I, Panacea

A Worm SI Story

Part 1: Oh No, Not Again

Disclaimers:

1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.

2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations.

3) I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion. Posting a negative review from an anonymous account is a good way to have said review deleted.

14 April 2011

Brockton Bay Central Bank

Just after midday

"Eight seconds."

Amy wasn't really sure if Tattletale was bluffing, or if she really had damaging information about Amy's real father. She did seem very sure of herself. On the other hand, Amy really didn't want these two supervillains – they weren't any older than her! - to get away with robbing the bank in broad daylight.

Gambling that the bug girl was just bluffing, that she wouldn't really cut her throat, Amy lunged free of her grip. She met Vicky's eyes as she got free; Vicky nodded slightly and went for Tattletale. The girl in the skin-tight outfit tried to get behind a desk, but Vicky simply went over it, shoving her backward with all the power of which she was capable.

For a moment, Amy thought that Glory Girl might simply fly into the wall, crushing the girl to a bloody pulp, but she stopped just short of it. Giving Tattletale a hard shove that slammed her into the wall, she put her hand over the girl's mouth. Amy approved; Tattletale's voice seemed to be the most dangerous thing about her.

Now to deal with the bug girl.

Amy began to turn back toward the second supervillain. She'd already shown herself unwilling to use the knife on Amy, so all Amy had to do -

Too late, she heard the metallic click-click-click-click.

That's not a gun.

The extendible baton caught her just above the ear. She staggered a couple of feet, then tumbled to the ground.

=/=

"-an you hear me, miss? Hello? Can you hear me?"

There was a bright light shining in her eye. She tried to blink; the reflex happened, but it was late. A second or so after she applied the effort. The light shifted to her other eye; again, the blink was late. Really, really late.

"Can you hear me?" asked the voice again.

She tried to frame an answer, but her lips and tongue were unresponsive.

And then she answered, anyway. "Yes. I can hear you."

That wasn't what I was going to say!

What?

The voice in the back of her head startled her. It was distinct from her own thoughts, audible over the buzz of sound around her.

"Where … where am I?" she heard herself ask, to her utter consternation. She knew where she was.

Okay, where am I?

What? Who are you? Where are you?

Right here. Who are you? What are you doing in my head? And where am I?

The man asking questions, the paramedic, asked, "Do you remember your name?"

"I, uh -" her lips faltered.

What's my name? Where am I?

I don't know what your name is, but my name's Amy Dallon. Now get out of my head!

I thought this was my head. Fuck.

"- uh, Amy Dallon -"

Whatever was controlling her lips, her speech, seemed to freeze up at that moment.

Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me.

What would I be kidding you about?

A silent groan. I'm in fucking Brockton Bay again, aren't I?

Mentally, she frowned. I'm in Brockton Bay, yes. Why?

What date is it?

What does that matter to you?

A lot.

At that moment, the paramedic asked, "Miss Dallon, do you know what date it is?"

A sigh. Did you just get hit in the head by a girl who could control bugs, right after you clocked her with a fire extinguisher?

You forgot about the bit where she held a knife to my throat.

She wasn't going to use it. She just didn't want to get pummelled to a pulp by your foster sister.

Out loud, her lips said, "April fourteenth, two thousand and eleven."

How did you know that now, when you didn't know it before?

The voice was grim. Trust me, Amy, I know this shit. Can you control your body at all? I'm letting go.

She felt a subtle relaxation, all over her body. Exerting herself, she strained to blink her eyes, move a finger, do anything.

Nothing happened.

Oh god, what's happened to me?

I have an idea. Not the how, but the what.

What? Tell me. Please.

When you got hit, you got … jarred. Jolted loose from your body. And stupid fucking me dropped into the command seat before you got back.

What? How is that even possible?

Oh, trust me.The grim tone was back. I have a habit of doing this shit.

"Amy." The voice was Vicky's. "Can you move? Can you get up?"

She felt the stranger in her mind reassert control, and she got up, moving awkwardly. Vicky helped her, supporting her, until her footing was steady.

"Thanks," her voice sounded strange in her ears. "Are you all right, Vicky?"

Glory Girl's face was blotched with insect bites, and her eyes were reddened. "I'll be fine. I'll be a lot better once I catch up with the Undersiders."

"Here, let me help you with that." Amy felt her hand rest on her sister's bare skin. There was a pause.

Okay, how do I turn it on?

Turn what on?

Your biokinesis. You want to heal your sister's bug bites, right?

How did you even know I had biokinesis?

A sigh. Oh, for fuck's sake. Are we going to trust each other, or not?

How can I trust you? You haven't even told me your name.

A pause. I haven't? I thought I had.

No. You hadn't.

Ah. Sorry. My name's Michael Allen.

That doesn't tell me much. Are you a Thinker?

No. I'm a security guard.

You have to be joking.

I only wish I was. Now, can I have the keys to the car, or not?

… I don't think so. Not for the moment.

A sigh. Great.

She realised that Vicky was looking at her expectantly. "Amy?"

Her arm lifted and her hand pressed to her forehead. "Sorry, Vicky. Head's a bit sore. I'm finding it a little hard to concentrate. Maybe later?"

That's weak.

Spur of the moment, okay?

You realise, Vicky's known me all my life. She'll realise it's not me running the show sooner or later.

It's not like I planned this, okay?

You could tell them what's happened.

Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't even know what happened. Just that it did. And how's it going to sound? "Hey, listen. I'm not really Amy, I'm just driving her body while she gives me advice from the back seat." Master/Stranger protocols much?

