Why Me
Chapter 007
Authoress's note:
Once again, a big thank you goes out to my wonderful beta-reader who puts up with my common incorrect commas, speech deciphers, and everything else. Who is she you ask? Why the beyond measure: ZeldaAddict42! I forget to mention her from time to time, but I do appreciate her time and talent so much. She has made Kerry a better story due to her patience and wonderful kindness. : D Thank you ZeldaAddict42!
To the lovely readers: I tried to go as fast as I could while making it as interesting as I could. I don't think it's been three months...so I hope this'll make y'all smile! :D
You know how some questions don't really have answers? Or at least not just one answer that was simple and summed up in one, universally accepted sentence?
Things like, "why we are here?"
Or "why do people die?"
Those were questions that have had people in heated debates and wars for centuries.
Then there were those rhetorical questions that you didn't really ever mean to get solid answers to.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Do I look that stupid to you?"
Those questions were just brushed off without going into any great depths unless the answerer wants to get into some sort of fight.
Then there were questions that you really didn't want answered, so you never ask them. You just allowed your morbid curiosity to feed ideas to your vivid, darkly-colored imagination and see what mini-horror movies it could concoct.
Of course, then there was information you'd rather just stick a sharpened pencil into your ear drums than to ever hear. These types of unwarranted answers were usually tossed out by someone who was either cruel, naïve, or just suicidal.
My question was, I thought, not so terrible. It was a simple rhetorical question that I never expected anyone to take seriously or even think too much on.
Oh no, leave it to the X-Men to sit down and ponder things like that.
Two very simple and basic words of the English language that have been tossed together since—well, since probably the beginning of the English language: why me.
That's it— that's all I had asked for months. It wasn't asked out loud, but it was one that seemed to radiate offa me like heat from a running motor.
Those who sought the answers, I could only fathom, decided that my pitiable little question needed to be investigated after I made the team.
I earned my spot to train; it wasn't handed to me this time. With my interest in this came an interest in my recent past, dealing with the Redeemers.
Ignoring the pokes from the medical club living in the basement and the constant questions from those who were in charge, I decided I needed to create a routine I could control. So, like clockwork, I would get up early to train with Mr. Logan, then go to team training, shower, and cook. It was a snug schedule that I was enjoying. It got me, mainly, away from Emma and Scott some days.
The trouble all really started when I answered a call from Chris.
I choked on my orange slice and it burned as it flipped around in my throat. Coughing as tears came to my eyes, I had to suck in a few harsh breaths before I was finally able to manage a, "What!"
"You heard me," Chris stated simply. "There have been robberies. I was doing some updating to their systems and I found missing files. Then the office chief had to explain it to his boss, who I told about the missing files. Apparently, some of the—deposits have gone missing, and someone is trying to cover it up."
"Let me put you through to Sco—"
"Can't, gotta go, you tell them."
"What! No! Chri—"
"Bye, Ker," he nearly sung; then there was a click and the dial tone.
I sat back in my chair, the rest of the orange forgotten on the desk and my mouth hanging open slightly in shock. The phone was still pressed against my ear as confusion and embarrassment danced around together.
He—I-no!
There was just no way I could talk about what he told me about with others and live. I would die of embarrassment!
I wanted to be an X, so I need to tell them, some part of me chided.
If I was too embarrassed about this, then what already happened was going to happen again. I took a deep breath, buzzed Scott and Emma that I needed to speak to them, and then stood up from my chair.
I felt the blush creep up my face and then get hotter. I did the only thing I could do before I entered—I made my skin go black. I was as black as ink so the red that was on my cheeks wouldn't show up. I just kept my eyes as opened as I needed to in order not to run into a wall. Even though I knew sunlight hurt my eyes in black form, I still decided to push through it.
At least I hoped.
"Is there anything wrong?" Dad asked, cocking his head to the side. "Why have you gone black?" He was leaning/sitting on Emma's desk with a paper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
Emma was seated behind the desk with just a cup of coffee in her hands.
Slacker, I thought half-heartedly.
"Well," I said and then cleared my throat, "Chris called with news that might be of interest."
"Don't leave us in suspense," Emma commented dryly.
I cleared my throat and due to the embarrassment, fought back the urge to cry or start laughing.
"There seems to have been a series of –robberies." I kept darting my eyes between the two of them, for once cursing the fact that Emma couldn't read my mind. "From some—special banks."
Dad tipped his head to the side. "What does that have to do with us?"
"Because they are, apparently, stealing only from mutants." If my hair could blush, it would have. "Male mutants," I mumbled as an afterthought.
