Archive of Our Own

Victoria Dallon lays on her bedroom floor and stares up at the ceiling despondently. 

"I wish I had powers," Victoria mutters to herself. Her voice almost breaks, but is too tired to do even that. She repeats herself, a dull drone that echoes in her head and in her heart. It's a familiar mantra, and has worn a rut in her mind over years and years.  

"I wish I had powers."

Eric, her cousin, just got his own powers last week. He can fly and shoot lasers and the rest of New Wave is already working on designing him a costume and fitting him into team dynamics. It feels unfair. 

"I wish I had powers."

She's the only member of the family without powers. She's known – thought – her whole life that she'd get powers since her family has powers. She wants it most of all, more than anything and more than anyone, but her powers just won't come. Eric is three years younger than her, for fuck's sake, and he's not even excited about getting them. 

He's getting everything Victoria ever wanted and barely seems to care. He can do all these awesome things and is finally a real part of the family, and yet he snarled at Victoria when she – bitterly – congratulated her cousin. 

Victoria knows that getting powers is hard and that it hurts – her parents sat her and Amy down years ago to explain, briefly, what trigger events are –  but it's not fair . Eric's already gone through the hard stuff now. It's passed. He's already triggered, so why isn't he at all happy to have the powers Victoria so desperately craves? Even if getting them hurts, powers are cool enough to be more than worth it — They have to be.

"I wish I had powers," Victoria murmurs for the umpteenth time. She feels empty. 

There's a knock on her bedroom door, which opens a moment later. A mousy little sister pokes her head through the crack. 

"Vicky? You okay?" Amy asks. 

Victoria just frowns up at the ceiling, and Amy sighs. She steps inside and closes the door behind her, then ambles over and lays down next to Victoria. She doesn't say anything, simply trying to comfort her sister with her presence; she doesn't know what she could say to make her feel better. This is a too common occurrence, and any words she's ever attempted have failed to soothe or improve, so silent presence is all she has left. 

"It's not fair," Victoria finally voices, minutes later. Amy prompts her to continue, so she does. "Eric. He has powers, but it's like he doesn't even care. He finally gets to be a part of New Wave and he isn't even excited. He can fly and…"

"Yeah," Amy says. "But, he did just trigger last week. He'll probably get more excited after some time has passed."

Vicky grunts, conceding the point. It doesn't improve her mood at all. "It's just. I'm older than he is, and I want it so much more than he ever has. It's not fair he gets to be a hero before I do."

"I'm sure it'll happen. Just give it time," Amy hedges. It feels weird to promise Victoria such pain. 

"But I want to be a hero now . I wanna trigger and join the team and do stuff ," Vicky whines. Suddenly, an idea occurs to her. She sits up excitedly and stares at a surprised Amy as her mind whirrs. "What if…"

"What?" Amy asks after a few seconds. 

"You love me, right?" 

"Yeah?" Amy answers uneasily, sitting up to mirror Victoria. She loves her sister more than she should, and more than she'll ever let anyone know.

"And you'd do anything for me, right?"

"What's this about?"

"Just. You'd help me if I asked, right?" Victoria pressures.

"Of course. Now what are you talking about?" Amy asks again, concerned. 

Victoria takes a deep breath, then voices her idea. "Would you help me trigger?"

Amy stares blankly for a moment, not understanding, then recoils. "What?! No!"

"Ames, please. Please. Just hear me out, okay?"

Amy folds her legs to her chest and stares at Victoria. She's listening, only because of the raw and naked desperation in Victoria's voice, and for that Victoria flashes her a smile. 

"I need to get powers. I know it's not fun, and that you have to go through something traumatizing to get them, but I can't stand it. I can't keep going on like this, Ames. You, and Crystal, and Eric now all get to go out and make a difference and I'm just stuck doing nothing and– I can't. I can't. I feel like I'm barely a part of the family. Nothing I do matters and I just. I need this, Ames. I need to have powers, and every day that goes by and I don't trigger the less likely it is that I'll ever trigger and I can't– I can't have this be the rest of my life, Ames. I'll do anything it takes; I don't care."

"Anything?" a stunned Amy parrots. 

Victoria leans forward into Amy's personal space. Her hands bracket Amy's feet, and her crazy eyes bore into Amy's. The desperation and fear on display stops Amy from even noticing how Victoria's collar opens to show casual cleavage. 

" Anything ," Victoria repeats, scaring Amy. 

Amy breaks eye contact and shrinks in on herself further. She picks at one of the many scabs that've taken up a permanent residence on her wrists. If she weren't publicly known as Platelet, people would likely be concerned she cuts herself. As is, they all know she cuts herself, and they all cheer her on.

"Please, Amy. I need your help."

"…You don't know what you're asking," Amy demurs. 

"I do," Victoria denies. "I know that I'm– I'm pretty much asking you to torture me. I know that. I know it's going to be awful and I'm going to hate it, but…" She shakes her head, agony writ plain across her face. "I can't imagine anything worse than living like this. I can't go on. I can't keep living like this if this is all I have. I'd rather just kill myself and get it over with."

But for the quiet whir of the ceiling fan, the room is silent following the suicidal declaration. Amy stares at her sister with dawning comprehension, and terror. To imagine Victoria gone from her life is to imagine a life devoid of purpose. Victoria is half the reason Amy fights as a hero, and most of the reason Amy returns home afterward. 

"It won't work," Amy finally mumbles. "If you're trying to trigger, it doesn't work."

Victoria sits back down, leaving Amy's personal bubble, and bites down her smile. She knows she's got Amy now. Amy's pointing out practical issues and not dismissing her out of hand. Practical issues can be addressed and worked around. Amy can be convinced — Victoria just has to do it right. 

"So we just have to do it in a way I'm not expecting," Victoria answers. 

Amy frowns. She picks her scab too hard, and fresh blood wells. Before gravity can touch it, Amy pulls the blood up to swirl in her palm: an idle thing she does with her powers when she's thinking hard about something. It's an idle thing that makes Victoria's guts squirm with envy. Noticing this, Amy lets it drop, staining her red long-sleeve so it doesn't dry into a stain elsewhere. She goes back to picking at her scabs.

"How would I even…?" Amy asks.

"You have to hit me when I'm not expecting it. Catch me when my guard is down," Victoria explains like it's easy. 

"I can't just hit you, though. You don't trigger from just a couple punches," Amy snaps, unsure if she's angry at Vicky or the world. If only that were all it took. 

"I meant 'hit' like in a general sense," Victoria explains. "Like, do the thing you gotta do to hurt me when my guard is down."

Amy huffs. "Vicky, this is so fucked up. You're asking me to hurt you. I don't– I don't want to hurt you, Vicky."

"I know. You're a good sister, Ames," Vicky says, "but I need you for this. I don't know who else I could ask. No one else would take me seriously, and I need this. I'd rather die than live like this."

