Something Beautiful
There's something beautiful about fear. Fear, universal as it is to all creatures, makes humans different from other animals of Earth. Well, maybe not fear itself, but the way humans react when afraid makes us different. Fear makes us strong. Fear makes us weak fear makes us brave. Fear makes us helpless. Fear makes us smarter, faster. Fear makes us slower, dumber.
Fear was, is, and always will be the catalyst for humanity's development. When humans feared the storms and weather, they built houses, a roof over their heads to protect themselves. When humans feared injury from wild animals, they created weapons to protect themselves. When humans feared darkness and nighttime, they invented lanterns.
Fear has always made us improve, always forced us into the path of evolution.
Isn't it glorious? Something so base, so powerful, so instinctual, is what makes humanity better and better. Fear is what causes humans to change and grow, leading them to happier and more perfect lives with each new fear discovered.
Sanjeevani also fears. She fears much in this world. You will see today exactly what her fears are. Whether or not she will overcome them, I shan't say.
The main thing Sanjeevani hated about mornings was the morning. She did enjoy the sun on her face. She did enjoy hearing birds and smelling breakfast. She just hated the other things associated with the morning, like traffic and honking cars, full-body aches and pains, unnecessarily bright lights, and the overall sweatiness associated with waking up in a pile of extremely soft blankets and pillows.
But, because she was now living alone and had to manage 'adulting' without outside help, she got up and readied herself for the morning's struggles, which included going downstairs for breakfast without having a mental breakdown, not crying while checking her papers and making sure she was eligible to get a job to sustain herself, and avoiding all her problems by searching for somewhere to get drinks (with company, obviously, because she refused to drink alone in a strange new place).
She heaved herself out of her half-asleep haze, trudging her feet on the floor as her hands reflexively moved towards the sheets to make the bed. After making the bed, she sprinted to the bathroom, unaware of exactly how sweaty she'd gotten in her sleep and desperately desiring a shower.
Fashion didn't matter much to her. She spent her whole life being handed very, very modest clothing that included full-length jeans or capris, T-shirts that always had at least five-inch-long sleeves and high necks, and skirts that always ended five inches below the knee. Conservative and traditional as her family was, she never had any interest in showing much skin at all. It hindered her greatly during the summertime when the sun's warmth felt more like the scorching heat of a fever or unpleasant campfire. However, she grew accustomed to that style. Trying to leave that lifestyle behind disturbed her. Even when she had the freedom, she couldn't step out of her old lifestyle. Wearing shorts made her feel like everyone's eyes were on her, wearing tank tops made her feel naked, and wearing both simultaneously made her feel like she was standing naked in the middle of the street.
So, she put on the only nice clothes she had left that didn't need a wash, and hurried out of the room, tucking her key card into her front pocket. Like the previous day, Ahmed greeted her at the elevator entrance, and like the previous day, offered to escort her to the cafeteria. They strolled arm-in-arm, speaking softly and trying to wake themselves up.
His comments about her clothing startled her a little. "It's a bit too warm to be wearing full sleeves and long pants, don't you think?" Warm walnut-toned eyes hesitantly peeked at her outfit, eyebrows crinkling with concern.
Sanjeevani worried at her lower lip with her teeth, eyes avoiding her friend's face. "I just like them. Besides, I'm used to the heat." Ahmed seemed to understand her thoughts and gave a placating, gentle smile while patting her hand.
"Of course, of course. Have you been busy this morning? I've heard some statements - not exactly complaints - from your fellow floormates that they heard movement in your room in the early hours of daylight."
"Hm? I dunno, I got up when I started hearing the birds outside. I didn't check the clock."
Ahmed stopped walking to turn his head and stare at her for a few moments. "My friend, that means you woke up at the beginnings of dawn. Without an alarm. That's quite unusual. I mean, the morning fog and smog of Paris don't allow for much light in the mornings, especially considering you live in what's basically a hotel for asylum seekers."
She grinned. "I've been waking up at dawn since I turned seven, Ahmed. That whole 'perfect Indian women' ordeal. You wake up early and go to bed late, especially if you're learning to sustain a home and be a good housewife. At this point, my biological clock's set to other animals' clocks. Wake up at dawn, go to bed a little after dusk."
He huffed, frowning on her behalf as they resumed their walk to the cafeteria. "Why did your parents make you get up so early when you were a child? That is hardly fair. I doubt you had that much to do as a child, despite the taxing homework and teaching practices of the American education system."
"Look, they wanted to teach me to be an Indian wife. Not an Indian kid. My mom is from Tamilnadu, my dad's from Andhra. Both came from strict, fairly wealthy families in India, and both their families had that belief about women belonging in the home while men belong in an office or other proper work. I was taught to be the perfect Desi woman. I was only encouraged to take an interest in the arts. Dance, music, writing, painting, history, languages, that kind of stuff. Math and sciences were only encouraged to make sure I got really good grades. Otherwise, I wasn't supposed to learn the 'boys' subjects'. I learned to cook full meals by the time I was thirteen. I learned to do every kind of cleaning chore by the time I was ten. I learned how to bathe and clothe myself by the time I was six. I wasn't allowed to be a kid. Considering that childhood, that upbringing, is it really that surprising that my parents made me get up at dawn every day since I was a kid?" There she went, oversharing as usual. She should keep more things secret, but how could she? Someone had to know her. Her parents certainly didn't know her, even though they raised her to be how she is. Dr. Strange didn't hang around long enough to learn about her. Her navy buddies were long gone, back home in the US, probably. She had no other friends here. She had to tell her story to someone.
Ahmed squeezed her hand with restrained force, gazing hard into her eyes. "I am sorry for what you have experienced. I'm sorry you had no support or love or compassion when you were so alone. But…but we are friends now, yes? You have my secret, and I have yours. I will be there with you whenever you need me."
She laughed, leaning her head against his shoulder. He wasn't her best friend from home, but damn, Ahmed was such a good soul. "Buddy, we're not friends yet. I've bared open my heart to you. But you haven't done the same for me. I don't know your story. Until almost all is shared, we're not complete friends."
He grinned, eyes brighter than before, now glinting with a hushed golden hue. "Then we will talk more. Let's get breakfast, though. My stomach feels like an empty pit of darkness."
"Just say it's a chasm. Shorter and easier."
"I live for the theatrical, my friend. I'm a writer."
Sanjeevani snorted under her breath. "Didn't need to hear it to know it."
"Hey!" He pushed her shoulder, grumbling indignantly. She laughed brighter, rushing off to greet their group of friends with hugs and exclamations of joy about her letter about the subsidiary protection status she was granted.
They all cheered for her, another round of hugs and affection blossoming once more in the group. An affectionate chuckle and exasperated shake of the head later, Ahmed jogged over to join the group. They greeted him with claps to the shoulders and sweet kisses to the cheeks, as per the traditional European custom.
Half the group sat down to claim a table so the other half could go get breakfast. And then, once the first round had returned with plates piled high, the second round left.
All nine youths plopped down on the chairs surrounding the round table, each engaged in a peculiar conversation with the other. As the group descended into breakfast-occupied silence, Ahmed smiled hand held his glass of orange juice up, looking around at his friends. "I'd like to propose a toast to our newest friend who gained legal residence here in France. We may not all know her name, but by God, she is our dear friend. To our newest friend! May she live long and prosper here!" Everyone snickered softly at his theatrical wording, but nodded, lifting their glasses of juice and cheered, "To our newest friend!" before clinking glasses together.
Sanjeevani giggled, rolling her eyes a little. "Thank you, my friends. I mean, Ahmed, even for my tastes, that was a bit thespian, but I can't say I mind. I really appreciate all of this. I mean, you guys are the best people I've encountered in France so far. Not that I've really gotten to know people besides you, but that's not the point."