He put his coffee cup and papers down and crossed his arms over his chest. "How does Chris know that it's just male mutants?"
I bit my lip, trying desperately to think of a song and dance that would get the message across without me actually having to spell it out.
"Uhm, because in this bank only males make—deposits." I started to rub the back of my neck nervously. "And only females can make withdrawals."
They both gave me a blank stare (I was assuming on Scott's part).
Pinching my eyes shut, I suppressed the urge to scream in frustration and shout out the nasty, painful things I intended to do to Chris for putting me in this situation.
I opened my eyes again and prepared myself to continue.
"Well, h-he was working on the bank's computers, and he saw that some of the files were missing. The only thing they had in common, besides using the bank and being male, was that they tested positive for the X-gene."
"Why would a bank need to test for the X-gene?" Emma questioned. "What kind of account prerequisites would require DNA?"
I face-palmed, dragged my hand down my face, and then licked my suddenly dry lips.
"This bank is all about what's in the DNA and other bodily—fluids."
The two exchanged looks and Emma gave a shrug. I was praying it would get across what I was saying, but no lightbulb lit up over their heads.
"What is the name of the bank?"
"The," I muttered the next word, "Bank of the West Coast, San Francisco branch."
"The Bank of the West Coast?" Emma raised her eyebrows. "I have never heard of such an establishment."
"Weeelll, that's probably because you never sought out their—specialized services." I sincerely doubted that she had any problem getting, uhm, the 'deposits' for free from very willing donors.
Emma put a finger to her one of her temples, her elbow on the edge of the desk, and leaned on it.
"Would you mind translating your cryptic drivel for those who do not have the time to decipher it?"
I rolled my eyes and huffed.
Taking in a breath, I then collected the words I needed for the explanation and spat them out as fast as possible.
"Chris said they are having robberies from the Sperm Bank of the West Coast, San Francisco branch. He knows this because he had to service their computers and found missing files. They had all been flagged because they were tested for various things, including the X-gene, and they were found positive. They weren't destroyed, they just went missing."
That little monologue would have been plenty to get a grasp on the situation. Did I stop? Nope. My nerves and embarrassment went into vocal hyper drive (aka rambling).
"And if you think about it, it's kinda weird—and ick. Chris said he was sure because he goes there at least once a month. I don't know if it's for the computers or to be a donor—can you imagine –ugh, no, no I don't want to, but anyway, if it wasn't the computers, then he'd be a donor—"
"Kookie."
"—and I don't want to think of the poor woman or women who would have to live with Chris' mini-mes. I mean, he isn't horrid looking, but that would be just way weird. What if they grew up and dated? Do they think about things like that or not? Is it a crime if the incest is accidental? And the inbreeding—!"
"Kerry."
"—I think I could honestly say that Chris would be the reason for stupidity taking over the—well, the entire west coast! All because he had too much times on his hands, wait no, don't want to think—gross! I just did and I can't believe he'd actually—"
"Kerry!"
I snapped my mouth shut and looked over at Dad, who looked amused and mortified at the same time. Emma looked like I just put a run in her nylons. I wanted to disappear.
"W-what?" I blinked at them like I had just broken free from a trance.
"Call Chris; tell him to come here at once." Emma was inspecting her nails in a bored manner before she gave me a level stare. "Can you manage that?"
"Yes?"
"Then go." I glanced over at Dad; he had his head turned, but I could tell his shoulders were shaking.
Great, at least I made the man laugh.
A few days later, I walked into Cerebra, where the three creepy Emma-teenage-clone girls, Cyclops, and Miss Rogue were waiting at the end of the platform. I slowed down; my creep-o-meter was dinging on high. As quickly as I could, I did a mental check of everything I had done in the past few weeks.
"Look, if this is about putting lemon juice in your milk—"
One of the blondes narrowed her glowing eyes. "No."
"This is to test a theory," Scott stated. "Cerebro and Cerebra couldn't pick up on your mutant signature; the Professor has also said that Danger is incapable of locating you. This is a substantial problem in the field— as we have encountered."
I gave him a flat stare. "Yeah, you might say that."
"Long story short, we need a way to track you if you are ever going to be of any real use to Summers' team. Or so he says," came a none-too-happy voice from behind me. I turned to see Sir Crankus (Dr. Nemesis or Genesis or whatever the heck he dubbed himself. He's the grumpy grandpa in white.) walking up to and passed me.
Scott gave Nemesis his own pink sunglasses version of a nasty look and then turned back to me.
"Why not just tag me like they do cows?" I was nervous, and sarcasm was my go-to for defense. Unfortunately, my tongue was more like a butter knife than a sword to Dad.
