8

Chapter 8

I, Panacea

Part Eight: Facing the Music

Amy mulled over the descriptions of the types of bugs that Michael had suggested to her.

I could make these?

You could definitely make these. I've seen you do it.

When you say 'me' …

… I mean the previous version of you, yes. But it's still you. Still able to do it.

I … still not sure if I should. After all, she's a villain.

His voice was very dry. In about the same way that Sophia Hess is a hero.

That jolted her. I'll accept it when you say that Shadow Stalker's a bully, sure, but -

She's also repeatedly attempted to murder Grue.

You're joking.

Nope. His powers interfere with hers, so she's decided that he needs to die. She uses lethal arrows at every chance, to try to kill him. Not arrest, not capture. Kill.

Amy took a deep breath. You're actually serious about this. This is so against the unwritten rules.

Silently, he made a rude noise. Like she cares about those. Next time you get a chance, do a body read on him. He has a scar on his stomach from a through-and-through wound. Shadow Stalker shot him there with a lethal arrow, after she joined the Wards.

Fuck. Amy rarely swore; this was an indication of how shaken she was. Has she ever actually killed anyone?

At least one that I know of, but that was basically an accident. Possibly more. There was the guy she nearly killed, the one that got her into the Wards. And then there's the people she's let it happen to, because they were too scared to fight back -

No, no, wait, what? Shadow Stalker?

He sighed. Yeah, see, her personal philosophy is that the strong survive, and the weak don't deserve to. If you're being attacked, mugged, raped, whatever, if you're too scared to fight back, then she doesn't stop them. She just watches, then presumably comes in afterward and kicks their asses. But unless you prove you're willing to fight back, she won't lift a finger to help you while it's happening.

Amy shook her head, just a little, not wanting to get anyone's attention. That's wrong on so many levels.

Well, yeah. His tone was almost matter of fact. She also caused Taylor's trigger event.

Amy had thought she couldn't be shocked any more. Do I want to know?

Probably not. His tone was contemplative. I'll just hit the high points. You know about the bullying.

Yes, I recall. Amy's tone was cautious. She could not imagine any act of bullying so egregious that it would trigger powers in someone.

Okay. January third. Her locker had been 'somehow' filled with the contents of the special bins found in the girls' bathrooms, over the holidays. With me so far?

Unfortunately, she was. Did Sophia do that?

His tone was almost cheerful. Easiest way, isn't it? So, she smells the smell. Opens the locker. Goes to toss her cookies. Sophia grabs her by the hair and shoves her in the locker. Locks her in. Leaves her there. She doesn't get let out until the janitor gets told, after an hour or more.

Amy's eyes went wide, and she put a hand over her own mouth. Oh my fucking God. That's a trigger event, right there.

Sure as hell was. First and second triggers, one after the other.

Oh god. Amy was no expert, but she knew about both types of triggers, and the sort of stimuli needed for each one. And Shadow Stalker did that?

Signs point to 'yes'.

Oh god. Oh my god. And I thought the Wards were so nice.

He sighed again. Most of them are. Kid Win loves being a Tinker, but he doesn't know what his specialty is yet. Clockblocker is a smartarse, but his dad's got leukaemia. He's gonna ask Vicky to ask you about helping him, sometime in late May, after - He cut himself off.

After what?

After something else happens. Right now, not a huge concern. But yeah, Clockblocker. Not a bad kid. Vista, she's good at what she does. More experience than most. Prefers her hero life over civilian life. Her parents are on the outs with each other. Browbeat's a little on the cold side, but that's just the way he is. Aegis and Gallant are good people, too. The only really bad apple in the bunch is Shadow Stalker.

Amy felt relief that her judgement had been not found totally wanting. So she's an isolated case, then?

Not so much,he told her. Taylor went to Armsmaster before the bank robbery. Her intention was always to infiltrate, to be a mole. She asked him to give her an assurance that if it went wrong, if they were captured, she wouldn't go to jail. This is after she let him take credit for Lung.

Amy had a feel for the way this was going. He said no?

Got it in one. Called her a stupid girl. So then she stuck with it, continued to gather information. If things go as they probably will, in a while there'll be more clashes with the PRT and Protectorate, which the Undersiders will win, mostly because Taylor's a friggin' tactical genius when it comes to her bugs.

Oh boy.

So, anyway, during the next Endbringer battle, Armsmaster sets it up so she'll be killed. Only, she isn't. He nearly dies, but she saves his life. And then she takes on Leviathan, hand to hand, more or less.

Holy shit. She takes on fucking Leviathan?

Well, she shoves Armsmaster's halberd up Leviathan's arse, and gets her back broken for her trouble, and she nearly dies, but yeah.

