The knife at my throat

by Starry_Fics

Summary:

After Taylor saves Amy late at night, the two form a friendship of two twisted weirdos. But after Taylor robs a bank and Panacea is there, Amy can't forgive what happened or accept that Taylor would choose the Undersiders over her. It's messy.

The hospital smell stays stuck with you. Even if you shower and change clothes, it sticks in your nose, sticks on your skin. It doesn’t matter how much you scrub, the antiseptic and decay, the sweet rot of infection, you can taste it. It slides down the back of your throat. I press my thumb against the bedroom windowsill, feeling the paint chip beneath the nail, flake away in tiny white crescents that scatter across the wood grain. Outside, Brockton Bay falls asleep under the bruise of an evening sky, purple and yellow and sick. My city is sick and I’m already doing too much. But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Taylor hums something on my bed. Again.

She’s just doing that now. Just sits there, long legs folded beneath her, back against the wall, watching me with those dark eyes that seem to notice everything. She’s been doing it for weeks. I think she likes me, but I’m not really… completely sure. She ‘saved’ me a few weeks ago, when I was at a bus stop and some disgruntled idiot tried to hold me at knifepoint. I shiver, thinking of the way a thousand bugs suddenly coated his skin, the way he moaned with pain. He was fine, of course. I made sure of it. 

But ever since then, Taylor’s been my shadow. We met a few more times, on the way home from the hospital, and she unmasked to me, looking at me with unfocused eyes. She looked so dorky, trying to hide that she couldn’t see very well without glasses - I even offered to fix them - but she wouldn’t accept. Vicky thinks it’s awesome I made a new friend. Carol’s still being dumb about everything, and thinks it’s suspicious. Taylor’s dad is completely fine. She doesn’t have anyone else, there’s no reason to get close to me.

Yeah. She has to like me, I guess. I don’t know why.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Taylor says. Her voice is quiet, flat, like she’s reading from a script. I haven’t heard her get excited or mad, she just keeps her voice neutral and soft. I have to strain to hear her sometimes. And now she’s looking at me like she’s waiting for me to answer and shit-

“What thing?” I don’t need to turn around. The reflection shows me enough. She’s tapping her fingers on her knee, one-two-three-four, like little bugs. I’ve watched her do it a hundred times now, this little tell that means she’s thinking too hard about something she’s not enjoying thinking about. That she wants help with, or wants to talk about, but can’t. Won’t.

“That thing where you stare out the window and pretend you’re somewhere else.”

Ugh. “Maybe I am somewhere else.” Good one Amy.

“You’re not.”

I turn. Her baggy hoodie that she likes wearing, covered in stains, and jeans that are equally messy. Her hair, honestly really nice looking hair, black and flowing down her shoulders in waves that she keeps tucking behind her ear. She looks at me through her glasses, and I stare back. She won’t win. I’ve won so many staring contests with Vicky. Mostly because she didn’t realize we were playing, but she doesn’t need to know that.

A fly lands on my nose. I flinch, blinking, and swat at it. A small smile curves at the corner of her lips.

“That’s cheating.”

“I didn’t know there were rules.”

“Fine. I’ll be the adult here.” And instantly she gets defensive. I can see it in her posture, the way her shoulders push up, the way her fingers tighten on her jeans. This is going to suck. “The bank thing. We need to talk about that, Taylor.” I drum my fingers on the windowsill.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she says.

“You put a knife to my throat.”

“I wouldn’t have cut you.”

“Yeah. Like that makes a difference. You held a knife to my throat but totally wouldn’t have cut me. Totally different. My mistake.”

“I wouldn’t have, Amy.”

“Mmm.” I hum. “You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, not robbed the bank? Not let your blonde bitch of a friend shoot my sister?”

“She wouldn’t have hurt her, and you would’ve fixed it if she had.” I press harder against the windowsill. The paint digs into my thumb, sharp enough to hurt.

“She didn’t know that. I didn’t know that, Taylor. You had a choice. You’ve always had a choice. You chose to join them, chose to rob a bank. You chose to take me hostage and scare the shit out of me while Tattletale smirked and made her little jokes.”

