Flinging the book aside, heedless of the fact that she hadn't put a bookmark in it, Taylor climbed off her bed and paced. She checked the time and couldn't fathom how only a minute had gone by when she'd just spent an hour reading the same sentence.

Nine-forty-two read out on her screen and though it was only seventeen minutes to ten, she felt ten would never come. Maybe she'd been trapped in the Time Stop and she hadn't realized it.

Taylor: Did you put me in the Time Stop without me knowing it?

Taylor made a full rotation of her room before a reply dinged on her phone.

Dominic: Waiting is going well I see.
You can wait in my room if you want company.
I'm only reading.

Taylor reached one of her walls and spun around. On her return lap, she exchanged her room for Dominic's. He let out a loud yelp of surprise, dropping his book on his face. Taylor only cast him a skeptical glance as he shoved the book off and sat up.

"You said I could wait with you," she said, making a new path in his carpet.

"Yeah, but I expected you to accept first before suddenly appearing in my room."

Rolling her eyes, Taylor returned herself to her own room.

Taylor: Thanks I'll be there in a second.

When certain the message had gone through, Taylor popped back up in Dominic's room still walking.

"Better?" she said.

"Yes. Thank you. I appreciate the heads up."

"You're welcome. I can wear out your carpet instead of mine. This works-"

"Dominic? Are you okay?" a deep voice called out as it drew closer.

Dominic locked eyes with Taylor and she only shook her head in resignation as she took another step forward as the room shifted back to hers. The option of hiding from Dominic's dad in Dominic's closet was a viable one but Taylor didn't want to risk Dominic getting in trouble.

Taylor: I won't come back. I don't want to get you into trouble.

An answer didn't come back and Taylor figured Dominic was talking to his father. Which meant Taylor was alone once again with the slowest progression of time in the history of the world. She checked the time and found she wasn't exaggerating since the entire exchange had eaten up only two minutes.

Just as Taylor was thinking of leaving her room to stand in the shadows of some building near the police station, before it was time to show up, her phone dinged again.

Clint: Let me know how it goes with Weston.

Taylor: Sure.

If I don't die of impatience first.

Clint: Sorry. I will stay with you until it's time.

Taylor instantly appeared in Clint's room and he shouted in surprise.

"Sorry, I should stop doing that," she said, wincing.

In her defense, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin and that seemed to mean she was doing it to others.

"I'll go back."

"No, no, no," Clint said, waving his hands to stop her as he sat up on his bed. "It's fine. You just scared me."

"What every girl wants to hear."

"You can't blame me, you showed up out of nowhere."

"You said you'd wait with me."

"I meant messages but hey, wait," Clint said, coming to his knees as if he feared Taylor would vanish. "It's fine. You're here. You can stay."

"Okay. Thanks."

Taylor went back to pacing but stopped a second later when she realized she wasn't familiar with the layout of Clint's room. She made a slow circle, absorbing it all and understanding what he'd meant when he said his room was the opposite of Dominic's.

Where Dominic's was crammed with books, Clint's was bare. It contained the necessities along with a punching bag but not much beyond that.

"You weren't joking about your room," Taylor said.

"I don't like things looking messy."

Looking at the bare monk-like room, Taylor couldn't imagine it ever getting a single spect of dust on it. After the first initial surprise faded, Taylor realized the true absence in the room.

"You don't have any of your trophies or prizes from your competitions here," she said, doing another circle as if that would somehow make them magically appear.

Since she had the ability to suddenly appear, she didn't fully dismiss the idea that the awards could materialize.

"No," Clint said, sinking back onto his bed. "I don't."

The curiosity about the bareness of Clint's bedroom disappeared completely as Taylor faced Clint.

"Will you ever do competitions again?" she asked.

Clint wrapped his arms around his bent knees and stared down at his comforter. The curved posture made him seem less like a capable trainer and more like an uncertain boy. Taylor moved a step forward, understanding that type of uncertainty.

"Actually," Clint said. "I...uh... I've decided to compete again. You...inspired...me."

Without lifting his head, he lifted his eyes to her as if not sure how she'd take this statement. Taylor didn't know how she was supposed to take it, after all what inspiration could she offer anyone? Looking at her life from an outward perspective the only thing she could say was it was the help of other people that kept her from slowly falling apart. One of those people being Clint.

"Uh. Why me?" Taylor said, tugging at the edge of her hoodie sleeve.

"Because for the past couple of months, I've watched you push yourself even if you were scared. And I've been... terrified to go back to competitions because of the last time. But." He smiled shyly at her. "If you have the courage to do something even when it scares you, why shouldn't I?" He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Sounds stupid considering you're working with an ability and I'm only thinking of doing a karate competition."

