Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It’s not exactly an unpredictable situation, if she’s being completely honest with herself. And, actually, there had been a part of her that had known going into it that going out alone was probably going to get her in trouble, but she needed a drink and she was new to the area and she certainly wasn’t going to drag her hypervocal newlywed coworker (Diane? Dinah?) out with her for fear of having to hear another story about ‘the honeymoon to end all honeymoons’.

So Hope’s at the bar alone and she’s not exactly surprised when the beery overweight business exec takes the stool next to her, just a little annoyed. He’s belligerent from the start when she refuses to let him buy her a drink (most likely because if he doesn’t buy her a drink she can’t owe him sex), but she manages to keep her cool until she stands to leave and he stands to follow with his hand on her lower back.

She doesn’t even know his name, that’s how hard she’s been ignoring him for the past twenty minutes.

“You have three seconds to stop touching me before I break your fingers,” she snarls, shoulders tensing.

“Come on, sweetheart-”

“Alright, one second,” she changes her mind, grabs his wrist, spins and twists her hand.

And something happens.

She had meant to cause him pain, sure, but not this. In the space of half a second her fingers get hot, her whole arm gets hot and starts to tingle and there’s a flash of light where they’re touching before her skeezy admirer lets out a scream and yanks out of her grip.

There are perfect little black circles on his wrist where she touched him, the skin around rimmed in an angry red, and instinctively she knows that they’re burns.

Her hand stings again and she stumbles out of the bar clutching her purse to her, unable to breathe until she slams the door of her apartment shut a full ten minutes later. She’s shaking so hard it’s a surprise to her that she even managed to get home- and once she is home, she collapses against the door, panicking and trembling and staring at her hands even as they give off a muted glow.

The glow starts at the pads of her fingers, where it’s strongest, but feathers out along each finger and along her palms and disappears under the sleeves of her shirt. Tentatively, she touches the wood floor next to her, then immediately yanks back when a crackle goes up her arm.

There’s a burn mark on the floor.

.,.

Every few minutes Kelley sneaks into the kitchen to try and steal one of the brownies cooling on the rack, and every few minutes Becky pops up out of nowhere and raises an eyebrow at her until she gives up in a huff. Abby’s slaving over two simultaneous pots of spaghetti and Lauren and Christie are attempting to set the table, but every time they do Heather and Sydney move something so when they come back they can’t tell which places are set and which aren’t.

It’s a pretty typical night.

Well, it’s typical for a while- loud, mostly. Tobin and Amy and Lauren are the ones to pray, as usual, but they never make anyone else do it and people join whenever they want to. Christie’s at the head of the table, where she can keep an eye on everyone even though she very rarely disciplines. The brownies are still in the kitchen and Kelley is still after them when Christie calls everyone to attention and the room falls silent almost immediately.

“We need to be on the lookout,” she says. She waits for anyone to speak but nobody does, they just blink at her so she leans back a little and expounds.

“There are still five empty beds in this place, and I want to fill them if I can.”

Megan shifts a little in her chair.

“How do we know that there are five random people with powers even out there? What if we’re it?”

“You know, I asked myself that when I found Shannon and Abby. I asked myself that for a long time, but every time I do it seems like there’s someone else. This is a big city. I’m not saying we need to actively post advertisements,” that gets a laugh, if a little one, “I’m just asking that we do some casual patrols. Just keep your eyes open.”

Mostly the ‘patrols’ become excuses to go out, which Christie expected and doesn’t mind as long as everyone’s careful. Kelley and Alex and Tobin go out together enough for it to become obvious that they’re just out on the town, and Abby’s the one that points it out two weeks later. She’s afraid they’re going to expose themselves, and she’s afraid they’re not ready to integrate, but Christie dismisses it with a shrug: “They’re kids with superpowers, but they’re still kids. It’s not fair to ask them not to enjoy themselves like other people their age. There’s already so much they can’t do.”

It’s a good thing nobody thinks to explain that to Kelley, because she integrates like she’s never been separated at all. She drags the other two to clubs, where Alex lets go and dances and gets nostalgic for college and nights without nightmares, and Tobin watches them and mostly watches Alex and smiles so hard that her face hurts by the time they go home. Alex takes them to ice cream places- they travel the whole city sampling as many as they can- and makes fun of Tobin for getting something plain almost as much as she makes fun of Kelley for her unconventional flavor choices.

“You don’t go to an ice cream place to get fruit sorbet,” she insists, digging into her salted caramel, and Kelley ignores her hard enough to make Tobin laugh.

Tobin takes them church-hunting.

She’s pentecostal but nobody would know that because she doesn’t label herself as anything other than Christian. Alex and Kelley humor her because there’s something about churches- Baptist, Catholic, Presbyterian- that soothes them all. Something quiet and cavernous and safe that makes them feel small. For Tobin, it’s the reminder that there’s something bigger than her that makes it easier to live life separate from most of the rest of the world around her. Sometimes it feels like they’re the last line of defense- and sometimes when they lose people to fires or shootings or car accidents she feels like a failure for not being able to help- but in the end it’s the reminder of God that humbles her and strengthens her all at once.

For Alex it’s seeing Tobin change. For Kelley it’s the quiet, because there’s never any for her, in her head or otherwise.

.,.

Carli takes herself out alone, because everyone else is either busy or not taking the patrols seriously. Not that she doesn’t like Megan and Sydney, or even Alex and Tobin and Kelley, but she gets the feeling that something is at stake and doesn’t like being inactive about it. Patrolling with Abby would be a good idea except that Abby always goes out with Shannon and Barnie and four’s too many, even by her own standards, to stay inconspicuous.

There’s nothing conspicuous about her when she goes out alone. She makes sure of that. She dresses just like everyone else and she sticks earbuds in her ears but attached to nothing, so she can hear just fine in case she needs to. The thing is, sound isn’t usually a good indicator- the trick is to look.

There’s so much that the average person misses, especially in their rush-hour New York mindset. There are a lot of eyes downcast and there’s a lot of jostling. The quickest way to pick out someone different is if they’re still.

That’s how Carli finds Hope.

She decides to follow the bus route so that she can check out the bus stops, because that gives her a captive audience. Hope isn’t waiting for a bus, it’s just that it’s raining and she can’t be bothered to get herself wet so she’s sheltering under a bus stop and watching people walk by and wondering what the hell she’s supposed to do with herself.

She’d quit her job the morning after her experience, on a whim and partially because she was somewhat convinced that she might be dying of radioactive exposure. Because she doesn’t spend much, she has plenty saved- it took her three days to leave her apartment again and now she just walks the city trying not to look as rudderless as she feels.

Carli ducks under the bus stop and pretends she’s waiting. She checks her watch. She peers down the street. Out of her periphery she focuses on the woman to her right, dark-haired and bright-eyed and exceptionally still. She must be playing it too obviously, because the object of her attention starts watching her like a hawk.

It doesn’t occur to Hope to be subtle about it. This woman is acting bizarrely late for someone catching a midtown express bus that only goes to Jersey. Hope’s lived in New York for seven years and never seen someone that keen to get to shithole, nowhere. So she’s staring, but she looks away after a minute and tries not to shake her head. It’s not as if she has a leg to stand on anyway, considering the fact that she’s unemployed and not even waiting for a bus. Who is she to judge?

The bus is coming, Carli can hear it. She can also tell that the other woman isn’t waiting for a bus, because she’s too far back in the shelter and she’s not moving an inch or even sparing a glance. She’s panicking now, knows she needs to touch to be sure but afraid that if she does all she’ll find is a hostile woman on her rainy day off. This is where company- Abby or Christie or anyone- would help. She takes the risk though, remembering her job and Christie’s request, reaching for the stranger’s wrist. In the half a second before the other woman jerks away, Carli knows all that she needs to know.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Hope spits it out, but she’s shaken and feels strange and can’t place it.

“Hope, I know about your power.”