“I was protecting you.” Taylor stands up suddenly and we’re too close, close enough I can smell the laundry detergent on her clothes.

“Were you? It was hard to see past the fucking knife at my neck!” I spin around and my voice crack, goes high and childish in a way that makes me want to claw the words back into my mouth. “Did I know that, Taylor? Because from where I was standing, with a fucking knife to my throat, you looked pretty comfortable with your villain friends, playing your villain games, while I had to stand there and watch you pretend you didn’t know me.”

She flinches, then looks upset and sullen again. Good. I want her to flinch. To feel even a fraction of what I felt, watching her be a fucking villain and talking to that blonde bitch after she shot Vicky and… All while I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t even look at her without giving away that I knew her, that I trusted her, that I-

“What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Fine. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m… sorry, Amy. There. Fine. But I did what I had to do, and I’d… I’d do it again if it kept you safe.” She drops back to the bed, looking away from me.

She hasn’t apologized for anything since we’ve been talking. Since that night. She acts like nothing’s her fault, like some self-righteous martyr that the universe has it out for. Like she’s doing everything right. She’s so fucking infuriating. But now she’s sitting there with her shoulders hunched and her hands twisted together and she looks small, breakable, like something I could crush between my fingers if I wanted to.

I… I don’t want to.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” I say, but the anger’s already gone. Fuck. It’s just like being mad at Vicky. “You can’t keep doing this. The Undersiders, the villain thing, it’s- you’re going to get hurt.”

“I can handle myself.”

“That’s not the point you fucking idiot.” I move away from the window, crossing the room to stand in front of her. She has to tilt her head back to look at me, and the angle makes her neck look longer, vulnerable. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out. “The point is that you’re better than this. Better than them. You can be a hero, Taylor.”

“They’re not bad people.”

“They’re criminals.”

“So am I.”

“You don’t have to be.” The words sound fucking pathetic. Desperate. Pleading. I hate myself for it. I hate her. I hate the Undersiders. I hate it. Why do I care? Hate it hate it hate it. I hate that every time I see her I want to hold her and confirm that she’s real, that she’s here that she’s mine-

Except she’s not mine. She’s theirs. The Undersiders, with their stupid crimes and their stupid team and their stupid boss and the stupid Tattletale who makes Taylor smile whenever she talks about her. In a way she never smiles with me.

“I like them,” Taylor says quietly. Her fingers tap again, more anxiously. “They’re my friends. Maybe the only real friends I’ve ever had.”

I grit my teeth to keep from saying something I’ll regret. “What am I, then Taylor?”

“That’s-” She stops. Looks up at me again. “That’s different.”

“Different how?”

She looks away, jaw tight. She swallows. “Just different.” 

I knew it. I knew there was something there. I knew she wouldn’t be mine. I knew there would be a catch, because of course there was. “Tattletale,” I say. The name tastes like poison. “You and her. There’s something there, isn’t there?” Of course there is. I know better.

Taylor’s gaze locks to mine. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because I have eyes. Because I saw how the two of you worked together at the bank. Because every time you mention her, you get this-” I gesture vaguely at her face. “This look.”

“What look?”

“Like she matters.”

The silence stretches. Taylor’s staring at me like there’s something wrong with me for bringing this up. Me. When she’s the one making eyes at the villain. I keep my gaze on her. She won’t get out of this. Not now. Not until I have her.

“Maybe she does,” Taylor says finally. “She’s nice to me. We went to the mall.”

“Then why are you here?” My voice sounds strange, distant. Like it’s coming from underwater. “Why do you spend every night in my room if you’d rather be with her?”

“I never said I’d rather-”

“But you’re thinking it.” I move closer, crowding into her space until she’s pressed up against the wall. She smells like laundry detergent, the cheap kind. “You’re sitting here thinking about her right now, aren’t you? Wishing you were with your criminal team instead of stuck babysitting the healer who can’t even protect herself long enough to-”

“Amy.” Taylor sits up now, fully, getting in my face, and suddenly we’re too close. Close enough I can see the individual threads in her hoodie, the tiny little scar on her chin. “Stop.”

