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"…So I dropped a building on him. Okay, not exactly. I ran into an abandoned rowhouse tryin' to lose him, but Moncho, that cabrón, chased me right in. He must've knocked down some supporting walls or somethin' tryin' to tag me, 'cause next thing I know, the damn ceiling was falling on top of both of us."

After a shower and Jack's ministrations, Alicia feels at least a couple of notches closer to humanity. Wrapped in a borrowed bathrobe and sporting various bandages, she sips hot cocoa from a cup and tiredly finishes her report.

"By that point, everyone else had either booked or was already down, so I crawled out of the wreckage and limped my way here."

She takes another sip and looks at Jack levelly. "You don't have to say it. I know. I royally screwed up. I'm totally lucky I'm still alive."

She looks down, anticipating the inevitable tirade.

"Everyone bites off more than they can chew.  Sometimes we're lucky and limp away.  Sometimes not so much.  At least now you've tested yourself and know you're not invincible.  That's the first benchmark you have to cross.  The question is, what will you do now?"

It takes Alicia a second to absorb Jack's words. She stares into her cup as if trying to obtain some great revelation from its contents.

Finally, she looks back up. "I have to go back."

She shakes her head in emphasis. "Not because I want payback, no."
 
She struggles to put her feelings into words. "Bastards like them killed Cristina." Alicia has already told Jack about the little girl's fate.

"They spread fear and pain with no concern. They've hurt and frightened people who've done nothin' but try to live their lives, who have no one to turn to for help. I... can't just stand by and let that happen."

As she speaks, her voice becomes harsher, her eyes flashing with inner fire. The cup in her hands trembles as she clenches them in rising anger.

"Those hijos de puta have to be stopped. They have to pay for what they've done," she growls. There is a slight screeching sound as her claws score the porcelain mug.

"Police officers are required to follow all manner of procedures and rules to protect everyone fairly under the law.  If you decide to step off on this path just try to remember you have to be above the people you're fighting.  You can't stoop as low as they do, otherwise you're just one of them.  Did you know that the reason most of the crimes these guys commit go unpunished?  The culprits are gone before the police arrive, and no one is willing to testify.  You have to be clever play at the vigilante game.  One of the reasons I don't do it."

Alicia looks defiantly at Jack.

"What's the alternative? Just give up and let those maricones get away with it?"

Her anger abates, although the fire still burns behind her eyes. "Jack, I was one of them. I know how the game is played. Taking them on would mean breaking the rules, stepping off the straight and narrow. So what? Been there, done that."

She puts the scratched mug down. She says, in a voice laced with tired resignation, "Maybe I was never meant to be a white hat. S'not like I've been doing that great a job at it."

"Who said anything about white hats.  I said you have to be clever.  It dosen't hurt to have friends that are smart.  I just said it's why I don't do it.  Not that you shouldn't."  He holds up both hands in a stop gesture, "Not that I am in any way suggesting to a minor that she engage in an urban war against the forces of domestic terrorism."  he puts his hands down, "I would never do anything like that.  And I would testify to such at any criminal proceeding where I'm called as a witness."  He smiles.  "I've worn the labels.  Been on the FBI top ten list.  I care about other people more than myself, and that's about all I have to separate me from the bad guys."

Alicia gives and apologetic smile and shrug. "Sorry. I... tend to do that. Jump into conclusions with both feet. S'why I'm in the doghouse with the group. Opened my mouth, inserted feet, stomped out brain."

She sighs glumly, cradling her head on her hands. "I guess that's the catch, isn't it? I'm not smart. And anyone smart enough is smart enough to not want me around."

She straightens back up, her determination unwavering. "But I just can't sit by. There's gotta be something I can do."

Her brain catches up with what Jack's said. "Wait? The Feds've been after you? I thought you were, like, the All-American Hero or something..."

"Even heroes get smeared sometimes.  And there was a particularly dark spot in the past when the FBI had my name on it's ten most wanted."  He clears away the empty cups.  "Stop being so boo hoo woe is me too.  You're still a kid.  Plenty of time for that when you're forty and life really does suck.  When my granddaughter was about your age she was involved with a group of other kids doing the super hero thing.  They had contacts on the police, and in other parts of the city where they were based.  You want to be a vigilante, then you have to make as many friends as enemies.  At least that's what Batman tells me.  Get a job in the old neighborhood sweeping floors, or waiting tables.  Some place that lots of people go and talk.  gives you a reason to be there, seeing what happens.  And then it's just like being Santa Clause.  Except you make a list of all the bad little boys and girls.  Being a hero is easier than most people think.  You just have to be an inconvenience to the bad guys until they do something really stupid.  And, this is the important part.  Vigilante's wear masks to protect other people, not themselves.  So it's going to cramp your style, but maybe you should think about a costume.  With a mask."