Carli always feels like a freak storyteller, even in training when people are expecting it. It’s worse now, when Hope looks at her like she is a freak and she really feels it, because she knows all the way back to Hope being late to her own high school graduation, and she knows that nobody in her family was there to see it, and she knows that Hope is hiding the ability to burn right through skin and wood and cloth and tile, hiding it just under her sleeves and crackling under the surface.

Hope gapes at the stranger, but instead of shrinking back she stands a little taller, narrows her eyes. Her palms start to tingle but she fights it back- this has to be some kind of marketing ploy or magic trick of something, certainly not something to zap someone for. Yet.

“How did you know my name?”

The bus stops, creaking and expelling air, and the doors open to let out a slew of passengers onto the sidewalk like water from a burst pipe.

“I know more than just your name, but I can’t tell you here.”

.,.

“Bullshit.”

Carli sighs. Hope pops her hip a little and crosses her arms.

“Bullshit, no way. You expect me to believe that there’s a little rogue group of crime-fighting, superpowered women just outside of the city, and if I go with you that’s what I’ll find and not a sketchy white van with a dude inside that’ll skin me and sell me as hamburger meat?”

“Not small,” Carli deliberates, taking it one step at a time, “It’s not a small group, but yes.”

“Then why are they all women?”

It’s a question Carli’s heard a thousand times and asked a thousand more, but not one that anyone has had an answer to. She shrugs, and Hope scoffs.

“Listen, you can’t make this stuff up. You don’t need me to tell you the powers are real, you have your own. You saw what I can do.”

When she says it, Hope stiffens, realizing that it’s not true. All she knows is Carli’s name, and that Carli had touched her and known things she couldn’t have known beforehand. She doesn’t know what that’s called or what that’s supposed to mean. For all she knows it might have been a magic trick or some sort- she might have been followed for a while beforehand and there’s no way for her to tell.

“Prove it.”

“I just did!”

Carli’s close to leaving because she can’t see how any of this could possibly be worth it just to fill another bed. She has another hour before she’s supposed to be back, and she’s antsy, but he sighs and explains as best she can in a last-ditch attempt.

“It’s called psychometry. Basically, what it means is that I can touch people and know their life stories. Like, for instance, you have a tattoo on your chest.”

“Anyone could know that,” Hope levels, “you could have found that out from Facebook.”

“Your power is the power to manipulate energy.”

Hope narrows her eyes.

That’s not something anyone would know, and it proves that the coincidence of her experience and Carli’s appearance is more than just that. She’s suspicious, but Carli’s at least an inch or two shorter and Hope is sure she could handle herself if she needed to. The truth is that her curiosity is starting to sway her more than her suspicion.

Carli can see it.

“We’re harmless, unless you’re a criminal,” she tries to joke. It falls flat because for a moment it seems like Hope doesn’t get it and thinks it’s an accusation, so she backpedals- “or, you know, I mean, that time of month.”

.,.

To Megan’s knowledge, nobody is expecting the patrols to actually work.

None of them appeared on a patrol. All of them were found through hearsay, or articles in the paper documenting strange incidents the police struggled to explain, or- in Tobin’s case- weren’t found at all. Tobin found them. Megan’s not expecting that to happen again, either.

She’s on the roof when she sees them. She sees Carli first and recognizes her from blocks away, mostly by her voice. From the homemade basketball court behind and below Megan's perch, Lori calls up to her, spinning the ball in her hand.

"You coming down, Batman?"

"Carli's got someone with her."

Lori's up on the fire escape in a heartbeat, and on the roof before Carli's even on their block. They're close enough now that Lori can see everything, from Carli’s perturbed expression to the detail on her partner’s leather jacket. The woman she's walking with is tall and dark-haired with dangerous eyes, and she's looking around like she's expecting something to jump out at her.

"Someone should go tell Christie," Megan says, casually. Lori senses the danger, though, and immediately touches her finger to her nose, half a second before Megan manages to.

"Ugh," Megan scoffs, kicking at Lori's leg, "I hate you."

"You love me."

...

The place Carli takes her to just looks like an apartment building. It’s weird, though, mostly because she’s expecting something about it to be weird. They’re in the far reaches of TriBeCa, in a shipping area that’s all industrial but seems mostly abandoned otherwise. She can see where the ramps are that allow shipping and loading today just like they used to decades ago, and they’re just off the highway and just off the river so the smells of gas and rubber and the ocean mix strangely in the air. Strangely- but not unpleasantly. All the buildings are brick, turn-of-the-century.

It feels like a good place to get murdered.

“This is sketchy,” Hope says, pushing some stray hairs behind her ear.

“It’s plenty busy during the day,” Carli says. To illustrate her point a shipping truck on the other side of the street pops up on the curb, clanging.

“And usually the people here are too busy working to notice that we’re a residential building in the wrong zone.”

Hope interrupts her scrutiny of the street to look at Carli, who describes their isolation so casually it gives her chills.

“You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”

That seems like a stupid question to Carli. Technically speaking, the whole group are friendly with each other- some more than others- and she never feels alone. It’s more the fact that the question occurs to Hope to ask that bothers her. She doesn’t answer it. She doesn’t feel compelled to.

Hope likes her for it.

...

Christie meets them at the door.

She didn’t expect things to go so well so quickly, and when Hope walks in with a wary, self-confident vibe she immediately remembers how difficult it is to integrate someone. Especially someone who’s not in their early twenties. This woman is far from impressionable, and Christie can tell she’s a firecracker from the start.

That’s why she picks Kelley.

She sends Carli to get her and leads Hope into her ‘office’, which is what used to be a kind of receptionist area when their building wasn’t a home but a hotel. The questions start early.

“How’d you get this place? What was it, a Mariott?”

“It was functioning before chain hotels,” Christie answers, nonplussed, “it was inherited.”

That’s not entirely true but there’s no better way to put it and Hope, as Carli introduced her, doesn’t question that. She has other things to question.

“So what, you’re a rogue group of lady superheroes?”

“Something like that.”

She gestures Hope into a seat and takes her own, clearing her throat.

“We don’t call ourselves superheros. We don’t really call ourselves anything. I’ve purposely steered us away from identifying as anything other than a sort of family-style crime fighting support group. There are sixteen of us. Seventeen if you stay.”

“And why would I stay?”

Christie pauses. This answer is different for everyone, and she knows that, but ‘it depends’ is never a satisfactory answer. Kelley appears in the doorway, and just like that it occurs to her that she can save that question for another time. Hope’s antsy, a little, but glad someone’s answering questions.

The girl that’s waved into the room doesn’t strike her as particularly heroic. Not that Carli did, either, exactly- Christie certainly does- but this girl has to be in her early twenties if she’s twenty at all, short and freckly. The look on her face suggests that she might think she’s in trouble; as soon as she sees Hope she breaks into a smile of relief.

Kelley hops up onto the reception counter between them until Christie gives her a pointed look and she gets down to stand at attention the way she expects she’s supposed to.

“Kelley, this is Hope. Hope, this is Kelley. She’s going to be your guide, sort of- help you learn the ropes and talk you through our system so that you can decide for yourself if you’re cut out for the job.”

Hope works her jaw a little and Christie knows she’s figured her out. She may not have applied for a job, but if Christie can convince her there’s any doubt in anyone’s mind that she’s good enough to take one she can tell Hope is the type to fight to prove herself.

...

“Okay, so here’s how it works. Basically, we live in an old hotel.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, but she’s thinking that if this girl is the type to just spew the obvious they’re not going to get along very well. Kelley’s a little nervous. She’s seen others do this job before, but she never has, and it’s not like they get trained for it. It’s just a responsibility that you’re supposed to wing, as far as she knows. Pearcie was her guide, and Pearcie invented the whole system, so Kelley feels a little like she’s filling shoes that she can’t hope to fit into.

“There are sixteen of us, and each of us has a power. None of us know how we got them, so don’t bother asking. Unless, I mean- do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Know where yours came from.”

Hope shakes her head.

“We train to learn more about our powers but we also do a lot of physical training. We’re all trained in self defense, some of us specialized more than others. We take shifts. There’s a midnight to six am, a six to noon, a noon to six, and a six to midnight. Mostly we watch the news and listen in on police chatter to see what we can do to help without getting in the way.”

