"Sanjeevani, why the hell are you screaming?!", "What's going on?!", "It's five in the morning!" came the exhausted exclamations of the young woman's friends.
The recent adult sat up and started sobbing, putting her face in her hands. At that motion, her new best friend rushed to her side and took her hands, cradling her in massive arms. Ahmed sighed and cooed at her, trying to lull the girl into calmness again. "Slow down, sweetie. Calm down, sweetheart. Now. Tell me and the others what's wrong. What happened?"
Sniffling and rubbing at the tip of her nose, Sanjeevani replied tearfully, "Doctor Strange is dead."
The youths all collectively choked on their spit and stared at their female super-powered companion in shock. They each looked at one another and turned back to the sobbing teen.
"Angie, what are you talking about?" Sonia probed hesitantly.
Sanjeevani pulled away from Ahmed and sat up on the edge of the bed, gazing at her new family with heartache bright in his eyes. "Remember how I said Doctor Strange brought me to this dimension? I saw him in my dreams. We were in this really weird place. I don't know what happened, but he looked like he didn't belong there. I couldn't feel his life force…he's dead."
Ahmed frowned, pushing himself up and onto a chair at the desk nearest to him. "That doesn't sound right. Dreams work differently from real life, I'm pretty sure. And I don't know if you can sense people's life force through dreams."
With a downward gaze, Sanjeevani bit her lip. "But it felt so real…"
He tapped his lips and hummed, eyes wandering towards the ceiling as he worked through how to carefully word his statement to his emotionally sensitive friend. "I don't think it's right to trust everything we see in a dream. Sure, they may indicate something about our real-life that our subconscious wanted to tell us but couldn't find any proper way to do it. But they're not an end-all-be-all kind of thing. They happen without our control unless you can lucid dream."
"Oh…" her already dim eyes grew dimmer still. Recognizing the heaviness in her friend's heart, Olivia stepped over and wrapped both arms around the grieving girl.
"Okay, you two. Let's relax. I'm sure it was some kind of nightmare that may have stemmed from something you remembered about him or his safety subconsciously," Olivia soothed. With a huff and a squint, the young woman glowered at Ahmed, who smiled sheepishly. "We don't know if the death part is real or fake, but we can always check on the news. I'm sure they'd report about the death of such a famed neurosurgeon."
Breathing rate more balanced now, Sanjeevani nodded, reaching for the television remote on her bedside table. She switched on the TV and moved to the most accurate news channel. The group watched the screen and their friend with delicate deliberation: teeth biting at lips, fingers picking at frayed fibers, and toes digging into the cheap carpet of the floor. They had to make sure she wouldn't freak out if it was true that the Sorcerer Supreme really did die, for the sake of her own mental health.
Moments of stress seemed to follow Sanjeevani like a hive of angry bees. You run and run and run, and when you think the threat shows up within seconds. has ended, it returns with more wrath than ever before. The friends experienced more concern for her than for themselves. Having lived harsh lives, they knew how to handle their emotional toll. But their newest companion had very little experience with such struggles and was more prone to trauma from the gentleness of her heart. And anything that hurt her heart would hurt them the same way. Friends of a feather stick together.
When nothing about Doctor Strange popped up, the youths lunged for their phones while Sanjeevani sat and panicked, clutching her head and covering her ears with both hands. She rocked back and forth, trying to keep out the bad thoughts. Not like it would work, though. They followed her everywhere.
Olivia smiled softly and pulled her friend's hands away and forced her to look down at the phone. "He's fine. Still leading missions to fix parts of the world. He's not dead, Angie. Okay? He's perfectly safe. Relax."
Sanjeevani, again, slowed down and breathed. "Whoa. Okay. Sorry, guys…" She rubbed her face and sighed. "It's been a lot to deal with." Everyone knew exactly what she meant. "I just couldn't handle losing someone else. Losing another adult figure in my life." They nodded, and she smiled, standing up to stretch. "Anyways, I'm sure we all need to get ready. I certainly don't have enough toothbrushes for all of y'all, so you might want to head back to your rooms. Let's get together again for lunch, okay?"
Groaning, her friends all stood and stretched to get ready for departure. Sonia walked closer and leaned entirely against the shorter girl, resting her head on the healer's shoulder. "I'm too tired. Carry me."
Laughing, the other woman refused. "That's what Jacques is for. Besides, I need to brush my teeth and shower. I've sweated through my clothes, sis."
Rolling their eyes from exhaustion and exasperation, the other eight people funneled out of the room, each going their separate ways to freshen up and get ready for the day. Sure, it was five in the morning, but they were too alert to go back to sleep. Sanjeevani twisted around a few times to crack her back and quickly hurried into the bathroom, ready to peel off her sweat-dampened clothes and jump into the shower.
All clean and squeaky after having taken her sweet time shaving, showering, and shivering after the water went cold, Sanjeevani clothed herself and grabbed up her backpack. She tossed in everything she would need, including her journal with her business plans, her dance clothes, her makeup and jewelry, a few water bottles, and a few more necessary items. She rushed down to the cafeteria, smiling at the sight of Ahmed waiting at the elevator for her again. With a laugh, the two hooked elbows and ran for the table their friends occupied. "Angie, why do you have your backpack with you?" wondered Elizabeth. "Please tell me you're not going on the run again," she pleaded.
The girl laughed. "No, no. Not at all. I'm off to start looking for a job. I know what I want to do, but I need to work for someone before I set up my own dance school. Hard to make it in dance out of nowhere with no place to teach. So, if I work at someone else's school for a while, I can get into the industry and work my way up to start my own school."
Jacques sighed in relief and rolled his eyes. "Must you always give us a heart attack?" He chuckled at his friend's childish shrug, regretless giggle, and excited sprint for the food lines.
The eight glanced at one another. Alvin verbalized their shared thought: "This girl is gonna give us unending headaches."
Sanjeevani returned with a mountain of food and a glass of milk taller than her head. She sat down, at first ignoring her friends' pointed looks. When they didn't stop, she stopped eating and glanced around the table. "What?"
Elizabeth and Timothy simultaneously smacked their foreheads onto the table.
Helen sighed. "Seriously. Where does all that food go?"
The young pre-heroine rolled her eyes. "Not to my waist, that's for sure. I got called a toothpick for the past four years."
With a smack to Ahmed's arm to make him sit in her seat, Olivia plopped down beside her weirdest friend and poked her cheek. "But seriously. How can you eat that much? It's so much food!"
Sanjeevani grumbled. "Whatever, Olivia. You basically eat rabbit food, but you don't hear me calling you 'Easter Bunny'."
"Oooooooooh!"
She laughed and smirked at her pouting friend, tossing an arm around the other woman. "That's what you get. Now, hush and go get yourself a plate. I could hear your stomach rumbling all the way from my room," she joked.
The others stood and left to bring back some food for themselves while she sat pensively and ate in silence. She needed that moment of peace, honestly.
When everyone returned, she put on the happy face and continued the usual behavior.
"So where's this dance school? Mind if we join you?" Timothy mumbled through a mouth full of over-easy eggs.
She laughed. "Hell no. This is just to see if they'll even allow me to apply. Possibly do a little performance as an audition. This is by no means a planned trip to check out my new office."
Alvin nodded slowly, chewing on a piece of bacon thoughtfully before asking, "Is it hard to get a job as a dance teacher? You'd think with your extensive experience, people would be thrilled to have you instruct them."
Sanjeevani hummed over her cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal. "Well, it's not like people know me here. I'm not exactly a household name in this dimension. So I gotta work my way up and try to avoid telling people my interdimensional secret. But then again, people are nosy and may find out through other means, so I'll just have to see what happens and leave it all to Fate."
"Preach, sister," Jacques agreed emphatically, pumping a fist up into the air. "Life is hard, and we're all lost. Whatever happens, happens."
