All Will Be Well

It had started in the hospital.

Amy Dallon, the heroic healer Panacea, gaped at the doctor who had just explained what was happening. "...What?"

"We don't need you this evening, Panacea." The doctor said with a smile so wide he was in danger of the top of his head floating off. "No patients in this hospital need healing."

"I… what?" Amy repeated, looking more than a little lost.

"Earlier today, a parahuman delivered an injured woman to the hospital. When they floated through the door- yes, they could fly- and handed the woman over, they saw a child sitting in the waiting area all alone." the doctor's smile dimmed. "Apparently the young man had watched his father have a heart attack and called an ambulance to get him to the hospital, but since he only remembered his family's home phone he couldn't call them at work to pick him up. The parahuman floated over to him and asked what was wrong, and why he was waiting there."

"What does that have to do with having no patients?"

"I'm getting there. The kid answers, and the parahuman nods. Then, they ask for our attention for a moment. They asked how many patients were in the hospital currently, and we gave a rough estimate. And then they smiled, turned to the child, and put a hand on their shoulder, and just said four words."

"...what did they say?"

"All will be well." the doctor said with a twang of reverence. "I… can't properly convey it enough, Panacea. When they said those words, everyone felt it. We felt… invigorated. Cheered. Like we could see the light at the end of the tunnel."

"Wait, did they master you!?"

"No." The doctor was firm. "It was only for a moment, and no one lost control of any kind. We just… knew things would be alright. That it could be alright. It was similar to your sister's aura, but more hopeful, if you follow me."

"I… what happened then?"

"They thanked the nurse and doctors and left. Then, over the next hour, we saw these blue flashes happen randomly throughout the hospital. We dismissed it as a lighting issue, so it took us a while to catch on that each flash was a different person being healed. By then, forty people were standing on their feet after being in critical condition."

Panacea's jaw dropped. "How? Even when I heal someone I have to use their own calorie stores to do it!"

"I haven't a clue." The doctor said cheerfully. "But we also noticed that all the kids, all those with terminal illness, and all those in pain were the first. And then the light got to the coma patients."

"Oh. I supposed it moved on then…"

The doctor's grin widened.

Amy felt her lips part in shock. "...you are shitting me."

"I said every patient in this hospital, Panacea, and I meant it. All fourteen coma patients. The Alzheimer patients. The children with cognitive defects. Even Mister Abernathy woke up, and he's been unconscious and on life support for twelve years. And he skipped out of the hospital to go meet his wife!"

The doctor waved a hand at the almost empty lobby. "And the effect has persisted too; people who come in walk out under their own power within half an hour. We don't know how long it will last, but we're milking it as much as we can."

Amy worked her jaw for a moment. "But… what do I do now?"

The doctor grinned. "What half the hospital staff is doing; celebrating a day off!"

Amy blinked. Then, hesitantly at first, a small smile formed on her lips and something she'd long forgotten flickered in her chest.

"I hoped this would happen every day I worked here, and now that it has happened… I don't even know what to do."

She blinked, then her smile firmed. "No, I know exactly what to do."

"Well, I'll have my phone if you need me." Amy said before walking out of the hospital; she needed to call Vicky.

‐—-

Across the country, the Chief Director of the Parahuman Response Team was staring at the monitor.

"...ma'am?" The man on-screen asked nervously.

"Director, I'm going to need you to repeat that. Then I'm going to need you to reassure me you aren't high, drunk, or mastered to hell and back." the Chief Director replied coolly.

The man nodded. "About five minutes ago, an unknown parahuman glowing bright blue teleported into the Canberra containment zone. We immediately scrambled to prevent them from leaving, but just as we got set up they called us."

"...from inside the containment zone. The heavily shielded, communications blackout-enforced containment zone."

"Yes, ma'am. I have the call recorded if you-"

"Play it."

A moment later, voices played in the office. The voice was surprisingly young. "Hello? Is this the PRT commander in charge of Canberra?"

"Unidentified parahuman, you have entered the Canberra Containment Zone. Any attempt to leave will be met with lethal force."

"Oh good, I got the right number.I just wanted to let you all know that you don't need to worry about Canberra anymore. I cured them."

"...Parahuman, please repeat."

"I cured them. The Simurgh can't control them anymore. They're a bit dazed, but they should be ready to leave in a few days."

"Unidentified par-"

"Oh, sorry, I should have introduced myself. I only started about a week ago, still new at this. My name's Saintwalker, nice to meet you!"

"...Saintwalker, prank-calling the PRT, let alone at a containment zone, is a serious offense-"

"Hey, don't take my word for it, you've got all those fancy Master-Stranger protocols right? Ask a couple folks to come in, bet you they all turn up clean."

