Entanglement

Part Two: Confusion Intensifies

Earth
Taylor (Terra)

I didn't know what was going on. I was barely aware of where I was. The memories of where I had been would not go away; if I fell asleep I would wake up, screaming and choking and trying to escape once more. Worse, while I was awake, I was assailed by strange noises, bombarded by lights and moving images behind my eyelids.

It would have at least helped if the images made sense. But they were fuzzy, blurry and downright incomprehensible. Nor was it in the least bit helpful that I occasionally got the feeling that I was in ten thousand places at once.

My mind was one of the last places that I held sacrosanct. There was no other place that I could be at peace. With the school faculty ignoring whatever the principal's daughter did, she could bully me at her leisure, so there was nowhere in the school I could go and be safe. At home, I was away from Emma, but there was the situation with the Russells to deal with as well. Which I suspected that I was handling badly. So that was a no-show.

And now even my mind was going. I was losing it. In my lucid moments, I decided that I had to be going insane (or had already done so) because sane people did not see and hear things that weren't there.

It didn't help, of course, that the sedatives I was still on didn't help me think clearly enough to work at simply ignoring or repressing the strange impressions that I was getting. I was awake, but I was fuzzy-headed enough to not be able to think clearly.

Dad was there. He held my hand. I tried to squeeze it back. That, at least, helped. A little, anyway. But then I drifted a bit, and when I could focus again, he was gone. Hot tears squeezed between my eyelids. I was becoming more awake, more aware. If I had just been able to talk more coherently, I could have told him about what was going on inside my head. We could have worked it out. I was old enough to know that Dad couldn't magically fix everything, but he could certainly help.

At least he got them to take those damn restraints off of me.

I lay there, trying to ignore the flashes of light (dimming now, for some reason) and the odd noises. Sleep was hard to come by; not that I wanted to sleep, what with the nightmares. I drifted, slipping in and out of a vague level of unrestful slumber.

And then, in the early evening, I woke up.

Terra
Taylor (Earth)

"Where's Agent Wallis?" I asked.

"He'll be coming around to the house to talk to you later in the week," Dad told me. "Do you need a hand getting changed?"

I snorted. "I've been in the hospital for two days, Dad. Not two years. Gimme clothes and privacy, and I'm good."

He smiled at my retort and retreated from the room; the door closed behind him. I sat up in bed and swung my legs over the side. The floor felt strange under my feet, the way it always does when you spend too long lying down. I felt weaker too; that was probably an after-effect of whatever drugs they had me on to get me through the trauma.

I smiled wryly. As bad as the locker had been – and it had been bad enough – if it finally helped get Emma and the other bitches off of my back, it might just have been worth it. In the long run. Maybe.

I had made good use of my time – and the TV in the room – while Dad was away. The nurses had been kind enough to supply me with all the magazines that they could pile on to my bedside table. I had devoured the lot, with the TV playing in the background.

Gradually, piece by piece, I had assembled a picture of the world I now found myself in. There was no Scion; in fact, there were no capes at all. That was the biggest shock. Capes had been around for thirty years, give or take. Longer than I'd been alive. They were a fact. They were a thing. Remove them from history and things were … different.

Fortunately, there were also no Endbringers. Which raised a speculation in my mind. Capes and Endbringers are connected in some way. Did capes somehow cause them? There was no way to tell.

No capes, no cape shenanigans, no Endbringers, meant that the world was a very different place. Switzerland was still there. I had come across an article on the Large Hadron Collider, and it was amazing. For all that this world had no Tinkers, the fact that they still managed to build something like that was kind of astonishing.

Of course, in Earth Bet, something like that would probably be used to engrave someone's name on the moon, as opposed to pure scientific research.

On the other hand, it was also disheartening to see that bad things still happened in the world. Kyushu was still there; so was Newfoundland (I checked). But since Nine-Eleven (I still didn't have all the details on that, or the Patriot Act) we were apparently at war. With the Middle East. (Which, absent Behemoth, was still producing oil. So there was that too.)

