Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life

Guardian,

a Worm/Destiny Crossover

Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life

This was not where it was supposed to be.

It looked like it was, certainly. The stars were where they should be. Each planet rotated and revolved in exactly the same way they should. Everything was cosmically accurate, which meant that as lost as it was, it wasn't too lost. That was the good news, and likely to be the only good news it received for a while. Because while the planet beneath it was definitely Earth, and the people living on it were definitely human, that was the extent of things as they should be.

Everything else was wrong.

There were too many people, and yet not enough. Too many cities, not enough ruins. Places that should be, weren't, and places that shouldn't be, were. People down there were doing incredible things, and this was familiar to it, but they weren't using Light to do it. That was biggest wrong it could see, obvious even in its damaged state. Earth should be shining, a brilliant island of light and life in a sea of encroaching dark. It should have been the last vestige of a once-great people and the point from which they would reclaim everything that had been taken from them.

Instead, it was only a planet. Only. If it were capable, it would have laughed. There was nothing only about any planet, let alone the one it hung above now. Where was it going with this? The damage it had sustained must have been worse than first measured, for its thought processes to be derailed so thoroughly and with such ease.

Perhaps it was avoiding looking because it already knew what it would find. Perhaps if it kept looking at everything what it kept searching for would somehow appear. That would be a miracle, but then it had come from a place where miracles happened every moment. A tremor rocked its tiny frame and, were it capable of doing so, it would have coughed.

Time was running out.

Time was running out for the Ghost, for the Guardian it had yet to find, and both of those things paled in comparison to one simple, inescapable fact: the Traveler wasn't there. Imagine waking up one morning, expecting to see your parent – the being that created you and shaped you and gave you life and purpose – and then finding only the space where they used to be.

For the Ghost, the knowledge that it was entirely alone and dying was both jarring and unexpected. It was unexpected and yet an outcome it knew from the beginning might happen. The search for a Guardian was a dangerous one. Going to places empty of life and Light in the possibly vain hope that the person they sought would be there was not devoid of risk, after all. From the moment it was created the Ghost knew it could fail and up until that moment, had never considered its own end.

It was running out of time. Best, and most optimistic estimates put its eventual end at one week from then, sooner if it by some miracle found somebody down there capable wielding the Traveler's Light. Once again the Traveler's absence crossed its awareness, and it once again thought of the people down there who had never experienced life as it could be. With sensors that were only half as strong as they once were, and diminishing rapidly, it scanned the world beneath and would have winced, had it the face for doing so.

Darkness may have not found this Earth, but the mark of it lay over the world just the same. For a moment the Ghost almost wished it had been this world the Traveler found, if only to heal the wounds it saw below. The moment passed, and it found itself drifting lower, passing though wispy clouds and gathering condensation on its warped, fractured shell. It stopped, tens of thousands of feet in the air, and considered. The odds of finding someone down there capable of being a Guardian were low. Where it had come from had once been been a civilization of trillions, and yet the number of active Guardians were just shy of half a million. The Earth it now floated above would be lucky to have more than a dozen.

The Ghost would be very lucky indeed if it found one before it died. That, of course, did not mean it wouldn't try. It split apart, exposing its core of pure Light, and pulsed. A circle of faint blue expanded from it, ranging away out over the horizon, eventually circling the Earth and coming back to its point of origin. Or it would have, had the Ghost been at its full power. As things were now, it was surprised to be able to cover the North American Continent.

"If I actually find anyone I might drop dead of surprise." it mumbled, voice synthesized, metallic, yet holding a dry, warm humor. The scan finished a moment later, and the Ghost reassembled itself as best it could. "Of course, I'm pretty much dead anyway, but..." It stopped in the middle of its moment of morbid humor and, had it a mouth, its jaw would have been hanging free in shock. It had found someone. Someone who just now, right at that moment, was breathing her last.

The Ghost's frame trembled with excitement, joy, and fresh determination. "Hang on, Guardian." With speed far diminished, yet far beyond any vehicle in existence, it darted down towards the Eastern Seaboard of the United States of America. "Your Ghost is on the way."

