(Post-"Dark Victory." Saturn Girl paints a picture, sort of. Rated 'T' again for all the usual reasons. This fic is now complete. Thanks to everyone whose already read and commented. Do so again, if you want to. I don't own any DC characters and situations and blah blah blah.)

A Few Thousand Days Ago

On your last day with the team, my mind was wandering.

I'd come from one more day of meetings with the U.P. brass-- along with the other two founders and Phantom Girl. What felt like an eternity of living on crackers and energy drinks, because we were too busy to grab meals. The collar of my dress jacket constantly itching, because it was brand new. (I flung it onto a bench the minute we were back at HQ for Kell's swearing-in. If no one had been watching, I would have flung it into the trash.) Garth and Rokk were arguing with one another, and it was too damn hot outside. All of this was so familiar that I almost burst into tears of joy a few times.

Your thoughts were all in straight lines of a single color. All resolve, or that's how it seemed to me. I had known a couple of days back that you were planning to leave us. You couldn't hide from me then, any more than you can now.

Like a lot of people who saw you off that day, my own thoughts were variegated. Different colors ran into one another from all directions.

On Titan, the phrase "wandering mind" is its own in-joke. The term for non-telepaths is the same as the term for off-worlders. Curenra, which in turn roughly translates to "without-a-map."

Its antonym: Colcitra: A native, a fully-cognizant person, "thousand-maps."

Even now, once in a while, I stop whatever I'm in the midst of doing and remember how it was with your ancestor. Every damn detail comes back. How I sent Clark and Kell into your mind, hoping to find you and free you. (What other options did we have?) How surprised everyone was that it actually worked-- none more so than me. Even now, remembering makes me shake my head in amazement all over again.

Tinya handed me some punch. The cup's white rim was a ring around dark space and the cold core of ice sparkled with late-day sun. But-- alcohol on a nearly-empty stomach? What if I really did start to cry? Garth would demand an explanation and Rokk would worry. Or was it vice versa?

I took a few small sips, then quietly set the cup down in a corner and hoped that Tinya wouldn't notice.

A lot of people were surprised, either pleasantly or not, when you'd announced that you were leaving. I wasn't one of them. The handwriting had gone on the wall two days before, when you'd come to my office in the early evening. Well, Star Boy had commed me and then shown up more or less towing you along.

"He's a little depressed," was about all Thom said, apart from. "Hey, have you eaten dinner, Imra? You look kind of pale."

I smiled. "Thom, I always look pale," but he wasn't having it.

"I know this great deli down near Old University Place. You eat meat, right?"

"Yes, but--"

"I'll be back in an hour or so and I'll bring you something, okay? And, Brainy?"

"Yes?"

"Don't worry. Everything's gonna' be fine now." His expression and voice didn't match what I read inside. The latter said clearly Imra, if he even thinks about bailing before you want him to, just say the word. I'll drag him back here by his hair if I have to. "Later, you two." He waved like none of us had a care in the world before exiting.

Sometimes I doubt that Thom actually got struck by that comet in an accident. Really, he must have hunted it down across three solar systems and pounced on it instead. It's only really tenacious people that can get away with seeming that relaxed. I thought briefly of my grandfather's stories from his days with the Science Police: Crooks or cops, Imra, the ones you'd never notice are the ones you have to watch.

"So, uh... how are things with you, Saturn Girl?"

I had poured us each a glass of ice water and sat down at the desk, facing you.

"Brainy, I think that's supposed to be my question."

You ran a finger around the rim of the glass. I could see that a few of your nails were torn, or bitten. " 'Depression: sad feelings of gloom and inadequacy, possibly owed to trivial matters.' Is it trivial to find yourself transformed from one state of being into another-- without even knowing how, or what for?"

"Brainy, I wouldn't exactly call that a gospel definition."

"Well, aside from that, I-- I'd like to know... H-how long does all this go on?"

"Can you be a little more specific, Brainy? You know I don't like to just go rummaging inside a friend's consciousness. And yours is too new to even have all the rooms unpacked."

That won me a small smile, at least. A short-lived one. "The way everyone's... I can't forget what happened out there, Saturn Girl. The others..."

"Actually, Brainy, quite a few people don't remember much of anything. They know the gist of what happened, but they don't recall specifics."

"You... you've looked?"

"In some cases, yes, because I was asked to. But..." I toyed with my own glass, considering. "Strong thoughts and feelings sometimes get loose on their own. Given the last few days..."

"I see your point. It's just that..."

"By the way, when you were accessing definitions, did you look up 'forgiveness?' "

"It's only shock." You hung your head. "Because of what I did. The only reason they forgive me is because they can't remember how badly I hurt them. The ones who do remember... they're afraid of me. They hate me." Your arms were crossed.

