Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Danny Hebert feels like a failure. He has felt that way for a long time. He watched his city, Brockton Bay, descend into chaos with the rise of superpowered gangs. Trade slowly stopped because of the giant rusted boats left by Leviathan, one of the Endbringers. His wife, Annette Hebert, died in a car crash. And now this.

His daughter, Taylor Hebert, has been sitting in their upstairs bathtub for a week. Her eyes are closed. Her skin is pale, drained of color. All around her is black water. Ink water. A month ago, she was sent to the hospital after being trapped in a school locker filled with bugs and rotting biological waste. Bullied—for a year—and he never knew.

The doctors put her on antibiotics and sent her home. Only because the school wanted to keep the incident quiet did they cover the bills.

She hadn’t spoken a single word to him on the way home. She walked inside, went straight to the bathroom, and never came out. That night, he knocked, but she didn’t answer. Out of worry, he opened the door—and found her in the tub, eyes closed, black ink staining the floor.

He had never known such fear coursing through his veins. He called the cops. The cops called the PRT. Black ink water isn’t normal.

Now, after a week of observation, Armsmaster stands in the bathroom beside Danny, while Taylor remains in the bathtub. The armored man raises his arm, speaking into his comms.

“Subject Hebert has been in a meditative trance for one week. She has not lost muscle mass or nutrients in her body. We refrained from touching her without the father’s consent, which hindered the investigation. We cannot predict what might happen if we interfere,” he says.

Danny frowns, but he is too exhausted to argue. He hasn’t gone to work at the Dockworkers Association all week. His coworkers understood, and he had the time. He sleeps when he can. Eats when he remembers. The rest of his time? Sitting in that bathroom, watching his daughter breathe. She doesn’t move. Somehow, the ink never poisons her.

“The ink appears to be produced by the subject herself. It contains the same chemicals as standard ink. She has consumed no food or water for a month. We must assume she is a Parahuman,” Armsmaster concludes.

He turns his gaze to Danny. “Mr. Hebert, what was your daughter’s behavior before the locker incident?”

“Quiet. And…” Danny’s voice cracks. “I don’t know. I was drowning in grief and work. I didn’t have the energy to pay attention.” The words pierce him harder than any bullet ever could. He lost his wife. He can’t lose his daughter, too—not when he has so much to make right.

“I understand she recorded the bullying in journals?” Armsmaster asks.

“Yes,” Danny replies. “The teachers ignored her. Or called it kids being kids.”

⊢———————————⊣

While Danny speaks, Dragon—the greatest Tinker in the world and Armsmaster’s closest ally—speaks through the comms. “Sophia Hess, Shadow Stalker, was listed as one of the bullies. Colin, this may mean she violated her parole.”

Armsmaster nods, both to Danny and to Dragon’s words. “Mr. Hebert, growing up near the ocean, did your daughter show interest in marine life?” A stretch, but powers sometimes tie into fragments of a person’s life.

“No.”

Another nod. Armsmaster steps closer to the tub, his helmet scanning the black surface. “Note for log: the ink’s composition matches cephalopod ink.” He hums. “Thank you for your answers, Mr. Hebert. If anything changes, contact the PRT response line.” He begins to turn away—when something shifts.

“Colin! Move!” Dragon shouts into his ear.

Instinct saves him. He dives aside as a purple and red fleshy tentacle erupts past him; the tentacle has several golden jewelry pieces on it. The tip splits apart to reveal sharp fangs and a long, slimy tongue. It embedded itself into the bathroom floor.

He spins to see Taylor Hebert rising from the tub. Her arm is raised, black and dripping with ink. Her eyes snap open—deep, bloody red.

Above her head, a red portal twists, birthing the tentacle. Red eyes flicker in the portal. Armsmaster felt pressure in his head. He grits his teeth as the situation escalates beyond his expectations.

“Males! In my nest!” She hisses.

