She didn't carry so much as a grocery bag; there was nothing on her
except those ratty, ill-fitting clothes. Lou found it even stranger that
she was walking alongside the road without paying much attention to the
traffic; not standing by the curb with her thumb outstretched; just walking.
"What in the blazes is this poor girl doing out here?" he thought.
Once he'd driven ahead of the girl, Lou pulled his truck onto the shoulder
and stopped. He got out of the cab and walked toward the girl.
"Do you need a ride somewhere, Miss?" he asked.
"Yes, actually, I do," she said, in a clear Irish accent.
"To where?"
"I'm heading up to Snow Valley, Massachusetts."
"Well, I don't know just where that is, but I'm making a stop in Boston. Can I drop you off there?"
She cocked her head at him for a moment. "You know, it's not safe to pick up hitchhikers. Never know who you could be letting into your truck," she said after a pause.
Lou fought back the urge to roll his eyes and lecture this odd young woman on how to respond to a polite offer. "Young lady, how do you think you look right now?"
She looked down at herself and said, "I think I look like a vagabond, and they can be pretty dangerous."
"Well, I think you look helpless. Besides, don't you know it's not safe for a tiny thing like you to be walking along out here by herself, looking for a ride from a stranger? You never know who could drive up."
"I know how to defend myself if necessary," she said, with narrowed eyes.
"And so do I," he responded. "Now, would you like to ride up to Boston with me?" he asked, motioning towards his truck with a tanned, silver-haired arm.
"I would like that very much," she said, and walked up to the cab of Lou's truck.
"What's your name, Miss?" Lou asked, as he helped her into the cab.
"Theresa," she answered.
"Pleased to meet you, Theresa. My name's Lou."
"About where are we, Lou?" Theresa asked once they were back on the
road.
"We're on I-95," Lou replied.
"No, I mean in what part of the States are we in?"
"…we're around in central Virginia right now. What, you didn't know
that?"
"No, but I do now."
"And you didn't make those dreadlocks on purpose, did you?" Lou asked.
"Oh my God," she said, taking a lock of horribly matted hair in her
hand and inspecting it. "I have dreads now? That'll teach me to go days
without so much as a mirror."
"So, you don't know where you are, you haven't combed your hair in a
few days, and you must have left a panhandler naked to get those clothes.
Have you eaten?"
"Not much," Theresa shrugged.
"We'll stop for lunch soon, then."
"I don't have any money," she said.
"I kinda figured that out myself," said Lou with a raised eyebrow. "Don't
worry, I'll treat you to lunch."
"Thank you," said Theresa. "But, in all honesty, I'm not all that hungry."
"I don't believe that for a minute. Look, Theresa, as long as you're
riding with me, I'll give you something to eat and a place to sleep. It's
no trouble at all."
"Thank you, then," she said quietly, folding her hands into her lap.
"So, what's in Snow Valley, Massachusetts?" Lou asked after a lull.
"My father runs a school there. I'm going up to stay with him."
"Okay. Going to see your Dad, that's good. Does he know you're coming?"
"No. If I called him, he'd want to know where I'd been and what I'd
been doing, and if I tried to tell him, he'd have a fit. I don't want him
to have a fit until after I arrive," said Theresa with a smirk.
"Now, let's see," Lou began, counting off on his fingers. "You've been
on your own for a few days, you've got nothing but the nasty old clothes
on your back, haven't even been able to comb your hair, haven't eaten much,
but I'm willing to bet you actually haven't eaten anything. Looks
like you've been through something ugly."
"I have," she nodded gravely.
"Well, I know it's none of my business, so I won't ask," Lou assured
her. "Just as long as none of it ends up in my truck, okay?"
"I can assure you, it won't." She went silent and looked at her hands.
"I'm not entirely sure what happened, myself. But it's over now, that much
is for sure.
"And I'm not a 'tiny thing'," she huffed. "I'm at least average height
for a woman, and I'm not starving to death just yet."
"Okay, you're right," he conceded. "Those big clothes make you look
like a runt, is all."
"It's okay. I appreciate the concern."
Lou also noticed that Theresa didn't smell like several days' worth
of sweat and grime. There was a faint, slightly earthy aroma around her
that wasn't offensive, but eerie. Lou wondered what that was, but also
worried that the answer might have been something he wouldn't have liked.
"Have you ever seen the movie, Slums of Beverly Hills?" Theresa asked.
"No, why?" Lou replied.
"There's a scene early in the movie where Marisa Tomei is running away
from drug rehab, and she's running down the road one night looking for
a ride, but no one is stopping for her. So, she gets in front of a truck,
opens up her robe to expose herself to the driver, and the truck stops
dead in front of her. The driver opens up the door and welcomes her in."
"That sounds…interesting," Lou grimaced.
"But the reason I brought that up is because I'm thankful that I didn't
have to do that," she finished, looking over to him.
"Theresa, if I saw you doing that, I'd stop my truck and pull you in
faster than you can blink before you did anything stupid and hurt yourself."
She chuckled to herself, and Lou started to laugh, too. "There was once
a day when I woulda gone for that, but now I have two daughters about your
age, so if I found you standing on the highway showing off your hoo-hoo's,
I'd think of how your daddy'd feel if he saw you doing that, and how I'd
feel if it were one of my girls."
"I just turned twenty-four," said Theresa.
"Yeah, they're right around your age. Anne's twenty-three, and Sue's
almost twenty-five. I've been married to their mother, Jane, for twenty-seven
years now."
"Wow. Congratulations," Theresa nodded.
"Thanks. Have you got someone special to you?" he asked.
"Well, I have some friends in San Francisco, and they're special to
me. If you mean do I have a boyfriend, I don't. Why, do you have a nephew
looking to be fixed up?" she smirked.
"No," he laughed. "I was just making conversation."
"My friends are my special someones," she answered.
"That's real nice." Lou turned the truck onto an exit ramp, which was
followed immediately by a small strip mall. "This is where we're gonna
have lunch," he said, nodding towards a diner in the strip mall.
"Now, wait a minute," Lou said to Theresa as started towards the diner
after stepping out of the cab. "Before you go in there, I want you to get
some new clothes," he said, taking some money out of his wallet and handing
it to her.
"Lou, I don't want to take your money; it's enough that you're paying
for my food," she said, handing the two 20's back to him.
"Theresa, you go in there and get yourself some decent clothes," he
gestured towards the Ross store a few doors down from the diner. "I don't
want these people thinking I'm traveling with some kind of bum."
"But you are traveling with a bum!" Theresa protested.
"Bull-hockey. If you were really a bum, you wouldn't have any trouble
taking my money. Now, you go in there and get yourself some clothes that
fit right. I'll be waiting right here, then we'll go to lunch."
Theresa crossed her arms and looked down for a moment. "Well, okay.
If you insist," she finally said, and started towards the store.
"Also," Lou called after her. She turned around to look at him again.
"If you get something to tie your hair back, people might think those dreads
are cultural, rather than just you without a comb."
"Okay," she said.
Lou was pleased when Theresa walked out of the Ross about fifteen minutes
later in a soft, peach-colored knit peasant blouse and blue jeans, with
the top half of her hair gathered into a low ponytail. She dropped a shopping
bag full of something soft, presumably her old dirty clothes, into a trash
can next to the store. "Now, do you have any idea how becoming you look
right now?" he asked her, smiling, as she walked back to him.
"Thanks, Lou," she said. "Here's your change." She handed him what remained
of the forty dollars he'd given her. "Now, can we get lunch?"
Many hours later, well after the sky had gone dark and Theresa started
to feel sleepy, she spoke up.
"Lou, there's just one thing I wanna know," she said.
"Shoot."
"Why have you been so nice to me? Why do you bother? I mean, you've
already gotten me two meals and some new clothes, and you trusted me enough
to pick me up in the first place. Why do you give up so much money on me
and put your safety on the line? I think we both know I won't be able to
pay you back, and you're not getting lucky with me. So what's in it for
you?"
"I like having someone to sit beside me while I drive, Theresa," he
explained. "This is lonely work, driving for hours on end, all alone with
your thoughts. The company gave me a good truck, but that was about it.
It's nice to have some company, and you're a sweet girl." He smiled and
patted her knee.
"So, is my company really worth it?" she asked.
"Theresa, you've hardly cost me a thing."
"Where are we now?" she asked after a pause.
"Up in northeastern Pennsylvania, about to cross into New Jersey. The
states'll get really tiny from here on up. Now, why don't you get some
rest? I don't wanna drop you off half-asleep tomorrow afternoon," he suggested.
"Sure, I'd like to get some sleep, but what about you?"
"I'll park this thing somewhere pretty soon and take a nap myself, don't
you worry."
The following afternoon, Lou arrived with Theresa at the warehouse of
a gardening supplier in Boston.
"This is it, Theresa," he said, applying the truck's parking brake.
"Unless you wanna put off the visit to your dad, and hang out with me until
I come back through here after a stop in Buffalo."
"No, I'd better be on my way," she breathed while taking off her seat
belt.
"Just how far away is Snow Valley? You sure you can make it there by
yourself?"
"I'm not exactly sure how far, but I know how to find it. Don't worry,
I'll be fine," she answered, with a sad smile on her face.
"Okay, now you take care. I just wanna know you'll make it from here
to your dad in one piece," said Lou.
"I will." She scooted from her seat to his, and hugged him. "Thanks
for the ride."
"Thanks for the company."
While unloading the gardening supplies from his trailer, Lou swore he
saw a flash of dark blue and peach and flaming coppery red fly through
the air above him.
**Chapter 2**
Theresa Cassidy spotted the Massachusetts Academy, of which her father,
Sean Cassidy, was the headmaster, a half mile away. Remembering that the
students scattered liberally throughout the grounds were normal humans
and unaware that their school was run and inhabited by mutants, Theresa
dropped out of the air and walked the remaining distance to the school.
As Sean Cassidy walked back to his office from a meeting with teachers,
one of his students caught up with him.
"Yes, Peter, what is it?"
"There was a woman outside asking where she could find you, so I took
her to your office. She says she's your daughter," said the student.
