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Even after the legalization of superhero work, public opinion on them was divided at best. Children with obvious powers were bullied, adults shunned. It was not a world that was kind to anyone. Elizabeth knew that better than most, not because her power was obvious, but because of what it brought to light.
Her power was also their best hope for change, Boseman had told her.
Diane Boseman seemed like a busy woman, proficient in both law and politics. It had been her idea to have a government supported superhero team. She was also shrewd about reading people, perhaps a little more shrewd than Elizabeth was comfortable with. In the end, however, it meant that the superhero team Boseman was sponsoring was the best for what she wanted. Heroics, and marketability.
The evening they were meant to meet, Elizabeth rode the subway. It was not her favorite mode of transportation, particularly with a valise, but it was the safest way to get to Boseman's rendezvous point. Yes, even though Elizabeth had to stare down a cutpurse who had been sizing her up. Taking a taxi would have been worse. The team would be meeting for the first time tonight, and there was trouble in the streets.
As was to be expected, Elizabeth was the first of her team to arrive. Boseman did not seem surprised either, but gestured at a parked car Elizabeth could lean against. Elizabeth waited until ten minutes past the meeting time to speak up. "Did you tell them to take the subway?"
If only it were less dark, so she could pick out the details of Boseman's expression. Finally, Boseman deflated, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was phrased more as a request. At this point, I believe it is safe to say they disregarded it. I am not surprised - the rest of the team comes from wealthy families."
Elizabeth sighed. "I told you the streets weren't safe today. I don't suppose you have somewhere we could actually sit? It may be a while."
An hour and a half later, the next member arrived. He was the epitome of dressed-down high society. His light brown hair was slightly more tousled than was the fashion, and contrasting colors set apart his tweed suit. He jogged up, a sheepish smile on his lips." My apologies for the tardiness Ms Boseman. I would offer to shake your hand, but…" The man turned up the one palm not holding his suitcase, and even in the dark Elizabeth knew it was dirty with gunpowder and blood. "There was a shootout at the theater on 22nd, and some of the bullets went astray."
After a moment Boseman nodded. "It was not unexpected. Davis, meet Colvin. We are still waiting on the others."
"You can call me Elizabeth, actually. I, er, took the subway." Her smile might have looked chagrined, but Elizabeth felt nothing of the sort. A shootout was plenty dangerous, especially when her power was not physical.
The man grinned widely at her, "I suppose you can call me Edmund, Elizabeth." He leaned against the car Elizabeth was perched on and turned his attention back to Boseman. "More 'E' names coming, boss?"
"Absolutely not."
A cheery and confident woman in trousers was next, about fifteen minutes later. She greeted Boseman by her first name, and sighing, the latter gave up on last names. "Charlotte, this is Elizabeth and Edmund. Elizabeth and Edmund, Charlotte."
That smile turned thoughtful, and Charlotte stepped forward to shake their hands. There were bullet holes in her clothes, but no blood. At the same time, she did not seem phased in the slightest by the blood on Edmund's hands.
"Sorry for getting here so late, I got held up at the-"
"Shootout at the theater on 22nd." Both Bozeman and Elizabeth finished her sentence, but only Bozeman continued. "We are still waiting on one last member, likely delayed by the same event."
Charlotte quietly floated up and took a seat next to Elizabeth on the hood of the car, clutching a suitcase that also had bullet holes in it.
It was another twenty-five minutes before the last of their team arrived. His features were sharp, and his expression carefully neutral. It was Boseman who spoke, rather than him.
"I presume you waited to hand the scene off to the police, Vittorio?" She barely waited for his nod before continuing on, "Well, let's get you all to your home for the next three weeks - our training headquarters."
It was going to be difficult to train four people with four different powers using the same facility, but Boseman had secured the funding for an excellent setup - an estate just outside of the city. The grounds were large enough to keep their training secret, and the building was large enough to have special-purpose rooms.
In the morning, three bleary-eyed people met an energetic Edmund in the kitchen for breakfast. It didn't look like he had cooked a day in his life, but burnt and oddly-shaped pancakes were better than any of them cooking something so early in the morning.
"There's coffee at the table already - I figured after that late night, at least one of you would want it."
Charlotte stifled a yawn, "How are you so awake right now? It's six in the morning." She was already pouring herself coffee into a large mug.
Edmund placed the last pancake on the stack, gently pressed the entire stack between two plates, and appeared at Charlotte's elbow. "My power makes me fast - it is difficult to wake slowly with it. How many pancakes would you like?"