Danny surges to his feet. “Taylor! Little owl, I’m here!” He rushes forward, ignoring the danger.

“Hebert! She doesn’t recognize you!” Armsmaster warns, trying to hold him back.

Taylor hisses again. The tentacle unhooks from the tile and swings into place before her father. The tentacle mimics her outstretched arm.

“Leave, intruders! Before I kill you!” she snarls.

She tries to rise, but her body trembles. She collapses back into the black water.

Danny stops. Tears blur his vision. He backs away, heartbroken.

“Mr. Hebert. We need to leave. Now.” Armsmaster grips his shoulder, pulling him into the hallway.

The last thing Danny sees is the tentacle snapping the door shut.

He collapses to the floor outside, whispering, “She didn’t recognize me…”

Armsmaster takes the moment to calm his beating heart. He could vaguely hear Miss Hebert making noise in the bathroom. He turns to her father. “Mr. Hebert. If I suggest we move you away from here, would you do so?” he asks.

“No,” Mr. Hebert replied. “I failed her too many times. I’ll be there for her now.” He pushes himself from the floor. “I’ll sleep in the living room if needed.”

Armsmaster taps on his helmet. “Dragon, please alert Director Piggot. I am on my way back to the Rig headquarters.”

“Yes, Colin. Should I keep an eye on the area?” she asks.

“Yes. If she can summon portals, then who knows how big it can get. We will need to start assigning power ratings as well.” He turns, then begins his walk out of the house and to his motorcycle. “She proved hostile to males. Her powers may have changed her mental state. Master rating, number not yet determined. Maybe a Blaster rating. If she produces that ink, then logically she could manipulate it. Thinker and Changer rating. Those last two are debatable.” He turned on his vehicle and then drove off.

⊢———————————⊣

Danny found himself in the living room, downstairs. He gathered his pillow and bed cover from his own room. He decided to sleep on the couch, but he doubts he will get much sleep. His daughter is up there. She needs him, but he doesn’t know what to do for her.

He never knows what to do. He sighs. He is sitting on the couch with his hands on his head. He is so tired. He closes his eyes. It’s currently eight at night. It’s Saturday. Maybe things will change tomorrow…

There is a thud upstairs. He heard the bathroom door creak open slowly. Being an old door, the hinges creaked.

Then a voice, “Male!” Taylor's voice screams. “Your Queen requires attendance! Male!”

Danny’s eyes snap open. He raises his head in the direction of the stairs. “Little Owl?”

“I can hear you male! Your Queen demands fish!”

All Danny can do is groan.

⊢———————————⊣

Danny had gone to the kitchen and opened the freezer. There had only ever been one frozen cod inside—the one he brought home a week ago. They weren’t big on fish. But sometimes, they ate it. He had hoped she would remember him. Or her mother. He hadn’t known how much more his heart could take.

He had tried to keep his head down and get his dockworkers jobs, since technically the position for Head of the Dockworkers Association hadn’t been filled since the economy took a hit when Leviathan left the Boat Graveyard, blocking incoming ships. So yes, technically, he’d been the boss.

He’d been there when the Teeth and the Butcher ran out. He’d been there when Lustrum was arrested. The Bay had always been home, no matter how much trash it contained.

“Male!” Taylor shouts now from upstairs. “I want my fish raw!” There’s a heavy thud. “And garments!”

Danny picks up the frozen fish. He turns toward the stairs. The bathroom door is open. He pauses.

Taylor is in the bathtub. Her normal brown curly hair is now pitch black, yet still curly. Her eyes are still red. The tentacle is gone. At the base of the bathroom door sits a pink starfish.

Taylor rests her head on the edge of the tub. “Finally, the male showed himself,” she says. “You are my Sire. You are supposed to be the best of my servants.”

“Sire? You mean father?” Danny asks. He strolls closer to the bathroom, remembering how she had threatened to kill him and Armsmaster.

