VELVETEEN vs. Doctor Darwin #2
The woman on the other side—tall, thin, blonde, everything an organization founded on the idea of pushing superheroes as an aspirational lifestyle brand, something everyone wanted to be and no one could ever quite achieve, could ask for—was wearing a ratty thrift store sweater and a pair of sweatpants with one blown-out knee.
Her short-cropped hair was obviously unbrushed, sticking out in all directions.
She smiled. That, alone, was like coming home.
“Well?” she asked, spreading an arm as if to welcome the other woman inside. “Are you planning to stand out there all night like some sort of weird new garden statue, or are you going to come in? It’s supposed to rain soon.”
“That’s what I was just trying to tell myself,” said Velma, and took a step forward.
After that, it was surprisingly easy to take the next step, and the next, until she was stepping onto the porch, until the other woman was sweeping her into a hug that smelled like fresh soap and lavender lotion.
Velma buried her face in Yelena’s shoulder and closed her eyes, breathing deeply.
“Welcome home, you massive jerk,” said Yelena. “You were gone for way too long.”
Something popped in the house behind them, the sound followed by the acrid smell of smoke and an English-accented voice shouting, “It’s all right, I have a fire extinguisher!”
Velma pushed herself away from Yelena’s embrace and rolled her eyes. “Because there is absolutely no good reason for me to have stayed away, right?”
“Torrey hasn’t burned the house down,” Yelena protested. Then she paused, and added, “Yet. She hasn’t burned the house down yet. But we have excellent insurance, so I’m not overly worried. Are you hungry?”
“Famished,” said Velma, and was surprised to realize that she meant it. She stepped the rest of the way into the living room, leaving Yelena to close the door as she looked around. “New rug.”
“The old one caught fire.”
“New throw pillows.”
“Also fire.”
“Are those new curtains?”
“Actually not fire,” said Yelena. Velma turned to give her a dubious look, and she laughed. “Seriously, not fire. I accidentally disintegrated them with one of my light beams. So I bought new curtains. I like them. The old ones were so fussy.”
“Thankfully, I had no real emotional attachment to the old curtains,” allowed Velma.
“If I’d thought you had, I would have asked Imagineer to replicate us an identical set, and also I would have started seriously questioning your opinions about interior decorating.
I understand ‘everything I own came from a thrift store’ chic.
I do not understand falling in love with curtains that look like they started life as the bad side of a really ugly circus tent. ”
Velma sniffed. “Aesthetic.”
Yelena managed to keep a straight face for a count of ten before she broke down in giggles. “Oh, God, Vel, it is so good to have you home. You have no idea.”
“See, and here I thought you would have enjoyed having the house to yourselves for more than fifteen minutes,” said Velma. Yelena’s cheeks blazed a sudden neon orange. Velma’s eyes widened. “Oh. You really enjoyed having the house to yourselves for more than fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, we really did. I want to thank you again for letting us stay with you, before Torrey gets out here and makes everything all weird.” Yelena cast a fond glance toward the kitchen, cheeks still glowing orange. “She’s so good at being so weird.”
“It’s part of her charm,” said Velma. “And I’m not letting you stay with me: you live here for as long as you want. This is your home the same as it’s mine. I never really did get used to living alone.”
“I don’t think I could handle it,” admitted Yelena.
Velma laughed. “Oh, honey,” she said. “You’re never going to have to.”
* * *
Later that night—after a decidedly surreal supper of roast pork with strawberry sauce, rosemary potatoes, and some kind of dehydrated-rehydrated root vegetable that Torrey insisted was both nutritious and hypoallergenic—Velma sat down on her own bed, in her own bedroom, and looked at her suitcase.
Then, with a sigh, she flopped backward against the pillows and waved her hand.
All over the room, toys came alive. Fashion dolls, stuffed animals, and cartoony trucks with big, friendly eyes and big, friendly smiles moved toward the suitcase.
Velma waved her hand again. The largest of the teddy bears undid the zipper, and the rest of the toys began unpacking the case.
She watched them intently. They put everything away, exactly where it belonged, before returning to their shelves.
All save for a ratty pink stuffed rabbit with one mended ear, which tottered to the foot of the bed and looked up at her with hopeful black button eyes.