… oh.

Yeah. Oh. Now listen, there's things we need to discuss.

Amy was vaguely aware that her sister had replied to her, and was waiting for her to answer.

Aren't you going to talk to her?

What? What did she say?

I thought you were listening.

No. No, I was not.

"Uh, sorry," she heard herself say. "I was kind of distracted."

"I'll say you are, Ames," Vicky told her. "I was thinking we call in sick from school and go straight home. You look like you need about a week of bed rest."

Amy felt herself nodding. "Yeah, that's a really good idea. I'm not feeling the greatest."

Vicky frowned. "Maybe you should go to the hospital?"

"Uh, no," she replied. "Just a lie down should do me the world of good."

Glory Girl nodded. "Yeah, me too. And once you feel better, maybe you can do something about these insect bites. They sting like crazy."

Mentally, Amy bit her lip. Oh, Vicky …

She 'heard' Michael Allen – whoever that was – sigh. I offered to heal her.

She felt Vicky gather her up, and they lifted into the air, the wind whistling through her hair.

And if I showed you how to turn on my powers, you'd have access to them then.

You can trust me. Seriously. I'm not going to misuse your powers.

Sorry, I need more assurance than that.

Her body rolled its eyes. And how exactly am I supposed to give you proof?

That's not my problem.

You're right. It's our problem. And it will continue being our problem until you learn to cooperate with me. Oh, and one other thing.

What?

I know about you being in love with Vicky. That ends now.

A frozen lump encased her heart. What?

You heard me. In any case, it's not you. It's her. She used that damn aura of hers once too often on you, when she first got her powers.

I – that can't be -

Abruptly, her body went limp, every muscle relaxing. Instinctively, she tried to assert control again.

Nothing.

Allen took over again, turning her head toward Vicky, who was looking at her with concern.

"Amy?" asked her sister. "What was that? You scared me."

She felt herself nodding. "I just … felt weak for a bit. If you can get me home, I'll try to rest."

The wind-rush increased. "Okay, Ames. Just hang on. I'll get you there."

Dammit, thought that might work.

What might work?

Giving you a shock, then letting go. See if you could regain control.

Well, it didn't work. She paused. Was that a lie, then? To shock me?

Nope. Truth, as far as I know.

It … it can't be.

Sure it can. Also, your stepmother is wrong.

… about?

You. You're not about to turn into a supervillain, just because your father is one.

What?

What what?

My father's a supervillain?

Well, duh. Why do you think Brandish has been down on you all your life? She thinks 'like father like daughter'. Which is utter bullshit.

Uh … is it?

Sure. My dad raises cattle. I'm a security guard. You know O'Hare Airport in Chicago?

Bewildered by the change of subject, she responded anyway. Uh, yes?

The guy it was named after, a flying ace in World War 2, his dad was the accountant for Al Capone. We do not grow up to be our parents.

I … I guess?

I don't guess. I know. Ah, we're coming in for a landing. This where you live?

What, something you don't know?

Oh, har har. Listen, once you have a bit of a camp -

A what?

A sleep, he replied patiently. Hopefully you'll be back in control. But I still need to talk to you about stuff.

What sort of stuff?

Saving the world.

Amy had no answer to that.

=/=

Vicky landed more or less on the front doorstep, and set Amy on her feet. She felt the stranger behind her eyes take control of her body; when Vicky opened the door, she watched herself step through and into the house.

She hadn't gone three paces when Carol was there, staring at the two of them.

"And what happened to you two?"

"There was a bank robbery, Mom," Vicky began. "Amy got hurt -"

"Not too badly, I see," Carol broke in. "I don't see any blood." She nodded to Vicky. "But what happened to you, Victoria?"

"Bug bites," mumbled Vicky. "Look, Amy's not feeling too good, so I was thinking she could have a shower and go to bed."

"And Amy hasn't healed you yet?" demanded Carol. "Why not?"

Because someone won't show me how.

Because I know what my powers could do if I wasn't careful with them. And I don't trust you to be careful.

Gee, thanks a lot.

Would you trust a total stranger with your powers?

"She's not feeling good, Mom," Vicky repeated. "She got hit in the head. They think she might have a mild concussion."

Carol stared at them for a long moment, then nodded curtly. "Go ahead. But I want to hear more about it, once you're both feeling better."

Vicky nodded, and put an arm around Amy's shoulders. "Come on, Ames, let's get you upstairs."

Her body paused as they reached the upstairs corridor.

Uh, which one's your room?

Why don't you figure it out for yourself?

A sigh. Amy, I'm on your side. Work with me, here.

She relented a little. Okay, second on the right.

Thanks.

His control over her body's movements wasn't perfect yet; either that, or the body itself was still a bit woozy from the hit to the head. In any case, she stumbled over the threshold of her room, where the carpet stuck up a bit. Immediately, Vicky was at her side, supporting her.

"Hey, are you all right?"

"Yeah," Amy heard herself say. "I'm fine. Just gonna lie down for a bit."

Oh god, please do not offer to help me get undressed.

What are you worried about? It's my body.

Oh god. You had to remind me. Okay, not getting undressed.

What, not ever?

Amy. You're a sixteen year old girl. I'm a forty-four year old man. I am not going to go there.

I have to shower sometime. And girls have hygiene needs too.

Fuck, I hope you have control back by the time we need to do that.

He honestly sounded worried; she took pity on him. So do I, Michael. So do I.

End of Part One