"Can't believe it's already time," Carmela says, fiddling with her hands.

Taylor nods and tries to look relaxed, but her heart's in her throat. The detention centre that's acted as her father's home for the past three years stands before them, a towering building of stone and metal. It makes her nervous.

Héctor gives his niece a long look, his dark eyes soft, and he reaches out to pat her shoulder. When she looks at him, he smiles softly and lifts his hands.

"It'll be okay," he signs.

Her hands tremble when she signs back, "I hope so."

She's not the same girl she was three years ago, but her papá isn't the same man either. She can't imagine he would be and she's prepared for it. She expects a stranger with her papá's hazel eyes and tanned, calloused hands.

The front door opens and a uniformed guard steps out, holding a clipboard.

"Fuentes?" he calls, voice strong and unwavering.

Carmela steps forward, jittery like a hummingbird, always in motion. Another guard exits and then, there's Jack. Taylor's throat tightens at the sight of him.

He's wearing a plain blue t-shirt, grey gym shorts, and a pair of slippers. He carries a small cardboard box in his arms. He nods and offers a small smile to the guards and one tips his hat to him. Then, he's walking towards his family, a free man.

Carmela bursts into rapid-fire Spanish as she rushes up and hugs her little brother. Taylor hears some of what she's saying, jumbled as it is, as she frets, fiddling with his messy raven-black hair and stubbled chin.

"Carmela, Carmela, I'm fine," Jack says with a tired smile. "Really."

"Oh, good," she sighs. She cuffs him on the back of the head and he winces. "Idiota!"

"Ay, ay, ay...I thought you missed me," he mutters, awkwardly shifting his cardboard box as he reaches to rub the back of his head. "Ay, hermana..."

Héctor moves forward to relieve Jack of the box in his arms, waving at him, and Taylor feels like she's grown roots. He's like she remembers, just a bit older, a bit more tired.

His eyes flit to her and his shoulders sag. "Taylor?" he asks.

She averts her eyes. "Hola, papá."

He pushes past Carmela and moves to her and her instinct is to hug him, but it's like her brain won't let her. She stays still, overwhelmed, numb, unsure in every way.

"Dios mio, you've...you've grown. You've...become a young woman overnight," he says.

His words are almost whispered, like he's convincing himself that she's really the preteen he left behind. She doesn't blame him—a lot has happened since they last met and admittedly, she didn't visit him. It was hard to squeeze it in between being in a gang and being on probation.

His eyes are dewy, red-rimmed, and he holds out his arms. "Have you got a hug to spare, mi pequeña?"

She promised herself she wouldn't cry, but the tears flow as soon as she's got her arms around him. He smells like bar soap and shaving cream, but it's still her papá, and he's warm and solid when he hugs her tight.

"Welcome back, papá," she whispers.

----------

Of course, a happy reunion can only last so long, and now Taylor really wishes she was somewhere else. The kitchen smells wonderful—Carmela is making chicken enchiladas, one of Jack's favourite meals, and Taylor is pretty sure nothing smells better on this earth than her Tia's cooking.

It's just the conversation side of things that's tough. Jack's knowledge of ASL is and always has been rusty and watching him do his best to sign a conversation with Héctor leaves Taylor with secondhand embarrassment. It's lessened by Héctor's good nature, gently correcting movements and getting Jack to copy him as they go.

Maybe she and her papá can go to lessons together as a bonding activity? It could be worthwhile.

"So, Jack!" Carmela calls from the kitchen. There's a centre island blocking her off from the dining room but she can still be seen clearly, cooking away as music plays over her old radio. "Has Taylor told you about her boyfriend?"

Taylor sputters. "Tia!" Way to come straight out the gate with that topic. Héctor lets out a soft laugh, putting his hand over his mouth even as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Jack's eyes widen. "A boyfriend? Are you old enough to have a boyfriend?"

"I'm seventeen," she says with a small huff, arms over her chest. "So yeah, I am."

"You'll love him, Jack! He's Italian, I think. Muy bonito, ah?"

"Sort of," Taylor mumbles. She's pretty sure Raphael doesn't conform to normal human ethnicities and even if his human form passes as some kind of European, he was mutated from a Japanese man's DNA, and his last name is Japanese. It's a mess.

"Oh, that's...great!" Jack says with a nervous smile. "What's his name? How'd you meet?"