It shouldn't have been so depressing, but I'd had this idea in the back of my head that supervillains and Endbringers were responsible for most of the bad stuff in the world. The Nine, for instance; they killed towns. Endbringers destroyed cities. But even without them, people still stole stuff and murdered each other. And gay rights were stuck in the stone age; America was still squabbling about whether to allow gay people to marry each other, for crying out loud.

So, there was no Protectorate, and no PRT to oversee it. No Birdcage for the really bad villains. On the upside, no S-class threats. I found an article on the President, and had to smile. Wouldn't the Empire Eighty-Eight throw a shit fit over that one. I wished him all the luck. He didn't seem to have an easy job, even in a world where powers didn't exist.

I couldn't wait to sit down at a computer and really sink my teeth into the background of this world; if I was going to appear sane enough to testify in court, I had to look like I knew what was going on. This was my one big chance to get Emma and Sophia and Madison – even if they weren't my Emma and Sophia and Madison – out of my hair, and I was gonna grab it with both hands.

It took me a little longer than I expected, but I got myself dressed; I even managed to bend over to put my shoes on without fainting, though I did feel a little woozy.

Maybe I can talk Dad into swinging by Fugly Bob's for a burger on the way home. If there is a Fugly Bob's in this world.

I hoped there was; it would be one more connection to where I had come from. Not that I was sure how I would ever get back.

It must have been the wooziness that triggered the idea; I was halfway through putting the other shoe on when it struck me. Holy shit, what if I can?

Straightening up, I worked the idea through, excitement mounting inside me.

Fact one: I was in another world.

Fact two: I had gotten here from the locker (I ruthlessly stilled the internal quiver that even thinking about it gave me).

Surmise: What if I had somehow gotten powers in the locker, and the power was to step between universes?

I mean, this obviously wasn't Earth Aleph, but it could be another one. Well, it was another one. Obviously. But what if my power was to move from one universe to another? Either swapping with the 'me' that was there, or stepping into her body?

Slowly, I sat down on the chair. Either of those options had unpleasant connotations for the other 'me', the one that belonged in this world. She had either popped up in my world without any sort of warning (and wouldn't that be fun for her) or I was walking her body around like a puppet.

Oh, god. I hope she's still alive.

I've got to try to switch back.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated. I knew exactly where I wanted to be; in my world, where I knew what was going on. Be it ever so crappy, there's no place like home.

I breathed in. Concentrated. Breathed out. Concentrated.

Nothing happened.

I tried harder, holding my breath and pushing.

Absolutely nothing happened.

Crap.

Does this mean I can't do it, or does it mean something worse?

I was just preparing myself to try yet again when there came a knock on the door. "Taylor? You okay in there?"

I sighed and shot a betrayed look at my worn sneakers. I bet that would have worked if those were ruby slippers. "Yeah, Dad," I called out, standing up from the chair. "I'm good to go."

With a deep breath, I did my best to put the other-Taylor's potential plight out of my mind until I could do something about it. If ever.

On the way home, Dad and I chatted. I tried not to gawk too much at the scenery, but it was difficult. There was so much there that was familiar, but so much more was different. And it wasn't just missing landmarks, either; the city looked newer, more prosperous. And no gang tags. Intellectually, I knew that there weren't any cape-led gangs, so they'd be a lot more low-key, but it was still a jolt.

"So … are you feeling better … from yesterday?" he probed delicately.

I smiled at him. "Yeah, lots. Sorry for my outburst. I must've sounded like a total loon. It's all my fault, really."

"Really?" he asked. "How so?"

I manufactured a sigh. I can't tell him the truth, so here goes. "I kind of constructed a world inside my head. Being bullied, you want to be strong, you know? So I made up a world where superheroes existed and all that comic-book stuff is real. Where I could be a superhero and beat up my bullies. I put a lot of work into it, got all the details down. So when … well, when that thing happened, I must have retreated into my superhero fantasy world, to get away from what was really happening to me. And yesterday, I wasn't really firing on all cylinders, so I guess I went with what seemed real at the time." I paused. "Does that make sense?"

"Huh." He sounded relieved. "So you are feeling better, then."

I shrugged. "Well, it's not totally gone. But I'm working at it. I intend to live in the real world from now on." Oh, I so wish.

