Chapter Text
She tried, she really tried to get the girl to go with someone else, but Hannah was… surprisingly weak to Taylor’s pleas.
It didn’t help that the one time someone else tried to touch her, every insect covering the girl and Hannah like armour started going insane.
Nobody wanted to provoke the swarm again, so they gave up.
In the end, it was decided that she would accompany the girl and hold her hand for… most of the way through the processing they would have to go through in the PRT.
It proved incredibly difficult.
The mere sight of a needle made the girl as tense as having a gun trained to her head. Any controlling touch had her jerking away and trying to get to Hannah, insects once again buzzing threateningly.
Thus, most of the duties fell to her, because for some reason, the girl trusted her.
It was somewhat touching, and rather scary at the same time.
Even when it was time to dress her, the girl didn’t appear the least bit shy, standing there like a mute doll, listening to commands and helping when asked, but otherwise, doing nothing, only defending herself and her insects from being taken away.
So long as Hannah was asking, she did whatever she was told.
This was a problem, because procedures did not like interruption, and the girl refused to do anything if Hannah didn’t explicitly agree with the command given by another person.
Hannah simply assumed this was some kind of ‘imprinted duckling’ moment that would pass, sooner than later.
Eventually, a needle re-appeared, and the girl froze again.
This time, Hannah was here.
“Hey, hey. Calm down, sweetie. Just a prick on the finger. It’s a blood sample, we’re not putting anything in you.” She softly reassured, watching the girl breathe harder and harder. “We’re trying to find if there’s anything wrong with you, any drugs in your system from him. We have to get you to the doctors, to make sure you’re okay, see what he did to… your eyes. And ears.”
A short jerky nod.
“Y-you’ll stay, r-right? Please.” Her breathy, shaking voice asked. “D-don’t let them, take the bugs. I can’t see or hear without them. I can’t-”
“I will try my best to let you keep them, okay? I’ll stay too.” She whispered, gently taking the girl’s hand. “Don’t look. It will help. Just focus on me, okay?”
Taylor jerkily nodded, squeezing her hand weakly.
Hannah watched in quiet discomfort as the myriad bugs on and around her all slowly turned to stare at her, trying to ignore the itching sensation of spider legs walking across her mouth over the scarf.
God, she needed twenty showers after this.
At least Taylor never sent them over her eyes.
“Y-you’re pretty.” The girl noted quietly, almost like she was trying to fill the silence.
She blinked, smiling involuntarily at how weirdly adorable that was.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She warmly chuckled.
The needle went in, and the girl’s muscles tensed, shoulders hunching. A horrid rattling sound filled the room as hundreds of insects beat their wings in warning.
She rubbed the girl’s arm, watching in disbelief as the insects covering it retreated to allow direct touch like some kind of liquid.
“Shhhh, shh, it’s okay. Relax, it will only hurt more if you clench.” She whispered, and the girl nodded, a short gagging sound escaping her before she slowly went limp again right where she sat, her breaths abruptly normal again, her head hanging down without strength.
Heart pounding, she gently tapped the girl’s shoulder.
“Are you okay? Taylor? Are you awake?” She asked, worried.
An uncaring hum was her answer, numb and low.
The doctor carefully took the syringe poking out of Taylor’s forearm, and quickly finished his work, before retreating.
Hannah didn’t know what to do, so she did nothing.
She just hovered, sitting on a chair next to the bed, waiting for the girl to… do something, really.
What even was this… fugue state? She should check with the nurses afterwards.
Four minutes later, the girl slowly raised her head, almost dazed, the insects around them quickly animating again.
“More?” The girl simply asked like nothing happened, voice thick with dread.
She nodded in sympathy.
“A bit. Just relax, alright? We all want to help you here. You can trust us.”
The girl shook her head, stubborn.
Hhmm.
Another problem…
“And his remains?” Armsmaster patiently asked.
Hannah would scold him if she had the energy and the rank to do so. It was just questioning, which she understood, but could the girl not rest first?
Taylor shuffled deeper into her personal cocoon of insects, a mass of bees being used as an eye mask, while sending those covering Hannah into a mild, nervous shuffle, as if to confirm her existence.
“I… I don’t know, I think I left his bones?” Taylor croaked, clueless as to what she had done wrong. “What do you want them for?” The girl quietly asked, before trying to get the spoon to her mouth.
