huge favour?”

Nina didn't take long to consider. Ruth had been her absolute best friend when they were attending the university in Seattle. Nina had been living on campus while Ruth commuted from home, but they had shared everything except boyfriends (of which Nina had had more than Ruth).

It turned out that as well as her date trick, Ruth was a speed-reader and could quote anything back from any book she had ever read. Nina was pretty sure that she wouldn't have aced her psych finals without Ruth's patient coaching. And then, of course, there had been that regrettable incident in Mexico …

“Sure thing. If I can, I will. What is it?”

“Okay, this is going to sound kind of weird, but I need you to keep an eye out for a particular girl. She's fifteen or sixteen. I need to find out where she is and what she's doing, and I'm pretty sure she'll pop up in Brockton Bay.”

Nina blinked. “What is she, some kind of runaway?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Something of that sort, yes. Um, okay, first name Taylor. Not sure what last name she'll be using. Pretty tall. Taller than me, taller than you. Skinny, though. Long dark curly hair. Short-sighted. She wears round-lensed glasses. Serious expression, brown eyes, wide mouth.”

“Wow.” Nina laughed uncertainly. “Sounds like you know her pretty well. Got her star sign too?”

“Sorry, no. If someone like that shows up in Brockton Bay in the next twelve months or so, can you get in touch with me? I'll show up and take her off your hands.”

“Um, sure, I can do that.” Nina was scribbling on a pad as she spoke. “I'll pass the word around -”

“No. No, don't do that. This is just between me and you, okay?”

Nina blinked. Ruth's voice had been deadly serious. “Um, really?”

“Really. This is important. I don't want anyone else knowing.”

With anyone else, Nina would have protested that it was too hard. But this was Ruth. “Well, that's going to make it a bit harder. Got anything else for me to go on with?”

There was a pause. “Yes. She might try to slip into the city during an upheaval of some sort. Something that'll make it harder to find out where she came from.”

Nina got it at once. “So I look for someone who looks like that in the aftermath of something big. Not just walking down the street, minding her own business.”

“Yes, basically.”

“Okay, I can do that. I can't guarantee results, but I can definitely do that.”

“Thanks, Neens. I will owe you so, so much.”

“More than I owe you for coming down to Mexico and bailing me out of jail?”

“ … maybe.”

Nina chuckled. “Well, I'll do my best. I'll keep an eye out till you show up. February, right?”

Now Ruth sounded positively embarrassed. “Um … I won't be showing up?”

“What?” Nina shook her head. “You've been planning this forever. You contract runs out, you get a spot at Brockton General. What changed?”

“I, uh, kinda met a guy?”

“And what's that got to do with anything?”

“I'm, um, kinda moving to LA to be with him.”

Nina's head flopped back to hit the sofa with a soft thump. “You're shitting me. You're standing me up, and dropping this on me, for a guy?”

“Nina, he's … he's wonderful. I've never known anyone like him. I think … he really might be the one.”

“Hmm.” Nina had, of course, been privy to Ruth's experimentation in college. Not being one to let herself get tied down herself, she had never been one of those girls who tried to set her friends up with boys. But she did think that Ruth ought to get out and see more people.

And apparently, she had.

“So he's that nice?”

“Yes.” There was a dreamy quality to Ruth's voice. “He's so sweet and wonderful and talented.”

Oh boy. She's got it bad. “Well, okay. I'm not going to tell you not to be happy. He does make you happy, right?”

“Oh, in so many ways.”

Nina recognised that immediately as code for “he's great in bed”. Good. “Well, I'm happy for you, Arjee. Let me know how it turns out. And come see me sometime. It's been ages since we saw each other. And yes, I'll keep an eye out for your wayward teenager.”

“You find her, I'll be on the first flight over. You don't find her, I'll still come over and say hi.”

“Okay, see you then.”

“See you. And thanks.”

“No problem. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Nina hung up the phone, then sat there staring at the notepad and the details she had written down.

So, she's met a guy. Okay then. But what's this about the girl. I know she's not into girls. Especially not this young. So what have I gotten myself into now?

The pad gave her no answers. Shrugging, Nina Veder got up and went to make herself a snack. Either she'd find the girl and Ruth would fill her in … or she wouldn't. Either way, she'd do her best.

It was only when she was smoothing the peanut butter on to the bread that the thought struck her.

