Capes 'Verse: A Really Long Introduction to Almost Everything (3/3)
Part 2
~~
Mal rubs his head and tries to focus on whatever Professor Urahara is teaching today. It’s something about Utah and a beach, but Utah doesn’t have beaches, and they’re supposed to be on World War II or was it World War I? Mal doesn’t remember, but it’s not like being mind-controlled, it’s just-
“I would thank you not to fall asleep in my class, Mr. Donovan,” Professor Urahara says curtly and Mal knows he’s in for another talk with Coach Alexander. Like Mal doesn’t have enough problems what with the Yellow Flash slamming him into a wall twice last night and the entire team seeing him conked out on the couch for something as stupid as pissing off an ex-cape/villain/whatever the Yellow Flash counts as these days. Oh, and it really shouldn’t bother him so much that Brandon gets a kick out of how Evan is now avoiding Mal because- as Evan told Justice who mentioned it to Brandon who gleefully recounted it to Mal- he thinks Mal being bearable is freaky and the lead-up to some joke against Evan. Brandon pointedly did not mention that Mal’s been either listless or cranky when he isn’t Spectre or trying for nicer. Or that Mal was yawning during Coach Alexander’s team pep talk yesterday.
Something jabs Mal in the side; he turns and sees Evan going back to his notes. “Pay attention,” Evan orders sotto voce. He glances up at the board again. “This is on the test.”
“Oh, so you’ll talk to me now,” Mal grumbles and jots something down in the music composition book he uses for note-taking. No one else can understand the music notation Mal uses and he likes it that way. Note-taking would be easier if the lights weren’t so damn bright today.
Evan does not answer, and Mal tries to focus on the topic at hand. Judging by the twitch Professor Urahara’s eye is developing, Mal is failing, and miserably, like he has been doing for a while now. The bell rings for classes to change and Mal doesn’t even bother to get up from his seat. Evan gives him a weird look and opens his mouth to ask what’s up, but Professor Urahara is walking over in slow and measured steps that mean someone is getting expelled, so Evan beats a hasty retreat instead. Mal stands and fights the urge to lean against his desk. His head hurts a lot and he wishes he had stayed in bed this morning when Eth suggested it. “Professor.”
“Is there something the matter?” Professor Urahara asks unexpectedly.
Mal blinks. He had anticipated a reaming out for being inattentive again. “Huh?”
“Your grades are slipping, and not only in my class. You tripped in track practice this morning and nearly ran into your coach.”
“You watch track practice?” Mal is stalling; he has no idea how to rectify this situation and it’s only a matter of time before someone calls his dad, who will then call his mom, who will forcibly make him give up vigilantism until his grades are better. He can’t give up cape-work. It’s the only time lately he feels like himself.
Professor Urahara pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Donovan, I believe you to not be obtuse, and would appreciate that you operate under the same assumption about myself.”
“I didn’t mean to imply-”
“Regardless.” Professor Urahara peers down at Mal. “You are concussed. It would be in your best interests to accompany me to the nurse’s office so your father can come pick you up.”
Mal suppresses a groan. Forget what his mother will do, his dad is going to kill him for not realizing he’d been hurt worse than he thought. “Is that really necessary?”
“That depends on how soon you wish to be able to return to your extra-curricular activities.”
Time stops, or at least that’s how it feels to Mal. His teacher knows he’s a cape. Just how many people have figured it out? Brandon and Justice (because who else would be Libra if not Super-Smash Guy's best friend both in and out of the mask? The name is kind of a dead giveaway in hindsight, too) know because Mal was sloppy, Mage Hand knows because he puppeteered Mal for a month before anyone figured it out- “Mr. Donovan.”
He blinks and Professor Urahara appears almost concerned. “Maybe you’re right,” Mal manages and grabs his school bag. Faking normal never took as much energy as it does now. “A little rest makes everything better, right?”
“Coach Alexander expressed concern that you might not be well enough for the track meet this weekend,” the professor says as he leads the way down the hall and Mal almost falls over. Of course. Professor Urahara meant the track team. Mal’s cover is still intact. Right. Okay. He can work with this.
“So I guess you and Coach Alexander talk a lot,” Mal says as he walks alongside Professor Urahara. “He said you sent him after me last time.”
Professor Urahara pauses. “We are acquaintances, yes,” he allows, which in Urahara-speak means they’re pretty good friends. “Much in the way you and Mr. Horatio are acquainted, I expect.”