Key word being ‘tried’.
The moment she actually lifted the spoon and had to use her own muscles to keep it stable, her fingers began quivering uncontrollably like a vibrating motor, spilling the soup back into the bowl.
Taylor’s breath hitched, and she grabbed her own wrist with her other hand, jaw clenched, knuckles white in frustration.
The spoon slowly went into her mouth. It was long since empty.
Taylor’s brows furrowed as she tore the spoon out, and it quickly clattered to the floor as she lost her grip. Ducking her head, she curled in on herself, shaking like a leaf, fists clenched, or trying to.
A long silence descended in the cozy meeting room, the calm colours a sharp contrast to the emotions of those within it.
“...I’ll let you rest now. Thank you, Taylor.” Colin politely declared, and left a swift exit.
Taylor ignored him.
Hannah watched a single tear escape the confines of the fresh bandages over her eyes, and finally broke her observation, getting up and putting her chair beside the girl as she bent down to get the spoon, wiping it clean on a napkin as she sat down next to her.
Taylor, encouragingly, bucked her body a little to drag their chairs closer with a sharp scraping sound.
A tiny, sad smile flit across Hannah’s face, come and gone in a moment.
“Need some help?” She offered.
“I-I c-can do it.” Taylor warbled, stubbornly, and motioned for the spoon, not daring to grab it for some reason. Hannah gave it to her with a soft humm, turning her body slightly to the side to observe, a calm presence, or so she hoped.
Part of her really, really wanted to ask the girl how her hands got injured. That kind of shaking was a hand injury, not nerves or trauma. She knew enough, had seen enough, to arrive at that conclusion, even without the innumerable scans the nurses had taken of the girl.
Another part of her didn’t dare ask, not yet. She doubted the answer would be anything but gutwrenching.
She watched the faint orange light of the afternoon sun reflect off the edge of the spoon, glinting prettily, the sterile scent of the room suppressed by the earthly scent of pepper and mushroom soup.
Slowly giving the girl’s shoulder a supportive rub, she ignored the bees crawling all over her hand, the low hum of a ceiling fan the only sound in the room as Taylor tried to hold the spoon up, steady and still, pinched between her thumb, pointer, and middle finger. Empty, this time, just to try.
Immediately, it started to shake violently, and Hanna could see the girl’s shoulders tighten in frustration, leading her to try and hold the spoon with more force, which only made the shaking worse.
Hannah barely caught the spoon this time, and felt her heart ache as a muffled, tiny growl of helpless frustration left the girl.
The small swarm of insects on both of them coalesced, a cloud of fliers that gathered on her hand, grabbing onto the spoon and tugging.
She clenched her hand, refusing to relinquish it, trying not to recoil at the feeling of so many wriggling things on her naked skin.
“No need for that yet. One last try, alright?” She softly asked, trying not to squirm as a thousand spiky little legs dug into her skin, eye twitching.
The insects scattered back to their perches on the girl.
A slow, sniffling nod.
Taylor went to take the spoon again, and Hannah gently, but firmly, intercepted by taking her hand, and slowly turning it over, palm side up.
Taylor let her, trusting, but confused.
“There’s no need to pinch, not with a spoon. Your fingers can’t do it, that’s why they shake. Something is damaged.” She whispered, their foreheads practically touching since she was hunched so low, not willing to break the soft atmosphere by raising her voice to be heard.
Fingers gently rubbing over twitching, jittery flesh, she carefully put the spoon in the junction of Taylor’s thumb, and gently curled her hand inwards, just a tad.
Taylor slowly relaxed, her hand stilled.
“Use the thumb to hold it upright against your hand. Support under with your fingers.” She instructed, and took the girl’s pointer and middle finger with her own, gently curling them under the spoon, a half-limp support rather than a pinching grip.
Taylor nodded, a small, jerky thing.
She raised their hands up together, and Taylor got the hint, taking her hand out of hers, and trying to do as instructed.
“Better, see?” She hummed sweetly, her smile audible as she rubbed the girl’s shoulder with a thumb.
She felt so strangely proud of her.
Taylor nodded.
“S-still can’t…” Taylor whispered, voice hopeless, the spoon jumping up and down a lot as her thumb shook incessantly. At least it wasn’t jerking around from side to side as well, like before.