She giggled and nodded. "For sure."
Helen rolled her eyes. "You guys are crazy."
After a high-energy breakfast, the newest member of the nine hurried out of the building, bidding her friends goodbye before beginning the journey to the dance school she found. Yeah, this wasn't her original plan, but nothing's perfect. There's always something to improve on.
Sanjeevani strolled happily down the sidewalk, making sure to mentally practice some of the little French she knew so she wouldn't encounter any crises during the walk to the dance school. She smiled and waved to a few kids who noticed her and waved hello. Damn, she missed her little brother. Her smile dimmed as her journey resumed after the brief reprieve. But she couldn't have him here with her. She could barely survive at the moment. She would probably suffer from extreme stress if he were with her. And frankly, there was no way to bring him here. She didn't even know how Strange found her.
She hummed a happy little tune to distract herself from the heartache and looked around, admiring the beautiful springtime flora in full bloom around her. Flowering trees lining the roads, bushes of roses blanketing the parks, even petals flying through the air and brushing past her cheeks.
Thump!
The young woman grunted when she made impact with something, or rather, someone. She yelped upon crashing to the floor, a heavy mass landing on top of her. "Hey! What's your deal?! Arrête ça!"
Her eyes flew up towards the source of the weight, first glaring with frustration before softening with confusion and fear.
A young man around her age lay on top of her, almost unconscious. Short platinum hair waving lightly in the wind, silver eyes fluttering closed, pale skin red all over from severe sunburns and other injuries. He looked like if Jack Frost put on gray-colored contact lenses. But that was beside the point.
This man should have died. She knew so just based on the severity of his head trauma and low blood pressure. In fact, she realized with horror, he was dying at that very moment.
With a rush of hyper-concentrated adrenaline, she pushed the man off, lifted him up into her arms, and sprinted away at top-speed to the most secluded place she could find, which ended up being an abandoned school near the outskirts of downtown Paris.
She gently laid him down on a patch of soft grass with a hand under his head to cushion his gentle drop onto the ground. The young man's eyes fluttered again before closing completely, his breaths growing more shallow with each passing minute. "Hey, buddy! Wake up! Are you okay?!" Sanjeevani asked in a panic. After two minutes of silence from the man, she stood and looked around, trying to check for any onlookers. Upon seeing no one, she placed one hand on the youth's face and the other into her backpack to pull out a black scarf. She laid it in multiple layers on top of her hand so the glow wouldn't draw any attention before tucking the other hand under the opaque fabric.
With an intake of air and a slow sigh, Sanjeevani closed her eyes and focused on the inner light again, this time pulling it forward out of her heart rather than up and out of her body like usual. She took a few shaky breaths and tried to press the light into his body and fix the damage done to his skin, brain, and heart. She scanned over his internals one more time to check that she addressed all issues, and then pulled her hands away.
The wind blew hard in her face and made her hair almost fly out of its loose, wet braid. In response to the rush of the breeze over his hair, the young man sat up quickly, coughing and gasping for air. When he noticed her, he fell backwards, scrambling to avoid her.
Sanjeevani smiled warmly and held her hands up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. It's alright, buddy. Slow. It's okay. You're safe. Don't worry."
In a heavy accent, possibly German or Swedish in origin, the man snarled at her, steely silver irises almost indistinguishable from the whites of his eyes. He gazed down at his body and rubbed at his face and chest, as if feeling for any wounds, before whipping his head back up to glare at her. "Who are you, and what did you do to me?!"
Her lips pulled back into a nervous frown, and she tried her hardest to respond without stuttering. "Oh, um, you actually crashed into me a few minutes ago. I thought you just didn't watch where you were going and bumped into me. But then, I saw you were almost unconscious and brought you here. I'm really good at first aid, so I helped you out."
His eyes narrowed, and without a pause, he turned and pulled off his cottony blue T-shirt, reaching both hands back to touch his shoulders and neck. He spun around again and glowered at the young heroine-to-be. "Is that so? I didn't know first aid could heal sunburns without supernatural intervention within minutes." Sanjeevani was almost too distracted by his muscular physique and terrifying scars to reply to him.
She flushed red through her dark cocoa skin and bit her lip, unable to peel her eyes away from his broad shoulders and angular collarbones. "Well, uh, the thing is…"
She yelped when the young man rushed forward and grabbed her wrist, her dark eyes now wide with terror. This was a twist she had not anticipated. He growled lowly, lips pulled back in a dangerous sneer, "Who are you, and what did you do to me? The truth this time."
"Okay, okay, okay. Slow down. Calm down. I'll tell you everything. But first, you have to let go and promise me you won't get mad or tell anyone what I'm about to tell you," she declared as confidently as she could through her petrified shivering. She really hoped he couldn't see how scared she felt, even though that was unlikely.
With a raised eyebrow and a tilt of the head, the young man released her and sat across from her with his legs crossed, bearing an expression like that of a puppy watching a human do something stupid. "Very well."
Sighing, she pulled her hands away and made sure to put the scarf back in her backpack and toss the whole bag over her shoulders before responding. "Okay. My name is Sanjeevani Rao. I'm nineteen years old. I've learned classical Indian dance forms since I was four years old. I recently learned that I have healing powers, and I used those to help you because I saw you had a lot of sunburns and head trauma and heart issues."
The young man hummed and looked at her carefully before taking the time to pronounce her name and gauge how it felt in his mouth. "Sanjeevani," he mused. "A peculiar name. It's from the Hindu epic called the Ramayana, right?"
Her eyes widened. Not many people knew the religious significance of her name, but this man clearly did. Who even was he? "Uh, yeah. That's right. It's the plant that the rishi used to save Laxman when he'd been struck down in battle. It can bring people back to life."
He chuckled lowly, a stark contrast to the frightening individual she'd witnessed grabbing her wrist and glaring at her a moment ago. "Is it rude to ask if you gave yourself that name after learning of your powers?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's not rude to ask, but it's definitely not true. I was given that name by my parents. They didn't know I had these powers until a few weeks ago. It was a lot of drama that I don't want to talk about." The two said nothing for a few moments until it was too much for the young woman. "Okay, can you please put your shirt back on? This is getting really uncomfortable," she begged.
With a laugh, the man pulled his T-shirt over his head, nodding and apologizing profusely for his actions of the last few minutes. "I'm truly very sorry for that, though. I was just in a panic. I don't know who to trust or not trust."
Sanjeevani sighed. "Yeah, well…I understand that on a personal level. Would you like some water? I'm sure you're dehydrated. Also, what's your name?"
He frowned, scratching the back of his head. "Yes, please. I haven't eaten properly or had enough water in a while. And I know you told me your real name, but…I don't know if it's in my best interest to tell you my real name, sorry."
"Well, that's not fair," she grumbled while retrieving a water bottle from her backpack and handing it to him. "Truth for truth, man. Come on."
With a groan, the young man nodded and finished off the water before responding. "Fine. Fine. Alright. Seeing you pout makes me feel guilty," he admitted. With a victorious grin and a childish giggle, Sanjeevani watched his face carefully. He huffed. "So impatient." Rolling his eyes, he held a strong hand out to her. "Hello, Sanjeevani. My name's Havardr. Nice to meet you."
She beamed, shaking his hand in earnest. "Nice to meet you too, Havardr. What does your name mean?"
He laughed and gently retracted his palm from her grasp. "It means 'high guard'. Like great protector or guardian."
"Whoaaaa! That's so cool! I guess we both have funky names, huh?" she wondered aloud. He grinned.
"I suppose we do. But funky is a weird word. I don't like it."
She giggled. "What about it is so bad?"
He scrunched his nose and rubbed it, then reaching down to pull on the hem of his T-shirt and rake a fingernail on the inside stitches repeatedly. "Just feels weird in my mouth." Havardr paused and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "So what's a girl like you doing wandering around alone?"