"She said she's my daughter?" Sean's eyes widened.
"Yes, Mr. Cassidy, that's what she said."
"Thank you, I'll go see her right now," said Sean, rushing past his
young student before he finished the sentence.
He walked especially fast the rest of the distance to his office. Peter's
notice alarmed him not because he didn't get along with his daughter (he
did), but because of how she got there. The last place Theresa had lived
that Sean knew about was in California, so she would have had to travel
a long way, especially considering that she hadn't given him any notice
beforehand. The thing that really sent Sean practically booking back to
his office to see who was really there was that Peter had told him this
woman had "said" she was his daughter. The last time Sean had visited his
daughter, or more accurately, the last time he'd tried to visit her, she
had been injured so badly she couldn't speak. Just how was she "saying"
anything?
Sitting on the bench next to his office door was a young woman who looked
exactly like his daughter, except he'd always known Theresa to keep her
hair combed. Part of him wanted to hug the living daylights out of her,
but the other part was afraid of what she'd turn into if he did.
"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked, putting on his best poker face.
"Da, it's me, it's Theresa," she said while standing up, tentatively
reaching out to hug him.
"Prove it," he said, though her voice was unmistakably his daughter's.
"Okay," she nodded, placing her hands on her hips. "Do you have any
chocolate milk at your cottage?"
That was something no shapeshifter could have known; it was really her.
He let out a quick, soft laugh, and held out his arms to her. She jogged
up and hugged him, leaning her matted head on his shoulder. "Da, I'm sorry
I wasn't there to see you when you came to visit me last time," she murmured.
"Don't worry about that, darlin'. All I want to know is, how did you
get your voice back so soon?"
"It's a long story.
"…and the next thing I know, I wake up in this big glass vat of…something,
wearing only this," she pulled down the neckline of her top to reveal a
black band of spandex around her chest. "and some panties and leg bands
to match. The vat's been turned over and is cracking open, so I climb out
and see Wade, I see Deadpool, standing in front of me, and I'm so surprised
I just open my mouth and say 'Wade?', and my old voice actually came out!
So I fly up out of the broken glass vat and did a sonic scream, just for
the heck of it, and it felt so good!"
They both laughed triumphantly. They were in Sean's office, with her
in his chair behind his desk and him in the smaller chair against the wall,
as if she were the headmistress and he were a belligerent student or angry
parent, munching on brownies a teacher had baked, while Theresa told her
story. She had inherited her mutant powers from him, and he had also experienced
the trauma of losing his powers in battle before. In his case, though,
he could at least still speak, whereas Theresa had been rendered silent
by her old teammate, Feral's, attack on her.
"So we're in this big stone room, and your friend Logan's there, and
there are these two weird-looking people and a giant robot also there,
saying 'All appearances indicate that her injuries have been healed.',"
she imitated the robot's electronic voice. "So I ask Deadpool if he was
the one who made this happen, if he was the one I had to thank for having
my voice back, and it turned out he was." She took a bite of her brownie.
"Only, Logan was also a part of it," she said softly. "It turns out Wade
had nabbed Logan and sent him to this shady bunch called the Watchtower,
and they used his healing factor to fix my vocal cords. That's how I got
my voice back so soon."
"So these people, the Watchtower, must have been experimenting on Logan
in some way?" said Sean.
"He said they were taking his blood. I don't know just what he went
through, and he was fine by the time I woke up, but still. He didn't like
what had happened to him, and neither did I."
"I don't blame you, Theresa. Logan's been through far worse, I'm sure,
but that doesn't mean he'd want to go through it again," Sean agreed. "So,
then, what happened after you found all this out?"
"After they told me what Wade had done to get me healed, I flew with
him out of the compound and into the nearest town, and it was the middle
of the night, so nothing was going on. Wade broke into a thrift store and
got some clothes for me, and they were ugly as sin, but they covered me
up, so I wouldn't have to go flying around half-naked. And he offered to
take me home, to get me either back to X-Force, or back to Aunt Tori's,
or back to his place, I wasn't quite sure which, but he had planned to
get me to some place I could call home after I was healed, I know
that much. Only, I decided I'd better part ways with him there."
"Why?" Sean asked. "Did you know anyone where you were?"
"No, in fact I didn't even know where I was. The problem was, as much
as I was thrilled to have my voice and powers back again, I could help
but feel terrible about what Logan had to go through, and when I thought
about it some more, I had to wonder; how did Wade get me in there?
I mean, I didn't know where I was or what I was doing when he found me,
or how he found me, or just how he got me to that Watchtower place after
he found me. In fact, I still don't know now. You know, I had all these
questions to ask him, but I didn't want to know the answers. I just
wanted the whole episode to be over, so after I was dressed, and we stole
a snack out of a little produce market, I told Wade I was very appreciative
of what he'd done for me, and I'd be getting in touch with him soon, but
that I'd get myself home and he could go his own way and not worry about
me. And at first, he was caught a little off-guard, wanted to know if I
was sure about this, and I told him yes, I'd be fine, and since I had my
powers back, I could take care of myself. Now, he believed me on this,
so we bid each other good-bye, and he went off in his direction, and I
went mine."
"But, what way was that, if you didn't even know where you were at the
time?"
"Now that's a good question. It was very warm and green where we were,
so I figured it must have been in the southeast, so I thought, of all the
places I could go, this place and the Xavier Institute were the closest.
So I started flying north to see what I could find, and what I found was
that I could only fly so far before my lungs got very tired," she explained
quickly.
Sean laughed again. "Started wishing you'd gone with Deadpool instead,
then? Not that I'd want you to be following that merc around, but
this is a big country, isn't it?"
"It is," she concurred. "Now, when I decided I couldn't fly any farther
without having my vocal cords fall out again, I landed next to a highway
in what I later found out was the middle of Virginia. And I walked alongside
it for some time, not looking for a ride, just wanting to see where it
led, and a very nice man pulled his truck over in front of me and offered
me a ride to Boston. I told him it wasn't safe, what he was doing, picking
up a stranger by the side of the road, but he told me the same thing, and
said he wasn't worried, and since I knew that if anyone had to worry about
the other being dangerous, it was him, so I accepted the ride."
"That is, unless that man was also a mutant, and wasn't just looking
to do a good deed," Sean put in.
"Yes, I know, but I thought, I can defend myself, and it's a much better
deal than walking and flying god-knows-how-far up to this place myself,
so I got in his truck, and it was a lovely ride up."
"That's good to hear. What is this truck driver's name?" asked Sean.
"His name is Lou, and he sounded quite Southern. He has two daughters
about my age, he said, and he picked me up because he wanted some company
while he drove, which I thought was very touching."
"Yes, I can see that. I'm sure it could get very lonely driving from
Virginia or further south, up to Boston," said Sean, touching his chin
thoughtfully.
"Actually, he's going as far as Buffalo, and then all the way back again.
But, anyway, he dropped me off at his stop in Boston this afternoon, and
then I flew the rest of the way here," she concluded.
"Wait," Sean looked worried. "I hope you didn't let the students see
you flying, because they're not supposed to know—"
"Yes, I remembered that, Da. As soon as I could see the school, I landed
and walked the rest of the way. I don't believe any of the students saw
me until I showed up at the gates," she assured him. "Why, what would they
do if they knew I was a mutant, pull out their power-dampening guns and
shoot me down?" she spun around in Sean's chair with a mad twinkle in her
eye.
"No, I think they'd be too intimidated to actually try anything, but
remember that their world doesn't end at the school gates," Sean warned,
turning his deadly serious gaze on her until she stopped turning his chair
around. "Once word got out to the parents, and it would get out, then the
school would come under investigation, and you can just imagine what would
happen then…"
"Oh, Da, isn't that what you have Emma for? You're describing the kind
of situation she lives for! She'd be inside the kids' minds before they
could say 'Dear Mum and Dad,' and even if some of them did tell
their parents—" Theresa began, but stopped abruptly when the door opened.
"You know, Sean, I never thought I'd hear your daughter, of all people,
singing my praises," said Emma Frost as she entered her co-headmaster's
office. "I see you've recovered from your injuries, Theresa."
"I wasn't singing your praises, Emma, I was just telling the truth,
though I guess there's a time and place to be proud of the way you use
your powers. I mean, isn't that how you knew I was here?" replied Theresa.
"Well, your psychic shielding is so nonexistent, you may as well be
yelling down the hall, so it didn't take much effort on my part. Though,
it is good to see you've come to visit your father in such high spirits,
and not the Jack Daniels kind," Emma quipped.
"Emma, please," Sean began.
"No, really, Da, it's okay," said Theresa. "It'd be a shame for me to
spend my teen years in a drunken stupor and not even have a few good jokes
to show for it. Besides, from what I hear this is just her way of saying
'hello', right, Emma?"
"Yes, of course, Theresa. Also, don't let any of the kids see you in
your father's chair, it might give them ideas."
"Now, really," Theresa snickered. "Are your students so precious they
can't think of anything worse than sneaking into their headmaster's office
and joy-riding in his chair?"
"I didn't say what kind of ideas they'd get," said Emma, and she slid
out of the room and shut the door behind her.
"Jack Daniels," Theresa snickered after Emma left.
"You really find that funny?" asked Sean.
"Absolutely! Who knew the crazy bitch had such a sharp sense of humor!"
"Well, either way, that part of your life is none of her business."
"'That part of my life'?" Theresa mocked. "Just say it, Da. I was a
drunk for nine years. I'm now a recovering alcoholic. There's no need to
keep it a secret, and let's face it, that joke was just waiting to happen."
"Okay. I suppose if you're not offended, I shouldn't be, either," Sean
conceded softly. "Now, how long do you intend to stay here?"
"A few days, maybe a week if you'll have me that long," Theresa shrugged.
"Of course I'll have you that long. With how long it's been since I
last saw you, and everything that's gone on, a week isn't a long time to
stay."
"I know, but I can't stay any longer than that. I don't know how I left
Aunt Tori, and I've no idea what she's made of my being away, so I need
to get back to her and make sure things are okay, fix them if they're not."
