Slowly waking up in the arms of her lover, the sun shining through the windows and warming her face. A few brief stolen kisses before she slipped out of bed, intent on starting the day. Alec had the gift of a few extra moments sleep, but May wanted to get things moving. It wasn’t just about her anymore. There were two other souls that needed her to shuffle them along. Carolina, their first born and the more obstinate of the two, was not a morning person. She usually needed a little extra prodding to get going, and May wondered if it would always be like this. The kid was only facing down the looming responsibility of kindergarten, what would it be like when she was a teenager? Alec liked to joke that she was as stubborn as her mother. Well, it wasn’t really a joke if it was true. May felt some sudden, inexplicable need to counter it now, before their daughter ended up just like her.

Ash was different. Ash was his father’s unique intellect and way of thinking, paired with his mother’s sense of humor and laidback attitude. At three years old, the kid was already smarter than everyone. He still woke up way too damn early in the mornings, just like he did when he was an infant, but May had come to an arrangement with him. If their young son were to ever find himself awake before the rest of the household, and if the clock read a time that was after 5AM, then he had permission to quietly watch his favorite channel in the living room, HGTV. May knew she would find him there now, already hearing the sound of the television drifting down the hall. She had sensed when he’d gotten out of bed an hour earlier. A mother always knew.

passed the living room as she made her way down the hall. “Ash, go brush your teeth—”

“But they're putting in subway tiles!”

“Now, please.”

“Okay, but can we have pancakes?”

“We can if you hurry.”

She could hear the sound of young Ash jumping off the couch, his footsteps running down the hall to the bathroom while she continued on to Carolina’s room. Just as expected, the five year old was still in bed, burrowed head to toe under the covers. May smirked, shaking her head slowly as she stepped further into the room, taking in the pale pink walls and stuffed animals, the artwork on the walls and her mother’s favorite stained glass suncatcher hanging in the window. There were glittery handmade butterflies and a flock of colorful paper cranes hanging from the ceiling near the bed. Next to their firstborn’s bed sat a vase full of flowers she had picked with her father, starting to wilt. She hadn’t been replacing the water.

“Rise and shine, cupcake,” May announced, gently shaking her daughter’s shoulder and smiling at the way she groaned in reply. “Time to get ready. Mama’s making pancakes.”

As soon as she saw Carolina sit up, and knew she wouldn’t go back to sleep, May left the little girl to her own devices. She was trustworthy enough to wash up and get dressed for school on her own. May headed to the kitchen and began cooking breakfast, making what must have looked like enough for an army. To her, it almost wasn’t enough. Her children practically inhaled pancakes, one after the other. She mixed the batter in a bowl, pouring it out on a hot iron griddle, shuffling around the kitchen like clockwork. While the pancakes cooked, she started the coffee, and while the coffee brewed, May laid out strips of bacon in a pan. It felt seamless and easy, like a routine she had done hundreds of times before.

As she worked, and the minutes ticked by, May shouted over her shoulder, “Ash! Lina! Move it!” She could hear her daughter’s vague shout in response, indecipherable but an answer all the same. “I won’t have you late for school again!”

She was popping a ceramic container of syrup into the microwave to heat it up a little when Alec appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, still in his boxers. He still looked half awake, his hair adorably mussed, and just the sight of him made her grin. She was stacking pancakes on a plate, a pile of crispy bacon next to it, when she shouted their names once more. A look of confusion crossed Alec’s face when she did, and the mere absurdity of his expression would have given her pause in any other circumstance. But it was as if her brain wouldn’t allow her to register, to catch on that something might be askew. Nothing was askew, as far as she was concerned. Things had never been more right.

Before Alec could say anything though, May was sufficiently distracted by the sight of their young son running into the room. Ash’s beaming face was running up to her, and she couldn’t help but smile, bending over to kiss the top of his head. He had dressed all by himself, one of his more recently acquired skills, one he was still proud of showing off. “Well done, my love, go sit at the table.” She patted her son on the head and watched as he ran to the table, shaking her head as she began to dish out two plates of pancakes and bacon. She set each in front of seats at the table, watching her son as he excitedly reached for the syrup and began to pour an exorbitant amount on his plate. “Ash, that’s too much syrup, save some for your sister.”