Amy was nearly lost for words. Jesus Christ.

He chuckled. Basically, yeah. That's when she accidentally finds out who Shadow Stalker is. And then, because she refuses to unmask in return, they're all threatening her with the Birdcage. When Lisa more or less blackmails them into pulling their heads in, Armsmaster turns around and outs her to the Undersiders.

Outs her?

Tells them that she only joined in order to betray them.

Oh, that's just … wow. He is a dick.

Yyyup.

When she next spoke, she was more contemplative. I can see why she wouldn't unmask. If Sophia's got it in for her that badly, if she knew who she was under the mask …

Correct. In fact, afterward, Sophia goes hunting Skitter, with the express purpose of killing her. Holds her down and tries to cut her throat.

Tries?

Spider silk is pretty well knife proof, it seems.

Oh. Well. She tried to haul her mind back on track. So, all this has yet to happen?

It might not happen. A lot of it won't now, given that you've reached out to the Undersiders, and that Taylor knows what she knows, and what you and Vicky are going to do tomorrow at Winslow.

Because of you.

Yeah. And hopefully you'll be willing to help me make a lot more changes. Help people out, save the world, that sort of thing.

Amy blinked. I … wow. Save the world?

Not all at once, he assured her. One step at a time. But will you give it a try?

She drew a deep breath. I … guess I can, at that.

He smiled. Excellent. Isn't this your stop?

Oh. Oh, wow, it is too. She scrambled up and out of the seat, and only just made it off the bus before the doors closed.

The house loomed large before Amy. She took a deep breath before starting up the path to the front door.

I don't suppose you have any advice for getting through the next half hour?

His tone was grimly amused. I did suggest asking for a place to stay, with the Undersiders.

You did. Maybe I should have done that.

Or you could stay with Taylor and her dad. They're good people.

I – what? She was moderately startled. Would that even work?

Did last time. You and Taylor ended up great friends.

I mean, would that even work, this time?

Hm. He thought about it. Maybe we can look into it, tomorrow. But right now, maybe you should open the door. Amusement tinged his voice. Unless you plan on sleeping on the lawn tonight.

She blinked, realising that she was standing on the front step, staring at the door. Fishing out her keys, she unlocked the door, and let herself in.

The first voice she heard was Vicky's. "Amy! You're back!"

This was followed by the appearance of her sister, wearing a robe over pyjamas, as she ambush-hugged Amy, and held her tight. "I've been so worried about you!"

Amy patted Vicky's back; she was going to go for a hug, but her hands instead worked to extricate her from the embrace. "I'm okay, Vicky, really," she heard her voice say. "Just a bit tired, all right?"

What the hell are you doing? Why can't I hug my sister?

Because she's in her pyjamas, and I'm not hugging a sixteen year old girl in her pyjamas if I can possibly help it. And yes, I saw what you were thinking when you went to hug her. We are not going there.

You said you weren't going to take over my body without my permission. You lied to me!

A sigh of resignation. Yeah, I promised you that, didn't I. She felt control return. Just remember what I said. Bad things happen if you keep going down this path.

Wait, you didn't tell me anything about that!

I didn't? Fuck, I didn't. I'm getting my timelines mixed up. Look, if you keep thinking that you and Vicky have a chance, then bad things happen. She's not interested. Barring pretty extreme circumstances, she never will be interested.

Vicky was eyeing her. "Amy, are you okay? You kind of zoned for a moment there."

Amy nodded. "Yeah … things have been happening. I've kind of got a lot to think about." She put her arms around Vicky, and felt her sister returning the hug. But she didn't make it as deep, or as long, as she could have.

I'm going to need more explanation than that. A lot more.

You probably won't thank me for it.

I'll take that chance.

Carol was the next to appear. "Amy, where have you been?" Her voice was sharp and disapproving. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

Amy rolled her eyes. "You mean, you need to talk at me, and Mark will sit there and nod his head occasionally."

Vicky stared at her. Carol's jaw dropped. Even Michael seemed to be taken aback. Ouch.

To give her credit, her foster mother recovered quickly. "What's gotten into you? You will not speak to me like that."

Amy looked her in the eye. "Tell me that's not exactly how it's going to go down."

"Amy Dallon!" snapped Carol. "You do not get to speak to us like you did earlier, then storm out of the house, and come back with more … more … "

"Backchat?" suggested Amy, feeling as though she was riding the crest of a wave. She knew she was going to crash, and crash hard, really soon, but right now she was flying. "Insolence? Truth?"

"Amy!" protested Vicky. "Don't talk to Mom like that. She's your mother too, you know."