"Yes, you do need to get back to her."
"Besides, you know, all my stuff is back there, so I need to go get
it…"
"Theresa," Sean laughed. "Would you like to stay in my guest room while
you're here?"
"I would love that."
"Now, darling, I want that shirt off. Would you?" said a silky, knowing,
yet slightly plaintive voice. Her face and torso were hidden in shadow,
so that he could only see her creamy thighs straddling his supine form.
Sean complied, and cast his t-shirt to the side of his bed. "Is that
better?"
"Yes, I like that," said his lover. She leaned forward to slowly run
her hands up and down his chest. "I wanted you from the moment I saw you,
and now you're mine," she whispered. "Say you want me."
"I want you," he breathed.
"Say it again," she demanded.
"I want you," he began. Then, he felt himself dragged into a deep haze,
one that he did not care to resist. The slender hands on his chest faded
away, the sleek lines of her thighs disappeared, and the weight on his
stomach spread into a warm, heavy blanket over his whole body.
He turned his head to the side and slowly opened his eyes, to find that
his digital clock read 3:26. Oh, now why did that dream have to end? It
was a good one!, he thought. Until he realized that the hands were still
on his chest, the shadow-concealed body still seated herself just above
his hipbones, and her thighs still held him firmly in place. Sean turned
his head to look straight forward, with eyes wide open, and beheld a curly-topped,
voluptuous silhouette on top of him, gently backlit by the moonlight and
lamplight coming through his bedroom windows.
Keeping his eyes fixed on his "lover," Sean reached for the switch to
the lamp on his nightstand, almost knocking the lamp over in the process.
His shaking hand fumbled around the neck of the lamp, just below the lightbulb,
and finally found the switch. When he turned it on, the light revealed
a barely-clad Theresa straddling him, leaning forward to touch his chest.
In one swift motion, Sean grabbed his daughter by the upper arms and
swung her off his bed, and dropped her on the floor next to him. She made
a slight squeaking sound as he threw her off, but the real reaction was
after she landed. She was wearing a flimsy underwire bra and thong panties
that she had probably stolen from one of his female students, who wanted
to look like a grown woman but had to dress her own undersized teenage
body. The result was that the thong's side straps cut into Theresa's hips,
and her breasts bulged out of the cups and fought against its lacy material.
She lay there in a petulant heap, propped up on her elbows as she scowled
up at Sean.
"Theresa, what. Are. You DOING?!"
"You seemed to be enjoying it until a minute ago," she said, in the
voice from his dream.
Sean flipped horizontally over in bed, trying to conceal his stubborn
erection from Theresa, and grabbed the telephone.
Emma Frost woke with a start to the sound of her phone ringing. She
tore the receiver off its console and, thinking the caller was a wrong
number or one of her idiot drunken students having too much fun, snarled
into it, "Do you have any idea what time it is?!"
"Emma, I know what time it is. Theresa just tried to seduce me," said
Sean Cassidy's voice on the other end of the line.
"I'll be right over," she flatly said.
Sean hung up the phone and looked back at Theresa. She was now propped
up on her hands, sitting more upright, and looking very confused.
"Da, what am I doing in here?" she said in her own voice.
"You tell me!"
"Really, I don't remember coming in here. What's going on, was I sleepwalking?"
"It looked more like you were developing multiple personalities. Emma'll
be in here soon to deal with whatever's going on inside your head," said
Sean.
Theresa stood up and walked over to Sean's closet. She took his bathrobe
off the hook on the closet door and put it on, followed by a pair of his
slippers. "I have her, Sean," she said, again not sounding like herself.
"Wha?" he muttered incredulously, then it hit him. "Good work, Emma."
He looked out his bedroom window until he saw Theresa walking towards Emma's
cottage, then he tottered robotically into the bathroom. In there, he turned
on the cold water in the shower at full blast, and walked under it, still
in his pajamas.
Theresa found herself in the middle of shutting Emma's front door. She
looked down to see her father's bathrobe over the too-tight underwear,
which she also couldn't explain. In front of her was Emma sitting cross-legged
on the couch, wearing a satiny white negligee and matching robe, next to
a lit table lamp.
"You entered my mind and dragged me over here, didn't you?" said Theresa
with a hand on her hip.
"Yes. I thought it unnecessary to have both of us walking around outside
at this hour, especially in our state of dress. Come sit down," said Emma,
pointing to the seat beside her.
Theresa stepped slowly towards the couch. "This is about me doing whatever
made my Da so mad in his room, isn't it?" she asked as she went.
"It is. Now, just before I took control of your mind, I checked into
your father's short-term memory for details, and there's something I'd
like to let you know," Emma began. "While you may have had a good reason
to want to wake up your father in the wee hours of the morning, straddling
him and rubbing his chest while nearly naked is generally considered inappropriate
behavior."
"Is that what I was doing?" said Theresa with wide eyes.
"Apparently so," Emma answered. "With behavior like that, you're either
consuming some very illegal substances, or you have even more 'issues'
than I thought, or I'm not the only one who's been in your mind tonight."
"Well, you were just inside my head a few minutes ago, so why don't
you tell me?" Theresa challenged.
"I suppose I could have looked into that, but it requires time and concentration
that I'd rather not expend unless you're in here, with me," Emma explained.
"Now, let me see this." She opened up the bathrobe Theresa was wearing.
"And for this occasion, you decided to wear something that might even make
me feel exposed, and it's at least three inches and two cup sizes too small.
Stolen from one of my more petite students, I wager. I wonder how you even
closed up that bra."
"Oh God, now I remember," said Theresa.
"So, you were conscious when you did this?"
"No, I don't think I was. I remember watching someone else doing that
to my Da, and I thought it was just a sick dream," she recalled. "Then
I remember him throwing her off of him, and she was annoyed about it. Then
I woke up, and I was sitting on the floor in Da's room, wondering what
in God's name was going on, and he was angry at me."
"You felt dissociated, then? Like you were watching it happen from the
side, instead of being in the middle of it?"
"Yes! That's exactly how I remember it. But, Da said I was the one doing
it?"
Emma nodded.
"Good lord, I don't know what came over me, Emma. I mustn't have been
myself, because I'd never pull a stunt like that, honestly."
"I believe you," said Emma. "Really. I think you were under some form
of mind control, but not like my telepathy. Something more indirect, but
still effective."
"And I suppose you'll be wanting to enter my mind again to get rid of
it?" asked Theresa.
"Unless you want to stay under mind control, I'm afraid so. Why,
do you?"
"No!" Theresa ejected. "Do whatever it takes, if it means I won't mount
my father again. I don't want that."
"That's what I thought. I'll have to warn you, I may have to go through
your more recent memories, and gain access to some very private information,"
Emma warned. "So, if that happens, don't be too surprised."
"Emma, I don't think anything in my head is anywhere near as embarrassing
as what I just did," said Theresa as she closed up her robe. "You can read
my mental diary, if that's what works."
"Okay. I need you to sit back, close your eyes, and relax. Don't worry
about feeling tired or sleepy, that won't hurt anything. Just calm down,"
Emma instructed. "I can't say how long this will take, but I can promise
that I won't hurt you."
Once she reached the astral plane, the first place Emma went in Theresa's
mind was her state of consciousness. It appeared as a small room, with
all the furniture pushed towards the center, and Theresa standing in a
corner while vigorously scrubbing a spot of the wall. "I see, you feel
dirty and you want to clean up your act," Emma said out loud. Theresa did
not respond, which did not surprise Emma. The walls were a pale beige-gray
color, softly textured and matte, looking like typical drywall. Emma noticed
a greasy trace several feet away from Theresa's head. She ran her hand
over it to make it glow and stand out, and what appeared was a handprint.
"Theresa, I need to borrow your hand for a second." Emma took the her subject's
hand and pressed it against the wall next to the first print. She let go,
and Theresa went back to detailing the drywall. The first thing Emma noticed
was that the new handprint was much brighter than the first one. "This
was left here days ago," Emma muttered. She also noticed that the older
print was left by a different hand. The palm was too broad, the fingers
too knobby. Emma took a broom resting in the corner and ran it across the
floor next to the wall adjacent to Theresa. When she turned it over, she
found several long white and gray hairs winding through the broom fibers.
Pulling the hairs out of the broom and winding them around her finger,
she said to Theresa. "Next stop, Memory Lane."
Emma found Theresa standing on a gravel road with a waist-high stone
wall on one side and a full-length wall of mirrors on the other. She touched
Theresa's hand and found she was solid and warm, though catatonic. "What's
wrong with me…make it stop…" echoed through the air in Theresa's voice,
very clearly. Another voice echoed something else, so quietly that Emma
could not understand. In the mirrors were Theresa's most recent memories.
First was her conversation with Emma, from Theresa's perspective. Then
there was a square of blank mirror, and the incident with Sean, but from
an outside point of view. All the images after that were back to appearing
through Theresa's eyes. Emma floated past the truck ride with Lou, the
saying goodbye to Deadpool, waking up in the chemical bath, then the mirror
showed only Emma with the stone wall behind her. About a dozen squares
showed no memories from Theresa, and in the middle of the blank squares
stood a thin, gray-haired old woman in a long purple dress. Emma held up
the hairs she'd pulled out of the broom and found they blended with this
woman's tied-back hair. Emma tried to touch the old woman's face, only
to find that she was without solid matter. Just after the apparition in
the mirror were several more blank spaces, then a blurry version of Deadpool's
face, then the ground, and then an ordinary outdoor scene. Here, she heard
the other voice echoing much more clearly. "No, please don't let this happen,"
it said. "I never thought I'd congratulate Deadpool on a job well done,"
said Emma. "But right now, I must." After several days' length of the same-old
traveling about, the mirror showed a heavy-set blonde woman entering a
partly ransacked house and looking very shocked, then a few squares of
a bottle of liquor interspersed with knocking things over in the house.
After that came the road leading up to the house, from inside a car, then
the inside of an antiques shop, and then Theresa's form appeared on the
road. Behind her was the same antiques shop scene, this time with the purple-dressed
woman holding up a big, gaudy necklace and pushing it towards Theresa.