"I'll take three please."
As he gave out pancakes, Elizabeth could tell Edmund was giving them the best specimens he had produced, leaving himself with a stack of seven very sad-looking pancakes for his own breakfast. It nearly fell over when he went to the icebox for orange juice, only Elizabeth's prescient use of her fork saving the pancakes from the floor.
The pancakes were too salty, but no one complained. Only once the coffee started to hit did conversation start back up. Vittorio was the one to break the silence. "I believe I saw both Charlotte and Edmund at the theater last night, but I haven't had the pleasure of working with you yet, Elizabeth."
Before Elizabeth could reply, Edmund was patting her on the back. "The lady managed to dodge the whole situation! What do you think, super smarts?"
Everyone just stared at him. After a moment, Vittorio turned back to Elizabeth. "Interesting. I presume you followed Boseman's request to use the subway, then?"
It was a lot of attention, but Elizabeth knew she would be getting far more before this was over. "Ah, yeah. The streets weren't the safest last night, and my power is best at preventative measures."
Vittorio nodded slowly. "Some sort of foresight?" As Elizabeth gaped at him, he gestured to Edmund's diminishing pile of pancakes. "That was the rescue of either someone who knew they would fall, or of someone who has spent a great deal of time around teenage boys. With the shootout situation, I believe it is the former."
Elizabeth paused. "I wouldn't call it foresight so much as I would preternatural intuition. Foresight implies more information than my power gives me."
After a beat to give Vittorio a chance to reply, Charlotte gestured at Elizabeth with her mug. "Useful, still. I assume I'm the only bulletproof person at this table, so any solid intel is good Intel."
"So you did take some bullets!" Edmund exclaimed. "And you fly? No fair that you got a combination deal." Charlotte just shrugged, so Edmund turned his scrutiny on Vittorio. "What about you? It just looked like you were talking to people."
"I was." Vittorio shifted, and only the fact that he did so at all betrayed his discomfort. "My power is also not a physical one, but useful nonetheless."
"So? You know what the rest of us have. Let us in on the secret, old pal." Edmund watched Vittorio intensely, pausing long enough to finish his last pancake. "Is it something like as long as you're talking, the people who hear you stay calm? Because that's kind of what it looked like."
There was a considering pause, then Vittorio said, "Would you please wash up for us, Edmund? We can pick this back up as we leave for training."
In a blink, Edmund and all of their empty dishes were at the sink, water running. Vittorio stood up, ducked his head to the two women still at the table, and left. It was only once the dishes were all clean and put away that Edmund gasped and yelled after him, "No fair, showing your power off on me!"
"All's fair in love and war," the call came back.
The first day of training was tough. They had all been used to working alone, so exercises that would have been easy as a cohesive team became a matter of Charlotte and Edmund barreling through obstacles, and Elizabeth and Vittorio picking up the pieces. It got better each day, however. It wasn't like they weren't team players, they just hadn't gotten used to being a team.
By the fifth day, they were working together well. Not seamlessly, but well enough. Despite her doubts, Elizabeth was the one to click into place first. Her role was primarily to give information, and as soon as the others realized her information helped, they all listened. Whether it was "Bring another set of clothes, you'll be miserable if you have only the one," or "Two steps left please," everyone heard Elizabeth and did their best to follow her lead.
Vittorio fell in sync next - using his power to make the 'civilians' in their training follow Elizabeth's instructions as well, and instructing some of the 'large threats' Elizabeth identified to stand down until Charlotte or Edmund could do something about them.
Even if she was a little late, Charlotte slipped in the most easily, because her role was the most straightforward of them. She listened to Elizabeth and Vittorio, and put herself where the danger was greatest. Whether it was using her power to hold a steel beam in place, or in front of several training 'guns', she was their frontline.
Edmund, for all that he was easy for all of them to get along with, had the most difficulty slotting into his roll. His control of his power was phenomenal - he could accelerate to seven hundred miles an hour gently enough to avoid crushing an egg, and could knock most projectiles they'd face in New York out of the air with only minor wounds. No, his difficulty arose out of either forgetfulness or an inability to listen. Elizabeth didn't blame him, though. He saw the world faster than anyone else - he was probably used to having the most information and the best reaction speed.
He just had to get used to this new normal, and by the end of the week, he was beginning to.