They all ceased their joyful laughter and amusing conversation to completely focus on her. As if something obstructed her voice, she swallowed for a moment and looked back to her friends. "You have given me more than I could have ever asked for. In return, I want to give you my truth. My reality. I know I can trust you guys. And you need to know I trust you too. So this evening, let's all meet up in my room for chocolate strawberries and sparkling apple cider."
Jacques raised an elegant eyebrow. "Sparkling apple cider."
She shrugged. "Well, we can't have alcohol here. Otherwise, I would treat you guys to some nice champagne. Sparkling apple cider is the next closest thing."
Sonia laughed like the tinkling of a bell. "You're so cute."
Sanjeevani, feeling a spark of confidence light up in her soul, grinned charmingly. "Believe me, I try. It usually works with grandparents. Now I just need to test it out with people our age."
Everyone joined in on the laughter, Ahmed choking on his juice from his excessive snickering. Sanjeevani was feeling the glow of friendship. This was good. If she could, she would stay here forever. And ever. And ever and ever and ever. These were the best people in her life, by far.
As the conversations continued, she scarfed down her breakfast, hungrier than she thought she would be after that unnecessarily huge dinner last night.
Ahmed watched her consume her meal with mild horror and extreme disgust. "Are you sure you aren't part lion?"
She pouted upon lifting her head to catch her breath. "I have a fast metabolism. Really fast. You know exactly why, Ahmed. Stop judging me. I need my calories."
Dark eyebrows scrunched together a second before dark eyes widened dramatically. "Ohhhh. Sorry, sorry. I forgot." He had completely forgotten about her powers. It would make sense that healing people took up a lot of energy. He should have considered that.
However, the other people at their table had no idea of Sanjeevani's powers, nor the fact that Ahmed knew about them. So, they gained a completely different impression of what Sanjeevani was talking about. Sonia and the other girls cooed or winced in sympathy, patting the newest member's hand or shoulder gently. Elizabeth offered some tips for cramps, like drinking cranberry juice and eating bananas. Olivia just sighed in understanding, and Helen offered some Advil and Ibuprofen "just in case". Timothy and Jacques coughed awkwardly and looked away, but sweet Alvin explained in a low, gentle voice to Sanjeevani (while staring deep into her eyes earnestly) that he always had tampons and pads with him in case any female friends, family members, or strangers were in need of them.
The young woman could only smile her least awkward smile and thank them for their help. She did NOT think that's what they understood from her conversation with Ahmed, but still. She had a confirmed impression of this odd group: they truly were the best people ever.
Four hours later, they met again for lunch. In those four hours, Sanjeevani was productive. Well, as productive as you can be when a TV and a smartphone exist in the same room as you.
She reviewed her skills in life. She knew all the Microsoft thingies, she could use a computer and social media (secret accounts that her parents never found out about), she could communicate well, she had good people person skills, and she could dance. Dancing was her main talent and skill. The best option at the current moment: she could perform for people. Hindu religious events, most weddings, shows organized by Indian-centered cultural organizations, dance competitions, etc. She could build a base here. For now, she would do weddings and religious event performances. An uncomplicated flow of cash and quick payment. But she had to get her gear, so maybe she could borrow it from the family? In return for borrowing the jewelry and clothes and whatever else, she could do half-price?
As doubt and hope settled into her stomach, she walked over to her giant backpack and dug through the extra sets of clothes and toiletries before bursting into loud sobs at the sight of her dance clothes and jewelry and anklets and makeup all waiting for her at the bottom of the bag.
She didn't know what miracle this was. Maybe Doctor Strange had something to do with this. But the next time she saw him, she would thank the hell out of him. She didn't know how he knew she would need this stuff or how he even got it, but fuck all that. It didn't matter now.
She had hope. She could make it in this huge, terrible world. She would be okay.
Besides, if nothing else worked, she could mask herself and hide her identity and offer her miraculous healing services in exchange for money, but no more than the person was willing to pay. If they didn't want to, then it's no big deal. (She might ask the person to buy her or make her a meal, but only if the person seems kind and is willing.)
But the performances would all have to be paid for in cash. She didn't have any bank account or anything like that here. She should probably set one up. And she'd need to set up a budget to make sure the money going out doesn't exceed the money coming in.
So that's what she did. Instead of watching movies or taking a nap or relaxing after her major ordeals of traveling to France while mourning her disownment, she crunched numbers and determined what her prices for performances and payments would be. And then came the budget, which included clothing, food (if she wanted anything besides what the cafeteria downstairs provided), entertainment (probably a Netflix account or something), and savings, which would be the majority of her budget.
Too soon, morning became afternoon, afternoon became night, and dinnertime arrived. Sanjeevani had skipped lunch in favor of crafting the perfect plan to sustain herself in France. Because of this, the raging beast known as hunger slowly took over her body as she once again made the journey down to the first floor. And once again, Ahmed awaited her arrival at the elevator to escort her to the cafeteria. The two walked arm in arm, talking quietly, nervously about what would happen that night.
Sanjeevani softly explained her desire to tell their friends her secret. They both were stressed out about the whole thing, and they really shouldn't have been. But they knew the stress wouldn't help, so instead chose to peacefully go to dinner and ignore the problems until it was time to tell everything.
Their friends greeted them with big smiles and cheer, all of which melted away at the two youths' nervous behavior. Jacques, the most emotionally receptive of the nine friends, stood quickly and hurried to his companions, resting a hand on Sanjeevani's right shoulder and Ahmed's left shoulder. "Are you both alright? What's happened, you two?"
Sanjeevani looked up at Ahmed gently, and the two unlinked arms so the young woman could hug her concerned friend. Jacques paused a moment, freezing in his place. He was a good friend. He cared about all of his friends, even this young woman who hadn't even told them her name yet. He considered every one of them important in his life. But he had so many questions about this girl. So many unanswered queries about herself and her life. And yet, she hugged him with such love and affection and kindness and gratitude and so many other things, he couldn't help but freeze in an attempt to stop and understand what was going on. He didn't expect her hug, but damn, he appreciated it. A half a moment. That was the pause. Half a moment. But it felt so much longer. After feeling and conscious thought returned to him, he hugged back.
She was so small. Not too fragile and delicate, but still small. Shorter than all of the males in the group, absolutely. Her head barely reached his collarbone. She wrapped both arms around him like he was her anchor to the mortal plane. Her ear blushed white from pressure, as if she were trying to hear and memorize his heartbeat. The two breathed in deeply before exhaling just as hard and letting go of one another.
Jacques held her by the shoulders, and the young woman beamed up at him, her smile shining as if the stars lived under her skin. Her hands gently grasped his wrists, her thumb just barely grazing his pulse point.
The pure love in her voice nearly broke him. "Thank you, my friend. Thank you dearly." He held his tears at bay and nodded, smiling back as sweetly as he could muster. She patted his cheek warmly and stepped back, hooking arms with Ahmed again.
Shaken by the experience, the young man walked back to the table, sitting beside his darling girlfriend weakly. He plopped down onto the bench, gazing at Sonia with fatigue and joy in his eyes. Ahmed and Sanjeevani walked over and sat down beside each other, Alvin seated at the woman's right while Helen sat to Ahmed's left.
As a man of action rather than words, Alvin didn't like to waste his time thinking unnecessary or unimportant thoughts. But he could tell something had just changed in the group. He and Timothy, who sat across from him, shared a look. Jacques and Ahmed were kind of the epicenter of the group. Jacques was the most charismatic of them, and Ahmed was such a stable person, their gentle giant. They didn't crumble or shake or quiver at anything coming their way. But when Jacques returned to them, he seemed different. Something in that hug between Jacques and their mysterious new friend had changed the young man.
They wouldn't bother him. The four young men had an unspoken agreement among them: if someone has an issue, the others wouldn't ask him for any information at all until he himself was ready to speak about it. It saved a lot of wasted time and words, and usually, it helped the four of them heal faster.