"...we'll take that under advisement. Now as for you-"

"Oh, shoot, I need to get home, thanks for reminding me. Don't worry, I won't touch the other Simurgh zones until you're sure this one is fine. See you around!"

"Saintwalker do NOT just-"

"Don't worry. All will be well."

The Chief Director watched as the parahuman on screen rose over the city and vanished in a flash of blue. She looked at her underling. "You will go to MS containment immediately after this meeting."

"Already scheduled, ma'am, as well as anyone who listened in on the call. We've also brought in a dozen people from the zone to be examined."

"The results?"

"Not entirely conclusive, we're waiting on a few Thinkers to analyze everyone, but… they're clean. Every last one of them."

The Chief Director leaned back in her chair. "...Keep me up to date. Send everything you have on this 'Saintwalker' to the other Simurgh containment zones. And not a word of this to anyone else."

"Got it, ma'am."

As the call ended, the woman sometimes known as Alexandria felt a tiny, fragile hope build in her chest.

She ignored it. Getting your hopes up was the first step to losing sight of reality, and that she could not afford.

—-

In a backwoods town in the middle of the American Heartland, screams could be heard.

To Jack Slash, sipping an iced tea he'd pried out of a gibbering bystander's hand, it was a wonderful sound.

He smiled as he walked down the street towards the local middle school. His poppet should be just finishing up with preparations, it'd be interesting to see what game she'd made for her-

His powers screamed a warning and he quickly took three steps to the right. Just as he finished the last one, a broken body crashed into where he'd been standing. To his surprise, it was Shatterbird!

"Please surrender."

His eyes flicked up just as he flicked a knife into his hand. Floating in mid-air was a cape, surrounded by a blue nimbus of light, dressed in a skintight blue bodysuit with black accents and some strange white symbol on their chest. Annoyingly, he couldn't tell if they were male or female, or anything identifying about them; stupid Stranger effects.

Jack plastered a smile on his face. "Well, good morning to you too."

The figured sighed, looking around the burning, carnage-stricken town. "This is no good morning."

"I guess that's just down to opinion." Jack shrugged. The longer he stalled, the easier it would be for the rest of the Nine to rally to him and have some fun with this upstart.

"It can get better though." The hero(?) said, a smile tugging at their lips. "Things can always get better."

That… was not the normal response Jack Slash received. "Oh? An optimist then? How rare!" Jack laughed mockingly. "I guess these people don't mean that much to you then if you're moving on already?"

"I care enough for them to attempt to stop you. I care enough to put my life on the line." They looked at Shatterbird with a solemn expression. "I care enough to kill this woman for them when she refused to relent."

Something was itching in Jack's head, and it wasn't that annoying Stranger effect. Something about the tone. "Oh, Shatterbird was quite devoted to the cause I'm afraid."

"No she wasn't. But it didn't matter, she still wanted to kill and keep killing."

It clicked. "Wait… you tried to redeem her?" Jack asked incredulously. Hell, he nearly dropped his knife!

"She was too far gone and her victims were in danger. Otherwise…" they sighed, then focused on Jack. "So. Will you surrender?"

"And if I don't? Will you redeem me? Make me see the light?" Jack asked, hugely amused.

"If you let me." the figure agreed. "If you want. The world can only be better if we try to make it so."

They descended to the ground, extending a hand. "You can be more than this, Jack. You can be magnificent. Will you try?"

Jack stared at the extended hand. "...me? You offer me a chance?! I've killed thousands! I lead the Slaughterhouse Nine! People piss themselves at the barest hint of our presence! And you offer me a chance?!" It was ridiculous! No, it was idiotic!

The fool, the utter moron smiled! "Yes. I do."

Jack stared at the cape. Then smirked as he noted a familiar white-black figure on a nearby rooftop. "Nah."

With a grin, he slashed his knife, the arc flying true- and splashing against a blue sphere that sprang into existence around the cape. Ugh, typical.

"I see." and they sounded so sad about it, it was ridiculous! "Very well. But I cannot let you continue as you have, Jack Slash."

"Not very heroic of you, turning around and trying to kill me." Jack laughed. He could see the Siberian slinking closer out of the corner of his eye, looked like she wanted to play with her food.

"Offering you a chance at all was more than most heroes would ever give." they pointed out.

Jack grinned; the Siberian was just above. "Well, I'll fondly remember you in the future, 'hero.' Mostly due to laughing when I tell people about you-"

His power screamed in his ear, and he leapt back as a blur of white-black slashed at where he had been standing! He rolled to a ready position-

"What the fuck!?"

The Siberian straightened from where she had torn a furrow in the street, but she was… different. The perpetual disdainful, feral air was gone, replaced with eyes that glinted with intelligence and determination. Her posture was wrong, not lazy and eager for combat but tall, almost regal.