“…you two hated each other a lot and one of you got tired of it and the other got weirded out by the first one acting different?” That’s definitely not the vibe Mal had been getting from the two. Mal’s been trying, but Evan’s not giving him anything to work with, and Mal is this close to calling it quits and just following his mother around the world.
“We had a rocky start.” That is all Professor Urahara will say on the matter, and Mal lets it lie.
Professor Urahara leaves Mal with Nurse Aileen while he calls Mal’s dad. Evan peers into the office almost as soon as the nurse disappears on some errand or other. “Are you all right?” he asks and seems loathe to be in the room, keeping his feet in the hall and just leaning in. “You’ve been kind of weird all morning. I mean, you’ve been weird for over a month now, but weirder today.”
Mal grins wryly. “I managed to get concussed at some point. Apparently, two teachers noticed it and Urahara is now calling my dad.”
Evan winces in sympathy. Then there is a brush of telepathy against Mal’s mind.
Mal thinks back, ‘Yeah, just fine, Psy.’
“So you’re gonna be okay then,” Evan says.
The concussion is worse than Mal thought, because he answers without thinking, “Yeah, didn’t I just answer that question?”
Evan’s face goes blank. “That was the first time I asked you,” he says carefully, with a subtle emphasis on ‘you.’ He none-too-gently rattles Mal’s mental shields. Normally, this is not a problem. Normally, Mal does not have a concussion.
“Ow, shit, was that really necessary?” Mal gripes, clutching his head. “Geez, Evan, you have the subtlety of a freaking sledgehammer.”
Evan’s response is a little more proactive than Mal was expecting. “You knew I was Psyon?” he hisses as he stalks into the room. The door flies shut behind him. “Is that why you started acting so weird and being out on patrol with the others more often-”
“Surprisingly enough, not everything has to do with you,” Mal snaps because his head still really fucking hurts and he really does not need this right now. “I meant it when I said I was tired of who I’d been. I meant I liked being Spectre more than I liked being myself. That little epiphany happened weeks before I figured out who you were, which, by the way, was an accident.”
“Right, so I guess you thought it would be funny to just keep it to yourself.”
“Evan, are you sure you’re not the one with the concussion? Because you’re not making any sense. At all. What the hell use would it have been in telling you? I knew the second you knew both our real identities you’d be questioning my motivations.” Mal rubs his temples, hunching over on his cot. “Look, can we discuss this later? When the light isn’t stabbing my eyes out?”
Evan dims the light with an impatient motion. “Malice, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Because Mal sure as hell doesn’t know where to start and Evan is too pissed to be thinking straight at all.
The nurse returns and looks Evan over to make sure he isn’t bleeding. “Are you ill?”
“No, but-”
“Then out.” Nurse Aileen points at Mal as Evan stalks off. “And you. Your father is on the way and he is not happy.”
Mal covers his face with the pillow.
~~
Shaman is as old-fashioned as her title, and refuses to do anything about Mal’s concussion. “He’s in no danger of hemorrhaging and dying,” she points out, crossing her arms. As the healer for the Loophole’s squad, she knew all their identities, so there’s no problem with her showing up in costume to the Donovan household. “And I’m a big fan of natural healing unless it’s an emergency. Take a few days off patrol and tomorrow off school and you should be fine.”
Mal nods and winces when it doesn’t help his headache any. Shaman rolls her eyes and points up the stairs. “Bed, kiddo,” she orders. “I need to speak with your father.”
He does as he’s told, even though he has not had an easy night’s sleep in a good long while, and isn’t surprised to find Kage and Ethuil waiting for him. “Does Dad know you’re home?” he asks as he kicks off his shoes and starts unbuttoning his shirt. They’re his sisters, his other two thirds, and undressing around each other has never been a problem.
“Of course not,” Kage huffs.
“Yes, because we’re so incompetent as to slip up so easily,” Ethuil scoffs. She scoots over on the bed when Mal flops down on it. “You’ve been hiding things from the hive-mind.”
“You hide things, too, Eth,” Mal reminds her and buries his face in the pillow.
“Phil doesn’t count,” Ethuil says primly.
“The hell he doesn’t,” Kage and Mal contradict. Mal props himself up on his elbows. “We walked in on you making out with some guy we didn’t know.”
“Yes, and sent him running,” Ethuil snaps. “He left town because of your reactions.”