The only weird thing about this whole ordeal was the fact that Jacques didn't seem traumatized. He seemed touched. Touched to the point of tears, almost. The four of them would talk about that later. Hopefully before their newest friend's storytime session, but who knows?
Alvin turned his attention back to the young woman, who was yawning and leaning against him as if she was ready to fall asleep right there. "You okay?" He gently shook her left shoulder, trying to wake her up a little.
She sat up straighter, rubbing her face. "Wha- yeah, yeah. I'm fine, Alvin. Just…" Yawn. "Just tired off my ass, is all." And once she said her piece, she leaned into him again, pressing her cheek to his shoulder. He could only chuckle softly and scoot closer so she wouldn't sprain her neck trying to rest against him.
"Come on, eat and then take a nap. You can't do both at the same time."
"Try me."
Timothy rolled his eyes. "She needs some coffee, guys."
Elizabeth huffed. "Absolutely not. It's eight at night. No one's having caffeine right now. She just needs some food in her. Should I go fix her a plate, Ahmed?"
The young man raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me?"
"Because you two are closer friends than any of us are with her. And because I know she tells you more about herself than she tells us."
He sighed. "Touché. Yes, would you do that, Eliza? It would be much appreciated. I'm afraid she's dead on her feet. Stress and exhaustion and working eight hours straight on no lunch really are weighing her down."
Elizabeth smiled softly, nodding. "Of course. She's our friend too." On her way to the buffet lines, she patted Sanjeevani on the head, giggling quietly when the girl leaned into her touch. "You're welcome, dear," she cooed to the exhausted teen.
Timothy chuckled. "She's literally like a child. I'm glad she has us."
Ahmed nodded. "Don't even get me started. She'd be either dead outside or dead inside were it not for you all. She's a hazard to herself, really."
Helen peeked over at her, smiling. "So are you gonna tell us any details about her? I mean, she's actually asleep."
A quiet whine from Alvin's shoulder. "No, I'm noooot." The Swedish youth shushed her gently, throwing his jacket over her shoulders as she curled into his side. "Just sleep. Food will come soon, okay?" A nod against his arm, and the soft breathing of her deep slumber resumed.
"I do not know. I'm not sure I feel comfortable telling you things if she doesn't approve," admitted the bearded giant.
Helen persisted. "But it's just basic info! Her birthday, for example! What if we want to celebrate it and throw a party for her or something?"
Ahmed sighed. "Birthdays are commonly used in identifying people. Especially if the person has hospital records."
Olivia told her sister to be quiet before explaining, "Look, we just want to know about her. We know nothing, and yet we care so much for her. That's not fair to us or to her. Friendship is a two-way street, Ahmed. We all know that."
He hesitated. "It wouldn't be appropriate. As much as she trusts me, I couldn't tell you anything. It's not my place. She trusts me. I can't betray her. Her safety, well-being. Hell, whether or not she lives depends on her controlling who all knows about her. I won't give her enemies or ill-wishers any way or reason to get to her if I can stop it. She's special. She has something about her that's different. She has told me, but I won't let that information reach anyone who shouldn't know it."
The demeanor of the table morphed, lighthearted jokes and amusement darkening into low, serious voices and worrying.
Sonia asked Ahmed, her trembling voice the ripple of water on a lake, "Is she a moral person? Is she someone we should trust? If she has enemies, what does that mean? What has she done?"
He smiled gently, reaching over to take her hand, enfolding it in both of his. "She is a very moral person, though that doesn't really make sense grammatically. We should trust her. Her having enemies means she's doing work that other people don't like because of their personal reasons. She's done nothing but help people. She's even helped me."
She murmured, still unable to understand her new friend, "Then why is she hiding from us if she's a good person?"
He spoke softly. "Why do good people hide at all? Sonia, she's fearful. She's terrified of what people may do to her if they learn about her. She has good reasons to be afraid of people. Her family hurt her because she was different from them. She hid the truth in fear of her safety, and they hurt her badly anyways. If not telling people anything at all is the best way for her to protect herself, she has a right to do that."
Elizabeth hurried back to the table, a plate filled with food balanced on one hand with a large glass of gently sloshing milk gripped tightly by the other. She set them down carefully in front of Sanjeevani, who still hadn't woken up. Alvin sighed, exasperation and fondness seeping through his voice as he jostled the young woman to consciousness in sweet Swedish words. "Vakna, älskling. Du behöver äta."
She whined before blearily opening her eyes and sitting up, propped up by Alvin's steady hand on her back. "If you don't eat, you won't function. You'll start grumbling to everyone about your early morning hunger pains, and none of us will feel bad for you," he warned. She pouted at him before leaning away from the table to stretch her arms and back before rubbing some consciousness into her face again.
"Fine, fine, you mother hen. I'll eat." She smiled slowly, blinking hard a couple of times to shake off the last of her slumber. She grabbed the fork and started shoveling pieces of garlic-roasted potato cubes into her mouth. "Okay, you were right. I am ravenous."
Ahmed laughed, nodding his head. "As expected. You still eat like a beast."
She squinted at him. "You still eat like a proper aristocratic pansy, but you don't see me saying anything." He huffed, rolling his eyes at the sound of his other friends all oohing at the retort from the tired young woman.
"You're so heartless, you know," he mused. She shrugged.
"Takes one to know one, dude." More 'oohing. She giggled softly, chewing on some salad greens as Ahmed pinched her arm. "Ow! Rude."
"Serves you right." He smiled at her petulant pout and stroked a hand down her hair. A spark lit in his eyes. "Do you mind if I braid your hair?"
She raised an eyebrow at the request, but nodded her head, continuing to eat peacefully. The others quickly stood up to go and retrieve food for themselves.
Ahmed turned her by her shoulders slightly, positioning her in a way that was more convenient for him to work with her hair.
Once the others returned, Sanjeevani asked softly, "Don't you need a comb or something?"
Ahmed began to respond when Helen squeaked, pulling a mini hairbrush out of her purse. "I have this!" He grinned, thanking her with a pat on her hand before taking hold of the brush. He sat back down and started brushing through Sanjeevani's hair.
He grunted at some of the tighter knots but worked through them gently. The others watched on in fascination since they'd never seen the girl's hair down before.
"How come your hair is so long?" wondered Timothy.
She grinned. "That, I can tell you about. My mom never had the chance to grow long hair because her hair took a long time to grow even an inch. So, she made me grow my hair super long. And because I dance, it's useful for that too. Indian classical dance basically requires women to have long hair. It's what was considered beautiful in old times, so we stick to that now, too. If a girl's hair isn't that long, there are even specific Indian artificial extensions to make it seem longer."
Helen mused, "Wow. Isn't it heavy? That would make it harder to dance, right?"
Sanjeevani winked at them as Ahmed began working her dark, curly locks into a French braid. "That's why Indian classical dancers are generally really strong. We have to carry a lot of weight from our hair, our jewelry, our clothes, our anklets, and everything else, so we end up unintentionally doing weight training every time we dance in full costume. Which is fairly often for me."
Olivia piped up from Ahmed's other side. "How long have you been dancing?"
"Uhhh…shit. Hold on." She bit her lip and set down her knife and fork to count on her hand. "One, two, three, four…Okay. I think it was for about fifteen years."
Alvin choked on his water. "Fifteen?! How old are you now?"
"No can do, brother. But I'll just say I'm a legal adult in America at the moment."
They nodded in understanding.
"Would you ever dance for us?" asked Ahmed. "I mean, you don't have to, but we'd love to see you do what you love."
She smiled sadly, leaning against him gently. He coiled an arm around her shoulders. "It's not what I love, buddy. It never was. It was always just something I did because my parents made me. But there's a part of it that I did love. That I do love."