This girl she wants me to look out for is going to be showing up right about the time that she was supposed to be moving out here. Is that some kind of crazy coincidence? Or something else?

She had no way of telling.

-ooo-

15 January 1989
Los Angeles
Aster Anders

The taxicab smelled a little weird, but taxis did that all over. The streets were wider than in Seattle as well, with a lot more palm trees. Aster had spent most of the taxi ride with her nose glued to the window, trying to see if she could catch a glimpse of a celebrity. Once, in the far distance, she had seen part of the Hollywood sign.

I'm in LA, I'm in LA, I'm in LA! She hugged herself, squeezing the key that lay in the palm of her hand until it pressed uncomfortably into her flesh. Henry had given her a key to his apartment the day he left to get back to Los Angeles. At the same time, the paperwork had come through from the hospital in which he was chief of surgery. Starting on the first of February, she had a two-year placement there.

Darlene had been happy for her … she supposed. The older woman had spent a lot of time going over the paperwork, making sure that it was genuine. Eventually, she'd been forced to admit that Henry had come through. “So he'll be putting you up in his own apartment?”

“Gave me a key and all.” Aster had shown it to her.

“Hmph. Somethin' smells about this, is all.”

“Oh, come on, Darlene. He's a wonderful man. Why can't you be happy for me?”

“'Cause if he so wonderful, how come some other lucky girl ain't got him first?”

“Maybe it's just love?”

“Hmph.” But Darlene hadn't tried to talk her out of it any more. She had loaded Aster down with a lot of useful information about LA, including hints and tips for getting along in the city.

Aster had filed it all away. “I'm going to miss you, Darlene.”

“Gonna miss you too, girl. Come visit sometime, okay?”

“Always.”

That parting hadn't been easy. It had been even less easy to convince the hospital administration to let her out of her contract two weeks early. There had been a lot of back and forth and dark muttering, but finally they had signed the papers and she was free to go. Henry thinks I won't be there till February. I can't wait to surprise him!

-ooo-

She paid off the cabbie, then waited till her cases had been deposited on the pavement before tipping him. Darlene had taught her that little trick. As the bright yellow vehicle drove off, she hefted her luggage and started up the stairs into the apartment building. A man coming out held the door for her; she smiled and thanked him.

Aster was pleased to discover that the elevator worked; Henry lived on the tenth floor, and she would have hated to have to climb all those stairs with her cases in hand. Soft music played as she rode up to the correct floor; checking the note he'd given her yet again, she hefted the suitcases and carried them down the corridor to the correct door.

So what if you gets there, an' the key's a fake? Don't open nothin'?

Why would he give me a fake key? He wants me to move in, right?

Hmph.

Still, there was a quiver in her heart as she slid the key into the lock. It fitted, at least. And when she turned it … the lock clicked open. A smile spread across her face. I never doubted for a second.

Easing the door open, she brought her cases in, then carefully shut it again. She could hear his voice in the other room; it sounded like he was talking on the phone. That'll make it easier to surprise him. Slipping off her shoes, trying not to giggle, she tiptoed across the soft, plush carpet to the open doorway.

“Yeah, yeah, she gets here in February,” he said, just as she was about to step out and reveal herself. “She's some girl.”

Aww. She stopped to hug herself. And, although she wasn't going to admit it to herself, to listen in on Henry talking about her.

“I tell you what, Pete, I just love screwing Jewish girls. They're so goddamn grateful, you know? It's like Jewish guys don't know what to do with their pricks. And Ruth … fuck, man, she's a keeper. She's all prim and proper in the hospital, but get her clothes off and she's nothing but a raging slut. You wouldn't believe what she lets me do to her.”

The smile slid off Aster's face. She wasn't even aware of the key falling from nerveless fingers to bounce soundlessly on the thick carpet. Her carefully constructed romantic dreams crumbled around her until she was left all alone in the cold. He doesn't love me. He thinks of me like … that.

She wanted to throw up. She wanted to yell and scream.

But most of all, she wanted to break one of her primary rules.

Do not use your powers.

Ignoring the streaks of tears on her face, Aster leaned up against the wall, teeth clenched, grimacing until her face hurt. Her nails pressed into her palms, almost drawing blood, but she dared not open her hands. Not with the heat she could feel building in there.

I want to kill him.

The accented voice rose up in her mind, as it had so many times over the years. Do not use your powers.

She had obeyed it in the past, but now she rebelled. It would be so easy.

Do. Not. Use. Your. Powers.

