For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like a stranger when I looked in the mirror. My face was still my face, pockmarked, freckled, 4/10 on a good day and I hadn't had many of those lately; at least I didn't feel weird about it anymore. I shivered as I rinsed my hands, then headed back to my room to change.

  I wasn't back on full-time duties yet, but I still got into my costume. Today was going to be about catch-up, filling out paperwork, briefings on the city. Boring, probably, but vital since I literally had no idea what was going on outside the stretch of hall between the elevator and Dr. Yamada's office. I wasn't looking forward to finding out but...well, that was my job.

  “Amaranth, hey,” Kid Win greeted me as I left my room.

  “What's up?” I asked, cocking my head. “Just heading up to a meeting room for a check in.”

  “Cool, cool, I won't keep you.” He shuffled his feet for a second. “Uh, how are you doing?”

  “I'm...feeling a lot better,” I replied honestly, scratching the back of my head. “Yeah, just doing okayish. You?”

  “Tired,” he said with a shrug. “Busy. Never a dull moment in Brockton Bay, right?”

  “Too right,” I scoffed. “Anyway, I'm gonna get up there before I cause any more trouble. See you around, Win.”

  “See you Amaranth.”

  I got in the elevator and headed up, sighing as I rested my head against the back wall. I still wasn't sleeping well, but I was pretty sure none of us were; not after the Nine, sure as hell not after Echidna. I was trying to follow Dean's recommendation of not using the other Amy's memories for a while, even though Dr. Yamada wanted me working through them. I would but...I just had to be me.

  For now, that meant keeping my head down and being a good little trooper. Fine by me, now that I didn't have to try and adhere to her weird aversion to working for the good guys. I let out a long sigh and forced myself to move as the doors opened. Dr. Yamada said there would probably be some confusion for...well, she didn't actually give me a time frame. Something about not wanting to pressure my progress or whatever. Hopefully it wouldn't last too long, but it was my fault anyway.

  I knocked on the door of the room I'd been ordered to, double-checking that my mask and hood were in place. I still couldn't believe I'd been so stupid yesterday, going to Amy's quarters without covering up. Sure I'd been exhausted from therapy and distracted thinking of the awkward conversation coming, but that was no excuse.

  “Come in,” Miss Militia said when she opened the door. “Have a seat.” All business, great.

  “Where's Miss Stanford?” I asked, barely recalling my YGA's name. Not like she'd been around...

  “She'll be joining us shortly,” she replied. “I thought we might have a discussion before.” Oh, duh.

  “Okay,” I said with a shrug. “So, what am I allowed to actually tell her?” Miss Militia blinked twice.

  “She'll want to know how you have been,” she said evenly. “There are recent events that have been classified and unfortunately--”

  “Nothing about my nomination, Amy, or Echidna, cool.” I cut her off. “Can we just cut the crap? I'll tell her that I've been having a hard time but I've recently done mandated therapy and am fit for duty. Anything else?”

  “Amaranth are you feeling alright?”

  “Better than any day ending in 'y' this last month,” I snapped, then sighed. “Sorry I'm...touchy. I am okay though, or at least better.”

  “I'm glad to hear,” Miss Militia said with a nod. “You're right about Echidna being classified, so please do not discuss those events. That the Nine were here is public knowledge, and you may speak about how you were affected, though please avoid specifics.”

  “Sure, whatever.” I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Like, I don't really know what's going to happen, she'll come in here and--”

  “Apologies for being late,” Miss Stanford said, entering the room and hastily sitting next to me. “Would you believe there's traffic in this city somehow?”

  “Well yeah,” I said. “Evacuees.” There was a moment of awkward silence.

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  “Right, well.” Stanford cleared her throat and tried her best to ignore me. “Miss Militia, you're here for the PRT?”

  “I am,” she replied, pushing a stack of papers towards the Youth Guard woman. “These are wellness reports from her mandated therapy clearing her for duty, signed by Amaranth, her doctor, and the director. I can assure you we're caring for her as best as circumstances allow.” Stanford hummed thoughtfully as she took a look through the files.

  “For what it's worth, she's right,” I added. “Like...I caused a lot of trouble, you know? Well, I guess you do since you were there for the probation stuff.”

  “And that is going well?” she asked, still scanning the documents.

  “It's fine,” I answered. “Like, I think everyone's just happy to have me around at all, no matter what bullshit I gave them. And the old captain got me off-duty for a couple weeks of intense therapy so like, I can't really say they're treating me bad or anything.” A beat.

