And I felt too nauseous to eat.

I’d walked away from the situation room and the Amy situation wanting to climb into bed and pull heavy covers up around me. Not an option. I needed to do what I could here, or I’d regret it forever.

I wanted another shower, but it would have felt weird, and my skin always prickled and itched if I showered too much in close succession. If my skin did that now then there was a good chance I’d drag nine fingernails through it until it stopped or I didn’t have skin anymore.

I’d needed to get out, and my instinct was to meet my basic needs. Late morning, roughly time for lunch. There were cafeterias in the Wardens Headquarters.

It was supposed to be me coming up for air. That was what the situation room was becoming, for me. Being pushed beneath the surface, a brief, furious struggle, victory, a gasp of air. Pushed beneath again.

I wanted out and away. Actual freedom, extending as far as my fist, stopping at the enemy’s face. The Wardens were suppressing me.

But… stretching out that metaphor, I was aware that the drowning could latch onto rescuers, even fight them in their desperation. Another case of our bodies and biology being counterintuitive, uncomfortable or dangerous. I was acutely aware of the contradictions and hints that surrounded me and myself now. Extending myself to offer Amy that benefit of a doubt meant I had to extend the doubt to myself at the same time, sans benefit.

I ate the chicken, despite my body sending me five different signals saying I shouldn’t. Too full. No you’re not, stupid body, you ate a light dinner last night and had a meal barely bigger than your fist this morning. Nauseous. You’re being stupid. Overwhelming. It’s mild, actually taste it. Unfamiliar poison! The Wardens wouldn’t poison everyone on site by serving something dangerous in the cafeteria. Probably. Slimy. No, shut up internal voice, it’s a motherfucking delight of texture.

It was a policy of mine to never throw away food that an animal had contributed its life to, even if it was two strips of bacon on an egg sandwich.

I kept my mind busy, mulling over what I needed to go over with, with Tattletale. There were two key areas that were high-risk, if I was discounting Amy as the principal threat. Those areas had overlap. Contessa had blind spots. Dinah did too, but they seemed to operate differently, and Dinah had seen more clearly through the end of the world than Contessa had. According to Dinah.

For Contessa, it was blind spots. The biggest threats, giants, portals, and areas powers had maximal sway. There were a few capes who she couldn’t get past, and some were explicit, ones that were officially on the record, like how Teacher’s doorway to the source of powers had blocked her vision. Mama Mathers was explicit too. A whole area that even Contessa couldn’t turn her attention toward.