Super?

Epilogue

        There's a single golden-colored key, the edges rough and worn in my hand. It's not much, this key, but it's mine.
       Insert it into the doorknob. Hear that satisfying click. Open the door. You're home. For the first time, you're home.
       Daisy-printed wallpaper and white shag carpet. An overstuffed armchair and a faded yellow couch overlooking a view of the city. No TV. Small bedroom- small bed. Bare walls speckled with sticky tac residue.
       "It's a little small," Taylor tells me apologetically, coming up behind me as I stare out the bedroom window. "But the landlord is a friend of mine- he's agreed to let you stay here for free, given that you keep on with your little hero business. He's a big fan," she explains.
       "It's perfect," I say. And it is. I look down at the city from our little spot on the 12th floor. Cars race past in blurs of blue and silver and white. Crowds of pedestrians wander the sidewalks, clutching purses and messes of shopping bags, adorning ridiculously large sunglasses like the ones I used to wear despite the fact that this morning is cloudy and the sun is still hiding. This is Birchwood City. For most, it is a city to escape to, not to escape from. For me, it is my frenemy.
       "Is that all you brought?" She gestures at the black duffel bag I've deposited onto a dinged-up cherrywood coffee table. It's stocked with the meager amount of clothes I've gathered over my stay at Ollie and Dave's. They kept trying to shove various objects at me- even going as far as to trying to get me to take their coffeemaker, but I refused.      They've already given me so much. They were only satisfied when I told them that I would get a day job somewhere and get a salary to help pay for everyday household objects. There's a Help Wanted at Walmart. I think I might apply to become a cashier. Wouldn't that be something? An ex-super-villain helping bag groceries for a little old lady.
        "I don't need much to get by," I reply honestly. Her arms are dancing with that now-familiar glow. It hasn't stopped ever since we rescued her from Ivory and she snapped out of the trance Elixir put her in. I don't even know if she realizes that she's doing it. "Where's Dominic?"
        "He's at school. I hired some security to keep the reporters at bay, but hopefully it won't affect his learning. He's a smart boy- I think he can go places. Go into college. Be something other than a theater major like his mother," Taylor explains with a humorless little chuckle.
      "You're a good mom," I tell her. I hope I don't sound like I'm trying too hard. I still find it too good to be true that she's forgiven me for everything that I've done in the past. If I her, I would have long ago smothered me to death in my sleep. I wouldn't even blame her.
        "Some mom I am. I let my son get kidnapped twice. I let him "die" because I just wanted to please-" her voice stops and she looks down at the floor with what looks like shame reflected in her face.
       "Please who?" Her face twists like it's in pain. "It's ok if you don't want to talk about it..."
       "I had some publicists, back when I was Crimson. They were the advocates for that thing I called a costume. I didn't want to, but it kept me popular. It was my signature, I suppose. After you sent that random video- I wanted to out myself to the public as having an affair with Ivory, but the publicists wouldn't let me. They were convinced that you were only bluffing and that I could save Dominic before anything happened to him. After I saw his death on television... I got rid of them." She runs her hand along the top cushion of the battered yellow couch, an absent expression on her face. The glow from her arms twists its way to her fingers, and I pray to God that she doesn't set my apartment on fire.
       "Hey. We all do stupid things for an image," I assure her. "I mean, look at me. I was a super-villain named after the Greek goddess of chaos. All things considered, you're still a perfect goody-two-shoes compared to the rest of us. And Dominic's alive. Nothing really happened to him. He thinks the news headlines with his name featured on them are exciting, for God's sake. He's still the same little six year-old psychologist professor that he always was." Taylor laughs for real this time.
       "He did that to you, to?" She gives me a warm, honest smile, and the glow in her fingers dims the smallest amount. "He's always trying to convince me of my inner demons. I think he watches too much TV."
        "I think you're right," I grin back. Our little sappy joyful moment is interrupted by a hesitant knocking at the front door behind us. I hesitantly make my way over to the door and stand on my tippy-toes to peer through the peephole. Please tell me the reporters didn't follow us all the way here. But it's not some hawkish little lady standing there- it's Dave's face.
       "Dave!" I throw the door open and wrap my arms around his neck. I haven't seen him much in the few days since the battle, what with my making amends with Taylor and Dominic and psychical therapy and trying to find a place to stay.
       "Watch the snake!" He laughs and hugs me back with one arm. He steps back and holds up Delores's travel carrier with his other hand.
        "Oh my God! You're the best." I crouch down and stick a finger through one of the slats in the plastic. Delores runs her head against my fingertip like she's a cat trying to be petted. Ollie eyes curiously from his spot behind Dave.
        "What am I? Chopped liver?" he jokes. "The snake gets more love than I do. I made you pancakes." He sticks his lower lip out in a pout until I abandon Delores to give him a warm, heartfelt hug.
        "I can't believe you came. Don't you two have work?" I step back and grab Delores's pet carrier from Dave's grasp, waving them inside with my other hand. They all crowd into my tiny apartment, nodding greetings to Taylor.
      "It's a special occasion. Our little fledgling has taken flight!" Ollie gushes. He spins out in a circle with his arms outstretched, almost knocking down a fish-shaped lamp in his excitement.