“I can’t imagine anyone could get in the way of the NYPD,” Hope says, “it’s not as if they do much.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” Kelley agrees. She leads Hope into what was the hotel dining area and is now their kitchen and dining room; they knocked down the wall between the service kitchen and the main room to keep it open and it’s a strange combination of homey and commercial. Jill, Amy and Becky are on shift, sitting around the table with the radio between them and what looks like a seriously intense game of Scrabble ongoing.

Becky’s focused, tapping her pieces with one finger while she runs through her options. Too many vowels in her hand and not enough consonants on the board; one of her opponents has to be holding out. Jill’s messing with the radio, so it’s Amy that sees them first, leaning back in her chair a little. She smiles and immediately Hope is imagining herself at that table. It’s been a long time since she socialized with more than one or two people at a time. It’s been an even longer time since she’s genuinely liked anyone in her life. She’s a bit at sea when Kelley tugs her by the wrist as if she’s a child.

“Guys, this is Hope, my guest. Hope, these are my guys.”

Hope doesn’t know what to do without any names give to her so she just nods a little. The woman who was handling the radio dials- the one with one of those trendy haircuts Hope has always liked but never thought would do well on her- sticks out a hand and offers a smile. That seems to be a thing, here- everyone’s smiley.

“Jill. Nice to meet you.”

It is nice to meet her. The last newcomer was Megan and she hasn’t been new for at least five months. Jill sees Becky reach for her Scrabble tiles- presumably to see if she’s the culprit of the no-consonant situation- and moves them an inch away from the offending hand without lifting a finger. Hope raises an eyebrow.

“Telekinesis?”

“You got it.”

Becky rolls her eyes and reaches out to shake Hope’s hand, too. Her smile’s a little wry- Hope can tell she’s a different kind of smart than everyone else there.

“Becky. I can possess people’s bodies, but I’m polite enough not to demonstrate.”

Jill moves Becky’s chair back a few feet and Amy and Kelley crack up over it. Even Becky’s not impervious to their infectious laughter, and Hope cracks a hesitant smile when Amy introduces herself through huffs of laughter as a shapeshifter.

“Do any of you guys work?”

Kelley frowns, a little offended, but Amy comes to the rescue as usual.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have some kind of income?”

Nobody answers, and Hope takes that for what it is- a no.

“Where does the money come from for food? Are you guys sponsored?”

“We don’t ask,” is Becky’s reply, and as hard as she tries to hide that it bothers her, Hope sees it. The smiling and politeness makes sense now; they’re all hiding something or they wouldn’t be there. The glimpse into something darker, more complicated, does the opposite of scare Hope off. The intrigue is dangerous because she knows she’ll stay just to find out how it all ties together.

...

Nobody has ever asked the kind of questions that Hope does.

At least, as far as Kelley remembers, nobody has dared to ask these kinds of questions. What’s strange is that it doesn’t seem like Hope has anything but respect for Christie, and it’s not like she’s asking questions just to ask them. In an attempt to show Hope the lighter side of the situation- without introducing her to Tobin and Alex, who are fun but not exactly close enough to Hope’s age to be a good first choice- Kelley draws her into the living room, where Lori and Megan are having a spirited discussion about what seems to be the winner in a fight between Santa and Satan.

Again.

“Hey, guys. This is Hope.”

Neither of them are surprised and it throws both Hope and Kelley off a little bit. Up close, Megan thinks Hope has to be dangerous. It’s something about her confidence that shows it, that she’s got something that could potentially threaten their entire way of life.

She kind of likes it.

Lori’s a little more reserved.

If she wanted to she could get the whole story then and there, but she knows it’s rude to sift through peoples’ thoughts without warning and for all she knows Hope’s power might be the power to tell when someone’s reading her mind.

“Megan here has the power to become invisible at really inopportune times,” Kelley jokes, deadpan. Hope figures that’s why Megan’s hair is dyed to be so shockingly blonde- so that whens he’s not invisible, she’s very visible.

“Lori can read minds.”

Hope whistles.

“How’d you figure that one out?”

“Read my teacher’s mind in fourth grade and found out she was my mom’s lover. That was also the day I got to learn what sex is. Since that’s what she was thinking about. Sex with my mom.”

It’s almost funny, the way she says it, which is kind of the idea, but only Hope laughs and she feels awkward about it after. Lori’s not looking at her like she fucked up. She just looks sort of impassively content and it’s borderline creepy (she’s focusing intently on not reading Hope’s mind, which lends a vacant expression).

“So does everyone here have a tragic backstory, or what?”

“I don’t!”

It’s the peroxide blonde who says it, and she says it perkily, and her shorter, less-blonde friend laughs at her but Carli doesn’t and Hope’s not sure she’s supposed to.

“I don’t remember my backstory. So I pretend it’s not tragic.”

“That’s not how it works,” Lori says, like this is the first time and not the hundredth time she’s said it.

“Who died and made you queen of amnesiacs? Anyway, to answer your question truthfully, fuck yes we do all have tragic backstories, and if you don’t have one you better think one up quick.”

“I came prepared,” Hope says drily, and when Megan laughs she’s made her second friend.

About thirty seconds later she makes her first enemy.

It’s not Hope’s fault, really. At least it doesn’t start off being Hope’s fault. It’s Alex who panics on sight and tenses up, and it’s Alex who asks “Who are you?” with an attitude, but she doesn’t mean it.

She panics when she feels a power she doesn’t recognize, and nobody’s warned her when she walks into the living room, so she isn’t prepared for the onslaught. This power isn’t like anything she’s really felt before and she fights with it and doesn’t realize how she says it, so when Hope narrows her eyes and gives her a scathing up-and-down look, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Someone who doesn’t feel particularly obliged to answer your rude question.”

Alex feels her palms tingle with something unfamiliar, like the feeling of touching dry ice. Her fingertips start to glow but she doesn’t notice it until the stranger’s do, too. It’s electricity. She’s controlling electricity. Hope’s crackles, blue as her eyes, and she gets to her feet when she sees Alex’s hands, flexing.

“Do we have an issue?”

Alex chokes, but she’s trying to deflect it, it’s a real question- she’s not sure if Hope wants to attack her and a significant part of her is trying to control the power that’s been suddenly thrust upon her. Some are easier to control than others; this one is out of her league.

Hope’s shoulders come back and Megan gets up off the couch like she’s going to say something, but Hope speaks before she has the chance.

“Do you want one?”

.,.

"Abby!"

HAO materializes next to her out the couch so fast that Abby jumps, shattering the glass in her fist as she clenches them in second-nature defense. It stings, but she'll find Lauren later.

"There's this new girl picking one with Alex."

"And?"

Alex gets feisty - she really likes to win - but she can handle herself.

"They're going to burn the whole place down."

"And Pearcie needs me to play babysitter?"

"Something like that."

.,.

For some reason Amy’s description made Abby assume this was a kid picking fights with Alex, but this woman has to be around her age, just shorter than her, with dark hair and the kind of attitude that’s obvious from across a room. The others are kind of pressed up against the walls or in doorways, watching, but nobody really wants to get involved. Abby doesn’t blame them.

Neither of them have noticed her yet so she takes a second to try and figure out what’s going on. HAO had said ‘energy manipulation, but that could mean just about anything and Abby’s never seen anything even remotely like this before. The new woman’s back is to her, so she focuses on Alex, who is standing with her arms stiff at her sides. There’s a blue glow that seems to concentrate in her fingertips and travel up her arms until it disappears under her sleeves; from here Abby can hear a faint hum and knows she has to act fast.

“Is there a problem here?”

Alex’s eyes snap to Abby’s and immediately the glow is gone from her hands and arms. She looks a little too frustrated to be guilty, crossing her arms and refusing to answer. The culprit turns and glares at Abby, who lifts her chin and raises an eyebrow.

She fucking hates being the replacement Christie.

Nobody answers her, so she tries again, ignoring the wave of murmurs through the rest of the group- who are being predictably useless; she thinks sometimes they just like to watch her fail at being a good example- and fixing as many of them as possible with a look that she hopes comes across as stern.

