"Stars in their place
Mirror your face
I need to find you
I need to seek my innervision
Innervision."
-System of a Down
The next morning Charles and Hank parked the car in front of the now so familiar coffee house. He had barely had time to get out of the car and into his wheelchair, as the front door opened, and a curvy blonde in waitress uniform stormed out.
- You! she shouted, and pointed a finger at Charles. Where is Alice? What have you done to her?
Charles' heart sunk, as he heard her words.
- Nothing, he stated grimly. So she isn't here either?
- No, I haven't heard from her since last saturday. She gave me a call after you took her home from the date, and that's the last I've heard from her. You sure, you're not hiding her somewhere, Professor? God, I can't believe I encouraged her to go out with you! I should've believed when she called you a-
- I promise, I have nothing to do with her disappearance, Leonore.
- And how am I supposed to believe that? She crossed her arms on her chest, and looked at him with anger and panic. In all these four years I've known her, she's never missed a single day of work. Not once! She's never even late, always on time. And right after you took her out, she is gone. Just like that, no explanation, nothing! Tell me it is a coincidence, if you want, but I'm not buying it.
- Leonore, just let me-
- Explain what you want, I am calling the police! And she turned in rage, to step back in, but just then she froze, mid step, one foot in the air, another in the pavement.
- Leonore, wait. Charles' voice was now a command, gentle but determinate.
He moved closer to her, to be able to look at her in the eye, as she was still frozen.
- I understand. I don't expect you to just believe me. Let me show you.
And he placed his fingers to his temple, picking a set of memories and sending them to Leonore's mind.
There was the first time he had ever seen Alice. His curiosity towards her, his desire to know her better. The way he had looked at her when she was working, admiring her beauty, the graceful way she placed items on a tray and carried it with perfect posture. There was the memory of him asking her out a dozen times, and the warm feeling that had pulsed in his bloodstream after she had finally said yes. And then there was the kiss. Oh, that kiss, that still burned Charles' lips like fire. The way she sighed, when he held her in his arms, the way her body responded to his touch.
And finally, the memories of this agonizing last couple of days. Him calling her again, and again, listening as no one picked up the phone. The nights he had stayed awake in the darkness, fearing for her, trying to contact her in every way he could think of.
It only took a couple of seconds to send the images to Leonore's mind, and when he was done, he let her go. She breath in rapidly, her legs were shaky and she sat down to the sidewalk, looking at Charles with disbelief.
- You are in love with her, she breath out.
- Yes, I believe I am, Charles answered.
- You are? said Hank, startled. And how come she knew that when I didn't? What did you show her?
Charles turned to look at Hank.
- Nothing of importance, just a set of memories.
- He showed me the kiss, Leonore noted. I could see it in my mind, like I was there when it happened… How did you…?
She looked at Charles quietly for a few seconds, and then gave a small laugh.
- You are one of those mutants, aren't you? Like a superhero. That's how you did it.
- I am a telepath, yes. But I am no hero.
- You could read my mind? Leonore asked, and looked him deep in the eye, but there was no fear, no judgement in her pretty, blue eyes, and he could sense none in her mind either.
- I could, but I try not to do that, if not necessary.
- And what he's superpower? she asked, nodding towards Hank. And who is he anyway, your bodyguard?
- No, not at all, Charles was embarrassed: there had been no time for introductions. This is my friend, Hank McCoy. Hank, this is Leonore-
- Leonore Havilland, she stated, getting on her feet. She shook Hank's hand, and Charles noticed that she eyed him with interest.
- So, Professor here can read minds, what can you do? Leonore asked Hank, a question that made him stagger and blush.
- Nothing really, not anything that would be of any interest…
- He is a genius, his brain is quite extraordinary, interrupted Charles, saving his friend. That's why we call him the Beast.
- The Beast, huh? Leonore gave Hank an appraising glance. I'd like to find out more about that.
Her remark left Hank speechless, which made Leonore give him a small smile with the corners of her full, red lips. Then she turned her attention back to Charles.
- And what ar you called then, Professor Brainy? The Incredible Brainiac? The Master of Minds?
- Please, I don't have a superhero name, 'cause I am not one.
- We call him Professor X, muttered Hank.
- Professor X? That's lame. I prefer the Incredible Brainiac.
- Actually, so do I. Perhaps we should change that, noted Hank, on a way that annoyed Charles more than it probably should have.
- Just call me Charles, please?
Leonore grimaced, but nodded.
- Alright, Charles. So you didn't kidnap Alice, but then what happened to her? Where is she?