“Hm, maybe not right now, but with some time, you should be able to eat on your own, as your muscles get stronger.” She noted, and gently reached for the girl’s hand again, slowly.
Taylor moved her hand into hers without looking or protesting, something which made her strangely pleased, and she gently cupped the tiny fist, supporting it, stabilizing Taylor’s fingers by wrapping them in her own.
That lack of protest lasted until she tried to move the girl’s hand towards the bowl with her own hand guiding it.
Taylor tugged back, shaking her head.
“C-can I do it myself, ma'am?” Taylor asked, still in that odd tone, as if always asking for permission.
She paused for a second, mulling over what to say.
“...Just because I’m helping, doesn’t mean you aren’t the one doing it.” She whispered, like it was some fun little secret, scooting her chair closer, moving the hand she had on the girl’s shoulder to the opposite one around her back, a half-hug.
Taylor swallowed, but finally took another spoonful, slowly bringing it to her mouth.
When the spoon began jumping again, Hannah put her thumb over Taylor’s, a gentle pressure, stabilizing it.
She tugged her mask down, smiling gently down at the girl as she gulped it down, rubbing her back in gentle circles.
“See? You’re doing good. One step at a time.” She chuckled under her breath.
Hannah expected her to go for another spoonful.
Instead, the girl hurriedly put the spoon on the table, turned around, and with a strangled little sob, threw herself forward into Hannah’s torso in a fierce hug.
She had a small moment of surprised bafflement before she hugged back, the quiet, muffled sobs of the girl utterly gut wrenching in how sudden they were, how much it was obvious she was trying to contain herself, hiccuping apologies and warbling out half-words that even if Hannah understood, she doubted would make any sense.
It was not a quick affair by any means.
A minute passed, two.
Eventually, the door cracked open, and she tilted her head towards Assault, frozen in the door frame, with a faintly pleading look of panic on her face.
The useless traitor just gave her a confused thumbs up and shut the door.
What the hell was she supposed to do here?
A particularly loud, choked whimper had her wincing and hugging tighter, curling close to the girl, making small shushing noises.
She tried rubbing Taylor’s back even through the buzzing hive crawling over them both, trusting the bees and hornets to get out of the way before being squished, but it did little to calm the girl, or so it seemed, as she just kept crying, and crying…
God, it hurt to listen to.
This was not her forte, but the least she could do was try.
So she did.
“It’s alright, sweetie. You’re okay. It’s over. You’re with me now. Things will get better.” She whispered into her hair, grimacing when said hair moved with a high pitched whimper from her charge. She powered through her discomfort to try and be of some use, to provide some manner of comfort, but the greatest discomfort of all, the greatest, most painful shame, came from being so incapable of relieving Taylor of her pain.
She couldn’t shoot trauma and memories away. She was no good at this, not at all.
One arm around the girl’s shoulders, the other rubbing her back, slowly but surely, what little she could hear from her slowly pettered out, until nothing but silence remained.
She didn’t realize until ten minutes later that the girl had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.
Which meant that the gigantic blanket of insects over both of them was… probably not under her direct control…
Oh… ooooh Jesus Christ, no…
Hannah watched a curious bee crawl up her cheek with a faint shudder, squinting her eyes by instinct as she shuddered.
This… this was usually not in the job description.
As one of the only heroes who did not need to sleep, it was natural that she was picked to spend the night outside of Taylor’s M/S cell. Both to make sure she was monitored and wouldn’t do anything to harm herself, and because Piggot and everyone involved seemed to be very aware that she had built quite the rapport with the girl.
Which, of course they knew, since Taylor kept asking for her specifically from the moment she woke up, and to every expert and therapist they had gotten to talk to her.
Hannah felt somewhat touched by how much the girl liked her, and a bit confused, but accepted the role of overwatch.
It helped that at the end of the day, Taylor was a very sweet child. Hannah actually quite liked spending time with her. She was deceptively intelligent, albeit terribly meek and unwilling to speak before being spoken to.
So, she currently sat outside the M/S cell, playing tic-tac-toe with the girl through the insects around her, whichever few were allowed in the isolated hallway. Taylor didn’t feel like talking, for the past hour and something, so they did this instead.