Everyone paused, eyes focusing in on the small form of their new friend. Soft smiles, sweet eyes, slow heartbeats, as if the whole world had stopped to let them experience that moment. "When I'm dancing to the music I love or to music only I can hear, I lose myself to it. I just dance and I could go on forever until the world ends. I don't hear anything except the music in my head. I don't see anything except the next place I need to set my feet. I don't feel anything except my own body."
Not a word came from any of them, all mesmerized with the moment they were sharing.
She smiled wistfully, voice now weak with love and nostalgia. "One person has seen me in that state. Luke. A good friend, and a great man."
Olivia dared to make noise in that gorgeous silence by asking, "Who was he?"
Sanjeevani hummed. "My sailor friend. He found me dancing in a storm on the deck of the ship that brought me to France. I was almost sliding off the edge, and he brought me back to safety. I had just lost my family's love, and he was with me the next morning after each night I mourned."
Light in her eyes, smile on her lips, she continued her story. "I snuck onto a crate in the US. Damn, it was weird that I found one open and mostly empty. I climbed in and kept real quiet. Somehow, no one saw me get in. Even after, no one noticed me until three sailors doing inventory heard me breathing. They brought me up to the Captain's office, and we struck up a deal."
Mischief alight in her face. Everyone grinned. "For helping every sailor on the ship, the Captain would let me stay on the ship and get me safely into France."
Timothy chuckled, breaking the other eight friends' silence again. Sanjeevani smiled. "Luke was a darling. Stayed by my side the entire time. Another one, Matthew. He was the silent giant. A looming face always, but I never felt scared. Remember I said Luke saw me lost in my dance? Matthew and I fought later that night. Too complex to explain now, but it was rough. But we eventually made up." She laughed softly. "He was so protective that he didn't want to leave me alone with Luke. Even though we had just fought. He was a brother to me, the brute."
Alvin joked quietly, "So like Ahmed but rougher?"
She giggled sweetly, a song of bells ringing in her voice. "Yes. Exactly like that. I mean, Matthew isn't as affectionate or soft as Ahmed, but just as kind and understanding." She patted her giant friend's shoulder with a strong hand. Ahmed smiled warmly, pulling her into his side gently. "I made so many wonderful friends there. An older woman named Mrs. Baxter. She was my female confidant. My sister-in-arms. My mother away from my mother. She constantly guided me through any issue I had on that ship."
Sanjeevani breathed. "Luke, Matthew, Mrs. Baxter. Those guys were my rock. They kept me stable and functioning when I thought my life had gone to shit. Everything was better because of them. Once we got to France, they drove me everywhere I needed and only left once they knew I would be okay. I got their numbers, so I won't lose them completely, but I do miss them dearly."
Elizabeth asked, voice wet with emotion and love, "Would you stay with them forever if you could? It sounds like you really miss them a lot."
"Perhaps. But I want you guys too. I want them and you. I might be asking for a lot, but it doesn't seem like it. I want my friends. I want the people who love and care for me. I want to be surrounded by the love my parents refused me," she confessed. She smiled warmly a moment later. "When one family rejected me, the universe gave me another one."
Jacques reached across the table and took her hands into his, bright smile stretching his face as dark eyes shone with glassy tears. "Then we're glad to have you with us."
She cooed, squeezing his hands before letting go so Sonia could hug her beloved tightly. "If you softies are done eating, I'm going to rip open my heart to you all and let you judge me."
Tearful laughter and shaking shoulders. Alvin chuckled as he wiped at his face. The only ones less affected and not at all tearful were Timothy and Helen. Sanjeevani smiled and hugged Alvin and Ahmed close to her, kissing the tops of their heads as they rested their faces in her neck. "You all are so emotional, my goodness. A simple story about my time on a boat made you tearful, I wonder what would happen if I tell you guys my entire life story."
They laughed again, this time with less crying and more joy.
"Come on, now. Finish up. I have a looong story, and I expect a sleepover at the end of it. None of you look emotionally strong enough to sleep alone tonight."
Dinner only lasted another twenty minutes. And it only took that long because Helen and Timothy went back for more dessert. (It was a fabulous chocolate cheesecake with raspberries, okay?! They couldn't help themselves!)
Everyone had to pause for a little while before leaving, though. Dinner was massive. As if each person ate the same amount of food that an elephant would eat in a day.
Once their resting period ended, the nine stood up together and glanced at one another before walking to the elevator together. Again, Sanjeevani and Ahmed walked arm in arm, but the others walked behind them this time. They all stood steely silent while waiting to reach Sanjeevani's floor. You could drop a feather onto the carpet and hear the gentle thud. That's how quiet everyone was. It was a mixture of fear and excitement and confusion. The group didn't know what to expect and just went through the motions.
Sanjeevani and Ahmed walked ahead of the group, both their bodies shaking as they approached her door. She attempted to keep her fingers unmoving, but all in vain.
Fingers quivering, she reached into her back pocket to retrieve her key card. The door unlocked with a soft click, and she stepped inside slowly like she was a character in a horror movie exploring the haunted house her mom told her never to enter.
Her feet carried her as far as the desk chair into which she plopped, a rag doll of flesh and bone rather than cloth and cotton. Ahmed steadied her as she sat, making sure she didn't topple over onto the floor. The others quietly entered the room, sitting on the bed or on the floor. Ahmed sat on the floor at Sanjeevani's side, holding her hand gently.
She breathed in deeply, letting out a shaky exhale a second later. Everyone turned to her.
"You all never knew my name. You never knew anything about me, but you loved me anyway. I am eternally grateful for that. You deserve to know a lot." She sniffled, rubbing her face to clear away the rising tears. "But I need you all to promise me something first."
Alvin asked quietly, stiffly, "What do we need to promise you?"
She smiled sadly, chin quivering as her teeth chewed her bottom lip. "That you won't repeat to anyone any of this information I'm about to tell you for three years. That's all I ask. For three years, don't tell anyone any of this. If I tell this to others prior to those three years, then you can talk about it. But for now, don't tell anyone. Please?"
Olivia hummed. "Do you want us to sign something? A binding contract so we won't break it?"
"No. If you all are truly my friends, if you all truly care about me, you won't tell any of this to anyone no matter what you think of me after tonight," Sanjeevani explained. They all either remained silent or sighed.
This was getting just a bit weird for them.
"But don't be afraid. I'm not a murderer or a drug dealer or anything like that. Probably the opposite, honestly. Let me start from the beginning."
She glanced at Ahmed, who smiled up at her and squeezed her hand. "You have me. You're alright. Go on. Tell your story."
She pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks and pulled back with a grateful smile. Dark eyes returned to the other seven occupants of the room. "My name is Sanjeevani. I am nineteen years old. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia in the United States of America. My mother is from Tamilnadu in India, and my father is from Andhra Pradesh, also in India. I have a younger brother who's only six years old. He's my best friend ever."
The others remained silent, listening intently. "I have had a weird life for the past month or so. I am actually not from this dimension. I'm from another dimension. Doctor Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, found me and brought me to this reality to save Tony Stark. Mr. Stark had just used a gauntlet to destroy the evil alien forces that tried to destroy the universe. He died. But Doctor Strange and I were able to bring him back to life. I have these healing powers. I think they came from some kind of genetic mutation. I learned about them in my dimension, but my parents found out. They thought I had those powers forever and just hid my abilities from them. They got mad because they assumed I hid my powers and didn't want to help our sick family members. A lie. I only discovered them that day, but they got really mad. Started hitting me badly. I bled a lot. Doctor Strange saved me from that."
She breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate or cry, but it was unavoidable. Ahmed smiled as warmly as he could and gently pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair. She cried softly and clung to the lapels of his jacket before calming down somewhat and letting go.