Darlene was right. He's just using me.

DO NOT USE YOUR POWERS.

I want to kill him. Please let me kill him.

DO NOT USE YOUR POWERS.

Why. Not?

A different voice intruded then, one from another memory. A woman with a flag-print scarf across her face. Your mother's name was Kayden Anders, and she was a hero.

She slumped, very slightly. I can't kill him. If Mom-from-before was a hero … I have to be a hero, too.

I have to be the bigger person.

Okay, Aster, you can do this.

-ooo-

Henry looked up as Ruth appeared in the doorway. “Ruth!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, Pete, I'll call you back.”

Putting the phone down, he jumped up from the armchair. “Did you just get in? I didn't expect you to be so early.” Hurrying across the room, he went to embrace her, but she stepped back and brought up her hands to fend him off. “Ruth?”

Looking into her eyes, he got a hint as to what was wrong. There was nothing of the life that had been in them before. Nothing of the joy that he was used to seeing in them.

“I heard.” Her voice was just as flat and dead as her gaze. “It's over, Henry.”

He frowned. “What? What did you hear?” Rapidly, he thought back over the phone conversation, and a few incautious phrases popped to mind. “I, uh, probably said something that you heard out of context. Tell me what you heard and I can explain.”

Taking a deep breath, she began to speak. “I tell you what, Pete, I just love screwing Jewish girls. They're so goddamn grateful, you know? It's like Jewish guys don't know what to do with their pricks. And Ruth … fuck, man, she's a keeper. She's all prim and proper in the hospital, but get her clothes off and she's nothing but a raging slut. You wouldn't believe what she lets me do to her.”

He blinked. She had just repeated his words perfectly, with all the intonations thrown in. And unless she was a lot dumber than he thought she was, there was no explaining that away. “Uh …”

“So,” she pressed. “What context should I put that into, exactly?”

Fuck it. He decided to go for broke. “Okay, so you know the truth now.” He searched her face. “That's a good thing, right? We don't have to lie to each other any more. You like it in bed, and I like it in bed with you. We have fun, yeah? You can't tell me that you don't enjoy it. So why don't we just call this a learning experience and go on from here? Just keep going the way we are? I mean, it's not like anything's changed between us, yeah?”

-ooo-

Henry Friedrich would never know exactly how close he came to a fiery death. Aster held her power in while it surged beneath her skin. If her control had broken even once, it would not have relented until everything she could see resembled the blasted wasteland that was her soul. As it was, she had to do her best to stop molten steel from oozing through the easiest points of contact, which happened to be the palms of her hands. With a tremendous effort of will, she managed to keep her left hand cool enough that the metal did not come out through her pores.

She knew she had been less than successful with her right hand – perhaps because she was more used to shooting it from that hand – when she felt it pooling in her clenched fist. It did its best to ooze out between her fingers, but she kept them tightly closed; the last thing she wanted was for him to wonder why there were burnt patches on his carpet. She knew that her hands would be glowing slightly, and she willed him not to look down.

Do not use your powers.

It wasn't a stricture that she had always followed – youthful curiosity is a thing, after all – but for the most part, she had. And once she had a good idea of what she could do with her abilities, she had been very careful not to go overboard. Especially after almost starting that forest fire.

Twenty-seven years of keeping herself under strict control came to her aid here; she took a deep breath, and then another, trying not to exhale heated-metal vapours in his direction. It was thatclose to the surface. Never before had she been so close to letting loose. But she couldn't. She had to remain unremarkable. I have to help save the world, and using my powers now could change matters in some really bad ways.

“Everything's changed, Doctor Friedrich,” she corrected him, working hard at keeping her voice under control. “We're through as of right now. I won't be moving in with you. In fact, I won't be staying in Los Angeles. I only wish that I'd learned what sort of a man you were before I let you sleep with me.”

He seemed to be trying to figure out her attitudes. “Ruth, the offer's still open. Okay, so I'm not your knight in shining armour. Who the hell is, in this day and age? Suppose we forget what I said, and just keep on going the way we were? What do you lose?”

Another deep breath. Control. The steel pooling in her right hand was starting to cool down now. “Self-respect. That's what I'd lose if I went back to you after learning what you really think of me.”