The cell… well, actually, calling the M/S room a cell was inaccurate. It was a cell only in function, not form.
It was a proper child’s room. The PRT had scrambled over the day to fill it with all manner of entertainment appropriate for a child, as many safe things they could put in there, and they had even allowed her a couple dozens of bees, both inside and outside the room, for the girl’s peace of mind, and communication with Hannah, specifically. There was a speaker and a microphone for them to chat with each other.
Considering how usual procedures went, Piggot was being almost… inordinately kind. Stretching a lot of rules, for sure, waiving protocol here and there.
Maybe the woman had a heart after all.
She crossed another X on the notebook, and snorted as she realized her loss, shaking her head.
“How do you keep winning? Are you cheating?” She asked, voice playfully suspicious.
No… wait, how does one cheat on tic-tac-toe?
The bee on her notebook walked over to two circled words, one being “YES”, another being “NO”, and proudly walked on the ‘yes’.
She clicked her tongue, and turned another page, chuckling.
Piggot tapped the end of her pen against her desk, the raps quick and agitated as she regarded her with an even gaze.
She stared back impassively, waiting to hear what she had been summoned for.
Piggot eventually set the pen down with a final ‘clack’.
“I have a mixture of praise and condemnation for you, as I’m sure you are aware and expecting.” Piggot started.
She nodded.
“I’m going to shelf that for later, because the hour is late, and I need sleep, unfortunately. To cut to the chase, I have some requests for you. Many of them extend quite far outside the normal boundaries of work and personal life, so, they are requests, not orders.” Piggot continued.
She lowered her eyelids into a cautious stare, but nodded once more.
Nice to have a choice for once, whether she would follow or not, but it was a largely useless choice. She did as she was told, and she rarely let her disagreement get in the way of duty.
Still, this was… very unusual.
“Firstly, do you want to know what we found on her?” Piggot offered.
“Yes.” She blurted out, almost hurried, immediately stepping forward, interested.
Piggot slid out a file, and extended it to her.
“Read it within the hour after we’re done here, and throw it straight into the incinerators right after. Now, for more current information. The decision is that we are going to send the girl to a parahuman asylum, hopefully only for a short stay, to ensure she is somewhat stable before her reintegration into society. Might be months, might be a year. Considering what she has been through, she is incredibly stable and resilient, so we are hopeful for the former. The crux of my concern is this; I want her.” Piggot finally got to the point, and Hannah felt a sour taste enter her mouth immediately at the greed in the woman’s voice.
“I want her in the Wards, I want her in the Protectorate, and I want her a lot. Others will want her even more, once her capabilities spread in the internal ranks. She can monitor miles of space without effort. Her value in recon and information gathering is unbelievable. Any operation she is involved in can be a breeze. She could clean up the entire Bay in months. We can keep our bases relatively clean of bugs with minimal effort, and she would be an invaluable asset with little chance of backfiring.” Piggot emphasized, then leaned back, both physically, and metaphorically, as her voice softened.
“And it just so happens that this girl has developed some kind of fondness for you in particular. Do you wish to involve yourself with her as much as she does you?” Piggot asked, phrased as if presenting an opportunity.
Hannah frowned, skeptical.
“What does that mean?” She asked, peeved at the way the woman talked about Taylor like an object, a weapon. She wasn’t wrong, just… dehumanizing.
“The girl is an orphan. Coil’s work.”
Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding.
Fuck. Of course. Of course.
She had hoped so much for a quick, teary-eyed reunion with the girl’s parents, a chance of mental peace that at least the girl would be in good, familiar hands.
Nothing could be that simple, it seemed.
“For numerous reasons, she doesn’t trust many, even among the heroes. She also needs legal guardians. Additionally, she already has a strange admiration and trust of you. The girl needs a parent, I need a connection to her to hopefully draw her into the Wards at some point in the future… you can guess what the common point is.” Piggot ended, tired.
…Hannah. Hannah was the common solution here.
Breaking her soldier pose, she turned, rubbing her face with her hands, feeling faintly dizzy as she paced a little.
“You want me to… what, adopt her? Alone?” She asked, incredulous.
“Yes. She already requests your presence every moment she is awake. You don’t seem to dislike her, either. Would it really be that terrible of a sacrifice to make?” Piggot asked, curious.