"Fair enough." She could understand that. She definitely hated a few random words herself. Zesty was one of them. Oh, and masquerading. Those two were really weird to her. "Hmm? Oh, I'm off to get a job as an instructor at a classical dance school in the city." Sanjeevani bit her lip when she realized how far away from the center of Paris she was. "But, I think I've strayed too far from the inner city. I've got my phone and GPS, but I don't know this area."
Her funky name buddy rubbed his face with both hands before pulling his fingers through his hair and asking awkwardly, "Would you like me to walk you to the school? I'm not really doing anything else today, and I definitely would not want to let a young woman walk all alone where so many weirdos hang out. Of course, you don't have to say yes. Just an offer."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I barely know you. What if you are one of the weirdos?"
Havardr pursed both lips and looked away, scratching at the skin on the inside of his wrist. His eyebrows scrunched together as heavenly eyes like the first storm clouds narrowed their focus onto the ground. "Oh…" came his quiet murmur. "Sorry. Didn't mean to-"
Sanjeevani grinned, punching his arm playfully. "I'm kidding, man." Havardr peeked up to gaze at her again. She hummed, nodding in agreement with herself. "You seem like a really nice guy, albeit a little confused. I'd love the escort there. To be honest, I'm a huge scaredy-cat, but I put on a brave face just so I don't get hurt," she admitted. When he returned his eyes to her, she smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Just a defense mechanism. Learned it from school. Kids are mean when you look different from them." Elementary school was rough because of her looks. Middle school was rough because of her knowledge (or lack thereof). High school was rough because of her parents. College was rough because of her own lack of sufficient preparation from high school. It was a huge improvement in terms of her home situation, but not by much.
Havardr stood excitedly and reached a hand out to her, bright smile almost blinding her. Sanjeevani could feel her heart melt at the sight of him bouncing on the balls of his feet from hopeful anticipation. She'd never met anyone so thrilled to merely take a walk with her. "Well, I'd say you don't need to be afraid around me, but I think I already spooked you earlier. Sorry," Havardr resigned. She laughed when taking his hand and letting him pull her up.
"Yeah, that chance is gone. But I understand you were just scared. Shall we?"
He nodded. "Of course." He held an elbow out like Ahmed always did, and she couldn't help but giggle while taking it.
"My best friend does this for me all the time. He's just like you. A real gentleman."
A single black eyebrow raised. "A gentleman."
Sanjeevani sighed. "Okay, well, maybe a bit more of a gentleman than you were these past ten minutes, but you're not that bad."
He smirked. "Why thank you, miss. I appreciate it."
She covered her mouth with her one hand while laughing. "Oh, you are very welcome, good sir. Tell me, from where dost thou hail?"
Havardr closed up in seconds, free hand shoved into his jeans pocket and eyes avoiding hers. "A place that was cruel to me. And I am never going back." Bitterness tainted the smooth flow of his words, tears rising to his lower eyelids. She could empathize with that reaction.
Clearly, a sensitive topic. Sanjeevani walked a little closer and gently squeezed the part of his arm just above his elbow with both hands. "So you're a runaway? Me too."
His eyes shot wide open, and he turned to her quickly. "You? But…"
She smiled. "But what?"
"But…you're so…" He floundered for a moment or two.
"I'm so…?" she prompted.
"You're so homely and comforting and grounded in reality and self-assured. A people person. You don't seem like the type to run away from home."
Sanjeevani nodded, eyes trained on the horizon as they walked arm-in-arm. "Yeah. I know. Just like you, I came from a place that hurt me. And I'm also never going back. Not that I can or would want to."
Her new friend observed her in silence. "Well, it looks like we have more in common than we realize."
She smiled softly. "Indeed. Uh, I know you mentioned you're on the run and really hungry, but I live in this asylum-seeker shelter in the city, and they always have a lot of food to go around. They keep every food item that remains, and then they cook some more at night. They give all that food to the homeless folks. Would you like to come with me there so you can get a hot meal for the night, if not a place to stay?"
Havardr squeezed her hand gently and shook his head, smiling. "Can't. That's just not my place to be, Sanjeevani. But thank you for the offer. Incredibly kind of you."
Her face flushed a light pink, invisible under her skin, and she laughed sheepishly. "Well, ya know. Costs nothing to be kind." This was dangerous business, talking to this man. Not because of who he was, but because he had such an incredible effect on her already. What kind of insane person gets a crush on someone within ten minutes of first speaking to them?!
He chuckled. "Indeed."
"Hey, that's my word!" she protested.
He laughed harder, and the two continued on their way.
Upon reaching the short building to which Swarnanatyam Dance Academy belonged, Havardr stopped and looked at his companion with wide but sad eyes. "So uh, I guess this is goodbye?"
Sanjeevani gaped, looking up at the man. "Wait, you're leaving already?" She really did not want to leave him just yet. The conversations about their lives that they'd had during the walk were some of the most fun ones in her life. She couldn't remember the last time she laughed so hard. And she certainly couldn't remember ever being so excited to hear about a stranger's life before.
He sighed. "I know it was fun, but you have to go handle this dance thing, and I…well, I can't stick around people too long. Everyone who hangs around me too much gets hurt. Badly."
"Okay, I've walked with you for a half-hour, and I'm perfectly safe and unharmed. I probably should credit you with that. Besides, don't you wanna see me dance?!" She might have asked this just a bit too loudly out of excitement. She made the poutiest, most pleading look she could manage until her face hurt.
Okay, yeah. She refused to let her friends join her, but this guy was new and interesting and charming. And he showed so much interest in her and her culture! It would be a shame to not share it with him in person.
Havardr groaned, putting his face in both hands. "I've known you for a maximum of forty minutes, and yet I am already so weak against your requests. This is atrocious unfairness."
The young dancer beamed. "So is that a yes or a no?" She expected she knew his answer.
With another groan and a huff, Sanjeevani's newest friend nodded. "Fine. Whatever. Let's go. Not like I could leave you just yet either, jerk." Giggling childishly, the young woman pulled him through the door and to the front desk, where she asked to speak with someone about getting hired for a teacher position.
The receptionist smiled and pointed her to the lobby, pin-straight hair shifting fluidly in her bob as she turned her head. "Wait there, s'il vous plait. The leading instructor will meet with you shortly." The mid-twenties woman's nasally French and heavily-accented English rang in the duo's ears.
Sanjeevani gave a sweet grin and nodded. "Yes, ma'am! Merci beaucoup!" She could feel the intense green eyes of the woman digging into her back as she approached the lobby with Havardr at her side. She looked around at the Indian modernist decor and fancy furniture. She didn't expect a prestigious Indian classical dance school to look like this. She expected a lot more religious idols and traditional decorations, but clearly, the head instructor or owner preferred to mix the new with the old, creating an almost futuristic Indian home of dance and arts.
Havardr's eyes rarely wandered from her face the whole time they waited. "You're uncomfortable."
She sighed. "Am I that transparent?"
He shrugged and gave a wan smile. "Mm. No. I'm just good at reading people. Survival skills. I'm sure you're the same."
"Not as good as you'd expect, but I can manage. And if I can't, I can run away fast enough to get out of danger."
He laughed at her reply.
He did believe that. But he didn't believe she was okay. "What about this makes you uncomfortable?"
She'd hoped he would drop the issue, but clearly not. Frankly, she didn't know what felt so off-putting. She shrugged in response. He sighed and moved a little closer, whispering softly to her, "Well, if you want, we can listen to some music together. It always calms me down. Not sure what kind of music you like, but I have a lot of different genres."
An eyebrow raised in shock, Sanjeevani nodded slowly, watching her companion pull an iPod and a set of wired earbuds out of his pockets. He plugged them in and handed the right-side earbud to her, being seated to his left. "Here."
