“Gallant, I'm glad to have you back,” Deputy Director Renick greeted him with a smile. “How are you feeling? Scapegoat get you all fixed up?”

  “Clean bill of health,” he replied simply. Gallant took a seat, wincing as the chair groaned under his armoured bulk. “How bad was it?” The man grimaced.

  “Bad,” Renick replied. “Twenty-four capes dead or permanently disabled, then all this shit coming out about the PRT.” He sighed and shook his head. “Apologies Gallant, it's been a long day.”

  “Yes sir,” Gallant said, setting two stacks of paper of the desk. “I'm sorry to add to it.” Renick eyed him, then took the papers.

  “God dammit,” he swore. “I suppose I can't persuade you to stay for at least a week, can I?”

  “I'm sorry,” he repeated. “I...I can't be a hero in good faith anymore. I purchased my powers, or had them purchased for me so...” He shrugged.

  “You're not the only one,” Renick said. “More than a fifth of the active duty roster did, according to what I've heard. Of course that could easily be an exaggeration, but I just mean that you're not going to be screwed for it.”

  “I appreciate that sir but...” Gallant sighed. “I've been lying about my powers for years, lied to my teammates, my girlfriend. Even if I stayed around, there's no way any of them could trust me again.”

  “You're going to be damned difficult to replace.” Renick flipped through the sheaf of papers. “Will you at least stay on in a limited capacity for a while? Just while we're reorganizing things, get your replacement trained up.” Gallant shook his head.

  “I'm done sir, sorry.” Renick nodded his head slowly.

  “Then I sincerely hope you at least keep being a hero.” He pulled out a pen and spent a few minutes signing and initialing the paperwork. “God knows we need as many as we can get.”

  “I'm not retiring, just leaving the Wards.”

  “I'm not sure how much difference that will make, unfortunately.” Renick pushed the papers back towards him, then began examining the second stack. “Whatever the case, I wish you all the best. Been a pleasure working with you, Gallant.”

  “Likewise, sir.”

  “Now this...” He paused, reading over the papers. “A therapy request? The Wards are already on weekly sessions.”

  “Yes sir,” he replied. “If you'll please finish.”

  Renick stared at him for a moment, then nodded. Gallant, or Dean now, glanced out the window. Smoke was still rising from where the fighting had been heaviest, firestorms ignited by the star that ended the battle. He'd read the reports an hour ago, while waiting for Scapegoat to recover enough to fix his leg.

  'Nightmare' was putting things lightly. He'd avoided the casualty lists, just in case, but the AARs were enough. Alexandria. Not just her, but the entire Triumvirate had apparently bought their powers, like him. Worse, Alexandria also worked as head of the PRT. Every report had been redacted heavily, but the implications were there; at least, they were when he had an inside look already.

  “You're going to need to explain this one,” Renick said at last, pushing the papers back. “Counselling is one thing, intensive therapy?”

  “It's necessary, sir,” Dean said firmly. “I understand it's not...typical, but if you want Amaranth to be a functional part of your team.”

  “This is related to why you took her off the patrol roster?” Dean nodded. “Brief me.”

  “I'm not sure, but I think it's her power expression sir; I really don't know.” He sighed. “At least clear her for an assessment? If you won't take my word for it, Doctor Yamada is--”

  “It's fine, Gallant,” Renick interrupted him, taking the papers and signing. “Pending Yamada's approval, I can give her two weeks at least. Anything else will be up to whoever's next on the chopping block here.”

  “You're not taking the position?”

  “Hell no,” Renick grunted, stacking the paperwork on one side of his desk. “I've been doing this for ten years, been with the PRT for twenty. I'm sure with your New Wave connections, you've heard them gripe about the bad old days, right? Used to be the directorship was a hotseat, changed at least once a year if not more. When I made deputy director, I swore I'd never drop 'deputy' from the title; I'm quite happy not being kidnapped or shot by a warlord.”

  “I...that's fair.” Dean stood and offered a hand. “I appreciate it sir, really.”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Least I can do,” Renick said, taking his hand and giving it a brief shake. “You've come a long way from the brat that was annoyed he wasn't going on a solo patrol night one.” Dean chuckled and shook his head.

  “Can't believe you remember that,” he replied.

  “I try and keep track of the Wards who stick around,” Renick said with a shrug. “Take care of yourself Gallant, or...whoever you'll be in the future.”

  “Same to you, sir.”

  Dean left the deputy director's office and headed towards the elevator. He did his best to ignore the looks some staff gave him, full of suspicion and barely restrained anger. Worse was their palettes, something he couldn't ignore. Dean knew the moment he stepped foot inside the PRT headquarters that he was done. He hadn't seen his team yet, but knew it would be much of the same.

  He punched a button, maybe a little harder than necessary, and the elevator began slowly traveling down. He glanced in the mirror on the side, at his battered armour. Not his anymore, it was property of the PRT. Dean was going to need to sort out a new costume, new identity, figure out what exactly he was going to do after all this. He still wanted to be a hero, but he knew how dangerous being a solo act was.