"You can't— You can't threaten to kill yourself if I don't torture you!" Amy snaps at her, angry and hurt. 

Victoria's only defense is a tired half of a shrug. They both know that what Victoria's asking for isn't okay. What she's asking is fucked up, and what she's threatening is even more fucked up, but Victoria just doesn't care enough to not ask it anyway. Or rather, she cares so much about having powers that anything else is a secondary concern at best.

Amy's anger flees in the face of this determined apathy and dying hope. Her shoulders slump and she glares sullenly at the ruddy brown spot on her sleeve: a spot of vivid life that's died and gone dull without Amy's attention. She's always had trouble saying no to Victoria – it's not pity, not exactly, but she likes her sister and it's hard to not indulge someone who has so little going for them – and this is unfortunately no different.

"Fine," she says, defeated. "Fine, I'll— I'll do it."

Victoria launches herself at her sister, hugging and thanking her. A momentary smile visits Amy's face, but it exits stage left pursued by a deal with the devil as they begin to plot particulars. 

^U^

Victoria wakes up in a panic, trying and failing to cry out for help, flailing against something her brain hasn't had time to consider. She bucks, but the weight on her hips doesn't budge. Her hands grab and claw at the hands encircling her throat. Her eyes, blurry from sudden tears, stare up at the person straddling her, and her brain finally puts together that her sister is choking her.

Amy presses her weight onto Victoria's neck with a terrified and miserably pathetic expression as she gives her all to choking the life out of her sister. Victoria's fingernails break through the skin on Amy's forearms, but not a drop of blood is spilt. Victoria flails underneath her, and those flails quickly lose their desperate vigor. 

Victoria's hand presses weakly against Amy's face, a final, ineffectual shove as her vision dims and spots. As her panic falls to deoxygenation, the reverberating and screaming Why?! in her head quiets and she remembers: powers. 

Maybe this… will… be… enough…

…

Her vision returns, hitting her like a truck alongside the air suddenly allowed into her lungs with a great, heaving gasp. Amy backs away, dismounting Victoria and retreating to the foot of the bed to rub at her teartracked face. 

Her sister coughs and gasps, protectively holding her own hands around her neck. She pushes away from Amy until her back is pressed against the headboard, and after she's assured herself she's able to breathe and will be able to continue breathing, she rubs her own face clean of tears and snot with her pajama shirt's sleeve.

As her breathing calms further, she becomes able to hear Amy repeating "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" in a hoarse whisper. She's shaking. 

Victoria coughs one last time, for now, and forces her voice into shape to ask, "Why'd you stop?"

Amy falls quiet and stares at Vicky with terror-wide, uncomprehending eyes. She mouths her sister's words back at her as if trying to discern their meaning through feel and taste where hearing alone failed. 

"Why did I stop?" she finally vocalizes. "You— You stopped moving . You passed out."

"Barely," Victoria rasps. She reaches for her water bottle on the bedside table and takes a few sips. "I'm not sure I actually went unconscious."

Amy sniffles. 

Victoria clicks her tongue, then winces at the discomfort that came with it. "It's fine. There's always next time."

"'Next time'...?" Amy parrots.

"It didn't work, so yeah, next time," Victoria says as easily as a recent strangulation victim can. She rubs absently at her still aching neck and reassures herself again that she can breathe. "You know, when I said 'catch me off guard' I didn't think you'd do this ."

"You— But you suggested choking," Amy hurries to point out in her own defense. "And— And this was the— When you're asleep you can't guard so I thought— I didn't— I…"

"No, no, it was –" Victoria's painful cough interrupts her reassuring. She sips more water. "You did good. This was good," she resolutely lies. 

"You're not mad? You don't hate me?" Amy asks, and Victoria shakes her head. 

"How could I hate you when you're helping me get powers?" Victoria asks easily. 

Amy is far from convinced or comforted, so Victoria makes herself move over to sit next to Amy. She slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her comfortingly close. Amy is stiff, but slowly relaxes as Victoria assures her she didn't just irreparably ruin their sisterhood. 

A few minutes later, Amy works up her own resolution. She will do anything it takes to keep her sister from suicide. Even if she hates what she is going to do, she'll do it: for Victoria. And so she promises, "Next time… I'll do it better, next time."

The seed of dread in Victoria's gut is ignored. How could Victoria dread this, how could she fear this, when this is what she wants more than anything? At least, that's what she tells herself. Rationalism isn't a cure for fear, but it makes for a great plaster. 

"That's what I like to hear. Love you, Ames," Victoria says. 

^U^

Over the next fortnights, Amy does her best to hurt her sister. Every moment the two girls are alone – and that Amy can work up the nerve and grit – is occupied by Amy hurting Victoria. She smacks the back of Victoria's head while she's watching tv, punches her in the leg to maintain a Charley horse for a week straight, strangles her awake in the middle of the night and keeps her awake for the rest of it, shoves her to the ground in the backyard for hours and threatens to drown her in blood if she cries out for help. 

The tortures range from petty to dangerous, but they are unrelenting.

Every time Amy tries to back off, to check in, to try to convince Victoria to stop, Victoria assures her that she wants this, that learning to flinch at shadows and waking up thrashing at spectres is a price she is absolutely willing to pay. Victoria won't stand for a moment of rest; that Amy keeps trying to pump the brakes makes her madder than anything she's actually doing. To Victoria, powers are everything, and that means that everything else may as well be nothing: her kingdom for a laser beam. 

Damningly, Mark and Carol notice neither Victoria's burgeoning skittishness nor the bruises and marks hidden under makeup and clothes. They are too concerned with their jobs, their heroics, and their own issues to see beyond the surface level of their daughters' lives. It's nothing new. When a family shines so brightly, it's inevitable the shadows are deep. 

And so Amy learns to harden her heart and ignore her sister's tears and sobs. Amy learns to become frustrated by her sister's thrashing and resent her for the fearful looks given. Amy learns a new dimension to the idea of 'acts of service.' She learns a whole new way to show her love. Worst of all, Amy learns that she doesn't hate this. 

She doesn't hate holding her sister down and spitting in her face. She doesn't hate hearing her beautiful sister's pathetic whimpers. She doesn't hate seeing Victoria's face scrunch up in ways previously unimaginable. She especially doesn't hate becoming increasingly sure that she could do anything to Victoria without actually upsetting her sister. Victoria has assured her that, no matter what, she can't hate her more than Amy already hates herself, and there is something freeing in that. 

And so one night, when Victoria lays in bed after throwing up most of her mildly poisoned dinner, still feeling miserable and woozy, Amy gets an idea for not the first time. She watched Victoria after dinner to make sure she's just the right level of in pain and imperiled – not so hurt as to necessitate intervention, but not so unhurt as to necessitate intervention – and she watches Victoria now from her spot on the bed next to her. 

