2.01 – Dreams and Dreams

Leona woke up bright and early to greet the dawn. Despite the night’s interruptions, she felt refreshed and actually pretty good. The sun was streaming in cheerfully through the window, painting the room in soft golds and warm yellows. She’d always shunned it a bit on hot days, but it felt pretty nice now. She yawned and stretched, her arms reaching high above her head, feeling the delicious ache of loosened muscles as sleep melted away. Her neck popped audibly as she leaned into the stretch, earning a small, satisfied groan.

Her eyes fell to the glass globe, finding the feathers that had been within turned to ash like she remembered. The jagged remnants looked fragile in the soft morning light, a reminder that what she’d experienced last night certainly hadn’t been a dream. She stared at it a moment longer, lips pressing together in thought, before letting the memory drift. She reached out as though to touch it, her fingers hesitating a fraction of an inch away from the blackened remains, before pulling back with a soft sigh.

She shrugged, shook off the lingering unease, and leapt up energetically, darting to the bathroom for her morning ablutions. The bathroom mirror greeted her with her own tousled reflection, her hair sticking out in every direction like a bird’s nest. She snorted and reached for a comb.

“Morning, bedhead,” she muttered to herself, laughing softly as she scrubbed her face vigorously. The cool water was a shock against her skin, chasing away the last vestiges of sleep. She brushed quickly, savoring the crisp minty flavor on her tongue, and mentally ticking off a list of plans for the day. As the lingering fog of sleep finally cleared, the enticing aroma creeping up from downstairs pulled her focus entirely.

An amazing smell wafted through the house, rich and savory, making Leona’s stomach growl loudly in anticipation. She practically drooled at the thought of it. BACON!

Leona pranced happily into the kitchen after bounding down the stairs, the soles of her feet thudding lightly on the wooden steps. Her grin was infectious as she burst into the room, sunlight dancing through the windows. The tantalizing smell wrapped around her like a warm hug, instantly boosting her already buoyant mood.

Goonie smiled warmly, her hands expertly flipping strips of bacon in the skillet. “There’s our girl! I take it this means you got better rest in those warm and dry sheets.” Her voice carried a maternal warmth, the kind that made you feel wrapped in love, even when the words were tempered with subtle authority.

Quinn, however, glared balefully at Leona from across the table, her dark eyes smoldering with irritation. Her hair was slightly disheveled, and she clutched a coffee mug like it was her lifeline. “Hmpf… dancing into the kitchen like some kind of little star after you woke me up with all that bumping and banging around.” Her voice was rough with annoyance, and she jabbed a thumb upward toward the ceiling. “Bathroom’s right over the office, in case you forgot.”

Leona winced, instinctively stepping back. “I’m sorry, sis!” she said, putting her hands together, eyes wide and glistening with exaggerated, almost comically apologetic puppy-dog pleading.

Quinn huffed but didn’t entirely suppress the amused twitch of her lips. “Oh, sure. You’re sorry now, but where was that sorry when you were stomping around like a rhino?”

“You’re both still in trouble,” Goonie interrupted gently but firmly, raising a hand before Quinn could retort. “I know what I said in the heat of the moment last night, but don’t think the slate’s been wiped clean. This breakfast isn’t a reward.” Her spatula pointed briefly between them, punctuating the statement. She paused, softening her tone as she added, “You’re both going to need a good start to your day today, so don’t think me unfair. I still love you two, and that will never change.”

Quinn’s lips quirked into a mischievous smirk. “You’re telling me you’re cooking bacon and it’s not a  reward, Mom?” Her tone was all teasing, her eyes glinting with barely restrained laughter.

“It is not a reward,” Goonie replied, arching a brow. “Do you want to have just eggs and toast?”

“Nuuuuu!” Quinn protested dramatically, dragging the word out with a grin. “Doesn’t matter how little sleep I got. Worth it to be woken up by the sweet, sweet smell of bacon. Can’t stay mad with bacon on my plate.”