“He left town because he’s a pussy,” Mal corrects. “Not because we took umbrage.”
Kage has a point, as usual. They all know Ethuil hadn’t been looking for anything serious, but Kage forewent her morals to his mind and well. A look at Kage’s face had Mal going into Scary Older Brother Mode.
Mal drops back onto his face. Kage pats his back sympathetically and Ethuil steals the other pillow. “So tell us about it,” Ethuil prompts once they’ve all settled comfortably.
So he tells them about how he’d thought about their words a little more than he usually would and how he was trying to change for the better. Tells them about figuring out who Psyon is and Brandon outright saying who he is. Kage sighs when Mal talks about Evan avoiding him, because they all know when Mal isn’t running the show he has no idea what to do, and sparks of power from Ethuil’s hands turn the sheets lime green when he mentions the encounter with Yellow Flash and the subsequent concussion. “And I’m a dumbass and let it slip that I know Evan is Psyon and said that I’m Spectre all in one go,” he finishes.
Kage looks at Mal contemplatively. “Do I need to have a talk with him?”
Mal shrugs. “Nah, don’t think so.”
“I could have a talk with him,” Eth suggests and Mal loves his sisters, loves them a lot. They like Psyon/Evan and know Mal is a big enough idiot that he’s usually in the wrong in the messes he gets into out of costume, and yet they side with him.
“It’ll work out,” he says and tries to sink further into his bed. Considering the mattress is firm (he usually can’t stand soft beds and it’s Eth whose bed is the kind you can sink four inches into) he has very little luck. “Look, can I sleep this off? I’ll talk to you at dinner. And don’t keep my sheets this color, please.”
Mal must look terrible, because when Ethuil changes the sheet color, the pink isn’t so bright as she could have made it.
~~
Dad is still irate when Mal stumbles down to dinner that evening. Eth is off taking care of a situation downtown and Kage is off conferring with Oliver about something or other, so it’s just Mal and his dad at dinner. Dad looks at Mal for a long moment. “You have a lot of people worried about you, Malice,” he says finally. “Your sisters, Coach Alexander, Professor Urahara…”
“It’s nothing,” Mal dismisses. He has no idea how to explain to his father that he doesn’t like who he used to be and started changing since, especially since a lot of the older capes like to draw parallels between father and son. Mal tries to smile. “Really.”
“That ‘nothing’ has your mother wondering if she needs to come home.”
“Well maybe she should.” Mal drops his head into his hands. “Sorry. I know it’s important she keep on the move because the amount of power she has scares people, and that has nothing to do with what’s going on now.”
“Nothing is incidental. Everything is related.” Of that, Dad has never been anything less than sure.
“It’s just…” Mal takes a deep breath and wants to tell his father what he couldn’t tell his sisters. He can’t sleep sometimes, and that’s when he goes out on patrol by himself at three in the morning. Even though he’s trying to become a better person, it doesn’t seem to do anything, doesn’t seem like it works. He still gets annoyed over stupid crap and other times he just doesn’t care. He can’t focus on anything, so his grades are crap and Brandon has to hassle him to make sure Mal stays focused when they’re running. He teleported to Madrid two days ago because he couldn’t stay in town or he’d lose his mind. Mal wants to tell someone, anyone, that he feels like crap a lot lately, but he has a reputation to hold up, and this is already straining it. He exhales and says nothing.
Dad’s hand drops on his shoulder. “Try to get to sleep at regular hours for the next two weeks,” he orders. “No vigilante work, no all nighters for school. Exercise, but don’t overdo it. Eat better. And for the love of everything good and holy, cut back on my coffee. I’ve tasted how you brew it, and it can be used to peel paint.”
Mal smiles half-heartedly at his dad. “How do you know everything?”
“I just do. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to eat real breakfast if I have to let your sisters force-feed it to you. Now eat your beans.”
Mal eats his beans.
~~
“Justice is talking to Evan,” Brandon announces after going through the requisite pleasantries when Mal shows up to school two days later. “Dunno what about, but the kid had a pretty interesting meltdown on the clock the other night. The girls say you’re taking a break from work, by the way. How do they know everything about you and why are you vacationing?”