“Stop what? Stop telling the truth? Stop pointing out that you’re wasting your time with me when you could be out there robbing banks and stealing candy and playing dress-up with your villain girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“But you want her to be.” She won’t get out of this. I’ll keep pushing and push and push until something breaks. She’ll break first. She has to, because if I break then-

“I don’t…” Taylor opens her mouth, and closes it again. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?”

“I don’t know!” The words explode out of her, loud enough to make me flinch from how close we are. She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends. “I don’t know! I don’t fucking know, Amy? What do you want from me? She’s smart! She’s cool. We hang out. Am I not allowed to have friends other than you?”

The room tilts. I grab for the edge of my desk, fingers catching on the edge, knuckles white. Taylor’s breathing hard, chest rising and falling beneath the hoodie, and she won’t look at me anymore, won’t meet my eyes. My skin feels like it’s trying to peel from my bones, I just want to reach out and-

“You need to stop.” I know. I know what to say now. “The Undersiders. Tattletale. All of it. You need to stop. Me or them.”

“Amy-”

“I’m serious. You’re smart enough. We can work on a new costume for yourself. You can be, I don’t know, Weaver or Monarch or Queen Bee, or something like that. Or- or something. Something that isn’t this. You’re not going to be a villain anymore. Okay?”

“They need me.”

“I need you!” The words rip out, raw and desperate and I clap a hand over my mouth but it’s too late. Taylor’s staring at me with those wide eyes and I can feel my face burning, heat crawling up my neck and spreading across my cheeks. “I mean- I need you to be safe. To not do stupid villain shit that’s going to get you arrested or killed or worse.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because you’re my friend,” I say instead. “And friends don’t let friends throw away their lives for people who don’t deserve them.” Do or die time, Amy. Woman up. Lean down. “You’re better than this, Taylor. They’re villains. They don’t have loyalty. They don’t have morals. They have convenience and self-interest and the second those stop aligning with you, you’re done. Do you know how many times a villain group implodes and there’s nothing left? When they all turn on each other? I can’t let you-”

Taylor’s eyes search my face. They slide down my own hoodie, one of Vicky’s, and drop to the floor. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“What do you want me to do?”

Victory. It should taste sweeter than this. “Leave them. Call Tattletale right now and tell her you’re done.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Taylor pulls out an old, crappy flip phone, and stares at the screen. She looks back up at me, and I look down at her. Her thumb hovers over the call button. I watch her jaw work, grinding her teeth. I slowly reach down, and press it for her.

“Okay, Taylor.”

The phone rings. Once. Twice. Tattletale’s voice fills my bedroom.

“Hey, T, what’s up?”

“L. I need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay?” A pause. “Sounds serious.”

“It is. I-” Taylor takes a breath. “I’m leaving the team. We talked about this right? I can- I can leave whenever I want?”

The silence on the other end stretches. I can hear my own heartbeat, loud and irregular. Taylor’s jaw is tight.

“Wow,” Tattletale says finally. “Okay. That’s- wow.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” Her voice is sharp. “Or is this someone else’s idea? Yeah. Panacea, little miss sisterfucker is there with you right now, isn’t she?”

Taylor flinches. “Its not-”

“Come on, T.” A rustling sound. “Look. If you want to have this conversation, fine. But we’re doing it face to face. You owe me that much.”

“L-”

“Tomorrow. Mall. That coffee place by the fountain. Noon. Be there.” The line goes dead.

Taylor lowers the phone slowly. Stares at it like it might bite her. When she looks up at me, there’s something lost in her expression that makes my stomach clench. “Well.” She puts the phone in her pocket. “You got what you wanted.”

“Did I?”

“I’m obviously not friends with villains anymore, Amy. Congratulations. You’re my only friend now. Is that what you wanted?”

“I-” My throat tightens. “No. No it isn’t. But you need better friends. Better than villains.”