“Sire. The Queen uses elegant language,” she says. “Where are my garments?” Taylor sits up to look at him.

“You have a room on this floor,” he replies. Probably not the best time to put on the stern parent role—Annette was always better at that than he was—but he’s floundering for a sense of normalcy.

“That was for my weak previous self. My god transformed me!” She flings her arms into the air. “Ascended into the Queen of the Deep! His high priestess!” Her mouth widens into a sharp, fanged smile. She stands up, her body pitch black, as if absolutely stained with ink.

Her body trembles, then she sinks back into the ink. “Curse this body. I’m still growing into my new power,” she says. Her face shifts back to a detached expression.

Danny feels fear. He feels like he failed her, even though he knows he isn’t at fault for this new version of his daughter. She’s religious now? To some kind of thing? She seems to remember he’s her father—and perhaps her other memories. That’s at least something.

He takes a breath. He walks forward and stretches his arm out to his daughter. “I have the fish, Taylor. You… you remember me then?”

She glares at him, but quickly snatches the fish and begins to gnaw on it. If she cares about the ice, she doesn’t show it. “It takes enormous effort on the Queen’s memory to remember incompetent males, but she remembers her Sire.”

Danny nods to himself. He can deal with her insulting him. She never did that before her powers. It hurts, but at least she remembers him. He can slowly rebuild their relationship as long as she remembers him.

“I’m glad you are alright, kiddo. I was scared that you were out all week,” he says.

“The Queen was adapting to her new body,” Taylor retorts. She shoves the fish down her throat and swallows. “I am tired now. I need to make new ink. And make this area into my new throne.” She leans over, picks up the starfish, turns it over, and throws it onto the toilet.

Danny has many questions. Frankly, he’s too tired to ask the ones that need to be asked. “Kiddo. It’s getting late. I’m going to bed. We can talk more in the morning.” Danny brings up his hands to rub his face. “It’s been a long week for both of us.”

“I want my garments,” Taylor says stubbornly. “Getting it myself is peasant work.”

“I’ll get you some clothes tomorrow. Please, try to get some rest.” Danny turns to leave the bathroom.

“Fine! The Queen does not need a male’s help anyway!” She turns her head to ignore him.

Danny leaves the bathroom.

He knows tomorrow is going to be another long day.

To be continued

Chapter Text

Taylor feels a hand shake her naked, ink-skinned shoulder. She hisses and opens her eyes. Her male Sire dares touch her?! His Queen! “You dare?!” she yells. She sits up from her relaxed position in her pool of ink.

Danny looks back at his daughter. “Taylor. I made breakfast. It’s…” He lifts his wrist to glance at his watch. “It’s eight in the morning.” He takes a look at the bathroom. It looks a little different from last night. Two pink starfish are clinging to the walls, a cluster of red sponges just above the toilet, and oh yeah. A literal school of blue fish swimming around the bathroom. The fish swim mid-air. Somehow, without any water around them.

He’s had trouble sleeping. Go figure—his life has once again changed. First, he married his wife; then his daughter was born. His wife died, and now his daughter has become this figure with a royal attitude, who apparently worships some creature.

He’s so overwhelmed that it’s all he can think about. Some days he wants to give up—but here his daughter is. She needs him. He’ll help her, whatever it takes.

Danny takes a breath, then exhales. “Taylor. Downstairs. Now,” he orders. He doesn’t necessarily want a seemingly superpowered teen who can summon portals angry at him, but dammit, he’s trying.

Taylor stands up and raises her arm. Red lights form above her head, but no portal or tentacles appear—yet.

He stares at her. “I made sausages and eggs. I’m going downstairs to wait for you. You’re going to get out of this bathroom, get dressed, and come down for breakfast,” he says firmly. He really hopes she can’t see his legs shaking from nerves.

She glares at him. Her arm trembles, then she sinks back into the ink. “Fine,” she mutters. Her eyes lower themselves from his gaze.