"Glad to hear it." His smile made him look at least ten years younger. "So when Agent Wallis drops over, do you think you'll be able to give him details?"

"Oh, sure," I agreed, but inside I was less certain. I hope the 'me' who lives here has also been keeping a journal. Otherwise it's gonna be an uphill drag. Especially if the bitches who live here have been doing things differently from the ones that I know.

"You know," he offered diffidently, "maybe you shouldn't just forget your fantasy world. Write it down. Maybe you can make a book or something out of it. I know I'd read it."

"I guess," I replied. "Though I still haven't worked out any sort of plot. It's kind of haphazard, to be honest."

"It was just a thought," he said. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. The indictment came through."

"Indictment?" I asked. What indictment?

"Oh, sorry, sorry." He shook his head self-deprecatingly. "You've been under a lot of strain. Theo's dad is going to trial. Finally."

"Oh. Right." Frantically, I wondered who the hell Theo was, and what his dad was being tried for. I vaguely recalled that 'indictments' were something handed down by a grand jury, so whatever it was, it had to be bad. But Dad seemed pleased by it, so I manufactured a smile. "Excellent."

"Just don't bring it up unless he does, okay?" he suggested. "He might be a little sensitive on the subject."

"Sure, I can do that." Given that I didn't know who the hell Theo might be, that was an easy promise to make. "So, uh, what are they getting Theo's dad on, anyway?"

"RICO, of course." He shrugged. "I'm just glad that part of it's done. It's been hell on both of them."

Both of whom? This was frustrating; it was kind of like walking into a movie halfway through and not being able to ask anyone what was going on. "Well, yeah," I agreed non-committally.

That seemed to satisfy him. He leaned over and turned the radio on. I would rather have listened to the news – any information about this new world would be welcome – but the music was nice, too. Some of the songs were almost familiar, or maybe it was just that I hadn't heard them for a while.

"We're home."

I was jolted out of a light doze as the car turned into the driveway; I heard gravel crunching under the wheels. It surprised me that I had been able to drop off at all, considering the number of things that I had to think about. Of course, I wasn't at my best, so sleep was probably a good thing.

Opening my eyes and looking around, I was treated to another surprise. The house looked good. The lawn was newly mown, the flower garden recently weeded, and the house itself bore what looked like a fresh coat of paint. A really fresh coat of paint. In fact, it was still being painted.

I stared at the pudgy-looking kid – about my age, maybe – who was up on a ladder, industriously working a roller back and forth over the wall, and barely restrained myself from asking who's he?

Dad stopped the car and got out. "Nice work, son," he called out. "It looks really good."

I got out of the car as well, shading my eyes as I looked up at the wall. It was actually a rather pretty shade of blue.

"Thanks, Da- I mean, Mr Hebert," the kid replied, swiping the roller over a patch, then rolling it through the tray wedged into the top of the ladder.

Dad shook his head. "Theo, please call me Dad or Danny. If we're gonna be a family, I don't want you calling me 'Mr' Hebert."

This is Theo? Okay. I filed that information away. Gonna be a family. Right. His dad's been indicted by a grand jury for racketeering. Wow. And I thought this world was gonna be kinda boring.

"Taylor?"

I looked at Dad, who was staring anxiously at me. "Uh, yeah?"

"You can close the car door and come inside, you know."

With a start, I realised that I was still standing in the open door. Stepping back, I closed it; the car went bip-bip as Dad hit the key fob. Having a car that would electronically lock – that was new. As I started around the car, Dad stepped up to the ladder. "You can take a break now, Theo. Come on inside, too."

I walked over to the path and up to the front steps. As I was about to avoid the bottom step, I took a closer look and realised that it didn't look rotten any more. Cautiously resting my weight on it, I didn't even hear a creak. With an ever-increasing sense of unreality, I climbed the rest of the steps.

As I did so, I heard Dad talking quietly to Theo. "Now, I know you two haven't been getting along, but if you could do me a favour and let her be for the moment, please? She's been through a lot."

I didn't hear Theo's reply, as I opened the front door and stepped inside, but it made me wonder. Things were obviously different on the home front here in this world.