"I don't think it's stupid," Taylor rushed in. Clint held her gaze as he clasped his hands together. "I don't. And I'll be there when you compete. But only if you want me to."

Clint relaxed his tight grip on his hands. "I want you there. It's in two weeks."

"Two weeks? But don't you have to train for a while to be ready?"

Clint scrunched up his shoulders in embarrassment. "I've never stopped training, I...just thought that I wouldn't compete again."

"Then I will be there."

"Thanks."

Under his warm, grateful gaze, Taylor felt her cheeks starting to change colors and broke away. The bareness of his room struck her again.

"You should display one of your medals or plaques," she said. "It could remind you that you can do this."

"Why not a picture of you since you're my inspiration?" Taylor froze and Clint widened his eyes and cringed. "That came out really bad, didn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Displaying a medal sounds really good. I'll definitely do that. Thanks for the advice."

"That works or a picture of me, either one."

Clint buried his face in his hands, his shoulders hunching more than even before. Taylor laughed which made Clint peek through his fingers at her.

"How bad am I doing?" he asked.

She shrugged. "You're asking the girl who needed advice on how to talk to boys. I don't think I should be the one with a stone, I'm in the glass house."

Clint ran his hands through his hair, still avoiding lifting his head. "I'm sorry I'm so bad at this. I don't have a lot of... experience."

"Really?"

Clint finally raised his head. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but I'm an extremely intense person."

"You don't say?" Taylor teased which produced a tiny smile from Clint.

"My life has been school, friends, and training. A girl has never factored into that."

"You sound like me except my life was only school and, you know, saving people."

"Not like you at all really."

"I saw the connection."

Clint grinned at her and Taylor smiled back but stopped when she noticed the time on the clock beside Clint's bed. Where she'd seemed to spend an eternity on her own, with Clint the time had vanished in a blink.

"I have to go," she said.

Clint moved as if to go with her or try to keep her to stay a second longer but stopped.

"It will be fine," he said.

The reassurance bolstered Taylor while making her heart clench with worry.

"You promise?" she asked.

Clint could only shrug and Taylor understood, that some promises in life were pointless to make.

"I can only hope," Clint said.

Knowing there was nothing to say to that since Taylor almost feared to hope, the room vanished, replaced by a narrow space between two apartment buildings across from the police station.

Gazing up at the building, Taylor felt struck with the realization that she hadn't entered the front doors ever in the past year. Always she'd jumped directly to Weston's office. But this time he'd requested she didn't.

With his request reading out in her mind, she felt a little like a criminal as she climbed the stairs to the front door and pushed it open. Though she'd be a criminal willingly turning herself in, she was still the one who was in the wrong.

Inside, she knew she needed to address the woman waiting behind the desk but Taylor felt rooted to the floor. The last time she'd been in this exact spot she'd been saving officers against rioting criminals. She'd been shot, in that corner, and Weston had arrived in time to help her.

The elevator doors dinged and like deja vu, Weston stepped off.

Taylor tore her gaze away from the corner where she remembered the shock of searing pain to meet her brother's eyes. In an instant, she knew it had been a terrible idea to meet in that place. But maybe that had been his intention, a reminder to her of what had happened, of the reason why he felt conflicted with what she did.

With the pain, the chaos, and the fear of those memories all too real, Taylor found she couldn't blame him for his decision. After all, he'd had to watch her reveal herself to him while bleeding out on his office floor. If the roles were reversed she'd never want him to do anything dangerous ever again. Except that was already her reality, he was a detective after all. His safety was never guaranteed.

"Come on," Weston said.

Taylor dug her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and joined him on the elevator. As the levels climbed, Weston stared at the numbers but spoke to her.

"I said to wear something normal," he said.

Taylor inspected her outfit: black hoodie, black jeans, comfortable shoes.

"Sadly black has just become a common color for me," she said.

Weston nodded but Taylor didn't think he believed her. Maybe he was smart not to believe her, it was an outfit that would also mean that Taylor could easily save someone while keeping her anonymity.

When they stepped off the elevator, Weston cut to the right as Taylor cut to the left. Together, they twisted back to each other, pointing in opposite directions. Taylor would have pointed out it was their sibling bond that had them so in sync, but the seriousness of Weston's expression kept her from it.

"Your office, right?" Taylor asked.

Without responding, Weston turned away and walked off. Knowing when to not say anything and just accept it, Taylor followed him. Weston led her to a small office and Taylor wondered if he didn't want anyone seeing her in his. But when she took a second longer to take in the room's decoration, or half of them since it seemed there was a second person who shared the office, she discovered it held Weston's things. This was his office.