Waiting for him to choose a song, she took her time to put in the earbud and adjust it. With a soft sigh, she hunkered down in the chair and crossed both arms over her chest, her bag a steadying weight in her lap. Havardr hummed and played a song, closing his eyes in relief when the soft melody of the flute flowed through the earbuds. Sanjeevani gaped and then grinned at the sound. She looked at her companion closely.
"You listen to Telugu music?"
Havardr peeked through his left eye and smirked. "Do I?" He huffed when she punched his shoulder. "Ouch! Okay, yes. I do. I listen to a lot of Indian music. I spent a lot of time there when I was first on the run from my family. Almost everyone welcomed me so kindly and freely." The young man sighed, rubbing his chin.
"Well. Not all the places I visited were that open to having me around, considering their fairly harsh history with white people, but I just kept moving and didn't bother anyone."
Sanjeevani beamed. "Do you speak the languages of the places you visited?"
He had to think about it for a second. "Kind of. I picked up what I heard the most, so a lot of my knowledge of those languages is based on what's used the most. I can't have really deep conversations or anything, but I can manage with small-talk."
"Cool! Do you wanna-"
"Nope. Sorry." He flushed a light pink. "I'm not super comfortable with talking in a language I barely know around a native speaker." Sanjeevani sighed.
"Okayyy." She leaned her head back and peacefully sang along with the music. The two youths relaxed quietly while waiting for the call from the principal of the school.
"Miss Sanjeevani?" came an elegant, strong voice. A woman appeared before the two of them, her bronze skin and straight reddish hair shimmering under the fluorescent lights. She gazed down at them with distaste over the tip of her hooked nose, scarlet lips pursed tightly, making the mole just under the left side of her lips shift at the movement.
She crossed her arms over her pink salwar top and tapped her feet anxiously, making the anklets clink with each pat to the ground. "Well? Is that you? I'm waiting." She crossed one leg over the other, the elastic fabric of her dark blue and pink leggings stretching over the long limbs.
Sanjeevani leapt up and nodded, smiling uncomfortably. "Yes, ma'am. That's me." She gave Havardr a pleading look and returned the earbud, watching him sit up and glower at the older woman. She begged with her eyes that he not say anything and acknowledged the principal. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am."
The elder woman scoffed at her outstretched hand and turned on her heel. "Come along. Let's see if you really deserve to be here at all."
Biting her lip and wringing her hands, the young dancer followed her prospective boss and smiled back at Havardr, who'd begun scraping the nail of his right pointer finger along the inner stitches of his shirt again.
He grunted and watched her leave. He looked down at the iPod in his lap and rubbed his face with one hand. Already, Havardr was ready to leave. He hated getting attached. This was too much too fast. Sure, this girl was sweet and would understand if he had to leave, but he didn't trust himself to stick around and keep his distance. Besides, he knew she would be crushed if he left without another word after promising to watch her dance.
He closed his eyes and listened to his songs with one earbud in again. The past eighteen months flashed through his head.
His family. The people he trusted to love and care for him. They had used him. Since he was a baby, they forced him into their plans and toyed with his desires for a peaceful, happy future.
Music called to him. Hearing the bards play their hearts out at the coronation of Prince Thor during Havardr's youth and watching the singers of Queen Frigga's entourage during the women's festivals always brought him such joy and sheer awe. He decided as a 250-year-old student of the Academy for Asgardian Nobleman that he would become a musician upon entering adulthood.
Of course, having only the mind of a human five-year-old meant he couldn't think ahead.
No matter how much he hoped as a child, his dreams wouldn't have come true.
Havardr ground his teeth together, trying to keep the fear and anxiety at bay. He couldn't let it peek out again. If he did, who knows what these people would do?
Despite his brave, strong name, he didn't have any such desires. He didn't want to be a guard. He didn't want to be a savior or protector. He wanted to be an artist. He wanted to sing and paint and draw and teach his fellow Asgardians about the art forms of Earth and other planets.
And because of this, the other boys mocked him. Well, for a myriad of reasons, but this was the primary cause for their cruelty. Warriors and soldiers are praised. Their efforts are immortalized in the myths and stories of each family and of the whole kingdom. But artists and musicians? Their histories live and die as moving clouds in the sky. They come and go without permanence.
His family trained him to fight constantly. He was made to be a soldier, a killer. Not a lover. Not a singer or musician. They taught him to hate living things at the human age of four. They taught him to hold a sword at the human age of six. They taught him to beat down his fellow students in their fighting classes at the human age of nine. They taught him to hunt creatures for sport at the human age of twelve. They taught him to kill properly at the human age of fifteen. And now, at the human age of twenty, he was what you could call a killer machine, against his will.
None of them expected the annihilation of Asgard upon the return of Hela and Surtur. Their plans had been ruined. But Havardr never knew their real desire, their real plot. Had Asgard not been destroyed and the people not murdered in the thousands, Havardr's family would have had him kill the crown princes and their parents. A royal coup. A murder plot. They wanted so badly to rule that they would have had him commit regicide. He knew they wouldn't have let him refuse or stand against it. They would have managed somehow, forced him down that path one way or another.
His mother, his father, his two uncles and aunts, even his elder cousins and baby siblings. There was no end to their hatred, their spite, their unkindness.
The only one who stood against their cruelty and guided him into a life of kindness and mercy was his younger sister, Gyda. She made sure he knew his actions were wrong at every turn his family forced on him. Naturally, it hurt him at first, but he soon realized the value of her help and let her become his moral compass.
She didn't treat him with disrespect or unkindness for any aspect of him. His sexuality, his gender, his nature, his desires for the future. She appreciated every part of him. Among his family members, only she accepted him for who he was at the core.
His sexuality wasn't a big issue with the other boys. Human sexual behavior required so many more labels than were necessary for Asgard, which thought such interactions were the business of the individual themselves and no one else. But his family didn't believe the same. And they certainly took as much issue with his love for men and women as they took with the fact that he sometimes just preferred wearing feminine clothes some days. He knew humans were a bit more understanding, but he didn't trust them.
He didn't know if he trusted Sanjeevani either. She was kind, but in what world would she understand him if she grew up in such a conservative home?
The man of a thousand years sighed and shook his head to push away the thoughts.
He mused to himself about his own mind. He knew he thought differently, too. He couldn't explain it, but something always felt different to him. Something about the way people reacted to certain things he said made him feel great discomfort, as if he was thinking the wrong way and everyone except him knew why.
Havardr could tell based on people's expressions at some of his statements that they thought him weird or odd or dumb. It hurt, certainly, but these reactions became more obvious to him when he began hunting with other boys. They would give him a certain kind of look and go back to the conversation after a pause.
After seeing that happen multiple times, the guard-to-be started keeping track of his words and statements and tried his best to seem completely normal and to think like the others, though he couldn't figure out what he was missing. It just felt off, but it felt like himself. He knew that made no sense, but he didn't know how else to put it.
A pause. A heartbeat. Someone was calling for him.
His head shot up in response, and he grinned. Sanjeevani, decked out in her casual dance wear, a similar style of dress to the principal. Dark green salwar top and golden yellow leggings. And her black scarf tied in an odd way: first hung over her right shoulder and pulled diagonally to her left hip to make a sash over her chest and then twisted once and pulled to her right hip and tied down with a double-knot. He didn't get it, but it was cool.
She beamed and held her hand out. "Come on! Ms. Saraswathi gave you permission to watch." Havardr grinned wider, tucking the iPod and headphones in his pocket. He rushed forward and took her hand, letting the excited young woman pull him along behind her.
"Was she nice to you? She seems kind of mean," he commented quietly.
Sanjeevani didn't respond right away, instead remaining silent for a moment or two. "Well, I guess that's just how she is. I think she's just nicer once you get to know her," she admitted.