Inside, the house looked … nicer. It had a brighter feel to it. There was a sofa in the same place, even if it looked newer and softer than the one I was used to, and I flopped on to it. Even the short walk from the car had tired me out, just a bit.

Dad and Theo came in next; now that we were out of the glare of the sunlight, I could see that Theo was daubed here and there with blue paint. He pulled off the hat and sunglasses he had been wearing and wiped his face; I still didn't recognise him from anywhere. I tried to decide whether to make a friendly overture, or just leave things as they were. However, before I could make up my mind, Theo spoke.

"Hey, Taylor." His voice was soft and diffident. "I'm, uh, glad you're out of the hospital. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thanks," I replied. "It's good to be home." Weird, but good. Anywhere's better than being in the damn psych ward.

Even that mild answer put a smile on his face. Christ, how much of a bitch have I been to him? "Want something to drink?" he offered. "I made up some fruit punch this morning before I went to school. It should be nice and cold."

"Thanks," I said again. My guess was that Theo's mother was the other part of the equation, and 'gonna be a family' was a strong hint that she and Dad were an item. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about having other people in the house, but right now I didn't want any more difficulty in my life, so I was willing to let it slide. Even if it felt really weird to think about Dad being with someone other than Mom.

Theo brought me a glass of the punch, and I took a sip. It was tart and cold and sweet, and I drank more of it. Before I knew it, the glass was empty. "Thanks." I paused. "Uh, Theo?"

He'd been standing there, as if not sure to stay or go, and blinked when I said his name. "Uh, yeah?"

How do I say this? "Um, I might have been a little hard on you? But what's just happened, it's given me a bit of perspective. So can we make this a clean slate? Start fresh?"

"What, really?" He smiled tentatively. "You mean that?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean that. Friends?"

"Friends." He beamed at me and held out his hand, before realising that there was dried paint on it. "Uh …"

"Trust me," I told him dryly, "I've had worse." Leaning forward, I shook his hand, paint and all. "Thanks for giving me a second chance."

"No, uh, thank you," he blurted. "I mean, I know you're not too happy with all this, and I can kinda understand. I've had to deal with a new mom in my life too, so yeah."

"Which reminds me, Theo," Dad noted from the kitchen. "Your mom said to tell you she was working a little late with a client tonight. She should be in about six or seven. Want to help me with dinner?"

I felt a faint stab of jealousy at that; I was the one who helped Dad with dinner. Something must have shown on my face, because Theo gave me a slightly worried glance. "Um, Taylor, do you want to help too?"

I decided that right now, I didn't really feel up to it, so I leaned back on the sofa and shook my head. "Nah. Invalid, here. Think I'll be lazy and let you guys wait on me hand and foot."

That earned me a smile from Theo; he took the glass from me and headed into the kitchen. "I've just got to go and wash up first," he told Dad.

"That's fine," Dad replied. "I'll get started."

I was as good as my word; lying back on the couch, listening to Theo and Dad chatting as they prepared dinner, I began to slip in and out of a doze. It was good to be in relatively familiar surroundings, even with the strangeness that seemed to be a hallmark of this new world. And the couch was very comfortable.

After a while, I slid into a deeper sleep. And then I woke up.

Terra
Taylor (Terra)

I sat up on the couch with a gasp, eyes wide. Looking around wildly, I saw the familiar surroundings of the living room, all the little touches that Kayden had suggested which made the place look so much nicer. Ignoring the tiredness in my limbs, I jumped to my feet.

Had it all been a dream? The hospital, the weird stuff happening in my head? It was gone now, as if it had never been. "Dad?" I called out uncertainly. What if this is the dream?

"Taylor? What's up?" Dad's head popped around the kitchen door. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think so. I think I just had a really weird dream," I told him. "It was horrible. I got locked in my locker, and then I was in the hospital."

He grimaced. "Um, kiddo, that actually happened. You've been in the hospital for two days. I only got you home this afternoon."

I crossed the room and hugged him, hard. "I must've been really out to it. I only just now woke up."

He hugged me back. "Not really," he told me, his voice still concerned. "We were talking most of the way home. About this fantasy world you made up for yourself to get past the bullying."