- I don't know, he had to admit, and he felt his mood darkening again. I was hoping you could've helped me with that.
- And how on Earth am I going to help you? You are the Master of Minds, and your buddy is the Brainy Beast. Can't you just send Alice some mental signal or something? Don't you have a telepathic phone line or a dorky helmet that sends brain arrows?
- It's not like that, Leonore. And I have tried to contact her. She's not picking up her phone, not the ordinary nor the telepathic one.
She looked down to her feet, and then glanced backwards to check if she was needed in cafeteria, or perhaps she was just trying to pull herself together, for Charles could sense that she was feeling shaky.
- Then what are we to do? she asked after a few heartbeats of silence. What happened to her, Charles? She is my best friend, and I...
Leonore stopped mid sentence, her voice breaking off.
- I will go and check her place, Charles said. Can you give me the exact address?
- Yeah, sure. She wrote the address down on a piece of paper, and handed it to Charles. - And hey, I have a spare key to her apartment! She gave it to my for emergencies, and I just remembered it this morning. I was gonna go there today after work, but if you can go there already…?
- Yes, we'll go there right away. Thank you, Charles said as Leonore handed him the small key she had pulled from her pocket.
- You know, Professor Brainy, You'd better find her, Leonore gave him a stern look. You might not be the one who kidnapped her, but I still don't think this is a coincidence.
- What do you mean?
She shrugged.
- You took interest in her. She hated that, you know. It's not that she didn't like you. I think she did, at least I've never seen her looking anyone like that… But still, she wanted to be invisible, and she disliked being noticed. To tell you the truth, I think, perhaps she was hiding, and didn't want to be found.
- Hiding from whom? Charles asked, hardly able to keep his voice calm. Please, Leonore, tell me everything you know.
But she just shook her head and looked down.
- I really don't know. There was something in her past, something she didn't want to talk about. A bad romance maybe? I don't know… But I do know that she was afraid of something. Perhaps it's that something that found her now.
Charles didn't answer. He was thinking.
Something in her past, something she didn't want to talk about.
"I haven't touched anyone in ten years." she had said. "Someone got hurt"
There were no coincidences, there never were.
There had to be a connection, and he would find it, no matter how hidden it was, no matter how many stones he'd have to turn, how many minds to read. He would figure this out, and find Alice.
And he would bring her back home.
Just a few minutes later they parked the car in front of Alice's home.
Charles turned to look at Hank, who was driving, and reluctantly said,
- Hank, I need your help to get there.
- Which floor? he immediately understood.
- Fourth. And there is no lift.
- It's no problem. I'll take the chair first.
Charles waited in the car while Hank disappeared into the building, carrying his wheelchair.
He hated this.
How long would it take that he would get used to asking help? And how long would it take that he'd learn to accept that he was constantly held back by his injury?
He suspected, he'd never get used to this. To being disabled. Not a day passed, that he didn't miss walking. Just standing up, like any other person. Now that he couldn't, it seemed like the most amazing thing, a miracle that other people did, without even realizing that they were doing something extraordinary.
So, what was he worth now, after losing the gifts of 4 billion years of evolution?
Some days he hoped he had never stopped taking the mixture Hank had developed to help him, and today was one of those days. If he hadn't, he'd be up on the fourth floor already, and not waiting in the car like a child left behind.
Enough with the self pity, he heard Raven's voice in his mind.
She was right, she usually was. It wasn't like he was going to get his legs back dwelling on the past.
But still it seemed like forever, before Hank returned, and helped him out of the car.
He picked Charles up like he weighed no more than a child, and carried him up the stairs, onto the 4th floor.
- Thank you, friend, said Charles as Hank helped him to his chair.
- It's alright, you know I don't mind it.
Charles didn't answer.
He had turned his mind to the task ahead. He looked down the hallway, searching for the number 47, and found it on the other end of the corridor. It was a door, exactly like every other door he saw, a brown wooden door. No decorations, nothing to make it look different.
She didn't like to be noticed, Charles muttered to himself.
He pulled the key from his pocket, and slowly turned it on the lock. The door opened silently, and Hank pushed it so that they could enter the apartment.
The first thing Charles saw, were the roses.
They were scattered on the floor, already faded, their petals turning brown.
And then the books. Piles of books everywhere, but also on the floor, like they had been thrown there, open, upside down. A small table laid on the carpet, fallen.
- There's been a struggle, Hank said.
- Yes. Something bad happened here.
- Look at this, Charles.
Hank had kneeled to the floor and picked something up. Something small, with red feathers, and handed it to Charles. He took it, and recognized it immediately.
