"I don't mean to burst your bubble, Erik," Heather replied, trying not to let out a bitter laugh, "But Charles and I have been trying for almost a week to get my power to work. Can't we just accept that all I can do is talk to the dead?"
Erik shook his head, a determined look in his eye. "No. Because now we know something that will help."
"And what if it doesn't work?"
"Then we'll find something else," Charles interrupted, "We're not giving up on you." For some reason, that sentence had a warm feeling spreading through Heather's stomach, and she couldn't help but smile. "Fine, fine. But make it quick. You said yourself that we need to get plenty of rest for tomorrow." Charles chuckled at that, before glancing back at Erik to continue.
"You need to focus - "
" - I am focusing, I just - "
" - No." Erik stopped her, a sharp look in his gaze shocking her into silence, "You're not. You may look you are, but you're not truly focused. Someone once told me that true focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity - " Out of the corner of her eye, Heather spotted a smug look on Charles' face, " - Now... I need you to think of a happy memory."
Heather looked at him in confusion, but seeing that there was no joking smirk on his face, she obeyed. She closed her eyes and thought hard about her past. She thought of her father; the gentle giant with his curly beard, his rough laugh, his strong arms and his twinkling eyes. She thought of her mother; the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, a girl with movie star looks but with a heart of ice. She thought of her mother standing in front of the mirror day and night, pinching at the fat on her hips and hissing at her over and over, "You did this, you did this, you did this."
The bruises under her mother's eyes that she collected after her father's funeral, the blank stare that followed like she had died along with her husband. She thought of the pills and the sobbing and - "Stop that." The voice echoed in her skull, and Heather realized with a start that Charles had been watching the memories too. She felt a gentle tug somewhere in her mind, before she saw it: her mother's laugh and the way she had looked at her husband, with pure and utter adoration.
The good memories continued after that with her older half-brother; with his boyish charm and easy smile that had girls falling hard for him. She thought of peeking into his casket once he returned from Germany, hearing the whispers of "He was too young, too young." How her father had hugged the folded flag like it was his own son, and the way her mother had winced each time the gun was shot into the sky. But to avoid bad thoughts, she remembered the joy she had felt when he had returned as a spirit - her own little secret.
Heather felt a warmness spread throughout her entire body and it got warmer and warmer, until a surge of energy and strength went through her and, with a gasp, shot out of her fingertips.
"Ow!" Charles yelped and Heather's eyes shot open to find Erik gaping at her and Charles rubbing his shoulder. "What - How - " She looked back and forth between the two, trying to get an answer on what the hell had just happened. Charles' eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, before his eyes widened almost comically. "That's it!" He exclaimed.
"What?" Erik and Heather said at the same time, both shamelessly confused.
"When Heather uses her powers, her soul harmonizes with others and she draws strength from them. Harmonizing allows you to manipulate the astral plane."
Heather stood there in shock, before looking at Charles' joyful face and smiling in disbelief. "We did it. We - we actually did it. We actually solved it." That seemed to awaken Erik. "Well," he said, stepping closer to Heather, "let's see what else you can do."
Further experimentation revealed that Heather could produce a physical and mental shield. "I can't see you," Charles had gasped the first time she had discovered it, "I mean, I can see you physically but - mentally, I can't read or even locate your mind." The shield wasn't very strong yet or couldn't go very far, but both Erik and Charles told her that it would strengthen over time and with practice.
They didn't stay out very long after the sun set, and once she had returned to her room, practically bouncing from joy, she had quickly changed into her pajamas and got ready to head to bed. But just as she was lying down, the door of her room slammed open and a crying Raven appeared.
Heather sat up quickly in surprise and asked, "Raven? What's wrong?"
Raven's lower lip trembled as she shut the door behind her and came to sit on the bed, and Heather could see her eyes turning yellow. "I don't - I was so stupid, he doesn't believe I'm pretty like that. I thought he understood, I - "
"Raven!" Heather put her hands on the girl's shoulders, shaking her slightly, "What are you talking about?"
"Hank," Raven replied, trying to choke down her tears and calm enough to explain. "He - he came into my room before and he brought a kind of cure for our appearances. I told him not to, that we're perfect the way we are, but - then he said that society would never find my natural form or his feet beautiful."
Heather felt her heart ache for her friend, who only wanted acceptance, as well as a sudden feeling of anger. "Raven, he's wrong. You're beautiful. Now and in your natural form. And even if society doesn't accept it, you're still probably more beautiful than ninety-nine percent of the human population." Raven let out a wet laugh, before she hesitated and shifted into her blue figure. "Maybe it's just me, but I don't see anything wrong right now," Heather added softly, and Raven, a bright smile lighting up her glum face, pulled her into a tight hug.
Afterwards, Raven decided to stay in Heather's room and sleep, too zoned out to even consider moving, though she did laugh and tell Heather that going and yelling at Hank was probably not the best idea.
Raven fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, but for Heather, it was a different story. No matter how many times she closed her eyes or rolled around and tried to find a comfortable spot, she just couldn't fell asleep. After a while, she sighed and got up, planning to go downstairs and get a drink of water, hoping that it would help her. She quietly headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, wincing when the old wood creaked under her feet.
There, she grabbed a glass from the cabinet and turned on the faucet, pouring herself a drink. She leaned against the counter for a moment or two, sipping the water slowly, before the ringing noise started. Frowning, she set the glass down and pressed her hands against her ears in an attempt to stop the offending noise. But it only seemed to get louder and louder and louder...
Heather suddenly felt very paranoid, an overwhelming feeling that something bad was going to happen, before her stomach somersaulted, and she felt clammy and too warm, then deciding to go outside to try and cool down.
The outside air felt amazing on her sweaty skin and Heather sat in the slightly damp grass, trying to calm her breathing and paranoia as the ringing sound began to fade into a dull mum. She sat there alone for a few while, enjoying the coolness, when she heard someone clear their throat. "Do you like sneaking up on me or something?" Heather asked with a strained laugh. Erik gave her small smile, before sitting down beside her. "I thought you wanted to get a good night's rest?" He asked teasingly, and Heather sighed, leaning her chin on her knees. "Can't sleep, you?"
"Same," he hummed.
"Are you nervous for tomorrow?"
Erik shrugged. "Not really. I've been waiting for this for a long time." Facing off with Shaw, Heather realized, that's what he's been waiting for. She glanced over at the older man, and for a minute it hit her like a train how much she really cared for him - how much she really cared for all of them. Tomorrow, she could lose them if they weren't strong enough to stop Shaw and that - that was scary thought. She - she couldn't stand the thought of seeing any of them as ghosts. Erik, noticing how silent she had become, glanced over at her and Heather quickly looked away, instead noticing a small, weather worn angel statue in the garden in front of them.
"Heather - "
"Did your parents ever talk to you about angels?"
Erik blinked, obviously shocked by the change of subject - hell, even it shocked Heather herself - but he decided not to press. "Sometimes," he responded slowly, "Angels are - were important to our faith." Heather didn't take her eyes off of the angel. "My dad did too. He always told me that everyone had a guardian angel to watch over us, to protect us. They'd always be by our sides and they'd never let anything happen to you."
She then narrowed her eyes at the cherub faced statue, the taste in her mouth bitter. "But there are no guardian angels, Erik. There are no angels. Just ghosts."
Silence fell over the two like a blanket, before a quiet reply came from Erik, so soft that Heather almost didn't hear it. "Maybe you haven't looked hard enough."