“Self-respect? Hah!” His bark of laughter was harsh. “Where was your self-respect when you let me bend you over and -”

Her right fist was still full of slowly cooling metal, but her left was free, so she slapped him. She had enough control to prevent him from being toasted by white-hot molten metal, but the flesh of her hand was still infused with it. When she hit him, her hand was still almost as hard – and as heavy – as steel. Also, it was somewhat hotter than human flesh tends to be; she wasn't quite sure how hot, and she didn't really care. In any case, the impact spun him around and sprawled him across the carpet.

She didn't wait for him to get up. “Your key's on the floor,” she told him. “I'm leaving. Goodbye.” Turning, she made for the door.

He called out just as she opened it. His voice was muffled, as though he was holding his face. “You can't.”

“I can and I will,” she retorted, not turning around. She didn't want to look at his face even once more.

“You signed a contract,” he reminded her. “You're working for my hospital now. You're working for me.”

“So fire me,” she shot back. “I won't contest it. Pretty sure that assaulting my boss is a sackable offence.”

“No.” His voice was steady, in control. “I wouldn't just fire you. I would ensure that you're blacklisted from every hospital in America. You'd never hold a scalpel again … Doctor Goldstein.”

She turned around then. “You wouldn't.” A chill down her spine told her that she was wrong.

“Oh, I would.” He was standing in the doorway, the light behind him. She couldn't see the mark where she had struck him, but he was touching his cheek carefully, as if wondering why it hurt so much. I may have burned him by accident. Or maybe on purpose.

“So you're going to force me to work for you anyway? What else? Are you going to make me sleep with you as well?” She put all the acid she could into her tone.

“Tempting,” he conceded, “but I think not. I prefer my bedmates willing and eager. Though if you came to me, I might see my way clear to reducing your sentence, I mean, the time on your contract. Depending, of course, on how convincing you were.” He spread his hands. “And you already know how much you enjoy what I can do for you.”

He was right; she enjoyed it. Or rather, she had enjoyed it while she thought he loved her, or at least respected her. But knowing now what went through his mind when he thought of her, the idea of his touching her, taking her to bed, repulsed her. I would rather be celibate than … that.

“Goodbye.” It was all she could trust herself to say.

-ooo-

Once she was outside, awkwardly carrying both cases with one hand, she found a gutter drain. Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, she carefully opened her right hand to reveal a lump of steel that was shaped just right to fit inside her closed fist. If I had punched him with that, I think I might have broken his jaw.

Maybe I should have.

Taking the piece of steel, she tossed it into the drain, hearing the echoing clatter as it bounced on the concrete in the sewer below the street. Hopefully nobody will find it, and if they do, they won't know what it is.

Moving on, she began to search for a cab. I need to get to the hospital and sort this out.

-ooo-

" ... so, as you can see, I won't be able to work at the hospital after all."

Aster sat back in her chair with a hopeful smile. She had made her points without directly referring to the relationship between her and Friedrich, but she was fairly sure that Director Goodman could connect the dots. No scandal, we sweep this under the carpet, everyone wins.

Goodman steepled her fingers as she contemplated Aster. The Director was a severely dressed brunette with looks that owed a lot to either plastic surgery or good genetics. Aster wondered whether her neutral expression reflected her mood or was merely the default that she showed the world.

"Doctor Goldstein," she began. "Am I to understand that you are telling me that you are incapable of working with Doctor Friedrich?"

Aster took a deep breath. "That, Director, is exactly what I am telling you."

"Does Doctor Friedrich share your ..." Goodman hesitated for a moment. "... your aversion to working together?"

If I say yes, she can check. "Uhhh ..."

"I'll take that as a 'no', Doctor Goldstein." The Director's expression was definitely disapproving now. "Which presents me with a problem."

"Uh, a problem?"

"Yes. A problem. Because if it were the other way around, if Doctor Friedrich decided that he could not work with you, then this conversation would not have lasted this long." Director Goodman gave her a tight smile. "However, as he has expressed a definitive preference for working with you – has in fact praised your surgical skills to the skies – then you stay. The problem arises because you don't want to be here.” She paused for a long moment. “The point I am trying to make is that I have the power to make all problems become your problems. So I suggest that you adjust your attitude and learn to like working with Doctor Friedrich."

"Or we can just solve the problem by releasing me from my contract," Aster suggested. "After all, I don't officially start until February. Doctor Friedrich happened to inform me that there was a list of potential applicants for my slot, and that I was placed at the head of it. It shouldn't be too hard to tear up my contract and give the spot to the next person in line, should it?”

