This is my first real attempt at writing fanfiction. I don't think we saw enough of Alisha's power in Season 3 and I thought this would be an interesting way for her to utilise it.

I don't own Misfits.

He's out again.

The thing she hates. The mask is missing.

He knows that she knows but he does it anyway. He has to; because he has. Will do again. But he can't. He can't.

Alisha is alone in the flat. The bed is made; corners tucked in perfectly, pillows puffed. Worry has changed her. Fixated her on the little things. Everything suddenly counts. The beer she holds calls to her; disgusts her too. Needs to forget, bottle at her lips. Needs to remember, spits into the sink. Every second. Even the worry.

She stares longingly at the lift. Clingy. One word she'd never applied to herself before. Pathetic. That's what it was. What she is now.

She tugs self-consciously at her hair. A Simon trait she's picked up. The thought makes her smile. Freak is contagious.

Wonders over to the bed. Smoothes out a crease. Huffs, sits down. Messes up her work. She misses him. Which him? Both of them. Neither one more than the other, perhaps. Different. Just different.

Except - one's coming back.

He's endearing. The idea of them is. She doesn't like to think she's only with him because of the future. But she can't help that she's only seeing him clearly now. Now she knows he's there.

Separated from the world. Never letting herself feel, never letting herself see, never reading between the lines. Cut off, defensive, automatic. She gave what was expected of her.

She lets herself feel now. Feels the bile rise in the back of the throat as the excruciating memories of all the horrible words she said to Simon floods back in her mind. It's instinctive to pick on the unique; takes too much effort to get to know. She smirks slightly. Unique, that's how she thinks of him now. The still new warmth of love pumps hard in her chest at this realisation. Simon has changed her for the better.

The heat pumps lower in her as her thoughts take a more comforting direction. She's changed him too. Still learning, but getting there. Patience… not exactly her strong suit, she has to learn too. He learns quicker than she does. He's quick, but so agonisingly thorough she aches the entire time. Lust, love, the ability to now be touched controls her the second his fingers echo over her skin. He experiments, lingers, enjoys. She pants. Wants. It. Now.

Future Simon gave it to her. Took it from her. She moans as she slides deeper onto the bed. Yes, maybe a guilty part of her misses him a tiny bit more. Misses letting herself go in someone else. She's learned to keep her head above water, in case he loses his. But maybe she doesn't want to lead any more; maybe she's ready to be led.

Her fingers slips under the waist band of her underwear. There's something she's been meaning to try.

Hesitates for a second, fingers laying on her pubic hair. Quickly uses her power to check in with Simon. Sees through his eyes. Lots of heights and concrete. She panics. He breathes hard. Sways. She looks for a marker to reveal his location. But he slumps to the ground. Steadying himself, his breathing. Making use of the random flashes his power gives him. Not here, not now. Bad choice. Wait awhile. Move on.

She pulls herself back into the empty lair. Coming back into herself, re-registering the feel of her fingers. She's content as she's ever going to be knowing that he's out there, doing that. Anger flairs hotly under her skin, frustration making her need pulse harder.

Escapism. Experimentation. It wasn't so wrong. Simon himself gave into these sins and she wasn't even talking about his frequent wanking over her. He uses his comic books and Battle Star Galactica boxset to escape. She uses this. He experimented timelessly with his power. Now was her chance.

She closes her eyes and kicks off her pants. Unsure where to begin. Simon would know what to focus on, what would help her. But she couldn't never ask that of him. Never let him know about this. No lies, just not the complete truth. Couldn't - wouldn't - upset him like that.

Maybe in the future he would understand why she needed this.

The idea had been growing in the back of her head. Maybe it wasn't even possible. But so many impossibilities were possible these days.

Presses a finger to her sensitive spot, works her desperate arousal over the bud. Pretends, imagines, remembers it being his finger. Fingers. Everywhere. Loving, rough. Just enough rough as he flipped her over. The backs of her knees, caressed. The lull of her legs falling open for him. The heat behind every movement, reunited with a lover she hadn't had yet.

Her first time with him.

She mewls loudly, inserting two fingers into herself. She could remember the way he looked at her so clearly. A look that shot waves of pleasure into her that no touch ever could. A look that said too much. Far too much for her to ever understand. She wonders vaguely through the thick haze if she looks at Simon like that sometimes. Knowing more than him for once.

Between her legs; his weight too much and never enough against her body as she moved with him. Opened herself wider for him. Sensitive skin brushing - burning, against sensitive skin. Hooked her ankles over his ass. Pulled him in deeper than she'd ever let anyone in.

Lips barely touching, he shot his eyes up to meet hers. So blue. It was the look in his eyes that made her come, that very first time.

She keeps moving her fingers in and out of herself. Faster. Harder. Curling. Continues to stare up into the memory of his eyes behind her closed eyelids. Pushes against herself into him. Pushes with inhuman strength as she rolls up onto her knees to ride against her fingers desperately, groaning.

