Title: The Elements of Trust
Author/pseudonym: Nights
Fandom:Mutant X
Paring: None really, but Shalimar and Jesse are the main characters being dealt with.
E-mail address for feedback: nights@poetic.com
Disclaimers: Mutant X is the property of Tribune Entertainment, and maybe even Marvel Entertainment. The characters and universe of Mutant X are being used by this author for entertainment purposes only, without any possibility of making money. I do own Laura, though. ^_^

Notes: Thanks so much to all those who reviewed my fic. :) This is my first time to write a Mutant X fanfic, let alone a fanfic with multiple chapters, so its great to receive good commentary.

This is a short vignette, it is still a part of the fic "Elements of Trust" but it could stand alone. Consider it a departure from the current flow of the story. :)

Summary: An exploration of the bond between Shalimar and Jesse. Held a few years when it was just Shalimar and Adam, no one else. This is my first Mutant X fanfic, so please be nice to me.


Vignette: The Many Faces of Fear

She felt like she could feel, see, hear and smell the four corners of the world.

Dawn was breaking in the dingy motel room she was staying in. She nervously pushed an errant lock of blond hair from her face, hissing in irritation as her sweat caused the strand to mat on the side of her face. That sound. Again. The screeching of tires. A red dress. The turn of a key on its lock. The smell of fermented grapes. A knock on the door. A footstep. She whirled around, looking for its source, and felt them all, resonating like a drum roll to come to a stop near her ears.

Behind the window, a moth had wandered on a spider web, catching its barely-visible legs. Slowly sneaking behind, the owner of the web had jumped on it, erasing all of its chances to break free. The spider slowly began tearing the moth methodically apart. She shut her eyes but she could still see it--its wings slowly being torn apart; she could hear it--the chipping sound of the spider's minuscule jaws sinking on its silken body; and she could also feel it--the feeling of the moth's life being taken away in an agonizingly slow rhythm. The sickening smell of dissipating flesh flooded her nostrils as she fought the urge to vomit.

She wanted to push it away, the sound, the smell, the sight of it all, but in a split second she found her senses honing in on another image. A park. She knew it was near the motel room she had kept herself hidden from the rest of the world, but where? She looked wildly around and in just a second more, found out. To the right. A baby was crying loudly, having pooped on its diapers. The smell was enough to make her retch, and she fought hard not to. Upstairs, someone was playing a Backstreet Boys CD. The sound of tapping feet. Someone was dancing. The room on her left, someone was baking chocolate mousse. The humming sound of an oven baking floated on her ears, the smell of chocolate made her mouth water.

The room across her. She heard the slap of a condom being broken. The sighs and moans, the squeaking of a bed's springs, whining from the effort.

Too many sounds, sights, smells. She felt the myriad of images, sounds and smells coalescing into a single spear piercing straight into her brain.

Her knees buckled and she blacked out.

****************

She woke up to the smell of brownies. Food. When was the last time she had eaten? She didn't know. She sat up. Morning was forcing its greeting through her shut window, and it was slowly eating away the shields of her window blinds as sunlight sneaked into its sides.

She got up with a start. She had to get out of here.

**************

How long had she been walking? She didn't know. What time is it? She didn't know either. Never mind what day, what month, and where she exactly was. She had nothing to follow, nothing to hide from, no one to talk to. This day was hers.

She was in the middle of crossing the street when she realized that a pair of eyes, dark brown eyes, have bored themselves into the back of her head with so much intensity that she gasped. She turned around to the source of the piercing stare in alarm. The gaze returned hers and she was taken aback for a moment, by its calmness, soothingness, the quiet understanding it seemed to have for her current condition.

Normally, it would make someone feel better to have solace. But right now, it did nothing but scare her.

A car's brakes squealed. She turned her gaze back in front of her and saw a car on its way to her. There was seemingly no way out, no time to run, yet instinct took over, and she reacted.

The next thing she knew she was on top of the car, her feet planted on the metal painted surface comfortably, as if they belonged there. She was horrified. How did she do that? Again, she didn't know.

A barrage of voices pierced her mind. "Are you all right, Miss?"

"What the hell was that?"

"Who is she, some kind of catwoman?"

That did it. She ran away in fear, the voices of so many echoing in the distance.

***************

She found herself again in the dingy motel room, where everything seemed to have began. She had kept herself underneath her bed in fear of being discovered by the many people who had seen what she did before. She noticed that its been days since she's washed herself, days since she's eaten, but it didn't bother her. Something was dreadfully wrong with her and she didn't know what. She decided that the best way was to keep herself as far away from everything as possible, perhaps that could prevent her from sensing everything. She had gone as far as to crushing a mouse in her palm, apalled at its attempt to intrude onto her personal space.

She pressed her palms into her forehead, pushing away the urge to cry. She had never been so scared in her entire life. She often prided herself for her utmost confidence and self-belief but right now she didn't know what was wrong with her, there were so many questions about herself she desperately needed answers to, and it angered her that she didn't know where and how to look for it.

There it is again. She raised her head sharply at the distinct sound of someone turning the doorknob of her room.

The minty smell of aftershave. The creaking of footsteps on wood. She pressed herself farther into the bottom of the bed. Whoever it was, he was slowly prying away her barricades. Normally she would kick whoever it was away, but she was too tired, too tired to fight back.

Then she found herself facing calm eyes, reaching for her.

The overall calmness of his brown eyes told her he wasn't going to hurt her. Tired from pushing everything away, she pushed away all sense of control and found herself sinking into the nearest, most comforting arms she could find.

Even if it was from a stranger.

***End Vignette***