Director Goodman nodded austerely. “We can do that, yes.”

Aster brightened. Oh. Good. For a moment, I thought this was going to be difficult. “So what do we need to do?”

The tight smile was back. “Well, first we have to review the penalty clauses in the contract you signed. You do recall those, don't you?”

Ah. Aster did indeed recall the penalty clauses. The best word to describe them was 'draconian'. She had been rather hoping that they wouldn't come up – applying them was at the Director's discretion, after all – but up they had indeed come. The financial penalties that would accrue out of a surgeon choosing to default on a contract after signing it were rather steep. So steep, in fact, that she wasn't sure if she could meet them. Especially as she wouldn't be living on a surgeon's salary if Friedrich chose to carry out his threat of blacklisting her. Not 'if' – 'when'.

Her face froze. As she looked at the Director, she caught the tiniest spark of triumph in the woman's eyes. Friedrich called her up before I got here. He probably put her up to this. She was trapped.

“Uh, I don't believe that I can actually pay those penalties. Not all at once, anyway.”

The Director's voice was mock-sympathetic. “Well, I'm afraid that once the contract is cancelled, you will be required to pay out a lump sum. You will have another job to go to, won't you?”

She knows full well that I won't. Friedrich will see to that.

Aster swallowed her hurt pride. “I … would like to revise my decision to walk away from my contract. It seems that I will be working for you after all.”

“And Doctor Friedrich?” The Director seemed intent on rubbing salt into the wound.

There wasn't much else she could say. “I'm just going to have to learn to work with him.”

The Director smiled coldly. “Good decision, Doctor Goldstein. Glad to have you on board.”

They shook hands as Aster stood. As she left the Director's office, one thought was uppermost in her mind.

Two years. I can handle two years.

Another one intruded.

I have to make some phone calls.

-ooo-

Seattle, WA

“Gramma, gramma, watch me!”

Darlene Hobbs smiled indulgently as she leaned back on the porch chair. Her six-year-old grandson was proudly riding his brand-new bicycle up and down the road, looking over to make sure that he had his grandmother's attention. “You watch yourself now!” she called out. “Don't want no more skinned knees!”

“Won't get none!” he called back. “I can ride now!”

Darlene snorted; she was just thinking of a suitable retort when her daughter tapped her on the elbow. “Momma, it's the phone. Ruth Goldstein's callin' from LA, she says.”

“Well, it's about damn time.” Darlene heaved herself out of the chair. “You watch young Sammy now, make sure he don't break his neck.”

“All right, Momma.”

Hustling inside, Darlene picked up the receiver from the counter. “Ruth honey, is that you? I thought you done forgot me.”

The line quality wasn't the best, but she could tell that Ruth wasn't happy about something. “I didn't forget you, Darlene. I just called to say that I'm sorry. You were right. You were right about everything.”

Darlene's eyes widened. “Hell, girl. You a'right? That man hurt you? If he has, I'm gonna come on down there an' -”

“No, I'm fine. It's basically my fault, anyway. He didn't break up with me. I broke up with him.”

“Well, good, but why? What made ya see sense?”

“Because he's a … a …”

“A what? A jerk?”

“An asshole.” Darlene blinked. She'd never heard Ruth cuss before. “He just liked sleeping with me because of the, uh -”

“The sex?” Darlene chuckled. “You can say the word, swee'pea. You ain't twelve, ya know.”

“Yeah, that. The sex. He never loved me. He just liked sleeping with me because … because I'm Jewish and because I let him do stuff, and … oh god, I feel so dirty.” She sounded like she was going to cry.

“So when are ya comin' back to Seattle? I'll take ya out an' about an' we can bitch about men an' how worthless they are.”

There was a long pause. “I'm … uh, I'm not coming back. I can't. I wanted to quit, but they won't let me out of my contract.”

Darlene whistled. “Two years. Under a boss ya don't like.”

“And even if I did get out, he said he could blacklist me so I didn't get another surgeon's position anywhere in the country.”

“God damn, girl! How hard did you break up with him, anyways?”

“I … uh, I might have kind of slapped him. So hard he fell over.”

“Sounds ta me he's th' worst kinda boss. Th' kind that holds a grudge.”

“Basically, yes.” She paused. “He did say I could maybe shorten it, by going back to him. But I'm not going to do that. Not ever.”

