(d/f) SG: Reflecting Upon Reflections (or Caustic Illusions) Part D

[Eric Burns]

[Beginning of Part D]



*                                ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*

*                               Friday Evening*
*                                 (Pacific)*
*                              Blue Moon Tavern*
*                                Seattle, WA*



     One ordering of another gigantic wheathook later, Elizabeth was
watching Chalandra expectantly.

     "You are going to be so hung over," Chalandra said.

     "I'll have you know I drank a fifth of Johnny Walker Blue not three
weeks ago with nary a twinge."

     "I believe you. You're going to drink gallons of water before I let you
out of my sight, blondie." She shook her head. "Blonde. Blonde was taken,
you know. I'm the blonde one."

     "Arguably, that shade is more brown than blonde."

     "Arguably, shut up."

     "Fine. So. Faith. Reveal unto me your wisdom from beyond the grave, oh
Vampire Therapist."

     "You laugh. If I hung out a shingle I'd have so much freaking business
from depressed goths I'd have to turn a couple of other therapists just to
keep up the demand."

     "Yeah, that sounds like a fun office environment."

     "Don't knock it. No one parties like the dead." She crushed the stub of
her cigar out, and knocked back horrible scotch. "Faith."

     "Faith."

     "What did you do for Faith? I mean, in general."

     Elizabeth shook her head -- she was drunk enough now that keeping it
clear wasn't the easiest thing in the world. "I balanced him. I gave him a
focus for his gullibility. I reached under the layers of his surface beliefs
and affirmed truths in him, and took away the abusive or false beliefs that
hurt him. I helped him interact with the world and grow as a person."

     "So, a real symbiotic relationship."

     "Absolutely. And if you tell me it was somehow bad I swear--"

     "It wasn't. It was beautiful. I envied the Hell out of you. Both of
you, really." She paused. "What did Faith do for you?"

     Elizabeth blinked. "What?"

     "In symbiosis, both sides get something out of the relationship. Faith
got some sense of order that eventually let him grow as a person from you.
What did you get from him? And don't say personal satisfaction or love --
that's not what I'm talking about."

     Elizabeth blinked again. "I... that... I'm...."

     "Eloquently said. C'mon, Liz. He must have given you something. Or...
was it a parasitical relationship instead of symbiotic? Was Faith just a
parasite?"

     "No," Elizabeth said, slamming her hand on the table again, anger in
her eyes. "Don't you *ever* call Faith a parasite!"

     "I agree. So what did he give you?"

     Elizabeth's head was swimming. Admittedly, the large amount of beer
didn't help with the process.

     Chalandra smiled, very slightly. "Liz... he gave you affirmation."

     Elizabeth blinked. "What?"

     "He affirmed you. Reinforced you. He gave you purpose. He *believed*
you. He believed *in* you. And he added chaos to your life, forcing you out
of the shell you always try to retreat into and the persona you try to put
on. As you gave him the focus and balance to grow as a person, he gave you
the excuse to cut loose -- to let a little crazy into your world, and
therefore to *grow as a person.* And through it all, he made it perfectly
clear that there was at least one person who saw you as the single most
important being in the universe, and that was enough."

     Elizabeth snorted. "Yeah."

     Chalandra arched both her eyebrows. "What was that, Liz? Do you doubt?"

     "Why should I doubt?"

     "Why indeed? Go on. Say it. You're drunk enough and I won't judge. And
it's bothered you since the day you learned Faith transcended instead of
dying, but you were so relieved he wasn't actually dead you couldn't ever
admit it. *Say it.*"

     "Fine! Why Akane?"

     "Why Akane what?"

     "Why did Akane's death push Faith to exert will and transcend? Why her?
Why not *me?* You're right -- I was in his head every day for years! I lived
with him. I loved him. I laughed with him and cheered him on when they
started dating. Why did it take *her* for him to reach his potential? Why
not *me!?*"

     There was brief quiet except for glasses clinking. Elizabeth realized
pretty much everyone in the bar was staring at the two of them.

     Chalandra looked around. She opened her eyes wider and lifted a hand,
fluttering her fingertips. "Whoooo... you are under my vampiric
traaaaance... none of you give a crap about the two women getting drunk in
this corner booooooooth...."