- A tranquilizer dart, he noted grimly. His heart fell, it felt like a cold stone was placed in his chest, and it made it hard to breath. Someone shoot her with this, to make her less dangerous.
- And then took her away.
- So it would seem.
They proceeded to kitchen, where days old coffee stood in the pot. Someone had turned off the coffee maker, though, Charles noticed. An empty porcelain mug with pictures of pink roses waited on the table.
Somehow that sight made Charles feel hopeless.
- She was making coffee, but never had time to drink it.
- When do you think this happened? asked Hank.
- It's now Tuesday… so probably Sunday morning, Charles stated. Leonore said, she tried to call Alice on sunday, and she didn't answer. And look, the bed is not made, so what ever happened, most likely happened right after she woke up.
They had moved to the bedroom, which was the only other room of the small apartment.
Charles let his observant gaze go around the room.
- This doesn't look like a typical young woman's flat, noted Hank.
- No, it doesn't. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?
The furniture was all antique and very expensive. The chest of drawers was probably hundreds of years old, as was the bed. There was also a big mirror, with a decorative frame, hanging on the wall, curtains were of thick, old fashioned fabric, with emroided flowers and birds. There were white chrysantemums on a crystal vase on the nightstand, their petals already falling, and some jewellery on an open box beside it.
- Real pearls. And diamonds, Charles said, picking some of them up.
- It seems' she's not short of money. Just by selling some of those, she could have supported herself for months.
- Sometimes it's hard to let go of the things that remind us from the past, Hank.
Charles moved closer to the drawer, and picked up a photo frame with a photograph of a two young girls sitting on a bench, laughing. They both had dark curly hair, green eyes, and a carefree smile.
- That's Alice, Charles said.
A painful longing made his heart ache.
- But who is the other girl? Her sister?
- Most likely. Perhaps a twin? They look the same age.
- You don't know anything about her family, do you?
- Not a thing. We didn't really talk about that.
- The what did you talk about?
Charles made a long sigh, remembering their conversation.
- About books, mostly.
- She sure reads a lot for a waitress, noted Hank, eyeing the piles of books that stood in every table and on the floor too.
- Yes she does. But look at this place, it's obvious that being a waitress is just a cover story. I should probably have a chat with Leonore later on, Charles said, she might know more than I do.
He put the photo of two girls back to it's place on the drawer, and noticed another one. That was of Alice too, also an old photo, taken at least ten years ago, showing her as a young girl, perhaps age 15, riding a beautiful horse. Alice's posture was tall and proud, and the wind blew her hair.
Charles kept looking at the pictures silently for a while, but finally turned to face Hank who had been observing the rest of the room.
- I don't think there's anything more we can learn from here, Charles said.
- Should we talk to the neighbors? To see if they've heard something.
- I was just thinking about that myself, Charles turned to leave, with a last look of Alice's room.
There was the odor of chrysanthemums and roses, but he could sense Alice's scent as well. He remembered all too well how she had leaned closer to him in the car, her breath on his lips, and the memory cut through his heart like a knife. The blanket of her bed hung partly on the floor and on the pillow you could stilll see where she had laid her head.
There were pink slippers on the floor, and a pile of clothes on a chair near the bed. Charles recognized the dress she had wore to their date. The dress he had begun to undress, revealing her beautiful shoulders and collarbones to his touch. He remembered the texture of her soft skin, the way she had breathed in sharply as he had glided his fingers downwards.
He forced himself to look away and left the room in agony.
Blood red snowflakes were falling on top of her, on her face, and everywhere around her.
Alice blinked a few times.
Why was the snow red? Or were they snowflakes at all, for they smelled like roses.
She felt drowsy, her head was heavy, her eyelids weighed a ton. It was like a bad hangover. Had she been drinking? She couldn't remember.
Roses.
Roses sting. There was a memory of sharp pain that came with the scent of flowers.
And then she remembered another time, another blood red snow, a million years ago, and she forced her eyes open.
There was no snow, no roses. There was only a plain, concrete room, and she was laying on the freezing floor.
- Well, hello, said a familiar female voice.
A voice she knew too well, and just hearing it again was enough to turn her insides out. The metallic taste of fear and shame settled in her mouth.
- You did a good job hiding, like all rats do, Alexandra. But I knew I'd find you in the end. I told you I would. Do you remember?
- Yes, she whispered.
- That's a good little rat. And this time you are not getting away. This time you'll pay for what you did.
And every cell of Alice's body knew she meant what she said.