Day six was individualized training and costume fitting, and day seven was their rest day. Or, it was hypothetically their rest day - all of them were far too busy worrying about the radio press release about their progress that night. They had not gotten to choose their monikers, and would be finding out with the rest of the state.
Edmund had gotten his hands on a cookbook, and spent the day busy making every snack he thought he could manage. In general they turned out okay - not good, but not bad enough to decline a second bite. He was starting to get the hang of the kitchen, as his fast metabolism was. While he toiled away, Vittorio taught Elizabeth chess in the sitting room, and Charlotte sat with them, offering helpful advice to Elizabeth as she darned the bullet holes in her clothing.
Five minutes before seven, Edmund brought in the bulk of the snacks, and they all prepared themselves to listen. These would be the first words the world heard about them, and they all wanted to know how they might be seen.
Half an hour later, all four were in states of despair. Vittorio was concealing his, as he did most of his emotions, but they could all see just how deeply his brow was furrowed. Charlotte alternated between pacing and floating back and forth, a thunderous expression on her face. Edmund looked like he'd seen someone kick a puppy.
"Why am I the only one without a Greek name? There's plenty of Greek runners they could have used! Nimblejack?!?" At some point he drooped so far that his complaints were being made into a cushion, and the stream of words turned into an anguished murmur.
"I understand their intentions, but the final decisions were terrible," Vittorio said in the flattest tone any of them had ever heard. He had been announced first - Magnus, wielding the power Hegemon, and had not stopped polishing chess pieces since.
"Okay, but consider that someone actually thought that calling anyone by the name of a virgin goddess was a good idea," Charlotte snapped back.
"Or that naming you Astraea and your power Warmaiden made any sense," Edmund echoed, "Choose one, Warmaiden, or the goddess of justice and innocence! Did the committee deciding these read a single classic, or were they just using the Encyclopedia Britannica?"
Edmund turned to Elizabeth. "Or poor Elizabeth, who everyone will now think predicts the weather, is some terrible manifestation of fate, or weaves." She had to agree - Clotho and Forecast were neither names she would have picked for herself or her power.
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm still trying to figure out why, of all the things, they called your power Blur. You move so fast you don't even look like a blur." Edmund fell back into the sofa cushions to cry his anguish over getting the bottom-of-the-barrel names.
Charlotte paused, then set a hand on Vittorio's shoulder. "And comparing you to Alexander the Great twice over, right off the bat… it's not just stupid, it's cruel. All of our enemies will be gunning specifically for you."
"If this weren't a government house, I would have snuck alcohol in," Edmund said forlornly in the corner.
After a moment, Charlotte nodded. "This kind of thing is what drove our forebears to drink, I'd happily have taken part."
Elizabeth didn't know what to say - she hadn't been wealthy enough to get away with going to the kinds of places that served alcohol, so her only interaction with it had been in medicines. Mostly, they made her power more difficult to control, but she wasn't sure that was specifically the alcohol to blame.
Several moments later, Vittorio sighed and set down the last chess piece. "While emotional drinking can be dangerous, I do miss having a glass of wine with dinner."
Finally, Elizabeth broke the solemn air of the room. "Am I the only one who's never had alcohol outside cough syrup?"
And, just as she expected, it broke the sour mood as well.
A couple days later, Edmund made a quick excuse, and returned 30 minutes later with a bottle of Bordeaux he had grabbed from home. Though both Charlotte and Vittorio showed excitement, they all declared it would be for the night before their rest day. After some debate, they asked Elizabeth to hide it.
"You'll know if the feds are likely to snoop there, and choose a better spot!" Edmund declared excitedly.
They all seemed a little disappointed when Elizabeth stashed it at the back of the kitchen's corner cabinet. "That's where it's the least likely to be found, though. Did you think I would pull up a floorboard or something?"
Edmund's sad nod almost made her giggle.
They were working together quite smoothly by the time the night for wine arrived. Edmund had truly gotten used to the fact that Elizabeth's power saw things before he did, and it was like the last piece of a puzzle fitting together. Their last couple days of training had been exhilarating, finally feeling the benefit of good teamwork. There was still work to be done, but their progress seemed as good a reason as any for a celebration.
"Now, there's hardly enough for any of us to get drunk, and Elizabeth gets first chancd at the last glass," Edmund said as he poured them each a glass of wine after training. "It should be just about the right age - the only good thing about it taking so long to roll Prohibition back."
Elizabeth found herself double checking that there was a full pitcher of water in the room, and stacking her plate high with cheeses and fruits. She was not often the hungry sort, but something told her she would need the food.