She could hear Alec sigh behind her, but she paid it no mind, distracted by the sight of Carolina wandering into the room and seating herself at the table. “Eat up, Lina—”

Alec was picking up the phone as she turned away from the table, with the sort of expression on his face that told her something was off. She just couldn’t put a finger on it. ”May, stay here. I’m going to shower and when I get out we’re going to talk,” Alec told her in no uncertain terms, but for the life of her she could not figure out why he felt they needed to talk. Her brow furrowed, and she frowned, briefly wondering if she had done something wrong. But she knew she hadn’t.

“But I have to take the kids to school,” May frowned, studying Alec with confusion. She could hear the kids giggling in the background at the sight of their father in nothing but a pair of boxers, but she paid them no mind.

”Not until I get out of the shower. Promise me.”

Her frown deepened, one fist coming to rest on her hip as she listened to the instructions of the love of her life. She knew this tone. Knew what he was really saying. “Fine,” she said, shaking her head, “but hurry or they’ll be late.”

She watched him go, dialing the phone and lifting it to his ear as he went. And truly, her intention had been to follow his wishes. She snacked on bacon while the kids ate, listening to the sound of the shower beginning to run, to Ash’s silly jokes and Carolina’s every single worry about the school day ahead. “You gave me carrots for lunch Mama, right? I want carrots.”

“Carrots are gross,” Ash proclaimed.

“Daddy says carrots make your eyes strong. I want to see through walls,” Carolina pinched her thumbs and index fingers together, bringing them up to frame her eyes like glasses. “Like Superman.”

May’s eyes drifted to the clock, getting more agitated the further the hands moved. Alec was taking too long. “Yes, you both get carrots—”

”I don’t want carrots!”

“You will eat them and like them, Ash. I mean it. I…” May trailed off, eyes fixating on the clock once more. Suddenly, she couldn’t stop herself. They couldn’t wait for Alec anymore; any longer, and the kids really would be late for school. “Hurry up and finish, get your things. We have to leave in a minute, or else you’ll be late.”

The children bickered the entire time she prodded them to finish their breakfast, to get up and collect their things and hurry out the door to her car. The sound was such a distraction that May completely forgot to leave a note for Alec as she pushed them out the door. Surely he would understand, she thought. He had taken too long, and the kids needed to leave. She would just pop over to the preschool and drop them off. The location wasn’t far, and she figured she could drop them off and hurry home to listen to whatever Alec had to say before much time had passed.

After all, it was like any other morning. *

Some matters you do have to handle yourself.

She remembered these words. They rang in her head as if they had just come to fruition, as if a year had not passed since they had been uttered. They carried Mera’s resolute tone, wry and suffering no fools. Courting a vengeance that was perhaps ill-conceived, but purposeful in their anger. It wasn’t all that dissimilar from the first time, when she had felt so powerless that the shedding of blood by her hands had felt like justice. Justice now meant death, now meant vengeance for their circumstances; setting everything right. Nearly a year ago, she had found herself doing as much. She could still feel the sensation of metal cuffs ghosting her skin, negating her ability, just like she could still feel the electric collar she had been saddled with in January. A tangible reminder of her powerlessness. A year ago had been the beginning of this knowledge, knowing that there would be no going back. There would be no returning to the world she once knew, to elaborate underwater palaces or trappings of royalty; to the mundane existence of human life. There was only this.

“Ma’am, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Look again,” May all but gritted her teeth. She was losing her patience and she couldn’t help it. The kids were quarreling at her feet, and this receptionist had the gall to tell her that there was no record of them in her system. It didn’t make sense. They had processed the paperwork weeks ago. Had Alec not turned it in like she’d asked? No, from the expression on this woman’s face, it almost seemed as if she couldn’t even see the children. Like they never existed.

Which was ridiculous. It was unfathomable. She damn well wasn’t blind, so what was this woman’s excuse? Children made noise, her children especially made noise, and the thought that someone could just pretend they didn’t exist was infuriating. That had to be what it was. Pretending. This woman had to be a stone-cold bitch of a cunt who was trying to get rid of her, because otherwise, this creeping, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was real. She wasn’t crazy. She couldn’t be.