"I suggested that but he insists that if you were caught, it'd be taken off of you."
I balked and stared disbelievingly at Dad. "You actually considered that!"
Miss Rogue snickered, and Dad did his best to get this little appointment back on track.
"We need to be able to find you," he repeated. "I can't, in good conscience, let you go back out to the field without some way of finding you."
I looked from him, to the others, and back to him, waiting for some other explanation to come.
Miss Rogue took the cue and straightened up as she walked to me. "Basically, we are going to try dampening your powers to see if you'll register on Cerebra."
"Dampening?" I didn't like the sound of that, taking a step back before telling myself to hold my ground.
"Yes," creepy blonde girl number one stated. "With your power levels lowered, we might be able to locate you."
I started to scratch at my arm nervously. "And how would you do that?"
"Ah'll absorb some of your powers, then we'll see if the Cuckoos can sense you."
Ooooohhh, nooooo.
I started to back up once again from the green clad woman.
"Uhm, I—I think I'd rather the tag over that. And I was 'dampened'. For nine months and no one found me."
"This isn't an option Kerry; we tried tagging you before and it was removed."
Nice way to skip over the last half of my statement there leader man.
My eyebrows kissed in the middle of my forehead as I tried to recall when they might have done that. Sure, I passed out a lot back in Westchester, but I didn't remember having something on me that wasn't there before when I woke up.
Except that one time when I woke up with wings but I really didn't think Dad had anything to do with that.
I sure as heck didn't remember having anything removed from me when I was with the crazies in the complex.
"When?" I questioned, finally giving up on trying to figure it out for myself.
"You used to wear a necklace that had a specially made pendant on it," Scott explained, and my heart and face fell.
The necklace Bobby had given me with my Grandfather's pilot's wings on it. He told me that the small blue-green gem was something special; I guess I didn't question him enough. Next time I get a piece of jewelry, I was so asking if it was actually a small computer chip or whatever.
Miss Rogue moved closer to me and held out her hand. Putting away the whole Bobby-necklace issue, I studied her hand like it was supposed to do a trick.
"You can trust me, sugah."
"But don't you, like, suck out memories and things?" To say I felt uneasy was like saying Disney was famous for its rap music.
"Not if you keep your mind blank," she reassured.
I could just hear someone dying to make a comment about how easy that should be but instead, I heard silence.
Flicking my gaze over to Scott, who had his fists planted on either side of his hips, I swallowed hard. This was what I wanted— to be part of the team. This was another test to see if I would take it on or if I'd run away. Personally, I wasn't too fond of jumping through these microscopic flaming hoops to just show someone I was serious.
Biting my lip, I reached out and gently touched her hand.
It felt totally weird! Like when you've lain on your arm too long and your arm fell asleep, but the tingling seemed to seep from my fingertips and, I guess, into her.
She pulled away and I felt my stomach complete a rather impressive acrobatic maneuver as I stumbled backward a few feet. Scott was suddenly beside me, to help keep me upright. I could feel the difference. I felt almost, well, not naked but indecently exposed (kinda how Emma might feel in her bikini had she any modesty to speak of).
"Insterestin'," Miss Rogue commented, holding up her hand and watching it shift and fade to black and then back to tan.
"Girls?" Dad looked back at the creepy chicks after making sure I wasn't going to do a less than elegant swan dive off the platform-catwalk that led from the door to the center of the room.
"One moment, Mr. Summers," one of them said, and then like a string of Christmas lights, their eyes started to glow a brighter white.
Disturbed by them, I looked back at Miss Rogue and she made her fingernails twist into claws.
"Having fun?" I deadpanned.
"It's always amusin' to see what others have to play with and what they might be hidin'." She winked at me.
"Can I go now? I think I need to lie down—or bury my head in a carton of ice cream." I had a hand to my forehead, wondering why I felt a flu-like headache coat my brain.
Dad probably didn't think I noticed the quick shrug from Nemesis when he looked over at him. Whatever the shrug answered, it didn't make Cyclops happy, as he scowled and looked the other direction.
Odd.
"We can't sense her, Miss Rogue with her power is faded, but still present" the middle blonde girl said, (they want me to get their names right, they'd have to wear friggin' nametags!), "but we can sense her thoughts now."
That's comforting, I thought groggily.
What came next was started the sheer and utter chaos and confusion that only the X-Men can create.
"Get Miss Frost," the three girls chorused together, glaring at me. "Kookie's been compromised."
I was so mad, I couldn't even think of a better, gorier way of saying I was mad.