Amy snorted. "In name only. And my name's not Amy Dallon. It's Amelia Claire Lavere. We may as well use it, from now on. Seeing that I know the truth."

Carol shook her head. "I always knew this day would come," she observed, more to herself than to anyone else. "I just didn't think it would come this soon."

Vicky frowned at her. "What day? And who's Amelia Claire Lavere?"

"I am," Amy told her. "This may come as a surprise to you, but Tattletale, back in the bank? She was telling the truth. I'm a supervillain's daughter."

"Yeah, I know," Vicky replied, surprising her slightly. "Mom told me. Marquis."

"Wow, fucking thanks, Carol," Amy responded. "You tell Vicky, but you can't be bothered telling me?"

Carol opened her mouth to reply, but Vicky got there first. "This afternoon," she added hastily. "She told me this afternoon, after you left."

Taken aback, Amy blinked. "Oh. Okay then."

"I only did it so that Victoria would be fully informed once you returned," Carol informed her tartly. "Though where you got that name from is beyond me. It's only written down in three places that I know of, and you don't have access to any of them."

Amy let a smile curl her lips. She imagined that it might look a little like Tattletale's know-it-all smile. "Let's just say, I have access to information sources that you don't know about."

Carol's eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to villains."

Amy's eyes widened. How the hell does she know about that?

Michael seemed equally surprised. I have no idea.

"Villains?" Amy squeaked, through a suddenly-constricted throat.

"His old allies," Carol clarified bitterly. "They finally contacted you, didn't they? Looking to see if you'll take up where your father left off?"

There was a long moment as the realisation soaked into Amy's brain. Then she burst out laughing. Looking around, she found a chair and sat down, still chuckling.

"This is no laughing matter," Carol told her severely. "If Marquis' old organisation -"

Amy shook her head, letting the occasional snicker escape. "No, Carol. I haven't been contacted by any of Marquis' crew. I wouldn't even know who they are. I don't think they even exist any more. Anyway, I'm not about to become a supervillain. That's not in my life plan."

Unless, you know, you join the Undersiders.

Shut up. That's different, and you know it.

Vicky knelt beside her. "Then what is going on, Amy? Something's different, and you're scaring me."

Amy took a deep breath. "Can we go into the living room? I think we're all going to need to be sitting down for this."

They sat on the two sofas, on either side of the coffee table, facing one another. Carol sat on one sofa, with Mark beside her, with Amy opposite. Vicky went to sit beside her mother, visibly changed her mind, and sat beside Amy, although she maintained a certain distance.

Well, at least it's not three to one. How are you going to play this?

Amy's internal voice was a lot less sure than her outward facade. By ear, I guess. Any help?

When and if I can.

Thanks.

Carol opened the running, her voice harsh. "We're all here. Care to explain your actions?"

Amy was about to answer, when Michael broke in. Make Mark ask the questions.

What?

Tell her you'll only talk to Mark, not her. That brings him into this, and slows her down.

Oh. Yeah. Okay.

Amy took a deep breath. "Carol … you're a lawyer. You've got experience in tearing people apart on the witness stand. I'm not going to answer your questions." She looked at her foster father. "But I'll answer them from you."

Mark, who had been staring into the distance, blinked and roused himself. "Hmm, what?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" snapped Carol.

Amy raised an eyebrow. "So Mark doesn't have equal say with you?" It was true; she knew it was true, and so did Carol. But they both also knew that Carol wasn't about to admit it.

Her foster mother growled deep in her throat and turned to Mark. "Very well, dear. Ask her."

Mark looked mildly at Amy, and thought for a moment. "Sweetie, you were a bit rude to your mother, earlier. Maybe you should apologise to her."

Amy nodded. "I'm sorry for being rude to you, Carol. I apologise." Her voice was contrite, but inside, she was grinning broadly. Okay, that's just genius.

Nope, just knowing how to rig the game.

"Not that!" Carol snapped. "Tell her to explain her actions!"

Mark sighed. "Maybe you're being just a little harsh on her?"

Carol shook her head. "Mark, we need to know. So please, ask her."

Mark turned to look at Amy. "Honey, your mother wants to know why you acted like you did, earlier."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Okay, seeing as you asked so politely." She looked around at the three of them. "I've discovered some things about myself today. About myself and about some other stuff. My name is Amelia Claire Lavere. I'm the daughter of a superviillain. Marquis, to be exact, but you all knew that."

She paused; Vicky seemed to be hanging on her every word. Mark was gazing at her benignly. Only Carol made an impatient gesture. "Get on with it," she muttered.

