Spectre’s heart nearly stopped when the Doctor raised her hand. He was expecting her to suddenly recall the life she’d given Paladin; made twice as terrifying by the fact that Paladin had halted in her tracks the moment that hand moved into position. But there was no sudden collapse, no bolt of death from the Doctor’s fingertips… They were safe from smiting, for now.

He’d known Ink had it in her to be brave and speak her mind already – of all the group, Spectre was the one who really knew the true Claire the best, and he could only imagine that playing the role of Ink would only help in boosting her confidence. Still, her words had concerned him. Not in their tone, not in their message, but in their brazen, confrontational nature. He was worried enough about Paladin, he didn’t need to be worrying about the Doctor’s retaliation against Ink’s speech. But thankfully, she too went unsmote for now.

Overwatch was the clear polar opposite of Paladin. Where she saw hope and opportunity, he believed that “real life doesn’t have a happy ending”. Spectre knew his thoughts lay somewhere in-between the two, and perhaps he would even be feeling more hopeful if he wasn’t paralysed by fear that his blue-haired chance at a happy ending was just a few feet away from a hugely powerful being who seemed to have left the bulk of her humanity at the door.

There was a verbal warning shot from the Doctor. If he hadn’t been so committed to his role as a hero, Spectre might have been tempted to take up her offer and leave.

As he contemplated this – trying to figure out what his next move should be; how he could protect Paladin and Ink, or if he should fall back with the other three – there was a sudden and completely unexpected development. Spectre watched, startled, as a large gap just dissolved into the wall and two figures appeared in a cloud of dust. Dramatic. He was kind of jealous of their entrance.

There was a click as the large man cocked the pistol in his hand, holding it in such a manner that it wasn't pointed at anyone, but had the air that it could be at a moment's notice.

The Doctor replied to their apparently innocent question.

“Yes… I rather think you are…”

Spectre looked around the room, confused. Was he supposed to recognise these men? All they were doing was setting off alarm bells in his head, and all the while the Doctor’s plan had already started whirring into action around them. They were running out of time… It had already begun…

They stayed there, gazing aimlessly into the growing fire as the night swallowed the beach whole around them.

“We should head back soon, my moms will probably be waiting up,” Mason said softly, making no moves to leave.

What did this mean for them? Something had changed. Claire had touched her forehead against him just before his visibility had waned and there had been a little spark, jump-starting something in him. She was so young and cautious – Mason didn’t want to examine his feelings further for fear of finding something that could hurt her. This kind of thing… he’d thought he’d left it behind.

“Thank you,” he said simply, the phrase in response to absolutely nothing. But hopefully Claire would understand.

They had embarked upon this trip as a brief escape from the madness of San Francisco. A trip with the ultimate purpose of soothing Mason with his mothers’ acceptance and reassurance, but also to clear their heads amidst the never-ending chaos of learning what their powers meant and what their new place in this strange world was.

Instead their powers had followed them; an inevitable conclusion. But not with the urgency and intimidating magnitude that they seemed to hold back in San Francisco. Mason had learnt to engage with his power in a more gentle, natural way and Claire had opened herself up to another aspect of hers – using it for nothing except a spark of beauty. It was a far cry from the broken needles and ruined keys that had accompanied her first awakening.

Mason looked up at the stars, readying himself to leave this moment. He wasn’t ready – not just yet – but he knew that neither of them could avoid their responsibilities for long.

He searched the universe, but it held no answers. As usual, it was up to him to forge his future.

Having only just shaken off his fuzzy-headed, heavy-hearted spout of depression in the last 24 hours, Mason hadn’t yet brought himself to find the right moment to tell Alice that she was his child. Finally she’d know that her father hadn’t abandoned her – not by choice – and that he was here to be in her life as much or as little as she needed. It was a heavy conversation, joyful but immensely mind-blowing, and Mason hadn’t wanted to deliver his “Alice, I Am Your Father” speech without being in the right emotional place.

This morning, Mason had begun to feel in that place. He would tell her once they had finished their business with the Doctor, away from everyone else. Claire already knew, of course; he’d needed someone to confide in and assure him he was making the right call. He didn’t mind the others knowing either but he also didn’t want to place Alice under any more pressure than she already was.

In a way, he was prepared for her to reject him as a parent and move on with her life as though he’d never said anything. He hoped for a chance at being the father he’d always dreamed of, but things were obviously more complex when your newborn was a fully-fledged eighteen-year-old.

Their swift journey down to LA had been of a completely different tone to that of Mason and Claire’s road trip down to Seal Beach. Now there was a tension in the air; apprehensive faces unsure of what to expect from these secret tunnels beneath Los Angeles. It wasn’t Mason returning to South California at all but the noble Spectre – ready to act in the name of justice.