When they said 'compromised', I thought, foolishly, that they meant something else. Thankfully, I didn't scream out that I wasn't compromised and that I was still a virgin, thankyouverymuch.
Come to think of it, that would have been less humiliating than what did happen.
After I was ratted out, for reasons I didn't understand, Emma basically shut me down mentally in ten seconds. She didn't even have the decency to warn me before she took over my mind.
Necessary, would be the word she hid behind when, two days later, I was freed from the brig. That's right, they threw me into their version of a mutant prison; a place where people who they deemed trouble were kept and the technology turned their powers completely off.
I had to stay depowered for Emma to be able to do what was 'necessary'.
It was only after I was in the brig that Emma let me have me back. I didn't have any conscious memory of where I was or how I ended up there, but there was one thing I perceived right away.
They locked me up.
I was in a cage again. It didn't matter that it was situated much like a regular bedroom with a bed, nightstand, and cornered off bathroom area, it was a cage.
Powers or no powers, I lost my temper.
Totally, utterly, and with no shame, I cursed at the top of my lungs, smashed my fists into the wall until the skin of my knuckles split; kicked at the plate glass that made up one of the walls, and threw everything I could lift with my human strength at the glass until I wore myself out.
I was furious but on the verge of tears as well.
Emma, Cyclops, and a handful of others tried to tell me why they felt it 'necessary' to lock me back up like an animal, but I didn't listen. I would glare at them, eyes burning and my angered heart thumping in my throat.
Being totally depleted of strength, both mentally and physically, I picked up the allotted pillow and blanket from where I had thrown them and went into the bathroom area. It was only a wall providing modesty from all the eyes on the outside, but it was better than nothing.
Curling up in the shower stall with the pillow under my head and the blanket over my body and face, I trembled with my rage and disgust. After a while, all that was left was the hot prickling hatred, and as the tears started to fall, humiliation grew firmly in my chest.
How could they do this to me? Didn't they realize this was what I was still having issues with? I wasn't an animal! I didn't deserve this! I wasn't the bad guy, I was the victim. I was the survivor, and yet I was being punished for the things that happened to me!
Even if I had my hair and my own clothes, they still striped me bare. They took my freedom and they had taken my powers.
I was exposed to any psychic who wanted to wander around my brain. I hoped that I could use a thought up mace upside their heads and inflict a bit of pain on them.
My crying dissolved into hiccups, and then I faded away into an exhausted, though shallow, sleep.
What woke me up was someone calling my name and a hand on my shoulder, gently shaking me.
My eyes were raw and grainy feeling from crying, but I managed to pry them open and slowly let my vision clear to see Bobby crouched down next to me with a worried expression on his face.
"Bobby?" I croaked, sitting up until I was resting on one of my elbows. "What time is it?"
"About seven-thirty at night." He gave me a small smile. "You've been asleep for about four hours or at least that's when you came back here."
I nodded and finished pulling myself into a sitting position, not bothering to take off the blanket as I drew my bent legs to my chest. Crossing my arms, I laid them on top of my knees and my head on top of my arms.
"When do I get out?"
Something flickered across Bobby's face before his smile returned. "I don't know."
My anger was starting to be rekindled. I tightened my jaw and cursed in my thoughts as my eyes started to tear up again.
"Why?" I managed; it was in a tight voice, and Bobby dropped down beside me.
"The Three-in-One sensed someone else in your mind, and that's when they raised the red flag. Emma then said she had to do something about it, so she—well, I guess you can say she kicked you out of the driver's seat for a few hours."
I felt heat color my cheeks. I just hoped she didn't make me do anything weird while I couldn't remember.
"Someone else?" I parroted weakly, not even looking at him, but straight ahead at the plain white wall.
"Yeah," he answered slowly. "They haven't tracked the location, but from what Frosty could tell, whoever it is, or was, wormed their way into your mind and has just been—there."
"Mmm," I replied. "Is the thing gone?"
"Nope." Okay, he could have answered that a little bit slower. "While you were out, Emma locked him up in there." He tapped the side of my head with his knuckles. "She said it's only temporary, until you are cooperative enough to let her do what is necessary."
See what I mean? That 'n' word kept sneaking into this situation.
Another person in my mind? How was there even room?
I couldn't help but let my mouth twitch at the understanding of why they would shove me in this—place. If there was someone in my head, then the last thing they wanted was me going around and exposing all the little secrets about training and stuff.
If it wasn't for the fact that I was exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally, I probably would have started to freak out all over again. Sadly at this point, I was like 'whatever' about the whole thing because there wasn't anything I could do.