I shook my head. "The people who forgive you are just weighing everything they've known about you for years against the events of a scant few days. They've decided that years outweigh days. Is that so wrong? If our positions were reversed, wouldn't you at least try to do that? For the sake of the team, if nothing else?"

"I don't know." You pushed the glass away and chewed an already-ragged nail. "Imra, it's as if-- everything important... it's gone forever. The team's trust, my powers... What if I can't...?"

"But everything isn't gone, Brainy. I know it must feel that way, but for one thing: you still have a 12th-level mind. Also, we do have one person on the team with no superpowers. Remember?"

"Yes, well..." Your eyes darted around, following something that I couldn't see at that time. "I suppose it's fortunate that I did some training with Karate Kid, though I couldn't see the point of it before. It was more due to curiosity than anything else."

"I thought it was because Timber Wolf dared you to fight him without using your powers."

Oh, that did it. You actually smirked. "Actually, it was Bouncing Boy. In his own words, his... tail got handed to him that day, too."

I grinned. "Worse than Lightning Lad?" Garth had practically crawled to his monitor shift on all fours that evening, and I'd teased him about it for days afterward.

"Maybe not."

We both laughed for a moment or two.

"I'm just saying that there's some precedent, Brainy. Also, that you're wrong to keep assuming that nobody trusts you."

Your eyes slowed their restless motions a little, but they still weren't really on me. Your gaze wandered around the small room, which hadn't changed at all since HQ opened-- give or take the number of times we'd had to rebuild.

I continued. "Clark and Kell, for instance, remember everything. I've talked to both of them, and I can guarantee that they aren't afraid of you. They don't hate you."

There were the brightly embroidered pillows my mother had sent me, perched on a plain white nul-grav bench that matched the desk. There were my grandfather's small watercolors, landscapes from all over Titan. Even a few views of the home world and Saturn itself from space.

"And you know that I don't. Querl, please believe that. Please." I couldn't help the little tremor in my voice. It was all still clear as day: the awful darkness, the data torrents, a hurricane of thought in a million colors-- from dozens I cared for and millions I'd never know. "That ought to count for something."

Behind the pictures, the walls were pale yellow. The floor had a light blue rug with darker shades of blue on the border and a bright pink circle woven into the center. It's a Saturn rug, Tinya had said when she gave it to me four or five birthdays ago. See the rings? In her mind, she dared me to publicly display something so odd-looking. Of course that meant I had to do it.

A quick glance, straight into my eyes. "I never meant to-- Of course it counts, Imra." A hard swallow.

"Just checking." Dial it down, Imra. I scolded myself. This isn't supposed to be about your damn ego.

"I've never been in here before. The colors seem... calming, somehow."

"That's the general idea, Brainy."

"The name on all these pictures is... Ardeen, but... you didn't paint them, did you?"

"No, no. I can't paint worth a tenth-credit, Brainy. My grandfather, Zaere, did them. He started out in Sci Pol, made it all the way to Lieutenant. But he was in a flyer accident the year before I was born. There was surgery, and it... didn't go well. He woke up without his powers, and they never returned."

You were studying the landscapes intently. "Did he... ever talk about what it was like for him, being without them?"

He had, but to my ever-lasting regret, I'd never paid much attention. As I kid, I'd found sitting in a field sketching grass and wildflowers with a brush to be almost painfully boring. I was more interested in hearing stories about criminals and shoot-outs. Not that there was much of that on Titan, compared to some other places.

"He used to say that the silence in his head made the paintings better. No distractions. He claimed that he didn't regret a thing."

You nodded as I continued. "He made a good living, better than he had as an officer. People considered him... exotic, I guess. Or maybe quaint is the right term."

Otherworldly. Curenra. Backward.

It bothered him. He hated their pity, but he went to his grave without ever admitting it out loud. He ignored the family's wishes that he keep searching for a way to get his powers back. When he tired of their attempts to help, he would disappear off-planet for months at a stretch. Nobody but my sister Jancel and I would hear from him. We'd get sketches via shuttle post, with friendly notes scribbled on the back. Telepathic calls from the rest of the family, not to mention "real" calls, he simply ignored.

Zaere didn't live to see me get accepted into the Sci Pol Academy on Terra, or to see everything that followed. Would he have been proud of me? I'll never know. Even for telepaths, there's a point beyond which no map exists. Where there's nothing to do but cross fingers and hope.

"People can adjust to anything, Brainy. When they're determined enough."

You nodded absently, your eyes still focused on the pictures. "I like these. The images are... very pleasing to my eyes."

I smiled. "Mine, too. Of course I'm kind of biased."

You turned to look at me again. "Saturn... Imra..."

I waited a moment before prompting you. "Querl, what is it? You know that I don't repeat things people want to keep secret."