Mal shakes his head. He doesn’t quite know how to answer without revealing that ‘the girls’ are also his sisters. His dad’s been leaving multivitamins out for all of them and making breakfast (which is a little unsettling; Mal didn’t think his dad could cook) and they’re all eating better, even though the girls have the ability to eat whatever they want and not gain an ounce of fat. Kage and Eth haven’t said anything about the changes, so Mal presumes they’re in on it. “Haven’t been sleeping lately. Crappy grades. You know how it works.”
Brandon shrugs. “I guess. But you’re okay, right?”
The automatic response-“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”- dies before Mal even opens his mouth. Brandon just nods. “Right. I’ll pass it on.”
~~
The school reschedules the track meet because of rain, so Mal relaxes for most of Saturday. He does some homework, hangs out with his sisters, plays violin with his dad. He wonders that Evan has made no attempt to contact him, but figures it’s okay to let Evan have his space. Brandon comes over in the evening and nags at Mal until Mal finishes his homework while Brandon gets help from Mal’s dad on his own. “Please, explain where I’m going to use Latin,” he says as he erases a mangled attempt at a conjugation. Dad has left the room to get coffee, and the girls are upstairs.
“So you can join Mage Hand and Psyon’s arguments,” Mal suggests.
“Shyeah, right,” Brandon snorts. “Like I wanna get involved in that mess. ‘Sides, Mage Hand won’t talk to me.”
“That would be because you hit him hard enough to permanently stunt his telepathy.” Not that anyone was complaining. Even Mage Hand admits that the amount of psychic power he used to have was a definite contributor to his psychotic break and alcoholism. Mal pauses, thinking about the glances Mage Hand had thrown Super-Smash Guy during the few large group meetings the team has had, how Justice really doesn’t like Mage Hand’s secret identity even though Justice and Brandon don’t know who Mage Hand is out of the mask and vice versa- “Huh.”
“What?” Brandon bends over his homework, scrawling down something that doesn’t look like it would be legible even right-side up. At the lack of response, Brandon peers up at Mal. “I don’t like that look on your face, Mal. What are you thinking?”
Mal bites his lip to try to keep from grinning. No wonder Mage Hand had thought he needed alcohol to get through the day. His trouble was infinitely worse than what Mal deals with now. Dad strolls back into the room, takes one look at Mal’s face and, very dryly, says, “So, you noticed it, too?”
“Noticed what?” Brandon demands.
Mal just laughs and thinks about how long it’s been since he could.
~~
Brandon bounces up and down, looking at the gathered crowd and grinning broadly. “You see that?” he crows and slings an arm around Mal. “All these people wasted a perfectly good Saturday morning just to watch you and me run. Let’s put on a show for ‘em, right?”
Mal grins and hugs Brandon back, if only because he knows a certain recovering alcoholic is watching and jealous. There is a nudge in his mind, but not the nudge he is expecting. Evan sounds uncertain.
‘Yeah. Meet me by the fence.’ Mal jogs off, promising Brandon he isn’t chickening out. Mal leans against the fence and Evan stands across from him on the other side. He is a little nervous; he and Evan have not spoken since that time in the infirmary. “What’s up?”
Evan just looks at him. “You haven’t been at work for a while,” he says finally. “And we haven’t talked, even fought, in a long time.”
Two weeks isn’t exactly long in Mal’s view, but Kage says time feels different when you’re dealing with your concept of it and those of everyone around you. “I figured you could use some space. You know, in case you wanted to stop working with me or-”
“No.” Evan picks at the ends of his sleeves, looking away for a moment. When he looks back, he says, “I want to keep working with you. If you’re okay with it. What with Yellow Flash saying all that stuff, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.”
“Evan, even Pythia knows the future isn’t set in stone, despite what he’ll say on the subject.” Mal looks up when Coach Alexander starts yelling for the team to get together or get off the field. “Hey, we’ll deal with Yellow Flash when he becomes something more than an annoyance, all right? So we’re good?”
Evan smiles and a large portion of the tension in Mal’s chest lifts, both from the issue at hand and everything else that had been bothering Mal for the past few months. Evan smiles the same as he does when he’s Psyon, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Yeah. Good luck, Malice.”
“Friends call me Mal.” Mal starts running back to the team. Professor Urahara sits on the team bench, talking Coach Alexander down from his snit. Mal catches a glimpse of his father in the stands with his sisters. At the top of the stands, he thinks he sees his long-absent mother. She waves and disappears when she catches him looking. Mal turns back to Evan, still standing by the fence. “Watch me win, Ev!”