Victoria sweats as she rides out the lingering effects of whatever Amy slipped into her food. Amy can't help but notice how Victoria's shirt sticks to her with sweat, and for once, she lets herself seriously consider that idea that's been just barely out of the forefront of her mind for almost four years now. It's fucked up – of course it is – but right now Amy has an excuse, a reason, and an invitation. And Victoria's promised again and again that no matter what she won't hate Amy for whatever happens. By some metrics, she's already forgiven Amy for worse. 

And so Amy Dallon reaches out, and she lays a hand on her sister's shoulder. Victoria's mind and body still in preparation for whatever horrible thing is about to happen. She's come to expect pain or choking, which is why she's confused when Amy's hand moves not to her neck, but to her chest. Amy cups her sister's breast, and Victoria's brain has to reboot. 

When Amy squeezes, gently and almost reverently, Victoria stutters, "Uh, Ames? Wh-what are you doing?"

"You asked for this," Amy whispers. She doesn't remove her hand. 

"Ames, I don't—" Victoria tries to sit up, but dizziness takes her head and she collapses back onto the bed, blinking away spots. She grabs at Amy's hand to push it away, but Amy grabs her wrist with her free hand; when Victoria tries again with her other hand, Amy grabs it too.

She runs her own hand through them both, activating her breaker state to leave a streak of durable, coagulated blood behind: a chunk of ruddy brown scab to act as cuffs. She pins Victoria's wrists to the headboard and affixes them the same way. 

Victoria's heart is hammering, her sweat is pouring, and her world is spinning. In this moment she doesn't know what Amy has planned or how far she'll go, and Victoria is terrified. 

Amy's pulse is loud in her ears, her pits are beginning to sweat, and her world has shrunk to a pinpoint. She's barely able to believe this is happening. She's wanted this for years: not like this , but if this is all she can have and still have a sister in the end, then she'll take it. 

Amy gently gropes her sister's breasts, and her breath grows heavy. She swallows as she feels the forbidden fruits, first one, then the other. It's over shirt and bra, and Victoria is a sweaty mess, but this is still by far the most erotic moment Amy has ever experienced: the taboo, the excuse, the feel of her sister's tits, the way she could go as far as she wants and no one would stop her. 

She removes her hand to push Victoria's shirt up and out of the way, bunching it above her breasts, and she comes face to tit with Victoria's bra: a functional, white thing that's totally unsuited to the things Amy is doing, but somehow that only makes it hotter. 

"Ames, Ames stop, I'm serious. This isn't, this isn't okay. You need to stop," Victoria groans painfully. 

It makes Amy hesitate, but she pushes past it. Victoria's gotten too mad at her for stopping early too many times for Amy to listen now. So she doesn't stop. She ignores Victoria's pleading and prays to any gods listening that Victoria will later say this is okay. 

Amy pushes the bra up out of the way too and burns the image of her sister's naked tits into her brain. Her eyes trace their swell and take in the size of her areolae and shape of her nipples. They're not the perfect breasts Amy's shamefully imagined late some sleepless nights — These tits are so much better: real and here, flushed and wet with sweat that Amy wants to imagine is from excitement. 

The whispered begging for her to stop and the scared, wild look on Victoria's face cuts that fantasy down immediately. Still, Victoria's chest is bare and she is helpless under Amy, and with the excuse of consent baked in, Amy touches what she's longed for for so long and shudders with the weight of her action. 

When she brushes her thumb over her sister's nipple, she realizes for certain that there is no going back. Victoria tenses and lets out a little hiss of air: sensitive. Amy does it again, being supremely gentle as she forces herself onto her sister and pulls scraps of pleasure out of Victoria's unwilling body. 

Amy has known there was something wrong with her for as long as she can remember. She's never really come to terms with that or made peace with herself. She was never able to nail down why, exactly, she's bad. But right now, in this heady euphoria, she's found some piece of an answer to the question "What is wrong with Amy Dallon?" 

Victoria is crying, right in front of her, and Amy can feel herself getting wet. 

Victoria sucks in a breath and cries out, "MO—" but the rest is swallowed up by her sister's mouth on hers. Amy kisses the words away, forcing her tongue into Victoria's, making her sister freeze again as Amy plunders her mouth. Amy hadn't planned to kiss her but she can't let Victoria call for help, can't let her cry out and bring their parents into this. She can't let Victoria ruin this for herself. 

Victoria keeps trying to push her sister off or pull away, but she isn't allowed the option of escape. She wants this to stop; she wants to be anywhere but here, doing anything but this. In the desperate, horrified corner of her mind, she'd rather have her mom yell at her for jumping off the roof again.

That's why this has to work. Victoria can't imagine anything worse than being raped by her sister, which means that surely it must be working. Surely this has to end soon — It'll work, she'll trigger from how awful this is, and it'll stop. Amy will stop. Things will go back to normal, but better, after she triggers.

So Victoria goes limp and lets it happen. She stops trying to get Amy's tongue out of her mouth, stops trying to free her hands or buck her hips to force Amy away, stops trying to push away through the bed to escape. She holds herself still even though her world is spinning and warping in painful, confusing ways, and she lets Amy have her way with her. 

Minutes later, Amy pulls back. Her hands leave Victoria's body, the ruddy restraints crumble, and she scoots back to make some distance. 

Her sister doesn't move, not immediately; a few seconds pass, and Victoria realizes it's actually over. She rolls onto her side and curls into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. She looks pitiful. Amy hates herself for thinking her tear tracked face is hot. 

Amy lays her hand on Victoria's back, ignores the way she tenses up, and starts to rub reassuringly. Victoria starts to sob. It's over, for now, and despite Amy being the source of the pain, Victoria can't help but find comfort in the firm hand on her back. After a few minutes, the sobbing and the rubbing both stop. Amy stands and leaves, and Victoria is simultaneously grateful and saddened. 

Amy returns about ten minutes later with a glass of water, some Tums, and a couple ibuprofen, setting the meds to the side and helping Victoria drink what she can only hope is water and just water. Despite her concerns, Victoria drinks. She doesn't much have another choice, not when she takes her first sip and realizes how thirsty she is. Plus, tonight was only the third time Amy's poisoned her; she wouldn't do it again so soon. 

When half the glass has been ingested, Amy sets it aside as well and retakes her seat on the bed next to Victoria. She sits far enough away to not crowd her sister, but close enough to have her hand return to rubbing Victoria's back. For a while, they just sit like that. 

"Sorry," Amy eventually murmurs. 

While she was downstairs getting water, it hit her in full what exactly she did. She raped her sister. She did what she's always dreamed of doing, and it was amazing and it was terrible. She forced herself onto her sister and did whatever she wanted and enjoyed it. Sure, she had permission, sorta, but that doesn't make her actions not evil. 

"It's fine," Victoria reflexively says. She sits up, and Amy's hand falls away. 

"You mean… you didn't mind?"

"I…" Victoria trails off. 