And she was wearing clothes. Specifically, a matching bodysuit to the cape confronting him.

"No." Jack breathed as horror dawned. "You Mastered the Siberian?" he hissed, another knife flicking into his off-hand.

"I did no such thing." The hero sounded affronted, as if this wasn't already against nature! "I simply talked to Professor Manton."

Jack paled. No one was supposed to know about Manton. Hell, some of the Nine didn't know about the Siberian's true master! How the hell had this bastard-

Wait. Jack recalled that Manton hadn't checked in two days ago, and the Siberian had been looking… lost for that time, like she was listening to a conversation only they could hear.

He'd ignored it at the time, Manton had still been following and the Siberian was still there, what did he care? But…

"It took some time. He was in so much pain, had such burdens on his soul." Jack felt a chill go down his spine as the cape continued. "He had to face some painful things about himself. But…" she looked at the Siberian with a small smile. "He wanted her to be proud."

What the hell did that mean? No, it didn't matter. He just had to stall, Hatchet Face should be here soon and then-

"The rest were… tricky." the cape continued. "I had to knock out Burnscar for now, she was distraught when I removed her blinders, so to speak. Mannequin almost committed suicide, but he's currently sleeping it off too."

No. No, she couldn't have…

"Hatchet Face… he wouldn't listen, tried to threaten his hostages." they sighed. "Crawler is too obsessed to reason with for the moment. I'll retrieve him from orbit when I have more time to work on that."

Orbit?!

"You saw what happened to Shatterbird. And Bonesaw…" their eyes narrowed. "What you did to that girl, Jack Slash, nearly made me kill you outright, no chances at all."

"So you killed her?" he smirked.

"What? No! She's patching up victims in the school as we speak, cussing up a storm. Crawler's a terrible influence apparently."

What? No, no no no, he'd spent the most time on little Reilly, she was his best work, she was his!

"You think that all matters?!" Jack snarled, his smile shattered into a rictus of hatred. "You think this will stop us?! We're the Slaughterhouse Nine-"

"No, you are the Slaughterhouse Nine. You've kept an organization of pain and terror alive for years and you've gone unopposed because of fear and misguided caution."

The figure rose into the air. "I am Saintwalker, first representative of the Blue Lantern Corps on this planet. And for the hope of this world, the Slaughterhouse Nine will die today."

Jack Slash turned and ran. He could get away, rebuild, he would teach this fool a lesson they'd scream about-

His power wailed in alarm, and he leapt aside, but while he dodged the sizzling ray of blue light he didn't quite dodge the clawed fist that went through his skull a moment later.

Danny Hebert trudged up the drive, bone-tired. This wasn't unusual. In fact, it was unfortunately common these days, working late to try and keep the Union afloat. Today, however, he staggered gait was different, his expression wondrous instead of a picture of exhaustion.

As he stepped up onto the front porch, he stumbled in his distraction, already cursing as his foot came down on the step he knew was rotten-

-and touched solid wood instead. Blinking, he looked down at the new step, puzzled as he tried to remember when that was done.

…come to think of it, the paint on the door was new too, a deep yet cheery blue. "...What?"

He pushed open the door, wondering for a moment if he was at the wrong house, but no, there was his coat rack, there were Taylor's shoes, there was the photo with Annette-

Before the normal twinge of heartache could sink in though, he had to stop and stare.

"...Taylor?" he called.

"In the kitchen, dad!" he heard his daughter call back. Cheerfully.

It was only a week ago that she started sounding like that again. After she'd worn him down and gotten him to agree to homeschooling. After she finally came clean about Winslow and Emma. After he'd finally stopped and listened-

"Go ahead and get your boots off, I just got the floors done!"

Danny's self-recrimination was cut short as Taylor poked her head around the corner with a mock-glare. "And if you mess up my hard work you don't get dessert."

Despite himself he chuckled as he raised his arms in surrender and kicked off his boots, earning a satisfied nod from Taylor before she vanished back inside.

Walking into the kitchen was just as strange as the rest of the house; it all looked… well, not new, but bright. Cheerful. Cracks had been fixed, everything dusted, every surface gleamed with polish and effort.

"Taylor, did you do all this?" Danny asked, an odd sensation coming over him.

"Hm? Oh!" Taylor looked up from where she was pulling a lasagna- her lasagna- out of the oven. "Yeah, I got my reports done early and the rest aren't back from grading yet, and I just got so restless that I just… started with my room. And then I did the hallway, the bathroom, and it kind of just… kept going?"

Danny couldn't help but smile at his daughter's chatterbox words, slowly returning at last. And the house… it felt like new!

…No, no, it felt like her. Like when she got in one of her cleaning moods and decided to get the family involved, and played music and made the old house glow with comfort and home.