"How very rude of you," said Emma. "Taking up residence in this girl's
head through your ugly jewelry, and not even cleaning up after yourself
when you leave. So now she has to deal with your leftovers."
Sean Cassidy stumbled out of the shower in his soaking-wet pajamas to
hear Emma Frost's telepathic voice in his head.
"Sean, put on some dry clothes and get over here. I've found what's
wrong with Theresa, and we've agreed to deal with it in the morning."
"Will she be okay? It's not serious, is it?" Sean asked.
"No, it's not serious, but I think you should know what's going on.
Now move."
Sean did as he was told, and arrived at Emma's residence to find her
alone in the living room.
"Um, where's Terry?" he asked upon noticing his daughter's absence.
"She's going to bed," Emma answered. "She's spending the rest of the
night here, because we wouldn't want to repeat the incident in your bedroom,
would we?" she gave a quick smirk.
"Is it really so bad that she can't stop herself from doing it again?"
Sean asked after sitting down next to Emma.
"It's really not as bad as it looks. It'll take a few simple mental
exercises to fix the problem, and since it's late, and we're tired, Theresa
and I have decided to get some sleep before trying the mental exercises.
In the meantime, I don't think it's wise to let her fall asleep around
you."
"Okay. So, just what's going on?"
"Theresa has been possessed," Emma began.
"What?! That's what you call not serious?!" Sean started.
"But she is not possessed now, in fact she hasn't been since before
she arrived this afternoon. The possessor left some psychological residue
behind, which is what caused your daughter to attempt an incestuous act
with you," she explained.
"I've never heard of this psychological residue before," said Sean.
"Would you explain that to me?"
"Of course. The consciousness and will of the possessor have been forcibly
removed from Theresa's mind, apparently by the same people who restored
her voice. However, the possessor left behind some of her own impulses
and emotions in a weak form. It's like echoes in an empty lecture hall;
the teacher has left and no longer commands the student, but the words
are still in the room.
"Not that I'm calling your daughter empty-headed," she clarified. The
two of them shared a brief chuckle. "So, when she's conscious, she can
shrug off the echoes very easily, but when she falls asleep, her own will
goes dormant, and the echoes become the only voice in her head, which leaves
her vulnerable to their influence. When she was on top of you, her regular
consciousness was fast asleep, and she was operating on the psychological
residue. She's not crazy, nor does having sex with her father appeal to
her," she reassured him.
"Okay, I can understand that," Sean nodded. "But, why have I never heard
of this phenomenon before?" he asked. "In all the time I've known Charles,
and Jean, and you, why has no one ever brought this up?"
"The de-possession was incomplete," she said. "The possessor didn't
want to leave, and Theresa was supposed to stay in the treatment bath a
little longer than she did. Unfortunately, a fight broke out in the facility,
and she was removed prematurely." Emma yawned. "So, the de-possession didn't
happen quite as cleanly as we're used to."
Sean didn't respond at first, he just stared at the painting on the
wall ahead of him. Finally, he looked back at Emma. "Now can you explain
something else to me?"
"Perhaps."
"What in the saints' is wrong with me?" His voice dropped to
a whisper. "Before I woke up and found her, I was dreaming about what she
was doing, and goddammit, Emma, I liked it."
"Sean, it's okay," she began.
"No, it's not," he continued. "When I woke up from the dream, but before
I realized she was actually there, I was disappointed that it had to end.
I wanted to fall asleep again and go back to that dream. And then, when
I noticed that there was really a woman sitting on top of me, and I turned
on the lamp to see who had gotten into my house, the first thing I felt,
just before I realized how sick it is to feel that way about your own child,
was 'Wow, she's hot.' Emma, what is wrong with me?"
"You're human," she said quietly. "Being a mutant doesn't change
that," she began to yawn again. "No matter what anybody says." She stopped
yawning, and placed her hand on his knee. "When you were dreaming, you
didn't know it was your own daughter, and it's not your fault that your
body doesn't care."
"I guess so," he sighed. "Still, it just seems so wrong."
"Of course it does," Emma shrugged. "It's perfectly natural to feel
that way. Just don't beat yourself up over it. Theresa is in pieces over
this, and no matter how well she cleans out her mind tomorrow morning,
I can assure you she'll be embarassed to face you. You don't both need
to be convinced you're damaged goods."
"Did you explain all this to Theresa?" he asked after a lull.
"I gave her the whole story before I asked you in. What, did you think
I'd tell you but not her?"
"I'm just covering all the bases, is all."
"All right," Emma said. "Now, unless you need something else explained
to you, I need to get some sleep, you need to get some sleep, and I need
to be close by in case Theresa tries another crazy stunt once she starts
to get some sleep."
"Okay," said Sean, getting up to leave. "Good night, Emma. And, thank
you."
"This is what we're going to do," said Emma to Theresa the next morning.
They were in Emma's bedroom, sitting face-to-face on opposite ends of her
bed in their respective sleepwear. "The old lady with the ugly necklace
broke into your apartment and used it as crash space. She made a big mess
and didn't clean it up before the police came and threw her out. So, you
have to clean up after her, but I'm going to help you."
"Okay, let's start," said Theresa.
"Close your eyes," Emma instructed.
Theresa found herself standing on a gravel road with a low stone wall
on one side and a solid wall of mirrors on the other. Ahead of her, the
mirrors showed nothing except the reflection of herself and the wall. She
turned around to see what was behind her, and found Emma at her side.
"This is Memory Lane," said Emma. "The mirror shows everything your
eyes have seen, starting behind us and going back in reverse order, the
road shows who lived through it, and the air carries your voice. If you
go back far enough, you'll find younger versions of yourself standing on
the road, and as your life goes on, older versions of you will appear.
The woman who possessed you can be found a few days back."
"So, you've seen my memories?" said Theresa. She started to walk down
the road, into her past. Emma walked beside her.
"Your most recent ones, yes. But, don't worry, I didn't find anything
too intimate, except the incident of last night, which I'd already known
about."
"Of course," said Theresa. "That's why you were in here in the first
place. Did you see anything about me and my aunt Tori? Because, I don't
know how I left her."
"You didn't hurt her, if that's what you're asking. But you did give
her quite a scare, it seems."
"Did I hurt myself in front of her?"
"No, but you did trash the inside of her house before you left. Although,
you might count getting drunk as hurting yourself in front of her."
"So she reinstated my old drinking habit?"
"Well, judging from your behavior of the last few days, it hasn't appeared
to have carried over from the possession. Whatever damage it did to your
body, I'm sure was healed along with your voice."
"Yup, that Watchtower's a real fixer-upper, I hear," Theresa muttered.
"They pulled out all the stops for me, using Logan's healing factor and
everything."
"My God, you're really torn up about that, aren't you?" said Emma.
"I just wish I could be speaking again without having Logan hurt for
it."
"Look, you know I don't know Logan very well. All I know of him is from
old battles between the Hellfire Club and the X-Men, a few brief meetings
after I awoke from my coma, and what your father's told me. But I think
he's been through much worse than what the Watchtower did to him, and he
got through it," said Emma.
"But that doesn't mean what they did to him was okay."
"Granted. But he also knows that being a mutant adventurer puts him
at risk. So, what they did to him was unpleasant, no doubt, but it was
no big shock to him. He also knows—" they both paused on the road, "that
some good came of his sacrifice."
"You think he's happy for me, then?"
"Like I said, I hardly know the man." They continued walking. "But I
don't think he begrudges you your voice and powers—in other words, resent
you for having your life back—just because they came at his expense, and
outside of your control. If he does resent you, that's his problem to deal
with, not yours."
"That's her," said Theresa. Her eyes were fixed on the apparition of
the purple-dressed old woman on the road ahead of them.
"Ah. Yes, there she is," Emma observed. "Do you hear her?"
The sound of an older female voice saying, "I don't want to lose this
body," slipped through the astral air.
"Yes, I do. I only knew her for a few seconds before she slipped that
bloody necklace on me, but she said a lot in that time," Theresa said.
"I remember her voice. Her name is Ophelia."
"Why does that not surprise me?" said Emma. "But back to the task. You'll
need to erase her image and silence her echoes. Once that's done, she'll
no longer have any power over you."
"Okay, you're experienced at this astral travel, I'm not. What do I
do to erase her image and silence her echoes?" asked Theresa.
"Do what you do to vanquish all your enemies. Your sonic scream works
here, if you choose to use it."
"Oh," Theresa said, surprised. "I didn't know those rules applied here."
"You use whatever weapons are at your disposal," said Emma. "I will
stand out of your way." She stepped behind Theresa, away from Ophelia.
Theresa opened her mouth and belted out a scream worthy of a major opera
house. The image of Ophelia washed away like colored sand on a sidewalk,
blowing away in the ocean breeze. All the mirrors behind her within eyeshot
shattered and the pieces blew away. Theresa cut off her scream and looked
back at Emma, her eyes and mouth wide open with betrayal.
"Did you know I'd also be destroying those memories when I did that?!"
"Yes. But you've only killed hers. When the road gets back to the time
before her possession, your memories are all intact."
"So why didn't you tell me I'd be erasing the memories I'd gotten from
her? I would've liked to see them!"
"Theresa, I've seen them. They're not very interesting."
"I don't care! You've gotten to see my memories, and then had me destroy
them before I could see them. You wanna be a little bit more controlling?"
"No. I got to see Ophelia's memories. They had nothing to do with you."
"No matter how boring those events were, it was my body that lived through
them, so I think they had something to do with me."
"Maybe so. Still, I doubt that their information would prove useful
to you. You're not missing anything you wanted to see."
"And how do you know what I wanted to see?" Theresa challenged.
"I've seen them, and I remember you saying to your father that you didn't
want to know what was in those mirrors."
"Emma, how could you be so dense? That was while I was in the physical
realm! What if I want to know what Ophelia used my body to do?"
"Then you learn some psychic skills, and you travel to the outside astral
realm, hunt Ophelia down, and beat it out of her."
"Fine," Theresa huffed. "Are we finished yet?"
"No. Come with me," Emma said.