     The bar-goers turned back to each other and began talking again. The
bassist started back into his bass.

     "You've gotten better at that," Elizabeth said. She was bright red, and
not just because of alcohol.

     "Yeah. Board meetings bring out the Dominance Stare in you. So. Why not
you, huh?"

     Elizabeth looked down. "Forget it. It's dumb. Unworthy of Faith and me
and you and it's stupid. Of course it wasn't me."

     "See? Narcissistic personality disorder and imposter syndrome, fighting
each other in a steel cage."

     "Oh shut up. So I'm a bitch. Fine. I can live with that."

     Chalandra laughed. "No, you can't. You hate it. You hate not being
loved."

     "*Bur ki chatani bhosadike* -- have you always had this low an opinion
of me!? Was I the team punchline?"

     "The team punchline? Jesus, Liz. Eivandt was on our team."

     There was a pause.

     "Point," Elizabeth said.

     "Also, you *stopped* swearing in Hindi and *started* using the word
'heckfire?' Seriously?"

     "There's always the chance one of the kids would know Hindi." She
looked into her beer.

     "Let's face it. We were all the punchline. We took turns. Eviandt got
to laugh at me as much as I got to laugh at him. And we both laughed at you
and you laughed at both of us. I don't have a low opinion of you. I think
you're amazing. I really, honestly do. I think at the end of the day, your
biggest problem is *you* don't think you're amazing."

     "After your prognosis? I clearly have good reason to feel that way. But
then I did anyway. I fell off the wagon." She waved another beer over. "Went
back into surgery. Cut out bits of Random Encounters so he'd never threaten
the Mob again."

     "I'm literally a Vampire, Liz. I'm pretty sure I would have killed and
eaten him. And then gotten my triglycerides checked. Honestly, I'd had that
on the table if you hadn't done something first. I was pretty pissed too,
you know. But you? Cut out the sickness and pain. You're right. You're a
surgeon. You cut out the cancer. Despite everything, you were a healer, not
a hunter. And if you were a bit of a monster? Most of us are, now and then.
We do our best and we keep going."

     Elizabeth hehed. "A bit of a monster. And I'm the one teaching the next
generation. How many of them are going to get brutalized doing this?"

     "All of them."

     Elizabeth blinked. "What?"

     "All of them, Liz. Every student you have and every student you will
ever have. I'm sorry but it's true."



*                                ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*


*                             Wednesday Morning*
*                                 (Eastern)*
*                           A.L.U.C.H.Q.M.O.U.S.E.*
*                          Load Pan Bay Sublevel 1*
*                                Medical Bay*
*                                 Boston, MA*



     Transit smiled. She was kind of glad to have company. She'd been in the
medical bay for several days, with an infection or illness that even the
advanced science, magic, and 'other' at the ALU's disposal couldn't
identify. She kept up with her lessons in part because she needed to do
*something *with her time and in part because Transit was never quite as
happy as when she was learning something. Preferably math. Or anything that
wasn't English Lit.

     Still, as glad as she might be to have company... she was unhappy about
the circumstances. She was trying to be careful in talking to her
medbay-mate, but she wasn't the best at being tactful.

     "So... Maria tried to kill you all and now she's in a cell? That's
awful!"

     Q.E.D.

     Her medbay-mate smiled. Her smile was very pretty, as she was herself
-- blonde and pale, with a preference for black although right now she was
in an embarrassing hospital johnnie the same as Transit. Somehow, she made
it look sporty and cute. "It is," Samantha said, her voice very scratchy.
"But it's better than if she were free."

     "I can believe that. How could she *do* that?"

     Samantha shrugged. "I'm not the right person to ask. She tried to kill
my daughters. That's... not easy to forgive or understand. And Tim... you
don't even want to know how Tim feels. The sad thing is... Hellfire was
Maria's best friend, and she's all torn up. She and Rog... Mel... whoever
they are are spending a lot of time together right now."

     "Sadly, she had the opportunity to rise to her true heroic merit, but
fell short," Charlie said, on the other side of Samantha. He too was in
medbay. In his case, a specially designed one to help him recover from
advanced heliumite poisoning. "Thus did she fall from grace and get spacked
for her troubles, what ho."