“Somebody wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I didn’t ask to be here.”

It’s not one of the team that answers her. It’s the woman with the glow in her hands that says it, giving Abby a look that screams a challenge she itches to take. She doesn’t take the bait. Alex blends into the crowd between Barnie and Lauren, looking properly guilty now, and Abby crosses her arms.

“Then leave.”

“Uh, actually, we- we have to wait for Cap to get back for her to do that.”

Kelley peeks over Barnie’s shoulder on her tiptoes, looking at least six times more guilty than Alex could even if she wanted to (and she doesn’t; she’s only guilty for making a problem for Abby), and wishing Christie had put anyone in charge of this other than her. Abby immediately understands the subtext and heaves a deep breath. They can all see her trying not to roll her eyes into the back of her head.

“Seriously? She’s yours?”

“My name is Hope, and I don’t belong to anyone.”

It’s spit at her, almost to the point that she can feel it. Alex clenches her fists and fights the urge to say or do something stupid in Abby’s defense, and Kelley squirms between Barnie and Alex to make her way into the middle of the room, hands held in front of her in a clearly helpless gesture. Abby’s annoyance spills over and she fixes Hope with a withering look.

“Will you take a fucking breath, Jean Grey?”

Hope outright snarls, clenching her fists, and Kelley sees Abby tense up just in time to stop the inevitable train wreck. Within seconds there are three of her, two between Hope and Abby, one facing each of them.

“She means that I’m supposed to be in charge of helping you acclimate,” she- all three of her- says in tandem before she snaps back to just the one. From a far corner of the room, Carli scoffs, but when Sydney nudges her she keeps her mouth shut. Abby steps into Hope’s space, close enough that the hum from Hope’s fingertips becomes an insistent buzz, and grabs Hope by the bicep.

She exerts just enough pressure to let Hope know there’s more behind it. Hope knows immediately that this has to be Abby’s power- brute strength- but she’s still reeling from learning Kelley’s power of duplication firsthand so she doesn’t try to fight it.

“We all had a choice when we came here- adapt or leave. Since you’re not clear to leave yet, you adapt. Veteran’s tip? Try to do it without pissing people off.”

.,.

Kelley takes Hope to the third floor- the empty training floor- and sits her down somewhere quiet. She’s starting to panic a little, feeling like Hope is way beyond the realm of ‘manageable’, especially for her- and it’s compounded by the fact that something about Hope is really very attractive. That’s distracting.

Kelley’s not sure what it is, either, which makes it worse. Hope doesn’t say anything, just sits there looking at her with raised eyebrows, and Kelley gets a good look at her. After a moment she decides it’s the combination of high cheekbones and square jaw, and composes herself, crossing her legs.

“You, uh. Can’t do that.”

Hope blinks, and it’s the most sarcastic thing Kelley’s ever not-heard.

“With Alex, I mean. Or, really anyone. But Especially Alex.”

“What makes her so special?”

It’s sarcastic again, but there’s a real answer, and Alex is special. She’s a secret weapon of epic proportions, but Kelley’s not sure she wants to explain that part yet, so she addresses the other part first.

“Well, you know how I’m your, you know, mentor? Or guide, or whatever? When Alex was new, Abby was hers. And Abby’s really protective of Alex, because Alex has been through a lot.”

Hope looks like she might want to laugh, but she just turns to look out the window instead. It’s an old window, kind of streaked no matter how much they clean it, when the sun comes through it just right. Hope thinks it might be just ill-kept before she sees how painstakingly the sill has been maintained and painted, and it occurs to her that the whole place is kind of like that- rotting on the outside but clean on the inside. It seems backwards, considering what she’s used to.

“She’s not the only one who’s been through a lot.”

Kelley pauses a little, wondering if she’s supposed to ask for elaboration and deciding against it.

“No, you’re right. But the other thing is that Alex’s power makes her kind of hard to understand. She wasn’t trying to start something.”

Tobin hears them from the hallway and hesitates at the doorway, caught between wanting to hear the rest of the conversation and knowing she shouldn’t eavesdrop. Alex hadn’t told her much of what happened, but given the bits and pieces she overheard from the kitchen when she came inside and where she is now, she fills in the blanks.

“What’s her power?”

“Power mimicry,” Tobin says, stepping through the threshold. Immediately Kelley’s guest spins to face her, and Tobin smiles out of instinct, offering her hand.

“I’m Tobin. I’m Alex’s roommate.”

Kelley breathes a sigh of relief, not realizing how nervous she’d been to be alone with Hope, and pats the bench next to her where Tobin takes a seat.

“I’m Hope. But you probably heard all about me, didn’t you?”

Tobin shrugs.

“Alex’s power lets her acquire whatever power the people around her happen to have. She gets really jumpy when she’s surprised by one, so she probably just panicked. I’m sure she didn’t mean to start anything, she’s really nice.”

It’s nonchalant the way she says it, but once she gets started talking- or thinking- about Alex, she tends to get carried away. And she knows that’s more than just because Alex is wonderful, it’s something else she’s not sure she’s ready to think about yet. The issue at hand commands her attention better and she stops thinking about Alex, placing all her attention on Hope.

“I thought she had the same power as me,” Hope says, “but I guess that explains it. What, is your superpower the power to top any power ever? Does the pattern just keep going?”

Tobin laughs because she can see that Hope is kidding, and when she does and Hope’s face relaxes a little into what could almost be considered a smile, Kelley grins, too.

“Tobin’s power is actually way cooler than that. She...basically neutralizes everyone else’s powers. Go ahead and try to do your thing.”

Hope’s not even really sure how to ‘try to do her thing’, but no matter what she does, her palms don’t heat or tingle. She looks over at Tobin, who does a comical shrug and laughs again. Tobin’s pretty but not the same way that Kelley is. She’s got something a little exotic about her, with her surfer’s tan complexion and loose ponytail. It’s like she stepped right out of a beach, and despite Hope’s tension and confusion she feels a little bit weirdly at ease.

“I just came up here to do a couple of reps,” she says, after a moment of pause. She stretches a little and stands and the panic comes back to Kelley again, muted a little by how much Hope seems to have calmed down. “If I’m interrupting something I can totally beat it, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kelley says quickly, “it’s getting kind of late, anyway.”

She takes Hope downstairs, where the kitchen is empty except for Sydney, who has her earbuds in and either doesn’t notice them or doesn’t want to show that she does. Kelley digs up some leftovers from the fridge for Hope, and neither of them speaks. It feels weird to watch Hope eat so she busies herself with watching Sydney, who really hasn’t noticed them. She’s on dish duty and she’s cleaning away and listening to music and totally jumps when she notices Kelley out of the corner of her eye.

She’s wary of Hope. Most of them are. She’s also a little curious, though, so she just smiles at Kelley and sticks around, hoping maybe a conversation will start.

None does, because Hope doesn’t want to talk.

“So, what is it? Are you staying, or what?”

Kelley leans over the counter, hoping despite the ridiculousness of the day that Hope will stay. It makes her feel important, having someone to guide, and she has a lot she thinks she could learn from it even if Hope insists on being difficult.

Hope is caught.

She doesn’t have a job, she quit it. She doesn’t have a family to speak of because they avoid associating with her. She doesn’t have friends, because nobody’s ever stuck around. It would be easy to disappear into this new uncovered little world- easy, sure, but does she want it?

There are parts of it that intrigue her. Abby, specifically, though she wishes that weren’t the case. She’d like to find out where all the money is coming from, and she’d like to figure out all the coincidences, and she really doesn’t mind Kelley all that much, either.

There’s nothing to go back to, and there’s enough to stay for, so she shrugs.

“Why not?”

.,.

Alex goes to sleep in her own bed, but that doesn’t last long.

She has a nightmare, not that it’s surprising. This is the third night in a row, and this time Hope is involved.