Goonie rolled her eyes, laughing softly. “Have a seat, Leona.”

Nodding quickly, Leona obeyed, sliding into her chair with eager anticipation. Goonie soon brought two plates forward, setting them down with practiced grace. Leona’s eyes immediately caught the slight charring on the bacon and the overly firm scramble of the eggs, but the scent alone made her mouth water. Carnivorous meals like this were rare, heart-clogging indulgences Goonie generally avoided—but today, oh today, was a gift!

“I love you, Goonie!” Leona crowed, diving in, savoring the salty, smoky crispness of the bacon with ravenous enthusiasm. Each bite sent a wave of savory bliss through her senses, and she chewed slowly to prolong the joy, though her hands moved with a speed that betrayed her eagerness. Meat was seldom served at home, and this was a feast to her.

Quinn mirrored her excitement, chowing down just as eagerly, her enthusiasm spilling over as crumbs scattered across the table. “You’re the best, Mom,” she murmured through a mouthful, though her eyes darted nervously toward Goonie as if gauging whether her bold declaration might be met with a reproach about table manners.

Goonie, unperturbed, sat with her usual oats and fruit medley, the serene sight of her calm and collected as always. Her peaceful presence anchored the bustling energy in the room, a quiet reassurance that despite the storm of the previous night, things were steady this morning. She seemed utterly content, the steam rising from her mug of tea swirling gently in the sunlight.

Despite her vegetarian habits, Goonie had an undeniable knack for cooking meat, though her timing was always a little off, hence the burnt edges. Leona glanced up from her plate, watching as Goonie took another measured sip of tea, her tranquility filling the space.

“You always know how to make it just perfect,” Leona said between bites, her voice muffled but earnest.

“Well, someone has to,” Goonie replied with a sly smile, setting her mug down. “But let’s not make it a habit. I don’t want to hear about clogged arteries in a decade, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Quinn and Leona chorused, raising forks in mock salute before diving back into their plates, drawing a soft chuckle from Goonie.

After breakfast, the siblings cleared the table and began washing the dishes, their movements practiced and fluid. Quinn scrubbed while Leona rinsed, their chatter filling the space with playful jabs and exaggerated gripes about who was doing more work.

“Don’t just rinse, Leona—actually check if it’s clean before you hand it to me,” Quinn teased, flicking a small splash of water her way.

Leona gasped dramatically. “How dare you question my quality assurance process!” she shot back, laughing as she retaliated with a light splash of her own.

“Enough, you two,” Goonie interjected, her voice mild but effective. She sat nearby, hands wrapped around her mug, the steam curling lazily above it as she watched them with a mixture of amusement and fond exasperation.

Once the last dish was put away, Leona started to slip toward the door, but Goonie’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“For the time being, you won’t be punished much. At least, not until the Padua facility decides whether or not they’ll sue us.”

Leona froze, glancing sideways at Quinn, whose rare expression of guilt was almost comical on her usually confident face. Leona felt the weight of contrition settle on her chest, a pressure that grew heavier as Goonie’s words sank in. She nodded slowly, her mouth suddenly dry.

Goonie’s tone softened, but her gaze sharpened as she pointed toward their chairs. “You two, stick around for a little longer.”

Leona quickly reseated herself, exchanging a nervous glance with Quinn before shifting her eyes back to Goonie.

“We’re going to have another little heart-to-heart,” Goonie continued, her voice steady but weighted with expectation. Her eyes settled on Leona. “We didn’t really say all that much last night.”

Leona’s stomach knotted, her pulse quickening as she braced herself for what was coming. She tried to sit straighter, though it felt like the chair was swallowing her whole.

“I know you miss Sarah,” Goonie said, her voice gentle but insistent. “But you have to trust her. Whether or not you knew what was going on last night, you always have a choice. You should use your voice when you need to.”

Leona hesitated, her hands wringing in her lap as the knot in her stomach twisted tighter. “I do trust her,” she murmured, though the words felt hollow, like they were more for Goonie’s benefit than her own.