“Yeah. Fine.” She stands up, moving past me. She opens the door. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Taylor-”

But she’s already gone, footsteps quiet in the hallway, and I’m standing in my room with paint chips scattered on my desk and the taste of bile in the back of my throat. I close the door. Press my forehead against the wood. My power hums beneath my skin, whispering all the ways I could have made that conversation go differently. All the little chemical adjustments I could make to Taylor’s brain to keep her here, to make her want me more than she wants Tattletale, to-

I shove the thought away. Lock it up with all the other impulses. Tomorrow. I’ll fix this tomorrow. I’ll make sure Tattletale doesn’t worm her way back into Taylor’s head. I’ll prove that I'm right, that the Undersiders are poison, that Taylor’s better off without them.

Tomorrow.

---

The mall smells like artificial cinnamon and teenage desperation. I slipped out of school, rode the bus here. Taylor and I met up, but we haven’t said anything. I’m half a step behind her, walking through the crowds, finding the spot that Tattletale wanted to meet at.

“Up ahead,” Taylor murmurs to me, slowing down. She’s probably aware of everyone here. She talked about her power and I don’t think she realizes quite how strong it is yet.

“Yeah.” My fingers are digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. “She’s probably been here for an hour, planning exactly what to say to get you back.”

“She’s not going to. I made my choice.”

“You sure about that?”

Taylor turns around, stopping in the middle of the crowd. “I said I’d leave. It’s what you wanted, right Amy? That’s not changing.”

“Then why are we here?”

“Because L- Tattletale deserves an explanation.” She starts walking again. “Don’t flip out, alright? We’ll talk. I’ll explain it. And then we’ll leave. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

We flow through the crowd, and my heart is hammering against my ribs, irregular and too fast. Taylor’s breathing is perfectly controlled, measured, and I wonder what that’s like. To be so certain. To move through the world without constantly worrying about being a fuckup.

Tattletale’s sitting at a corner when we arrive. She’s out of costume - jeans and a purple top, and her hair’s up in a ponytail, blonde and perfect. She’s smiling. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Taylor,” she says. Then looking at me, “Panacea. Amy. Lovely to see you again.”

‘I’m sure.” I sit down across from her before Taylor can claim the seat. Taylor settles down next to me. “Let’s get it over with. What do you want from Taylor?”

“Wow. Straight to business. I like that about you Amy. Very efficient.” Tattletale leans back in her chair, a smirk on her lips. “Also deeply unpleasant, but hey, nobody’s perfect. We all want to fuck our sisters, right? Oh, wait, no, that’s just you.”

I grit my teeth. “L- Tattletale,” Taylor says. “Please.”

“Please what?” She turns her eyes to Taylor and bats them. “Please be nice to the girl who’s manipulating you into abandoning your team?” Her smile sharpens. “Yeah, I don’t think I will.”

“I’m not manipulating anyone, you conniving bitch.” The words come out through clenched teeth. “Maybe if you didn’t rob a bank and shoot my sister you’d have some moral high ground. Taylor can make her own decisions.”

“Did she, mmm?” She looks back at me, lazily swirling her coffee. “Because from here, it seems like you guilted her into it by crying about how scared you were at the bank.” Tattletale tilts her head. “You told her, mmm, that she was better than us. That she was throwing her life away. That you needed her safe. Am I wrong?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what happened.” Tattletale looks at Taylor. “Am I wrong?”

Taylor’s jaw tightens. She looks between me and her. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Is it though?” Tattletale leans forward. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks pretty simple. Panacea wants you all to herself. She doesn’t like sharing. So she’s isolating you from your friends and making you think it’s your idea.”

“That’s not what this is. I’m leaving because I don’t want to be a villain anymore. Because what we did at the bank was wrong.”

Tattletale looks at Taylor, then her eyes glance toward me for a second, then back on Taylor. “Okay,” she says quietly. “Okay. If that’s how you really feel, then I respect it.”

I blink. “You do?”

