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For Vanessa, life after hospitalization had not continued much as it had beforehand. The panic that the pandemic sleep inspired had also wrought hell on Mr. Rae's poor heart. He, as well as John Jr, had visited their beloved girl everyday that she'd slumbered; and both of them were more deeply affected by what had happened than she was. It was in the nature of dreams to be elusive and Vanessa, who'd not been a conscious witness to the terror and hysteria that sunk its claws into the hearts of Destiny City's waking citizens, could only recall enough about her own slumber to imagine that it had been some sort of adventure.

She had been sorry, upon awakening, to realize that it wasn't true.

John Jr and Mr. Rae were relieved. They had attacked their girl with hugs, and John Jr had explained all about the sleeping disease through Vanessa's startled squeaks of protests and a muffled; "Mmmfwherthe- hell am I?"

Vanessa had listened, and Super Van's heart had thundered painfully in her chest at the news. She had been asleep an embarrassing amount of time. The criminals and bad guys that festered in Destiny City had been allowed to run free, unthreatened by the rumble of her skateboard against the pavement and the mighty swing of her crowbar. Super heroes didn't need beauty sleep!

Dismayed, ashamed of herself for being so weak, Vanessa had attempted to scramble out of her bed and then was promptly forced back down by a pair of strong hands. Then the questions had come, and the accusations. The yelling came later, because Mr. Rae was still too grateful to see her alive.

Vanessa had tried to lie, but it had been to no avail, and she'd only gotten herself into more trouble anyways. It was Super Van who'd been wheeled into the hospital, dressed in spandex and a cloak, and John Jr, frightened for her life, had spilled all of the beans. Mr. Rae was, understandably, furious.

Super Van's costume had been forcibly confiscated. Vanessa was forbidden from leaving the house unsupervised. Auntie Marianne had moved in.

Bossy, pushy and in charge; Auntie Marianne had turned their little apartment into a sort of army barracks. John Jr was always ordered to bathe and then sent to bed promptly. Vanessa, who still had not learned how to pick her battles, fought with her often. Not even Mr. Rae was immune to Auntie Marianne's tornado of a personality-- she had taken away his coffee. In their household, nobody was very happy.

It was by chance that Vanessa had found the unlikable plastic looking woman napping on the balcony that afternoon. Mr. Rae was at work. John Jr was studying. And so she'd snuck out of the apartment; tip-toed down the stairs and then ran like hell as far and as fast as she could.

There was a serious, uncharacteristically serene expression on her face as she jogged through the park; dressed in a generally modest pair of short shorts and a very old t-shirt. It was covered in splotches of paint.

The sight of Fallon, looking more than a little bit lost, made her pause. Theirs was a curious relationship. Actually, it was probably more accurate to call it a non-relationship; founded on adrenaline and disagreements and Fallon's distaste for Super Van. Vanessa, who could never resist a sad face, sat down beside her anyways and nudged her arm gently with an elbow.

"Hey," she said, looking rather exhausted, but otherwise comfortable on the bench.

Fallon posed complicated questions. They surprised Vanessa, who could not give an answer straight away, and only stared at the side of the other girl's face. Her golden eyes shone with a curiosity that was bright if it was not particularly intelligent, as well as concerned. Fallon had never been, as far as Vanessa could tell, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. She had watched many expressions pass over that face, but none of them had ever been particularly happy. At least, not as far as Vanessa was concerned.

Maybe she smiled for other people.

There was something about Fallon today that was unlike the irritable girl Vanessa was familiar with. The Fallon Vanessa knew liked to yell and be angry about stupid behaviour. This one was... lifeless in comparison. It frightened Vanessa a little bit.

"Sometimes I think that I might like to," Vanessa, who'd been searching for the 'right' answer, gave up in favour of honesty. It was easier. "There are things in the past that I am not proud of."

She was thinking of Hairy Pete. A despondent sigh whispered passed her lips, and she dug at the grass with the toe of her shoe. It was evident, from the way her forehead was crinkled, that she was thinking very hard.

Vanessa wanted to help Fallon to feel better, because she clearly needed to feel better.

"I make a lot of mistakes," she blurted out, truthfully, because she was not so foolish that she did not realize this. "I wish that I didn't."