Evan is smiling. They’re going to be okay.
~~
Mal rubs his head and tries to focus on whatever Professor Urahara is teaching today. It’s something about Utah and a beach, but Utah doesn’t have beaches, and they’re supposed to be on World War II or was it World War I? Mal doesn’t remember, but it’s not like being mind-controlled, it’s just-
“I would thank you not to fall asleep in my class, Mr. Donovan,” Professor Urahara says curtly and Mal knows he’s in for another talk with Coach Alexander. Like Mal doesn’t have enough problems what with the Yellow Flash slamming him into a wall twice last night and the entire team seeing him conked out on the couch for something as stupid as pissing off an ex-cape/villain/whatever the Yellow Flash counts as these days. Oh, and it really shouldn’t bother him so much that Brandon gets a kick out of how Evan is now avoiding Mal because- as Evan told Justice who mentioned it to Brandon who gleefully recounted it to Mal- he thinks Mal being bearable is freaky and the lead-up to some joke against Evan. Brandon pointedly did not mention that Mal’s been either listless or cranky when he isn’t Spectre or trying for nicer. Or that Mal was yawning during Coach Alexander’s team pep talk yesterday.
Something jabs Mal in the side; he turns and sees Evan going back to his notes. “Pay attention,” Evan orders sotto voce. He glances up at the board again. “This is on the test.”
“Oh, so you’ll talk to me now,” Mal grumbles and jots something down in the music composition book he uses for note-taking. No one else can understand the music notation Mal uses and he likes it that way. Note-taking would be easier if the lights weren’t so damn bright today.
Evan does not answer, and Mal tries to focus on the topic at hand. Judging by the twitch Professor Urahara’s eye is developing, Mal is failing, and miserably, like he has been doing for a while now. The bell rings for classes to change and Mal doesn’t even bother to get up from his seat. Evan gives him a weird look and opens his mouth to ask what’s up, but Professor Urahara is walking over in slow and measured steps that mean someone is getting expelled, so Evan beats a hasty retreat instead. Mal stands and fights the urge to lean against his desk. His head hurts a lot and he wishes he had stayed in bed this morning when Eth suggested it. “Professor.”
“Is there something the matter?” Professor Urahara asks unexpectedly.
Mal blinks. He had anticipated a reaming out for being inattentive again. “Huh?”
“Your grades are slipping, and not only in my class. You tripped in track practice this morning and nearly ran into your coach.”
“You watch track practice?” Mal is stalling; he has no idea how to rectify this situation and it’s only a matter of time before someone calls his dad, who will then call his mom, who will forcibly make him give up vigilantism until his grades are better. He can’t give up cape-work. It’s the only time lately he feels like himself.
Professor Urahara pinches the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Donovan, I believe you to not be obtuse, and would appreciate that you operate under the same assumption about myself.”
“I didn’t mean to imply-”
“Regardless.” Professor Urahara peers down at Mal. “You are concussed. It would be in your best interests to accompany me to the nurse’s office so your father can come pick you up.”
Mal suppresses a groan. Forget what his mother will do, his dad is going to kill him for not realizing he’d been hurt worse than he thought. “Is that really necessary?”
“That depends on how soon you wish to be able to return to your extra-curricular activities.”
Time stops, or at least that’s how it feels to Mal. His teacher knows he’s a cape. Just how many people have figured it out? Brandon and Justice (because who else would be Libra if not Super-Smash Guy's best friend both in and out of the mask? The name is kind of a dead giveaway in hindsight, too) know because Mal was sloppy, Mage Hand knows because he puppeteered Mal for a month before anyone figured it out- “Mr. Donovan.”
He blinks and Professor Urahara appears almost concerned. “Maybe you’re right,” Mal manages and grabs his school bag. Faking normal never took as much energy as it does now. “A little rest makes everything better, right?”
“Coach Alexander expressed concern that you might not be well enough for the track meet this weekend,” the professor says as he leads the way down the hall and Mal almost falls over. Of course. Professor Urahara meant the track team. Mal’s cover is still intact. Right. Okay. He can work with this.
“So I guess you and Coach Alexander talk a lot,” Mal says as he walks alongside Professor Urahara. “He said you sent him after me last time.”
Professor Urahara pauses. “We are acquaintances, yes,” he allows, which in Urahara-speak means they’re pretty good friends. “Much in the way you and Mr. Horatio are acquainted, I expect.”