Taylor's stomach curls. She pictures a rooftop at night, her guitar, Raphael's bright green eyes staring at her from the shadows.

"Um...his name's Raphael," she says. "We met while I was...busking. He liked my music."

"You still play guitar?" Jack's eyes soften with pride. "That's so good to hear."

"Oh, she loves it!" Carmela cuts in again. "She's so talented, hermanito! She could play for you!"

She flushes. "Maybe later." At least the conversation has shifted away from her mutant boyfriend.

"I'd like that," Jack says. "I'd like that a lot."

The wall-mounted phone rings and Carmela shifts the chicken off the stove, wiping her hands on her apron before she picks it up.

"Hola, Carmela Ortega speaking," she says. After a second, her expression twists. "Bianca?"

Every head turns to Carmela, even Héctor's. He reaches to turn his hearing aids up, eyes wide, and Jack's face loses a shade. Taylor's upset stomach gets angrier.

"You have a lot of nerve calling now!" Carmela snaps, hand on her hip. "Si, he's here, but you don't need to talk to him!"

"Carmela," Jack murmurs, getting to his feet.

"Oh, don't you dare try me with—" Carmela starts.

Taylor stands up, crosses to her aunt, and takes the phone. She puts it to her ear, heart pounding.

"Mamá, is that you?" she asks.

"Taylor!"

The way she says her name is smooth, accented, and it makes her name rhyme with "door." Her mother's voice is familiar yet so foreign that Taylor doesn't want to believe it, and it floods her body with the strangest mix of longing and hatred that she hasn't felt in a long time.

"Oh, mi princesita, it's so good to hear you!" Bianca continues, unabashed. "You're going to be so happy. I have the biggest surprise for you!"

Taylor grips the phone a little tighter. "Yeah?"

"I'm coming for a visit! I'm bringing the whole family. It'll be like a big party! Oh, I cannot wait!"

Taylor's mouth feels dry. It's been seven years since she left, seven years since she flew across the ocean and pretended she never had another family, and now...now she's coming back. Why? Why couldn't she just stay away?

And why does Taylor still really want to see her again?

"Cool," she says flatly.

"I'll let your tia know when we're flying in! See you soon, darling!"

She hears her mother blow her a kiss and then the line goes dead. Taylor slams the receiver down, shoulders shaking, trying her best not to let her anger flow out of her eyes.

"That...that woman," Carmela mutters. "The nerve! I oughta—"

"I'm going to my room," Taylor mumbles. She doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to think. "Lo siento."

She hurries upstairs to her bedroom, pulling out her phone as she goes.

To: Raphie <3
Please come and get me.
I need to get out of here.

----------

"Your dad's out of jail and your mom's coming to visit?"

Taylor kicks a spray of pebbles off the rooftop. She's still stuck between fuming and crying her eyes out.

"When it rains it fucking pours," she says.

Raphael watches her pace, arms crossed over his chest, lips pursed. "I take it you're not excited."

"Oh, gee, I wonder why I wouldn't be?" she snaps. He blinks once at her, raising an eye-ridge, and she stops pacing as she presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Mierda, I'm sorry. I just...just..."

"Your mom abandoned you and now she wants to come back into your life like nothing happened," Raphael says, deadpan. "And she's probably going to leave again after."

Her bottom lip trembles as she turns to him. "But what if she doesn't? What if...she suddenly wants to stay?" What if Taylor doesn't want her to stay? What if she does?

"Would that be a bad thing?"

"I don't know."

She walks to the edge of the building, where there's a small ledge, and she sits down with her back to it, hugging her knees as she rests her chin on top. She exhales and looks up at Raphael through her lashes as he purses his lips.

He comes a bit closer, uncrossing his arms as he goes. "You're pretty conflicted, huh?"

"Yeah, big time." She sighs again, shaking her head. "She...she left when I was ten, Raph. She doesn't know me anymore and I thought she didn't want to know me. If she does, and that's why she's coming, why is she doing it now and not...?"

When I was in trouble and needed her, she thinks to herself. It feels too hard to say it out loud. She didn't have a mother for the toughest part of her life, be it puberty or the Purple Dragons, and her biggest fear right now is that her mamá is going to come waltzing back in like nothing has changed and there's no bad blood between them. Like she didn't bleed her papá dry and disappear from the continent without a hint of remorse.