The landscape dissolved to gray, and rematerialized into a small, gray
room with all the furniture pushed towards the center. In one corner was
a broom and dustpan, next to a bucket full of sudsy, dirty water with a
sponge floating on top.
"What do we do in here?" Theresa asked.
"We clean it up. Or, rather, you will." Emma raised her arms and swept
her hands outward, making several illuminated handprints appear on the
walls. "Most of those are Ophelia's. Take the sponge out of the bucket
and scrub them off the walls."
Theresa did as she was instructed. The handprints were like glowing
soot stains. They rubbed off slowly and tediously, each removal leaving
a scratchier remnant, until finally they were completely erased. "Anything
else?" she asked Emma when she was finished.
"Yes. Now I want you to take the broom, sweep the floor, especially
where you see silver hairs, and I will help you dispose of what you find."
Theresa pushed the broom around the edges of the room first, and made
a pile of swept debris near one corner. She worked inward, moving towards
Emma and the furniture and sweeping a new round of dusty matter into the
pile every few seconds. Emma pointed at the furniture and concentrated;
some more hair and dust blew out from under it, where Theresa could reach.
"You wouldn't want to miss that and leave it in here, would you?" said
Emma.
"Thank you," replied Theresa, sweeping up the junk Emma had brought
out. "There, is that all of it?" she said, looking at her pile of dust.
"Yes, that's it," Emma answered. "The gray hairs in the dust, as you
probably guessed, are from Ophelia. You've already taken care of the echoes;
this is the more subtle part of the residue. " She took a box of matches
out of her pocket and struck one on the box. "Stand back," she said. Theresa
stepped back, and Emma lit the debris on fire. The dust gave way to smoke,
the hairs glowed orange and curled inward, and after a few seconds, the
flame shrunk down to nothing, leaving only a tiny pile of ash.
Emma walked over to the door and opened it up to a gently swirling blue
nebula. "This is the outside astral plane," she said.
"That's what it looks like?" said Theresa.
"It can look like a lot of different things," Emma shrugged. "Now, blow
the ashes out the door. They'll dissipate into space and not hurt anyone."
"Can I use another scream?" Theresa asked, mischievous and hopeful.
"Of course, if that's what works."
Theresa dropped to her knees behind the ashes and lowered her head so
that her chin almost touched the floor. She let out another sonic scream,
this one much smaller and more controlled than the one she used to dissolve
Ophelia's ghost, and kept it up until all the ash was pushed out the door.
"Good job," Emma nodded.
Without warning, Theresa found herself sitting on Emma's bed again.
"Now, why don't you go back to your father's house and get dressed?"
Emma suggested, getting up. "The students will be out soon, and you don't
want to be walking through a crowd of them in a bathrobe, do you?"
"Oh God, I have to face Da again, don't I?"
"I told him you'd been possessed, Theresa. I don't think he's going
to hold your sleepwalking against you."
"But what if he does, Emma? What if he's still upset about it and isn't
ready to see me?"
"Then I'll make him suffer," Emma said nonchalantly. "He's an adult,
he's your parent, and he knows you weren't in your right mind last night,
so if he can't look at you without feeling either sick or aroused, or maybe
both, then he's the one with the problem."
"All right," Theresa sighed. "I guess that's just one of those things
that has to be done." She rose from the bed and started through the door.
Pausing in the doorway, she turned back to Emma. "Listen, I know I made
quite a fuss over shattering those mirrors, but, you know…thank you."
"You're welcome. Now, go say good morning to your dad."
Theresa crept back to her father's house, on the lookout for students
who might wonder why she was outside in a bathrobe. She spotted a few,
but they didn't say anything. When she reached Sean's cottage, she thought
she'd let herself in without a lot of ceremony, but found that the door
was locked.
"Come on, Da, let me in," she muttered while knocking on the door. Seconds
later, the door opened, with Sean on the other side.
"I'm sorry," they both blurted out. Theresa looked away uncomfortably;
Sean continued. "I didn't mean to lock you out," he said, holding the screen
door open for her. She slipped inside, hunched in on herself and clutching
the bathrobe's collar. "It's just old habits, you know? The students are
mostly good kids, but you can never tell what they'll try, so I keep the
door locked. Are you okay?"
"I'm all cleaned up now," she said quickly. "Emma took me to the astral
plane and helped me fix my problem. Da, I'm sorry…"
"It's okay, it's okay," he soothed, pushing stray curls of her hair,
which she had partly combed out, off her face. "What happened last night,
it wasn't your fault."
"Still, I'm sorry," she said. "Look, it's been really nice seeing you
again, but I'd like to leave soon. Today or tomorrow. I really need to
get back to Aunt Tori."
"Yes, I understand," he said. "We'll arrange some transportation for
you this afternoon."
**Chapter 3**
Theresa felt out of place in her coach seat on the airplane. While the
other passengers had brought their smaller bags onto the plane, she had
gone to her seat with nothing but the clothes on her back, and such casual
clothes they were at that. With her semi-tangled hair and lack of amenities,
she felt like a refugee fleeing her ravaged homeland in the middle of the
night, flying on a ticket she'd sold all her belongings to buy, while her
fellow travelers were unaware of the war.
"It's a good thing I told Da not to get me a first-class ticket," she
thought. "Then I'd really look like a freak." She had, to her credit, found
a window seat, so she could occupy herself with watching the clouds pass
by under the plane, sometimes giving way to changing expanses of land below.
"This is such a big country," she mused silently. "If I wanted to visit
someone on the other side of Ireland, the plane could go half this fast
and it wouldn't take an hour. No, wait, I wouldn't even fly, I'd take a
train and it wouldn't take this long." Her game for the flight was to guess,
according to how long she felt she'd been on the plane and by looking at
the land below, over what part of the States they were flying, and what
time it was in that part of the country. The clouds broke, and she was
an enormous river passing below, perpendicular to the body of the plane.
"Please don't let that be the Mississippi. Don't tell me we've only gone
that far now. But if it is, what time zone would that be?"
The plane landed in Sacramento. From there, it was a quick drive to
her aunt's house in Looking Glass.
"This is a nice neighborhood," said the cab driver. He'd looked at her
like she was trying to play a practical joke on him when Theresa ducked
into his cab at the airport and asked him to take her to Looking Glass.
Not that it was a very long way off, just that it was such a small town,
and she was about the second person to have ever asked to go there in his
taxi.
"My aunt's a novelist," Theresa said proudly. "She writes mysteries."
She was, in fact, not one tenth as tranquil as she had the driver thinking
she was. She had a lump in her throat the size of a kiwi fruit over the
prospect of reuniting with her aunt. Even though she'd known she had to
do it sooner than later, which was why she'd opted to fly out the day after
getting the ticket, but Theresa secretly hoped the cab driver would take
a wrong turn and she'd be able to delay the meeting by a few more minutes.
On the plane, she'd thought of her aunt's possible reactions to seeing
her back, alive and vocal. They ranged from relieved and delighted to frightened
and angry, and Theresa had no idea which one was the most likely.
"This is the street, yes?" asked the driver in his indeterminate Near
East accent.
"Yes, this is it," said Theresa. She did not, however, ask him to stop
at her aunt's house. Instead, she let him drive past it, and told him that
the house at the end of the block was her aunt's house. She gave him $20
of the money her father had given her for her travels, waited for him to
drive out of sight, and then started to walk around the block. When she
got back to her Aunt Tori's house, she was about to take another round
to delay the visit, but Tori caught her.
"Theresa, come here, darlin'!" Tori burst through the door and started
across her front yard. "Are you okay? I've been worried sick!"
"Yes, Aunt Tori, I'm fine," said Theresa with a half shrug and sad half
smile.
"And you're speaking!" Tori exclaimed. She wrapped an arm around Theresa's
lower back, and ushered her towards the house. In there, she sat her niece
down at the kitchen table and rushed to her phone. "Theresa, I can't say
how happy I am to have you back and in one piece, but I have to make a
call real quick." She hit no more than two keys on the receiver. "Hello,
may I speak to Detective Delgado, please? Thank you… Detective, it's Victoria
Donnelly…no, it's fine, she just came back…yes, my niece…just a second
ago…oh, she's fine, in fact I've never seen her better!…Thank you!…Bye."
She hung up, and turned back to Theresa. "I had that detective on my speed
dial," she explained.
"You had the police looking for me?" Theresa asked, surprised.
"Of course! When I came home to find you stumbling around here drunk
and looking like you'd been possessed by spirits, and then left in that
state and didn't come back after some hours, I was afraid of what might
happen to you and started pestering the police about it."
"Um, about my stumbling around here drunk and disappearing…" Theresa
began.
"Don't worry about it," said Tori with a wave of a hand. "I know you've
had problems with the drink before, and what with losing your voice and
all, I don't blame you for slipping up." She took Theresa's hand in hers
from across the table and patted it. "All I care about is that you're okay.
And you've got your voice back so soon! How did you manage that?"
"I'm just a fast healer," Theresa lied. She was about to say, "I really
was possessed by spirits," but decided, gratefully, that it wouldn't be
necessary. "Aunt Tori, just how much damage did I do here before I left?"
she asked instead.
"Nothing of value," Tori shrugged. "I needed to get rid of some old
junk anyway. Now, tell me, where have you been for the past week and a
half? Just how much could you do without even a driver's license or bank
card?"
"Did I leave my wallet here?" Theresa asked. Some time after saying
goodbye to Deadpool, she'd realized she didn't know where it and its contents
were, and, between making her way up the Eastern Seaboard and looking for
places to sleep, she wondered what she'd have to go through to replace
all those things.
Tori nodded. "I left it on top of your dresser."
"Oh, thank God," said Theresa. "When I woke up out of my stupor, don't
ask me how, because I don't know, but I was on the other side of this blasted
huge country."
"That's quite a trip to make in the state you were in," said Tori, taken
aback.
"I know," said Theresa. "So I went to see my father, since he went to
visit me just after I lost my voice, and I wasn't there. I stayed with
him for a night, then he bought me a plane ticket back here."