Havardr didn't like that answer, but he simply nodded and hummed. Not like he would make her more upset by continuing to comment. He didn't want to hurt her chances of getting the job.
The young lady pulled him down a few hallways and into a large rectangular dance studio with a long mirror on one of the long walls of the room, wooden floors that gleamed under the LED lights of the ceiling, and a small seating area opposite the mirror at the other end of the room. The door creaked at their entrance.
Saraswathi stood in front of the mirror, crossing her arms and checking her nails while three other women of similar age and appearance sat behind a table to the right of the door, like judges at a competition. She soon took a seat at the middle of the table and motioned for Sanjeevani to stand before them, her back to the mirror. Havardr stood at one short wall of the studio. He looked at his companion, who gave him that pearly-white grin and nodded confidently.
The women began asking her some questions out of nowhere that seemed unrelated to the job, and Sanjeevani's composure broke.
"Where were you born?" an older woman with silver hair in a bun and a yellow and blue salwar suit asked.
"Oh, um." The girl's eyes widened. She hadn't anticipated these questions. "Atlanta, Georgia."
"Hmm. Not from the mainland, then," the woman commented to her fellow teachers. The prospective instructor's face reddened. A different woman wondered what states Sanjeevani's parents hailed from.
"Tamilnadu and Andhra Pradesh," she replied hesitantly. She knew where this list of questions was headed.
The woman, raking her tanned fingers through chocolate brown hair, huffed and mumbled as she noted it down, shifting in her red and yellow saree. "Mixing cultures like that. No wonder she looks like she does." Havardr's blood began to boil. He knew what was going on.
The last woman, the youngest of the group and seemingly the sweetest, with her gentle smile and soft brown eyes, wondered as she pulled her hair free of its bun and adjusted her pink and white salwar top, "So what caste do you and your parents belong to?" Havardr only then saw the ice in her smile, the cruelty in her eyes.
Sanjeevani flushed a deep red. She hated this question. Always. She hated it. "Our last name is Rao." Her head hung low, and she tried to not let the shame and embarrassment wash over her and drown her mind. The next statement from the principal caused the shame, not her last name or caste in and of themselves. She'd heard that statement so many times.
The Principal chuckled. "A Rao with that skin tone? Surprising. Oh well. Considering you're part Tamil, I suppose it's to be expected." She hummed, and the shame drowned Sanjeevani. Okay. She would need the rest of the week to recuperate. Maybe she could spend it with Havardr. He was nice enough. "Very well. You may begin. One dance of your choice, and one of our choice. You will have to compose as you dance."
"Okay. Which one is first?" the young woman asked weakly.
Saraswathi sighed. "Well, seeing how embarrassed you are for no reason, you can do the prepared dance first."
With a sigh of relief and a shiver, Sanjeevani handed her phone to the youngest teacher and stepped back into position, watching her new friend with helpless eyes. He tried to comfort her to the best of his ability with just his face, but he didn't think it worked. She simply waited for the music to start while watching him.
With a flourish, she began, jumping right into the movements with more vigor than he ever thought she had. Thundering footsteps, the flowing of her arms and solid changing positions of her hands, oh she was a storm. She danced like fire, and it took all of Havardr's self-control to not let his mouth hang open while he watched her lose herself to the music. She ended the song with an enamored smile towards him and with her hands pointed his direction. If you asked, he couldn't tell you what the song was about or the specific dance moves made during the performance, but he would never forget that smile she gave him.
The older women at the table clapped, chuckling and smiling while Saraswathi and the other younger teacher huffed and crossed their arms. Sanjeevani blushed and pressed her hands together, bowing in respect.
After taking down some more notes, Saraswathi and the other teachers played a random song of their choice while Sanjeevani performed the dance without preparation. Kind of like a cappella but for dancing. This song seemed difficult. So many rhythm changes and fluctuations in the lyrics and tune. Hell, the song had so many keys from the beginning to the end, and none of them made any sense with one another, but Sanjeevani still thumped away at the ground, the intensity of her motions and the strength and clarity of her eyes and expressions leaving him slightly breathless. He'd never seen a dancer move like her. He spent almost nine months in India, and none of the classical dancers he watched ever moved like she did that day.
At the end of the song, Sanjeevani stood with her arms outstretched towards the heavens, as if pleading with God to have mercy and help her get the job.
The other dance teachers sent the two youths out of the room so they could deliberate and make the decision without Sanjeevani overhearing. The two waited outside, leaning on the wall across from the door.
The silence choked them.
He needed to say it. "You weren't kidding about the fifteen years of dance experience, were you?"
She laughed tiredly. "Why would I?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. First impressions?"
She laughed again, brighter and more amused this time. "I don't lie for first impressions. That's what door-to-door salesmen do."
"Ouch!" he joked. "What did they ever do to you?"
Her face turned to stone suddenly, her eyes as dim and lifeless as a Furby's soul. "They killed my puppy, Snoodles."
His face slacked. "Oh. Um. That's crazy."
A grin cracked through the facade, and she tossed her head back to laugh. "I was totally kidding. I have no issue with them. But they don't actually care about your struggles. They're just trying to get in their quota and make their commission. That's why I said that their first impressions are lies."
Havardr sighed, resting a hand over his chest. "You scared me for a second there. Also. Snoodles?"
She shrugged. "I just like the word. Snoodle is very funny and kinda cute. Like a snake name. Snoodle. I would totally name a pet snake that."
He winced. "A pet snake?"
"Sure! Why not? They're cool!"
"No thanks. Next, you're gonna say that spiders are your best friends or something equally terrifying."
She pouted. "But some of them are so cute!"
Havardr gave her a look. "I will never hang out with you again if you bring along a scary pet like that."
"Dogs okay?"
"No. Only cats. Dogs are too loud and boisterous."
"But cats don't even like going outside."
He smirked. "Well, that's too bad." He grunted when she poked his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"Meanie." An awkward pause. "Do you…"
"Hm?"
Sanjeevani tilted her head up and looked into her new friend's eyes. He almost wanted to turn away. She always ended up staring right into his soul, to his slight discomfort. "Do you think I'll get the job, Havardr?"
The young man sighed. He raised an eyebrow in question, holding an arm up. She nodded and moved forward so he could wrap it around her shoulders. She stood a bit closer and rested against his side. "I don't know. I really don't. Personally, I think you were phenomenal. I've never seen any human dance like that. No normal person can. You're something special. But it takes someone special to be able to see that," he admitted with a sad smile.
She grinned and rolled her eyes. "Was that a compliment or a humble-brag?"
"Both?"
The two looked at one another and burst into giggles, only to shut up in nervousness when the youngest teacher opened the door and called them back in.
Sanjeevani bit her lip, rubbing her wrists as the other teachers spoke to one another secretly. They finally stopped at the principal holding one hand up and grunting to signal their silence. She smiled with fake sympathy, something Havardr knew Sanjeevani hadn't picked up, based on her hopeful and innocent expression.
"My dear, that was a wonderful performance you gave us. You have all the makings of a Swarnanatyam dance instructor. Confidence, intelligence, creativity, technical ability, humility, gentleness, respect. You have all of those."
The girl beamed. This was the moment. The beginning of her new life in France. Everything was coming together. Havardr clenched his hands in his hoodie pockets. He knew what was coming. He'd experienced the same thing many times as a child. The calm before the storm. Unbeknownst to him, Sanjeevani had experienced this too, but she had more hope at the moment. She just wanted everything to work out.