She tried to shake off her sadness. "The Doc fought with my parents, and they basically disowned me because I chose to go with him instead of staying with them. He brought me to this reality. We saved Mr. Stark somehow. I can't remember the details of it because I passed out immediately after. Too much use of my powers for just having discovered them. The Avengers tried to recruit me. They wanted me to learn how to use my powers with Loki as my teacher. I wasn't ready to do all that stuff. I just. I just lost my family. My friends. My old life, everything. I needed to get away. So I snuck onto that ship going to France. Everything else is the same. The deal I made with the Captain was about me using my healing powers. If I healed everyone of their issues, he'd get me safely to France. And that's where the past catches up with the present."
Helen whispered. "How long? How long did you plan to hide this from us?"
Sanjeevani burst into tears again. "As long as I needed to keep safe. I would have been experimented on in my dimension. And I know people would want to do that to me in this dimension. I needed to stay safe. I still need to stay safe. I can't risk this stuff getting out to anyone."
Ahmed curled her up into his arms, trying to gently rock her back and forth into peace. It wasn't working much, but at least she stopped sobbing.
Alvin swallowed audibly. He stood on quaking legs and walked towards Sanjeevani, kneeling down in front of her. He took one of her hands and held it in both of his, locking eyes with her when she glanced at him. "Will you show us? Show us what you can do?"
She bit her lip, her eyes still wider than she would have preferred and hands still shaking harder than she would have preferred. Slowly, her head bobbed up and down in a weak nod. "Is anyone hurt? Any injuries that need healing? It's fine if they're old or new. I can't really heal scars, though. Not yet, anyway."
Alvin looked at the others. Everyone's eyes fell on Jacques when he stood up. He approached the crying young superhuman and explained softly, "You know I was beaten when trying to leave my country and continent. So many whippings on my back and shoulders. Can you heal them all?" He knelt down as she did the same, unable to continue sitting on that chair, looking down at the others.
She sniffled, rubbing away her tears and crying. "I will try my hardest." Jacques nodded, pulling his shirt off in one fluid motion.
The others winced at the numerous lacerations and slashes and wounds covering the dark, youthful skin. Sanjeevani choked in a breath when he turned his back to her, revealing the injuries. She held her hand over her mouth to cover a little cry of shock and horror. She stood up and hurried to the bathroom, vigorously washing her hands before rushing back to her friend.
She rested both hands flat against the wound-free areas on his back, cooing gently to keep him calm. The young man winced at the sensation and attempted to not shy away from her touch. Sanjeevani hummed a soft lullaby to console him while focusing on her inner light, once again drawing it up and out of her like a string. Her hands began to glow white and gold, radiating smooth pulses of energy like ripples in still water.
The other seven friends who'd never witnessed her at work watched on in fascination and awe as each of the injuries filled up with tissue before the skin knit itself together over the open flesh. The wounds closest to her hands healed much earlier than did the wounds furthest, but within a minute or so, the skin was perfect once more. Clean, unharmed, as if there was never any damage to Jacques' back to begin with.
Sanjeevani pulled her hands away and smiled at her freshly healed friend, who turned around to gaze at her in shock. He stood up and walked over to the full-length mirror and turned his back to it, gazing at the reflection over his shoulder. He nearly screamed in shock.
Instead of screaming, though, he sprinted back to Sanjeevani and threw his arms around her in a tight hug, pulling back to lay kisses to both her cheeks. "God bless you. You did what no doctor could have ever done. Not even scars, my friend! Not even scars! I don't know who created you, who created your powers, but you only deserve good things in this life. Only good things."
Sanjeevani smiled, laughing tearfully through the hug and kisses. Her smile fell when she noticed the others' slack-jawed expressions.
Choking on the ball of tears in her throat while trying to stop the quaking in her hands, she croaked out, "So, what do you think?"
Not a sound existed in her head except the violent drumming of her heart.
Loki understood fear. He'd felt it innumerable times in his life. He knew it when he first felt the hatred of other Asgardians towards him for his childish mischief. He knew it when his father first raised his booming voice against him. He knew it when he first discovered magic's danger. He knew it when he learned of his true heritage. He knew it when war began within him, his Jotun birth fighting his Asgardian upbringing. He knew it when he fell into the cosmos and then proceeded to nearly die at every moment of his life. He knew it when Thanos crushed the life from his throat.
He even knew it when he felt the pull of that Earth witch's magic on his being, slowly drawing him out of oblivion.
Upon his death, he presumed he would go to Helheim. He didn't. Because Hela was dead. He then thought he might go to Valhalla, but Odin didn't accept him, saying Loki's work in the world of the living wasn't yet over. At last, he thought maybe Freya, in her beautiful mercy, might at least accept him into Folkvangr, but the woman laughed, saying the same thing Odin did. He was left to wait in what he called The Middle for what felt like years. For what was actually years.
He waited. And waited. And waited.
And then, as if the universe was being born again, golden light erupted in front of him in a beautiful circle made of sparks. Strange called to him. "Hello, old friend. You can return now. No more mischief, but you are needed here. Perhaps even wanted. Come back to Earth."
Loki had choked on his breath a moment before sprinting into that golden ring, eagerly awaiting the experience of being alive in actual space-time again.
And when he returned to Earth, he landed back where he began. Norway. Where he'd seen his father dissolve into the air like stardust. He knelt down at the edge of the cliff and gazed out at the sea, spreading his arms even as they shook violently. Fear ruled his body for so long, it controlled him even in his joyful times.
But he tried to ignore it. He let himself simply exist and feel. The magic in the environment and all around him slowly brought him back to a more stable state of mind. The magic in the air, the grass under his knees, the scent of the sea in his nose, the clouds floating far above him, the sun shining over it all. He could feel all the magic he'd learned from Frigga to love like his own family. Emerald eyes had closed shut in the rapture of being out in that beautiful world. When they opened again, they briefly illuminated with beautiful verde and golden tones.
He stood up and stretched out his arms and legs before teleporting himself to where he felt the greatest magic signatures. It would likely be where all the Avengers were, knowing Thor and his propensity for showing off his newfound lightning powers.
And his heart clenched with fear once more.
War. Like he'd never seen before. Brutal. Unrelenting. Heartless. Bloody. Inhumane. Horrifying. Like the crimes he committed when he first came to Earth.
Ocean eyes watched on in horror as good and evil alike tore one another apart violently, both yearning for the sweet ambrosia of victory. The Avengers and their fellow heroes fought with vigor and purpose. But Thanos' armies fought with equal vigor and rage. Neither side seemed to have any particular advantage over the other.
A few events stuck to Loki during the battle: Steve Rogers wielding Mjölnir, the arrival of Carol Danvers, the return of the fallen heroes snapped away, and the death of Tony Stark.
Some of these events surprised him. Others, simply, he couldn't forget.
He stood, waiting, hoping for something. He didn't know what made him want to stand there forever and just watch the lives of those significant humans unfold before him, but the thought was compelling.
That Earth witch, Strange, opened a portal and left. In a few minutes, he returned with a young woman at his side.
And then Loki was moving closer.
Her hair stuck to her face and head, black locks wet with dark blood. Dark skin, despite black bruises, like the sheen of coffee beans. Eyes empty but glinting like polished ebony. Hair of flowing obsidian. Features distinct and sharp, but all rounded corners and pain-softened smile lines. A broken porcelain doll, Loki likened her. Soft and sweet and pretty, but shattered.
She spoke so softly, like she was the one nursing others' wounds even while brutally injured. She never raised her voice, clearly trained from childhood to keep quiet if not asked to speak louder. Her smiles weren't happy. Neither were her eyes.
She spoke to Virginia Potts-Stark with sad love and promised to try her best. The older woman seemed to lose all hope.
The girl put her hands on Tony Stark, and they glowed. Loki yearned to know her secret. Inch by inch, Iron Man's body healed. Emerald eyes watched every second of the action from a distance. Magic radiated from her like the light of a candle. Dim, but not unnoticeable. Just bright enough that he could see her gold and white aura shining around her. But as he interfered slightly, trying to read her, his magic somehow got involved, and her gold and white tones began to shimmer with hints of green, the same occurring in her hands.