This was confirmed when Weston took the seat behind one of the desks.

"Why aren't you in your office?" Taylor blurted out.

Weston leaned back and rested his clasped hands on his stomach but not in a content manner. "I am."

"No, your other office. The one I always... would..."

Weston waited until Taylor showed she didn't plan on ending the sentence and bringing up the past before speaking.

"This is what happens when your superior discovers that you've been working with a vigilante for months without his permission or without discussing it with him. You get demoted."

"You're not a detective anymore?"

"I'm still an investigator but no longer a senior investigator."

Guilt slammed into Taylor and she took a step back as if it were a physical force. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I never thought that-"

Weston held up his hand and sighed. "It's my fault. You came to me because you knew you could trust me. I wish you'd have told me, but it was my fault for accepting your help without going to my superior. I brought you in for ongoing investigations that you weren't allowed to see. You might have hidden the truth from me but these consequences are mine. Not yours."

Though Taylor could see that Weston took full responsibility, she wondered if she should have done it differently, could have done it differently.

"Sit down," Weston said. "There's no reason to try to rethink the past. What's done is done."

Woodenly, Taylor sat down but instantly leapt to her feet. "Wait, why am I here? Won't this get you in more trouble?"

Weston smiled a little and Taylor ached at the sight, having missed seeing it for what felt like years. "Sit down, Tay."

His use of her nickname helped ease Taylor back into her seat.

"I asked you here because technically you witnessed the bank robbery. I am going to write up what you saw for the report. I brought you at this time because some aspects of your statement can't be put in."

"Oh. So you are on that investigation?"

"I am." Weston woke up his computer. "I need you to tell me exactly what happened and I'll figure out how to omit the things that can't be shared."

"That won't-"

"I'll be fine. But I do need to know everything since right now you are the only lead we have."

Taylor felt a sense of eagerness to help and opened her mouth to let everything that happened come pouring out but the words stopped halfway up her throat. The story involved others that Weston didn't know about and Dominic's secret wasn't hers to give away.

"What?" Weston asked narrowing his eyes at her.

The truth of Dominic and his ability would be safe with Weston, Taylor knew this but still, she didn't feel right telling him. Would Dominic give her permission to share or even call her stupid for even thinking about not telling him? Or would he be mad that she shared it without asking?

Dominic acted careless at times but having the type of secret they had wasn't something easily shared. And she would not hurt a friend, even if she thought he would be okay with her sharing.

"You might argue with me over this, but there are parts of the story I can't share with you. They aren't important to the investigation but I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

Weston looked like he wanted to argue for her to change her mind but let out a breath and nodded. "Tell me as much as you can."

Starting with getting the Pull, a concept Taylor realized she hadn't ever told him about and had to explain, she laid out what happened. As much as she could, she gave all the details possible, especially since Weston told her there was no footage, every single camera pointing in the wrong direction.

"Then I hit the wall and blacked out," Taylor said, finishing.

Weston continued to type but paused. "What do you mean blacked out?"

"Exactly what I mean, I got knocked unconscious."

Lacing his fingers together in an overly controlled manner, Weston laid them on the desk. "Tay. If you showed up out of nowhere, the robber attacked you, you blacked out, how did you get out of there? How did you escape without him making sure you could never identify him?"

Taylor swore in her mind, knowing that question was one she hadn't want asked.

"That's the part I can't tell you about," she said.

"You have a partner," Weston said.

"I can't tell you."

Dragging his hand through his hair then placing his hands on his head, Weston rocked back in his chair, staring at her. Taylor held his gaze, hoping he saw her apology as well as conviction in not being able to share this one piece.

"You can't tell," he said. "But could your partner write up what they saw? They might have seen something you didn't. I need anything."

"Yeah, I can ask him."

Taylor nearly disappeared the instant the word slipped out and Weston stopped rocking, his posture completely tense.

"Him?"

Taylor jumped to her feet. "Is this all you need from me? I should get home. Getting late and everything."

"That's not an excuse, you can teleport. Sit down."

Dropping her head back and closing her eyes, Taylor seriously contemplated leaving. As Weston had pointed out, she could teleport which meant she could just go.

"Do not leave," Weston said.

With a heavy sigh, Taylor sank back into the chair. "I'm not going to tell you anything. It's not my place to tell."

"I have one question: you trust him?"

"With my life."

The instant response caught Weston off guard but seemed to take away his intensity.