=+= Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life =+=

Taylor was fairly certain they hadn't been trying to kill her when they shut her in here. Granted, her skull was cracked and her brains felt like the scrambled eggs she'd had for breakfast that morning and had vomited up not long ago, so the odds of her being in her right mind were not favorable. Even so, attempted murder didn't really fit the pattern their previous actions had established. Petty, childish, emotionally abusive and destructive, certainly, but murderous? Not really.

An intrepid ant made its way across the nape of her neck. At least, she thought it was an ant. It was probably an ant. Or a hallucination of an ant. She'd had a few of those, too. Probably. Either that, or the back of her locker really had turned into bread, cheese, her father, and a large dog at one point or another. This actually brought an important question to the front of her possibly damaged, definitely fevered mind. How long had she been in here? Time had gotten wobbly pretty soon after her first, most violent attack of puking.

So they weren't trying to kill her, this had been established. So why then, did she feel like she was dying? Her heart alternated between racing fast and hard against the cage of her ribs and beating so slowly she was certain it had stopped between pulses. Even if insects weren't crawling over her skin, she felt as if they were inside of it. She no longer distinguished between sources of pain, or was no longer able to, so she couldn't tell if she'd broken anything on the way in. There were problems with breathing through her nose, so it being broken was likely.

Her eyes fluttered and she fought to keep them open. An instinct, deeply buried by her civilized, safe upbringing told her that if she let her eyes close it would be for the last time. "I don' wan' to die." she mumbled through lips that might have been thick and swollen or may have been just fine. "Don'...don' let me die here." There was no answer, of course. Clearing out the room had been the first part of today's seemingly harmless prank.

Taylor didn't want to think about that, though. She didn't want to think about how heartbroken she'd been to be abandoned, then bullied by a girl who'd been her best friend since childhood. She didn't want to think about how shitty her life had been since she started high school. She didn't want to think about these things because she wasn't certain which of her thoughts would be the last.

Was she dying? She didn't feel like it anymore. In fact, she felt kind of...good. Well, maybe not good, but definitely better. Maybe her foot had slid and her new position was more comfortable? There wasn't a lot of room in here, especially for someone as tall as she, so...

Hang on, where was she going with this? Any moment could be the one where her battered, bleeding self finally threw in the towel and she was complaining about the space?! Then again, it was an important thing to think about, and growing more so with the advancing edges of gray in her vision. Because if she was thinking about the locker, and how cramped it was, she wouldn't be able to think about how she'd probably never see her dad again.

Despite her best, most valiant effort, her left eye closed, and no amount of trying could get it open again. "No' like this." she begged. "Please. No'...No' like this." But no one was listening, it seemed. Or at least, anyone who had been either didn't care, was no longer around, or deaf. Taylor tried to find the strength to fight. To kick or shout or wiggle. If she could get free then maybe, just maybe, she'd be okay. The thought was a good one, but pointless. She didn't have the strength. She didn't have anything left, in fact.

Well. There was just one thing. A small speck of light. Her right eye slipped closed and she went still, her last breath leaving her in a small sigh. Just before she lost all awareness, there was a voice in the dark. A voice that spoke four words.

Those words?

"Oh, no you don't."

=+= Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life =+=

Life and breath came back to Taylor in the same moment. The sound of her sucking air into her starving lungs was loud in her ears, as was the buzz of the overhead fluorescent and the rush of blood in her ears. She could hear the sound of dozens of people walking, the squeaky impact of sneakers on tile floor multiplied a hundredfold and the dull roar of overlapping conversations.

Her throat worked, swallowing acidic saliva that tasted faintly of blood and vomit and she gagged. Oh, please please please don't let me puke, she begged, I'm so tired of puking. Someone must have been listening, or she just had nothing left in her stomach to hurl up. She breathed deeply, slowly, and considered the latter to be more likely. Then something weird drifted across her gradually solidifying consciousness.

Her clothes felt scratchy. Like they were woven from thick, coarse, woolen threads. On top of that they were soaked through with a variety of unpleasant bodily fluids. They dragged wetly across her skin with every breath. The tile beneath her bare arms and neck were cool and soothing, yet she was aware of the tiny pebbling across the surface of each tile touching her skin. Of course, each thing her newly found awareness brought to her attention diverted her from the worst thing.