  Maybe a team? There were going to be a lot of independent capes now, though he'd have similar issues working with them as with the Wards; trust. Maybe New Wave but... A sigh escaped Dean's lips as his head thumped against the wall. He had to tell Vicky. Even thinking about it made him sick, but he couldn't hide it anymore. Never should have in the first place, but that was his mistake to live with.

  He left the elevator and headed down the quiet halls of the infirmary. It was quiet, despite the intensity of the recent battle. Dean knew that was at least partly because Amy had joined the fight, or at least had been close enough to keep most people alive. He forced back the flicker of anger, it was a bad impulse. Amy had helped, objectively he knew things would be worse if she hadn't. Still... He shook his head and rapped his knuckles on one of the doors.

  “Gallant,” Dr. Yamada greeted him with a smile. “It's good to see you. Come in?” He nodded and stepped inside, taking a seat when she offered. “You've caught me between appointments, good timing. I hope I'll still see you tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Not...exactly doctor.” Dean grimaced and wrung his hands. “I'm leaving the Wards. I...have you heard what happened?”

  “I know there was a battle and it went...worse than it could have.” She cocked her head. “Beyond that, only rumours; I know better than to put my stake in those.”

  “Sometimes they have a grain of truth,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “My parents bought my powers for me and I've lied about it for years. So...yeah, I'm done.” She blinked.

  “Well,” Yamada said after a moment of silence. “That's...quite something. Thank you for telling me.”

  “You're not angry?”

  “I...may I be honest Gallant?” He nodded. “I'm more confused than I am angry. I've worked with parahumans for my entire career, and frankly I cannot see the appeal. I understand not everyone has that sort of perspective but...still.”

  “Yeah it's...it's not what I expected.” Dean sighed. “Anyway, that's not the whole reason I'm here. You remember Amaranth?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “I take it you're not here to tell me she's made a miraculous turn around?” He hung his head.

  “It's...bad,” Dean said. “I don't...in this last battle, our enemy was able to make clones, twisted versions of capes that were evil or...hostile at least. Hers attacked me, told me...some pretty unbelievable things. And then she confirmed them and...” He took a shuddering breath. “Sorry, this isn't an appointment and--”

  “Dean,” she cut him off. “It's alright.”

  “Okay.” He took a deep breath and shook his head. “I shouldn't share what she told me it's...it's not my place. I've requested she get some intensive therapy and I was hoping you could take her on. The deputy director gave his approval for two weeks, with your say so.” She pursed her lips, eyes drifting towards her bookshelf.

  “I admire you taking confidentiality seriously,” Yamada replied with a hint of sarcasm. She turned to her computer and struck a few keys. “It won't be the ideal structure, but two weeks of alternating days would be possible. I'm assuming by intensive you meant short of institutionalization.”

  “I think that would be a bad choice, ma'am,” Dean said. “I think she just needs help working through her power expression or...something. I'm not an expert on how that stuff works, or how it affects parahumans mentally. You are.”

  “You're right about that at least.” She removed her glasses and rubbed them with a cloth. “If she isn't a danger to herself or others, then there's no reason to put her in the asylum. And is she?”

  “Not in my opinion,” he said. “Maybe she has some issues with impulses, but it's never been directed towards violence.” Not against anyone on their side, at least.

  “And she'll remain off-duty until her therapy is over?” A beat of silence. “I see. Is tomorrow fine to start?”

  “I'll talk to Amaranth, but it should be alright.”

  “I'll talk to Amaranth,” Yamada countered, arching a brow as she replaced her glasses. “I think you have enough on your plate as it is.” He hung his head.

  “You're not wrong,” Dean admitted. “After this I've got to give the armour back to Kid Win, then go do paperwork until sundown probably.”

  “As I said, quite enough. How is Victoria?” He tensed.

  “Better now that she's been healed,” he said. “I...I don't think she's going to take it well.”

  “Your secret?” Another nod. “She may not. It's still better that you're truthful.”

  “I know I just...” Dean sighed and pulled his helmet off, staring down at the visor. “If I lose her on top of everything else...”

  “Then you'll need to reach out to others for support.” A business card appeared in front of him. “Just because you won't be my patient doesn't mean we can't talk.”

  “I...thank you Doctor Yamada.” He took a deep breath and pocketed the card, then replaced his helmet and stood. “For everything.”

  “Take care of yourself, Dean,” she replied with a warm smile. “I'll look forward to hearing about your future heroics.”

  He smiled and headed out, returning to the elevator and descending further. Armour return, exit paperwork, kit return which was separate from armour since nothing else was Tinker-made. His smile quickly vanished and he sighed. So much to do still, despite being on his way out of the Wards; it was exhausting, and when he went solo it would be worse. He still wanted to be a hero, no matter what.

  First...maybe a break.