An hour later, Edmund and Charlotte were realizing their mistake, having finished their glasses long before, while Elizabeth was only halfway through hers. Vittorio had been savoring his, but even he had drunk more than she had.
Edmund was draped upside down on the sofa, looking sadly up at her. "At this rate, we'll never see you tipsy, Elizabeth. It's a damn shame." Charlotte nodded from her position beside him, upright on the sofa.
Pawn in the air, mid-move, Elizabeth paused. "I mean… I think I'm tipsy? I can't hear my power very well, and I'm losing this game awfully fast." She hadn't realized that she had been using her power inadvertently to avoid making bad moves, but Vittorio was finding the change amusing.
In a move none of them saw, Edmund flipped himself right side up. "But are you having more fun than usual? Does talking feel easier?" After giving Elizabeth a moment to think, he waved a hand. "No matter. Why don't I top off your glass, and since I don't think you'd get to the point of drinking more than that, the rest of us can split what's left."
Elizabeth just shrugged. She wasn't particularly enjoying the flavor, but that wasn't the point of this experiment, was it? "Sure? I think you're underestimating how tipsy I am."
Charlotte shook her head, "No one gets tipsy off half a glass of wine, Elizabeth, not with food."
Another half an hour later, Elizabeth was certain she was tipsy, and she was not sure she liked the feeling. Her power might as well have been locked in a safe for how muffled it was. She and Vittorio had given up on chess not long after Davis refilled her glass. As a new activity, Edmund had suggested 'Truth or Dare', revealing just how much of a socialite he had been prior to training. While the others discussed more appropriate party games, Elizabeth walked over to the bookshelves to see if there were any board games. It wasn't long before she came back to the group with a Ouija Board. Both Edmund's and Charlotte's eyes lit up, and Vittorio only managed a weak,"I thought that was a couples' game," in disagreement.
In the face of one curious and two enthusiastic team members, Vittorio quickly gave in, and followed Charlotte's directions to sit on his heels at one end of the coffee table. Elizabeth took the side to his right while Edmund set up the board across from her and Charlotte explained the rules.
Elizabeth felt positively humming in excitement. She had heard about these, but with how poor her community had been back home, this was the first time she'd had an opportunity to join a Ouija Board game. "The rules differ from here - do we want to assign a medium, or take turns asking questions?" Charlotte finally asked.
"Take turns," Elizabeth voted at the same time Edmund said, "Elizabeth would be a great medium." She blushed, glad for the dim lights of the evening, while Charlotte encouraged Vittorio to break the tie.
"I suppose whichever it says on the particular instructions for this board?" Vittorio suggested, deftly removing himself from the responsibility for Elizabeth's or Edmund's disappointment.
"Take turns it is. Edmund, you're not on your knees, you know that's important to the game." Edmund did not seem too sad, thankfully. "In the spirit of Edmund's suggestion, we could have Elizabeth start?" With the number of them, they only had room to put one hand each on the planchet, each lightly touching it with two fingers.
Elizabeth paused, trying to get into the mood of the game. "Dear spirits, is there anyone here with us?" They waited nearly 30 seconds before the planchet slowly began to drift over to the 'Yes'.
As Edmund yelled,"I told you! It's a government house, someone's got to have died here!" Elizabeth realized she was truly enjoying herself, without nagging worries weighing her down.
In the end, it was Elizabeth bumping the table in a moment of surprise that convinced the others that she had truly gotten the experience of being tipsy.
After their three weeks at the government house were up, Boseman did not seem fully satisfied. And it was reasonable - three weeks of training could only do so much when it wasn't in the real world. Still, when she moved them to a government house in the city for a few weeks of on-the-job training, Elizabeth knew the other three mourned the additional weeks where they wouldn't be able to drink with dinner. And here, it would be harder for Edmund to sneak any bottles in from home. Elizabeth didn't mind, though. As fun as it had been in the moment, it was definitely disconcerting to know she had been entirely unable to use her power.
Everything in this government house was smaller - the bedrooms, the sitting room, even the water closet. And, worse, it was decorated with their promotional posters. Whoever had put the posters up in this house was going to suffer. Elizabeth did not need to use her power to know they would regret that decision, just as soon as Vittorio found out who it was. And, well, she wasn't about to interfere. They were all a reminder of the terrible names they and their powers had been given.
Training on the job, however, proved to be an enormous improvement upon simulated training. Knowing that the civilians needing rescue were actually in danger made all the difference in the decisions being made, and in their teamwork.