“Yeah. I respect Taylor enough to let her make her own decisions without guilting her.” She ignores my sputters and turns back to Taylor. “But you do know this is it, right? No going back?”

“Yeah. Thanks… Tattletale.” Taylor’s quiet.

“Don’t thank me. Just warning you about the consequences of your own actions, sweetie. Just know that I won’t be so nice if we meet on the other side of the mask~” Her voice is charming, like she’s trying to sweet talk Taylor again and-

“God, you’re so full of shit. It’s not fucking cops and robbers, you dumbass.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. This whole ‘caring mentor act’. Pretending like you actually give a shit about Taylor, about how you can break up a villain team and actually be nice and cordial about it. You just don’t want to lose your most powerful member.”

“Amy-” Taylor starts.

“No, let her talk.” Tattletale leans forward. “I want to hear this.”

“You don’t care about her. You care about what she can do for you. Her power. Her potential, all the way she can help you. She’s just a tool that you can use to be a better villain, and what, the second she stops working for you, is the second you’ll drop her. Turn on her. Leave her dead in the bay.”

“That’s not true.” She still has that fucking awful smirk.

“Isn’t it? You’re a villain, Tattletale. Villains don’t have friends.”

Tattletale laughs. It’s not a nice sound. “And what does that make you, Amy? What’s Taylor to you? A project? A trophy? Something to fix so you can feel better about yourself?”

“That’s not-”

“Because let’s be real here. You don’t actually care about Taylor being safe. You care about Taylor being with you.” Tattletale’s voice drops. “You’re terrified she’s going to figure out she doesn’t need you. That she’s better off with people who actually understand her instead of a self-loathing healer with a savior complex and some really, really fucked up ideas about what friendship means.”

“At least I don’t manipulate people for a living,” I say.

“No, you just manipulate them for free.” Tattletale smiles and I want nothing more than to reach over and wipe the smug grin off her face. Leave her convulsing. Let her flesh rot off her bones. It’d be so easy. So, so- “Tell me, how long did it take you to convince Taylor she was a bad person for joining us? How many times did you make her feel guilty for having friends you didn’t approve of?”

“They’re- you’re not her friends. You’re criminals who-”

“Who what? Who gave her a team? Who trained her, supported her, actually cared about her? Yeah, we’re criminals. But at least we don’t pretend to be something we’re not. At least we’re honest about what we want.”

“You’re honest about nothing. Your whole power is reading people so you can lie better. I bet that without your power you wouldn’t even be able to solve a crossword, dumb bitch.”

Tattletale’s smile gets wider. “I’m psychic, little darling healer. I get to see all the little things people are hiding.” She stands, leaning across the table. “Want to know what I see in you, Amy? You’re so fucked up with wanting to fuck your sister, you hate yourself for it so much that you’ve decided to fixate on Taylor so you can pretend you’re not as fucked up as you know you are.”

I’m going to kill her. I’m going to reach up and grab her and dissolve the bonds between her bones and– “That’s-”

“You have all these little fantasies at night of Taylor, turning her blonde and making her look more like Vicky.”

The world goes white. I lunge across the table and Taylor catches me, arms wrapping around my waist, hauling me backward. Tattletale’s smug grin is all I can see and I just need to reach closer and I can fix it and I can hurt her the way she hurt me, make her take it back, make her-

“Amy!” Taylor’s hissing in my ear. “Stop it.”

“You bitch!” I yell at Tattletale instead. “You fucking bitch, how dare you-”

“How dare I what? Tell the truth? Mmm. Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime. Unlike what you want to do to your sister~.”

I’m struggling but Taylor’s grip is iron around my neck and waist. She’s pulling me towards the entrance. People are looking, I don’t give a shit. “At least I help people. I hope you die you fucking cunt!”

Tattletale’s mocking voice follows me and Taylor out of the shop, as Taylor clamps her hand over my mouth. “You help people because you’re terrified of what you’d do if you stopped. Don’t act like you’re better than me when we both know how thin that line is for you.”