In the dream she’s facing off with Hope again, but she’s terrified. She can’t control herself; she can feel the electricity surging through her hands and arms but when she lashes out at Hope it’s Abby that she hurts. And when she starts she can’t stop, and she watches, horrified at her own hands and her own power, as Abby bursts into a ball of electric flame.

She wakes, choking on a scream that she just manages to muffle with her hand, legs tangled in her comforter and covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. When the dream really registers, she rolls to push her face into her pillow and cries, deep, shaking, silent sobs. The bed dips a little and she jumps before she feels Tobin’s arm slide around her shoulders, and she rolls over so that she can cry into Tobin’s shirt instead of into the pillow.

It’s the closest they’ve ever been, physically. It’s not the first time Alex has woken up crying, and Tobin always does her best to help, turning on a light or just talking to Alex through the darkness until sleep comes again and the exhaustion takes away any hopes of a dream, good or bad. This is different, and it makes the whole thing more real.

“Sorry,” Alex murmurs, and Tobin tightens the arm around Alex’s shoulders. She hates herself a little for wanting this closeness, for wanting to be the one to hold Alex through the nightmares and the tears, but the least she can do is comfort. She’ll have plenty of time to feel guilty about it later.

“Hope shook you up real bad, huh?”

Alex nods, and Tobin loops her free arm around the taller girl’s waist, reveling in the dampness of Alex’s t-shirt and the coolness of the skin beneath it where her fingers brush over Alex’s lower back by accident.

“You’re not gonna hurt anyone, okay?”

“Not while you’re around,” Alex agrees. Having the warmth of Tobin’s body pressed against her front makes the rest of her cold, so she shimmies the covers up to her chin and ducks her face against Tobin’s neck.

Tobin doesn’t speak again until Alex’s breathing evens out against her skin, and when she /does/ speak she closes her eyes.

“Not while I’m around.”

.,.

Observing training is the only part of the process that Hope likes.

She feels more comfortable once she knows who's surrounding her, and she spends her time compiling an internal facts sheet. First and most importantly is Christie, whose power- the ability to disintegrate something at a touch- may not rival Alex's, but whose authority and compassion are unquestionable. Abby's her dumb-but-not-mute puppet, and her super strength is annoyingly fitting. Shannon is more second-in-command material, tall and quiet but with real presence, and the blue of her eyes says "cold manipulation" even before she freezes Abby's feet in place.

There's Amy- one of the two, anyway, the blonde one- who's got X-Ray vision and is surprisingly fast and agile, and Heather, with superspeed, and Lauren, who heals. Nicole- "Barnie", they call her- who summons things, mostly weapons and small animals; Sydney, who can climb walls or hang upside down just from her fingertips; the list goes on and by the end of it there's only one person Hope is threatened by.

Alex watches Hope watch her, feeling the pressure of her gaze, and Abby steps into her space to warn her: "Ignore her. She's trying to shake you up."

"Well, it's working."

Abby thinks for a moment, then leans in a little more.

"Is she close enough for you to access her?"

"Um...yeah. Yeah."

"Try it."

"Are you sure?"

"She needs to stay scared of you."

Abby doesn't finish the thought, which is that Alex is probably only safe while Hope is intimidated by her, but she gets the feeling that Alex hears it anyway.

From her vantage point on the third floor, through an open window, Tobin watches as Alex’s hands start to spark and light. She’s never seen anything like it before and she assumes that it’s Hope’s power from the way Hope- who seems to be watching- reacts, tensing so much that Tobin can see it from yards above them. It’s like Hope’s preparing to go into a fight, almost.

It doesn’t happen that way. Alex lets the power take over, feels it in every inch of her body. Abby watches, ready to intervene if she has to, but just that security allows Alex to play with it, lifting a hand to study the way the energy’s dancing from finger to finger. She’s unaware of the message she’s supposed to be sending, focusing more on control and the ability to calm herself down in Hope’s presence, but Abby turns to look at Hope and the message is perfectly clear.

To Tobin it looks like Abby is using Alex as a pawn in her little civil war against Hope, and she bristles at the thought. She can’t possibly know Abby’s motivation, or that Abby’s not thinking of anyone /but/ Alex, and it’s not Tobin’s job to protect Alex, especially not on an emotional level, but she promises herself she’ll bring it up later just in case.

Alex would do the same for her, she’s sure of it.

…

Becky looks up from the rigged radio and turns to Christie, who hasn’t heard any of the cop chatter- she’s too absorbed in making tea and is half-awake, preferring the six to twelve shift but taking the midnight to six because she knows nobody else will volunteer on a weekend.

“We have a possible hostage situation,” she says, and from the couch Amy jerks herself awake, blinking in the graying early-morning light that’s just now peeking through the common room blinds.

Christie turns, waiting for more information, and Becky gives what she has: “The Target between 14th and Ibson. All they’re saying right now is that there’s a gun involved and the store’s locked.”

“Are they heading over?”

They try not to infringe too much on police business- it makes for sticky getaways when they don’t want to be recognized or caught but don’t have much in the way of costumes- so this is the first question asked every time. Amy’s at Becky’s shoulder in seconds, leaning over the radio.

“Yeah, but they’re going to try to get the guy to cooperate, probably, instead of busting down the door- if he has a gun they’re going to be afraid he’ll shoot someone if they manhandle their way in.”

“I don’t think this calls for more than two of us,” Christie answers after a moment. Amy was the one to stay back the last time something happened on their shift so she knows she’ll be going, but there’s an idea that pops up in the back of her mind that she can’t keep from trying out.

“Can I take Hope?”

Christie shrugs.

“If you feel like waking her up, sure. Now’s as good a time as any to break her in.”

...

Hope is a morning person.

That does not mean she is a 5:15 am person.

She doesn’t complain when Amy wakes her up (she always forgets that there are two of them and in her head she refers to this one as Brown Amy and the other as Blonde Amy) because she knows that’s not going to get her anywhere, but she feels stupid getting dressed in regular civilian clothes to go do something that’s supposedly heroic.

She completely forgets that Amy is a shapeshifter until they’re out on the sidewalk. All the warning she gets is “I’m going ahead for a second, just head for Ibson and I’ll loop back,” before the other woman is gone and there’s a brown dog- a Boxer or something- bolting down the street, leaving her in the cold.

For a second she thinks about turning around and going back inside, but Amy’s never done anything to her and she knows it would be monumentally shitty of her to ditch someone like that- not that she’d usually care- so she starts to walk. Three minutes in the dog is back.

Amy doesn’t shift back right away because it’s easier to watch Hope from the dog’s body without being too obvious. She knows that Hope knows it’s her, because the look she gets lasts too long to be the kind of look you might spare a passing stray, so for a minute or two she keeps pace. Hope still smells like the outside- like tall office buildings and long days spent doing something mundane- and Amy wonders if she’s ever going to really gel with everyone else. She walks with more purpose than she needs to, with her head down and her hands deep in her pockets.

They’re both just people by the time they reach the intersection, and Amy stops Hope with a hand on her forearm before they can cross the street.

“We’re not supposed to know anything’s going on, remember. We’ve beaten the cops here- right now we’re just two people going for a walk before breakfast. I’m gonna go around behind the building and look for a way in that’s not obvious or loud, think you can loiter without looking like you’re loitering?”

“Of course.”

But she doesn’t.

She’s not sure what exactly Amy’s looking for, but if there’s a guy with a gun in that store- and other people in it- she’s not going to wait for a subtle way in. For all they know there’s no time for that, and she figures if they’re going to get in before the cops get there she needs to act now.

She pulls her sweatshirt hood up and takes the locked automatic doors out, crackling, with a flick of her wrist.

Amy’s perched on one of the heating vents looking for a way in when she hears the crash and immediately she thinks that a shot’s been fired. It takes her two seconds to fly over the top of the store and realize that Hope is inside. It takes her another second flat to figure out that the crash had been Hope’s doing.

...

It’s not one douchebag with a gun.

It’s four.

The first of them meets her at the door with his gun raised and her fingers spark when she sees the two employees behind him, bound and gagged behind a register.