“Ash, Lina, cut it out!” May finally snapped, torn from her thoughts by the maddening sound of Ash singing a teasing song and Carolina retaliating by lunging at him. She pointed them to two separate chairs. “Hands to yourselves, or so help me god, I— what are you doing?”

The receptionist had been inching closer to a telephone on the other side of the desk, and it took no time at all for Mera to notice, and interrupt May’s frenzied anxiety. It was easy to pick up on when your senses were heightened. The gentle buzzing of foreign thoughts, knocking at the back door of her mind. The voice of others. She could hear everything, even the smallest fraction of a step across the linoleum floor. Her blue eyes locked on the woman’s face, reading her expression as her hand hovered over the telephone receiver. She knew the intention. She had heard it in her thoughts. That paired with the look on her face told Mera everything she needed to know.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Mera told the woman slowly. She knew what this woman thought of them. She knew that as far as this lowly receptionist was concerned, they were a crazy woman standing in the lobby of a preschool, claiming to have children enrolled there. Children this receptionist could not see. Suddenly, Alec’s reaction to her at breakfast was starting to make a lot of sense. And she was angry. Maybe not at this woman in particular, but the circumstance. It broke open old wounds, making her feel a familiar sense of powerlessness. An inability to change the situation — not just now, but in general. She could not make this woman see what she saw, just like she could never go back to the life she once had. She could not make this circumstance suit her, just like she could never pin down the enemies who had put them here, in man’s world. She could not set this right.

Nearly a year ago, she had tried. She had sought to take down great power, after nearly losing her chance. They had taken away her ability to breathe underwater, and her host had almost died. She had wondered what became of the convergence when the body that two souls shared suddenly perished. Would she finally go home, to her own dimension? Or was it final, her last shot before the afterlife? Nine months ago, she had fought her best friend when she had ignited with the fiery powers of the Phoenix. She had tried to set that right too, but in the end, everything had led to this. She could vanquish whatever threat of the day was at her doorstep, but she would always end up powerless to change their situation. Not that she didn’t wonder what she would do if she had the opportunity. Perhaps she could not change her situation, their situation, but it had put her on a whole new path. It had forced Mera to look at her life differently, to consider her options more carefully. She no longer regarded the surface world as she once did, with disdain. It had its charms, even if many of those who inhabited it were foolish. She looked at her life now as before and after, forging a new identity with the help of the past. No longer wife or queen, but allowing those roles to influence her as she moved forward. It had been with the swamp monster at her side that she began to learn how to integrate, how to reconcile two very different sides. She began to learn her worth, to understand just how capable she was. She had thought she’d known before, but this world taught her differently. It was so much more nuanced than her own. Emotion felt differently. Passion felt differently. She didn’t know what she would ever do without him. Just as his human half had learned May, Alec Holland had learned every inch of her, and she was starting to believe she was better for it.

Perhaps that was why he was dangerous. To her, there had always been a certain degree of danger to change. Change made you vulnerable. She was not the woman she once was, and to Mera, it left her defenseless and open to defeat. All her past experiences told her as such. It had been that way in every dimension, every period of her life; from her time as a young girl in the oppressive waters of Xebel to crossing the portal and cresting into a torrid romance with Arthur, to being crowned and adventuring with the Justice League, and everything in between. From the loss of Junior, to every dark night she had spent in the netherworld. Every crimson wash of rage, every near death, every strategic choice that left her careening towards the worst possible scenario. It seemed impossible to lead without embracing change, and yet impossible to escape change without irrevocable damage. No amount of strategic choice could fix that, and it was a painful thing for Mera to admit. Her world made so much more sense when it was black and white, when it was a series of battlefield decisions and calculation. When she could blissfully pretend she was capable.

She knew the truth. She was incapable. She was two shakes away from losing it, particularly now, as she stared down one very confused school receptionist.

“Ma’am, are you threatening me?”