"You named me Amy Dallon," Amy went on, locking eyes with Carol. "But that's not how you treated me. You didn't treat me like your daughter. You treated me like Marquis' daughter. Like a supervillain, ready to slap me down at the first sign of danger, of walking down the wrong path. Didn't you?"

"Well, it's true," Carol snapped back. "You are Marquis' daughter, and from all indications, his blood is coming out in you, just as I suspected it would."

Amy ignored her words and glanced significantly at Mark. He got the hint, and looked at his wife. "What do you want me to say, Carol?" he asked plaintively.

"Ask her where she found all this out," Carol replied, her eyes never leaving Amy. "Ask her who contacted her."

There was a long pause as Mark looked expectantly at Amy, and Amy returned the look. After a few moments, he seemed to realise that there was more expected of him. Not a good day to skip your meds, huh, Dad?

"Amy, your mother wants to know -"

She held up a finger. "Sorry, Mark, but I'm going to have to stop you right there. That's not true, and you know it. Carol isn't my mother, and you're not my father. I'm sorry to say it, but Carol's never acted like my mother, and you've only been a father on occasion."

He paused, then nodded. "I suppose that's fair," he agreed.

Carol stared at him. "Mark!" she exclaimed.

He looked at her and shrugged. "What am I supposed to say, Carol? I might be depressed, but I'm not stupid. You've never treated her the same as you've treated Vicky."

"And what if I haven't?" she demanded. "Look at her, the way she's acting. After all we've done for her -" They devolved into a low-voiced argument.

Amy became aware of Vicky's gaze. "Amy, I've been an all right sister, haven't I?" she asked quietly.

Amy nodded. "Yes, Vicky. You have." She swallowed a lump in her throat. "But -"

"But what?"

"I'll, uh, tell you later." She looked back at Carol and Mark.

Her foster father cleared his throat. "Uh, Carol wants to know who told you this information. Where you found it out."

She looked him in the eye. "I'm sorry, but I can not and will not give you that information."

Mark grimaced. "She really wants to know." From the thunderous look on Carol's face, that was the understatement of the year.

Amy heard her blood roaring in her ears. She had never, not ever, defied Carol and Mark like this before. It was liberating. It was terrifying.

Are you doing this?

Nope. It's all you.

I think I'm going to throw up.

If you do, aim at Carol.

She only just managed to stifle a wholly inappropriate giggle, and took a deep breath to settle herself. "And I really don't want to tell you. It wouldn't help the situation. In fact, telling you would only make it worse. Sorry."

Carol's eyes narrowed. "I'm going to have to insist."

"Uh, Amy," Mark responded. "She says -"

"I heard her," Amy replied. "But my name is Amelia Claire Lavere, and I'd really prefer you used it. And I don't care how much she insists, I'm not going to tell either of you where I learned my information. Because, in legal terms, that information is not germane to this case. Now, do you have any other questions you want to ask me?"

Carol's expression became more forbidding. "If you're not more forthcoming, young lady, penalties will be in order. Grounding, for a start."

Amy didn't reply; she just looked at Mark.

"Oh, uh," he began. "If you don't tell us where you got this information, you'll be grounded." He leaned forward, his expression pleading. "Don't make this hard on yourself, sweetie. We only want the best for you. Whoever told you this stuff might not have your best interests at heart."

Wow, good cop, bad cop. Took them long enough.

Yeah, with Carol, it's usually bad cop, bad cop.

"Well, whoever it was told me stuff that I'm better off for knowing," Amy told Mark steadily. "And which you guys were keeping from me. So who's got my best interests at heart, again?"

Silence, while Carol regrouped. Amy could see her expression changing second by second as she thought furiously.

"Fine," she gritted at last. "What did this person tell you, exactly? He or she might have given you false information. We might need to clear that up. Any misconceptions."

Mark took up his cue. "Sweetie – Amelia," he corrected himself. He ignored the sharp glance that Carol shot him, and went on. "Did this person tell you anything else that's important? We might need to know."

She nodded to acknowledge his use of her name, then considered her reply. "I was told some other stuff, yes," she agreed cautiously. "But I believe it all to be true. And if you decide that it's false, and you act on it, you could cause problems."

"If you tell us, and it's important enough, we could help you with whatever it is," Mark urged.

She looked him in the eye. "And can you guarantee that Carol will accept whatever I say without question? Because some of it's some pretty way-out stuff."

"My job is to question," gritted Carol.

"Which is a no," Amy confirmed. "Which means that I can't tell you a lot of the stuff that I learned."

Mark frowned. "Sweetie – what stuff? How did you learn it?"

Amy shook her head. "I can't tell you that. But I got it all from the same place that I got my name and who my father really is. And I believe, totally, in its accuracy."