The days continued much the same, although with the amount of time they were out of the government house, someone had finally allocated funds to give them a cook. And while Edmund, Charlotte, and Vittorio had tried their best when it came to cooking, they were all quite glad to have someone with experience making their food every day.
The days were a blur, and suddenly their rest days were randomized, to keep criminals on their toes. They dealt with hostage situations, shootouts, a couple of people aiming to become supervillains, a few more sad ones who assumed that they would have to become supervillains because of their powers. They'd even attended the Sherry-Netherland fire. Boseman told them that the workload would die down with time - that once they were household names, they would be asked for help only in situations the police could not handle.
Elizabeth was not sure what to think about that, as the number of lives they saved rose. There were some that came to her mind unbidden - the ones that they would not have even known to save if it had not been for her power. They were the hidden, the lost in either body or spirit.
And Edmund.
The limited time to visit their families was beginning to take a toll on Charlotte and Vittorio. Elizabeth was used to it - it was easier to call the farm than find the time and money to visit. Edmund, though. Edmund just seemed sad when the topic came up.
Elizabeth knew better than to press Edmund for answers. Instead, the days Charlotte and Vittorio went home she spent in the sitting room with Edmund. They played board games and listened to radio shows together. It turned out that they had both been thinking about going into journalism before superhero legalization. They had similar reasons for going into both journalism and heroism, similar ideals.
It was one such day that Elizabeth awoke uneasily. She made Vittorio promise to wear his padded silk vest before he left, and settled with Edmund in the sitting room. He was listening to the radio drama pensievely, watching the street out their window, while she sat at an easel. Vittorio had brought back watercolors to share, and Elizabeth found she enjoyed painting, however poorly.
At one point, Elizabeth convinced Edmund to play a game of Pegity, but it did not last long, and he was soon at the window again. It was an odd restlessness, but one Elizabeth shared. Something was wrong , and she wanted to tell Edmund. But what was there to say? Her power was buzzing ominously in her mind, but had no details yet. It was almost as if the danger was undecided.
So she let the rest day continue as usual.
Elizabeth was just about to ask Edmund if he knew what the cook had left them for lunch when the fog of indecision left her power, and suddenly there wasn't time. Elizabeth was out of her seat and at the window before her mouth could form words, and then shoving Edmund as hard as she could just as she managed to yell, "Edmund, move!"
There wasn't enough time, but she'd done her best. Glass shattered, and the room blurred in the way it did if Edmund had to move them with his speed. Relief hit before the pain did - Elizabeth's power was mostly quiet, and Edmund was alive. Panic was the biggest danger now. They had another three seconds before the next shot.
Only after Elizabeth had ripped her dress to hold as a makeshift bandage and keep pressure on her wound did she realize what Edmund was saying. "Why would you do that?" The second shot interrupted both of them, the bullet hitting one of the armchairs. "I'm faster than bullets!"
"You're faster than handgun bullets - this is a sniper." A third bullet hit, much closer to where Edmund had pulled her. Elizabeth pressed the cloth against her wound to slow the bleeding and keep herself focused. "It was my arm or your lung. Can you get to the phone without being seen at any of the windows?"
With a solemn nod, Edmund disappeared, and all Elizabeth had to worry about was making sure the sniper wasn't able to track her. Or, when that was not possible, using her power to stay ahead of them. They'd get three, maybe four more shots off before making their escape.
Looking to her left, Elizabeth realized she had knocked the easel over in her haste. Too bad, it would have made excellent cover. She made do with a brown armchair large enough to hold two, and there was one less shot to worry about avoiding. Slowly she made her way to the doorway. And, just as she'd expected, the gunfire died off before she had to worry about further escape plans.
It was anyone's guess as to whether Boseman or Edmund was more upset. The whole team was meeting now, as police crawled over every inch of the neighborhood. The whole team and a surgeon - someone Boseman had convinced to remove the bullet from Elizabeth's arm and give her stitches in the kitchen. Elizabeth was a little perturbed that while she had been the one actually shot, she seemed to be better off than Boseman or Edmund.
Boseman's feelings were straightforward at least - she was angry. She was possessive of this project, so it was little wonder she was so livid that members of her team had been attacked. Edmund, on the other hand, was a great many kinds of upset. He seemed to feel angry, sad, and guilty in equal measures. Of the three, the guilt was what Elizabeth understood and liked the least.