Sighing, my gears started to turn in another direction as my eyebrows came together in confusion.
"How do you know all this?" For one bitter heartbeat, I thought that Cyclops and Emma might be using Bobby as a diplomat to get what they wanted without a piece of furniture being thrown at them.
He chuckled lightly. "When I found out what had happened after I got back from L.A., I came down here, but I didn't feel like risking your wrath." Bobby nodded toward the mess I made in my fit of rage. "You didn't seem like you wanted to listen to anyone so much as to rip them apart."
I grunted. "I was doing what any accosted individual would do."
"I think you said some words even Logan didn't know." Bobby nudged me with his shoulder and gave a playful grin.
"Heh, well…" I cleared my throat in a bit of embarrassment. "That still doesn't explain how you know all that stuff."
"I wanted to know, so I asked. It took some arguing on my part but they finally coughed up what was going on. I don't think they were too flattered with your outlook on their relationship or Emma's medical history."
Glancing away, I did my best to look innocent. I didn't remember everything I said, but I was rattling (screaming) off any and all things that came to my mind. I did remember the words liposuction and tawdry slipping out a few times.
Bobby was kind enough to hang around for a few hours, bandage up my hands and bring me dinner (lunch?). I didn't know exactly how long he stayed but I was already asleep when he left.
The next morning, which I could only guess it was morning because my cage didn't have a window to the outside or a clock, Emma decided to come around.
/Are you ready to be a rational little girl or do I have to leave you in time-out for another day?/
I glared at the wall I had been staring at, gnashed my teeth together (which were really really itchy), and decided, with a wicked grin, to send a mental image of a hand flipping her off.
There was a silence which could probably translate into something like '…'.
Huffing, I sighed and sent back a reluctant, 'fine'. I knew I had to be a 'rational little girl' because I wanted to be out of this place.
I refused to leave my little cave of comfort (formerly known as the bathroom area), and just closed my eyes with a heavy sigh.
/How does this even work?/ I questioned, hoping I was doing this telepathy thing right.
/You seem to be a more hands-on learner, so-/
Just like that, a single thought and I was a stranger in the physical world. She had, again, forced me out of the pilot's seat of my own brain and body! Didn't even ask! Just took over the controls…or at least I thought she did.
"You don't have to hide back there." Emma's voice came through the small intercom they had built into the room. I watched, transfixed, as my body responded to the command of—of someone else. It was like watching a home movie in 3D.
I wasn't in my body, but kinda 'ghosting' outside of it.
/It's called the Astral Plane, darling./
/The what?/
/Quiet, the grown-ups are talking./
"Who are you?" I blinked. Well, my body blinked at the question as it approached the glass wall.
Ugh, it was so weird!
"I—I am, or was, Justin Laron." It was partly my voice, but made to be deeper and with a rough edge to it. It sounded almost like I had a sore throat. "I am a prisoner. I'm sorry; I never wanted to do this to her."
Though I guess I was just a thought-person, I felt a shiver run through me.
"Where are you from? What do you want with the girl? How did you get into her mind?" Emma didn't seem fazed by Justin's confession as she continued.
I, I mean he, looked nervous.
"I-I'm from Indiana; I used to work at a café as a cook, ever since I was 16," he started, and my heart was in my 'astral plane' throat. "I had worked there for fifteen years before I was collected."
I was stunned. Was he the reason I suddenly was able to cook so well?
"By whom?"
"Them, the Redeemers. They wanted me for her." He pointed a finger at my face. "They knew when to act because she knew when to act."
"The girl knew when to act?"
"No, no, Fortune. Fortune knew." He might have whispered, but the acid dripping off the name was evident.
The rest of the interview was just wonderful.
I couldn't do anything but listen in rapt horror as he fumbled over words trying to explain things. He said he was fearful because he knew they'd find out that he'd been discovered. Emma was able to lock onto his energy signature, so a team could be sent out to tear the place down while attempting a rescue.
She assured him that Cyclops was prepping an X-Jet and loading a team to go to where she pinpointed him to be.
He apologized to me again and again as he told me the DVDs I had burned of the newer students' Danger Room exercises were actually his doing under an order from Fortune. He was able to get me to operate under his manipulation because he had been with me ever since my 'death' in Westchester.
Fortune knew when I would be at my weakest, meaning when I was dying, and also that Jean would be temporarily out of commission at the same time. When those two facts lined up, Justin was forced into my mind, settling so deep in it that Jean couldn't perceive a change and I didn't know any difference.