"That was good of him, but," Tori began. "Why didn't you call me from
your father's place? I would've liked to know my niece was alive and well!"
"Well, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea," said Theresa.
"Why not? Is your father so afraid of racking up his long-distance bill?"
"Aunt Tori, I didn't know how you'd react. I mean, I didn't remember
just what I'd done to your house, or to you, for that matter, before I
left, so how should I have known how you'd feel about hearing from me?
Besides, when I showed up at Da's school, he didn't believe it was me,
at first, since I was speaking so soon."
"Then who did he think you were?"
"A shape-shifter trying to break into his school, I guess," Theresa
shrugged. "Still, I thought, if I came back here, it might be tense, but
at least you couldn't hang up on me, and I'd be pretty close to my friends
if need be."
"Okay, that's a fair point. But, Terry, have some faith in your old
aunt! Did you really think I wouldn't talk to you, just because you had
an episode here and broke a few things?"
"No, I thought I might have been violent to you while I was so drunk
and delirious, and then you'd be in the hospital, or at home packing up
my things and sending them back to San Francisco," Theresa said loudly.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Theresa sighed and looked
at her lap, Tori bit her lip and looked to the side. Finally, Tori spoke
up.
"Terry, when I got home and found you in such a state, you didn't try
to hurt me. You just looked at me strangely and sort of stumbled out."
"Well, I tend not to remember things I do when I'm drunk, so I couldn't
be sure," Theresa explained. "But the good news is, I haven't had a drink
since I woke up on the East Coast." She decided not to tell her aunt about
wandering around the South in Goodwill clothes and hitchhiking with a truck
driver.
"That's wonderful," Tori nodded in approval. "Now, why don't you go
into your room, put on something nice, and we'll go out to dinner to celebrate
your safe return?"
After dinner, Theresa retired to bed in the room that Tori had set aside
for her. Dinner had been pleasantly uneventful and uneventfully pleasant,
and, after days of drifting helplessly from place to place with little
more than chance to keep her going, she finally had the chance to slow
down, relax, stop worrying. Once she was able to do that, however, she
found more to worry about. Before she'd come to live with Tori, she'd left
X-Force unceremoniously in the middle of the night. She hadn't wanted any
ceremony, and had predicted that they would understand why. Her father
had traveled all the way out there to be there for her, and she'd been
away the whole day, avoiding him and letting her teammates worry. They
found out soon enough that she was okay, and she'd just been to visit her
father. What really haunted her mind was the last person she'd spoken to
before she left--Jimmy. The way he'd looked when she handed him her letter;
so tired and vulnerable, which she once thought he'd never look, and the
way he'd hugged her so warmly and gently when her cab arrived, floated
behind her eyes so persistently that she knew of nothing else to think
about. He'd asked her to stay at the warehouse at least until morning,
but she'd been in such a rush to get out, why? Theresa knew she had a good
reason back then, but for the life of her she couldn't remember it. The
scene reappeared to her, just as real as the bed underneath her, and then
she knew she had a chance to redo it.
"I wish you'd reconsider, at least stay until morning," said James.
"I can't stay here, you know that," she said.
"Then stay until morning?" he pleaded.
Theresa thought about it for a minute, and decided it wouldn't
hurt her to get some sleep before leaving for her aunt's house. "You know,
I think I'll do that," she said. Her nightshirt appeared on her out of
nowhere, and she found nothing wrong with this occurrence. She was curled
up in bed beside James, who wrapped his arm around her before falling back
to sleep.
When she woke up, she felt confused at first that James was not waking
up beside her. Then, she remembered that she was not in San Francisco,
and the last time she was, she could not speak, and did not sleep beside
James before she left. "Oh, bugger," she thought.
"Sleep well, dear?" Tori asked at breakfast.
Theresa started to say "Yes," out of habit, but then changed her mind.
"No. I stayed awake most of the night."
"Really? I thought you'd be jet-lagged all to Hades," Tori grinned.
"I thought so, too, but I had a lot on my mind."
"Oh, no. Don't tell me it's more of that rubbish about getting violent
while you were drunk and wrecking the house and hurting me."
"No, it's not that, Aunt Tori. Remember that nice young man I told you
about?"
"Who, James?" Tori confirmed.
"Yes, him," Theresa nodded. "I started thinking about a lot of things
last night, and he kept coming back." She took a sip of coffee.
"You make it sound like that's a bad thing," Tori said.
"Well, it was. I don't like staying up all night worrying."
"Now, whatever were you worried about, Terry? Did something bad happen
to James and you don't know what condition he's in?"
"No, not that I know of. It's just that…I decided to move in with you
very suddenly after I lost my voice, and Jimmy didn't want me to leave.
I came back in the middle of the night after wandering around the city
all day, and Jimmy was the only one awake, so I gave him a letter explaining
why I needed to get out. He didn't want me to leave so soon, but I couldn't
wait to be out of there," she sighed. "I hate to think of how that made
him feel."
"But you've kept in touch with him since you've been here, right?"
"Yes, we've been emailing each other."
"And he's seemed friendly enough?"
"Well, he mostly sounded concerned at first…" Theresa began.
"But he didn't seem put out or trying to guilt-trip you or anything
like that?"
"No, of course not—"
"And how was he after you convinced him you were doing okay out here?"
"I don't know, just…pleasant, I guess. Wanted to keep in contact, and
all."
"So, if he was hurt by your leaving, I think he's gotten over it by
now."
Theresa's shoulders slumped; she looked down and played with her cereal.
"I don't know, Aunt Tori. I just couldn't shake this feeling that I snubbed
him somehow. I mean, I still think it was a good idea all along that I
came to live with you, but maybe I should've taken a little more time to
go over it with my friends, especially him."
"Well, Theresa," Tori began, raising a crinkled eyebrow. "You've been
here for months. Why are you just feeling this way now? Why didn't you
have one of these sleepless nights when you first moved in?"
"Well when I first moved in," Theresa explained. "I'd just lost my voice,
and was all wrapped up in my own pain. So I wasn't really thinking about
anyone else's feelings. Now that my voice has come back, I'm not wallowing
in self-pity all the time, so I can afford to think about how I'm making
others feel. Does that make sense?"
"Of course it makes sense!" Tori pronounced, bringing her coffee cup
to the tabletop with a resounding knock. "But I'd like to know more. It's
interesting that, of all the things you could be thinking about your friends,
the one that keeps you up all night is that you're afraid you hurt your
best friend's feelings. Did you ever try, or entertain a notion of trying,
to be more than friends with Jimmy?"
"Actually," Theresa began to laugh nervously, and did her best to stifle
it. "It was sort of the other way around…"
"My lord, you kids these days," Tori ejected. They were still at the
breakfast table, and after hearing her young cousin's story, Victoria Donnelly
was collapsed into her chair, staring at Theresa with wide, bewildered
eyes. "It's just one whirlwind of emotion after another. No wonder you're
on tenterhooks about that boy's feelings. But I don't think the problem
is quite what you're saying."
"Then, what is it?" Theresa asked. She sat slumped over her half-emptied
cereal bowl with her arms folded up against her stomach, peering uncomfortably
at her aunt. "Are you telling me it's even more complicated than I think?"
"No, nothing of the sort. I think you like this boy Jimmy, and you're
worried about walking out on him too fast because you want him to still
like you," said Tori.
"But then, why wouldn't I just think about him still liking me, instead
of worrying all night about how I've hurt him?"
"Because, Theresa darling, everything in your life is complicated,"
Tori chuckled. "Now tell me, do you remember your dreams from last night?"
Theresa recalled waking up that morning and realizing that her being
in James' arms the night before was all a dream. "Yes," she admitted.
"And did he appear in them at all?" asked her aunt.
"Yes." She began eating the rest of her cereal, hoping it would buy
her some time before having to share the details.
"And what was he like in the dream?"
"He was himself," Theresa shrugged, talking through her mouthful.
"Himself, meaning, what? How was he towards you?"
"Well, he wanted me to stay. It was back to the night that I left the
team, and he was just being himself. He wanted me to give it a few more
hours."
"And then what did you do?"
"I decided to stay the night. He liked that," Theresa clipped, and dug
into her cereal.
Since her head was folded down so low over her bowl, she did not see
her aunt studying her with narrowed eyes and drumming fingers from across
the table. After Theresa finished her cereal, Tori piped up again. "There's
something you're hiding from me. How did Jimmy let you know he 'liked that'?"
Theresa groaned and looked upward for divine intervention, but knew
she had to answer. "I got into bed with him, and he put his arm around
me. But really, don't go getting all excited, we had our jammies on and
we just slept. That's it."
"Still, it's very sweet," Tori smiled. "You know what I think the problem
is? You really like that boy, and you want him to still like you. And you're
afraid that if you stomped on him hard enough, he doesn't like you so much
anymore."
"My, you've just got everything in my head figured out, eh, Aunt Tori?"
Theresa sneered, taking her breakfast dishes to the sink. "Not even I can
sort through it, but I can't get anything past you, can I?"
"Well, you tell me, do you like him? As more than just a friend?" Tori
asked.
"Yes," Theresa rolled her eyes. "Now are you happy?" She started to
wash her dishes.
"Well, Terry, that's wonderful!" Tori spoke up over the running water.
"You know, now that your voice is back, you can go back to San Francisco
and move back in with your friends, and there you can start something with
him."
Theresa pretended not to hear.
"Go ahead, ask him out," Tori continued. "A lot of women are doing that
these days, going after men instead of waiting for it to happen the other
way around, and it works very well for them, I hear. If Jimmy's problem
is that he's just shy, then that's the ticket."
Theresa placed her clean dishes into the drainer, and walked out of
the kitchen without a word or a look at her aunt.
"Okay, maybe that's a sign," Theresa muttered under her breath. She
sat in front of her aunt's computer in the study, where the Internet connection
was. She had just tried to dial up, only to get the "check your password
and try again" message. "This is your last chance, or your monitor is toast,"
she growled, re-typing the password and hitting Enter. This time, the connection
went through. She opened up her email program and hit the shortcut keys
to check her mail, looking for some reason to disregard her aunt's advice
from breakfast. There appeared several junk messages, a message from her
father with the subject line "How was your flight?", and two from James.