Danny exhales—a small victory. “I am your father. Not your slave. I am supposed to be your provider. Your protector. You are still a teenager, not yet an adult. As long as you live in my house, you obey my rules. Understand?”

Taylor turns her head. She slowly shakes her head up and down. “Okay.” Her eyes close.

He nods to himself, then turns and walks downstairs to make sure breakfast is ready. They need a good talk. He is nowhere ready for it, but they must have it.

He spent about ten minutes busying himself in the kitchen. Since that week, Taylor has been unconscious, and he finally saw the terrible shape their house has been in. He knew they were practically strangers since her mother died in the car crash. The dishes have been piling up in the sink; the house needs several repairs, and it's in dire need of cleaning.

Ten minutes later, he put away the dirty dishes he had been using all week, when he heard thuds and muffled cursing.

Taylor stomps down the stairs in ink-stained sweatpants and a black shirt, leaving a trail of ink behind her. She reaches the kitchen table, pushes the chair back roughly, and sits down. Her ink-black arms rest heavily on the table.

Her curly black hair is now even darker, literally stained with ink. In fact, all of Taylor’s skin seems to be coated in it. Her red eyes glare at him.

“Are you happy now, male?” she asks, baring her sharp, fanged teeth at him.

“Manners. Close your mouth. I’m Dad, not male,” Danny says. He turns to her, then sits down, motioning to the spread of plates on the table. As he’s told her before, it’s sausage and eggs—nothing fancy.

She closes her mouth but keeps her frown. “Isn’t that what you are? A useless, incompetent, depression-driven male.” Her eyes bore into him, the emphasis on depression sharp and deliberate.

Danny takes a breath, then exhales. “I deserve that. I failed you, Taylor. When… when your mom passed, you were hurting too. Your former friend bullied you, and I didn’t know…” He lowers his head, gritting his teeth. Alan Barnes—someone he thought was his friend—might already know about his brat of a daughter bullying Taylor.

Taylor lowers her eyes to her plate, lips twitching. “The Queen thought she could handle her problems on her own.”

Danny can’t help but laugh to himself, even though he doesn’t feel amused. “Your mom was the same. I wanted spaghetti one night, she wanted fried chicken, and damn if I ever got what I wanted. So stubborn.”

Taylor’s lips twitch into a small smile. “Then I said, ‘Why not make chicken spaghetti?’”

Danny glances up at her. “Taylor, you remember that?”

Her smile falters, then hardens into a scowl. “The Queen said nothing.”

Danny searches her face. Her eyes stay firmly on her breakfast plate, and her jaw is set in that stubborn scowl.

“Let’s just eat then.” Danny sighs again.

They start to eat the breakfast set before them. Taylor doesn’t use any of the silverware—just her hands, grabbing the sausages and tilting the plate to slide the eggs into her mouth.

Unlike her, he takes his time. He has plenty of questions for her, but he doesn’t know how to start. He has to. He has no other choice. He looks up at her. “You remember everything?”

She sets her plate down. “Yes,” she mutters.

“Then why this act? The Queenly thing?” he asks.

“Taylor was weak. She let herself be tormented just because she wanted to be morally better. The Queen will not let that happen,” Taylor says. “The Queen looked into the Abyss of Inferno, and her Lord stared back!” She lifts her arms in zealous glee, her red eyes blazing, her mouth stretching into a sharp grin. “Praise be, Lord Kraken, the Despot of the Sullen Maw!”

Danny can see her full arms now. Her sleeves have slid back enough for him to notice that her skin is entirely black, her arms stained with ink, her fingers tapering into sharp points.

He’s terrified. Staring into her eyes, he sees not his reflection but something else. Something is staring back.

His heart races, his hands tremble. He’s afraid of his daughter—and for her. He isn’t ready for this. He’s just a normal guy.

He wishes Annette were here. She would know what to do…

To be continued