Emma's eyebrows rose at the mention of the DVDs. Thought-person me had to explain I used them to study the students to know how to win against them. Then Justin added that they were in the hands of the Redeemers now, having been mailed to them a few weeks ago.
My stomach dropped like lead.
Everything I wrote about my memories after I was captured, too, was slipped into the mail that went out daily from the complex and was given over to the psychos. When Fortune found out through Justin what I had written down, she made sure the X-Men couldn't use the information.
Just as he was going into another answer about why they wanted me and such, his (my) eyes enlarged as he grabbed either side of his (again, my) head and screamed like he was probed with a red-hot poker.
Before my body could slump to the floor I was thrown back into the pilot's seat, but there was no way to recover yourself when put in charge of an airplane that was already in a nose dive. I screamed as what felt like searing hot knives slice into my brain.
It was like someone was performing a lobotomy without any anesthesia.
Then flashes of images came into my mind; it was like trying to read a picture book with a strobe light in a dark room. Things I didn't know filled my head. There were faces of people who felt familiar to me but were actually complete strangers. Facts of a life I never lived and the emotions attached to it were swirled around my cranium.
The last barrage of brain damage was of a place I did recognize.
It was memories of the complex where I was held and everything he endured.
A white ceiling held up by steel walls surrounded him as he was dragged down the hall. The cold shock he felt as skin touched the metal gurney, the fear and panic as they strapped him down, and the screams as they—
—my eyes snapped open, and I gasped for air.
Reality gave me a hard slap on the back as I jerked to a sitting position, Bobby on one side and Dr. Hank instructing me to take it easy on the other. My skin was cold with the sweat that was beaded on it, and I felt like I had just been on every rollercoaster in the western hemisphere.
My memories were chopped, diced, and then pureed with Justin's memories and emotions. Things I was sure I never knew before were waiting at the far edge of my thoughts, ready to be there if I should need them. Thankfully, the more, uhm, personal moments were not so easily accessed. He must have blocked me out or—
"What happened?" My voice sounded hoarse as I sought out Emma's impassive face. "Where's Justin?"
Emma cocked an eyebrow slightly and in a bored tone answered, "He was rendered unconscious while he was in you."
With Bobby's help, I managed to struggle to my feet and rest against a wall for support.
I cleared my throat, trying to get the roughness to disappear, but it didn't seem to want to vacate.
"Is he dead?"
Emma stated, rather coldly, that they think they found what was left of Justin.
A part of me just froze over on the inside. There was a strong sense of disbelief and denial, and I had to force back the bile that was rising in my already hurt esophagus.
After the jet lag from mind flying in and out of my body, I wondered how the heck Spirit (Hope, a newer student who had the ability to ghost out of her body) did that on a daily basis.
Then shock from everything that had happened in the past 24 or so hours decided to take the stage, only to have an encore of pure rage.
So, that's why I was mad, sitting on the highest point of the roof (which was nearly ten stories off the ground) with my legs swinging over the side while shoving gooey Hershey's Kisses into my mouth. I had been up there for hours.
I didn't know how to deal with everything that Justin had confessed. There were so many questions he had answered. With those answers, I just wanted to kick, swear, and basically cause mayhem (again). Yes, I wanted the answers but I never thought they'd be so—I never even considered that they were destroying other people's lives to mess with me.
Justin was just one, who knew how many others they were playing with in order to get what they wanted. If they wanted me, why'd they let me go? Why couldn't they just screw with my head and my life and leave everyone else out of it.
Growling, I clenched my hand into a fist, forgetting I was already holding melted Kisses. I groaned when I had chocolate goop dripping from between my fingers and on either side of my hand.
Great.
"If I come up there, are you going to throw me off?" I nearly fell off the building at the voice so close behind me.
Turning around, where Bobby was standing a good ten feet behind me holding a plastic shopping bag on one arm and a pizza box in the other hand.
"Depends. What's on it?" I gestured to the box he was holding and he grinned in response.
"Extra cheese, pineapple, spinach, and, oh yes, M & Ms." He drew closer, set the box down, and then settled himself down next to me. "Did I remember everything?"
"Yup!" I grabbed the box and flipped the lid open. "Do you have napkins or-hey! Only half of it has the good stuff on it."
"Sorry, babe." He reached across and plucked one of the normal pieces out of the box. "Not all of us eat like a pregnant woman. I don't see why you even like that junk." He handed me a wad of napkins, and I wiped the chocolate and foil off my hand.
"It's not junk," I defended, tossing the used napkins over the side of the building, then taking a slice out and starting to munch on it. Swallowing, I gave him a blissful smile. "It is the best discovery I ever made by mistake."