The pressure on my mouth is firm, desperate, and I can feel her breath hot against my ear as she drags me toward the exit. I start walking with her, and it’d be so easy to just lock her joints and go back in there and make Tattletale apologize and prove how wrong she is and-

We burst out into the parking lot. Taylor releases me and I stumble forward. My heart is hammering so hard I feel like I’m going to throw up. 

“What the hell was that!?” Taylor’s breathing hard, her face is flushed. “What the fuck was that, Amy?”

“She started it.”

“Holy shit. Oh my god. I am not- What the fuck Amy, are you five?” Taylor runs both hands through her hair, tugging hard. “I asked you to do one thing. One fucking thing, Amy. And you couldn’t even manage that.”

“She was lying to you. She was trying to-”

“To what? Have a civil conversation? Let me leave with some dignity intact?” Taylor’s voice cracks. “You ruined that. You made everything worse. You made me look like-”

She stops. Shakes her head. Starts walking toward the bus stop.

“Where are you going?” My voice sounds small, childish. I’m still breathing hard.

“Home.”

“Taylor, wait.” I run after her, my chest burning, and grab her arm. She stops but doesn’t turn around. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I fucked up. I know I made everything worse, but she- she said those things and I just-”

“She was right though. Wasn’t she?” Taylor’s voice is flat. She looks back at me. “About you manipulating me. About isolating me from my friends.”

The words gut me. I tighten my grip on her arm. “That’s not. No. I wasn’t- I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Amy?”

“Keep you safe. Keep you with me. Keep you from getting hurt or killed or-” The words tumble out, desperate and pathetic. “I just- I want… I want you. I want you to be okay.”

She starts walking again, pulling out of my grip. I watch her go and the panic that rises in my chest chokes me, like my lungs are filling with water. This is it. This is where she leaves. I- I can’t- I- I won’t lose the one thing I actually liked in my miserable life because I couldn’t play nice, couldn’t be anything other than the villain Carol thinks I am.

“Please.” The word comes out broken. “Please don’t leave.”

Taylor stops. She doesn’t turn around. “I’m not leaving,” she says finally. “I’m just. I need a minute. To think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean-” She turns. “Tattletale was right, about a lot of things. Not everything, but some things, right?> And I need to figure out which things before I-” She swallows. “She might still take me back.”

“You’re not going back to them.” 

“I don’t know.” Taylor shoves her hands in her hoodie pockets. “Maybe. Maybe not. I still need to try.”

“But you chose me. You called her. You-”

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, okay?”

“Then I do.” I step forward, and grab her wrists. Her eyes flick up to me. My heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest. “I- I- Taylor, I-”

I kiss her.

She kisses back, just barely, before stepping back, pushing me away slightly.

“Amy, what the fuck!?”

“I like you, fucking idiot! You’re the first person who- I-” I grind my teeth. “I don’t fucking know either!”

“Were you just jealous? Was that what all of this was?” She’s angry now. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.

“No!” I don’t know! Yes? “I was scared for you! I didn’t want you to get hurt! Because…” I look away. She takes a half step forward. “Fuck! I don’t- Ughhhh!” I swing my arms, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do? This is supposed to be when the girl kisses me back! I don’t know what else to do!

“Amy, I- Fuck. I need some time. Okay?”

“Don’t go. Please.” My voice is quiet again. Pathetic.

“Amy-”

“If you go I- I don’t… I like you, Taylor. Please?”

“I- I like you too Amy.” She’s looking at me through those glasses, eyes wide. She still looks angry, but she also looks hurt. Cute. I lean in closer, closing the distance.

“Please don’t go.” I try to kiss her again. She meets me halfway, barely letting me kiss, holding my shoulders.

“I need you to be willing to let me go, Amy. You can’t just- just tell me what the fuck to do.”

“I’m not. I just- please not right now. Please?”

She looks at me for a moment, and something seems to shift in her. She sags slightly, and then she says the most wonderful words I’ve ever heard.

“Okay.”

She lets me kiss her.

Notes:

Hi! I wanted to try to write some Lisa, because she seems like a lot of fun to write, and I really like Pillbug!