Raphael's hand appears before her and when she looks up, his expression is firm, but expectant. He makes a "come hither" gesture with his fingers.

She frowns a bit even as she reaches for him. "What...?"

"Come on, you said you need to get out of here, right?" he asks. "We're not nearly far enough away."

He pulls her to her feet and leads her towards the fire escape. She grips his hand a little tighter.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

She raises an eyebrow. "Suspicious..."

He snorts. "Just trust me, Tay. My bike's in the alley."

"Bike?" she repeats.

"Technically, the stealth cycle, but you know."

They climb down the fire escape to the alley and, for a good few seconds, she isn't sure what he's talking about. Then, she sees the dark grey vehicle tucked away in the shadows and her eyes widen. The stealth cycle, at a glance, looks like an asphalt-coloured shell on wheels, but then Raphael opens it and there's a low-riding seat and handlebars like any other motorcycle inside.

Raphael climbs in, then looks at her as he tosses her a red football helmet. "Don't be shy."

She eyes the helmet even as she comes closer. "Where do I sit?"

He lounges back, one elbow propped up, and shrugs nonchalantly. "Well, two options. One, you can sit behind me." He pats the small ledge behind him, probably not meant as a seat but could still work. "Or you can sit on my lap."

"Oh, both sound muy tentador," she says, batting her eyelashes a bit.

She pops the helmet over her head, then makes her decision, climbing in behind him. The seat is small, but she can hook her legs around his shoulders to help her hold on. He chuckles, reaching for the handles and flexing his hands on them.

"Good choice," he says.

"Where's your helmet?" she asks.

"If we get in an accident, I can pop inside my shell." He revs the engine once, although when it's running, the bike is surprisingly quiet. It's a stealth vehicle for a reason, she supposes. "Besides, I don't think I'd like the chancla beating tia would give me if you got hurt because of me."

She smiles softly to herself at the sound of Spanish on his tongue, slightly stilted, but purely him. "True," she says.

He grips the handles, flashes her a handsome grin, and shifts in his seat. "Hold on tight, babe."

And they're off.

----------

Taylor has never actually ridden a motorcycle. It was one of those things she always wanted to do but never really had the chance to.

She loves it.

The cycle rides smoothly and she wishes she could take the helmet off and let the wind run its fingers through her hair. They ride through the sleepier streets of Manhattan and head towards downtown, blowing past Washington Square Park and continuing downtown.

Taylor's lived in New York her entire life and yet, right now, seeing the Empire State Building in the distance, she feels like she's seeing it all for the first time.

They've just passed Central Park when Raphael starts to slow down. He pulls into an alleyway, pulling the bike to an easy stop, and Taylor swings her legs off his shoulders as she hops down.

"I thought you were just taking me for a ride," she says.

He hides the bike, gives her another conspiratorial smirk, and motions her to him. "Come on, we're gonna need to take the rooftops."

He turns and she hops onto his shell, piggybacking him, and he deploys his grappling hook. They sail up to the roof, land, and he grips her thighs as he shifts her once more.

"Good?"

She hugs his neck. "Mhm-hm."

He takes off. It doesn't take long for her to realize where they are, especially once they're running across Julliard's roof.

"The Lincoln Centre," she says, half to herself.

"Yup."

She hugs him a little tighter, lips by his ear. "You're full of surprises, aren't you, Raphael?"

She feels him shiver a bit as he grunts an affirmative. It makes her smile.

They pass Julliard, grappling across West 65th Street and landing on top of the New York Public Library, then there's one more jump to the Metropolitan Opera and Raphael slows to a stop. He sets her down, eyeing their surroundings for a second, before taking her hand and leading her forward.

She hears music.

Her eyes widen and Raphael smiles at her as they reach the edge of the building. Far below them is Damrosch Park and, by extension, the Guggenheim Bandshell. The park is packed with people and alive with lights and music as a band plays on stage. The music is interesting—it sounds like folk, but there's a distinct electro quality. The members on stage play different string and percussion instruments: violin, mandolin, banjo, bass, guitar, drums.

"Dios mio..." Taylor breathes.