Fantasy world? I had no idea what he was talking about. But then I saw Theo. Breaking free from Dad, I hugged him, too. Normally, I wouldn't have, but right then I was so glad to see anything familiar that I didn't care.

"It is so good to see you two," I told them. "Where's Kayden and Aster? I want to hug them, too."

"Uh, they'll be back soon," Dad said with a bemused grin. "I'm not quite sure what's caused your change of heart, but I'm glad to see it."

I shook my head. "I was just … I don't know. I guess I'd gotten used to the two of us, and I didn't see how more people could fit into our family. But after going through that, I think I need all the family I can get."

"Which reminds me," Dad replied. "I'm going to be arranging therapy sessions for you, until I can be sure that you're feeling better about the whole thing. But first, we're going to be talking with Agent Wallis about what's been happening to you."

Agent who? I yawned. "Um, sure, but right now I think I need to lie down. I feel really tired."

I wasn't faking it. The feeling of lassitude that swept over me was getting stronger by the second. I barely made it up the stairs, and when I got to my bedroom, I flaked out face down on the bed without even taking my shoes off.

Earth
Taylor (Earth)

I came awake with a jolt, staring around in some bewilderment. What the hell? Why am I back in the hospital?

It was like I'd never left; there were IVs in my arm as well as those round sticky sensor patches attaching me to the machine beside the bed. I couldn't understand it. But Dad took me home. Was that all a dream?

Then I saw the bedside table. It didn't even have one magazine on it, much less the dozen or more that the nurses had given me. All it held was a pencil and pad. Nor was there a TV in the room, where I clearly remembered there being one before.

Wait. What if …

Between managing the IVs and the cords, and my own weakness, it wasn't easy climbing out of bed, but I pulled it off. Leaning heavily on the IV tower thingy, I stumbled toward the window. The sensor patches pulled me up before I reached it, but I could grab the curtain. Pulling it back revealed evening falling over Brockton Bay, and the view of the bay itself.

And in the middle of the water … the Protectorate rig, encloaked in a glowing force field, casting its soft light over the waterfront. I felt a sudden release of tension; my knees buckled. If I hadn't already been leaning on the IV thing, I might have fallen over altogether.

I'm home. Oh, thank God, I'm home.

Which means other-Taylor is also home. She was sitting on the couch. She's good. That's good. We're all safe. All I have to do is tell Dad I'm all right, and I can go home.

Which was about the point that I noticed the oddity in the back of my mind. Occasional sounds and muted lights were popping in and out of my awareness. What the hell?

I had thought that swapping with an another-universe version of myself was my power. Wait, maybe this is my index. Maybe I can look in on other versions and pick which one to swap with.

Struggling back into bed, I closed my eyes and started trying to focus on the little points of light. But instead of looking into other worlds, or hearing conversations from other universes, all I got was weird fuzzy pictures, and jumbled sounds. Well, this is helpful.

Taking a deep breath, I focused harder. The images grew brighter and dimmer, more focused and fuzzier, without any rhyme nor reason to them. I wish they'd stop moving, I thought petulantly.

They stopped moving.

I felt a burst of surprise and excitement. I can tell them what to do? Okay … look around. Slowly.

Each viewpoint looked around. I zeroed in on what seemed to be the clearest one. At the same time, I got an idea of a location; a direction and a distance. It was a little outside the hospital. The area was lit, and I was looking at what seemed, after some consideration, to be a man. But from above, and upside down. I silently told the viewpoint to rotate; after a second or so, it did. I was looking down at a man standing at a bus stop. But the view was really fuzzy.

A few moments later, I realised that another viewpoint was also of the same man, from a different angle. I was still trying to figure this out – this has to be the crappiest clairvoyance I've ever heard of – when a feeling of extreme lassitude began to wash through me. Shit, I realised. We're swapping back.

I had just seconds to act. I had to leave other-Taylor a message. Snatching the pencil and pad, I scribbled a note, hoping that muscle memory would serve where lack of light let me down. By the time I had finished, I couldn't keep my eyes open; tearing off the sheet, I folded it roughly and shoved it down my top.

I never heard the pencil and pad hit the floor.

End of Part Three