After several moments of silence, Boseman folded her arms. "Well, we were able to pinpoint the sniper's vantage point. It looks like they had used the fire escapes to get to and from a roof about a block down. It had a good view of the sitting room window, and limited views of the foyer. To be aiming at the sitting room so early in the day, we think they knew you had the day off."
"It would not be difficult to notice, if they were watching our building. It's the only day Charlotte and Vittorio leave the house at the same time without Edmund and I." It was difficult to speak without hissing in at each prick of the surgeon's needle, but none of the rest of the team seemed to be evaluating the danger clearly. "To avoid that, we would need to have a location they cannot keep consistent eyes on, or one with too many people to track."
All eyes turned on Elizabeth. Vittorio looked thoughtful and impressed, while most of the rest seemed surprised she was so coherent while having a gunshot wound stitched up. Edmund mostly looked guilty, still - as if her injury was due to a failing of his. The only sound for several seconds came from the surgeon at her side.
"We do not have any safe houses in the city that would fit those criteria and would fit all four of you. There's only the country house." Boseman frowned. "We could report an injury, and send you there while Elizabeth recovers."
Both Elizabeth and Vittorio started shaking their heads well before Boseman finished. "If you send us all away, they will take advantage of the predictable gap in our work," Vittorio retorted. "We need to remain in the city."
Elizabeth nodded along. "And my power does not involve my arm - I can go out into the field with it bandaged up." Edmund's face clouded even darker with guilt as she indicated her injury. "If there are no better options, this house will be the safest - we at least know what weak points to watch."
"Very well."
Pain had Elizabeth up fair earlier than usual. It was no worse than it had been the night before, but without something to focus on, the pain dominated her mind. The surgeon had left some morphine behind, but she had no intention of taking it. Pain was acceptable - a dulled power when they might be in danger was not.
To her surprise, the rest of the team was already up as well. Charlotte was brewing the coffee as they waited on the delivery of their breakfast, and Vittorio read the paper. As soon as Elizabeth entered the room, Edmund was on his feet, pulling her chair away from the dining table.
"Er, thank you?" To Elizabeth's surprise, Edmund pushed her chair in as well. She looked up at him, confused. When breakfast arrived, he passed her plate to her as well, and poured her milk for her. At that point, it was starting to get annoying. She had an injured arm, but she was hardly an invalid.
Charlotte sat after setting the coffee pot down, "You're making Elizabeth uncomfortable, Edmund."
"I'm trying to make her more comfortable," Edmund snapped back.
"Then you're doing it wrong. Look at her!" Charlotte demanded, gesturing angrily at Elizabeth. The table might as well have iced over for how cold Charlotte's tone was. For the first time this morning, Edmund met Elizabeth's eyes. And then he walked out of the room, leaving his breakfast behind.
A few moments of silence passed. Then Charlotte picked up the bottle of juice by Edmund's plate, and turned it over. "Yep, Old Fashioned Chivalrous Guilt," she said, as if reading off the label.
No one spoke for several moments before Vittorio finally cleared his throat. Carefully constructing his sentences to avoid accidental use of his power, Vittorio commented, "It would not be worth cutting your breakfast short, Elizabeth, but I believe that an honest conversation with you might be helpful to Edmund."
The rest of breakfast passed in uneasy silence, and when Elizabeth left the table, she took Edmund's untouched plate with her. His room was the furthest upstairs, which was a little tricky to bring a plate up to without use of her right arm. But she'd avoided the morphine for a reason, and it paid off in the number of times her power prevented her from dropping the plate. When Elizabeth got to his door, however, she realized an oversight. She couldn't knock.
"Um, Edmund? I brought your breakfast up. Could we please talk? Or could you at least take the plate, so it's not as hard to get down the stairs?" Elizabeth just hoped he'd stayed in a part of his room where he'd hear her clearly.
It took a couple moments, but she heard shuffling steps. The door opened, and Edmund looked more down in the dumps than Elizabeth had ever seen him. Silently, she held his plate out with one hand. Melancholic eyes examined her face, and then Edmund took the plate. He said nothing, but stepped back to let Elizabeth into the room.
They sat in stifling quiet. Edmund picked at his plate, and Elizabeth stared down at her bandaged arm. After several minutes of this, Elizabeth realized she would have to start this conversation.
"You're upset that I got hurt."
Edmund sat up straight, a denial on his lips. But the somber moment was getting to him as well. "I… yes. I wasn't fast enough."