“I love you, Leona,” Goonie said, leaning forward slightly, her face softening as her eyes locked onto Leona’s. “But…” She paused, sighing deeply as she rested her chin in her hand. “You can’t just do what you want. You know you were raised better than this. It might seem fun, and sometimes it might even be the right thing to do, but you need to think about the consequences.”

Leona nodded again, her throat tight. “I’ll do better,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible.

“You’re smart enough to know how,” Goonie replied, her tone encouraging but firm. “And I’ll be here to remind you when you forget.”

Leona opened her mouth to speak, but Goonie continued, her tone more pointed now. “As you get older, you’ll have more responsibilities. That includes taking responsibility for your own actions, even when you feel like someone else is coercing you.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward Quinn, a subtle rebuke embedded in the glance.

Quinn snorted softly, leaning back in her chair with an expression of exaggerated innocence, but she didn’t interrupt.

“It’s easy to envy Quinn,” Goonie said, her voice lightening, laced with teasing. “She’s not a bad girl, but she’s not a very good one either.”

Quinn mock-pouted, crossing her arms dramatically. “Hey, I’m sitting right here, you know.”

Leona giggled, and even Goonie cracked a small smile, though she carried on as if Quinn hadn’t spoken. “She’s downright willful.”

Quinn grinned mischievously, the teasing lilt returning to her tone. “Takes one to know one.”

The humor broke the lingering tension, Leona laughing more freely now. Even Goonie allowed herself a chuckle before shaking her head with affectionate exasperation. “I just don’t want you getting into trouble by developing this girl’s attitude.” She paused, her eyes twinkling. “At least not all the time.”

Quinn’s smirk widened as she leaned forward on her elbows. “Not all the time, huh? That’s almost a compliment. I’ll take it.”

Goonie reached over to pat Leona’s hand, her tone softening. “There’s no shame in learning to stand firm, but there’s also no harm in staying cautious. Balance, my girl. Balance.”

Leona thought the conversation was wrapping up and began to rise, but Goonie shook her head, her expression serious again. “Not yet. Although the lecture’s over, I need to ask you about last night.”

Leona froze mid-motion, her stomach tightening as she sank back into her chair.

“I don’t know what was bothering you,” Goonie said, her tone gentler now. “Your dream, I suspect. But if you need to talk, you know your Auntie Goonie—your mom…” Her voice wavered briefly, her eyes softening. “You called me that, and it meant more to me than I can say. I’d never have asked it of you, and you still...”

Leona’s throat tightened. The vulnerability in Goonie’s voice was rare, and it pierced through her usual defenses. She nodded slowly, her lips pressing together as her emotions swirled.

“My sister was dear to me,” Goonie said, her voice growing wistful. “I could never replace her. And yet…” She paused, shaking her head slightly as if to brush the sentiment away. “Well, enough of that mushiness.”

Leona’s eyes shimmered, and for a moment, the room was filled with unspoken understanding.

But Goonie’s tone shifted as she pressed on. “I had a terrible nightmare myself. I told you I didn’t sleep well, and it was because of that dream. In it, you were kidnapped.”

Leona’s pulse quickened, her stomach knotting further, but she forced herself to stay calm. “Kidnapped?” she echoed softly, her voice tinged with nervousness.

“In my dream,” Goonie continued, her expression darkening, “you were upset with me about something I said and stormed out. These really bad men snatched you up almost immediately.”

Leona tried to muster a reassuring smile, though it felt thin. “I’m sorry you were scared for me,” she murmured.

Goonie sighed, her lips pressing into a tight line before she let out a weak laugh. “Maybe it’s just the Alzheimer’s setting in,” she said lightly, her tone betraying a trace of fear. “I swear I’m getting older faster every day.”

Leona leaned forward, her voice firm with sincerity. “I know that you’re not a replacement for Mama, but even so you’re just as special… in a different way. And you’re my mama too.”