Vanessa, so unlike Fallon, had never been capable of pushing out the noises that so unnerved the other girl. As silly and stupid as she sometimes was, Vanessa had never fooled herself into believing that a paradise of perfection existed. This was not because she was cynical, but rather because she reveled in the imperfection of the world. There was crime and there was suffering. There was chaos and there was terror. These were scars; blemishes upon the world that ought to have been healed, but had become permanent with transformation. As long as there were laws that could be broken, even though laws sometimes changed, there would be deviance. One could not exist without the other, and it was therein that Vanessa found her silver lining.

If there were no bad guys, there could be no heroes.

Golden eyes locked onto those magenta ones, and Vanessa could not help smiling at Fallon then. Here was a trace of the fighter she had come to know. Mr. Rae and Auntie Marianne had taken Super Van away, but Vanessa, who did know yet whether or not the towel had been thrown in for good, would not tell Fallon that. “Maybe,” she agreed softly, biting her lip, because she could not justify her reckless behavior with something stupid when Hairy Pete had sacrificed his life to save hers.

Vanessa had always known that this would be dangerous. It wasn't, however, until the death of her friend that Vanessa, struggling through her guilt and her grief, had realized the consequences her impulsive nature reaped upon her friends and family. It was selfish to make them suffer for loving her. This was not what Vanessa, who was really very selfless, intended and, perhaps, an unavoidable aftershock. Could Super Van live on now that the girl behind the sunglasses had recognized the value of the risks that she took? Vanessa didn't know.

Tough decisions were tough. If only she were stronger. If only she were invincible.

Fallon's eyes drifted back to the pavement, but Vanessa's stayed glued to her face. When the other girl turned, Vanessa could not resist. Her heart twanged painfully in her chest at the sound of that whisper, and she scooted closer, wrapped her arms around Fallon in a hug; squeezed her gently. This was something that Vanessa, who had spent years staying up with John Jr when he was scared of the dark, was very good at.

“I'm not sure,” she murmured, voice a gentle breath against Fallon's ear. When she pulled away, her hands found and held Fallon's in a grip that was supposed to be reassuring. “Destiny City hasn't been safe for a very long time. It always feels strange to me now.”

While prone to fits of rage and other passionate outbursts, Vanessa was also very capable of being sweet. She had grown up surrounded by hugs and familial kisses, and was not shy when it came to things such as affection. She had not expected Fallon to tense so, and was startled when the other girl jerked away. Something unintelligible flickered across her face, and then she sighed with understanding, and sat back against the bench.

"Sorry," she murmured softly, eyes flickering to the trees, and she meant it. Her cheeks were faintly pink with embarrassment. Vanessa forgot, sometimes, that not everyone was as comfortable with the physical world as she was. It had not been a very difficult lesson to learn, but it did not always prove easy to follow. Fallon had sounded almost frightened, and Vanessa's instinct had been to try and shield her.

"Well," the smile she shot at Fallon was wry, "I'm not technically allowed to be here."

Vanessa toyed thoughtfully with the hem of her shirt. "But, if nowhere is safe, then it does not matter where I am."

She had had a lot to think about, since the unintentional hand she had played in Hairy Pete's death, and since waking up in the hospital. Mr. Rae wanted Vanessa to set a better example for John Jr. He said that she ought to start at the library, with her grades, instead of with Super Van.

'Do you ever think, Vanessa?' He'd swelled with his fury and was, probably, the only person in the world who could cow her to silence. 'What about your little brother? He would follow you to hell, and sometimes I think that you will lead him there with your stupidity!'

The words had stung, but Vanessa had pushed Mr. Rae to desperation. He was right. For John Jr's sake, she had to be more careful.

"What are you doing here?" She turned her golden gaze on Fallon, and distracted herself with this question.

Vanessa didn't really care whether or not Fallon liked her, because she hadn't thought enough about it to really wonder. They had fought more than they had done anything else. It was an unavoidable consequence of their mutual tempers and contrasting dispositions. But Vanessa was just as compassionate as she was emotional. It was easy for her to forgive Fallon for being so… unfriendly.

'Don't you think?' This time, it was Fallon's voice and not her father's.

Vanessa inhaled sharply, and stared at the other girl when she turned.

"I am not afraid for myself," she admitted after a moment. Images of her family members, as well as Big Willy and Hairy Pete, flashed through her head like they were being pulled along on a track by a steam engine.

It was a little while before she spoke up again.

"My aunt's moved in with us, since I was in the hospital. Home… isn't exactly where I'd like to be right now." That wry smile was back.