It wasn't okay, not in the least, and of course she minds — Is Amy insane, asking that? Who in their right mind wouldn't mind their sister sexually assaulting them?! Victoria wants to tell her off, to snap at her and rage and make her know that that was the furthest thing from okay, but… But then she thinks about never triggering. She thinks about a future where she does put her foot down and stops this, here and now. She thinks about staying forever as she is now: powerless, irrelevant, and easily forgotten. 

As hellish and scary as her sister going beyond the pale and moving so far out of the bounds of sisterhood was, the alternative is an abyss of despair that threatens to swallow her whole. To back out now would make worthless what she's already gone through. She hates what she's going to say, but that only means she has to say it more. 

"I hated it," Victoria whispers tightly, unknowingly breaking her sister's heart anew. Amy had stupidly hoped that, somehow, Victoria did like it. "I hated that so much, Amy. I can't— I can't even tell you—" Her breath hitches, and she sniffles. "That's why it's good. That's why you— you– have to—"

Amy doesn't need her to finish. "I… I don't know if I can."

Victoria glares at her, suddenly, hellishly furious. "Don't— Don't you stop. Don't you— If you back out on this, I will never forgive you."

Amy crumples under the fury of her sister's words. She hates this, but still she caves and gives her sister what she wants. She loves her sister, and she will do anything to keep her. 

"If you're sure," Amy says, "then… okay." 

Victoria jerks her head in an impression of a nod, and they both sit in the quiet: quiet but for Victoria's ragged breathing and returned sniffles. Victoria tries to forget what just happened and what she just asked for more of, while Amy does the exact opposite. She has permission now, explicitly, to touch her sister again: to go further, even. She shouldn't be so excited by the prospect. 

"How did you even think of that?" Victoria asks when she's calmed down enough again. "Like… why ?"

"Well, what we were doing wasn't working," Amy says with a lame shrug. She doesn't think she's lying when she says, "It just… I don't know, it didn't feel like enough, somehow," but she can't dismiss the idea she subconsciously made this feel necessary. "It was too… A trigger is way more messed up than someone pushing you around and hurting you for a while. If that's all it took…"

"…I would've triggered a long time ago," Victoria sighs. Amy shrugs. "So, this was just the most messed up thing you could think of?"

"Short of ripping off a limb or kidnapping you into the wilderness? Yeah. Pretty much."

"…I probably would have preferred those, honestly."

"You'd rather be a cape without arms?" Amy teases. It's a desperate joke, more a cry for a hint of normalcy, but it brings a flicker of a smile to Victoria's lips. Lips that I've kissed , Amy remembers with a flush of shame and inappropriate joy. 

"Sure. I'd probably get some cool phantom limb power, or plasma arms, or the power to make tinkertech arms."

"Tinkertech arms? That's… a lot lamer than what you usually come up with."

"Heh. Yeah, it would be pretty lame, but I think I could make it work."

"Oh for sure," Amy agrees easily. "You could definitely make it work. You'd probably figure out how to do more with just that than the rest of the team combined can do, smart as you are."

"Heh. It would be cool to be a tinker: come up with cool gadgets and make some stuff to help out the rest of the team." If she doesn't get the power to fly, being a tinker would be her second choice, in a hypothetical world where one's choices matter. 

"That'd be really cool. What kind of stuff would you want to make? I know it's hard to guess what you even could make if you were a tinker, but…"

A wistful, not quite sad smile finds its way back home on Victoria's face as she talks about the cooler and more interesting pieces of tinkertech she's read about, fantasizing aloud about what to do with powers — It's a mournful, yearning monologue, but powergenning has always been a favorite activity of hers. 

Despite – or maybe because of – what Amy's done, she wants so much to see genuine smiles adorn her sister's face. So she prompts Victoria and asks questions in the right places, just to see the gleam in her eyes as she imagines having powers. All the while, Amy's hand stays on Victoria's back: a reassuring presence that nonetheless helps along her own fantasies: not of the end of things, but of the next step. 

^U^

Time passes. Victoria remains powerless, and so things escalate. Sexual violence is much easier to hide than beatings and chokings, and so it becomes more prevalent — Victoria grows quieter, and Amy grows bolder. 

Amy shoves her against the hall wall and forces her tongue into Victoria's mouth as soon as their parents' bedroom door shuts; she wakes her sister with one hand on a boob and the other over her mouth; she steals all of her sister's underwear one day and refuses to give it back, calling her a slut for going without; with a threatening look and a chillingly gentle hand on her shoulder, she keeps Victoria in the school's gym locker room after the other girls have left, presses her against the lockers and molests her under her shorts while whispering in her ear about how if someone comes back in and sees, she'd probably ask them to join in — "After all, you're already such a whore, getting me to do this."

Victoria hates it, hates every second, hates thinking for even a second that Amy's words aren't total crap. She gets nauseous when she has to remind herself that she did ask for this terrible, violent intimacy. She tries to not think on why Amy has been so readily providing — There are no good answers to that question. 

The bags under her eyes require more and more effort and makeup to hide for every night she doesn't sleep through. Her grades slip, and she's already trying to figure out ways to forge her report card so her parents don't figure out what she and Amy have been doing; they've finally commented on how jumpy and nervous she's been, but rather than question it, her mom just told her she needs to "lay off the caffeine and stop browsing forums so late at night." That dismissal left Victoria feeling hollow. 

Victoria has spent most of her life feeling excluded – from her family for being unpowered, from her peers for being sorta famous, from her basketball teammates for somehow being both commandeering and unserious about the sport – but never before that moment had she felt so unseen and alone. It'll get better when she has powers; she has to hold onto that idea. 

Amy, meanwhile, doesn't hate this as much as she had expected. Her guilt isn't the muscle she once thought it to be, strengthened by daily exercise, but instead a rash, soothed by a balm of pleasure and heady power. The more she molests her sister, the quieter the voice in her head whining about the wrongness of it all becomes. She's stopped checking in with Victoria every so often, stopped asking if Victoria's okay after fucking her, stopped getting bitched at for questioning her sister's resolve. 

She's doing this for her, after all, and that must make it okay. Amy would never have done anything like this without a good reason. Amy's twisted desires would have remained unacted upon if Victoria hadn't asked her to do it, if Victoria didn't tell her she wants it, if it wasn't to help Victoria. She's committed, and so is Victoria, so Amy won't listen when her sister tells her to stop; she only ever does that when Amy's fingers are buried in her snatch, anyway. 

^u^

"…Emergency numbers are on the fridge; there are leftovers in the fridge and money for takeout if you need. If you need to talk to us for whatever reason, our phones will be on at all times," Carol says, fixing her jacket and double checking that she has everything she needs. 

"Maybe give your aunt or uncle a ring before us," Mark jokes as he finishes packing the car. He earns a mild scowl from his wife for the joke, but privately she agrees with the sentiment. 