Despite the fact that Ruth couldn't see her, Darlene shook her head. “Yeah, no, bad idea. He could string ya on for ages, always promisin' an' never deliverin'. You just sit tight, do your job, an' wait him out. Contract runs out, you outta there.”

“Yeah, that's the plan.” She heard the sound of a sigh. “Well, thanks for listening. I just wanted to let you know what was happening. And to make sure that I wasn't being stupidly stubborn.”

“That's okay, honey.” Darlene searched for something comforting to say. “If you was the type ta go back ta him in spite of what he said, you an' me wouldn't be friends.”

“Thanks. That means a lot to me. I've got to go. Bye.”

“Bye, honey. Thanks for callin'. You take care now, hear?”

“I'll do that. Thanks. Bye.”

Darlene hung up the phone and went back out on to the porch, muttering darkly to herself. Wisely, her daughter gave her a wide berth for the rest of the afternoon. When Momma was in a 'mood', it was a good idea to walk carefully around her.

-ooo-

Los Angeles

Aster hung up the phone, then picked it up again and fed more coins into the slot. This time she dialled a number in New Hampshire. The phone at the other end rang several times, then someone answered breathlessly. “Hi, Sally speaking, who is this?”

“Uh, hi, Sally. You're Nina's roommate, aren't you? This is Ruth Goldstein.”

“Oh, uh, Ruth. Hi. Yeah, Nina's here. Nina! Ruth's on the phone. Whoops, gotta go.”

The phone was dropped, on to a sofa by the sound of it. Aster heard a faint “give me back my dress!” before the phone was picked up again. “Arjee, hi. What's up?”

Despite her own troubles, Aster had to ask the question. “Do I want to know what's going on at that end?”

Nina chuckled. “Rose was getting ready to go out. Sally stole her favourite party dress. Rose has been chasing her around the apartment, trying to get it back. It's getting silly.”

“Oh. Right.” Aster had to chuckle. “And you're in the middle of it all.”

“Lucky me. So what's the matter?”

“You know that favour you're doing me, Neens? Well, it turns out that I might not be able to make it out to Brockton Bay once you locate her. At least for a little while.”

“ … okay. I guess. What happened?”

“Well, long story short, you know how I was seeing the guy who's kinda gonna be my boss?”

“ … you didn't tell me about the boss part.”

Aster blinked. “Uh. Sorry. I meant to. Anyway. Turns out that he's an asshole. The bedroom stuff was great, but then I got an earful of what he really thought of me, and it's turned me right off him. But he's not letting me out of the contract. So I'm stuck in LA for two years.” Somehow, it felt easier to vent to Nina than to Darlene.

“Shit. Fuck me, you manage to pick 'em, don't you?”

“Don't remind me.” She hadn't been heartbroken when the guy she lost her virginity to had decided to immediately expand his horizons, but it did kind of hurt, a bit. “Anyway, I should still be open for vacation days to get out there when and if you locate her, but …”

“But don't count on it?”

Aster sighed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It's okay. I'll manage.”

“I'll get out there as soon as I can. Promise.”

“Sure. But once this is all sorted out, you'll owe me an explanation of what the hell's going on.”

Which would be a good trick, given that Aster only knew about half the story. She had no idea what Weaver's side of it would be. “ … I'll see what I can do.”

“You better.”

“Thanks, Neens. You're the best.”

“I know. Bye. Take care.”

“You too. Bye.”

Aster hung up the phone once more, and sagged against the side of the booth. Okay. What do I do now?

By some miracle, there was still a phone book in the booth. She opened it, looking for real estate companies. Time to start looking for apartments.

-ooo-

Monday, 6 February 1989

“Why, Doctor Goldstein, what a nice surprise!”

Aster turned at the sound of his voice, schooling her features into an expression of mild interest. She had managed to avoid Friedrich for the first three days, but it appeared that he had tracked her down.

“Doctor Friedrich,” she replied coolly. “Imagine seeing you here.”

“Well, as it happens,” he said cheerfully, “I work here.” He paused for a beat, the continued in a mock-surprised tone. “Oh, wait. So do you.”

“Indeed.” She gave him what might have been mistaken for a smile in poor light. “Sorry I can't stay and chat, but Nurse Hendricks is giving me the tour.”

“Oh, that's all right.” He gestured to himself. “I'm happy to take over.”

And I bet you give me a tour of all the deserted supply rooms. “No, no, we're good. Nurse Hendricks is an excellent guide.”