Wow, thanks. I'm touched.

A fleeting smile. You've been a lot more up front with me than they have. And you kept your promise, and gave me control back.

Carol compressed her lips. "I'm beginning to think that there's something more at play, here. Ever since you hit your head -"

Amy rolled her eyes. "You're acting like I was just clumsy or something. I was hit on the head by a supervillain and knocked out. After she held a knife to my throat."

Mark frowned. "Why didn't you use your powers?"

"Full body costume, Dad," Vicky put in. "Armoured too, by the looks of it."

"Huh, wow," he replied. "That's the bug controller?"

Amy nodded. "They're calling her Skitter."

"Sounds creepy," he observed.

Vicky shook her head. "Oh, trust me. You have no idea."

Amy snorted. "You think you had it bad? Clockblocker had bugs crawl in under his eyelids."

"Clockblocker?" asked Vicky, her brow wrinkling. "But he wears a full-face helmet -"

"Swapped with Aegis, to put them off guard," Amy informed her. "But I'm guessing someone figured it out."

"We're getting off track here," snapped Carol. "Amy, you've been acting strangely since this Skitter hit you and knocked you out. I suspect some sort of outside influence."

Vicky looked startled. "What, like a Master?"

"Seriously?" Amy snapped. "I get hit on the head, I learn some stuff, I act a bit differently because of what I learn, and all of a sudden it's Master/Stranger protocols? What are you gonna do? Lock me in my room until you find out what's going on? Because honestly, that shit isn't going to fly."

Well, to be honest, you were under a sort of Master influence for a bit there.

It wasn't a Master, it was you. Which makes it an inside influence, not an outside one.

Wow, semantics even. I love it.

Oh, shush, you.

"Maybe the hit on the head jarred some memories loose," Mark theorised. "And you remembered things that you'd forgotten. Add some concussion in there, and bingo."

Should we pop that balloon, or let them think that's that for a while?

I guess? I don't know.

"A concussion that causes delusions? We're going to need you to be checked out, in that case," decided Carol briskly. Her glance spoke volumes.

To make sure you don't become dangerous, right.

Wow, you really know how to read Mom.

A grin. I've got thirty years on you in that regard.

What's your mom like?

She's nice. You'd like her.

She became aware that Carol and Mark were watching her expectantly. "What?"

"Uh, Carol has suggested that you get your head checked out, to see if the damage is more problematic than we first thought," Mark explained. "Are you all right with this?"

"And if I'm not," Amy noted, "you're likely to think that something more sinister is going on with me, right?" Her eyes cut sideways to Carol. "Whereas mom of the year, over there, starts with that basic assumption."

Wow, ouch. Did you mean to actually say that out loud?

Um, no, not really?

Mark's tone hardened. "Amelia, please don't be impolite to your mo – to Carol. I'm doing my best to be fair, here. Could you please answer the question?"

You know, he really is.

Okay, yeah, true. A lot more fair than she is.

Amy nodded, conceding the point. "Okay, sure. I suppose it wouldn't be a bad idea to make sure I'm not bleeding into my brain or something." She took a breath. "And sorry, Carol. I didn't mean to be rude."

He smiled. "Good." A sideways glance at Carol. "Is that good enough for you, honey?"

The look on Carol's face stated that it really wasn't, but she nodded reluctantly. "Good enough for the time being," she conceded.

"I'll phone the doctor, to make an appointment for tomorrow after school," Mark decided, getting up. Carol got up also, muttering something about cooking dinner. They both exited the living room, leaving Amy and Vicky alone.

Vicky eyed her closely. "Are you really all right?" she asked solicitously.

Amy nodded. "Better than I have been for a while, actually," she assured her sister. "Oh, I'll go along and let the doctor look at me. But that's not what's causing this."

"Then what is?" asked Vicky, her expression curious.

For a moment, Amy considered telling her, then shook her head. "Sorry. You probably wouldn't believe me. Maybe later, when things are different."

"Man," Vicky observed, looking her up and down. "Mom wasn't wrong. You've changed. More self-confident. I think I like it."

Amy smiled. "Thanks. I think I like it, too."

Now to go off and hide in a corner until I stop shaking.

Yeah. I know how that goes.

Spontaneously, Amy hugged Vicky. "Thanks," she murmured.

Vicky was surprised, but she hugged Amy back anyway. "Wow, okay. What for?"

"For supporting me," Amy told her. "For taking my side. For being my sister."

Vicky cheerfully tousled Amy's hair before letting her go. "Hey, what are sisters for?"

Amy smiled, but she was already thinking of what was going to happen later that night.

End of Part Eight