Spectre was just as startled as the rest of the group to be greeted by a broad, squat man – not even dressed up for the occasion which he had clearly been anticipating. The grey sweatpants and mass of white pudge protruding from the bottom of his sweatshirt seemed completely at odds with the Doctor’s image. Was this some kind of joke?

‘The doorman’. It had more weight to it than usual. A title of sorts.

Following Surge’s lead, Spectre hesitantly followed his team through the doorway. The doorman almost shut it on him – clearly not blessed with the Doctor’s “eyesight” – before performing his first magic trick of the night. Gone was the city they had just stepped out from. A new, unfamiliar room loomed through the doorway; the Doctor’s lair.

Spectre kept back from the group, keeping his distance from the Doctor and her doorman. He may have discovered a newfound sympathy for her motives, but he had also gained quite an insight into how powerful she was and Spectre wasn’t taking chances with either her or the company she kept.

It was quite difficult to keep himself from shouting out as Paladin – his daughter – enveloped the woman in a sudden, awkward hug. Even the powerful, superhuman doctor was taken by surprise, but fortunately she didn’t seem to take offence. Spectre was aware that trying to stay hidden from the Doctor was a ridiculous exercise, but keeping his exact location a secret from the doorman (Doorman?) felt like a good idea. The guy clearly had some powers of his own and Spectre wasn’t eager to test the man’s capabilities just yet.

The Doctor was staring at Paladin.

“You’re welcome,” she said eventually, observing the young hero with a bemused smile on her face.

Spectre didn’t trust it.

A relieved sigh of relief made its way through Mason’s smile. He was so happy to see that the beach hadn’t disappointed Claire – he’d been fairly confident that it would impress her, as it did everyone who visited it, but seeing was believing. She followed his lead, removing her shoes and placing them beside his own, and he watched with fond amusement as she took it all in.

They had come at a good time. The beach was definitely less peaceful during the day. The nearby community was mostly older adults like his parents but that didn’t mean there was a complete lack of young families. With young families came excitable children, screaming and laughing as they indulged in the joy of a beach trip. Fortunately for Claire and Mason – who were clearly both seeking tranquillity at the moment – it was past those excitable children’s bedtime.

“Always kinda wanted to visit Lake Michigan,” Mason offered. “But uh, maybe I’ll go in the off-season. Furious birds have to take a break sometime too, right?”

He could definitely share in her distaste for angry seagulls.

“I like the beach down here more, San Francisco isn’t bad, but there’s a reason people like my parents retire to places like this instead.” Mason chuckled. “You’ve never even been to Baker Beach? Classic views of the Golden Gate Bridge. Seals too, occasionally. Always cute!” People were normally tempted by the prospect of seals. “Also sometimes nudists… but maybe not the most appealing aspect of the place – hope for a particularly foggy day, I guess. Just think of the views and the seals, they’re worth it.”

Mason was unsure at what point he became a salesman for Baker Beach, but at this point he was just rolling with it.

“Born and raised in San Francisco,” he said proudly. “It’s where my mom and dad met. I actually spent more time in Canada than I did in SoCal as a kid. So no, this isn’t a homecoming,” he said, a bittersweet tone to his voice. “It’s perfect for mom and Annie though, so I like it, but just because it reminds me of them.”

He trailed over to a nearby fire pit, nudging an abandoned (empty) packet of marshmallows balled up beside it with his foot.

“How rude – they could’ve at least saved some for us.”

That… actually made a lot of sense.

Claire had put the mechanism of his power on a level he could not only understand, but which brought him hope. Of course it needed to be built up in strength – pushed and torn to re-heal – just like a muscle. He could work with that. It seemed like even these minor displays of his power were enough to tire his power out for now, but maybe soon he’d be able to maintain the expanded field for longer, and maybe even stretch it further.

“You’re a genius,” he said proudly, slapping her on the back. “Of course, thanks.”

He realised a little too late that the sudden impact on her shoulder was probably more terrifying than it was comradely. Oops.

Fortunately he’d managed to avoid giving her a heart attack, and Claire proceeded to continue to show off her obvious basketball prowess. The girl was seriously coordinated – definitely more predisposed to hero work than one would first assume upon encountering the young art student. Either that or she had devoted her life to practising these same shots over and over to give the illusion of natural ability which… -yeah, Mason couldn’t quite see Claire putting down the sketchbook long enough to undergo a rigorous, lifelong basketball training regime.

“You sure it’s out of your system? Don’t want to go and quickly put together a team and take on the whole NBA? PQ and I will be the cheer squad.”

Alice would definitely have tried to hit him if she’d been present.