"...You did a great job." Danny managed to croak, the pain at remembering her soothed by seeing something that he never thought he'd see again…

"I'm glad." Taylor said as she slid a plate in front of him. "...you okay? You look kind of out of it, dad."

Danny managed to pull himself together. "I… it's been a very odd day, Taylor." he carved a piece and chewed, the memories warming him even as his grief flared, as it always did… if a little less than usual.

"Oh? How so? Wait, don't tell me those Empire idiots showed up again…" his daughter growled.

He shook his head. "No, they've been keeping their heads down. That new hero in town, Saintwalker, she showed them up pretty hard last time. And today, she…" he paused, eyes unfocused.

"...she what?"

"...She moved it. The tanker." Danny said almost breathlessly as he stared sightlessly at the far wall. "Made these big, blue hands and just… picked it up and dropped it off in the scrapyard."

"...Holy crap."

"Language." Danny replied automatically, though inwardly he agreed. "And then she came over and…"

"...Dad, don't you dare leave me in suspense."

He shook his head. "She said she wanted to negotiate with the union, wanted to sell us a salvage title to make a quick buck." he laughed, a little wheezily. "I was senior man on-site and so I asked what her asking price was."

"Wait, she was selling the tanker as salvage?"

"Legal too. Had the papers and everything. I asked her price… she just looked at me with this massive grin and said 'Didn't you hear me? I said a quick buck. One dollar. If you can get it to me in the next minute.'"

Taylor bit her lip, and started snickering. Danny couldn't help but snort. "Poor Kurt, I practically mugged him when I realized I left my wallet in the office."

Taylor did laugh then, and Danny relished how it made his soul a hundred pounds lighter. "I handed her the first bill I could find, which ended up being a twenty. She gave me this look and I just blurted out that it was a bonus to keep us in mind if she had any more salvage she wanted to unload."

"Balls of steel, dad."

"I was mostly trying not to panic or do cartwheels in the lot." Danny admitted ruefully. "She just laughed and took the bill, and said she'd keep us in mind and that it was a pleasure doing business." He flicked a hand. "Then she just… flew off."

Taylor collapsed in a giggle fit and Danny had to join her. After a minute she looked at him. "But dad, this is great right? I mean… you'd have to employ the whole union just to begin to scrap that thing!"

"Well, we've lost a lot of guys." Danny sighed. "And we need to keep some people off the job so we can keep our clients in other areas."

"...but?" His daughter urged, a smile tugging at her lips.

Danny couldn't have stopped the grin growing across his face if he tried. "But with that tanker gone… and with the money we get from tearing it down… we could get the equipment to start doing more salvage. Fix up the area. Open the port, finally."

"Even get the Ferry started again?" Taylor hinted, beaming.

Danny felt the stirring of something he'd never thought he'd feel again as he beamed right back at his daughter. " Even that. Little Owl, I think everything's going to be alright."

—-

Taylor listened at the door, waiting until she heard her dad's door close.

With a smile, she slipped out of her room, looking around the house. She may have fibbed a little to her dad about how long it took to clean, but she had actually done most of it manually. And the look of awe on his face as he stepped in had been well worth it.

Many people would think that, after having triggered, she'd say the best part of her powers were the flight, the super strength, the power constructs she could create. But honestly, the best part was the feeling.

You could call it empathy, but that felt so… small for how it felt. At first she thought it was a curse; she could feel the despair of everyone in the city, feel the rot. She'd curled up in bed crying the first few nights…

But then, she'd saved her first person, a black woman being mugged by the Empire. And the sheer, beautiful light that she'd seen bloom inside her had been…

She had no words. A chatterbox like her, struck dumb! And when she'd brought that injured man to the hospital, and realized that the blue light she held could do so much more than just blast and lift things…

She couldn't have stopped herself if she'd tried. She'd started seeking out those lightless pits of despair and did something about them. One by one, piece by piece, she'd channeled years of frustration at people doing nothing for her into doing something for others!

And those grey islands of apathy just… ignited. A sea of blue hope, all around her. It was wonderful.

She smiled down at the ring on her finger. She didn't need it, not really, but something about the little blue band seemed… appropriate, somehow.

With a flex of power, the ring glowed, lighting up the home of her family and making her laugh as she shifted into costume, floating out the back door.

Brockton Bay, her dad, the world… there was so much that needed fixing, needed help. But so long as they kept trying, as long as they kept hoping…

Taylor smiled as she flew upward, looking to the stars. "All will be well."

A/N: Just a little drabble, had an idea for BlueLantern!Taylor. I did try to work in the oath at some point but it felt too cheesy.

Saintwalker's line though... hell yes. And no, Taylor doesn't have any memories of the DC universe, just little... nudges, every so often.

This is as far as I intend to take this story, but if anyone wants to build something else off of this, you have my blessing.