Alicia listens raptly. Each sentence spawns a dozen more questions in her mind, but she focuses on one.

"So you'll teach me? How to do this?"

"Or find someone who can.  I can't not help you, otherwise I'll have to explain to your mom how I let you get killed because you did something stupid before you were ready."

The mention of Alicia's mother snuffs the light in her eyes like a wet blanket on a campfire.

"Crap. Mom's gonna freak for sure. I haven't come back this beat up since..." She stops as her mind travels back to that night and curls up, hugging her legs, as the memory overtakes her.

Her breathing becomes ragged and it takes her a few seconds to regain her composure.

Her head still pressed against her raised knees, she says, "Whatever it takes, Jack. I'll do it."

She raises her head to spear Jack with a gaze blazing with furious resolve. "I know I'm not ready. But I want to be. I will be."

"I know."  He says softly, "You should get dressed.  We'll catch a cab back to your place."

Alicia looks pained at Jack. "Could I just, like, run away to some far-away kung fu temple or something? Or maybe I can have a relapse on the way over and fall into a coma."

At Jack's expression, she grumbles, "OK, OK. This is not going to be pleasant."

She wearily rises and begins gathering her stuff. Almost as an afterthought, she removes a battered cheap wallet from the pile and rifles through it.

She looks at an ID card and muses to herself. "'Ramon Antonio Valenzuela.' Huh. Probably calls himself 'Moncho' 'cause he can't count that many syllables." She pulls out a couple of $100 bills. "Whoo! Not bad. At least the day's not a total loss."

"Bad guys have money.  Keep what you need and give the rest away.  They made it by being bad.  It's like paying a tax on evil."

Alicia looks thoughtfully at the bills before slipping them into the pocket of her torn jeans. "I like the way you think."

She retires to the bathroom and dresses, wincing as the clothes scrape over her injuries. Finally, she exits, looking just slightly less disheveled than she did when she arrived at Jack's.

With a deep sigh, she intones melodramatically, "I'm ready for the firing squad, sir."

On the taxi ride over, Alicia asks softly, staring out the window, "Jack? I don't want to lie to Mom. About what happened today. Okay?"

"That's up to you.  I'm just coming along to help her understand the parts that might not make sense to her."

Alicia nods mutely, wrapped up in her own thoughts and worries.

The ride is unmercifully short. They arrive at Alicia's and make their way up to the apartment door.

Alicia hesitates, taking a couple of cleansing breaths like a swimmer preparing for a race. She unlocks the door and opens it slowly, calling out, "Mami?"

Consuelo is quick to respond. It is easy to get the impression she's been waiting quite a while for Alicia's return.

"Alicia Vega, where have you been all...?"

She stops as she catches sight of her daughter. Her face pales and her hand rises to cover her mouth. "Ay, Dios mío. Not again."

Consuelo rushes to hold Alicia against the young girl's protests. "I'm fine, Mom. Really. Ow. Careful."

The older woman catches sight of Jack at the door and gives him a mute look with an equal proportion of inquiry, gratitude, suspicion and dubious accusation.

"I'll make coffee."  Jack says, walking towards the kitchen.

Consuelo looks at Alicia.  "You gonna explain what happened or is he?"

Alicia nods meekly. "Let's sit down."

As Jack works in the kitchen, she proceeds to relate the events of the day more or less faithfully, omitting only minor things like grabbing Moncho's wallet during the fight and her decision to take on the street gangs as soon as she is ready.

Consuelo's mood shifts as she follows the tale, from displeasure at Alicia's decision to travel to Humboldt Park without letting her know, to grief at the news of little Cristina's death, to distress at the thought of her daughter cornered and attacked by a gang of thugs.

At the end, she asks the question at the top of her mind, "But why does this boy Marco want you back so bad?"

Alicia looks miserably at Jack for support, closes her eyes for a second, then says, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

The words come reluctantly at first, and then haltingly as she struggles to continue through the emotions battering her. She tells her mother everything: her petty acts of crime, her adulation of Marco, the promise of the one big job, the grueling training, the botched escape, her physical and mental torture.

Consuelo just sits quietly, her hand to her mouth, her eyes filling with horror and anguish. As Alicia finally grinds to a stop, she looks at her daughter with tears running down her cheeks, "Ay bendito, mi nena."