“…you two hated each other a lot and one of you got tired of it and the other got weirded out by the first one acting different?” That’s definitely not the vibe Mal had been getting from the two. Mal’s been trying, but Evan’s not giving him anything to work with, and Mal is this close to calling it quits and just following his mother around the world.
“We had a rocky start.” That is all Professor Urahara will say on the matter, and Mal lets it lie.
Professor Urahara leaves Mal with Nurse Aileen while he calls Mal’s dad. Evan peers into the office almost as soon as the nurse disappears on some errand or other. “Are you all right?” he asks and seems loathe to be in the room, keeping his feet in the hall and just leaning in. “You’ve been kind of weird all morning. I mean, you’ve been weird for over a month now, but weirder today.”
Mal grins wryly. “I managed to get concussed at some point. Apparently, two teachers noticed it and Urahara is now calling my dad.”
Evan winces in sympathy. Then there is a brush of telepathy against Mal’s mind.
Mal thinks back, ‘Yeah, just fine, Psy.’
“So you’re gonna be okay then,” Evan says.
The concussion is worse than Mal thought, because he answers without thinking, “Yeah, didn’t I just answer that question?”
Evan’s face goes blank. “That was the first time I asked you,” he says carefully, with a subtle emphasis on ‘you.’ He none-too-gently rattles Mal’s mental shields. Normally, this is not a problem. Normally, Mal does not have a concussion.
“Ow, shit, was that really necessary?” Mal gripes, clutching his head. “Geez, Evan, you have the subtlety of a freaking sledgehammer.”
Evan’s response is a little more proactive than Mal was expecting. “You knew I was Psyon?” he hisses as he stalks into the room. The door flies shut behind him. “Is that why you started acting so weird and being out on patrol with the others more often-”
“Surprisingly enough, not everything has to do with you,” Mal snaps because his head still really fucking hurts and he really does not need this right now. “I meant it when I said I was tired of who I’d been. I meant I liked being Spectre more than I liked being myself. That little epiphany happened weeks before I figured out who you were, which, by the way, was an accident.”
“Right, so I guess you thought it would be funny to just keep it to yourself.”
“Evan, are you sure you’re not the one with the concussion? Because you’re not making any sense. At all. What the hell use would it have been in telling you? I knew the second you knew both our real identities you’d be questioning my motivations.” Mal rubs his temples, hunching over on his cot. “Look, can we discuss this later? When the light isn’t stabbing my eyes out?”
Evan dims the light with an impatient motion. “Malice, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Because Mal sure as hell doesn’t know where to start and Evan is too pissed to be thinking straight at all.
The nurse returns and looks Evan over to make sure he isn’t bleeding. “Are you ill?”
“No, but-”
“Then out.” Nurse Aileen points at Mal as Evan stalks off. “And you. Your father is on the way and he is not happy.”
Mal covers his face with the pillow.
~~
Shaman is as old-fashioned as her title, and refuses to do anything about Mal’s concussion. “He’s in no danger of hemorrhaging and dying,” she points out, crossing her arms. As the healer for the Loophole’s squad, she knew all their identities, so there’s no problem with her showing up in costume to the Donovan household. “And I’m a big fan of natural healing unless it’s an emergency. Take a few days off patrol and tomorrow off school and you should be fine.”
Mal nods and winces when it doesn’t help his headache any. Shaman rolls her eyes and points up the stairs. “Bed, kiddo,” she orders. “I need to speak with your father.”
He does as he’s told, even though he has not had an easy night’s sleep in a good long while, and isn’t surprised to find Kage and Ethuil waiting for him. “Does Dad know you’re home?” he asks as he kicks off his shoes and starts unbuttoning his shirt. They’re his sisters, his other two thirds, and undressing around each other has never been a problem.
“Of course not,” Kage huffs.
“Yes, because we’re so incompetent as to slip up so easily,” Ethuil scoffs. She scoots over on the bed when Mal flops down on it. “You’ve been hiding things from the hive-mind.”
“You hide things, too, Eth,” Mal reminds her and buries his face in the pillow.
“Phil doesn’t count,” Ethuil says primly.
“The hell he doesn’t,” Kage and Mal contradict. Mal props himself up on his elbows. “We walked in on you making out with some guy we didn’t know.”
“Yes, and sent him running,” Ethuil snaps. “He left town because of your reactions.”