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. “No, I insist. Hendricks, you can go now.”

The nurse, who had been observing the back-and-forth between the two doctors with a slightly puzzled air, made her escape. Aster watched her go, then glanced back at Friedrich. There was nobody else around at that moment, so she felt free to say what was on her mind.

“I hope you realise that just because I'm working for you, it doesn't mean that I'm going to be sleeping with you.”

“Oh, I'd never ask that of anyone,” he protested. “Not unless they wanted to, of course.”

Well, I was willing to begin with, I have to admit. Right up until I found out what sort of a person he really was.

“Good.” It was the most neutral thing she could think of to say.

“Of course, we both know that you want to,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “So why don't we locate an empty examination room and find out how much we've missed each other?”

Right. Examination room, not supply room.

“Why don't we not?” she retorted. “And what makes you think I want to be anywhere near you, after the stunt you pulled with the contract?”

“Contract?” he asked, his expression so innocent that she knew he was faking it. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

I swear, if he so much as touches me, I'm giving him a third degree burn.

“Okay, let's go with that.” She gave him a level stare. “But lay one hand on me, and I'll see exactly how far I can get with a lawsuit for sexual harassment.”

“Well, then -” he began, but the PA system chose that moment to cut in.

“Doctor Friedrich to the ER. Code Blue. Doctor Friedrich to the ER.”

“Sounds like they're playing your song,” she pointed out.

He shot her a dark glance. “This isn't over.”

No, she told herself as he hustled away. It's not.

-ooo-

Tuesday, 16 May 1989

“Isn't Doctor Friedrich just gorgeous?” murmured the trainee nurse, turning her head to watch as the chief of surgery sauntered past. Aster was so strongly reminded of herself that she had to fight down a wince.

“Don't believe everything you see, Marilee,” she cautioned the girl. And girl she was; she couldn't be a day over eighteen.

Marilee turned wide, cornflower-blue eyes to her. “But he's so nice,” she protested. “Nurse Hendricks was giving me a hard time over not being able to make a bed properly, and he stopped her from being so mean to me.”

Aster pressed her lips together. “And did he have a talk to you? Then or later?” She wanted to blurt out more, but she kept herself under control.

“Oh, yes,” breathed Marilee. “He was so understanding.”

“I'll just bet he was,” Aster replied. How was I ever this naïve? “Marilee, there's something you need to know.”

“What?” asked the trainee, turning that wide, innocent gaze on her. “Is there something going on between you and Doctor Friedrich? Because if there is, I totally understand.”

Aster sighed. “No. There isn't. There was, but I broke it off. Because he's a user.”

Marilee looked confused. “What, drugs? Doctor Friedrich?”

“No. Not drugs.” It would be a lot easier if it was drugs. “He uses women. He's good at making them feel like they're the absolute centre of his universe, but it's all an act. He doesn't love them. I don't think he knows how to love. Except himself, of course,” she added, more to herself than to the trainee. “He's good at that.”

“No.” Marilee shook her head. “No, I won't believe that. Not about Henry.” A moment later, realising her slip, she slapped her hand over her mouth.

“'Henry', hmm?” Aster smiled wryly. “Okay, don't believe me. That's your option. But listen carefully. Here are the lines he uses on women. Stop me if any of these sound familiar.” Slowly and carefully, she began quoting some of the phrases that Friedrich had used to great effect on her, both before and after he had gotten her into bed. As she spoke, Marilee's eyes grew wider and wider.

“Ohmigawd, ohmigawd,” she gasped, through the muffling hand she still held over her mouth. “That's what he said! That's what he said! All of it!” Dropping her hand, she lowered her voice to a whisper that was possibly louder than her normal voice. “How did you know?”

Aster smiled sadly. “Because I've been where you are. And I didn't believe the person who told me that he couldn't be trusted. I only found out the truth after I slept with him.”

“Oh.” Marilee seemed lost for words, so Aster pressed on.

“Tell the other trainees. Friedrich is a good doctor and a fine surgeon, but there's one thing he'll never do, and that's respect you in the morning. Or ever.”

Marilee nodded seriously. “Okay, I'll do that. And thanks, Doctor Goldstein.”

Aster smiled. “That's fine.” She watched the girl walk away, and chuckled quietly to herself.

Let's see how he likes that.

-ooo-

Wednesday, 2 August 1989

“Ruth, we need to talk.”