She shook her head without even thinking about it.
“No, it wouldn’t. But I’m not grooming her to use her power for us. She’s not a tool, and I am not Coil. If she doesn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t even attempt to convince her otherwise.” She replied, pausing her pacing, a bit more heat and snap in her voice than she would usually allow.
Piggot frowned.
“So your condition is that she chooses whether she wishes to enter the Wards or not? You wouldn’t force her.”
She shook her head, vehemently.
“No, I wouldn’t. She’s been through enough. Unless she was as far away as humanly possible from any and all danger, I wouldn’t let her even if she asked.” She insisted.
Piggot hummed.
“Tough, but reasonable. We would never put her in danger, or in the open, so that’s not a problem. Her value is best served as a very well guarded secret, after all. With that guarantee, would you consider it?” Piggot pushed.
Hannah paced faster, heart pounding.
Fuck…
“I… I suppose I could let her make that choice if you promised, in writing, to keep her as safe as possible. Hidden.” She reasoned, and questioned why she was already talking like she was the girl’s guardian. She wasn’t.
“If you would allow her to at least make the choice herself as to whether she could assist us or not… I’d do what I can to help you both. Adoption, papers, CPS, financial support, whatever you want. She is too valuable to get all rebellious during her teen years, fumble, and die in some alley to some two-bit thug, like most independents who get antsy and run into people like Lung.” Piggot huffed.
Hannah winced.
That was also true. Nobody with super powers fully ever managed to stay out of trouble, no matter how well guarded. It was almost like a law of the universe. Taylor would face conflict. Hannah could regulate the conflict into far safer parameters if she was around though. Others… she admired many of her colleagues, but she doubted they would go to the same lengths she would.
She stopped pacing, chewing her lip.
“Even if I don’t take her, some other department will, right?” She asked, the mere thought igniting a strange, chest-tightening dread in her gut.
“Houston is already asking a few too many questions about the girl to seem like idle curiosity.” Piggot dryly replied.
Shit.
“Give… give me a bit to think about it. How much time do I have?”
Piggot sighed.
“For this particular offer? Officially, months. Unofficially, you better decide quickly. Maybe a couple days at most. When she’s out of the psych ward, people will start looking at the adoption applications, and unless you’re near the top of the list, they might not even get to you. Why would they, if the likes of Alexandria are ahead of you?” Piggot pressed.
She relaxed, a little.
A couple days was not a long time, but it was better than right now.
She licked her lips, nodded.
“Okay. I’ll get back to you soon.” She replied, even though she had a sinking feeling that the more she visited the girl, the less able she would be to say “no”.
Damn it.
She never wanted to be a guardian to someone. She didn’t know how to raise a child. Especially one so young. Taylor was… what, eleven, close to twelve? Not a toddler, but still too young for her comfort zone.
Another problem was that… people needed a reason to keep going. A motivation to fight to get better, to try and improve their mind and their life. Especially after going through the kinds of things Taylor had gone through.
Hannah did not know how to help Taylor find that reason to keep going. She had never helped someone else with that mental search.
“When is she getting transferred? To where?” She asked, suddenly remembering that minor detail.
“Asylum East, Philadelphia. After a few more preliminary meetings with our therapists, she will likely end up there in a couple days. I’ll pull some strings to let you escort her, if you wish.” Piggot replied.
She blinked.
Philadelphia.
That was… a five or six hour drive? If she was on the gas, maybe a bit less, about four hours, especially if she took the bike to do it.
… She could do that in a day. She had eight free hours a day most people didn’t, since she didn’t need to sleep. Drive, talk to Taylor, drive back… ten or twelve hours a day should be enough. She had those, her work hours were only eight or ten.
It would eat up all her free time, but she hardly ever used said free time for anything more than work or motorcycle rides to clear her head.
Her life was rather… empty, actually. She tried not to think too hard about that, usually.
“Philadelphia… that’s a lot of gas money.” She mumbled to herself, half-amused at the absurdity of her current situation, rubbing her brows with a thumb to relieve a building headache.
“I’ll arrange a raise for you.” Piggot offered neutrally.
She lowered her hand, staring.
… Piggot really wanted this girl, holy shit.