The smell.

It was blood and vomit and sweat and body odor mixed with the scent of the poorly mixed bleach the janitors mopped the floor with every night. Or at least, that they were supposed to mop the floor with every night. It tingled in the back of her nose and dragged sandpaper over the back of her throat. It was revolting and a reminder of what she had just escaped.

Speaking of which...how had she done that? Maybe she'd be able to figure it out if she opened her eyes. Taylor's eyes, however, did not want that to happen. They were heavy and stuck together, resisting her every attempt at opening them. For a moment. Her indomitable will had her eyes opening up sooner than she was expecting and she immediately regretted it. Everything was too bright. The overhead fluorescent had been replaced with pure, undiluted sunlight that did its best to sear her eyes out of her skull.

"Ow," she rasped though a dry throat. "Ow, ow, that's bright." The pain in her hypersensitive eyes made her aware of the fact that they...were the only part of her that actually hurt. In fact...she felt amazing. Like she could run forever and as fast as the wind.

"I'm told that happens to Guardians when they first wake up."

That voice! She recognized that voice! It was the same one she'd heard just before she lost consciousness. Her eyes snapped open and she whipped her head in the direction it had come from and...stopped. Completely. What she was seeing now was entirely beyond her experience. It was small, no bigger than her fists bunched together, and floating a couple of feet off the floor. The metal its body was made from was white, cracked, and warped. Like something had tried to tear it apart from every direction at once.

The seeming damage was offset by the intensity with which the small dot of light in its center shone. She lifted a hand to point a surprisingly steady finger at it. "Did – did you just...?"

"Talk?" the thing bobbed up and down in the air. "Yeah, that was me."

"What?" Her throat was dry. She swallowed. It didn't help. "What are you?"

"Well." It paused, as if taking the opportunity to relish what it was about to say. "I'm a Ghost. Actually, now I'm your Ghost."

For a brief, hysterical minute, Taylor thought she'd died and the afterlife was nothing like she'd been led to believe. Then she calmed down enough to realize that was a crazy thought. Wasn't it? "Am I dead?"

The Ghost chirped. "No. Not anymore, anyway."

Her breath caught. "Then I was?!"

"Yes. For less than two minutes, your heart stopped. Then I found you, Guardian. You're all right now. In fact, you're better than all right."

Taylor slid herself along the floor until she could rest against the locker across the room from her own. She took a moment to get a grasp on the fact she'd been dead – this didn't take as long as she'd expected it to. Something strange was going on – then turned her gaze to the Ghost. "I think you'd better start from the beginning, Ghost. What are you, what did you to do me, and what's going to happen next?"

The Ghost chirped in an agreeable way. "Of course, Guardian. It will take a while to explain. Are you comfortable enough to do it here?"

"Better here than a police station." Taylor was sure of that much. "Start with why you keep calling me that."

"It started, quite literally, a long time ago – or from now, depending on which of us you ask – on an Earth that was very much like this one. With some minor differences. One of those differences was called, by the people who found it, the Traveler..."

And so it was that less than ten feet from the place where she, at least temporarily, died, Taylor listened. And in listening, learned.

=+= Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life =+=

"So." Taylor had been sitting for some time now – anywhere between fifteen minutes to a quarter hour – and she was finally starting to feel it. The minor discomfort in her butt was offset by the influx of knowledge she'd just been party to. All the same, she stood and shook her legs out one at a time to get the blood flowing again. "Let me try and get it all straight. First thing first; you're from a different Earth."

The Ghost chirped again. "Yes."

"I get that." She flexed the toes of each foot, feeling them crack in a most satisfying manner. That was frankly the easiest part of what she'd been told. Alternate Earths had been an accepted thing for a while now. "Okay, second thing: you're from the future. Like, way into the future."

"That depends. What's the date?"

"2011." she was now bouncing on her toes, feeling oddly antsy. Cagey. "April 11th, I think."