“I’ll fucking shoot! Don’t come any closer, I swear to God-”

She’s about to raise a hand when something huge barrels past her and right into him, knocking him onto his back, sending the gun clattering across tile, and pinning him there. It’s a tiger, fully ten feet long, with a disapproving glare that is uncannily Amy’s.

“I couldn’t wait.”

There are cop sirens outside before either of them can make another move, and Amy goes directly from tiger to dog without a stop in between, grabbing Hope by the sleeve of her sweatshirt and dragging her towards the back of the store. Hope follows her out into the alley, and just when the pressure on her arm is released Amy’s standing in front of her again, looking frantic.

“I don’t have time right now to tell you how stupid that was, but it was stupid. You’re about to do what I tell you to do or get arrested- I don’t care which one you choose.”

Hope doesn’t answer. Amy takes that as her cue to continue.

“You’re chasing your dog who got out the front door when you went to get the mail. You know nothing about the Target. You know nothing about the blown-in windows. And you’re in a different sweatshirt.”

She holds out her hand, waiting for Hope to switch with her, but it takes a second for that part to sink in, and it’s not until she snaps once that Hope finally shrugs out of her hoodie and switches jackets with Amy. Neither of them says another word. Amy goes back to being the dog and bounds out of the alley, barking.

...

Amy stays a dog all the way back to the house, like she’s trying to maintain their cover. Part of it is that and part of it is that she doesn’t want to feel like she needs to talk to Hope, because she’s bad at discipline and wouldn’t know what to say. Becky’s the one that opens the door, and Hope doesn’t even say a word before she shoulders past her.

It’s six.

Everybody is awake, give or take one or two of them, but Abby is the first one to speak.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Hope stiffens, and Christie touches Abby’s elbow to rein her in. The chatter had turned violent around the time the situation had, so they have a pretty good idea of what happened before Amy starts the incident report.

“Go get breakfast,” Christie says when Hope approaches her as meekly as Hope can approach anyone, “I’ll see you at the reception desk at seven.”

…

Abby’s secretly praying that Christie will send Hope off, but even as she does she knows that won’t be the case. Hope knows too much to be let go, now; like a life-altering parasite they have to learn to cohabit, regardless of how difficult she is. Shannon joins her at the reception desk, leaning against the counter and shuffling through incident reports from the last week- paperwork is her job, though Becky and A-Rod occasionally help out- and Abby leans over, pressing into Shannon’s shoulder, half to read the report and half just to be close.

“That looks like it was a shitshow,” she says under her breath, and Shannon shakes her head in agreement.

“It wasn’t good. And it’s not like Amy exaggerates much, either.”

“Except about how excited she is.”

They laugh, but it’s strained. Hope and Kelley come in from outside, settling near the end of the counter, and Hope looks so completely unbothered by all of it that Abby wants to accuse her of not taking this seriously enough. Shannon sees Abby staring and nudges her, hoping to diffuse anything at least until Christie shows up, and then, as if summoned by the rising tensions, their captain appears from the elevators.

“Please sit,” she says, and they do. It’s kind of a makeshift conference table, with Abby and Shannon and Christie on one side and Kelley and Hope on the other. The thing about the way it’s set up is that Kelley feels guilty for Hope’s screwup, which she’s still not sure she even entirely understands, given that she’s half-awake. But this is her job, and it’s something Pearcie trusted her to do, so she’s not going to screw it up if she can help it.

The question is, really, whether or not she can help it.

“I’m not here to preach to you,” Christie says, “but there are a few things you need to understand.”

Hope shifts a little in her seat and Shannon notices the little things that betray her; the way her upper body is twisted to face the door a little, and her knee is bouncing like she’s ready to run at any second. Abby might think Hope doesn’t give a shit, but Shannon can see that’s just what Hope wants them to think, and that makes her feel a little more at ease. As long as some part of Hope cares about their opinion of her, they still have leverage.

“What you did today was stupid in terms of common sense, but that’s not what the issue is. We all make bad decisions under pressure, sometimes- it happens. Adrenaline is a funny thing.”

“I wasn’t acting under the influence of adrenaline,” Hope bluffs.

“Then you were acting under the influence of genuine stupidity and you should take the out she’s giving you.”

Abby’s reply is biting and uncalled for, and Shannon nudges her again, this time under the table. Kelley swallows hard, sparing a meaningful look at Hope, who doesn’t seem as if she regrets what she said. It’s a little bit frightening how defensive Abby is around Hope, even without Alex in the room to excuse her; as if something about Hope’s basic makeup turns her wild. Kelley’s never seen Abby even the slightest bit out of control, and now she knows why.

Christie lets the tension hang for a moment before she continues, mostly ignoring Abby, who she had come just to have someone that heard the entire conversation. It’s an insurance thing, just like Shannon’s presence.

“Regardless of what made you do it, it’s not something you can ever do again. A lot of the time it’s going to seem easier to jump into things headfirst and it’s not easy to be patient, especially- especially- where the police are involved, but you have to leave time for safety.”

“Selflessness doesn’t require safety,” Hope says, as if she’s quoting a comic book, and Kelley kicks her ankle under the counter to no avail. Abby glares, held back by Shannon’s arm pressed into hers.

“That may very well be true, but you weren’t the only person there. Your recklessness didn’t just put you in danger- that’s your prerogative- but it put Amy in danger, and that’s what I’m asking you never to do again. Put yourself in harm’s way all you want. Hopefully your instincts will keep you from doing that to a point where we’ll lose you. But never endanger one of your teammates again.”

Hope clears her throat, finally letting it get to her- remembering how Amy got them out of it, and how Amy hadn’t razzed her for it- and addresses Christie directly, dropping her crossed arms.

“I won’t. You’re right. I wasn’t thinking of her, I was only thinking of the hostages.”

“And yourself,” Abby prompts, as if she’s trying to start another fight. Christie glances sharply at her, but Hope can handle it. She makes steady, even eye contact with Abby, not submitting, not backing down.

“And myself.”

Abby had expected an argument but it’s clear to her that she has a lot more to learn about how Hope operates. Somehow the agreement makes her bristle even more, but she keeps quiet, solely because Christie’s eyes are still on her.

“I’ll do better next time,” Hope offers, and even Kelley is surprised by how sincere she seems.

…

“I don’t understand why you guys even do this.”

The Jeopardy theme sounds, and Kelley, sprawled out on Alex’s bed and half lying on Alex’s legs, wads up the chocolate wrapper in her hand and lobs it at Tobin’s head. It catches in Tobin’s hair and she grabs at it, unfolding it to read the little fortune on the inside.

“Friendship is the gold thread that ties hearts together,” Tobin announces, in her best breathy voice, and the three of them crack up.

“Good thing, too,” Kelley replies rapidfire, “or we’d disown you for disapproving of our choices in expenditures of free time.”

Kelley is purposely expanding her vocabulary to make her point, but it just makes Tobin laugh again. Alex is stuck on the disapproval, as usual: “What’s your problem with Jeopardy, anyway?”

Tobin shrugs, smoothing out the Dove wrapper in her palm so that it lies flat and the saying is easier to read.

“I don’t have a problem with the show. It’s just that you guys always end up arguing about it, and Kelley always wins, and then she leaves and you’re no fun the rest of the night.”

Alex frowns.

“Kelley doesn’t always win.”

“Yeah, I do. And, Tobin- is Alex usually fun the rest of the night?”

“I-”

Kelley woofs, leaping from Alex’s bed to Tobin’s and crawling up the length of Tobin’s body to pretend-seduce her. Tobin pushes Kelley away with a palm to the forehead, laughing all over again.

“Gross, stop.”

Predictably, it’s a close game. Tobin keeps score for them dutifully like a good friend, and Alex is 200 points behind until Final Jeopardy.

“The category is Musicals.”

The two girls groan at different octaves. Tobin looks on, trying to hide her grin; Final Jeopardy is always more fun when neither of them has an advantage. For her, at least. She gets to be around for a lot of these kind of competitions, and not just between Alex and Kelley, because she’s a built-in cheating deterrent.

“Cameron Mackintosh produced both of these- the two longest-running musicals in Broadway history.”