It's been six years since they've had a chance to actually celebrate their wedding anniversary with more than sentiment and quiet sex, but their daughters are old enough to be left at home for a weekend, and they're sure enough that if anything does happen, Amy will protect her sister from harm. So, finally, they can go out for a weekend, get away from it all, and remind themselves why they tied their lives to each other's. 

Carol returns her gaze to her daughters standing in the front door and shoves off with a "Be good. And no parties, " she repeats for the third time since her and Mark's plans were made. 

"Don't worry, Carol, we'll have a quiet weekend," Amy reassures. 

When Carol glances her way, Victoria mumbles an agreement. 

Carol frowns at the withdrawn and subdued response. She remembers Victoria being more boisterous. She used to smile more, and never stopped jumping into things regardless of whether she belongs or not, but she's seemed sullen and lethargic as of late. She wonders when that started, and if it's anything to worry about.

"Carol, honey, we gotta get going if we want to make it to the city before traffic gets bad; it's a five hour drive," Mark says, hurrying her along. 

Carol nods at him, says her final goodbyes, and gets in the passenger seat, planning to nap when they hit the highway and she can stop navigating for a while. Honestly, she's looking forward to sleeping in as much as she is the Broadway show and fancy dinner. 

Carol puts Victoria's possible problems out of her mind as the car gets going. Victoria might have just had a bad night's sleep, or is having boy troubles; she's a teenager, after all, and childhood comes with small matters like that. 

^u^

As soon as the car is on the street, Amy's hand snakes down to the curve of Victoria's ass. Victoria doesn't bother flinching as her sister pulls her inside and closes the front door. 

Amy leans in and whispers, "A whole weekend to ourselves, and I know just how we can spend it. Don't worry, I know you'll like it even more than I will," before starting to mouth her ear.

Victoria knows that hungry, teasing, condescending tone — How couldn't she, when it's haunted the brief stints of sleep she's caught over the last few weeks? It adds another pebble to the pile of dread that sits heavy in her stomach and fills her hollowed center; sometime in the last week, that dread got weighty enough to tip some undefinable scale within Victoria, and the hell of her life has become supercritical. 

"Amy, stop," Victoria says with as much force as she can. 

It's not much, honestly, but she puts her hands on her sister's shoulders and pushes – gently : not enough to make Amy feel challenged – and wonder upon wonders, Amy stops licking and nibbling on her ear. She even moves her hand from Vicky’s butt to her hip, which should not feel like as much of a victory as it does. 

"What's up?" Amy asks. 

"I—" Victoria's throat is tight, but she forces the prepared words out, keeping her voice measured and even. "I don't want this anymore. It's been months since you— since… it all started, and it's not working. I haven't triggered, and if I was going to, I would have last week, when—" Her voice catches. "When you…"

"…'When we tried anal'?" Amy guesses, and Victoria nods. Amy clicks her tongue. "That wasn't that bad. I used lube."

Victoria takes a deep breath and smothers the part of her that wants to cry out and deny Amy's claim — It was that bad. Victoria still doesn't feel clean, and she's not sure she ever will. Victoria continues her prepared speech,

"And I don't think I even can trigger. I've never had a brain scan, so we don't even know if I have a corona, so it could be that I'm incapable of it. Being part of a powered family makes triggering more likely, but it's not a guaranteed thing. I might never trigger, and— And I'm okay with that. I've come to terms with that," she tells herself, "so I think… We need to stop."

"You want to stop," Amy repeats as if not understanding. 

"Yes."

"And you're okay never getting powers? Never triggering? Never getting to be a hero and save people?"

She's not. Victoria's not okay with that at all. She wants powers no less than she ever did, but she cannot stand for this to continue a moment longer. So Victoria nods and admits she'd rather be powerless than raped.

"…I see," Amy says in a dull voice.

The vice around Victoria's throat loosens and she takes her first easy breath in a month. "Thank you," she says. "I know what I said before, and– and I… appreciate you helping me out," she lies, trying to manifest it as truth, "but I just want to put this behind us. I just want to forget about this whole thing."

"Okay. I understand," Amy says in that same empty voice. 

Somehow, and for reasons Victoria does not, has not, and will not examine, Amy's dismay makes Victoria feel bad. Just a little bit. She wishes she never learned the truth of how much her sister wants to fuck her – she's liked it far more than could be explained away by duty to her sister, or going along with Victoria's wishes – but she knows, now.

Victoria tries to not hold it against Amy. It's wrong to be into your sister, sure, but it's no more wrong than asking your sister to rape you for a chance at powers. It seemed so simple and easy, all those months ago: get trauma, then get powers. But this ? This isn't what she expected, and it isn't worth it. Powers aren't worth this.

In the back of her head, there is a tiny piece of her that still thinks – expects, even – that somewhere down the line, she may still trigger. She hasn't fully given up on getting powers: only on getting powers from Amy raping her. It still, somehow, might happen, and Victoria has learned to not want to hasten their coming. 

"I understand," Amy repeats, suddenly shoving Victoria back against the wall, "that you think you still have a choice here."

"Ah– Ames, wh-what are you—" Her voice is stolen by Amy's thigh pushing between her legs and grinding her core against it. Her sister looks at her with devouring, jealous eyes. 

" I understand , that you're getting cold feet. But what you need to understand, is that I'm not going to stop just because you're getting cold feet. I told you I'd help you, so that's what I'll do." Her hand slides off her hip and back to her ass, and she gives a squeeze.  

"Amy, I'm– I'm– I'm serious. I'm calling this off and you need to mmf—" Victoria is interrupted this time by a sudden kiss. Amy backs off enough to smile in a way that is far too friendly and caring for the situation. 

"I hear what you're saying, but I know what you really mean, and I'm not going to abandon you halfway through. So don't worry, I won't stop until you've got your powers, no matter what. I promise." 

Victoria stares at her, stupefied by her sister's patronizing words. She does nothing as her sister pulls loose the drawstring to Victoria's sweatpants and slides her hand in to molest Victoria's bare pussy; Victoria barely notices, and only in a distant sort of way. Vaguely, she hears her own breath catch and her sister comment on how much of a slut she is, like usual, but it's like she's watching it all happen on tv. 

It's not supposed to happen like this. This isn't what Victoria planned. Calling it off before Amy started to rape her was supposed to make her listen. She's not supposed to ignore Victoria this time . 

Her own orgasm catches her off guard and yanks her back into her body, barely a few minutes after Amy started touching her. Against her will, she gasps and shakes as Amy's fingers rub gently along her vulva, leading her through the pleasure, and Victoria's forced to lean on her rapist just to stay standing. 

"That's right," Amy purrs, "come for me, baby. You liked that, didn't you?"

Victoria tries not to, staring at Amy's collar and trying to think of anything other than the coerced pleasure her body is feeling. She flinches when Amy's voice gets cold. 

"Hey. I asked you a question."

"Y-yeah," Victoria stutters as her orgasm finishes winding down. 