"She nags me a lot," Vanessa elaborated softly, and her mouth was flapping, even if the voice that echoed out from between those lips was not especially chipper. "Its always something, you know? 'Vanessa wash the dishes. Vanessa, don't touch that. Vanessa, why don't you act more like a lady? Vanessa, don't stick your tongue out at me or I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap.'… I'd bite her if she tried."

This was mostly a lie, as well as a joke. Vanessa hadn't bitten anyone in years, and was not inclined to start anew with her ornery aunt's leathery hide.

That little smile, and the beginning of that laugh made Vanessa brighten. For a moment, she looked like she might laugh too, but it was a fleeting thing. Fallon's laughter was not contagious. Fallon's laughter was scarred. Vanessa's expression sobered at once, and she was almost wary as she watched the way the other girl examined her hands.

She listened quietly, and her cheeks burned red with shame for complaining about her aunt, who very probably meant well, even though Vanessa couldn't stand her. Living with Auntie Marianne meant too many rules, and not enough fun. Living with Auntie Marianne meant no Super Van, on top of having a constant reminder of the mother that she could barely remember. Vanessa had gotten very used to being the only woman in their home-- in Mrs. Rae's absence she had become a strange combination of mother, sister and daughter.

When she wasn't out saving lives and hunting bad guys, Vanessa was making sure that John Jr did his homework, and yelling at him not to talk with his mouth full of spaghetti, or scratching her head while he beat her at Jeopardy.

Auntie Marianne was trolling all over her turf. And Vanessa, who could not help feeling territorial, was helpless in the plastic face of her mother's domineering sister and incapable of doing anything drastic because it wasn't nice to back-talk your aunts.

She had lost Hairy Pete, and her mother. But she still had Big Willy, and her father, and John Jr. It was possible that, somewhere deep down, even Auntie Marianne loved her.

Vanessa knew that she was very fortunate. Other people suffered more than she did. This time, she had to admit that Fallon was right.

It surprised her when Fallon stood. Blinking, Vanessa watched her, and then paled a little at the things that she said. She opened her mouth to speak, and then hesitated obviously. Hesitated because she wasn't sure that this was the right thing to do.

"Wait," she said, because she couldn't not try, "Would you- would you like to go get some ice cream or something?"

Fallon sounded like she needed a friend. Vanessa, who believed whole-heartedly in paying it forward, shook her ankle and the change hidden inside her sock jingled audibly.

"My treat."

It wasn't that Vanessa wasn't hurt, because Fallon's words had stung, and her belly still churned uncomfortably with shame. But Vanessa did not know that Fallon had being trying to make her feel awful, and failed to recognize an attack. They had never been friends. This wasn't the first time Fallon had said something mean, and Vanessa was beginning to almost expect it. This was, however, one of the only times they had met where Super Van wasn't trying (no matter how unintentionally) to get them both killed.

It seemed to make a difference. Ice cream and gelato were harmless enough.

Vanessa sat quietly, and those golden eyes shone on Fallon with a mixture of curiosity and a little bit of surprise when she turned back around. She expected a rebuff, and was resigned to the probability of this while she waited for a response.

And then Fallon said 'okay' and, unlike her companion, Vanessa did smile. It was a gentle thing, a cautious echo of the brilliant grin that usually lit up her whole face, but not any less sincere. She left the bench, and fell into a leisurely stride alongside the other girl.

There was silence for a time.

"My hair used to be long," Vanessa spoke softly, suddenly, and pulled her fingers through her thick curls. "My mom liked to put it in braids, to keep it out of my face and stuff. I looked like her, back then."

This was difficult. Vanessa very rarely talked about her mother. She wasn't sure why she felt compelled to talk of these bittersweet memories with Fallon now, but talk of them she did.

"When John Jr was born…" Vanessa trailed off, and a sad sigh slipped passed her lips. "There was nobody left to make it pretty. So, it's short now."

In a fit of rage and grief, little Vanessa had destroyed the braids and most of her hair with a set of scissors. She'd nearly lost an eye. It was Auntie Marianne who'd taken her to the barber's the next day, because Mr. Rae hadn't been capable of much.

"Easier to take care of that way."

Bits of the truth had been left out, but Vanessa trusted Fallon to put most of the missing pieces together. This was a big deal. Vanessa was sharing a very vulnerable part of herself, and with someone who very possibly did not even like her. But she did it because Fallon had lost people too, and admitted as much.

Vanessa saw it as a sort of trade. Grief for grief. Pain for pain.