“If that is what it takes,” Mera simpered, and the shift was so immediate. She didn’t blink, or even flinch, at the jarring sound of a flower vase exploding behind the woman. She tilted her head and smiled at her reaction, a mix of shock and outrage that left the receptionist nearly dropping the receiver in her hand. Behind her, she could still hear shrieks of surprise coming from the children — the same ones this secretary could not see — the same ones Mera was beginning to understand were some kind of illusion. Perhaps the children were a figment of their imagination, but even with this knowledge, the sight and sound of them to her were real, and for a brief moment, May’s instinct was to tear away altogether and comfort her young son.

“Who are you?” The woman was shaken. She was a mix of horror and confusion, looking back at her like she had just stumbled upon a terrible secret.

Mera raised a brow. She knew this feeling. It was a blend of the way she had felt for her firstborn, whenever sweet Junior with the baby soft curls had been thrust into peril, and false memories of Ash and Lina. The dogged, desperate struggle it had been for May and Alec to even conceive, everything that had come before and after. The ultrasounds and injections, the clinical strain on their relationship, the constant wondering and waiting. She felt as if she had spent a lifetime watching her little snowflake and her swamp monster travel down that road. She was invested, apparitions or not. She felt May’s motherly instinct as her own. And no amount of rationalization could stop her from what she did next.

“You need to leave, I won’t tell you again,” the receptionist said, dialing 911 with trembling fingers. As her anger peaked, so too did the pulse of energy that Mera felt in her fingertips. It rushed outward, overwhelming her senses as it made contact with a glass soda bottle, shattering it into pieces and sending the liquid flying, eliciting a shriek from the woman as some of the shards grazed her forearm.

“And you need to learn some respect,” Mera noted, taking a few ominous steps forward. “Is this any way to address a queen?”

“Police, I need police!” The woman spewed breathlessly into the phone, stumbling backward as Mera stepped closer. Mera smirked, shaking her head slowly, barely able to center her focus around the hair-trigger anger she felt — around the sound of ghostly children exclaiming their fear and worry, or May’s stunned babbling.

Is this what you call handling it?

This was handling matters. This was lashing out at matters in general, consequences be damned. This was retribution for a circumstance she had no control over, with a woman who just happened to be in the way. This was her recognition of powerlessness, of futility and loss. It was acknowledging what she had long been coming to understand; that she was incapable of so much more than she thought. It had begun with the miscarriage her host had suffered, like a tidal wave that took until only now to crest and swallow her whole. What else was there left to do? They were merely pawns in a game, forever at attention for the next deception, the next nightmare, the next inexplicable chaos. She was frustrated. She was angry.

Oh, yes, this was handling matters.

With the flick of a wrist, Mera shattered the glass walls of an aquarium filled with colorful rocks and betta fish, sending gallons of water spewing in all directions. The whole thing happened with such kinetic energy that the entire lobby was damp afterward, two brightly colored red and blue fish flopping around on the floor.

“Oh my god — just get here! She’s crazy! She’s—”

Mera said nothing, leaning down to scoop up the two fish in her hands. They stopped flopping in her presence, as if the mere essence of her was enough life force to keep them going, their gills expanding and contracting as if they were still underwater. In many ways, these fish were like her. Like them. Prisoners behind glass.

The pipe underneath a nearby drinking fountain suddenly burst, flooding the lobby with water as the receptionist screamed and dropped the phone. They were drawing attention. There were staff members trying to look through the windows, and she could already hear the sound of police sirens in the distance.

“You will look again,” she told the woman simply.

“Leave. Now.”

Mera grinned at the shaking woman, wading through ankle deep water towards her. She allowed the two fish in her hands to swim off around the perimeter of the lobby, while she arched a brow at the receptionist who had become a pain in her ass. “You will look again, or I will show you what it takes to dehydrate an entire human body.”

She could not stop herself, resolute in her demands as the water flooded around them, soaking paperwork and children’s drawings. But the sound of tires screeching into the parking lot outside, paired with running footsteps and drawn weapons, was certainly enough to give her pause. She could only laugh as she was taken down to the ground and handcuffed, and put up no fight. There was no use.

It certainly wasn’t vengeance, but in a way, it felt like justice.