She wishes she were lying. She doesn't want these violations to feel good, but somewhere along the way Amy learned Victoria's body and how to play it better than any of Victoria's previous boyfriends. Around Amy's expert hand, she comes more and comes harder than she thought was possible outside of porn. She hates it.

"You're such a slut, you probably want me to do that again."

Victoria shudders and tries to shrink in on herself, and a hungry smile grows on Amy's face as a rush of power makes her extremities tingle. Knowing that she can do anything she wants and is good enough to make her sister like it is a heady feeling no matter how many times she realizes it. Amy can't fully forget how messed up this all is, but still she'll enjoy it while it lasts and hold dear the memories.

Assuming Victoria wasn't protesting for the moment's sake and has actually given up on triggering, Amy's pretty sure she has a better chance of making it happen, now. Triggering requires giving up, a sort of helpless acceptance that can't be faked — At least, that's how hers went. 

Giving up on ever feeling like a real member of the family, on somehow growing past her villainous father's blood and finally being free of the weight of Carol's prejudice and malicious expectation, on the idea that the pain of living would ever be worth the other pains of living — Getting powers is how Amy woke up in the bathtub, years ago, instead of… well, not waking up.

She lost her best way to cope with it all, that day – the lightheaded euphoria and relief that came with cutting are forever out of reach, leaving only the sting – but she can't say that her life didn't get somewhat better, afterward. Carol warmed up to her a bit thanks to training and fighting together, she gets to spend more time and get closer with the rest of her family, and smashing villains into the dirt is a pretty good replacement cope. 

So now that she's pushed Victoria near that point there's a decent chance she'll trigger. As much as Amy wants to slow down and take it easy so she'll be able to fuck her sister longer, she can't. Now is the time to push harder and break her and fuck that shouldn't be as hot as it is. Wanting to break someone can't be anything but evil, but Amy has permission, she's doing it for a good reason, Victoria asked for it and threatened to kill herself if Amy didn't help, so like hell is Amy going to back out now and let that happen. 

That's why she pulls a still tense Victoria to the couch and strips off her sweatpants. Amy pushes her onto her back, kneels between her legs, and takes a moment to take in the sight of her sister's pussy, but before she can dive in and feast on the fruit within the bush, it's like Victoria suddenly realizes she's about to get raped again and decides now is the time to put up a fight.

She kicks and screams and tries to get some space, and her foot comes dangerously close to breaking a nose or blackening an eye before Amy gets her head out of the way. Victoria's struggling harder than she has in months. With an annoyed groan, Amy grabs Victoria's ankle and forces it against the same leg’s thigh so she can shackle them together with a pass of her arm. 

Victoria falls off the couch a moment later, thrown off balance by her leg's sudden cessation of response. She tries to crawl away on the floor, but Amy breaks a scab and a controlled torrent of blood forces Victoria prone and keeps her still long enough for Amy to wrestle and restrict the rest of her limbs, leaving her with arms bound together behind her back and both legs locked up tight. 

With her victim immobilized, Amy takes a moment to collect all of her blood before it dries into an actual mess and drop it down the kitchen sink. Amy sighs irritably when she comes back to the living room. Eating her sister out is one of Amy's favorite things to do, and she doesn't appreciate her meal getting interrupted. Although, she does get a nice view as a consolation, so she's not that upset. 

"You look really hot like this," Amy says. She kneels behind Victoria and grabs her hips, pulling them up so Victoria's face is in the carpet and her ass is in the air. Amy palms her bare butt for a few seconds before her hand moves so she can thumb at her sister's moist slit. "You're so wet; it almost makes me think you get off on this. Tell me, did you struggle just so I'd have to cuff you?"

Victoria sobs and hyperventilates into the carpet, and Amy flushes. It's been a while since she's been this panicked, and Amy can't help but love it. 

"Yeah, we both know you did. But don't worry; now that I've got you caught, I'll make you feel reeeal good."

Amy's thumb moves to her clit and one of her fingers slips easily inside her sister.. Victoria tenses like prey caught in a predator's maw as Amy starts to fuck her again. She can't do anything but lay there and take it, and she doesn't even bother crying out for help this time; she just cries. 

Amy brings her sister to another orgasm with her fingers, and then spends an hour with her face buried in Victoria's cunt giving her so many more. When she's finished luxuriating in the taste and texture, she unbinds her sister and leaves to go clean herself up. 

When she gets back to the living room, Victoria has barely moved. All she's done in the last fifteen minutes is cry, and as much as Amy wants to push her further, she's hungrier than she is horny.

"I'm gonna get some lunch started," Amy says. "You should take a shower."

Victoria doesn't respond, and Amy frowns. 

"… Or , I could be convinced if you want to go another round," Amy threatens. 

That rouses Victoria enough for her to pick herself up and drag herself to the bathroom. She doesn't bother to take off her shirt before getting in the shower and turning it as hot as it'll go. She feels like she should cry, but her tear ducts are empty. 

She had thought Amy would listen if she was calm, professional, and told her to stop before Amy got going. She wonders now if she waited too long and Amy thought her protests were in-the-moment things; Amy had already touched her butt and licked her ear when Victoria tried to say something. So that must be it. 

An hour later, during a supremely calm and uncharged moment of lunch, Victoria tries again. She repeats herself and states seriously that they're done, that Amy's not allowed to assault her any more, keeping her desperation out of her tone as best she can. 

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you before," Amy says. "I'm still not going to stop."

"Wh– But you– I– I'll tell Mom!" Victoria threatens. 

"You'll tell Carol that you asked me to rape you?"

"I— No, I… I'll…" Her throat tightens up, constricted by an invisible noose of her own design. 

"Vicky. Just stop. We both know you're not going to say anything, and we both know you can't do anything. Even if you did tell, it's not like anyone would believe you; the only person who actually listens to you in this family is me, and. Well." Amy chuckles. 

Amy's words hit hard. It's true that Amy's got a better relationship with the entire rest of the family thanks to so many shared life-and-death situations. It's also true that Amy has more clout, publicly; Victoria's only place in the public consciousness is people going 'wait, isn't there another kid in New Wave? Valerie, or something?' 

Theoretically, Victoria could come out publicly about what her sister's been doing, but that would tear the family and the team apart, regardless of if Victoria is believed or not, and there's a more than decent chance she would end up branded a liar who's envious of her sister: a powerless nobody making things up for attention. It's a sad fact of life that accusations of rape are rarely taken at face value. 

It hits Victoria, the idea that this is her life now. She wonders if all she has to look forward to is getting raped by her sister, if this abuse will continue and repeat itself every day until she triggers — And she won't. This could continue for years, and she knows it won't lead to powers. 

…No. It's not that it 'could' continue for years. Amy has made it clear that it will continue. This won't end, not ever. She'll never get another easy night of sleep. She'll never stop finding bruises she doesn't remember Amy giving her but that couldn't have come from anywhere else. No one will notice, because she's not the one anyone pays attention to. 