Elizabeth reached out to touch Edmund's hand. While he startled, he did not pull away. "You were fast enough. You pulled me to safety before the sniper could get their second shot off."
"I should have noticed the sniper."
"What, with absolutely no training on that?"
"You caught it," Edmund's tone turned bitter.
"My power told me you were going to die. My choices were to let you die, or take a flesh wound. I didn't know there was a sniper until after you'd pulled me away." Elizabeth walked her fingers along his hand, and clasped it. "I really didn't - don't - want to see you die."
Sadness shone in Edmund's eyes as he squeezed her hand. "I wasn't fast enough."
"You were. We are a team. I look for anything faster than you, and you are fast enough to pick up the pieces. I know that it is easy to take the world on your shoulders when you are capable of so much, but I hope you do not mind sharing it? With your partner? With a friend?"
Edmund's eyes would not leave their intertwined hands, but he responded," I will try."
"Clotho's Injury" was announced on the radio that evening, and Elizabeth could tell Edmund was as uncomfortable about the segment as she was. The situation had been framed as 'stopping an assassination', and the announcer waxed poetic about how brave the heroine was to be going right back into the field. As if it had anything to do with bravery, rather than avoiding worse consequences. Much like most things Elizabeth did in life.
The team planned carefully for the next outing. With Elizabeth's injury having been announced, it was likely that any offensive they met would target her. They requisitioned a megaphone - one of the large red ones like the army had used. Then, they had to discuss how best to protect Elizabeth, while keeping her near enough that the megaphone would make any appreciable difference.
Elizabeth spent most of the next several outings either standing with the police and yelling through a big cone, or within feet of another team member. It was often Vittorio, since they were both quite vulnerable to bullets of all sorts compared to Charlotte and Edmund. Two weeks later, Elizabeth was cleared for full duty again, and they slipped back into their usual teamwork like a well-oiled machine.
Two months later
Rest days as often as not were spent on the couch in Edmund's room. He was still wary of the sitting room window, and Elizabeth could tell that he felt more in control in his room. And, after that one disastrous afternoon, Elizabeth did not feel like spending her rest days alone.
Edmund was also much more talkative in his own room. He told her of his past, how he had come to have insecurities about not being fast enough. They discussed the ethics of journalism, and why they hated the coverage of their hero personas.
It made a visible difference in their teamwork. Edmund did not just listen to Elizabeth, but understand her meaning better. On her end, Elizabeth learned to warn Edmund when there was a choice between bad or worse. It was still touch and go where injuries to the team were involved, but Elizabeth's power had managed to keep those fairly minor.
There was something on the horizon, however. That same foggy and overwhelming feeling of dread hung over Elizabeth this morning as had the day of the sniping. With the additional practice, she knew it meant something very, very dangerous was being decided upon, somewhere. Who was deciding, and what options they had on the table? Elizabeth would not know that until a decision was made. But, after last time, that was not good enough for Elizabeth. It was Edmund she approached first, and as soon as she described what her power was saying, he agreed to help her convince the other two on her plan. They should have known there would not be much convincing required. Charlotte was happy to take part in any plan that might save lives, and Vittorio agreed that such a rare feeling occurring twice could be no coincidence.
For the first time in a long while, Elizabeth went towards where the danger felt greatest without a plan. She led the others along, and their group would have turned several heads if they had worn their costumes. But this was not an official call - whatever disaster they tackled today could very well be handled without them changing at all. If not, Charlotte had a rucksack with their uniforms in it.
Elizabeth's power dragged them on an odd tour of New York, finally ending at the Williamsburg Bridge. It was not a particularly famous bridge anymore, not since both the Bear Mountain and Benjamin Franklin bridges had beaten it out in length. The waterline was dotted with industrial warehouses, which would make investigating the source of the danger difficult.
But at least they were here, and they were ready. It was a safe place to change into their costumes, as many nooks and crannies as there were to hide in, and to keep a wary eye on the bridge itself.
It was nearing dusk when the fog started to drop away from Elizabeth's power. "We need to clear the bridge - they're starting to make decisions. Where's the nearest phone - we also need to call Boseman."
Vittorio and Edmund both nodded and immediately began to move - Vittorio towards the bridge, and Edmund to where he had last seen a phone. Elizabeth pulled Charlotte to the best vantage point they had of the bridge, and pointed to where the near suspension tower met the bridge. "There's something happening there, and where the cables anchor into the earth. I don't know what it is, but even with your power you need to be careful, or you'll be injured. There should be an electric megaphone in one of these buildings - keep an ear out for me."