Saraswathi sighed, trying to emanate as much regret and sadness as possible. "Unfortunately, Swarnanatyam Dance Academy is a very prestigious institution that prefers its dancers to come from and know one style of dance in particular. Your knowledge of three or more styles may prove detrimental to your students, and we must be consistent. We cannot mix the various schools of Indian classical dance together. You have talent, I agree. But that talent comes from many sources, and we need one so that you don't confuse the students by meshing the three styles together. Not to mention, you come from a family of mixed cultures, which may be a point of contention with some of our more conservative parents and students. And we do formal performances all over Paris. We need a certain uniform look about us, and as you see, in a dance recital, you might stick out like a sore thumb, as per the saying, and that is the last of the three issues why we must reject your application. I am so sorry, my dear."
Sanjeevani bit down on her lip and tried to keep the tears away. She smiled weakly. "Thank you all for the opportunity. I truly appreciate it." She said nothing else, collecting her belongings and trudging out of the room. Her dreams were crushed, and they hadn't even had a chance to come out of her head.
Havardr glowered at the women as soon as the door swung shut behind the young lady. "Those were lies. All of them. Knowing three kinds of dance means she's better than you, especially since you know she can keep them distinct. She is competition for you guys, and you can't handle that. The mixed culture has nothing to do with anything. It's just you four with your prejudices. And her skin is just the issue because of your bullshit. Preference for fairer people and stuff. You're just too heartless to say it to her face, so you'd rather lie and make it seem as if you like her when you hated her from the start."
Saraswathi rolled her eyes at him. "Do I need to call security to get you out of here?"
He growled and stomped out, following the crying woman. He spotted her from the slump in her posture and the drag of her gait. Oh, she was shattered.
Havardr rushed forward and took her hand, sighing when she squeezed with all her might and let a choked sob slip free from her lips. "Sanjeevani, you know that's just one academy. There are plenty more in the city. It's no big deal. You can keep looking." She said nothing, just kept crying. "They didn't deserve you anyway. They're just too dumb to realize your talent. They're not worth your-"
"I know why they refused me. They were lying just now."
He stopped. How was he supposed to react to that?
She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her left fist. "It happens to me a lot. Mixed culture family, dark skin, too skinny, too fat, too ugly, too pretty, too nice, too mean. I've heard all the excuses. I'm used to it. I hoped they'd be nice about it. These guys aren't a great school either. They're lower-level. But all Indian dance schools have some kind of connection because Indians live in a collectivist culture no matter their religion, especially here in Europe, where everything and everyone is closer together. If the lower-level school rejected me, what higher-level school would accept me?"
He really had no clue how to respond now. How do you reassure someone that their dreams aren't crushed and that they just have to keep trying when their dreams have been getting crushed from a young age?
"Can't you create your own school?"
"With what money? I'm poor. Broke, actually. No job. No sustenance. Nothing."
He sighed and pulled her into his side again, coiling an arm about her. He figured she just needed the company. He wasn't super great with his words when it came to soothing tears. He could empathize with her heartache, but he couldn't figure out a way to make her feel better with words or truly understand her tears. Yeah, she was hurt from everything that had just happened, but there was still hope. She could still win at this in her life. He didn't know what else to say. She sniffed and leaned into him again, tucking her hands into her own jacket pockets.
Havardr gave a soft smile, tilting her head up by her pointed chin. "How about we get you some hot chocolate and a nice book? I'll read it aloud to you, if you want. I can read in a lot of languages. I think we need a reprieve from our struggles."
She returned the look with a shy grin of her own and nodded, shoulders pulled up to shield her neck against the wind. "Throw in some garlic bread and pizza for lunch, and you've got a deal."
He chuckled and nodded, keeping her close as she searched up the location of the nearest Italian restaurant on her phone. "Hope you've at least got money for food. I spent the last I had on getting a meal for myself and a homeless man last night," he muttered.
Sanjeevani giggled. "Who even are you?"
"Anyone you want, dummy. Hurry up. My stomach might just digest itself any moment, and if this continues, my death will be on your hands. My ghost will go find the police and tell them of your heartlessness, you monster." He froze in his head. Too much. Too much too much too much. That joke was too far. He awaited her impending stare of horror and confusion, but frowned at the sound of her laughter.
Okay, so that was unexpected. Most people didn't laugh at that. They often gave him a look like he just told them he ate spiders for breakfast or something. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. I'll feed you. Honestly, you sound like my younger brother. The kid always made me get him food, whether or not he was hungry. Guess that's why he got so chubby after he learned how to speak."
Havardr snorted. "This kid knows exactly what is up," he joked. She smirked.
"Are you on his side or mine? I'm your friend, you know. Not him."
"I didn't know we were friends," he spoke frankly. She stared at him.
"What?" Sanjeevani couldn't figure out whether she should have felt a little heartache at that. Sure, they only met a few hours ago, but she thought they'd really bonded. Were they not friends? "Of course we are."
Havardr watched her with wide eyes. "Really?" His face split into a big smile of relief. "Great! Sorry, I'm not used to making friends this quickly. People usually need a long time to get used to me and like me. This is just kind of a surprise."
"That's just sad. Why wouldn't people like you? You're great!"
He shrugged. "I don't know. People usually think I'm really weird. I don't know why. They just kind of give me weird looks and act like I'm insane when I say stuff. I don't ever know what I did wrong, so I have a hard time figuring out what to do or say when I want to make a new friend. I guess it's easier with you because I didn't intend to be your friend. But that doesn't make any sense at all."
Sanjeevani hummed. "Well, I'm glad you and I are friends. You're really nice, and having you around makes that rejection easier to handle."
"Thanks. Not something I hear often, but it's good that you think that. But Sanjeevani…"
She peeked up at him with those big brown eyes.
His heart kinda clenched when he said his next words. "I'll have to leave you after this, I-"
Her face hardened, and she shook her head, wrapping an arm tightly around his waist. "Nuh-uh. No way. You don't get to leave me. I won't let you. You're the first person I've trusted with my real name and details without fearing for my safety and well-being. You're the first person I've told about most of my struggles. You don't get to leave me just yet. In fact, I don't want you to leave me ever, but not so soon after you've learned my secrets. I wanna know yours too. Only then, you can leave."
He grunted. "Clever girl."
"Yep. I know."
Havardr rolled his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Fine. Until we know equal numbers of secrets about one another."
She clearly didn't want that, but she agreed. "Deal."
If Havardr had to choose his least favorite form of public transport created by humanity, he would choose the bus. Filthy, all kinds of strange people, shitty men laying their hands all over the women, rude people yelling at innocent passengers and the bus driver, and the horrid obligation of having to stand and bear all the disturbing smells all around him. Sanjeevani managed it like it was a breeze. She didn't bat an eye even when a man wearing nothing but a sewage-smelling long brown overcoat - and nothing else - sat down while eating a banana from the bottom with the peel on, carrying random sexual devices in his pockets.
That was impressive. Even more impressive was that she gave her seat up for the man and smiled at him in hello. He smiled back, teeth rotted and brown. He raked his fingers through the few strands of hair left on his mostly bald head and turned to look out the window. Sanjeevani raised an eyebrow at her new buddy, who shook his head and smiled.
While waiting for the bus to continue its journey after having stopped to let some passengers off, both youths' eyes landed on a horrifying sight. A man maybe twice their age stood a few feet away from them, his suit implying intelligence and professionalism but his behavior implying the opposite. He had his pasty white hands all over a young girl, possibly a secondary school student with dark brown skin and the prettiest black curls either of them had ever seen. So basically, this creepy middle-aged man was feeling up a kid.
Havardr had turned his head to look at Sanjeevani and ask what to do with his eyes, but he blanched when he didn't see her there beside him. He turned forward and grinned. The young adult woman had already strode forward and grabbed the wrist of the man's hand that had physical contact with the girl and was forcing it away.
He glared at her, only for the anger to morph into pain when she held on tighter, twisting it in a direction it shouldn't go. Since she first grabbed his wrist, Sanjeevani's eyes hadn't moved from his face, calmly staring at him. He groaned and winced and shouted, trying to pull at her fingers with his free hand, dropping his briefcase onto the ground. When she didn't release him and continued twisting, he began kneeling to try and pull away. She still didn't let go.