Goonie’s eyes filled with tears at Leona’s words, but she blinked them away quickly, clearing her throat. “Hah… I’m glad you feel this way.”

She reached out to brush a strand of Leona’s hair behind her ear, her hand lingering a moment before she leaned back with a small smile. “Okay, you’re both free to go about your day, you two. But don’t wander too far, and you’d better answer your phones if I call.”

Quinn shot up with her usual breezy energy, grabbing Leona’s hand and pulling her along. “We got it, Mom,” she said with a grin, steering Leona toward the door.

Leona hesitated, squeezing Goonie’s hand briefly before letting go. “Love you, Mom,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth.

Goonie’s smile was gentle, her eyes following them as they left. “Love you too,” she murmured.

Leona had worn her pajamas to breakfast, the soft fabric warm against her skin, but she left the kitchen with a smile tugging at her lips. Calling Goonie "Mama" still embarrassed her a bit, but it also felt right, like it filled a space in her heart that she hadn’t known was empty. It meant so much, and though it left her cheeks pink, it didn’t feel wrong. She pressed a hand lightly to her chest, as if to steady the warm flutter there, before making her way upstairs.

In the bathroom, Leona studied herself in the mirror, her reflection familiar but still worth scrutinizing. She leaned closer, her breath fogging the glass slightly as she exhaled. She tilted her head, catching the light differently, almost expecting to see something... off. Searching for any changes, any signs that the dream—or what she thought was a dream—might have left a mark. Her fingers ghosted over her cheek, then down her neck to her collarbone, but everything felt ordinary. Her face, her body… it was all the same.

There were no glowing marks, no ethereal aura, nothing to suggest she was anything more than a regular girl. And yet, the lingering memory of transformation gnawed at her. She pressed her palms flat against the cool sink, closing her eyes. Images from the dream resurfaced with startling clarity. The radiant form she had taken—so powerful, so unlike her mundane self. She remembered the statuesque figure from her dream and blushed deeply. Could it really have been just a dream? A fantasy? Was she sleepwalking?

Her hand drifted to the hem of her shirt, tugging it up slightly to check the skin beneath. She half-expected to find something hidden there: a sigil, a scar, something. But all she found was her pale, unmarked stomach. She sighed, feeling a pang of disappointment mixed with relief.

She bit her lip, considering the possibility that her subconscious had conjured it all from a deep yearning to be more like her heroes, not to mention her deep desire to be a real girl. She wished desperately that it was possible to change her DNA, let alone correcting all the little imperfections she had to live with. Her dysphoria aside, Leona had a desperate desire for something bigger, something beyond the simplicity of her current life. Her thoughts raced as she replayed the dream in fragments: the way power had surged through her, unbidden and exhilarating. But if it wasn’t a dream… did she really have powers? And if so, what kind?

Leona shivered, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air—or maybe against the thoughts circling in her head. She thought of Black Angel’s power over singularities and darkness, the void she wielded with terrifying ease. The look in her eyes as she’d wielded destruction without remorse. Reporters sometimes caught some good footage of things she did, but many lacked the courage. Would she fall the same way, corrupted by her abilities? She shook her head fiercely, catching her reflection as her jaw set in quiet defiance. No. She wouldn’t let herself fall.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Hey, girl,” Quinn’s familiar voice called. “I’m heading out. You wanna come along?”

Leona startled slightly but quickly pushed herself upright, straightening her shirt. She opened the door to find Quinn leaning casually against the frame, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.

Leona put on a bright smile to greet her sister. “Yeah, that sounds good. I need to get moving—but not in my pajamas.” She laughed, trying to shake off the heaviness of her thoughts, though the last remnants lingered like smoke.

Quinn snickered, reaching out to tousle her hair. “Nah, they’re adorable, but that’s your choice.”

Leona batted her sister’s hand away with a mock glare, her grin widening. “Don’t push it.” She turned, heading toward her room, the earlier tension easing with each step. “Where to, though?”

