Her head hung, “I… don’t think I can leave like that.  I wanted to, before all of this, but my zaydee, my grandpa, he refuses to leave, and he can’t take care of himself when the city’s like this.  It’s why we didn’t evacuate.”

Zaydee? Sounds like an implication of Charlotte’s ancestry and culture. I’m not going to google it in case I’m wrong and it’s just a Worm thing (though I find that unlikely), so I’m going to guess that it’s a word from a Native American language of some variety.

“You could tell your mom and grandpa some of what happened.  That the Merchants got you, that you got away, that you don’t feel safe here.”

Yeah, if the grandpa remains stubborn after that, I don’t think I’ll like him very much.

She buried her face in her knees.  “No.”

Oh? Not willing to tell them about it, is that the issue?

“Okay.  So that leaves option two.”

Here we go. If option one is leave, option two is stay. And I don’t just mean in the city.

“I’m not going that route,” I told her, “I don’t want to be that kind of bad guy.”

Oh, okay, sticking to the honesty.

She looked up at me.

“I’m improvising, and you’re going to have to forgive me if my ideas are a little rough around the edges… but two ideas spring to mind.  Number one is that you leave.  I’m offering you an out.”

…

Is my idea actually happening? Because if one option is leave, the other is…

“Leave?  The city?”

I nodded.  “Leave Brockton Bay.  You have any family here?”

Oh.

“My mom.  She’s doing the training to join the construction crews.”

That might put her in contact with Danny.

“You’d leave the city with your mom.  Put all this behind you, the ruined city, what happened at the mall, me, everything.”

Given the state of the town right now, and what Charlotte has been through, it probably wouldn’t be hard to convince her mom without saying “a villain is forcing me to”.

Though I guess the question of “how did you get away” would come up anyway.

“I’m a villain,” I agreed.

“And you’re going to tell me that if I ever open my mouth, you’ll kill me.”

Yeeeah, no, that’s not how this particular villain works. Better still keep it shut, though.

“That is one option.  Or, theoretically speaking, I could hurt you or your loved ones.”

And for the purposes of making her do that, some bluffing is in order.

She deflated, which was pretty impressive given that she hadn’t exactly been brimming with vigor before I’d opened my mouth.

*makes the sound of a balloon letting out air*

It was like she didn’t even have the energy to be afraid.

It’s been a long day. Plus however long she spent with the Merchants.

I sighed, “Look, Charlotte, I’m not your enemy.”

Always good to establish that.

“You saved my life,” she said.

Yeah, I’m glad she acknowledges that here.

Although, as I’ve said, it’s worse grounds for trusting someone than many think.

“That’s maybe an exaggeration.  I saved you from being assaulted by those men, probably-”

I was kind of thinking the same thing, but the way Taylor’s getting cut off here makes me think Charlotte is about to give us more details that show how staying would likely have led to her death.

I could see her shrink into herself.

“-I’m sorry.”  I finished, lamely.

Oh, never mind, Taylor was cutting herself off.

Yeah, I guess this technicality isn’t the best thing to remind Charlotte of right now.

“You’re a villain,” she said, and it took me a second to realize it was more of a non-sequitor than an admonishment for reminding her of what had nearly happened to her.

That moment of confusion is entirely fair. Then again, it doesn’t really need to be a non-sequitur, per se – she might be bringing it up as an implied question about “why”.

But it’s also important as a moment of acknowledgement of that fact out loud between the two of them.

She shook her head with a glum expression on her face.

Seeing that, I answered her question from before, “I brought you here because I wanted you to know that our group isn’t just a few kids in costumes running around.  We’re an organization.”

Oh damn.

Yeah, if she wasn’t already intimidated…

“I don’t want to know this!” she said, clutching her pants leg in her hands.

Ahh, she’s gotten terrified of knowing even more too much than she already does.

“You need to,” I started.  I was about to go on to say something more, but I was distracted as another group of soldiers entered the room.  They carried a white cooler between them, and set it at Bryce’s bedside.

Another group? Subservient to Dr. Cleese, maybe?

I lost my train of thought as I watched to see if Bryce was okay.

The cooler was opened, and bags of blood were hung on the wall beside Bryce.

Oh, going for a blood transfusion?

Once that was done, the soldiers wordlessly carried the cooler out the door.

See ya, maybe.

“Charlotte,” I frowned, “Look up at me.  Meet my eyes.”

Reluctantly, she did.

“I’m not stupid,” I told her.  “And as cute as that whole cliche is, you and I both know you saw everything.

This is serious.”

Yeah. No ignoring this.

She looked at the scene to our left, the doctor, Bryce, Lisa and Minor.  Leaning towards me, she whispered, almost plaintive, “Why did you bring me here?”

In part to have this conversation, I guess. Doesn’t hurt to get checked over by the doc, though.

“Because you’d already seen too much.  There was no avoiding it.  We couldn’t hide it from you without leaving you behind, and neither of us wanted that to happen, right?”

Fair.

“You don’t need to do anything?” She made it a question, a request.

That depends entirely on how much Taylor can trust you.

Honestly, I like the idea of this Arc ending up as Taylor collecting civilian subordinates, with Sierra, Bryce and Charlotte all ending up living in the Hive (although Charlotte might have a family to go back to) and working for Taylor.

I don’t think it’s going to happen, especially with Bryce, but I think it’s a neat concept.

“You’re the first person who knew me that knows about this.”  I paused.  “Or knew of me.”

Huh, yeah. In all the other cases, it’s been the other way around, with people finding out who Skitter is under the mask rather than finding out who Taylor is when she puts one on.

(The mask needs not be physical.)

She looked down at her hands, “I- I don’t… I didn’t see anything.”

Sure you didn’t. Just keep up that story towards others.

I moved into a cross legged position on the bed, adjusting the pillow behind me to keep the headboard from rubbing against my back.  I pointed, and told Charlottte, “Sit.”

Good job making her less spooked.

Although that might not be your goal. The spook in her might be your best bet to keeping your secret, besides gratitude.

She obeyed, but she sat on the edge with her legs dangling, her body twisted to face me, as if she wanted to be able to run at a moment’s notice.

I don’t think John Cleese would let her.

I feel like it says something that I thought about that before the six Coildiers standing outside the door.

After some consideration, I frowned and told her, “I don’t know what to do with you.”

Honesty. Good starting point.