“He left town because he’s a pussy,” Mal corrects. “Not because we took umbrage.”
Kage has a point, as usual. They all know Ethuil hadn’t been looking for anything serious, but Kage forewent her morals to his mind and well. A look at Kage’s face had Mal going into Scary Older Brother Mode.
Mal drops back onto his face. Kage pats his back sympathetically and Ethuil steals the other pillow. “So tell us about it,” Ethuil prompts once they’ve all settled comfortably.
So he tells them about how he’d thought about their words a little more than he usually would and how he was trying to change for the better. Tells them about figuring out who Psyon is and Brandon outright saying who he is. Kage sighs when Mal talks about Evan avoiding him, because they all know when Mal isn’t running the show he has no idea what to do, and sparks of power from Ethuil’s hands turn the sheets lime green when he mentions the encounter with Yellow Flash and the subsequent concussion. “And I’m a dumbass and let it slip that I know Evan is Psyon and said that I’m Spectre all in one go,” he finishes.
Kage looks at Mal contemplatively. “Do I need to have a talk with him?”
Mal shrugs. “Nah, don’t think so.”
“I could have a talk with him,” Eth suggests and Mal loves his sisters, loves them a lot. They like Psyon/Evan and know Mal is a big enough idiot that he’s usually in the wrong in the messes he gets into out of costume, and yet they side with him.
“It’ll work out,” he says and tries to sink further into his bed. Considering the mattress is firm (he usually can’t stand soft beds and it’s Eth whose bed is the kind you can sink four inches into) he has very little luck. “Look, can I sleep this off? I’ll talk to you at dinner. And don’t keep my sheets this color, please.”
Mal must look terrible, because when Ethuil changes the sheet color, the pink isn’t so bright as she could have made it.
~~
Dad is still irate when Mal stumbles down to dinner that evening. Eth is off taking care of a situation downtown and Kage is off conferring with Oliver about something or other, so it’s just Mal and his dad at dinner. Dad looks at Mal for a long moment. “You have a lot of people worried about you, Malice,” he says finally. “Your sisters, Coach Alexander, Professor Urahara…”
“It’s nothing,” Mal dismisses. He has no idea how to explain to his father that he doesn’t like who he used to be and started changing since, especially since a lot of the older capes like to draw parallels between father and son. Mal tries to smile. “Really.”
“That ‘nothing’ has your mother wondering if she needs to come home.”
“Well maybe she should.” Mal drops his head into his hands. “Sorry. I know it’s important she keep on the move because the amount of power she has scares people, and that has nothing to do with what’s going on now.”
“Nothing is incidental. Everything is related.” Of that, Dad has never been anything less than sure.
“It’s just…” Mal takes a deep breath and wants to tell his father what he couldn’t tell his sisters. He can’t sleep sometimes, and that’s when he goes out on patrol by himself at three in the morning. Even though he’s trying to become a better person, it doesn’t seem to do anything, doesn’t seem like it works. He still gets annoyed over stupid crap and other times he just doesn’t care. He can’t focus on anything, so his grades are crap and Brandon has to hassle him to make sure Mal stays focused when they’re running. He teleported to Madrid two days ago because he couldn’t stay in town or he’d lose his mind. Mal wants to tell someone, anyone, that he feels like crap a lot lately, but he has a reputation to hold up, and this is already straining it. He exhales and says nothing.
Dad’s hand drops on his shoulder. “Try to get to sleep at regular hours for the next two weeks,” he orders. “No vigilante work, no all nighters for school. Exercise, but don’t overdo it. Eat better. And for the love of everything good and holy, cut back on my coffee. I’ve tasted how you brew it, and it can be used to peel paint.”
Mal smiles half-heartedly at his dad. “How do you know everything?”
“I just do. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to eat real breakfast if I have to let your sisters force-feed it to you. Now eat your beans.”
Mal eats his beans.
~~
“Justice is talking to Evan,” Brandon announces after going through the requisite pleasantries when Mal shows up to school two days later. “Dunno what about, but the kid had a pretty interesting meltdown on the clock the other night. The girls say you’re taking a break from work, by the way. How do they know everything about you and why are you vacationing?”