"Then yes," the Ghost sounded both amused and concerned by her doubt of the exact day. "I'm from way into the future. At least 500 years."

Again, Taylor could stomach this with little difficulty. If there existed a cape who could snatch the souls right out of people and use them as weapons, why not time travel? "Right. Third thing. You didn't mean to come here and find me."

"Not that I regret it, but also true. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't believe you were worthy, Guardian."

"Which leads to the fourth thing." Taylor started to pace, slowly being overcome by the urge to move. To run and leap and climb and explore. "I'm a Guardian now. Which is like a parahuman, but not. I'm stronger, faster, my senses are all jacked up, and I can do stuff with light."

"Not light, Guardian. Light. Capital L. It's not a subtle distinction. With light you illuminate a dark space, but with Light you can push back true Darkness. Forge weapons from fire, lightning, or the void. It reinforces your body and mind. It sets you apart. Makes you capable of incredible things."

"What can I do?" Her hands curled and uncurled. "And why am I feeling so antsy all of a sudden?"

"To to the first I can only say that it is up to you decide how you wield your Light. Some Guardians choose to delve the mysteries of existence and become a Warlock. Others wrap their arms in fields of power and stand the City's walls as a Titan. Still others are drawn to the wild places and forgotten paths. They call themselves Hunters, and unless I miss my guess, you will be one of these."

A hunter, huh? When Taylor had been very small her dad had a friend who was very interested in going up to the wildlife park every deer season and pursuing a buck that had eluded him for decades, or so he claimed. She never learned how skilled he was at finding the deer, but she knew for a fact he was a fantastic storyteller. She'd spent hours listening to him describe the cool, dry morning air brushing against his face. How the dew from trees and grass soaked through his clothes and left him shivering.

He would describe, in an awed whisper, how quiet it was, out there alone. The way the sun rose over the tree canopies, as if just for him. She'd heard him describe isolated glens, burbling streams, and solitary waterfalls. It was clear to her now that more had stuck with her over the years than she'd thought. Now each image came to mind with strong, vivid clarity. She yearned to see these places, to find new places. She wanted to go and see and find and get out of this room because she'd died there and it smelled like puke and rot and blood.

"Okay." she came to a halt. "One last thing."

"I'm listening."

"What did you mean when you said you were dying?"

There was a metallic rasp that rang in the air, and it took Taylor a moment to realize the Ghost had just sighed. "I don't know what material I was made from. I've watched bullets of all calibers bounce off other Ghosts. I've seen the solar lances of the Vex splash harmlessly on our frames. I spent the centuries searching for my Guardian thinking Ghosts were indestructible. It turns out that is only mostly true. However I came to be here damaged me immensely, and making you a Guardian did more. As of now I estimate my lifespan to extend to the end of the week. Monday, if I don't have to resurrect you again."

"I..." Taylor didn't know how to react to that. The itch to move all but faded. She could still feel it, would always feel it, but now she was overcome by something new. Something like... "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." the Ghost's voice was firm, gentle, and as always, metallic. "Finding you was my purpose for existence, and I can't describe how it made me feel to finally meet you."

"So..." Her cheeks warmed, matching the feeling in her chest. Some combination of touched, flattered, and complimented. And a tiny niggle of doubt that, when she failed to silence it, was simply ignored. "What do we do now?"

"That, Guardian, is up to you. I suggest finding a change of clothes. I may not have a nose or sense of smell, but I'm pretty sure you stink."

"Hey!" Taylor pointed an indignant finger at the little being. "You try coming out of something as nasty as that," the finger shifted to the remains of her locker, sans door. Where had that gone, anyway? "and smell like roses."

"I come to an alternate dimension to find my Guardian, and she gives me backchat." the Ghost was now full of false mourning. "I truly lead a thankless existence."

That reminded her... "Hey, Ghost?"

"Guardian?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

There was no mistaking the warmth in the Ghost's voice. Even though he saved her life and gave her power beyond imagining, she got the feeling that he was the one who wanted to be thanking her. "Not a problem."

=+= Chapter 1: Taylor Hebert, This Is Your Life

I copied and pasted straight from Ao3