(TAYLOR HEBERT) CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Eventually, after the worst of the tears and the tight, desperate fear had faded, the house fell quiet once more. It was a good quiet, the kind that felt almost unreal after the day they both had endured. Her father still kept one arm around her shoulders long after he reasonably should have let go, but Taylor found that she did not mind at all. She was content to simply sit there beside him, grounded by his presence and the familiar comfort of home.

Even so, the unspoken question between them slowly grew too large to ignore.

Her dad shifted slightly, rubbing a hand over his face, and then looked at her with an expression that was gentle but undeniably curious. “So,” he said softly, “do you want to tell me what happened now?”

Taylor hesitated.

She had known this part was coming, of course. She had rehearsed it in her head again and again, trying to imagine how she would explain everything in a way that made sense. Even now, sitting safely in her living room with her father looking at her with nothing but concern and patience, it all sounded impossible. Ridiculous, even.

Still, he deserved to know the truth.

“I skipped school,” she began with a slight wince, deciding it was best to start at the beginning despite knowing how he would react to that. “I just… I was tired, and I didn’t want to deal with anything, so I wandered around the city for a while. Eventually I ended up in an abandoned building and fell asleep there.”

Her dad gave her a small look at that admission. But it was not as disapproving as she had expected, as she could still see the worry behind it. Even so, he did not interrupt her.

“When I woke up,” she continued, “I heard something crash into the nearby street, like a meteor or something. I went to check it out, and it turned out it wasn’t a meteor at all.”

She lifted her wrist slightly, drawing attention to the weird and bulky-looking device that had turned her entire life upside down. Her dad blinked in surprise as he noticed the watch for the first time because it wasn't exactly small or inconspicuous. 

“It was this,” she added.

He leaned forward, studying it with open curiosity and no small amount of wariness. “I heard some rumors about a watch on my way back,” he admitted, “but it sounded so outlandish that I didn’t really believe it.”

“Yeah,” Taylor replied with a faint, humorless smile. “Stupid me decided to go close and it attached itself to me.”

She took a deep breath and forced herself to continue before she could lose her nerve. “Turns out it can turn me into aliens. Actual, real aliens with different powers and abilities.”

The words really sounded outlandish out loud, and she half expected him to laugh or ask if she was joking, but he only nodded for her to go on, his expression serious and attentive.

“I met Armsmaster after that,” she obliged him. “He tried to help me figure out what the watch was and how it worked, and then the Simurgh showed up. We found out pretty quickly that she was after the watch, which meant she was after me.”

Her father stiffened beside her and sent her an alarmed look. “After you?”

Taylor nodded slowly. “Yes. We tried to get away, but she kept coming no matter what we did. Armsmaster got hurt, and I had to… I had to fight her.”

Saying it like that made the entire ordeal sound far simpler than it had actually been, as if it had not been the most terrifying experience of her life. 

“I didn’t really have a choice,” she added quietly. “It was either fight or let her kill us both.”

From there she told him the rest as best she could, stumbling over some parts and rushing through others, doing her best to explain things she barely understood herself. She described the realization that the watch would transform her into an alien best suited to handle the situation, and the strange confidence that had come with that knowledge. She told him about upgrading Armsmaster’s suit to heal him, about handing him off to Dragon so that she could face the Simurgh alone, and somehow, impossibly, driving the Endbringer away.

By the time she finished speaking, her throat was dry and her hands were shaking slightly in her lap. Her dad, on the other hand, stared at her as if he expected her face to provide some kind of explanation for what he had just heard. His own hands were clasped together tightly, his knuckles white.

“So that’s everything,” she concluded, letting out a long breath. “That’s why I wasn’t at the shelter, and why most, if not every hero and villain who showed up to fight the Simurgh knows who I am now.”

The house fell silent again, and for a few long seconds her dad simply continued to stare at her.

“That’s… a lot,” he finally said.

Taylor gave a weak, tired shrug. “I guess it is.”

He let out a short, incredulous laugh that held no real humor. “Taylor, that is more than most people go through in their entire lives.”

Was it?

She had been so focused on surviving, and then on getting back to her father, that she had not really allowed herself to really think about how everything she had just described had happened in a single day. One impossibly long day that had somehow managed to contain more terror and change than she ever would have thought possible. Thinking about it now, it felt less like reality and more like some strange fever dream.

“When you put it like that,” she admitted softly, “it really does sound like a lot.”

Her dad shook his head slowly. “You fought an Endbringer,” he murmured, half to himself. “My daughter fought an Endbringer and won.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Taylor repeated quietly.

“No,” he agreed. “I guess you didn’t.”

He reached over and squeezed her hand, his expression torn between awe and worry. “I’m proud of you,” he said after a moment. “Terrified beyond words, but proud.”

Those simple words warmed something deep inside her, and she managed a small smile in return.

They talked a little more after that, going over smaller details and things she had left out the first time around. He asked careful, thoughtful questions, and she answered as best she could. Eventually, though, the adrenaline that had carried her through the day began to run out.

It happened all at once.

In the middle of trying to explain what one of the alien forms had felt like, Taylor was interrupted by a yawn so wide it made her jaw ache. She blinked in surprise, suddenly aware of how heavy her eyelids felt.

Her dad noticed immediately. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to argue, but another yawn betrayed her.

The couch suddenly seemed far more comfortable than it had a moment ago.

“You are definitely not fine,” Danny said with a small, affectionate smile. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“I’m okay,” she insisted, even as she slumped a little against him, trying and failing to stifle yet another yawn.

He chuckled softly and tightened his arm around her shoulders. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, kiddo.”

Taylor meant to respond to that, to insist that she was not actually about to fall asleep on the couch like a child, but the words slipped away from her. Her head came to rest against his shoulder almost without her realizing it, and she found the warmth of his presence and the sound of his breathing strangely soothing.

She fought the exhaustion at first. She really did. There were still things to talk about and questions to answer and worries to sort through. But her body had reached the limit of what it could handle for one day, and no amount of stubborn determination was going to change that.

“I’m not tired,” she mumbled, though even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

“Of course you aren’t,” her dad replied gently.

“I’m just going to close my eyes for a second,” she added.

“Sure you are,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Her eyes slipped shut on their own.

“Taylor?” her dad asked quietly.

“I’m awake,” she lied.

He laughed again, the sound fond and familiar, and a moment later she felt him shifting beneath her. Strong arms slipped under her back and knees, lifting her with surprising ease.

Taylor made a faint, sleepy sound of protest, more out of reflex than anything else. “I can walk,” she murmured.

“Humor me,” he said simply.

It had been years since he had carried her like this. She was older now, taller and heavier, but he held her up all the same, just as he used to when she was little and had fallen asleep on long car rides. The familiarity of it wrapped around her like a blanket, and despite a small embarrassed part of her that knew she should feel childish, she was far too tired to care.

Instead she let herself relax into his hold, resting her head against his chest as he carried her through the house. She managed to stay awake just long enough to recognize the posters on her walls and the messy pile of clothes on her chair before he laid her gently onto the bed.

Her eyes were already closing when she felt the blankets pulled up around her.

“Get some rest,” her dad whispered.

She wanted to answer him, to say goodnight or tell him she loved him again, but the words would not come. Sleep was dragging her under too quickly for that.

The last thing she felt was the gentle press of his lips against her forehead and hot air as he told her that he loved her.

Then the world finally gave way to a peaceful, dreamless sleep.