She wasn't pulling on him, though. Simply doing her work as his magic slowly wove in with hers in tiny increments. He pulled away as soon as he could, not wanting Strange to notice. Who knows what the other Sorcerer would assume about him?
And then, Strange worked with two Infinity Stones and pulled Tony Stark's soul out of somewhere.
The girl got involved then, too. Her hands rested over Stark's chest and as the soul made contact with the body, she pushed. She forced all her powers into this healing, not knowing exactly what she had to do, and in milliseconds, Stark was alive again. The girl passed out promptly, but magic flowed off of her like nothing he'd ever seen in any other human. Strange's magic was specific and momentary and required conscious effort. She…she was weird.
But Loki was not afraid of her.
Rather, he was afraid of consequences. Loki feared the consequences of bringing a girl from another dimension to this one. He was afraid that Strange had just put two of the same person into one dimension and a rift would open in reality at any moment.
But nothing happened. As far as Loki knew, the moment another version of the same person entered a different reality, some kind of catastrophic event should have happened. But all was still and well. Tony Stark was embracing his fellow Avengers and was working with the other heroes to fix up what used to be the Avengers' HQ, and the girl was passed out in Strange's arms as he tried to wake her up and take her somewhere safe to replenish her health.
And so Loki reached forward with his magic and scoured the girl's soul, trying to remember all the details and information he saw. He pulled away a moment later and searched for someone of the same soul, eyes shut to better concentrate.
He found no one. No one at all. His heart dropped into his stomach. He worried that Strange had just torn a rift in space-time enough to kill a person as soon as their self from another dimension entered this world.
But he wasn't sure. So, he did more research. He snuck away, teleporting to a library at the center of New York with a new face to hide his identity. He scoured through government archives of every person alive and dead with the name 'Sanjeevani' in the US. To his surprise and slight amusement, there was a person. The same person, actually. Sanjeevani Rao, born in Atlanta, Georgia in 2004. The discovery of the next facts was not so amusing. Apparently, she'd died from a brutal murder seven years ago when she was walking home from school. Her parents and brother waited all day for her. A missing person case, a five-month-long search, even a massive bounty. Nothing. And to everyone's horror, her body showed up at her high school.
Loki winced. A dark story for such an innocent girl. Unable to read more of the horrifying details, he closed it up, deleted all the history, and teleported back to the compound, this time right in the middle of the Avengers' meeting with the young woman. Strange had left to go take care of rebuilding other parts of the world with the sorcerers while the girl spoke to the heroes.
The Avengers bombarded the young woman with questions that she really couldn't answer. Eventually, he saw an opportunity to enter the conversation and teased Thor as his entrance, only for the giant Asgardian to crush him in a hug. Loki melted a little bit, though he would never say it aloud.
He had missed his brother dearly, so he grasped the opportunity to hug Thor back a moment later, letting the Thunderer squeeze him. He eventually wrangled free, unable to breathe in the too-tight hug. The two shared a moment, which they had never truly done since they were younger.
Thor pleaded with him to stay. Loki wanted to say no. The terror of having to face humanity again after his crimes against them had sent him into a panic. He would never let Thor know, but Loki truly despised being on Earth again, fearful of what they would do to him should they all know he had returned. The heroes would give him a chance, perhaps. But the normal humans would not. They definitely would not. So Loki gave any reason he could to avoid staying near humanity, yearning to go back to his beloved Asgardian people who also hated him. But Thor's hopeful, tearful eyes tore at his heart, and he couldn't bear to refuse the request.
If Thor wanted him here, Thor would protect him and try to keep him here. He would at least try. He didn't even have to do anything undesirable. Except…
Except for the girl. Thor explained how she needed a teacher to help her with her powers. Learn about them. Develop them. Master them. Maybe even expand them. And Loki wanted to. He wanted to see what this girl was made of. He wanted to see what lived in her heart. He wanted to rip her to shreds and build her up again into a warrior of his own making. A sentinel of goodwill and love and healing. His own personal soldier of the light.
He wanted to test her first, though. He wanted to see if she was worth teaching. A teacher is only as good as the student learning from him. So he told Thor to move in order to better see her. Inspect her.
But when the man stepped aside, the girl was missing. The others glanced around the room before focusing in on the elevator, where the girl smiled at them. She waved and blew kisses to Stark and the young child-hero before disappearing behind the steel doors. Loki couldn't help but smile deep inside his mind. She just passed his first test. Not only was she sneaky, but she was also clever. She knew she couldn't handle it all now and was running away. Retreat is only shameful in the eyes of a man who always wins. In the eyes of a true tactician, a retreat is another tool in the shed, another option in battle. She showed him she knew herself enough to understand when to step back and leave.
So he stopped them. He told them not to follow her. He did make up the part about her getting angrier and more rebellious. She was a broken girl who just lost her family's love. She would crave any kind of parental treatment she could get. She would come back if they asked her to.
But that's not what she needed. She needed to fix herself and get into the right state of mind. Hero work is taxing. It is a strain on the mind, body, and soul. To be ready for that work, she had to be willing to break her mind, body, and soul over and over until she was as perfect as possible. She had to be strong and unmoving in the face of adversity. For that, she had to face adversity first. So he let her leave. He wanted her to struggle.
He wanted her to come to him, gleaming scraps of iron and silver and gold, so that he could melt her down and forge a new sword from her broken pieces.
Of course, he couldn't let her get stuck in the basic processes of bureaucracy, which is why he gave her everything she needed to reach her destination without worry. The moment he entered his room to sleep for the night, he sat on the ground and meditated, ensuring that every part of her journey went as needed.
He wanted her broken, not incinerated. Besides. You can make something from scraps or pieces, but you can't make something from ashes and atoms.
And so, he let her leave. She would come back when she was ready. He'd have to wait. (He hated waiting.)
Too bad he was still worried about her. His plans didn't always work out, and he did worry that this plan would be one of those.
But he didn't have time to worry. He had to fix the Earth. He folded back his sleeves and rubbed his face before returning to his files and papers and diagrams and screens. Was it a lot of work? Yes. Did he love it? Absolutely. It felt like ruling Asgard, but with more hands-on activities.
What a mess Earth was in. Good thing Loki had returned to sweep up the dirt and begin cleaning up.
As Loki once more drowned himself in his duties and responsibilities for the day, Stephen Strange worked up the courage to finally do the dream communication ritual Loki had explained to him.
He had finally learned enough about the dream world that his anxiety about entering an odd new realm lessened greatly. He was still unsure, but being able to see the kid would be worth the risk of entering the dream world. He sighed while closing the book he'd been reading. He really just had to call her by her name. Names have power. It's just better (and more damn respectful) to use her name.
That night, he climbed into bed with the herb and necklace at his bedside. He dropped the herb into a tall glass of water and watched as the wide leaves dissolved like aspirin. He drank the whole thing in one go, gulping down the tart liquid like a dehydrated man seeing water for the first time. He slipped the necklace over his head and lied down on the soft cotton sheets, pressing his head against the pillow.
As soon as he closed his eyes and allowed sleep to take him, he felt his mind wander away. Strings of magic pulled at him, drawing his soul away from the current reality into a different one.
When he awakened again, he found himself in a strange new place with rivers as the earth and bubbles as the sky. He treaded lightly, taking care to not step on anything dangerous-looking.
His eyes spotted some kind of bright light illuminating a large forest-like area a few yards away. As he walked, the yards turned into miles. When he called out to the light, the distance suddenly lessened, becoming only feet. He continued walking, aquamarine eyes zeroing in on the form of the light. He gasped at the sight.
Sanjeevani, the young, inexperienced heroine she is, stood in the dream realm in shock and terror, skin blazing with light as if she were the sun.
He kept calling to her. She didn't hear him. She glowed brighter as her crying became more audible to him. He winced at the loud sobs and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. She didn't move, continuing to cry terribly. And like the flip of a switch, she whipped around, glanced at his face, and screamed louder than he thought humanly possible.