“This is so unfair,” Alex mutters, scribbling down her answer, “Tobin, check this out and tell me what I should bet.”

“That’s cheating.”

Kelley doesn’t really care, though, because Alex always ends up betting it all no matter what Tobin tells her to do. Plus, she’s pretty sure she has the right answer, and she’s also pretty sure that Alex won’t.

“I don’t know anything about musicals,” Tobin says. “Just bet...enough to beat Kelley.”

Alex bets everything. Kelley bets two thousand, figuring she won’t need to bet anything to win.

“The answers are: Cats, and Les Miserables.”

Alex cackles, clapping her hands together, and Kelley wails from her spot on the floor.

“That’s not true! That’s not true! Mama Mia’s the longest-running, too!”

“Clearly not,” Tobin observes helpfully, but she can’t deny she’s excited to see Kelley lose for once, if only because Alex won’t be sulky for the rest of the night.

“Then it’s false advertising and whoever’s running Mama Mia should be sued, because I swear to God they advertise it as being the longest-running.”

“I knew you’d make that mistake,” Alex squeals, lying on her stomach so she can poke Kelley in the shoulder, “I knew it! You think you’re so smart. They advertise it as one of the longest-running, not the longest-running. I jog by the signs like every day.”

“Whatever. Don’t you have a shift starting soon, or something?”

Alex shakes her head, and the room gets a little bit dangerously quiet. Tobin gets up and takes their scratchpads from them, tearing out the used sheets and throwing them in the trash. She keeps the Dove wrapper, tucking it between the mirror and the mirror’s frame where it rests above the dresser.

“Christie gave me the night off. She wanted to put Hope and Carli and Abby together to try and make them gel.”

Every single one of them can think of a different reason why that’s a bad idea.

“Hopefully the city is quiet tonight,” Kelley murmurs, but she’s not thinking of the city, she’s thinking of Hope and the thin line she’s treading.

…

Alex has a nightmare and Tobin sits up with her while she tries to get back to sleep.

It doesn’t work, but there in the lamplight while Tobin sits sentinel, their dynamic starts to change. She can feel it, like something shifting inside her. She tells herself she’s watching Alex this closely to know when she’s fallen asleep, but that’s not quite it, and in her heart of hearts she can’t lie to herself.

Alex is frowning a little, like she’s concentrating, the corners of her mouth turned down and her brow furrowed. She remembers the last nightmare, or at least she remembers the aftermath: Alex’s tears drying against her neck and collar, the band of skin where Alex’s t-shirt rode up over her lower back, the casual way Alex had shifted until they were pressed together all the way down to their knees.

Tobin had wanted to cocoon Alex in warmth and safety and reassurance and never let her go. She feels the same urge now, even though they’re not touching. Alex sleeps on her side, with one hand tucked up under her chin, but the other hand is outspread like it’s waiting for a partner.

Tobin rolls over onto her stomach, reaches across the gap between their beds, and touches her fingertips together.

Alex smiles in her sleep.

...

There’s a mugging that night and it’s the first time Hope is present when someone dies.

Up until now it’s mostly been fun and games. Even the danger is a game to her, in a way, because she hasn’t been harmed yet and the worst she’s seen on a victim is a broken bone or a few scratches. This mugging calls for her and Abby, and that leaves Carli back at HQ- it’s three am and by the time they get there the girl is already dead and limp in her killer’s arms.

Abby is tempted to snap his neck.

This is something she’s struggled with. It’s not an urge to kill that drives her, but in the heat of the moment she’s had to learn not to let adrenaline and a thirst for justice control her. It’s not her job to decide this scum’s fate. There’s a justice system for a reason. It’s the girl that gets to her, the girl who can’t be older than Alex or Kelley or Tobin, dead from a gunshot wound straight through the head. Hope is silent.

Abby breaks the kid’s arm without meaning to but doesn’t feel bad about it. She holds him with his face pressed into the side of the dumpster and listens to him cry about it until the police get there. Hope holds the girl as if she’s waiting for an ambulance and doesn’t say a word. She reminds Abby of the Pietà.

Hope knows the girl in her arms is dead but she can’t stop thinking about how alive she must have just been. She kind of looks familiar and it takes Hope until the ambulance comes and the police sirens are wailing to get it. When they lift the dead girl onto the stretcher, the angle of the light that hits her cheek and jaw makes her look like Kelley.

Hope doesn’t want to cry in front of Abby, so she gets mad instead. She kneels where she was the whole time until Abby grabs her by the arm and pulls her to her feet.

“She’s dead,” Hope says.

“It happens,” replies Abby.

Hope stumbles away from her, the anger and the shock overwhelming her in the face of Abby’s nonchalance. It’s as if none of it has registered to Abby at all and instead all of it is going to her head.

“You don’t even care,” she accuses, and she knows she’s a loose cannon but she doesn’t even like Abby so she doesn’t try to rein it in. She keeps thinking of the girl on the stretcher and of Kelley safe in her bed at HQ and she can’t figure out why the resemblance even bothers her so much but it does.

“You don’t even care. This doesn’t mean anything to you. Any of you.”

Abby snarls, grabbing her by the shoulder and pushing her hard into the brick wall behind her. Hope yelps, grabbing at Abby’s hand as her own heat up.

“We put so much of ourselves in this,” Abby hisses. Hope’s sparking now, burning at the hand that’s holding her against the wall, but Abby doesn’t feel it for the red she’s seeing.

“We sacrificed our families, our friends- this means everything to us.”

Hope doesn’t say anything, just grips at Abby’s hand until Abby pulls it away with a muttered “fuck”. It’s red. It’s burned for sure, probably third degree, but Abby just turns away and curses under her breath as she starts back towards home. She’s pissed that Hope would think that death meant nothing to her, but she’s more pissed at Hope’s generalization of the rest of the group.

Hope doesn’t apologize. Abby doesn’t expect her to.

.....

“What happened?”

Hope is surprised that Kelley’s up when she gets back, but she doesn’t question it. Tobin and Alex are there, too, in the kitchen hardly a foot apart. That’s something that Kelley has been trying not to notice, so she focuses on Hope, who is pale and wide-eyed.

“Mugging victim died,” Abby mutters, going right to the sink to put cool water on her hand. Alex intercepts her and holds it in her own, looking it over with a critical eye.

“Go get Lauren,” she says, and Tobin does as she’s told without a word or a glance at Hope.

“No,” Abby replies, loudly enough that it stops Tobin in her tracks, “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Alex insists, and Hope watches them, trying not to think about the fact that they’re arguing over an injury she gave someone on her own side. Well, technically on her own side.

Tobin goes. Abby huffs about it, and Alex turns her hand over to look at her palm where the lines have been all but burned off. Even knowing Lauren will fix it doesn’t make her feel any better about it- she knows that it was Hope’s doing, she can tell just from the way the other woman watches them.

She spares barely two seconds of a look Hope’s way, but it’s enough.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, she practically did it to herself. She was trying to break my shoulder.”

Abby doesn’t even look up. Alex drops Abby’s hand to face Hope completely, shoulders back- it’s three in the morning and she’s already had a nightmare tonight and she’s just had enough- and Hope raises an eyebrow, egging her on.

“I don’t care what she was doing.”

“Oh? Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it? Were you there? Could you have stopped that girl from dying?”

“You couldn’t,” Alex points out, and Hope crosses her arms, taking a step closer despite Abby’s glare over Alex’s shoulder.

“Think you could do a better fucking job than me?”

Lauren clears her throat.

The tension in the room doesn’t dissolve, it just spreads out, like butter over bread. Alex glares at Hope until Tobin tugs at her t-shirt and convinces her, just by being there, that they should go back to bed. She can’t be in the room while Lauren’s healing, anyway, and Alex knows that upsets her.

She has to fight the urge to say something on the way out. Tobin’s hand brushing against hers keeps it from happening. Kelley follows them with a lingering look at Hope, who is still visibly shaken and mad, and Lauren heals Abby’s hand without any trouble at all.

“Sorry you had to get up for this,” Abby says, and Hope hates that it sounds like she means it.