This is her life. 

That thought echoes in her mind for the rest of the day, staying in the forefront even as Amy has her way with her and brings her to peak again and again. She doesn't talk for the rest of the day; only monosyllabic answers slip out, and only when Amy specifically demands them. She is like a marionette hanging limp from her master's hand. 

When Amy lays them down for the night, shackling Victoria's wrists and ankles and spooning her, Victoria lays awake for hours after Amy's fallen under. She stares at the walls of her room, what once was a safe place, but she doesn't see them; her gaze is on the future, and she stares directly into hell. 

She doesn't sleep that night, not really. Her nerves won't settle, not when Amy could wake up the moment Victoria relaxes. She does, at least, zone out for most of the streetlight hours. When she comes back to herself in the morning, the blood keeping her bound has crumbled and there is an unfamiliar pressure beneath her skin. 

^U^

That same morning, Victoria let Amy know about her powers. It isn't until a week later that she tells the rest of the family, knowing they'd ask how she got powers and not knowing how to explain triggering. 

She was wrong. No one asked about her trigger event. No one mentioned it beyond offering support and sympathy if she wants to talk. She doesn't. No one even questioned her when she snapped "don't fucking touch me!" at Crystal for trying to give her a hug. 

Carol didn't even call her out for her coarse language. Victoria was able to shove off the sandpaper sympathies after that, and the team – her team – moved on to less personal matters: testing the limits of Victoria's powers and brainstorming ways she could use them and fit into existing team dynamics. 

Her nullification being touch-range is unfortunate, and the effect wearing off only seconds after contact is broken moreso. She'll have to get in better shape and learn how to grapple to be really good, her uncle and mom told her. She tries to put the second half of that out of mind for now. 

More impressive than the nullifying is the pressure she feels after touching another parahuman — After a few seconds of suppressing a power, she's able to leech from it to build a short-lived charge, and then can push that charge into a parahuman, lending aspects of her victim's power to her target's. She can even enhance the very powers she suppressed, deepening and broadening the parahuman's abilities. 

It's far from the Alexandria package Victoria's dreamed about since she was young, but powers are powers, and trumps are useful. Being a power nullifier means she can, theoretically, end a fight with another cape just by grabbing them, and enhancing powers is super rare; both together is practically unheard of. 

So even though she doesn't get to fly or take center stage easily and immediately, she's still – finally – important. After waiting her whole life, she's a part of the team. It's a good feeling, mostly. Amy being there complicates things. 

Amy, to her credit, stays out of Victoria's way: at home, at school, and during team meetings. She doesn't approach or try to talk to Victoria. She hasn't interacted with Victoria at all since she woke up with Victoria's hands wrapped around her throat and gave the new parahuman a black eye to get free. And that's good. Right?

Victoria is sure it's good because it can't be anything else. 

^U^ 

Just a week passes before Victoria gets fed up with the silence, distance, and ambiguity, and barges into Amy's room to confront her. Amy sits at her desk and stares at her in the doorway, and Victoria stands in the doorway and glares right back. 

"Hey," Amy says, slow and gentle, like she's talking to an injured dog. "Do you want to come in?"

Victoria doesn't say anything, though she does step inside and shut the door. She leans against the bit of wall next to it, keeping her escape route open and nearby. Victoria glares at her sister, who has the audacity to hunch her shoulders pitifully. 

"Don't you ever touch me again," Victoria snaps – whispers, really – after two full minutes of glaring. 

"Okay," Amy easily agrees. 

Victoria blinks. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"You won't… do… that again?"

"I won't."

"You're gonna drop it just like that?"

"Yes. Just like that."

"Fucking—" Victoria came in here for a fight, to lay down the law and browbeat Amy now that she has the power to. She didn't expect her sister to give in before the first blow. " Why?! "

Amy frowns and starts to fiddle with her sleeve. Victoria's eyes lock onto that hand, watching like a hawk to see if she'll pick a scab and try something. "Because, Vicky, I love you, a—"

" I fucking noticed . You're sick, you know that?"

Amy sighs. "Yeah. I know."

"So… what? You'll stop because you finally realized you're a perverted freak?"

"No. I'm stopping because you have powers now."

Victoria bristles and takes an angry step toward her. "You're stopping because now I can make you stop? Is that it?"

" No ," Amy stresses. She actually looks at Victoria now, frustrated. "I'm stopping because this was when you told me to stop."

"I told you to stop plenty of times."

"Yeah and then you got pissed at me for asking if you were serious," Amy bites out. She huffs and sadness replaces irritation. "I don't want to fight. I just… Vicky, you threatened to kill yourself."

"What? When?" Victoria asks. 

"When you told me to start hurting you." Victoria flinches at the reminder that it was her idea. "After Eric triggered and joined the team, you spiraled again and you told me that if you didn't get powers, your life wasn't even worth living. You said you'd rather die."

"I… Sure, but I didn't mean it. I was just saying stuff because I was bummed."

Amy's frown grows. She struggles for her words, and after a long pause, admits, "I triggered when I tried to kill myself."

The news is said so flatly that it takes Victoria a moment to process, and when she does, all she can say is, "Oh." 

She didn't know that. She knew Amy had issues, that she wasn't often happy, that she barely had any hobbies or friends; she even knew Amy cut herself. She never realized things had gotten to the point that Amy made an attempt. She didn't know she'd almost lost her sister. 

But then Victoria remembers she's mad, so she snaps, "Why the hell should I care?"

Amy's hands turn to fists and she takes a deep breath. "I'm telling you this because I could tell you weren't joking. Maybe you didn't mean you'd kill yourself that night, but I could tell you meant it. I love you, Victoria; you're the best part of my life and you always have been."

Victoria tenses again and gets ready to tell her off, again, but Amy speaks ahead of her.

"I wasn't willing to risk losing you, okay? That's why I went along with this whole thing in the first place, and I don't want to lose you now. I know what I did was wrong and messed up and you're right, I shouldn't have enjoyed it or— …and that's why I'm stopping. You've got powers like you wanted, so just please don't kill yourself or cut me out completely, okay? Everything I did, I did for you, so just… Please ."

For a few minutes, Amy's plea hangs heavy over the room. Victoria thinks, and she feels, and she watches Amy for any signs of deceit or aggression. 

"I… I'm not gonna kill myself," Victoria eventually says. 

Amy looks at her with sad eyes and knows that's all she's going to get right now. She'll take it. So she nods and says, "Okay. I'll… not touch you if that's what you want. Whatever you need."

"Yeah," Victoria bites out. "You better not."

She lingers for a few seconds longer, to get some more openly hostile glaring in while she can, then leaves without bothering to shut Amy's door behind her. Her room across the hall doesn't feel far enough away, but she locks, deadbolts, and bars her bedroom door so that no one can get in easily or without her knowing. 