  “Intense therapy?” Stanford asked coldly, glaring at Miss Militia. “And why--”

  “My fault,” I said quickly, getting a wide-eyed look of surprise from both women. “Well, not exactly but...I snapped, okay? I...I relived my trigger event and--” I took a shuddering breath and shook my head to clear it. “I needed help, they gave it to me, okay?” I wanted this topic dropped ASAP.

  “And how--”

  “Don't,” I snapped. “Look I'm doing okay, really. I'm making friends, going to therapy, behaving, it's all good.” She looked between me and Miss Militia, then sighed.

  “Miss Militia I'm afraid I need to invoke privilege,” Stanford said, her tone flat.

  “Come now Viola, you heard--”

  “I did,” she cut Miss Militia off. “And I need to hear it without her commander in the room.” The staring contest continued for a moment, then Miss Militia silently rose and left the room.

  “You didn't need to do that,” I said when the door clicked shut. “She's telling you the truth, and so am I.” She sighed again.

  “I'm concerned the Wards may not be a good environment for you,” Stanford said after a moment. “If it's causing you to need that much help with your mental health...”

  “It's not,” I countered. “I told you it was me, not them. They helped me put the pieces back together.”

  “Would it have happened if you weren't a Ward?”

  “With the way the city is? I think I could have done a lot worse.”

  “That's not what I asked.”

  “Look, I...” I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. “Yeah, yeah it would have happened anyway. It was something from before I joined so just like, forget it. I did my therapy, talked enough, so can you just trust that for once in my career I'm actually telling the truth?” My cheeks burned as I stared down at the table.

  “It's not that I don't trust you, Amaranth,” Stanford said gently. “My duty is to look out for your well-being, and when I hear that the Wards made you relive your trigger I get concerned.”

  “It wasn't the Wards it was just a bad guy,” I countered. “Even if I hadn't joined, I'd have still fought so...yeah, I'd probably be a lot worse off with the support.” She shut her eyes and nodded.

  “I understand the need for some secrecy, given certain rumours.” I winced. “But please try to consider your wording. The Protectorate isn't the only group suffering from what's going on.” I cocked my head.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Like, I know what got said, sort of, but why would you guys get blamed for it?”

  “Whose purview did Weld's well-being fall under?” she asked in reply. “Or any of the other vulnerable Case 53s? To say nothing of how the Wards themselves feel, finding out their peers and mentors are--” She cut herself off with a huff. “Things are...complicated, Amaranth. We cannot afford to be jumping at shadows right now.”

  “I...okay.” It wasn't worth the fight, had to let it go. “But it's fine, really. Can we just...stop talking about it?”

  “Alright.” Stanford turned and knocked on the door. A moment later, Miss Militia came back and sat down. “I'll sign off and get out of your hair. Next time a Ward gets referred for therapy, try and remember to submit the right reports.”

  “Is that all?” I couldn't help but hear the note of sarcasm in her reply. “Very well. As always, we appreciate you checking in on the Wards.”

  “It's my job,” Stanford replied simply, rising and putting the reports in her briefcase. “Oh, she'll be attending make-up classes correct?”

  “All the Wards will,” Miss Militia confirmed. “Just like before, though emergencies...”

  “I understand,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Try to minimize those, would you?”

  After she left, Miss Militia had me sign a few forms for school. Apparently, despite the desperate state of the city, they decided classes were just fine to go forward. Screwed up maybe, but I guess it was nice I wouldn't have to repeat eleventh grade. I was sick of high school as it was. Maybe it would be better now that I had at least one friend I could hang out with, without things being weird.

  “What next?” I asked once I'd finished. “Briefing? Training?”

  “Lunch,” Miss Militia replied, rising from her seat. “After that you'll have a briefing regarding the state of current threats and new rules of engagement.”

  “I'm assuming Skitter and her little fffriends.” I narrowly avoided saying something much worse. “Plus whatever's left of the Empire.” She just shook her head.

  “Go eat,” she said. “Take a break, you're on light duties.”

  “Miss Militia I'm fi--”

  “Amaranth, slow down.” Her tone was firm, but not unkind. “I know things have been...hectic, but please rest while you can. I'd rather you be as fit as you can before you're back in the field.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling small. I got out of my seat and stood by the door. “Anything else, ma'am?”

  “I'll see you later,” she said, waving a hand.

  I headed out and back to the elevator, back to my quarters. Something was wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Or maybe it was just the lack of a crises. Miss Militia was right, things had been insane lately. Barely a day went by without one disaster or another, so feeling like the other shoe was going to drop, yeah it made sense. Dr. Yamada would tell me to let it go so...I would.

  At least, I'd give it a try.