Charlotte flew off to investigate the areas indicated, leaving Elizabeth alone. After staring at the bridge, begging it to give up its secrets, she ran after Vittorio. The closer Elizabeth was to the destruction, the more useful her power would be.
A handful of police had arrived, and they had only managed to clear a third of the bridge when the first explosion rocked it. Both Elizabeth and Edmund had caught up with Vittorio, long ago and all three watched in horror as the bridge began to slump and the near tower burned.
It took only moments for Elizabeth to form an updated estimate of the damage. "Nimblejack, you need to break the windshields on any cars with people that might fall into the water. You don't have time to get them all out." Edmund disappeared from her side, and Elizabeth turned to where Vittorio stood at the nearest building's megaphone - she felt lucky his power worked through it. "Magnus, tell them to try to float. Astraea will pull them out of the water, but she has to be able to see them." Vittorio nodded solemnly, and began speaking, his voice magnified for nearly the whole bridge to hear.
That only left her to go to the cable anchor point and try to prevent a second explosion. A handful of officers trailed after Elizabeth, but they were all keeping a healthy distance. And, when the anchor came into sight, she was glad. Someone had spent some good time at this - drilling into the concrete and filling it with blasting power. There was a long detonator wire leading off towards the warehouses in the distance. Elizabeth immediately made a sharp turn towards the bridge, as if her power had alerted her to a more important matter. As she turned, she waved one of the officers closer.
"Do you have anyone in plainclothes who could cut that detonation wire closer to the warehouses? They'll set off that charge if they notice us get too close."
The officer shook his head. "No Miss Clotho - we've evacuated the civilians, and all the plainclothes officers with them."
"Damn." The officer seemed surprised to hear her swear. Elizabeth's face twisted up in thought, testing a few ideas against her power. None of the other options were particularly good. She bit her lip, gazing blankly out at the skyline where Edmund and Charlotte zipped around.
They didn't have the time.
"Officer Fletcher?"
There was a look of deep concern on his face. "Now, Miss Clotho, don't go taking no wooden dimes. I can have a plainclothes officer called back in - they could have that wire cut in seven minutes."
Elizabeth looked down at him sadly. "We don't have that much time, Officer Fletcher. I'm afraid I'll have to do something quite foolish." There was no hope of her uniform blending in. She'd have to make a dash for it. "Would you please go let Magnus know what I'm trying to handle?"
"Miss Clotho, I really don't think-" But it was too late, Elizabeth was already in a flat out run towards the cable anchor. The danger was high, but the danger of leaving it was higher. The least worrying plan involved pulling the wire out of the boreholes as she ran past - it had the best balance of chances of success and survival.
Leaning over and grabbing the wire should have been the scariest moment. It was when she was nearest the explosives, and most likely to trip. That moment, however, came two steps later, when Elizabeth realized the danger had not lessened.
There was another explosive on this line, and it wasn't for taking out the bridge.
Suddenly, Elizabeth was running faster than she ever had before. The second she was sure they were far enough from the anchor, she dropped the wire and started to curve to the right. Her power was nearly screaming the danger in her ear. The last time it had been this loud, Elizabeth had nearly died to a horse kick in her father's barn.
I'm not going to die.
The anxiety that came with Elizabeth's power built, and built… and suddenly there was a way out. Four more steps, and a crash like thunder split behind her. Elizabeth leapt forward, carefully curling her body just so, and prayed her power was right.
Warm arms wrapped around Elizabeth's waist, and she was pulled away from the explosion so quickly the jerk nearly made her throw up. The next thing Elizabeth could see, she was on the pavement leading up to the bridge, a terrified looking Edmund wrapped around her. She could see a small piece of steel embedded in his shoulder, but he seemed to have avoided the rest of the shrapnel.
"You're hurt," Elizabeth said, adrenaline still making her mind and heart race.
"You could have died!" There were tears falling down Edmund's cheeks, she realized. He was crying for her.
Elizabeth shakily cupped Edmund's cheek in one of her hands. "Thank you."
Their foreheads met in a harsh clunk that did nothing for Elizabeth's burgeoning headache. She could feel Edmund's eyelashes and his tears. "I turned around and saw you with those wires - I was so scared."
"I was scared too, Edmund." Elizabeth brought her other shaky hand up to the other side of Edmund's face, and tilted her face until their noses touched. "But I knew you would be fast enough."