"Ah. Okay." He cleared his throat. "Ask...him, if he can write up what he saw."

"I will." Taylor stood and took a step back but felt the want to remain in the office for longer, just to be with her brother. "I'll see you-"

The Pull cut into her stomach and Taylor gripped the back of the chair at the intensity and shock of it. Weston bolted from his chair, rushing to her side.

"What is it? What's wrong? Taylor, what's wrong?" Weston asked.

"The Pull," Taylor got out.

"What now?"

"I don't control it," Taylor said. She managed to meet his gaze. "Feel like saving someone tonight because this is bad."

"I'll get my keys."

"I don't know where we're going."

"How can you not know where you're going?"

"Do you seriously want to talk about this now!"

Weston swore, grabbed a pair of handcuffs, and touched Taylor's shoulder. "If we do this, you have to follow my instructions."

"Got it."

Taylor whipped them out of the office before Weston could change his mind or the pain could worsen. When they landed on a street somewhere downtown, Taylor let out a breath the pain instantly gone.

"Where are we?" Weston asked. "Where's the trouble?"

Taylor twirled her fingers. "Somewhere in a block radius."

"It's not precise?"

"No, but if you listen-"

The statement didn't need to be finished as a scream pierced the night, directing them where to go. Weston took off with Taylor right behind him.

"You stay behind," Weston called over his shoulder. "You do not move unless I ask you to help, got it?"

"Got it."

Taylor knew that she had one chance to do this right, if she didn't she was afraid she'd lose the opportunity to do it again.

At a dark alley, Weston slowed and Taylor saw what he did, two men with guns trained on a woman, one of the men holding the woman's arm.

"Stay back," Weston told Taylor.

On soundless feet, Weston crept along the wall towards the men, removing his gun as he went, the shadows hiding him. A few feet from the men, Weston revealed himself.

"Police," Weston yelled. "Put your hands up."

The man closest to Weston froze when he saw Weston's gun pointed at him while the other man took off running.

"Shadow! Deal with him!"

Taylor couldn't help the grin that overtook her face at her brother's use of Shadow. Pulling up her hoodie, Taylor jumped right in front of the fleeing man. With a yelp of surprise, the man stumbled but lifted his gun. In a blink, Taylor vanished and reappeared right next to the man.

"Hi," she said.

Before he could turn to her, Taylor touched him and sent him back down the alley, landing next to Weston.

"Heads up!" Taylor yelled just as the man bent down and threw up.

Weston gave her a look and she held up her hands as if to say: I did say heads up.

With a sigh, Weston approached the other man and cuffed him. What followed next was a call for a police cruiser to come to pick up the men, reassurance and questions for the woman, and an agreed-upon story for how they found the situation. It was simple, Weston had been out with his sister and they'd heard a scream. The terrified mutters of one of the men were not to be believed.

As the two officers who arrived to help guide the men into the back of the cruiser, Taylor faced Weston and shoved her hands into her pockets.

"We make a good team," she said.

Weston stared at her, the light from the swirling police lights creating shadows on his face making it hard for Taylor to distinguish his expression.

"Or not," she said quietly.

"Tay... if you want. If you want us to be able to work together." Taylor felt hope rush up on her but she tried to calm it. "If you want there to be a possibility for us to work together then you need to tell Mom and Dad."

"Tell Mom and Dad what?"

"What you can do."

Taylor's hopes vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Tell her parents the truth. The truth that she'd kept hidden for almost a year. A truth that she feared would have terrible effects on them.

"I can't do that," she said.

"It's your choice," Weston said. "I can't have something happening to you and have to tell them the whole truth. You're still seventeen, Tay."

"Weston, I-"

"That's my condition. If you want to work together again, you have to tell our parents the truth about your ability."

**********************************************************************

"YOU HAVE A MENTAL ARM?!"

I felt like the exclamation was fitting because...

WHAT?! Is Weston seriously serious about... *coughs* Right my format.

💬💭🗯🌚

Reader Joy: JOY! Weston can't be serious about this! Tell their parents! Like this could go so badly! Like real badly! I think he'd just being dramatic.

Writer Joy: You don't think they deserve to know.

Reader Joy: *flails around and scrunches up face* WELL! When you put it like that... NO! Come on! This could be so bad! She's been lying to them for months! Telling them now would mean it just ends so badly.

Writer Joy: That's a fair take on it.

Reader Joy: You're still not going to have Weston change his mind, are you?

Writer Joy: What do you think?

Reader Joy: I really hate you.

Writer Joy: *bops my reflection* I know.

If you feel like it or if you've made it this far in the chapter then consider a vote, comment, follow!