"Uh-huh." Bobby rolled his eyes.
We sat there for a few minutes in complete silence. From the bag he had, he fished out two bottles of soda and handed me one.
Once the pizza feeding frenzy ebbed, I leaned back and sighed.
"Feeling better?"
I snorted at the question.
"Not really." I felt the anger starting to stand on the edge of my mind again. "I can't believe I was so stupid. I shoulda known there was a catch to them letting me go. The lead psychopath is a future-seeing mutant; of course she woulda known!"
"But how could you have?" Bobby volleyed back to me. "Jean didn't even know you were 'compromised', and she was the strongest telepath on the planet. Emma didn't know, and believe me; her high-and-mightiness took it personally that she couldn't pick up on a lesser telepath."
For some reason, hearing about Emma's inferiority complex made me smile.
"So, what's still bothering you?" he prodded.
"You mean besides being imprisoned by my own 'family'?" I questioned, using air quotes.
"Yeah, besides that."
"And that I've had a mental termite in my head, which is now dead because he was fumigated?"
"…Yes, other than that."
I thought about it again and then asked, "And that I was giving away secrets that I shouldn't have even been able to access in the first place to a group of religious mutant eating cannibals?"
"Ah, so that's it." Bobby poked my stomach. "You are freaking over that."
I sat up like a shot, "Yes, I'm freaking angry about that!" I nearly shouted. It wasn't Justin, he was just another victim, it was the situation.
"I all but sold everyone out! I thought being underhanded to learn about the new additions was actually a smart thing, but in the end it could hurt them." I ran my fingers into my bangs and grabbed them tightly, pulling hard enough to hurt but not rip them out. "What if I cause someone to get hurt or to die? And all because I was—I was—"
What was I trying to do? I was trying to get on the team.
A thick coating of sickness covered my stomach as I fought down my rage. I could impair the team. I could do exactly what I didn't want to do!
"You were trying to do what you thought was best," Bobby answered in a soothing voice.
I let go of my hair and draped both arms over my eyes while I bit my lower lip to prevent myself from crying or screaming, I wasn't sure which.
There was a slightly amused noise that came from Bobby; it was somewhat out of place, considering I was in the middle of a miniature meltdown. Lifting my arms, I studied what I could see of him from my laying position.
"What?"
"Just thinking." He shrugged, taking another sip from his soda. "You've—really grown up."
I propped myself up on my elbows, and with an eyebrow raised and my head cocked to the side, I asked what he meant.
"Back in Westchester, if something like this had happened, you'd have been focused on other things. Like," he cleared his throat and then started to speak in a higher pitch while clasping his hands together in a bad attempt to be me. "Eeek! Some guy's been in my head and probably knows all my secrets or worse—he's seen me naaahh-kid! What'll I do! Oh no!"
I hefted myself up to a sitting position quickly and punched him playfully in his arm. "I do not sound like that!"
"No," Bobby agreed with a soft smile, "you don't. Not now, but you used to. You've really matured since New York."
I blinked in surprise as my mind went slack-jawed in my skull. Slowly, my heart recited those words over and even swooned over the look of—of adoration he was giving me while he had been saying all of that.
I gave a shy smile and shrugged for lack of anything else to really say.
He made that noise again and ran a hand through his hair as he turned away from me. I couldn't get the delighted expression offa my face as I suddenly found my hands the most interesting things in the world.
An hour later, we were still on the roof, but the feathery hearts and sweet expressions turned into something purely physical coupled with random shouted exclamations.
"No!" I screamed, and Bobby grinned.
I had scissors, he played rock.
"Finally, I thought this game was rigged."
I rolled my eyes.
"What is the song you hate and always seems to stay in your head?"
"You just want to know so you can annoy me by singing it, don'tcha?" I teased.
"Me? Nooooo." He tried to look innocent, but the grin made it a futile attempt.
"Whatever," I muttered, thought about it for a few seconds, and snapped my fingers when the answer came to me. "It's a Small World; the one that Disney always has playing? Ugh! It is so obnoxious and it just keeps playing that one line over and over again when it gets lodged in your head."
I glanced over at him. He blinked, and then narrowed his eyes. "It's a classic."
"It's a cancer."
"Hater. You just don't know what good music is; you listen to that DASH or whatever." He snorted in contempt. "Makes me wonder what song you actually like, if you can't respect the classics."
"First of all, it's DAS. Second, if you wanna know you have to win the next round." I held out my fist and tipped my nose up slightly.
My paper lost to his scissors.
Curses.
"Okay, now for something less platonic." My brain set off the 'oh-crap' alarm.