Her room doesn't feel like the safe place it once did. Too much has happened to her within these four walls. The multiple locks she installed help a little, and so did rearranging her room and keeping a knife under her pillow, but the nightmares of being choked, drowned, and molested haven't abated and she's still yet to have a restful night's sleep. Her mom keeps suggesting sleep meds, but Victoria can't stand the idea of drugging herself and making it easy. 

Victoria falls back onto her bed and stares up at the ceiling. Amy's words feel too good to be true. She promised and agreed so quickly and easily. Victoria wants to dismiss all she said out of hand, but her thoughts about the everything of it all are too jumbled. 

Victoria did ask for it initially, but she revoked consent and Amy didn't listen. Victoria asked for powers despite knowing getting them would suck, and Amy gave them to her despite arguing against it at first. What Victoria went through was absolute hell , but if Amy had stopped when Victoria told her to for real, none of it would have been worth shit; her powers are a shitty consolation prize for what she went through, and in retrospect not worth it, but at least she didn't get nothing out of it. She wants to hate her sister, but her sister loves her, and helped her, and raped her, and made her a hero, and, and, and…

It's all too much. Confronting Amy was supposed to simplify things, but her thoughts still swirl and tumble and tie her mind into knots until she eventually falls into fitful, disordered sleep. 

^u^

In the other room, across the hall, whilst Victoria's mind tangles, Amy's settles. 

She stares through the door Victoria left open. She'd been waiting for Victoria to come and talk to her, knowing that making the approach herself would doom any conversation, and it finally happened. It went about as well as a conversation between a coerced rapist and her volunteer victim could: it didn't get physical, no one yelled, there were no declarations of unending hate and schemes of revenge.

Still, Amy is left exhausted.

She knew this whole scheme would go bad from the start, but she still agreed to hurt and rape Victoria, and now that it's all over, she hates that she feels sad it's over. She knows it's wrong, but she wants to touch Victoria again. She wants Victoria to tell her she craves her sister's touch just as much Amy does. She wants to think that, maybe, someday, Victoria will come into her room and ask Amy to fuck her again. 

It's a stupid, unrealistic, sadistic fantasy. Victoria's more than made herself clear on the matter that their sexual days are over. Amy will never again taste her sister; never again hear her sweet, pitiful whimpers; never again have Victoria's nails dig into her back as pleasure overwhelms her and she embraces her sister as a rock in the storm. 

Amy will at least have the memories, and she'll privately cherish them for the rest of her life because the truth of the matter is: Amy enjoyed it. She's not sure if she even regrets it — The maths on that are still being worked out, and the answer won't be settled until she gets a feel for how their siblingship shakes out. 

It's almost funny: Amy spent so long burying her desires only to let them out for Victoria's sake, and now she has to lock them back up and act like she doesn't yearn for her sister's touch every moment of her life. Amy always knew that showing that part of herself would ruin her and Victoria's relationship, and she can only hope it's not ruined forever. If she's lucky, Victoria might give her a hug by next year. She can only hope.

^U^

Somehow, the Dallon household finds a sense of benign normalcy. 

Despite Amy being the one to do it to her, Amy is the only one who knows what Victoria went through for her powers, and that creates a sort of intimacy: a horrible sort, but still. Victoria knows that when she shoots Amy a knowing look after an uncomfortable pat on the back from their dad, Amy understands. 

Having no one else she can trust with the radioactive truth creates a bond, and this bond between a monster and its half-devoured meal is not something that can be ignored by either party. 

That Amy has been on her best behavior since their talk months ago helps make that bond less destructive and more comforting than Victoria could have imagined in the weeks surrounding her trigger. The nightmares have even lessened to only most nights instead of every, though a full, uninterrupted night's sleep remains out of reach. She still jumps at shadows and flinches or freezes when touched without warning, but she's getting better; she knows she is. 

It's for this reason – and because by doing this, she can help heal her family – Victoria allows Amy to lean against her on the couch. Every inch of contact is like barbed wire neither girl can ignore, but the excuses help Victoria bear it: Amy's powerless like this, and when they're done Amy will use her enhanced powers to patch up the rest of the team; she's no panacea, but even minor parahuman healing is highly valued among capes. Victoria is being useful and important, so she grits her teeth and makes herself stay still and not jump away from her sister like she itches to.

She tries to put it out of mind while she leeches and cultivates Amy's power; both girls try to distract themselves with their phones, to varying degrees of success. 

Amy switches what hand her phone is in, shakes out her dominant hand – it hurts where she got stung by a rock sent flying, earlier – and lets it fall carelessly and thoughtlessly against Victoria's thigh. 

Victoria freezes and her eyes lock on. The hand is barely even on her, honestly, resting mostly on Amy's leg, the back of it resting on her just above the knee. By all objective metrics, it's a totally innocent touch. Subjectively, however, it feels like a burning prelude. Against her will, she imagines it moving more fully onto her thigh and squeezing before slowly moving up to touch Victoria there . 

She starts to tremble, but she keeps it under control. The hand hasn't moved, not in reality, only in her head, and the rest of their family is in the room with them, talking and resting and aching after a rough fight clearing out a new gang, so there's no way Amy would grope her, molest her, fuck her right now: not when she was always so careful to keep these– those things out of sight. 

Her self-soothing reassurances fall flat as her mind races out of control. 

Amy notices none of this, distracted as she is by her own pain from the earlier fight and the silly squiggles and blotches on her phone. She doesn't notice until she hears Victoria's breathing, too short and too quick, and realizes where her hand is. Amy jerks it away – "Shit, sorry" – and tries to make space, but Victoria grabs her wrist with bone-creaking pressure before the charge can dissipate and force her to touch Amy again, for longer. 

Amy remains there, unmoving, until she feels her power return, different, and Victoria lets her go. Her repeated apology falls flat as Victoria stands and storms away upstairs, leaving Amy behind to make a vague, shrugging excuse to the rest of the team for her leaving. As Amy – Platelet – helps patch up the rest of the team's injuries, Victoria locks herself in her room, curls into a ball under her desk, and rides out a panic attack. 

She holds herself and reassures herself nothing happened, but she can't shake the memories of when her sister's touches were far less innocent or incidental. She hasn't been able to – or even wanted to – let someone else touch her like that, and she allowed so few of her boyfriends before Amy to touch her under the clothes — These horrible, jagged memories of sex with Amy are practically the only ones she has, and there's nothing else like them she can use to move her mind. 

She can't stop thinking about all the times Amy touched her, licked her, bit her, fucked her until she was an insensate, immobile mess. So it's not her fault when a trembling hand moves slowly to her waistband; it's not her fault when it slips under and touches her; it's not her fault it finds slick wetness; it's not her fault when it starts to move; and it's not her fault when she gasps and cries as she pushes herself to cum as quickly as possible. 

A minute later, calmed by the endorphins of an orgasm, it feels like it's her fault. It always does, after she touches herself while thinking of Amy.