Reginald Edward Victor Orson Xavierson
When did I first discover my power? I dunno. Well, that's not exactly true. I was, let me think, five, five-and-a-half, give or take a couple weeks. I'd just finished diggin' up my dad's freshly planted lily bulbs, looking for pirate's gold. He was on his way in to whip me with his belt, like always. Mom had begged him time and again to "spare the rod" if not spoil the child. She'd even thretened to turn him in to Child Protective services if he didn't knock it off. Thing is, he of course never left marks, and never hit me that hard. I mean, it did hurt, and he never did it for anything that didn't deserve it. Still, I heard him ranting and mom pleading. I really did not want that whipping. Especially since I had found a Timex that still worked once I'd wound it up. I was planning on giving it to him as a peace offering as he'd just lost his old favorite watch two days before and had bitched endlessly about not being able to afford a new one. The more mom begged though, the more determined he seemed. So, I did what any five year old would do; I hid in the closet.
Think about it. What's the scariest place to any kid under ten? The closet. Monsters live in there. Everyone knew that. Granted they only came out at night, after dad had checked of course. Closet monsters are not stupid.
Anyway, I'm in there, hiding behind the hamper, wishing fervently for a world where angry daddy didn't want to hit me. I felt a vague shift, like the shift you feel when woken up from dream state to fully awakened, only I was never asleep. Thing is, I thought maybe at the time I had fallen asleep and woken up later after dad hadn't been able to find me. Rather confusing, actually. Even at five and a half, I knew I wasn't that good at Hide-&-Seek. Something else felt a little, off. I could not then, nor can I now even after years of doing this, quite put my finger on what it was that was off. Fortunately I have learned to use that 'off'-ness as a kind of compass.
Well, I crawled out of the closet and went to see if dad was out fixing the garden, hoping I could give him the watch and maybe offer to help out now that he'd apparently cooled off. I heard mom cooking in the kitchen. Smelled like oniony chicken. Dad hates onions. My thought then was, Oh no, they're gonna have another fight tonight! But then I noticed that all the furniture was wrong...
I stood and stared. It was not just that the couch was in the wrong spot, it was that it was the wrong couch and love seat and matching easy chairs, the wrong coffee table, the wrong T.V. On an open-front china hutch was a little alter to an arrangement of Catholic figureheads on the lower shelf, and on the upper was a memorial to my dad. It had his birthday, and apparently his deathday. My third birthday by the look of it. (My Kindergarten teacher was very progressive and taught us all 1st Grade Math.) I did remember having to take dad to the emergency room for a heart attack that day. He'd survived though.
Fortunately, to a five-year-old, things like magick and wishes are still logical conclusions. I also had the miraculously mature notion that a boy needs his daddy, anger management issues and all. I ran over to the hutch and prayed as hard as I could to God and Jesus and Joseph and Mary and Michael and Gabriel that I had not used up all my wishes and ran back to my room and into my closet. I hid behind the hamper again an wished as hard as I could that the world was back the way it was before I wished daddy away. Sure enough, I felt that shifting feeling again...
And the next thing I knew dad was pulling the hamper away yelling, "You ain't hidin' from me this time ya little shit!"
I lunged forward and hugged his left leg, crying and apologizing and telling him how glad I was that I hadn't used up all my wishes and got him back. He was thus too stunned to whip me that day. I was really careful to not make any more wishes after that. Two and a half years later however, dad had another heart attack, and didn't make it. About a week after the funeral, I found myself sitting on the sofa watching the Game, missing him so bad, I made a wish. I felt the shift. There he was, a slight tremor in his hands as he sipped a beer, a bottle of meds on the side table. Our team scored. Dad gave a whoop. Mom cautioned him from the kitchen to be careful of his heart. He bitched back at her to shut it, but he smiled because he knew she loved him.
Things were alright for a few weeks, but I could not shake that feeling of everything being off somehow. I've talked with Ford Prefect about that. He gave me this rambling lecture about leaves in the Amazon. In any case, late that night, reluctantly, I tried "wishing hard" for things to go back to normal. There was that Shifting Feeling, and the Off Feeling went away. That morning, a puffy eyed mom made breakfast for just me, and then drove me to the school-bus-stop with a black band on her arm.
Two weeks after that, mom found out she was pregnant. She could not stop crying, so they took her to the hospital so they could observe her with out having to give her any lithium or anything else which might hurt the baby. I went to live with Gran'ma.
My first night with her, she read me the first couple of chapters of "The Borrowers". I thought it was the greatest. The next night, after the next two chapters, I wished, felt the shift and the Off Feeling, and about five minutes later saw an Honest-To-God Borrower sneak across the kitsch shelf up near the ceiling. I couldn't help myself. I started giggling.
He gave a little "Eep!" and nearly fell off. I 'Wished' again and I was alone in my ordinary room.
Well, eventually mom pushed out my sister who came to live with Gran'ma and me. Mom got put on antidepresants, and eventually came to live with us too. We sold dad's house, and Gran'ma passed away six years later, leaving her house to us. I don't know if my sis has any powers like mine, yet. If she does, she hasn't shown me, but then I've never shown her mine. So, I guess that's fair.
I finished high school, and then went to the local community college to get an AA in 'English Lit.' I found out I loved reading, and Gran'ma had an extensive collection of classic Fantasy, a little Sci-Fi too.
I found out my power had limits as well. I've long since stopped thinking of it as 'Wishes'. That's just how I saw it as a kid. I've found though, that I cannot go laterally. I mean, I can't shift directly from say schmoozing with Kirk and Spock to go visit Obi-wan. I need to come home first and reorient. I dunno. I feel like if I strained myself, I could go laterally like that, but then I'd be strained and possibly sprained, and hopelessly lost. Also, I need at least an hour's rest time between shifts. Well, that's not completely true. In an emergency, I can shift earlier than an hour, but doing so more than say thrice within that hour puts a pretty big drain on my power levels, and I don't just mean my Power. My general energy goes way down. Food and caffeine help, but nothing fixes that kind of fatigue like simply resting. Another thing is, physically moving around does effect where I come out, when coming home or Shifting out. This has certainly led to some hairy situations. I don't know what's on the other side of a Shift. I do not have any sort of way for Looking Ahead, as it where. I can plan ahead, if I've the time, and 'Wish' for a place that will be safe to arrive in, but that safety is not guaranteed for more than say five minutes. If I do not specify a time-frame with my place, I end up just anywhere. I remember one time shifting aboard Vader's ship, the 'Executor', just as that A-Wing pilot Kamikazed the bridge.
You know, sometimes I think the Universe just loves fu- er, messing with me.
Thing is, Ever since I've started using this Power of mine, weird stuff has started finding me. I came home to my mom and sis at Gran'ma's house, and that night the TARDIS showed up on the back lawn. Third Doc if you're interested, with Rose Tyler. I know, weird right? Turns out they needed me to take them to a 'Galaxy Quest Convention', NOT 'Star Trek'. If you've never heard about what happened there, then I'll just assume you're not from my Universe/Time-Line. Spider and Michael call them 'Fictions'. I like that, less of a mouthful.
Anyroad, that's more or less how it all started for me. Go ahead, ask me where I've been.
What? Oh, sorry. I'm Reggy.
No, seriously, ask him.
Reggy is my O.C. Conduit for cross-overs. I have some ideas for where he's been, when he's been there and who he's met while there. Kinda like Dr. Who, he some times brings a companion, but he always brings them home. Er, home to their native Fiction I mean.