Theresa drew in a breath to compose herself, and continued. She deleted
the spam, then opened up her father's message. It was brief and pretty
routine, just asking her to write back and tell him she made it back safely.
"Yup, the flight went just fine," she wrote back. "(No, scratch that, we
crashed in Nebraska and they're pulling my lifeless body out of the plane
right now. >:->) Aunt Tori's fine, too. Love, Theresa."
After moving that message to the folder marked "Da," she opened up the
first of James' two messages. It was dated nine days before, just an ordinary
reply to the last message she'd sent him in their regular correspondence.
She felt a gentle rush of contentment well up in her, upon seeing those
words again, and realizing how much she'd missed hearing from him. Instead
of replying to it, she moved on to the next one from James, this one dated
five days later. "I haven't heard from you in a few days," he wrote. "Are
you okay? Did you get my last message? Write me soon." Theresa hit Reply,
and wrote back, "Don't worry, I'm fine. My aunt's ISP got their lines crossed
and cut off her service for several days. We just got back online yesterday,"
she lied. In truth, she had been walking along the interstate in central
Virginia when he sent her that message. She hit Send, then Exit. Finally,
Disconnect.
"Checking your mail?" came a voice from behind her. Tori stood in the
doorway of the study.
"Just finished, Aunt Tori," Theresa answered.
"Good, then," said Tori. "I'd like to work on my new novel, so I'll
need privacy."
Theresa stood up from her seat and walked towards the doorway. Her aunt
slipped in and sat down at the other computer. "Listen, Aunt Tori," she
began.
"Yes?" Tori turned around in her swivel chair and looked up at her niece.
"I'm sorry."
"About our exchange in the kitchen?" Theresa nodded. "I understand it's
a sensitive issue, so you're forgiven. Just think about what I said, okay?"
"I am."
Theresa went outside to tend her aunt's garden. That was her favorite
part of living with Aunt Tori; the nicely laid-out plot of herbs and flowers
behind her house. She had been raised by her father's cousin, Tom Cassidy,
whom she called Uncle Tom. He taught her gardening in her childhood. Even
after he sent her to boarding school to hide his career as a criminal from
her, and news of his arrest and imprisonment reached her, she still loved
to tend plants just the way he'd taught her. It was the one activity that
reminded Theresa of the uncle she loved; rather than the one she couldn't
trust. Tori usually stayed at her keyboard for a few hours when she worked
on her novels, so Theresa had plenty of time alone with the plants. She
was back in her own clothes, finally, and had finished combing her hair
back to curls rather than dreads. Never in her life had she anticipated
feeling so comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt and a smooth ponytail.
"I have my voice back, so why not go back to X-Force? Tori has no problem
with me leaving," she asked herself. "Well, just because I can speak and
use my powers again, doesn't mean I shouldn't look for something else to
do with my life. Besides, I like it here with Aunt Tori. She's very nice,
and it's pleasant here."
"But I also like it with X-Force. I miss them, I miss the city, and
God help me, I actually get something good out of risking my life to save
a world that'd just as soon be shut of us," she thought. "At least there,
I pull my weight. If I don't get a day job soon, I'll be bored out of my
skull and feel useless here."
"So, then, why not try to start something with Jimmy? I want to be with
him, and he's about the best I could ever hope for," she thought.
"Oh, let me count the ways. He might not feel that way about me anymore.
It's been a long time since I could even sort of clearly tell. And then,
even if he does still like me, what kind of a girlfriend would I make?
I've got all sorts of issues to fuck up a relationship, and I don't want
to put him through that."
"You know, he already knows about my problems, and after he learned
about them, he was still smitten with me. Of course, that doesn't mean
I should try to start a relationship."
"And then, what if I ask him out and he says no? Wouldn't that make
things kind of awkward in that warehouse?"
"Well," she thought after chewing on her last question for a few minutes.
"We'd get over it soon enough," she decided. "Still, I'm not so sure I'm
cut out to get that involved with another person, what with my substance
abuse and abandonment issues and trust problems and whatnot."
"Well, Theresa, this looks lovely," came Tori's voice from the direction
of the house. Theresa, on her knees and picking weeds and dead tree leaves
out of the garden, looked up and saw her aunt stepping out of the back
door of her house.
"Thanks, Aunt Tori," she said. "You know I like to garden."
"Yes, I know that. So, what is it you want to do?" she asked the young
woman pulling intruders out of her garden.
"Um, what do you mean by that?" Theresa asked.
"I mean, now that your voice is restored, you can go back to your old
life if you want."
"Well, I would like to go back to X-Force, crazy as it is," said Theresa.
"I do like living with you, Aunt Tori," she began.
"No, it's quite alright, darling, I don't take it personally," Tori
cut in.
"I just feel more useful over there," Theresa continued. "I mean, I
can get behind what I'm doing with them."
"Yes, I can see what you mean," Tori nodded.
Theresa went back to poring over the garden. "But I'm torn about Jimmy."
"That's okay. I think it's best to give it some thought before you go
running after a relationship; it means you'll really be into it if it does
happen," said Tori. "But, if you don't mind me asking, what is it that's
tearing you up?"
"Aunt Tori, do you honestly think I'm relationship material? I'm all
screwed up, with more 'issues' than the National Enquirer. Why would I
want to expose anyone to that?"
"Theresa, from what you've told me about this James fellow, he already
knows about your 'issues,' and isn't bothered by them."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean it'll all be okay. Who knows how badly I
could screw things up?"
"Why don't you give yourself a chance? You might find that you're not
half as badly off as you think."
"And why do you say that?" Theresa asked, pausing from her gardening.
"Well, you're lucid enough to know you're not perfect," said Tori. "If
you were really far gone, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Besides,
nobody out there's gotten their mind all straightened out. We've all got
our problems, but we're still willing to take a chance, and try to love
someone."
"I don't see a special someone in your life," Theresa was about to say,
but bit her lip. She knew the answer might be something involving "spousal
death," or "infidelity," or something else to make her sorry she asked.
"What if I go back there, and it doesn't work out?" she asked instead.
"How about this?" her aunt began. "You pack up a bag of what you'll
need to get by for the next few days, and go back to your friends in San
Francisco. If everything's okay back there, drop me a line, and I'll send
you the rest of your things. If there's not a place for you there anymore,
just come right back."
"Thank you," Theresa smiled. "I'd like that."
"Good!" Tori pronounced. "Now, what about James?"
"I'll ask him if he'd like to give it a go with me," she answered. "Maybe
not the very day I arrive," she shrugged, "but I'll work up the nerve soon
enough."
"I'm sure you will," Tori said. "So, when are you going?"
"Can't I stay here for a few more days?" Theresa asked.
"Of course," Tori laughed. "I'm not about to send you on your way when
you just flew in yesterday. Take your time."
After Tori went back inside, her words, "give yourself a chance," echoed
through Theresa's mind. It was the first time in her life that someone
had told her she wasn't as messed up as she thought. She had been loved,
supported, helped, and trusted, but this was the first time Theresa could
remember someone who actually knew her, explicitly expressing such faith
in her.
"Aunt Tori's a smart woman," thought Theresa. "If she thinks I can do
it, then maybe I really can."
"But, then, what if I screw it up after all?" she asked herself. "What
if I give myself a chance, and blow it? And what if I hurt Jimmy in the
process?"
"'We've all got our problems, but we're willing to take a chance,'"
Tori had said just a few minutes ago.
"I guess, everyone takes that risk," Theresa thought. "So why shouldn't
I?"
**Chapter 4**
The walk from the bus stop to the warehouse went quickly. Several days
after her conversation with Aunt Tori in the garden, Theresa had taken
a train to San Francisco, then a bus from the train station to the stop
nearest the warehouse. From there, she rushed excitedly through the pedestrian
traffic despite the heavy bag she carried. After spending several months
in the barely map-worthy Looking Glass, interrupted only by a trek through
the rural backwoods and up the East Coast in a truck, then a brief flight
across Massachusetts, the sight of the city was exhilarating. It was two
blocks from the bus stop to the warehouse where X-Force was living when
she left to move in with Tori. When she reached the warehouse, the El Dorado
was parked on the street in front of it, so she assumed that at least one
or two of her friends were home.
Theresa dropped her bag by her feet on the front step, and knocked on
the door. Within seconds, it opened, and on the other side stood her old
teammate, Sam Guthrie, who looked just as surprised to see Theresa as she
was overjoyed to see him.
"SAM!!" she cried, and threw out her arms to grab her friend.
"Terry, you can talk!" Sam observed as Theresa jumped on him.
"Yes, I can!" she sang. "And it's so lovely to see you again!"
The commotion they produced brought three more members of X-Force; Roberto
DaCosta, Tabitha Smith, and Jesse Aaronson into the living room to see
what all the noise was about.
"Sam, whose legs are those wrapped around your waist—Terry!" came Tabitha's
voice.
"Yes, Tabitha, it's me!" Theresa let go of Sam and went to embrace Tabitha,
with whom she had never been very close friends, but who had always been
her teammate, and whom she was delighted to see.
"Wow, it's great to see you've gotten your voice back," said Jesse from
just behind and beside Tabitha.
"And it feels great, too. Very nice to see you, Jesse," said Theresa.
She paused to shake Jesse's hand, while he had apparently been expecting
a hug like Sam and Tabitha, who had known Theresa for much longer.
"And how about me?" asked Roberto.
"C'mere, you!" Theresa commanded, and did the same move on the much
shorter Roberto as she'd done on the tall, lanky Sam.
After Roberto was finished swinging her around a few times, it was time
for questions.
"Terry, how did you get your voice back so soon?" Tabitha asked.
"That's a long story," said Theresa. "Now, where's Jimmy?"
The team all went silent and looked conspicuously confused and uncomfortable.
"Uh, we really don't know…" was the prevailing answer.
"Nonsense. One of you must have seen him leave. Now where did he go?"
Theresa demanded.
"Terry, why don't you just not worry about Jimmy right now?" Jesse suggested.