Tenderly, she holds Alicia to her chest, pouring out her love and comfort. Alicia's resolve finally crumbles, and she sobs as she clings to her mother, all the pent-up misery and pain finally granted an outlet.

Consuelo looks up for a moment to fix Jack with a look that he's seen before in combat-hardened faces. There is no doubt what fate Consuelo has in mind for those who would dare hurt her daughter.

The moment passes, and the older Vega focuses on consoling her weeping daughter until the young girl subsides into gasping whimpers.

Consuelo quietly asks Jack to stay while she gently and lovingly tucks Alicia in bed, kissing her good night as she hadn't done for many years.

It is a flint-eyed woman that comes out of Alicia's bedroom to confront Jack.

Consuelo asks levelly, "Did you know about this when you came to get her last Tuesday?"

"This?  You're going to have to narrow that down for me.  About her past, her boyfriend, her quest to be a better person?"  Jack pours coffee for the two of them.  "The Principal at her school and I are old friends.  He asked me if I could help her get a handle on her temper, maybe give her some outlet.  That led to me realizing she'd had training, and her finding out that someone had tampered with her memories.  What happened tonight was just her finding out what she wants."

Consuelo closes her eyes and sighs, and the anger is replaced with weary sorrow.

"Oh God, Jack. I'm sorry. It's just that hearing that... What she's been through, and I wasn't able..."

She drops to a set at the small kitchen table and buries her face in her hands. "I tried so hard to give her the best chance at a normal life I could. And it was all for nothing. When the monster came for her, I wasn't there to protect her."

"I've never gotten to do the parent thing.  I had a daughter, but never got to actually know her.  So I can't give you any comfort from the perspective of another parent.  I can tell you this though, no one can protect the people they love from everything all the time.  You taught her the values you could, and the fact that she wants to do good means that you did something right.  Now I'm going to tell you the hard part."  He takes a sip of his coffee.  "She's made up her mind.  The first steps have already been taken, the biggest one being telling you all this.  You just need to continue being her mother.  She still needs the things you give her.  A sense of family, love, and the guidance a mother gives a child.  As much as you'd like her to have a normal life, it will never happen.  You can't make it happen, no matter how much you want it for her."

Consuelo nods in mute acquiesence.

She clasps her hands on the table. "When I found out I was pregnant, there were friends and family who thought the best thing for me would be to... abort. Such an ugly word, don't you think? I said, no. I wanted my child to have the chance to live and grow and learn.

"I've never regretted that decision. No matter what. I love her, Jack. She's the one good thing that came out of..." She has to stop, her face twisted in anguish.

It takes her a moment or two to recover. "I guess the moment I saw her eyes, I should've known she couldn't escape it. But I hoped that maybe she wouldn't be drawn into the same world that made him.

"I was wrong."

She focuses on Jack beseechingly. "I can be her mother, but she needs..." She can't quite bring herself to say it.

"You can teach her how to be strong, how to use what she can do, show her a way to be herself. I have no right to ask you, but I'm doing it anyway.

"Please."

"I'll show her what I can.  I don't have what it takes to be what she wants to be.  Too idealistic, even in my old age.  But I know people who know all the things she needs to know.  Get used to secrets.  She'll gloss over what she's been doing.  She wont have a regular social life.  She is bound to show up on your door sometimes crying with no explanation.  You're strong enough to do it.  Just try to be happy that she's found a purpose.  Genetics brought her to the precipice.  From now on it's the person you've helped shape and continue to help shape that will determine where she goes."

Consuelo takes a shuddering sigh, and slumps back on her chair, her face etched with wearineess. "Thank you."

She looks forlornly in the direction of Alicia's door. "She is so willful at times. She's likely to resent being told what she can or can't do. I know what I'm asking you isn't an easy thing to do. I want you to know, no matter how it goes, that I'm grateful for your help."

She looks uncomfortable, broaching a subject she's unsure of. "If there's anything I can do to help you, I mean, in return for..."

"You keep being there for her.  And be a mom.  Set limits, all the stuff you normally do.  I'll take care of the other end."  He clears away the mugs.  "I'm gonna head home.  you have a lot to think about, but try to get some sleep."  he says, heading for the door and then out into the night.

"Jack?" Consuelo asks hesitantly as he reaches the door.

After a second, she finishes awkwardly. "I should pay for your taxi. Ah, I mean, it's the least I can do."

"No, but thanks."  He says as he exits.

Consuelo remains at the table long after he leaves; her coffee sits cold and untasted.

OOC: And... cut.