"Please, guys. If you're quiet any longer, I might lose my mind," she begged.
Timothy started, "Um. Look. Uh. We…we don't understand you. We can't even imagine comprehending what just happened. But…you're still our friend. You still care for us, don't you?"
A weak nod, hopeful wet eyes, and quivering lips. "More than anything in my life."
Elizabeth smiled. "Then you're still ours. Still our dear friend."
A tense pause. The thumping of terrified hearts. The shallow breathing of nervous lungs. The slow, baleful stares of nine youths. One last moment of hesitation before the eight surrounded the singular, and they all clung to one another. Sobs of relief from the singular as the eight console her tears and cajole her to smile, all gentle and soft and smooth.
Ahmed bundled her up into his arms and kept her wrapped tightly in his embrace as the others huddled around them.
Another few moments spent in beloved company and tight hugs.
Release and relief flooded the room, rushing through exhausted hearts. The soft smiles of a story's resolution fill their faces with childish joy. Kisses are exchanged, and hugs are offered and accepted. Eyes shine with love, and faces are observed with scientific adoration and impossible affection.
Sanjeevani curled against Ahmed's side and smiled up at him, tears still gently streaking down her face. "Thank you for bringing them into my life."
He laughed warmly, reaching a thumb down to wipe away the tears. "You are very welcome."
Dark eyes fluttered shut as he leaned down to kiss her forehead with loving hesitation. "I'm glad you're here with us. I'm glad you trust us. There's nothing more that we can ask."
She huffed, pulling back with a grin. "Incorrect. I can heal all of you. No worries about that. It's part of me anyways, and I do not want to hear of you guys getting hurt when I can heal you."
Timothy groaned loudly. "I just realized. You weren't talking about your period earlier, were you?"
A playful smirk and a shrug of bare shoulders. "You tell me."
Alvin gaped, only just having understood what the older man was referring to. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I didn't. I didn't realize that-"
She laughed, rolling her eyes. "The way we talked, your assumption is understandable. But yeah. I was talking about my powers. Because they come from me, I need to eat a lot to make up for the loss of energy. It's also why I get super, super cold really quick. My energy goes mainly into healing if I'm focused on that at a certain moment, so if I borrow your blankets or jackets for a long time, please don't be mad."
"More like eternally borrow our clothes. Aka stealing. It's fine. Just give them back at some point before winter," grumbled Olivia.
Sanjeevani pouted. "But it's even colder at that time of year!"
Ahmed rolled his eyes. "I'll get you a heated blanket, you child."
A happy little giggle and a kiss to a bearded cheek. "Thank youuu!"
"Oh, hush, you. Absolutely spoiled, you are." He wouldn't admit it, but treating her like his idiot sister who he loved more than anyone was the best part of their friendship. She snorted, leaning back into his torso.
"You love me for it. Besides, whose fault is that?"
Ahmed sighed, nodding reluctantly. "I suppose it is mine. But probably not. You're terrible."
Sonia laughed loudly. "You two are so adorable. Like two siblings."
Sanjeevani grinned widely up at her tall friend, relishing in his expression of disdain and horror mixed with a pinch of exasperation. "I would rather burn for eternity than be related to this one," he huffed.
She snorted, a smirk curling onto her lips when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders upon her leaning against him. "Liar, liar."
He put a hand over her mouth and smiled charmingly at the others, all pearly teeth and sunshine. "I propose that we get to the roof and make her dance for us."
Timothy grinned evilly. "Here, here!"
Elizabeth raised her hand up high, along with Olivia and Helen. Alvin shrugged and nodded, clearly trying to appear nonchalant about the whole issue even as curiosity sparked secretly in his eyes.
Sonia threw both arms up alongside Jacques, who snickered at Sanjeevani's grumpy groan. She had covered her face to hide from her friends' eyes and avoid looking at their faces.
"I certainly agree. Now." He gently pushed his embarrassed friend forward so he could look her in the face. Steady, veiny hands grasped shivering wrists and pulled her face free. Two sets of ebony eyes met with such intensity that four of the occupants in the room shivered subconsciously. "Will you dance for us? It is your art. It is your craft. We won't force it if you don't want to."
A confused stare, a hesitant bite of the lip, and a soft hum of recognition later, and Sanjeevani agreed, smiling up at her darling friend. "Yeah. If there's anyone worth dancing for, it's you guys."
Ahmed beamed, leaning down to kiss her forehead again before letting go of her hands.
With a squeal of terror and disdain, she tried to get away as Helen pounced on her, rubbing their cheeks together. "Awww, you both are sooo cuuuute!" She giggled, kissing the other woman's cheek while Sanjeevani tried to burrow into Ahmed to avoid her screaming friend.
"HELEN, LEAVE ME ALONE. WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER TROJAN WAR RIGHT NOW."
Everyone burst into laughter at the petrified response from their weird super-friend.
Even Helen died of laughter while draped over the dark-haired woman. They all eventually stood up, Sanjeevani still curled into Ahmed's side as they walked up to the roof. Timothy walked backward in front of them, eyes wide and smile hopeful. "So uh. Were you supposed to be in the Avengers?"
Sanjeevani grinned. "Basically? Yeah. They wanted me to join and help out in missions. But…"
Olivia frowned, looping her elbow with the younger woman's free arm. "If you could join, why didn't you? They're such a prestigious, powerful group. You would have had things so great, sweetie."
She smiled, patting Olivia's hand. "My parents had just disowned me. I wasn't ready. My heart was completely broken. I was broken. I couldn't cope. I could barely pull myself to bring back Mr. Stark. I couldn't go into missions and save lives when I lost everything I ever loved. It destroyed me, that day. So I ran. I got away. I got as far as possible so I could be sad without them disturbing me or getting in my way or trying to bring me back there. Europe was as far as I could go while still feeling safe."
Dark eyes grew distant, gazing at the floor emptily but with such nostalgia that even Olivia's heart ached for her friend. "I miss my old life so much. My family. My friends. But I know they're better off without me."
Ahmed stopped, and Sanjeevani was yanked back because she still walked forward. The two met eyes, the young woman frowning deeply at her friend's behavior. "Ahmed? Buddy, what's going on?"
"Why are you lying to us?"
"What?"
He sighed, pulling her forward. "You still miss them. You still want them to miss you. Sanjeevani, you don't need to hide your sadness from us. We have all been in your situation at least once. We understand your pain. Don't hide your suffering when we've lived it too."
She shook her head, curling her arms around his neck in a tired hug. "I'm not hiding my feelings for you guys' sake, Ahmed. I'm hiding them for me. Because if I think that my old loved ones don't care how about me, I won't be so hurt and heartbroken and homesick. Basically, it's not real if I don't think about it. It's all easier that way. Maybe I'll go back once I've made peace with literally everything, but I'm not ready to face that aspect of my new reality. Not yet."
He sighed and rubbed her back, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple while they hugged. "Oh, my dear friend. I understand. We won't force that conversation." He pulled back a little and rubbed away the tears rising in her eyes. "Let's go watch you dance. But please, don't fall over the edge. I don't want to deal with the paperwork of blood on the sidewalk," he joked.
She snickered, bobbing her head in agreement before letting go of his neck and instead taking his elbow. She rested her chin against the curve of his shoulder, the dim fluorescent lights once again illuminating her smile. "You ready to keep going?"
He grinned. "Of course."
Elizabeth hooked her elbow with Sanjeevani's elbow, smiling warmly. "Just saying, you two would be super cute together."
She shook her head, laughing just a little too hard. Ahmed groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Oh God, no. Allah have mercy. That would be a punishment incapable of comprehending. This woman is better as a friend than a romantic partner. Have you heard her jokes? Have you seen her eat? Horrendous. As if a beast has possessed her. I'm fine the way I am, thank you."