"Star Boy... Thom thinks I'm in danger because of this... sadness. Do you think so?"

I shook my head. "Brainy, I was there with you, inside your mind. I saw you repel Brainiac 1's attack. You're a strong personality in any form, but you've... crossed over from one kind of physical existence to another-- very rapidly. Your mind hasn't quite caught up yet. Just be careful of snap decisions, all right?"

You nodded. "I'd like to go back to my quarters now, please. There's... some things I have to work out for..." You slowly drew off your flight ring, then put it on again.

That was when I knew. No powers necessary. On impulse, I took your hand. You looked startled, but you didn't pull away. "Querl, we're friends and we always will be. I'll back you up, whatever you decide. I promise."

"Thank You, Imra. I appreciate that."

Alone, I sat in my office for a while, my mind drifting from landscapes to mindscapes and back again while I pretended to do paperwork. Thom came back a little later, good as his word. A cold fruit drink and a sandwich big enough to feed half the team landed on my desk.

"So what do you think, Imra?" He didn't bother to sit, but just stood in the doorway. I smelled new-mown grass on his brown civ shoes, and saw it clinging to his dark blue trouser cuffs. He had clearly cut through a park or two on his errand. "Is Brainy doing any better now?"

"He'll be fine, Thom. But if I try and eat this much at once, I'm the one who'll need help. Okay if I split it with Garth?"

"I can't stop you." He grinned for a moment, adjusting a cuff on his plain white shirt. "Oh, and thanks for--"

"You're welcome. Should I--?"

"Forget it. What's a free sandwich or saving all humanity between friends? I'll see you tomorrow morning."

When you and I finally said our goodbyes that last day, almost everyone else had taken their leave. I held your hand and didn't say a thing out loud.

You know we'll be talking again, ring or no ring.

Right. Will you remind Garth of that so he doesn't immolate himself? You know he's still mad at me for leaving.

Mad? Try furious. But he'll get over it.

Imra, I hope the others appreciate everything you did out there... and back here. I won't forget it.

Querl...

We were walking around the corner of the courtyard. The traffic behind us was a soft murmur, and the sun was changing from yellow to orange. Reluctantly, I let your hand go.

Querl, I...

You go ahead, okay? There's... something I still have to do.

I nodded, and took the back way to the upper balcony of HQ-- the shortcut to my quarters. Out the corner of my eye I saw you in person one last time: a small figure flanked by a couple of travel bags, pretending to dig in your pockets for something. You were regarding the street and your own lengthening shadow, but your thoughts faced the other way: back towards the bench where Chameleon Boy was still sitting.

You were adding something to the map in your mind. Erasing it. Trying again in the waning daylight.

Back in my room, I shucked my boots onto the floor and threw my earrings carelessly onto the nightstand, not bothering to take off anything else. I knew Garth was downstairs at the card game, which was going full swing. He'd come out happier, if poorer.

My eyes closed and I sank rapidly into sleep. Then I was walking home along a tree-lined path, one I hadn't seen since childhood. The ground was dry and the autumn leaves hadn't fallen yet. Everything above me rustled in brilliant shades of red, orange, pink, yellow, green and blue.

I walked under that familiar sky, up the back steps and onto the terrace of Granddad's home on Titan. My namesake planet looked down at us, so beautiful and so silent. I pulled up an old chair to watch him brush out the delicate gray lines of a sapling tree. It reminded me a little of a willow, but it was something else.

See that, Imra? One color at a time, otherwise you end up with a page of mud and nobody knows what they're looking at. He added a few feathery dashes of dark brown.

Yes. Yes, I see.

Also, if it's not right at first, never be afraid to walk away for a while, until the picture grows clear again.

I heard whispers behind us, from somewhere close by. Granddad put the sketch aside to dry and began another. I recognized the voices, but I didn't try to discern what you and Cham were saying. That wasn't my property, and I wouldn't wander onto it without permission. Not even in the guise of sleep.

That dream was a one-time thing, but I still remember it. Somehow that little dream-sketch was mine, and Granddad's. It was yours, and Cham's. Everyone I've ever known and loved, maybe. I can't explain why.

The sun came up a few hours later, just like it was supposed to. I woke up. Life got back to normal, or it began reforming into whatever "normal" would be in your absence. But that sketch... I tucked it in amongst the thousand maps in my mind, and it's there even now. Sometimes it's the original colors when I look at it, sometimes it's different colors-- tints and shades I've never seen while awake.

That sketch never existed, and yet it's real as life.

End

("A Few Thousand Days Ago," is pop goodness from Marshall Crenshaw's What's In The Bag. Lyrics posted to my LJ, soon. I owe thanks to a couple of regulars here on FF net and over at the Legion World boards for helping me find some background on SG's family, even though the stuff about her granddad is just riffing on my part. Thanks again for reading.)