And then she went off on him in English. "You're a businessman. You have experience with interacting with people in power and people without power. Your superiors and subordinates, respectively. You wouldn't treat any woman from either group like this to avoid a lawsuit. But you'd touch a little kid like this? Give me one reason, just one reason, why I shouldn't break your hand right here, right now."
He gazed up at Sanjeevani in terror while the little girl gazed up at Sanjeevani in admiration. He whimpered weakly through a faintly British accent, "Because you might get charged here and go to jail?"
She hummed. "Yes, you might be right. But I would claim that it was all in defense of this little girl who is too afraid of adults and their authority to fight against you, and they'd let me free. Give me a better reason."
"Because I'm a human too and deserve kindness?"
She snorted at that, twisting harder. All of the other passengers of the bus had stopped what they were doing to watch the interaction. Her eyes narrowed coldly. "You didn't treat this sweet little girl with that kindness you want so badly. Bad reason. Give me a different one."
The man whimpered like a kicked puppy. "Because you're a nice wom-AH!" Sanjeevani had dug her nails into his skin. "Okay, okay, okay! Because if you let go, I'll head to the- no, run to the police station and turn myself in, no matter what my friends and family say." She smiled hatefully.
"If you just said that from the start, I would have let you go." She tutted and dropped his hand as if it were some kind of floppy toy and not the extremity connected to one of his appendages.
He scrambled to grab his briefcase and high-tail it out of the bus. While everyone clapped and cheered for her, Sanjeevani ignored the praise and looked at the girl, holding both hands up gently. "Can I touch your shoulders, my dear? Only with my hands." The girl's eyes widened, and she nodded. "Okay. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you need to borrow my phone to call someone?" the older woman rattled off while gently resting her hands on the girl's shoulders.
The girl shook her head, the curls of her pigtails bouncing with each sway. "No, madame. Merci beaucoup. I appreciate it greatly," she almost sang. "Thank you for stepping in. I am not good with saying no to adults, so this was scary for me..." She gave the older girl a bright, toothy smile, eyes closing from her big grin.
Sanjeevani cooed and nodded. "Yes, sweetie. I understand. If you ever feel uncomfortable, always look to a young woman near you. She will help you without question. We all know what it's like to be so afraid and frozen and lost. We've experienced frightening moments like those before. Is this your stop?"
"No, madame. The next one is my stop. But thank you for helping me." The student was absolutely adorable. Just a sweetheart. Havardr could tell from that simple conversation how much Sanjeevani loved kids and helping out younger people. Without any hesitation or question, she jumped in to go protect a random child she didn't know from a much older adult she didn't know, not at all afraid for her own safety and well-being.
"No problem at all, sugar. Have a good day!" she cheerfully exclaimed before returning to Havardr's side. "What a cutie pie!" she murmured to him.
He shrugged. "I guess. I'm impartial with kids. So long as they're nice to everyone, including me, I don't really have any particular opinion on them. But yeah, she seems sweet. Weren't you afraid to jump in? You were there helping before I could even react to what I saw."
She smiled and took his arm like their first walk to the dance school. "Buddy, that's how women are. We know danger before a man even realizes. This isn't bias or being rude. I'm being honest. We're used to having to look out for ourselves and our fellow female friends no matter where we go. We're so in fear for our safety at all times that it's drilled into our skulls. We know what danger looks like."
That was horrifying. He really couldn't believe his ears. Did human women really live their whole lives just being afraid all the time? No wonder they were so stressed and angry at men. Men were the primary cause for their stress and anger and fear. What a dreadful state to live in for an entire lifetime. His heroic companion sighed.
"However. Not all of us are brave enough to stand up and fight back or keep the danger away. Some of us would rather call the authorities or ask for help. Some of us would rather go and confront the people before making any decision. Some of us would rather go and whoop the person hurting another girl or a kid and ask questions later. I'm in the third group. I can't wait for the threat to go away. I can't sit silent and let people get hurt. I'd rather get in trouble later than allow harm to come to innocents."
He smiled. "That's admirable. I think that's very brave. It can be stupid, but it's very brave."
When the bus reached its next destination, the little student girl from earlier ran over and hugged Sanjeevani, dark eyes bright and warm with affection for the older girl. Sanjeevani hugged her back, long tanned arms coiling over the girl's back.
The young student ran off, waving to the bus driver after stepping onto the concrete of the sidewalk.
Havardr hummed, smirking to himself when a few of the passengers approached his friend and thanked her for her actions and wished her good luck in all her aspirations. She could only laugh and smile sheepishly, thanking them for the compliments and simply saying it wasn't necessary, that she made it her responsibility to help anyone who needed it.
He held an elbow out when the bus reached their stop. She yawned and took it, letting him lead her down the steps and onto the sidewalk. The two strolled along peacefully, Sanjeevani groaning when Havardr playfully poked at her heroism.
"Oh, hush. Protecting a kid from a pedophile isn't heroism. It's common sense. Not everyone is comfortable with public confrontation. I've done that plenty of times in high school, so I don't feel uncomfortable about it now."
"Well, maybe that just means you've got that hero vibe about you," he reasoned.
"Maybe…" She nodded pensively, thinking to herself in silence as they entered the pizza shop. Maybe he was right. Maybe she really did have that heroic sense. That determination that not enough people had. Maybe she really did have to use her powers. Spider-Man was the perfect example. The unwilling hero who grew into his role. She would do that too. Maybe not the same way. Her powers were extremely different. But she'd do what she had to. She'd save Paris.
From what? Well, she didn't know yet, but from anything, really. Maybe if she did it enough, more heroes would join her. Possibly even Ahmed!
This would be good. Oh, this would be so good.
"You did WHAT with WHOM?!"
Sanjeevani groaned. "I kinda accidentally went on a date with a guy I met four hours ago."
Ahmed watched her, his mouth agape. "How does that even HAPPEN?!"
She shrugged awkwardly, looking down at the ground beside her. "I dunno…"
Helen grinned like a shark. "Is he hot?"
The young hero-to-be smiled shyly. "Well, he's not not hot."
Olivia shoved her sister to the side, toppling the other woman to the ground. "Did he take his shirt off, and did you like what you saw?"
Sanjeevani put her face in her hands and nodded, whining pathetically in affirmation.
Olivia screamed in victory. "Did he call it a date too?"
"Uh, no. Neither of us said it outright. But it totally felt like a date to me, and I think it felt like a date to him too, maybe. Am I just desperate?"
Elizabeth huffed. "I don't know if I'd use the word desperate, but you are smitten, infatuated, with this boy."
The Indian woman rolled her eyes. "Okay, he's not a boy. He's definitely a man. His musculature does not scream teenage loser to me. He's got the body of a warrior, if that makes any sense."
Timothy grinned at that, nodding his head in approval. "Okay, so he's hot. And nice. And smart. And funny. And charming. And respects women and minorities. And knows about your culture and language. And thinks you're amazing. And has offered you an elbow twice and wrapped an arm around you several times. I say go for it. He sounds like a real catch."
Excluding Sanjeevani, the women of the group simultaneously hissed, "Timothy!" To which, he threw his hands up in surrender and laughed.
He sighed and looked at Sanjeevani, moving to sit across from her as she leaned her side against Alvin's back. "Okay. What exactly happened at lunch?"
She smiled, eyes distant with something akin to adoration. "Well…"
The two walked into the restaurant, only to be slapped across the face with the heavy aroma of cooking garlic, the spicy scent of the herbs in the different sauces, and the warm smell of baking bread and sweet cakes.
They glanced at one another and looked forward again. Sanjeevani could feel her mouth water. Oh, this was going to be her best meal yet.