     Transit nodded, taking another sip of water. The fever was cycling back
up, so she had to stay hydrated. "But you're both getting better?"

     "We all are. I'll be able to attend classes in a day or two." Samantha
smiled a bit. "I'm looking forward to it. They say Scholarman's coming back
to teach."

     Transit stared, then fell back onto her back, her head flumphing into
the pillow. "With luck, this disease will kill me before then."

     "Oh, come on. How can you not love that class? The digressions, the
tea, the weird myth stuff--"

     "It's useless and he's worse than Lit Lass! At least she's just
boring!"

     "She has no imagination or use for imagination. It's all just rules for
grammar and usage."

     "That's why I prefer her. What possible *use* is *imagination?*"

     Samantha didn't answer. The clock on the wall ticked. Transit could
tell it was about a thousandth of a second slow.

     Transit slowly flushed. "I... don't... mean *you*, Dreamweaver."

     "Good," she said, dryly. "But speaking as the monarch of an entire
Realm that uses myth and imagination as natural laws..."

     "...fine. Fine. I get it. You like his class."

     "It's not just me. Hellfire likes it too."

     "It seems to me that one either loves or hates the class," Charlie
said. "There is no in-between."

     "That seems true," Transit said. "Where do you fall, Charlie?"

     "Actually, I don't need to fall at all! I can fly!"

     "...do you like the class?"

     "Oh." He paused. "Good heavens, no. Loathe it."

     Samantha smiled a bit. She ran her fingers over the bandage on her
throat. The cats had almost completely healed the tracheotomy incision, but
it *itched*. At least, that's what Transit assumed.

     "Are there any other classes you like that much?" Transit asked
Samantha. Anything to steer the subject. "Measure Theory and Integration?
Topics in Actuarial Science?"

     "I've never heard of either of those, so I assume they're math."
Samantha
smiled a bit more, closing her eyes. "Probably learning the history of the
Realm. Of course, that teacher doesn't work here. Which may be for the best.
I'm not sure Charlie or Tim would be happy running into him in the halls."

     "Really? Why? Is he rude?"

     "By definition," Charlie muttered. "He's a cat. And not a nice one,
either!"

     "Deuteronomy is *very* nice," Samantha said. "He just has... a bit of a
sense of humor. Tim's getting used to it."

     "That seems unlikely."

     Transit furrowed her brow. "A talking cat who teaches history?"

     Samantha smiled, adjusting in bed again. "It's a dream kingdom. That
sort of thing happens."

     Transit slowly nodded. "I think I've got a hypothesis of why you like
Scholarman's class."

     "Oh? Why?"

     "He's the only person who makes less sense than the rest of your life."

     Samantha smiled a bit more. "You may be on to something, there."



*                                ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*

*                               Friday Evening*
*                                 (Pacific)*
*                              Blue Moon Tavern*
*                                Seattle, WA*



     Chalandra poured the last of her bottle into the glass. "Everything
thinks of CalForce as the wild bunch. The crazy ones. The partying
anarchists. Or, more properly, the exemplars of the Californian Way. But
look at what we did. What we *survived.* The Magic Wars. Radian's fall.
Radian's *trial.* Rad's coma. The Ottsamattawidu Crisis. And so many more I
can barely keep them all straight. I didn't even get to my *own* traumas,
and they fucking *sucked.*" She looked Elizabeth in the eyes. "Super heroes
put themselves between the worst of the world and the innocents who would be
consumed by it every day. Stick with this long enough and yeah. Suddenly an
eighteen year old heroine's stuck in a hole by the Mega Intelligence Bureau
and systematically tortured, or half our friends go anti-magic crazy, the
others form a counterinsurgency, and a lot of people die." She reached over
and touched Elizabeth's hand. "Like Roger. Who died that day, before he ever
became your student. Or Tim, who was sucked into the same Wasteland Radian
told us about but remembers every minute of it. Or Samantha, whose own uncle
tried to murder her. Or Christina, who had her entire life taken away from
her when she was turned into fire. Or Burt, who'll never speak out loud
again." Her voice dropped. "Or Maria, who was locked inside a silver statue
to which there is no key."