Turning to face Friedrich, Aster mentally counted the rest of the bags of saline in the fridge – she had a perfect mental picture of them, of course – and wrote down the number on the clipboard. “I'm sorry, Doctor Friedrich, did you need me for something?”

“Yes. We need to talk. Now.” His jaw had that particular tension that told Aster he was upset. She had been seeing that on him a lot, recently. Good.

“Can it wait?” she asked innocently. “I'm just in the middle of inventory -”

“Screw inventory!” he snapped in a harsh whisper. “You're spreading tales behind my back and it stops right now!”

“Tales?” She stared at him. “Is someone spreading lies about you? That's terrible!” Recalling Marilee, she opened her eyes wide in pretended bewilderment.

He clenched his teeth. “I know it's you.”

“Really?” She dropped the act. “Tell me what I'm supposed to have done, and I'll tell you if I did it.”

“Talking about me behind my back,” he ground out.

She snorted in amusement. “Everyone talks about everyone else behind their backs. Have you heard the gossip in this place?”

A vein was beginning to pulse in his forehead. “You've been saying damaging things about me in front of the trainee nurses!”

“Damaging things?” She tilted her head. “What sort of damaging things? I mean, I've been talking to them, yes. But it's not like I can't talk to them. I'm a doctor, they're nurses. It's kind of a thing.”

He looked like he wanted to hit her. Go ahead, buster. I won't even hurt you. I'll just sue you into the ground. “You've been … telling them … things.”

“Doctor Friedrich, I'm afraid you're not being clear,” she said as innocently as she could manage. “What sort of things have I been telling them? Are they untrue?”

She was pretty sure that if he ground his teeth together any harder, his orthodontist was going to be making a fortune. “Christ fuck, Ruth. You've been telling them about me and you! That's inappropriate at the best of times! Boasting about having slept with the chief of surgery, that's just … wrong!”

“You're wrong, Doctor Friedrich,” she told him softly. “I wasn't boasting.”

“Well, however you're doing it, stop it!”

“You could always fire me,” she suggested sweetly. “I won't fight it. But there's enough people who've seen you talking to me that I could make a very strong case that you're trying to get back together with me, and that you're firing me because I won't let you.”

“And so?” he demanded.

“And so the penalty clause for defaulting on the contract won't apply,” she pointed out.

“But you'll still be blacklisted.”

She smiled bitterly. “It'll be worth it. Am I fired?”

For a long moment, he stared at her. “No. But I don't want you talking to the trainee nurses about me, either.”

She showed him her teeth. “I'll want that in writing, Doctor Friedrich. Now, if you're done, I have inventory to get back to.”

Leaving him staring at her back, she walked away down the corridor. There was no way in hell that he would give her such an order in writing, she knew. Doctors needed to talk to nurses.

Of course, she was still stuck working for him, so it was at best a stalemate.

For now.

-ooo-

Wednesday, 18 October 1989

Oh, my aching feet.

Aster stumbled in through the front door of her apartment, making sure to lock it behind her – super-powers or not, there was such a thing as tempting fate – then collapsed into the armchair she'd found at a thrift store. One arm-rest leaked stuffing everywhere, but it was still the most comfortable chair she'd ever owned.

Three fourteen-hour shifts, back to back. I'm pretty sure that's illegal.

Carefully, she eased her shoes off, then stretched out her feet and wiggled her toes. Now that the weight was off them, she knew that they'd hurt worse for a while before they got better. But at least the cool air was on them now.

I must be putting a crimp in Friedrich's love life. I can't think of any other reason for him to be changing my shifts around all the time. The overtime's nice, but my feet still ache.

Resting her feet on the ottoman, she leaned the armchair back and let the tension drain out of her. Just a five minute rest, then a shower, then dinner, then bed.

The five minutes turned into ten and then fifteen, but she was so comfortable that she didn't care. Her eyelids began to drift shut. It wasn't the first time she'd slept in that chair, and it probably wouldn't be the last -

Thunder crashed and lightning flared. Torrential rain poured into a heaving, storm-wracked ocean. Amid wreckage and wind-driven spray, a teenage girl in a blue and white costume struggled to swim, to stay afloat -

Aster came awake with a gasping cry, her eyes wide. It was so real! What was it?

Memory caught up with the dream, and she realised. “That was Taylor Hebert. She's here. Now.”

It's been twenty-eight years, but she's finally arrived.

Now all I've got to do is find her. And save the world. 

Part 5-7