"There's an open mike at your favorite coffee house tonight, and now that
you have your voice, you can go yell at the singers!"
"I can do that another night!" said Theresa. "Right now, I want to find
Jimmy."
*
"That was real nice," sighed a drowsily contented James Proudstar to
the woman lying beside him.
"Same here," said his lover, Danielle Moonstar. "Next Tuesday night?"
"Yep," said James. He laid a light kiss on her cheek, just next to the
corner of her mouth. "That, or sooner." They both laughed their sleepy,
soft chuckle. Suddenly, James went bolt upright and looked at the door,
his light laughter gone. "Do you hear that?" he asked Dani. "I think that's
Terry's voice."
"It sure sounds like something's going on in there," said Dani. "But
how can Terry be speaking again already? Besides, we weren't expecting
her back here, right?"
"I don't know, and no, we weren't, but we'd better get dressed," said
James, reaching for the nearest article of clothing.
Theresa marched down the hall towards James's room. "Jimmy, are you
here?" she called. "Where could he be?"
Her apprehensive teammates trailed after her. "Terry, I really don't
think you should go in there," said Roberto, just as she reached the door
to James's room.
She was determined to look the warehouse over for James, and if he wasn't
there, she'd leave a note on his pillow, which she preferred to remove
when she found out he was home and surprised him in his room. "Why not?"
she asked, and opened up the door, just as James pulled his shirt over
his head.
There stood a very stricken-looking James in his t-shirt and boxers,
and Dani in her shorts and bra, with her hair, usually worn in two long
braids, all loose and rumpled.
"See, this is why you're supposed to knock," said Sam, and then ducked
out of sight.
"Hi, Terry," was all James could manage. Dani said nothing, only grabbed
her top from off the floor next to James's bed, and put it on.
Theresa felt like she had just climbed to the top of a mountain and
then been pushed off a ledge. She wanted to scream, "How could you do this
to me?!" at the both of them, or maybe just plain scream until their heads
blew up, but the words didn't come out. She was hyperventilating, and couldn't
stop until her vision grew blurry from the tears filling her eyes.
"Terry, please, talk to me," said James. He tried to reach out to hold
her hand, calm her down, but she pulled back.
"No," Theresa sobbed. She ran through the very confused and benumbed
Tabitha, Jesse, and Roberto and out of sight.
"James, what was that about?" Dani demanded. "Were you involved with
her before she left, and didn't tell me?"
"No, Dani, honestly, I wasn't. Guys, did she say anything to you?" James
asked his teammates.
"Only that she wanted to see you," said Jesse. "She didn't say why,
though."
"Jimmy, I'm just as surprised as you are," said Tabitha. "We didn't
want her to walk in on you guys, but I had no idea she'd be that upset."
"Well, I must say, she's picked a lousy time to have designs on James,"
said Roberto.
"Shut up, Bobby," said Dani. "She might hear you. Jimmy, put your pants
back on and go talk to Theresa. If 'having designs on you' is really her
problem, then no doubt she's pissed at me for stealing you away."
"Sure, she'll feel that way for about five minutes," said James. "And
then she'll blame herself."
*
James found Theresa on the roof of the warehouse, wracked with sobs.
When she saw him coming, she got up and stumbled to the farthest ledge.
He followed her there, at first worried, then remembering that he was the
only one in any possible danger.
"Terry, what's the matter?" he asked.
This time, she was much more articulate. "I think you know what's the
matter!" she shouted at him, and then went back to crying.
"No, actually, I don't."
"Then I guess we're even," she squeaked, beginning to calm down.
"What?" he started, and then it clicked with him. "Were you planning
to ask me out? Is that it?"
"Not anymore I'm not!" she shouted, looking back at him briefly from
her seat on the ledge.
"So you really were," he said. "I'm sorry, Terry. I had no idea."
"How long has this been going on?" she asked.
"You mean my relationship with Dani?"
Theresa winced at the word "relationship," but went on. "Yes, that.
How long have you been at this with her?"
"A few weeks," he shrugged.
"If you'd known," she croaked, "Would you have stopped?"
"I really can't answer that."
Theresa's crying started up again. "Maybe I should've waited a little
while before I left this place," she said. "Perhaps I could've given it
a little more time. But, goddammit, I thought you'd miss me, Jimmy! And
all that time I was away, you really made me believe you did."
"I have missed you, Terry," he began. He gently lowered his hands to
her shoulders, which he had touched so many times before, and she had always
found the gesture comforting.
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked.
James snapped back. "Okay. I guess I'm not the one to comfort you right
now. Can I sit down beside you?"
Theresa pointed to a spot at arm's length from her. James took a seat
on the ledge, just out of her reach. "I really have missed you."
"You've got a funny way of showing it," she sobbed.
"Just because I'm with Dani now, doesn't mean I'm not happy you decided
to come back. It doesn't mean I'm not thrilled for you for having your
voice back. And it never meant that I didn't want you here, while you were
away. You don't know how much I loved keeping in touch with you. Every
time you wrote back to me, I was always so happy to find it in my inbox,
just so I knew you were still okay."
"Then why didn't you wait?" Theresa asked through her tears.
"Terry, you were away, and I didn't know how long you'd be gone. Just
because I cared about you—and I still do—doesn't mean I was about to put
my life on hold waiting for you to come back. And besides—we never really
had a relationship."
"I know," Theresa squeaked. "Bobby was right. I waited too long."
"Don't listen to him; he doesn't know what he's talking about. He was
away from the team for a long time, and all the time he's been with us,
he's never been close to you or me. Bobby doesn't know the whole story,"
said James.
"Tabitha said the same thing," said Theresa.
"Tabitha? When?"
"Back when we were rescuing you from That Bitch*, Tabitha said I was
'a little late' to be getting protective of you, and she was right," Theresa
recalled. "Sorry to bring that up again."
"Same thing with Tabitha," said James. "How well does she know either
of us?"
"I think we all know each other pretty well here," Theresa sighed, her
tears slowing down again.
"Okay, that's a good point. But still, she never heard your side of
the story, and she never heard mine, either. So you don't have to take
what she says about you and me to heart. I don't hold anything against
you," James reassured her.
"Do you really feel that way?" Theresa asked, turning her head to look
at him.
"Yes."
"Well, that makes one of us."
They were both silent for a few minutes. Finally, James broke the silence.
"Terry, I don't know what to say. I wish you'd come inside, get caught
up with everyone. We'd all love to know how you got your voice back so
soon—"
"Jimmy," she interrupted. "I'll be in later. Right now I need some time
to myself."
"Okay," James nodded. "I'll tell you when dinner's ready, if you're
not in by then."
"James, what was that about?" Dani asked him when he came back inside.
He found her in the kitchen, where she and Sam helped Jesse start on dinner.
"Well," James said. "It seems Terry was hoping to ask me out when she
arrived."
"Oops," said Jesse.
"And did she try it up there?" Dani asked.
"No, she just yelled at me a little and then came down hard on herself,"
said James. "She's still on the roof now."
"Looks like it's about to rain," said Sam. "I hope she doesn't stay
up there for very long, or she'll catch cold."
"Yeah, well, if she's not in by then, I'll go up to retrieve her, and
if she doesn't listen to me, she'll probably listen to you, Sam," said
James.
"Did she tell any of you she was coming?" Dani asked. "Because I sure
didn't expect her to walk in today."
Sam and Jesse both answered with a "No," and a shrug.
"She didn't tell me she was coming, either," said James.
"So I guess she decided to surprise us," said Dani. "And she certainly
did. It would've been nice if we'd known she was coming, so we wouldn't
be in bed together when she arrived."
"That was embarrassing, wasn't it?" Jesse remarked.
"Bewildering is more like it," Dani replied. "James and I didn't know
what was going on, we just knew we had to have our clothes on, right
now. That was no way to greet our teammate after a long absence."
Jesse started to laugh under his breath, joined quickly by Sam. James
and Dani didn't laugh.
"I guess we'll find this funny a year from now," said Dani.
James went back up the roof to find Theresa standing in the rain with
her back to him. She had gotten off the ledge and stepped a few feet back,
and now stood slumped over with her arms crossed over her chest.
"Terry, it's me," said James, slowly walking towards Theresa.
"H'lo, Jimmy," she breathed in a tired half-moan, without looking at
him.
"Listen, I know you're used to the rain, but you really shouldn't be
out here in this. Please come inside, dinner's on the table."
"Jimmy, I'm sorry," she said when he was just inches behind her.
"About what?"
"About what I said before, like how I said I wanted you to miss me,"
she explained, still hunched over her arms and turning her back to him.
"That wasn't a nice thing of me to say."
"I know what you meant, and I understand," he said. "Don't worry." He
very slowly, carefully lowered his hands to her shoulders. This time, she
didn't mind.
"How is it with Dani?" she asked. "Is she very special to you?"
"Dani and I really like each other. We haven't been involved for very
long, but it's going pretty well so far."
"That's good," she sighed.
"Listen, Terry," he said. He lowered his arms to hold her around the
waist, and, finding that she did not object, held her tighter and leaned
over her to shield her from the rain. "If you just haven't been with someone
in a long time, and you're lonely, then you're in the right place now.
You're in a big, lively city full of great single men," he said.
She said nothing, only hung forward over his forearms and looked at
their feet.
"And some of them might even like women," he finished.
Theresa broke out into a gentle shudder of laughter. "That would be
a find."
"Terry, come inside with me, okay? We'll both be soaked if we stay out
here any longer. I can handle the cold, but I don't want you to be upset
and sick, too."
"Okay," she sighed. "I guess I've been up here long enough."
The next morning, Theresa turned on the team's PC and logged into her
SF-based email account.
"Dear Aunt Tori," she wrote. "I've decided to stay here. Please send
the rest of my stuff on over. Thanks so much for all your kindness toward
me. Yours, Theresa." Send. Exit. Disconnect.
* "That Bitch" would be Risque. In X-Force #51-66, she met James, saved
his life, and got all lovey-dovey with him, and then sold him out for a
job she was doing for a mutant named Sledge. The only person more offended
by this than James was Theresa.