     "What about the Brats, Chal? How do I protect them?"

     "The who?"

     "The -- sorry. Nickname. It stuck. The first class. Mem, Fridge,
Kid-E--"

     "Ohhh. Right. Sorry. The Sorceress Subternatural, the girl who was
built to be a weapon, the kid who attacks anyone who startles him, and the
brother and sister who grew up in a nastily abusive household. However will
you keep them from losing their innocence and suffering the slings and
arrows of an unfair world?"

     Elizabeth looked down.

     "Liz? How many of your students died in this attack? Just your
students. Sensation was a countdown timer Random Encounters started before
they ever got there. I read the report."

     "How did you get the report?"

     "I'm on the Board of the Rogers Foundation, Liz. Remember? How many of
them died?"

     "...none."

     "That's right. None. Not even Maria. Despite being betrayed. Despite
having their worst secrets and weaknesses used against them, they all
survived. They're recovering. They're *alive.* The worse for wear? Sure. But
that's going to happen." She squeezed Elizabeth's hand. "You want to be
blamed for something? Okay. I blame you for that. The Mob got thrown into
the worst Hell imaginable -- even counting actual Hell -- and came out
alive. That's your fault."

     "They were heroes before they--"

     "Yeah. But they're amazing because you helped them get that way. Are
they all being helped?"

     "Yes...."

     "Did they have to organize that themselves?"

     "What -- no. We organized it, and got Andy and some of the others
involved--"

     "While the Manor's being rebuilt, do they have a place to live?"

     "Yes."

     "Is Maria Mendez rotting in the Really Really Hard to Get Out Of Place,
her psyche turning into a festering time bomb?"

     "...no...."

     "Then stop being a fucking martyr. This is a win. Tragic? Absolutely.
But a *win.* And they're all going to be stronger and do bigger and better
things." She paused. "I heard a rumor that Alice No Last Name is actually
talking to you."

     "We... may have found détente."

     "How'd that happen?"

     "She was impressed with my choice of hairclip and how well I could walk
in heels."

     Chalandra paused. "Well, you do walk well in heels."

     "I know I do."

     "Did you fight for them with all your strength?"

     "Of course."

     "Then that's something to add to my prognosis." Chalandra drained the
last of her Sagamore's Unfortunate Cull. "Irrational guilt, survivor's
guilt, delusion of responsibility, delusion of reference, imposter syndrome,
prior abandonment issues, fear of abandonment, narcissistic personality
disorder, post traumatic stress disorder, generalized anxiety disorder...
and hero."

     Elizabeth considered that for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay."

     "Now. We get your irrational resentment of Faith's transcendence
condition dealt with and figure out some way of compensating for the balance
he brought to your life, and we can really get somewhere."

     "Man, how much is this going to cost me? I mean, I don't think you take
insurance and aren't your lecture fees something like a quarter million?"

     "Oh, don't worry about it. We'll work it out in indentured servitude."


*                                ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*


*                             Tuesday Afternoon*
*                                 (Eastern)*
*                           The Harborside Teashop*
*                                 Boston, MA*



     "So... am I still a probationary member?" Dani was sipping her tea --
milk, two sugars. She'd gotten in that habit the last time she was in one of
Scholarman's classes. He turned really funny colors when you put sugar in
tea.

     "Obviously the answer is yes. For one thing, we haven't had an
Executive Board meeting since the beginning of the month."

     "Of course. Naturally. We're the ALU. We do things the old fashioned
way -- by following rules written down in a book otherwise locked up in a
filing cabinet you need a passkey, authorization and a birth certificate to
unlock."

     "Bureaucracy yields legitimacy. Trust me. There are days I miss the old
'vigilante nutjob beyond the law' routine, but I've got a lot more
opportunity to do some real good as part of a recognized team."

     Dani cocked her head. "That has to be the first time I've ever heard
you talk about vigilantism as anything but bad."

     Bruce half-smiled, sipping his own tea -- he took it straight, which
was no shock. "Well, when I thought you were a child I had a responsibility
to model behavior, didn't I?"