Mal shakes his head. He doesn’t quite know how to answer without revealing that ‘the girls’ are also his sisters. His dad’s been leaving multivitamins out for all of them and making breakfast (which is a little unsettling; Mal didn’t think his dad could cook) and they’re all eating better, even though the girls have the ability to eat whatever they want and not gain an ounce of fat. Kage and Eth haven’t said anything about the changes, so Mal presumes they’re in on it. “Haven’t been sleeping lately. Crappy grades. You know how it works.”
Brandon shrugs. “I guess. But you’re okay, right?”
The automatic response-“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”- dies before Mal even opens his mouth. Brandon just nods. “Right. I’ll pass it on.”
~~
The school reschedules the track meet because of rain, so Mal relaxes for most of Saturday. He does some homework, hangs out with his sisters, plays violin with his dad. He wonders that Evan has made no attempt to contact him, but figures it’s okay to let Evan have his space. Brandon comes over in the evening and nags at Mal until Mal finishes his homework while Brandon gets help from Mal’s dad on his own. “Please, explain where I’m going to use Latin,” he says as he erases a mangled attempt at a conjugation. Dad has left the room to get coffee, and the girls are upstairs.
“So you can join Mage Hand and Psyon’s arguments,” Mal suggests.
“Shyeah, right,” Brandon snorts. “Like I wanna get involved in that mess. ‘Sides, Mage Hand won’t talk to me.”
“That would be because you hit him hard enough to permanently stunt his telepathy.” Not that anyone was complaining. Even Mage Hand admits that the amount of psychic power he used to have was a definite contributor to his psychotic break and alcoholism. Mal pauses, thinking about the glances Mage Hand had thrown Super-Smash Guy during the few large group meetings the team has had, how Justice really doesn’t like Mage Hand’s secret identity even though Justice and Brandon don’t know who Mage Hand is out of the mask and vice versa- “Huh.”
“What?” Brandon bends over his homework, scrawling down something that doesn’t look like it would be legible even right-side up. At the lack of response, Brandon peers up at Mal. “I don’t like that look on your face, Mal. What are you thinking?”
Mal bites his lip to try to keep from grinning. No wonder Mage Hand had thought he needed alcohol to get through the day. His trouble was infinitely worse than what Mal deals with now. Dad strolls back into the room, takes one look at Mal’s face and, very dryly, says, “So, you noticed it, too?”
“Noticed what?” Brandon demands.
Mal just laughs and thinks about how long it’s been since he could.
~~
Brandon bounces up and down, looking at the gathered crowd and grinning broadly. “You see that?” he crows and slings an arm around Mal. “All these people wasted a perfectly good Saturday morning just to watch you and me run. Let’s put on a show for ‘em, right?”
Mal grins and hugs Brandon back, if only because he knows a certain recovering alcoholic is watching and jealous. There is a nudge in his mind, but not the nudge he is expecting. Evan sounds uncertain.
‘Yeah. Meet me by the fence.’ Mal jogs off, promising Brandon he isn’t chickening out. Mal leans against the fence and Evan stands across from him on the other side. He is a little nervous; he and Evan have not spoken since that time in the infirmary. “What’s up?”
Evan just looks at him. “You haven’t been at work for a while,” he says finally. “And we haven’t talked, even fought, in a long time.”
Two weeks isn’t exactly long in Mal’s view, but Kage says time feels different when you’re dealing with your concept of it and those of everyone around you. “I figured you could use some space. You know, in case you wanted to stop working with me or-”
“No.” Evan picks at the ends of his sleeves, looking away for a moment. When he looks back, he says, “I want to keep working with you. If you’re okay with it. What with Yellow Flash saying all that stuff, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to.”
“Evan, even Pythia knows the future isn’t set in stone, despite what he’ll say on the subject.” Mal looks up when Coach Alexander starts yelling for the team to get together or get off the field. “Hey, we’ll deal with Yellow Flash when he becomes something more than an annoyance, all right? So we’re good?”
Evan smiles and a large portion of the tension in Mal’s chest lifts, both from the issue at hand and everything else that had been bothering Mal for the past few months. Evan smiles the same as he does when he’s Psyon, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Yeah. Good luck, Malice.”
“Friends call me Mal.” Mal starts running back to the team. Professor Urahara sits on the team bench, talking Coach Alexander down from his snit. Mal catches a glimpse of his father in the stands with his sisters. At the top of the stands, he thinks he sees his long-absent mother. She waves and disappears when she catches him looking. Mal turns back to Evan, still standing by the fence. “Watch me win, Ev!”
Evan is smiling. They’re going to be okay.