It didn’t take them long to reach the beach. Its vast stretch of sand was broken in half by the skinny little pier that had instantly charmed his parents when they’d first visited their potential new home. It was completely empty at this time, the gentle crash of waves their only company.

Mason slipped his shoes off and indulged for a moment in the feeling of cool, evening sand against his feet. He sighed, feeling unbelievably relaxed.

“Well, this is it. Whaddya think?”

He smiled across at her, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

In the wake of their miraculous triumph against the ambushers, Mason had finally given up on his hope of returning to a normal life. There was no way they could stop doing what they were doing – not now they knew how good they were, emerging victorious from being outnumbered on two fronts. Once they established more of a patrol route they could really get to grips with fighting crime and making San Francisco a better place. Maybe the world! Who knows.

He also knew, however, that this meant he had to leave his old life behind. It was tough thinking about how he could survive in this new role of his without a regular pay check but… he probably couldn’t keep up his current job if he wanted to devote himself to his new vocation.

Ugh… Something to think about, anyway. He’d sit down to think about his options in the evening, maybe over the next few days. Right now he was focused on his current mission – obtain flowers for Claire; currently recovering in hospital following a pretty strong concussion.

He had what he hoped was close enough to the correct amount of money folded into his pocket, ready to be dropped discreetly into place at the till. The difficult part was first selecting the perfect ‘Get Well Soon’ bouquet and then actually taking the flowers without anyone noticing. He was confident enough in his ability to keep them concealed once he actually had a hold of them, but he wasn’t so confident that people would just forget the fact that a whole load of flowers had just disappeared before their eyes.

Maybe he should have asked Persephone to make him a bouquet… She was the plant expert after all. She could have probably grown special everlasting tulips or something. Not on such short notice, but he could use her in the future maybe. He was sure she wouldn’t mind. His mothers would love such a gift.

Instead, Mason ended up selecting a bunch of bright white lilies that caught his eye the moment he stepped into the flower shop. Mercifully he had enough money to purchase them; it would have been hard to settle for anything less. They were peaceful and understated compared to the vibrant blooms around them – perfect for Claire.

Unfortunately he had to wait ten tense minutes before the shop floor actually cleared, but it was a pretty swift operation once the opportunity arose. The flowers were in his hand and the money on the counter before anyone could even blink. He thought he caught a hint of confusion on the assistant’s face while they surveyed the stock as he left, but he didn’t linger long enough to find out if they figured out what was wrong.

Sneaking into the hospital was surprisingly easy. Finding Claire’s ward was less so but, after a streak of complete fails (he probably should have noticed the signs indicating the maternity wards) he found her resting. He looked around, checking for staff, before planting the flowers beside her bed, and speaking softly,

“Hey Ink, how’s the ol’ melon? Still remember me?”

With considerable effort, he flexed his field to bring her in, rendering himself visible to her for a moment. He offered her a concerned, sympathetic smile before the field strained and snapped back into place once more.

He was definitely getting the hang of his powers. Every time he felt like he gained another inkling of control, he swelled with hope. It felt like there truly was a future for him as Spectre.

It was kinda terrifying.

Kinda awesome.

Watching the footage back was incredibly unnerving. Mason was reminded of that first time he’d realised that there was no reflection in Claire’s mirror, the complete cognitive dissonance that had taken shape. He knew he was standing there with a basketball at his feet, but Claire’s phone didn’t seem to have gotten the memo. It almost wasn’t a surprise any more not to see himself, but to see the ball fading out of existence was definitely weird to adjust to.

The aim had been to make the ball completely invisible without touching it and, although it hadn’t been a complete success, Mason had definitely affected it with his powers. It had been conscious, too, not something his power would have done naturally of its own accord. He was clearly beginning to tap into it. Beginning to understand his new ability. Control it, even.

“You think it’s incredible?” he asked, a little bashful. “It’s kinda weird, if you ask me.”

He knew his parents would be fascinated too. He couldn’t wait to show them the other side of it – so far they had just focused their efforts on minimising the burden and assuring him that he wasn’t some freak to keep their distance from. Being able to control it made it feel more like a gift, just like the others’ powers.

Claire returned to the light, playful smiling that kept persistently trickling through, and Mason was amused at the rebounded nicknaming.

“I can’t do it for long though,” he admitted, looking down. Without focusing his attention, the field had retracted back to its usual fuzzy state surrounding his body. Making any effort to bring the ball back into it just felt hard – it was some kind of mental fatigue barrier that he couldn’t cross until he’d gotten his breath back.

He shook himself, trying not to let the small hurdle ruin his elation. “Enough about me though, c’mon! Let’s see you do a trick shot! Something flashy,” he demanded. He wanted to see her really show off. She was normally so reserved – Mason was jumping on the opportunity to bring her out of her shell.