     "Oh, of course." Dani leaned back. "So... setting aside the
legalities... am I still a probationary member? I mean, it's been years."

     "Kid Solipsism is also still a probationary member."

     "Well, sure -- he doesn't believe in any of this in the first place, so
he doesn't care. Question still stands."

     Bruce arched an eyebrow, a slight smile on his face. "Do *you* think
you should still be a probationary member?"

     Dani paused. "Oh, that is dirty pool."

     Bruce just smiled a bit more.

     Dani sipped her tea. "Well... I'm definitely not ready to leave the
Academy. Honestly, I'm just now beginning to figure out just how much I've
learned and how much I still *have* to learn. I guess... yeah, I should
still be probationary. For now. At least until we work out Dianna's problems
and figure out Mike's deal. This isn't the right time to make a change."

     Bruce nodded. "I concur."

     "So I passed the test?"

     Bruce chuckled. "There's no test, Dani. If you'd said you were ready
for full membership, I'd have field promoted you right now. But your
reasoning is sound, and I agree with it. So we'll hold off."

     Dani stared at Bruce.

     "What?"

     Dani started to laugh. "Nothing. Nothing at all--"

     There was the sound of gunfire from outside the teashop. Dani and Bruce
both stood, turning--

     Across the street. A BayBeaconBank of Boston Mutual First branch was
clearly being robbed, the robbers running out the door and piling into a
getaway car.

     "Oh great," Dani said. "I'll give you cover so you can get out there--"

     "Actually, I think I'm going to finish my tea."

     Dani blinked, turning to look at Bruce. He was indeed sitting back down
and picking up his cup. "Uh... there's a bank robbery."

     "Yes there is." He smiled, looking at Dani. "You should do something
about that."

     Dani blinked. "I can't. Probationary members can't go into solo action.
They have to have a full member in good standing with them at all times.
Those are the rules."

     "Yes they are." He sipped his tea. "Fuck the rules. I trust you."

     Dani blinked again. "Really?"

     "Really."

     Dani slowly unhooked the belt she wore around her waist, setting it on
the table -- watching to see if Bruce made any movement to dissuade her.

     "Time's wasting, Dangerousgirl."

     Dani pulled her hair out of the scrunchie she'd been wearing, then
pulled the dress over her head and dropped them both on the floor. She
flipped her head down and back, a mane of brunette hair tossing into shape,
even as she turned and ran for the door -- people in the teashop shouting in
recognition.

     Bruce watched Dangerousgirl hit the street and -- with a detonation of
nuclear force -- hurl herself into the air after the robbers. He set his tea
down and moved to pick up her dress, which he began to fold. She was growing
up, but he still had to have words with her about--

     "You... know Dangerousgirl?"

     Bruce paused, turning to look at the person speaking.

     She was a young woman -- maybe fourteen. Deep brown skin, wide brown
eyes.

     "I do, in fact, know Dangerousgirl," Bruce said with a smile.

     "...whoa. Did she really punch Satan back to Hell<tm>?"

     "Yes, as a matter of fact she did." Bruce put the folded dress down on
the table. "Grab that hair elastic for me, would you?"

     The girl scooped up the scrunchie. "If you know her... then... you must
be..." Her eyes grew wider.

     Bruce half-smiled. Ah yes. Time to be 'Bruce Rogers,
Bored-and-Boring-Billionaire benefactor of the Adjusted--'

     "...her *butler!*"

     Bruce paused.

     "What was that?" one of the servers asked. She looked at Bruce. "Are
you really Dangerousgirl's butler?"

     Bruce accepted the scrunchie from Dangerousgirl's young fan. "Yes," he
said, solemnly. "I am Dangerousgirl's butler."

     "That is *so cool*."

     "I am forced to agree." Bruce picked up his tea, finishing it. He
nodded to the server for another cup. He really had to tell Melford about
all this. He suspected he'd get a kick out of it. depending on how much
focus he had at that point, of course.

[End of Part D. Part E follows.]
-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <https://lists.eyrie.org/pipermail/superguy/attachments/20180906/75835f74/attachment-0001.html>