She nodded, and turned to leave. On a sudden whim, she took her phone out and began to look around the internet for parenting books.
Just… just in case. She wasn’t sure she could even do what was being asked of her, honestly…
The girl’s parents had died in a car accident involving a giant truck that very suspiciously lost control and rammed into them while they were exiting a supermarket, two and a half years ago, mere days after her 9th birthday.
Of course, no plates, no leads to follow. It ran and vanished.
On the same day, a man went to Taylor’s school with parental authorization, claiming to be a colleague of Mr. Hebert’s. Not an entirely unusual thing, apparently, judging from the testimony of a close friend of Hebert, named Curt, who was also in the same worksite. The girl seemed confused and didn’t know the man, which was a tad unusual, but the man had a written paper, and claimed it was an emergency, so suspicions were not raised until the man and the girl both disappeared without a trace.
It wasn’t technically confirmed, but that was definitely Coil’s work. Fucking bastard. She hoped the hornets ate him alive, nice and slow.
How he knew Taylor had triggered mere days ago, nobody knew. It would remain a mystery, for better or worse.
Hannah flipped through speculation and detailed reports, skipping forward to the medical scans.
She very quickly put the papers down and began to pace around her quarters like an angered lion in a cage, quivering with a mixture of hatred, horror, and regret.
Taylor’s hand was indeed injured. The nurses reported severe ligament and muscle damage, as well as inflamed and irritated tendons. A months old injury, but one that would likely never completely heal.
Considering how topical and precise the damage was, without bone damage or anything of the sort, the only explanation left to the doctors was simple.
Coil bent the girl’s fingers backwards. Six of them in total, the three most important ones in each hand. Likely a punishment for something or another. Maybe just to get his rocks off.
Unbidden, a mental image rose of Taylor, strapped down in a cold dark room while a dark figure bent her fingers back until they crunched, ignoring her cries and screams…
Hannah gagged a little, raising a shaking fist to her mouth.
Her power flashed like a strobelight from knives to rifles, her heart pounding like a drum.
She felt so fucking useless. In the face of what this little child had gone through, what could she do? She couldn’t erase anything, she could bring no one involved into justice, because Taylor had already delivered it. It was too late to change anything, to undo anything, she knew that, yet, she still felt so unbelievably guilty.
For not being fast enough, for not… somehow knowing about it and cutting it short two years ago, when this started.
… She could change the future though, couldn’t she?
She stopped cold, eyeing the laptop on her bed.
Inside her emails was an adoption form, none too subtly sent to her by Piggot’s secretary.
She couldn’t fix the past or undo what had happened, but she could… make the girl’s future better, brighter. Couldn’t she? She could not erase the memories, but she could cover them with brighter, happier ones.
She wasn’t ready to do something like this. She didn’t know enough about how to support Taylor, how to deal with her needs, how to help someone so damaged.
But if Piggot was to be believed, she didn’t have much time to prepare and think.
For ten, twenty minutes, she stood in place, breathing fast and hard, thinking.
The memory of Taylor bawling her eyes out on her chest clenched around her heart like the most bittersweet thorns.
Self-doubt kept her guessing, wondering if she was the right person to try and make the most of the girl’s future, to try and erase the horrors of her past with new, brighter memories.
An entire hour passed before she collapsed into bed, and called Piggot.
It answered on the first ring, morning light peeking through the round window on the side of her bed.
“Yes or no?” Piggot asked, instantly.
“Get it in writing, that you will keep her safe, and that I have veto rights on having her participate in any operations that I deem unsafe or risky to her mental well-being, if she even wants to become a Ward. If you do that and send it to my email, I’m signing today, and I will keep in mind all the assistance and favour you said you’d provide in the future.” She replied succinctly.
Piggot was silent for a while, likely weighing how much bargaining power she had.
“Deal. Now, go see your little hive queen, she’s already being a headache to the guards, demanding your presence before she eats, and I am not a babysitter.” Piggot dryly replied, and closed the phone.
Hannah put the phone on her chest, breathing long and hard as she stared at the ceiling.
This was not how she had envisioned her life going. Everything she had mentally mapped out and expected was going to be irreversibly derailed.
This responsibility felt far heavier than anything being a hero had entailed.
Taylor was waiting for her, so she cut her line of thinking short, and got up to start the new day.