Sanjeevani pouted. "I was just gonna say you're really nice and charming and helpful and not too bad looking, and that you're not my type, but okay. If that's how you wanna do this, fine. He's a total jerk. Completely heartless. No comprehension of social cues of fashion, and he acts like an old man all the time."
Ahmed laughed loudly, throwing an arm around her shoulders to keep his balance. "You're so heartless."
"Says you, old man."
They all trudged up the stairs, almost collapsing once they reached the door that opened out to the roof. The nine youths stepped into the crisp air quietly, all collectively moving towards the center of the space. They all laid their jackets and scarves down on the ground so they wouldn't have to sit on concrete.
They sat in a small circle, laughing and making jokes about how quickly they got tired climbing up a few flights of stairs.
Silence slowly blanketed the group, who all kind of turned to Sanjeevani with expectant eyes and encouraging smiles. "So. Are you going to dance?"
She rolled her eyes. "I already said I would." She carefully came to her feet and removed her shoes.
"Wait, don't take off your shoes! It's concrete. You can't dance barefoot!" exclaimed Helen.
"Actually, that's how it's supposed to be done. Wearing shoes while dancing is disrespectful to the stage, the musicians, and the audience. You're basically trampling the clean space of performance with dirt. Besides, you can't wear shoes and dance Indian classical effectively. We are a lot more active than other dance forms," Sanjeevani explained calmly. She took a few steps away from the group, praying silently for a few moments before readying herself for the performance.
Timothy pointed out, "Wait, there's no music! Don't you need music?"
She paused. "Uh. If you guys want. I always dance without music, but if you want me to dance to something specifically, you can pick something out."
Ahmed grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened YouTube, picking a song from some Indian movie that his mother loves a lot. "Is this okay?"
Sanjeevani stopped to listen to the music for a moment, and her face split into a big grin. "I know this song! I've performed it before! Yeah, this is perfect."
She sighed and nodded, tying her hair up in a tight braid before getting ready to dance. "Push it back to the beginning. Only hit play when I say so." She stood with the left leg bent and the right leg straight, left hand gently curved around the left hip as her right hand concealing her face while she gazed down at the ground in front of her left foot.
"Play."
Everyone observed her movements quietly, all trying to understand the music in their ears and the dance happening before them.
Sanjeevani slowly moved her limbs down when the tinkling sound of anklets began in the song, and she walked forward, eyes far more intense than any of her friends had ever seen. She smiled almost as if sharing a secret with all of them, winking playfully right before moving into a series of rapid spins as soon as the music sped up.
As soon as the percussion stopped and only the singing of a velvet voice and soft chattering of anklets remained, she stopped moving as well, only making movement when the percussion resumed.
With every new phrase, she would move her arms and hands and change her facial expressions, quickly moving her feet to match the gentle patter of the drums in the background.
The song went on for more than four minutes. Each word and phrase bringing new vigor to the dancer's motion and performance.
They all winced at the sight of her feet hitting the concrete with almost inhuman strength.
Timothy and Elizabeth watched with quiet fascination. They'd never seen any kind of dance similar to this. Maybe the dances from Spain like flamenco, but it wasn't nearly as intense as Sanjeevani's motions. Helen and Olivia just grinned as they observed her bright facial expressions, ebony skin almost glowing under the full moon above them all.
Ahmed watched her with a little amusement and mostly respect, knowing the difficulty of her craft. After all, his own sister was a dancer. He knew they worked hard to perfect performances.
Sonia and Jacques were having more fun than the others, clapping in the right places and watching her with a kind of interest and awe that brought true elation to the young woman's heart. She'd never had such wonderful audience members before.
Alvin, he had a similar reaction. He was mostly curious, partly concerned, and quite awed at the complex and fast movements of the dance. At the end of the song, Sanjeevani did the last few spins and finished her performance by facing them all with her arms outstretched, legs pressed together, and face turned up to the sky.
Panting like she'd just run a marathon, Sanjeevani grinned at her friends. "What do you guys think? Was it good? What are your thoughts, opinions?"
Ahmed beamed, clapping loudly. "That was phenomenal."
She bowed, laughing. "Thanks."
Multiple compliments popped up after that. She grinned and sat down with the group again. Her eyes fell on the far-too-red Alvin. "You okay, buddy? Your face is bright pink."
He nodded. "I'm not very used to being outside so any mild heat or cold makes my skin turn red," he admitted. She laughed a little and nodded, patting his shoulder.
"I don't think I can fix that. Sorry!" the young woman teased. Alvin chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.
Helen squeaked suddenly, drawing everyone's eyes to her.
"What is it now, Helen?" groaned Olivia.
The girl whimpered, pointing to Sanjeevani's bloodied, almost mangled feet. "That!"
"Oh, that's no big deal. It'll heal on its own. Give it a little while. I've had worse than some scratches and blood." Sanjeevani didn't appear at all concerned that she jammed out so hard to the song that her feet bled.
Alvin choked. "Worse?!"
"Bro, I dislocated four bones in both my feet one time. This is baby shit."
Helen gagged, only calming down when Sanjeevani forcefully healed her foot again, forcing her body's natural repair mechanisms to go into overdrive. Because of the healing, her skin started glowing again, but the light appeared more prominent due to the darkness of the night sky surrounding them.
"You're like the sun at nighttime. How are you going to be a superhero if you glow every time you use your powers? You'll give yourself away!" criticized Elizabeth.
Sanjeevani rolled her eyes. "Sis, relax. I'll get a costume or make a costume that doesn't let any light through. There's that cool new material that's so black that it drains light. I'll probably use that and stitch white cloth over it so the outside of the costume is white, but my shit won't glow."
Ahmed sighed. "It's quite an expensive material."
She grinned. "I'm not book smart, but I can work my way around job stuff, Ahmed. I'll manage."
Helen looked at her worriedly, asking with a quivering voice and quivering chin, "Aren't you scared? People are really bad. They might hurt you. And you need lots of food, so what if you can't bring any? And what if you can't heal someone?"
Sanjeevani scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her clearly concerned friend. "Helen, really. You're worrying too much. Of course I'm scared. But I can't sit and do nothing when I can help people. That's what being a hero means. People are bad. But they're usually bad for a reason, so we need to help them if we can. If not, we need to bring them to justice and then help that way. Even if they hurt me, I'll get better. I'll keep going. If I can't bring any, I'll eat what I can. Whatever will give me calories. Hell, I've downed a huge bottle of vodka just for energy. I can do that again. And just because I might not be able to heal someone doesn't mean I shouldn't at least try, right?"
Ahmed smiled, wondering to himself when his silly friend became a philosopher, or pep-talker, or whatever. He was usually the one teaching her. Giving her guidance and information and support. When did their roles change?
His fellow Indian smiled warmly and calmed down her fretful young friend.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Your powers are from a mutation? How did you work with Dr. Strange and his magic stuff, then?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, the Infinity Stones aren't magic either, but Strange could use them. How am I supposed to know the specifics? And besides, all powers need training. Including mine, which are pretty reflexive. Speaking of, I need a place to practice and stuff."
Ahmed volunteered an idea. "Basement. There's plenty of ventilation, but no one goes down there because they think it's creepy and haunted."
"Why would you suggest that to me?!"
Timothy sighed. "All of you hush. Let's just go back down and sleep. We'll need the rest. Come on."
From his forceful decision, everyone lugged themselves up from the concrete and trudged down cement stairs, all yawning softly and holding onto each other.
Sleep came quickly once everyone settled in Sanjeevani's room. No one had any inclination to return to their own places, so they silently bundled up with comforters and blankets and the many pillows stocked under the bed. The couples slept on the couches, the siblings slept on one bed, and everyone else just managed to curl up wherever they wanted.
Unfortunately, everyone woke up to their female superhuman friend crying and screaming in her sleep. She only explained herself once morning arrived and melted away her fears.