“Yeah,” said Velma. “Okay.”
The bunny had no mouth and no throat, and so had to settle for clapping its plush paws together in silent joy before it clambered up into the bed and settled against Velma’s side, giving every indication of absolute contentment.
Velma pulled it absently close, shutting her eyes.
She drifted off to sleep in that position, still cradling the rabbit.
A porcelain doll with a cobweb crack covering half its face turned off the lights, while a battalion of green army men pulled the blankets up over animus and bunny alike. They retreated to the shelves and settled back into stasis, watching over the room, watching over her. Everything was still.
In the living room, Torrey uncorked a bottle of wine and tipped it into two large coffee mugs.
Neither of them had exactly been designed for this purpose, but needs must, and wine glasses were so easily broken.
Not good for a superhero household. “Well,” she said, passing a mug to Yelena. “She’s home.”
“Finally,” said Yelena.
“She looks like a bad stretch of Tartarus, and all of its demons besides,” said Torrey, and took a swig of her wine. “Have her powers returned to normal, do you know? Or should we be prepared to defend her?”
“Does it matter?” Yelena rubbed her temple with her free hand as she swigged from her mug. “She needs us, we’re here. Or at least I am. I won’t presume to speak for you.”
“If you want me here, there’s nowhere else I could dream of being,” said Torrey.
“She isn’t my favorite person, I won’t lie about that, but all the grudges I hold against her are based on another woman, in another world, and I’m clever enough to recognize how unfair that is.
She’s been nothing but kind to me since I fell into this reality.
Of course I’ll help her. To do anything else would be to descend into the kind of cruelty that Epona herself could not forgive, much less my overly-ethical, morally rigid lover. ”
“Thanks, I think,” said Yelena.
Torrey’s expression could never be mistaken for anything but fondness.
“You are the moral star by which I set my inner compass. Please, take my words for nothing but the praise they represent. We’ll care for her as long as we must, and I’ll never regret a minute of it, I swear.
At the same time, if she’s to require care, we need to be aware of that, and be sure she’s looked after. ”
“The Princess says she’s mostly recovered.
Her powers may or may not be back to normal, but her body’s definitely almost there.
” Yelena pursed her lips into a thin, hard line.
“Jack says she had nothing to do with the choices the Seasonal Lands made, and I believe her, but I never thought I’d wind up wanting to beat the living shit out of Santa Claus. Even the idea feels naughty.”
“Then embrace naughtiness, and save your niceness for those who have actually earned it.” Torrey glanced toward Velma’s bedroom door. “She’ll need us to hold her up until she can hold herself. She’ll need you, in particular. She trusts you as she is never likely to trust me.”
“We have history,” said Yelena. “You’ll get there.”
“I am, if nothing else, proof that history can be rewritten,” admitted Torrey. She leaned over to kiss Yelena, and froze as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the house. The two of them exchanged a look, wine and kisses forgotten.
“Vel,” breathed Yelena, and leapt off the couch, trailing rainbow glitter as she raced down the hall to the master bedroom.
She wrenched the door open to reveal a broken window and toys scattered all across the floor, as if they had been cast aside by the hand of a careless child.
Torrey crowded in behind her, both of them staring.
Then Torrey planted a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her forward. “Go,” she commanded. “I’ll get my guns and my bike and be right behind you. Best you follow while the trail is hot.”
“What if you can’t find us?” Yelena asked.
“I planted a tracking device on you ages ago. Go.”
Yelena nodded and threw herself into the air, a rainbow of pure prismatic light streaking behind her as she took to the sky. Torrey watched her for barely a second, making sure that nothing smacked her out to the ground. Then she turned and ran for the back door.
She was going to need a lot of guns. She could already tell.
* * *
Yelena soared across the neighborhood, pressing a button on the side of her “watch” as she flew.
Had anyone looked up at that moment, they would have been treated to the sight of her clothes dissolving, leaving her naked as a jaybird for a count of five before her costume unfurled from the micro-containment unit, slithering over her in a wash of oilslick blackness.
The last thing to appear was the rainbow sash around her waist, and Yelena was no longer in the sky: Polychrome had taken her place.