“I’m not,” Lauren says easily, patting Abby’s palm. “I’ll go right back to sleep, Mombach. I promise.”

Abby spares a weak smile before Lauren’s gone, and then, without a work or a glance at Hope, she brushes past and into the hallway.

Hope catches up with Abby around the corner and grabs her by the elbow for half a second- not long enough for her fingers to start to tingle, just long enough to get her attention- gratified by Abby turning on her heel and finally making eye contact, jaw clenched.

“If you have such a problem with me, why don’t you just haul back and punch me in the face? We both know that would be easier than you pretending you don’t wish I’d never appeared in the first place.”

“I’m not getting into this with you.”

“You don’t get to choose anymore.”

“Don’t think for a second that you can threaten me,” Abby snarls, stepping into Hope’s space.

“You came here with an attitude and you haven’t stopped complaining since you did. You threw off the whole group and you insist on antagonizing one of the strongest assets we have, and if it weren’t for Christie I’d have kicked you out in a heartbeat.”

“I don’t believe that,” Hope replies, matching Abby’s stance, feet shoulder-width apart and head high, “I think you’re too much of a coward to tell me the truth.”

Before she can regret that her back is against the wall and there’s a hand around her throat and she knows with absolute certainty that she could be dead at any moment but the only thing she really notices is the press of Abby’s thumb against her jugular and the flash of something thrilling in Abby’s eyes.

Abby knows that Hope is right, that's why she's so mad. The truth is that she needs Hope. They all do.

But she won't be the one to say it.

She leans in so that they’re breathing the same air- or would be, if Hope were still breathing- and speaks with such strength that Hope feels it in her bones: “You don’t know me. Don’t pretend you do.”

Hope can’t think of anything to do but grab the front of Abby’s shirt and pull her forward so that their lips crash together. For a millisecond Abby’s hand tightens and Hope really can’t breathe, but then that hand is pushing at her shoulder and Abby’s pulling away and Hope immediately misses the contact of Abby’s lips and hates herself for it.

Abby leaves her in the hallway. Hope takes a minute to compose herself and follows, vowing not to think about it too hard.

...

Kelley’s getting ready for the six to twelve when Hope wanders back to their room. Abby (understandably) avoided her for the last few hours of their shift, after the injury and the sudden kiss. Both her and Carli dozed on and off in the living room as if nothing had happened at all, and Hope took her turn listening to idle cop chatter and trying not to hate herself any more than usual. Seeing Kelley again brings back the girl on the stretcher so Hope looks away, pulling her shirt over her head and collapsing onto her bed facefirst.

Kelley’s weight dips the mattress where she sits, not far from Hope’s side.

“Why’d you do it? Hurt Abby’s hand, I mean.”

Hope pretends to be asleep. Predictably, it doesn’t work. Kelley- who can remember Pearcie’s method, not that this was ever a problem with her- tries again.

“You can tell me the truth. I know she can be a little rough around the edges.”

She places a hand between Hope’s shoulder blades; the older woman tenses and then rolls away from it, onto her side.

“I’m exhausted, Kel.”

It’s a victory, hearing Hope use her nickname, and despite the situation Kelley can’t help but smile. For her part, Hope wants to groan in embarrassment and is glad Kelley can’t see her redden with it.

“Okay, then make it quick.”

“She pushed me against a wall and I reacted. That’s all. She had it coming.”

Kelley makes a non-commital noise in the back of her throat that suggests she doesn’t quite believe it, and for some unfathomable reason it really bothers Hope that she isn’t getting Kelley on her side.

“Any idea maybe why she did that?”

Hope sits up, fixing Kelley with a suspicious look.

“What did she say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, what did she say to Alex?”

Kelley shrugs.

“I wouldn’t know. I didn’t ask her.”

The thing that bothers her, though, is that if Abby did say something to Alex- which she very well might have, on her way to her own room- Kelley is sure that Tobin would know all about it. But that’s not Hope’s problem.

“So, what, you just assume that I started it?”

Kelley sighs.

“No. But Abby’s not the type to do something like that unless you provoke her. And I’m not saying it’s not easy to provoke her, if you know the right buttons to press, I’m just saying she doesn’t go Hulk and randomly assault people.”

Hope raises an eyebrow, waiting for the end of the statement, and Kelley gives in, albeit guiltily.

“Plus... you’re a little abrasive sometimes.”

“Your shift is starting,” Hope says, dropping back to the mattress, “looks like you’ll have to parent me later.”

…

The third nightmare in as many nights is the worst of them.

Alex dreams of the man with no blood on his hands, and his victim, and she dreams that she’s helping him kill. She can’t see his face until the clouds pass the moon, and when they do she sees that he’s not a man at all.

It’s her. She’s looking at herself. And there’s blood on her hands, and the victim lying dead at her feet is Tobin.

When she wakes up and touches a hand to her cheek it comes back wet, and for a moment she thinks it’s blood like it was in the dream and gasps so hard her throat aches. She’s been crying. She’s crying still, but she’s crying because for the first time her victim wasn’t the shadow on the ground, or Abby. She’s crying for Tobin, for the Tobin she killed in the dream, and the real one crawling into her bed and anchoring her by lying half on top of her.

The crying stops once Tobin starts wiping her tears away, because something else is more important. Where Tobin touches her, her skin tingles. The light from the street is just enough that she can see Tobin’s face, the concern creasing her brow, her lips parted.

Alex wants to kiss her, and the urge catches her so entirely by surprise that she can’t breathe. Tobin wipes at her tears until they’re gone, and then she shifts so that she’s lying at Alex’s side and throws an arm around Alex’s waist to keep her close.

They’ve passed some kind of landmark, some kind of line in the sand in regards to intimacy, and Tobin can feel it. Alex is still shaking a little, like she’s trying not to start crying again, and when she rolls into Tobin’s arms it makes her feel powerful. Soothing Alex makes her feel like she might be worth something. Alex heaves a huge sigh, letting the strength of Tobin’s arms replace the limpness of the Tobin in her dream.

In real life, Tobin pulls Alex closer and presses a bold kiss to the crown of her head.

...

Alex can’t sleep.

Well, it’s more than that- it’s that she doesn’t even want to try to sleep, because the nightmares come every night without fail and she’s afraid if she lives through it again she’s going to lose her mind completely. That and she’s tired of waking Tobin up in the middle of the night with screaming and crying and it feels too good to bury herself in Tobin’s arms and try to sleep again. She’s getting attached, and if there’s one thing she’s learned so far it’s that getting attached is always a bad idea.

She knows the second Tobin appears in the kitchen that it’s too late. Losing Tobin would completely dismantle her. It’s only around Tobin that she can relax, only in Tobin’s arms that the possibility of sleep feels anywhere close.

“Are you nocturnal now?”

Alex laughs a little, but it’s forced. She only realizes once Tobin glances down at her hands that she’s been picking the nail polish off of her thumbnails, and then she sighs, sitting on her hands. Tobin hops up onto the counter so that the outside of her knee brushes Alex’s upper arm, but she doesn’t say anything else.

“I didn’t want to wake you up anymore,” Alex admits quietly, and Tobin leans back to pluck a biscotti out of the container, snapping it in half and handing Alex the larger one.

“Well, that backfired. I can’t sleep without you.”

She says it so matter-of-fact that it catches Alex by surprise, and when she really hears it she stops chewing and lifts her eyes to Tobin’s million-watt smile, a superpower all on its own.

“Look, I don’t care if you have nightmares. I don’t mind being woken up a couple of times in the middle of the night. I didn’t ask you to leave because I like having you there.” There, of course, being ‘in bed with me’, which Alex is suddenly very glad Tobin didn’t say.

She wants to kiss Tobin’s smile and she’s not sure what to do about it, not sure where they stand or how to ask. Just tonight she had felt the feather-light touch of Tobin’s lips on the crown of her head as she cried, but now it’s like she could have made it up.

“I’m scared,” she blurts, looking away.

“You don’t have to be,” is Tobin’s gentle reply. “Not around me.”