       "You do realize I lived alone for, like, the last five years before I met you, right?" Ollie takes no heed, just keeps grinning like the happy fanboy that he is.
       "How's the stomach?" Dave inquires, paying no attention to his overenthusiastic boyfriend.
       I set Delores's carrier down on top of the tiny vinyl-topped island in the room that masquerades as a kitchen. 
       "Pretty good. I don't have to scream every time I bend down to grab something off the floor anymore," I say cheerfully. Dave suddenly starts beaming like a complete idiot. It must be something in the air.
       "God, I'm so proud of you," he exclaims. "When you came to us, you were like, this super-scary messed-up person, and now you're... like only 25% messed-up."
       "Thanks, Dave," I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes but smiling all the same. An obnoxious ringing sound fills the air, and my eyes drift over to where my black duffel bag is lying on the coffee table. Ollie zips it open and fishes my new crappy flip-phone from inside. He hands it to me. The caller ID isn't a number I recognize.
       "Hello?" Taylor, Ollie, and Dave all watch with anticipation as I speak.
       "Hey. Is this Maya?" It takes me a moment, but eventually I recognize the voice. It's only my most favorite Robin-Hood-themed mercenary ever. (Because there are totally more than one.)
       "I thought you were dead!" I exclaim. "Why the hell did you leave like that?" He laughs a little.
       "Sorry. It wasn't exactly my choice- sometimes teleporting has a mind of its own. Saved my life, though. What's up?"
       "How did you even get this number? I bought this phone yesterday." He doesn't answer, but then again I didn't really expect him to. He's Bloodhound. What can I say?
       "If you open the door, we can talk some more." He then proceeds to hang up. I drop the phone on the counter beside Delores's cage, completely befuddled. There's another knock at my door.
       "You must be pretty popular," Taylor comments, an eyebrow raised. She tucks a wild strand of brown curls behind her ear. I inhale deeply and open the door. Sure enough, he's standing on the other side- but he's not in costume. He has on a simple pale blue shirt and some expensive-looking jeans that make me wonder what exactly he does as a mercenary.
        "Sorry to interrupt like this. I just had to make sure-" he stops when he sees Taylor standing behind me. His icy eyes widen and his mouth hangs open like he's a fish out of water, gasping for air but drawing in nothing.
       "Weren't you... kind of dead?" Taylor inquires, completely oblivious to the fact that he's frozen in place like someone pressed pause on him only.
       "You're ok," he finally stammers. His tan face instantly becomes blotchy like someone painted his face a cheery shade of red. He takes a step back and in one fluid motion, turns and flees right back out the door that he came in.
        "What was that about?" Taylor demands a speechless second after the door slams shut behind him.
       "How the hell did he get my apartment number?" I want to know. Ollie and Dave start to laugh simultaneously.
       "He's in love with you, in case you didn't notice," Dave tells Taylor cheekily. Her amber eyes widen in astonishment.
       "This is great. Can I make popcorn?" Ollie asks me. I shush him with a flapping of my hand.
       "I'm sorry. He's a little... weird. If he shows up at your front door with a bouquet of flowers and a crossbow with your name engraved into it, please don't blame me." Much to my surprise, Taylor starts to smile.
       "He's kind of cute," she says mischievously, eyes glittering. The glow under her skin brightens, but it seems less like something menacing and more like a friendly warmth this time.
       "Good luck with that," I say, making a face. "Let me guess, now Sebastian and Tate are going to show up. We can have a little party of the weirdest people in this city."
       "How is Sebastian anyway? Is he trying to get you to fall madly in love with him?" Ollie smirks. "What would your ship name be? Sebaya? Mayastian? Possibilities are endless."
       "Ollie. No. Just no. He asked me 'and I told him to kindly go to hell and burn in eternal flames."
       "But he helped you, didn't he?" Dave asks. I give him a withering, wordless look as way of reply. "Forget I even asked," he says and throws his hands up in defeat.
       "I don't need a love interest, thanks. My life is crazy enough without one." I look at Taylor and shake my head slowly in disapproval. She just smirks.
      "I want to thank you guys again," I say and look back at Dave and Ollie. Delores hisses in approval. "For everything. Seriously. Words can not explain how thankful I am to you."
       "Oh, no biggie. We just turned a super-villain into a superhero. Just another Monday," Ollie says with a melodramatic sigh. Dave grins and slings an arm over his blonde boyfriend's shoulders.
       "We only kept you around because you made life more interesting," Dave explains with deadpan.
       "I love you too." This time, there is no sarcasm. "Now can you guys get married already? I've been waiting for this big splashy proposal but it never happens... You've both made it clear you're basically soul mates so let's make it official. I want to be your guys' bridesmaid so badly."
       "Well, I mean, if you insist," Ollie says with a shrug. My mouth drops open and Dave's eyes widen in slow motion as Ollie casually gets down on one knee and takes a ring box from his back pocket. Holy--
       "Hey, boyfriend of literally way too many years. How about you say we get married so Maya can stop dropping her not-so-subtle hints?"
      "I thought you'd never ask." Eyes shining. A smile so big it overtakes his face completely. They embrace each other and fit like they're two matching puzzle pieces.
       I die of happiness. I'm home.
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A/N: Tada! :)