Tenses her body as she sinks into the blue. Sinks just deep enough to feel it happen. Tenses even harder to make herself stay. Memory becomes something more. Her mind races quicker than she thought was ever possible, passing points of time that become flicks of light against the dark. Her eyes remain closed but she feels like she has opened them, her head spinning. Fingers jerk inside her as she looks around herself - himself. Feels the pleasure mount.

Everything is exactly the same, yet flipped. Opposite. She looks down, pleasure in her lower half doubling. Now and where her mind is. No longer a memory. No longer her body.

Behind her eyelids, behind everything that makes Alisha who she is, was this moment. Happening all over again. Right now - back then.

She looks through Simon's eyes down at her own body. The feel of Simon's pleasure mixing with her own. His hand spread out over her thigh, fingers widening over her heated skin; claiming. She moans now. Just as she moaned then. The movement turning her on to breaking point. She wanted - wants - to be his.

Her free hand pinches her hard nipples, the sight of her own breasts heaving making her and Simon near the edge. Never quite looking though, he was too focused on her face. She hadn't noticed that the first time, she was too focused on feeling him.

Nose skims over collarbone, up her neck, over her cheek, rubs the tip of hers with his, presses his forehead against hers. She sighs deeply, gripping onto his forearms, her mouth falling open enough for him to brush his tongue against hers.

The look, it was coming. So was she. It was and would be her undoing all over again. She sinks deeper onto her fingers, panting. So lost, so loud. Not here.

"Alisha… God. Alisha." She feels the words tumble out of the mouth in her head, the voice cracking in her skull in an agonizing way, threatening to pull her out. So familiar, so close. So history.

And his eyes flicks to hers. Her fingers stumble inside of herself. Unexpected. Stupidly so. The eyes she saw bore into her was not the one she had wrongly wanted to see. Too late anyhow. Stumbles, but gives one last thrust and shatters around herself.

It was her. Looking back up on herself. She came looking into her eyes. Odd. Creepy. The expression that she saw on her own face made her skin prickle uncomfortably and her skin to burn at the intrusion.

A mirror. A mirror of an emotion she didn't even know she was capable of.

Love.

She returns to herself, snapping back into her own mind easier then getting out; panting with climax and effort. Keeps her eyes firmly shut, fighting tears that she hadn't wanted to feel. Feeling a weakness that came unnaturally to her. Vulnerable wasn't in her vocabulary.

Wrong. She thought that she was ready for this. She was wrong. Can't even take joy in her accomplishment. Her heart aches deeply and she loathes the arousal sticking her fingers together as she pulls them out of herself. How could she taken pleasure in that? He loved her and he was gone. Would go again. Did he even love her properly yet? She had learned to love outside of herself and lost him before it began. Was left loving the idea.

Regret fights with guilt. Wants to go back to that moment and stay there, despite it all. She'd never felt so alone.

Not alone.

She opens her eyes.

The mask. She hates it. It turns her on. It's watching her. Tugging at parts of her that still throb and ache. Horribly, beautifully. Memories. He could be him. He is. Her boy underneath. Almost. Not quite. He stands in the door of the lift, statue-like. Taking her in. Naked on the sheets. Looks around. Looking for someone else? As if.

"Alisha?" His voice is muffled but it's enough to make her burst into tears. Makes no move to cover up or stem the crying. This is her now. This is what he's made her.

Forward he comes, hesitating at the foot of the bed.

"Were you…?"

Takes off the mask. Quickly diverts his eyes. But she wants him to look at her. Wants to really look into his eyes.

"Simon." It's a plea. Help her.

How?

Doesn't understand - awkward. Awkwardly sits on the bed, not close enough. Awkwardly reaches his hand across the gap. Awkwardly yanks it back.

"You can fuck me, but you can't even touch me?" She spits.

He's hurt. Hopeless. The look that he gives her. Clueless but trying so hard. Help me, is what it says. Tell me what to do.

Blood across his cheek. She sighs. Rubs her fingers up her body to rid them of the excess fluid, runs them directly under his cut; her hands moving seamlessly from her body to his. His eyes widen, smells her arousal so close to his face.

Runs her damp fingers slowly across his cheek to the corner of his lips. He still shivers under her touch. Maybe not such a shiver, more like a quake. Still so scared of her. So turned on by her.

Her eyes are too intense for him to look at. Looks away. Anywhere, everywhere - but her. On her. Gaze roams quickly down her body. Settles between her legs, inhales at the same time. Feels himself harden. So tight in the suit. The fucking suit. So hot. Too hot. Rocks his hips.

Remembers where he is looking. Snatches his eyes up - lands on hers. Challenging.

"Simon." She moans. Moves her fingers onto his lips. Open.

"We don't fuck." He stammers under her.

Maybe that's the problem. Wants to say it. Doesn't have the heart to.

"I know."

Thank you for reading.