“If she’d been meant to be a basketball player and they pressured her to be a hero, she could have found her way to basketball, I think. But since they pressured her to be a heroine and she was born to be a heroine, I think, it’s all tangled up. The lessons, warnings, the conditional love as much as they probably didn’t intend to make it conditional… the complicated feelings, the family, the relationships… I don’t think it’s bias that Gallant was so bad for her. She didn’t love him. She just felt like she had to be with him because expectations. They didn’t let her hide her identity, not that it was really possible. They made the decision when she was seven and she was brought on talk shows and put in front of cameras to talk about what it was like having superheroes for parents. I had too much stage fright to do it. We were local celebrities.”

Her hands rubbed at her tattoos again. It felt like there was just tattoo, meat, and bone. No skin.

“Our Aunt Fleur—she wasn’t officially our aunt, there was never a wedding, but I really liked her. She was kind of an outsider like me. Her body wasn’t even cold when people were putting microphones in front of us. We were kids. Not even in middle school. That fucks you up.”

Amy checked Jessica’s expression. Nothing.

“Victoria did this thing at the community center and that tells me she still needs to be a hero. But she’s angry. If you saw her last night…” Amy said, trailing off. “Carol says she’s not putting on her costume, she’s doing some thing volunteering with teenagers, helping out around the portals. Teaching them about capes. But that’s not enough. She’s in stasis like that. She won’t grow, she won’t heal… because she’s not herself. What I said earlier, about me not being entirely me, and her not being her? She’s still not herself. And I admit I played a role in that.”

Fingers rubbed against tattoo. It always felt like the gold ink should smear.

“She needs to be a hero in a way that doesn’t put that anger front and center. That doesn’t involve Carol and Mark. In a way that involves healing and supporting. Not heroics for justice, not heroics for power. Not revenge, not monster-slaying. Because that all feeds back into the anger. I’m not a doctor, I’m not a therapist, but I know her. I analyzed her enough over the years, believe me.”

Jessica’s empty cup tapped against the railing. When Amy looked, the woman seemed to be lost in thought.

“Do you want me to take your cup?” she asked.

Jessica handed it over. Amy deposited it into the recycling bin to her right.

Still no flinch. That was reassuring.