"I tried to find something punk or rock," he admits, leaning onto the concrete barrier keeping them from the building's edge, "but nothing was playing. I was planning to take you here later in the week but...I figured—"

She jumps on him, pressing a kiss to his lips. She pulls away, giggling, arms still draped over his shoulders. "This is perfect! Gracias, Raphael. Gracias!"

"Wait, really? You like it?"

"I love it!"

"Even if we aren't...super close to the action?" he asks. He rubs the back of his neck. "We can come back when I've got a human patch, I just didn't bring one today and—"

She presses her fingertip to his lips, leaning in close, and she shakes her head. "It's perfecto." Punk and rock may be her favourite, but music is music, and she'll take it.

His shoulders relax. "Oh, good. Good."

She returns her attention to the music as a song ends and the crowd roars their approval.

----------

"You know, I kinda wanted to go to Julliard when I was little."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but I don't think it'll ever happen for me. It seems too...pretentious, even if it's one of the best, you know?"

The night is winding down. The band keeps playing their strange mix of electro and folk music down below. Taylor leans on Raphael's chest and looks up at the sky as he traces lazy circles on her skin.

"You could," he murmurs.

She shakes her head. "I'm not made for that. I...don't really know what I'm made for."

"Well, it's not like you don't have time to figure it out."

"That's true."

The sound of guitars and violin tickle her ears, soothe her nerves as she lets her eyes close. She pictures a field of wildflowers on a warm summer day. Blue skies. Her in a pale pink sundress and Raphael by her side.

"Thank you," she murmurs, cuddling closer to him with a sigh. "For tonight. This is just what I needed."

"Glad I could help," he replies. She feels him run his hand over her hair, strands threading through his fingers. "Shell, you're...you're beautiful, you know that?"

She looks up at him and his expression makes her heart feel like it's melting. It's soft but his eyes burn with passion that lights her nerves on fire. She sits up, eyeing him for a second before she climbs onto his lap, cups his face in her hands, and brings him in for a long, slow kiss.

He groans a little into her throat. "Tay..."

She pulls away, but doesn't leave his space. Again, she bats her eyelashes. "Something wrong?"

He grips her hips, swallowing as he leans closer. Their lips brush and her eyes fall closed again. "Nope. Everything's...everything feels right," he breathes.

She couldn't agree more, at least in this moment they share.

----------

Taylor opts to sit in Raphael's lap on the way home. He puts the cover over the stealth bike and she cuddles against him the whole ride back. She slides through her bedroom window and he follows her in.

She stretches, letting out a tiny yawn, and she heads to her bedroom door. Raphael wanders to Bindo's tank, squatting down to coo at the tiny turtle.

"I'm gonna check on the family," she tells him. "Do you mind...sticking around?"

He glances up from the cage. "Yeah, no problem. I think the guys can handle patrol."

She smiles, slipping from the room and shutting the door behind her. Downstairs, things are quiet, and she finds Héctor seated in the living room with a book in hand.

She stomps her feet a bit as she approaches him and he looks up. He smiles when he sees her, waving, and she waves back before signing, "Where is everyone?"

"Asleep," he replies. He presses his hands together as if in prayer and presses his cheek to them, feigning sleep for a second before grinning again.

She returns his smile. "Gonna go to bed. Talk tomorrow?"

Again, he nods. "Goodnight."

She comes closer, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead, then hurries back upstairs. Raphael is seated on her bed, letting Bindo crawl around on his hands, and she slowly closes the door behind her. There's still a fire in her belly, ignited by music and motorcycles, and Raphael looks especially irresistible right now.

"So..." she muses, keeping her voice low. Raphael glances up at her as Bindo waddles across his palms. "Tio's the only one awake." He nods slowly, raising an eye-ridge, and she bites her lip as she reaches back and clicks the lock on her door. "He won't hear anything, you know?"

His eyes widen slightly. "Uh-huh..."

She pushes off the door, reaching to the hem of her shirt and pulling it off in one swift movement. Raphael's eyes bulge like he's never seen her body before. She puts her hands on her hips as his lips part.

"You're sure your brothers can handle patrol, right?" she murmurs, thumbs hooking on the waist of her jeans as she wiggles her hips.

"Definitely," he says quickly. He gets to his feet, Bindo still in hand as he looks down at him. "Sorry, buddy, daddy's got something important to do."

She giggles. He's quick to close the space between them.