“Nothing crazy,” Quinn promised, though the mischievous glint in her eyes made Leona suspicious. “I ordered a custom deck, and it just came in. We’ll pick it up and maybe grab some lunch on the way back.”

Leona paused mid-step, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “But your car was impounded… in the middle of nowhere.”

Quinn blinked, then laughed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. “You caught me. We’re hauling it home the old-fashioned way and I’m volunteering you.”

Leona groaned, dragging a hand down her face as she shook her head. “You’re impossible.” But despite her exasperation, she felt the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. This was Quinn, after all. Chaos was part of the package.

“What have I gotten myself into?” she muttered under her breath, heading into her room. She grabbed a fresh pair of socks from a drawer, tossing them on the bed as she rifled through her closet. Eventually, she settled on a comfortable outfit: a cami with a cartoon version of Mistral emblazoned on it—her favorite piece of fan merch—and a pair of distressed jeans with fashionable holes over the knees. She took a moment to double-check that her gaff was secure, smoothing her hands over the tight fabric and feeling more at ease. Comfortable and cute.

She slung a tote bag over her shoulder, pausing to tuck her phone into the inner pocket before heading downstairs.

Goonie was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, her stance as unyielding as the expression on her face. “Where are you two going?” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it carried the weight of expectation.

Quinn came down beside Leona, her usual breezy smile plastered across her face as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “She’s just helping me carry the deck I ordered,” Quinn said innocently, her voice pitched a touch too high. “You remember I mentioned it?”

Goonie’s brow furrowed slightly, her eyes narrowing in that maternal way that always seemed to pierce through Quinn’s casual bravado. “Promise you’re not doing anything else foolish,” she said, leveling a look at her eldest.

Quinn’s grin widened, her tone lilting with mischief. “When do I ever do anything foolish?”

Goonie arched a skeptical brow, her silence speaking volumes.

Leona bit back a laugh, watching the familiar dance between the two. Quinn always tried to push her luck, and Goonie always brought her back down to Earth.

Goonie sighed, rubbing her temples as if to stave off a headache. “No car,” she said firmly. “One of us still has to work today.” She wagged a finger at Quinn, punctuating her point. “But I’ll give you bus fare.”

Quinn groaned theatrically, her arms crossing under her chest. “Ugh, buses. I thought so.”

Leona smirked, leaning against the banister. “So… we’re hoofing it all the way to the mall then?”

Quinn shot her a look, half-annoyed, half-amused, before turning her attention back to Goonie. With an exaggerated sigh, she extended her hand, palm up. “All right… bus fare, please. I don’t want the tyke getting tired from all that walking.”

Goonie chuckled softly, shaking her head as she reached into the pocket of her apron. She pulled out a few crumpled bills and pressed them into Quinn’s outstretched hand. “There you go. ‘Thanks, Mom,’” she prompted with a teasing smile.

Quinn accepted the money with a reluctant grumble, her bravado momentarily dimmed. “Thanks, Mom,” she mumbled, tucking the cash into her pocket.

As Quinn turned toward the door, Goonie leaned in close to Leona, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Thanks for acting like she’d have to walk the whole way. That got her thinking a bit more.”

Leona grinned, enjoying the subtle victory. She glanced at Goonie, her lips quirking into a playful smile. “I aim to please,” she whispered back.

Before she could say more, Quinn groaned loudly from the doorway, her foot tapping against the floor in exaggerated impatience. “Clock’s ticking! We gotta get to the bus stop ASAP. We might miss the next one!”

Leona rolled her eyes with a playful huff, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she jogged to catch up. “Yeah, yeah, coming. Try not to melt while we wait for the bus.”

Quinn smirked, tossing an arm casually over Leona’s shoulders as they stepped outside. “I’ll survive, but you owe me a snack for this hardship.”

Leona laughed, nudging her sister’s side. “You’re impossible.”