A fat little Italian man with a strong accent and a stronger handshake approached them, smiling widely under his dark, curly mustache. "Buongiorno, little ones! Welcome to Tito's Pizzeria. I am Tito! What can I get for you?"
The restaurant consisted of a kitchen in the back, a counter space to square off the cooking area and designate a place for the register and baked goods, and a front area of a few square meters that had about four small circular tables with two chairs each. Clearly, the place wasn't huge. The whole restaurant could fit into a high school's smallest auditorium with room to spare.
Sanjeevani smiled brightly and giggled when the man took one of her hands and kissed her knuckles.
"Such a pretty young woman graces my pizzeria today?! Wonderful!" He winked at Havardr and elbowed him playfully. "You're one lucky young boy. What will you two have?"
Havardr blushed bright pink and laughed awkwardly. "Um, thanks. Can we have a table first?"
The man laughed boisterously and nodded, leading them inside, peeling his flour-speckled apron off of his red button-down and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows. "Of course, of course. Fair enough." He settled them into a table and chairs beside the window, placing two glasses of water and a small tea light on the white cotton tablecloth.
Sanjeevani and Havardr snickered to themselves after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "A bit too fast for that, I'd say."
He snorted through his water, nodding and laughing harder along with her when the same water he drank then dribbled out of his nose unintentionally. While they lost themselves to hilarity, Tito brought out some fresh breadsticks and olive oil and balsamic vinegar for a simple starter.
Sanjeevani and Havardr slowed their giggles and calmed down fast enough to at least ask for a meal. "Cheese pizza with tomatoes, olives, peppers, and onions for me, and some garlic bread," the young woman requested with a sweet smile.
Havardr snickered quickly and nodded. "Same here. Garlic bread, but spaghetti with marinara and basil for me, please."
Tito nodded and smiled after jotting down their orders. "Of course! Anything to drink?" he shouted while walking to the kitchen.
"No, thank you," they called out in unison. They locked eyes and laughed again.
"Oh, what a trip. I went from being terrified of you to now having lunch with you. This is weird," Sanjeevani admitted with a soft smile. Her lunch partner tossed her a confused and somewhat sad look.
"Terrified?" came his baleful question.
She sighed and nodded. "I mean, you got mad when I healed you and grabbed my wrist kinda hard, and I didn't know you or the area. Of course I was terrified."
He nodded. "Fair enough. I was scared of you too. I usually feel uncomfortable when people touch me without asking, so…"
Her eyes widened. "Wait, really? I am so so so sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable these past few hours. I wish you'd told me. I would have been more careful and stuff. Sorry!"
"No, no!" He exclaimed, putting his hands up in front of him in surrender. "It's okay. It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. Since I initiated the contact every time, it was fine. I wasn't uncomfortable with you. It's okay. It's okay." Sanjeevani nodded at his words and sighed, rubbing her face.
"Okay. Alright, that makes sense. Good. I never want to make anyone feel weird or scared or uncomfortable. That is never my intention."
Havardr shot her a look. "The bus."
She huffed. "Doesn't count. That guy deserved it. Okay, I amend my statement. I never want to make anyone innocent and good feel weird or scared or uncomfortable. There."
He smiled and hummed, tapping the table softly while waiting for their food.
As soon as it arrived, they dug in ravenously, both viciously tearing into their garlic bread and entrées. They chewed through everything and groaned with regret and exhaustion, leaning back to get over the food babies making homes in their stomachs. "That was too much food too fast," Sanjeevani moaned helplessly. Havardr could only grunt in agreement.
Out of nowhere, Tito popped over and laid a plate of dark chocolate cake between them, smiling brightly as he placed a single scoop of vanilla and strawberry gelato beside the cake. "This is on the house. You both are so precious. I hope you enjoyed your meal."
"Without a doubt, Tito. Thank you for everything," Havardr groaned. "The food was amazing. And thank you. We appreciate it greatly."
Sanjeevani only hummed and nodded off in her chair, eyes closing slowly.
"Wake up! We have cake," Havardr huffed while poking his sleepy friend. She suddenly sat up, alert and excited at the word cake. He laughed airily. "Thought so."
The two silently enjoyed the dessert before Sanjeevani got to her feet and approached the counter, handing her new favorite chef in all of Paris enough cash to pay for the meal, with double tip. Tito tried to refuse, but she smiled and shook her head. "A gift from us to you. Thank you, Tito. The meal was delicious. I'll definitely tell my friends about your restaurant." The man thanked them both as they strolled out and made their way down the sidewalk.
"So."
Havardr smiled. "So."
"Where are you headed now? Do you live in a hotel or apartment here?"
The man nodded. "I live with an acquaintance of mine. He needs someone to watch his back because he has enemies from when his now-deceased brother was involved in some shady business here in Paris, and I needed a place to live, so he let me move into the spare room in his apartment for the duration of my stay in Paris."
Sanjeevani's smile fell when she remembered her new friend had plans to leave soon. "You're not sticking around?"
A sad exhale. "I already told you, Sanjeevani. I can't stay. You know I can't…"
The dancer frowned and rubbed her eyes. There was no reason for her to get so emotional and attached when she only met the guy a few hours ago. They both stopped and looked at one another, watery brown meeting icy silver. Havardr wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in for a strong hug.
"I know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It'll be okay. Tell me what you think of this. If we ever cross paths again, I'll stick around. I'll be at your side until I die. This was maybe a fluke. But if we enter each other's lives again after today, it's because the Universe wants to keep us connected for some higher plan. Okay?"
She snorted through her sniffles. "Sap. But okay. That's fine." She nodded her head against his shoulder and melted into the feeling of scarred, rough hands scraping along through her hair.
"I'm going to miss you and your healing hands dearly," Havardr murmured.
"Okay, you barely know me, and we will meet again. I know it," she argued. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and sighed when he rubbed her back.
The Asgardian man nodded, trying to convince his heart and gut that leaving her now was the right thing to do. "Okay. Okay. Alright. We'll meet again. But you have places to go. A home to return to. I'll walk you back, but that's it, okay? And I'll pay you back for my half of the meal once we reach that building of yours."
Sanjeevani rubbed her eyes and pulled away, bobbing her head to agree. Oh, she hated that he had to leave. She couldn't explain it, but something about his presence made her want to stay at his side. Sure, they met only hours ago, but her entire soul screamed at her to stay with him no matter where he went. "Okay. Fine. And don't worry about the meal. That was my gift for you. Like a friendship bracelet, but food instead of plastic jewelry."
They resumed the walk, and Havardr smiled. "If you insist, I won't stop you."
"Thank you."
When he dropped her off at her home, she felt that screaming again. That instinct that told her to not let him leave her at any cost. Something shouted inside her, saying she belonged right there with him, but she ignored it all and smiled. He gave her one last hug and a kiss to her forehead and disappeared into the shadows of the alley.
"He sounds really weird, but also really cute. Any pics of him?" Sonia wondered.
"No way. I wouldn't betray him like that. He trusted me with his secrets, and I trusted him with mine. He's on the run, and so am I. That's a special bond people like us have. People who ran from their home to hopefully find a new one. Besides, I bet he's gonna stay in the city, and I'll maybe see him again when I'm a superhero."
Everyone rolled their eyes. "Whatever, girl," Olivia teased. "I can feel the love you got for him. But about this superhero thing…" She reclined on the couch in Ahmed's room, where they had all gathered. "You need a suit, a name, and a mask. How are you gonna make it?"
She beamed.
Ebony eyes shot to Ahmed, who lounged comfortably on his bed. He looked up when he felt everyone's eyes on him. "What?"
"Hey, buddy. Have you ever made a superhero suit before?" Sanjeevani challenged with a twinkle in her eye. He groaned. So that's what these fools all wanted.
With a sigh, he stared at his best friend. "Well, get on with it. What's the plan?"