"What about the song thing?"
"Later," he said dismissively. "Oh, I know a good one." Bobby locked eyes with me, and I couldn't help but notice the playful light in his eyes was dimmed by seriousness. "Why did you T-bone me in the store with that question?"
"Huh?" I tipped my head to the side slightly. "What are question?"
"'What are we?'"
I gaped. I didn't know exactly what to say, and in all honesty, I was not expecting that to ever come up again! Then it dawned on me he pulled a fast one. He lulled me into the game, making me think it would be only simple questions, then steamrolled me with this—just as I had done to him by asking it out of nowhere.
I tore my eyes away from his stare and found the tips of my shoes and the ground far below very interesting. A blush crept up my neck and colored my face bright red.
"Only honest answers," Bobby softly reminded me. It was one of the rules to the 'game'—one question from the winner to the loser, who had to give an honest and complete answer.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and felt my brain start to slowly pound away at the keyboard to formulate some response.
"Because—," I started hesitantly, "because I wanted to know what to—what you thought I was to—what we are to…each other." I scratched my forearm nervously and felt my blush start to blush.
He was silent for a long time (okay, it could have been thirty seconds, but when you just put yourself out on a limb, you want to hear something, and hopefully not the sound of that limb snapping). I kept my eyes tailored to the ground below us.
Say something, I pleaded internally. Laugh, snort, make a bad joke, just stop being so quiet.
"What do you want us to be?" His voice had a delicious husky edge to it.
I cleared my throat from the beef jerky that had once been my mind and forced a grin.
"Nice try, freezer burn, but no freebies."
He held out a fist and we played again.
I won. He grunted and waited, probably thinking I was going to ask him a similar question to what he asked me.
I mulled over it for a few seconds. I could be sneaky and do what he was expecting, but it just didn't seem right or original to do so. I could have steered these questions down a depressing and lonely road that would leave awkwardness between us. Just the idea of losing the lightheartedness of this conversation and time twisted my heart. I frowned and made my decision.
"I am going to save this question to use at a later date." I nodded to myself after stating my intent.
"You can't do that!" Bobby squeaked. "That's against the rules!"
"It's not in the rules, is it?"
At first there was silence, but then he made a noise in the back of his throat that was akin to a strangled acceptance.
"But no more of that," Bobby muttered, holding out a fist again.
"No more of that," I agreed with a smirk.
Next round, he won, and I waited for him to ask his question like I didn't already know what it was.
"What is it, oh conniving Kookie, that you want?"
I felt the breath leave my lungs and along with it one word to answer his question.
"You."
"What?" Bobby questioned quietly.
"I want you," I repeated, casting him a short look and an unsure smile before I lost my courage and found something else to stare at. "As friend, boyfriend, or whatever—I just know I want you in my life."
Surprisingly, I didn't blush, but I felt my fingertips grow cold as everything in me seemed to curl into a tight ball and lodged itself in my throat. I wasn't just out on a limb anymore; I was out on a limb attached to an unstable tree planted at the lip of a bubbling volcano.
I waited, again, for something to be said or to happen. When nothing did, I took the initiative to fidget with whatever I could get my fingers on while keeping my eyes on the trees and the stars in the distance.
I took a deep breath and just did something I never really remembered myself doing before. I don't know why I was suddenly so open about this, maybe because of Justin. Maybe because I realized that he lost all his opportunities and I still had mine. If I didn't at least try, I wasn't going to know.
Not knowing, staying in limbo, was torturous and I was sick of the masochistic hurt. Hyper-active, fluffy-winged butterflies were doing lazy laps from my brain, down into my stomach, and back again. Either I was going to throw up, or my head was going to fly away with all the energy being focused in my chest.
You know, for someone who claimed to not like drama, the man sure knew how to create some!
Finally, I couldn't take it any longer and turned with an apology perched on my lips and ready to fly.
"Look, Bobby,if I-" That was as much as I got out before being, well, pleasantly surprised with him shutting my mind down.
No, not the Emma way, but in the he-is-kissing-me-like-he-used-to-and-dang- the-man-knows-how-to-kiss way. I was too stunned that a, he was kissing me, and b, that I had thought I freaked him out, but was so, so wrong. I was way too flabbergasted to react to anything.
When he pulled back a little, a slight smirk on his lips, I could only gawk at him. Bobby tilted his head to the side and asked, "What were you saying? I—got distracted."
Figuring words weren't going to do any good now (especially since the hamster in my head that runs on the wheel that powers my thoughts died from a heart attack brought on by joy and shock), I leaned back into him, this time I responded to the kiss full heartedly.