Okay, this isn't an author notey kind of story, but I had to give a bit of explanation. New chapter, and Jasmine, you had mentioned that Eric had two powers... This will come in later, you'll see, but I don't think he'll be using them that much. Inspiration for the last two sections of this came from "Minority Report", which is actually one of the best movies I've seen, ranking right up there with American Psycho II and Lord of the Rings. I suggest you go and watch it ^_^
Without further ado,
Ryan stared as Eric was pushed into the classroom, his bag shoved after him. "And learn something," a voice announced angrily, slamming the door as the small brunette turned around.
"Eric, so nice of you to join us," Mrs. Reierson proclaimed calmly, smiling as the boy, who had been absent for several weeks, turned around. "I don't suppose you know where Kathleen is?"
Eric looked pained, and Ryan nearly shouted out as a blast of pain blasted against his senses. "She probably won't be coming back," he said softly. "There was an accident... She's in a coma, but over seventy-five percent of her brain is dead." Ryan took the time to study his classmate's expression. Eric's face was twisted into a harsh, lightless acceptance. He had been told this fact many times, or he probably wouldn't have believed it. Ryan's thoughts drew to his own power. For a minute, he found himself wondering if he could save the girl who he had known almost all of his life.
'I can see it now,' he thought, chuckling at the irony. 'I'll just walk in, cape billowing, and announce I'm a freak and I can save a girl who is nearly completely brain dead.'
'It would be worth it,' a rivaling voice taunted. 'You could make something of yourself, save a life. Wouldn't that be great? A hero...' Deep in thought, he watched as Eric sat. 'It would be worth it.'
Eric slipped into his coat, straight faced. 'Nothing short of a miracle,' he reminded himself as he glanced at the one small picture on his locker door. A sentimental keepsake, Kathleen punching him into a wall. His lips quirked into a small smile at the memory.
"Eric?" a soft voice asked, and he turned to face Ryan. "I... I wanted to know if I could help," the taller boy added.
"Nothing short of a miracle, thanks," he replied frankly.
"Well," the blonde boy drawled, pulling out his phrase. "I have this thing that I can do... It works, sometimes, and-" Ryan was pushed sharply up onto the lockers, cutting of his sentence as he gaped at Eric. "You're strong," he added belatedly.
"What exactly can you do?"
Ryan smiled hesitantly at the tall, foreboding man. The professor looked the blonde boy up and down, scanning quietly to see if the boy had what he said that he did... A healing power that just might bring back his first discovery. The boy's thoughts, he realized, were all of Kathleen at the time. He dug deeper, watching as Ryan healed his own cuts, mended bruises, coaxed bones into position. "You'll do, follow me," he commanded at last. The boy, face straight, obediently trailed him through the halls to the medical lab. Eric had resumed that infernal pacing, stalking back and forth, and Clayton was still in the corner like an injured puppy.
"I'll... I'll do what I can, okay?" Ryan's voice shook as he walked up to Kathleen, taking in her thin, pale form. "I'll do this," he added firmly." He flexed the fingers of a hand, grasping her thin wrist and concentrating. Not a moment had passed before he jumped backwards, wincing. "She won't let me in."
Ryan's head spun and he choked on the pain Kathleen had forcefully slipped into him. He had read about that, about how victims would shut themselves up and shy away from physical contact, but he hadn't wanted to believe it personally. "I won't be able to do anything," he added into the silence of the room. "If I get close to her mind, she'll push all her pain and fear onto me... I think it could kill me."
Eric's face was grim as he spoke. "Let me help. You can... I don't know... Manipulate her so she pushes all that stuff into me, and then I could... I don't know... Hold it all for you and you could... I guess... Maybe... Fix her then?"
"That was a lot of 'don't knows' and 'maybe's for a good solution," Ryan announced happily, and both boys moved forward to grasp the prone redhead's hands.
"And here I was truly believing you were an airhead," the professor laughed as Ryan felt himself sliding his powers into Kathleen. She surged and pushed, around him, and he felt a stab of nerves as her hurt pushed into Eric. He forced himself to concentrate, to mend what was broken, and lost himself in his task.
Clayton watched as Eric cried, a low keening of horror, and Ryan gritted himself to his task. For once, the young goalie felt truly useless. Nothing could be done to help Kathleen, nothing that a strange child who froze hockey pucks to his stick could manage anyhow. He had failed Ian already, it would be better to leave well enough alone.
The professor was glaring at him, and he wasn't quite sure why. He rose and walked to Ian's side, brushing back a tuft of hair from the shorter boy's face, and smiled hesitantly. 'You're going to be fine,' he thought to the other boy, gripping a hand. 'Your sister will too... I'm sure those other kids can help her. I can't do anything though.'
'Of course you can,' a weak, strange voice sounded in his mind. 'You're helping me right now.' Clayton's eyes widened as he glanced around. 'Don't worry, I'm just too tired to wake up right now,' the voice continued, and he realized that it must be Ian.
'We're talking telepathically,' he announced, more for himself than anything else.
'I know, Clayton,' Ian answered. 'Thank you.' The unconscious' boy's lips quirked into a small smile, and Clayton answered with a grin.
'Maybe I can do something more than freeze pucks to sticks?' he asked jokingly.
'Sure. You're my official SWAT ice maker. Hurray for you.'
Kathleen was dazed and lost. Something pressed tight against her mind, tickling her senses before fluttering away. She had watched as the woman's powers reached for her, had been overpowered by the force of the attack, and she should be dead. 'I'm not,' she thought, almost laughing. 'I'll be fine... Damn fine, back to saving the world and all that shit. But it hurts...'
'Calm down, an answering voice rumbled, gentle as a friend's hand. 'You're going to be fine, Kathleen. I'm doing my best, and I'm sorry for leaving you all this time.'
She was sorely tempted to blot out the voice and be alone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The voice talked sweetly of things that were good, things that she could relate to. The voice mentioned the person she had once been, before she hid herself behind a mask, and it talked about old times with a subtle certainty. It healed her, even as she felt herself coming to life. 'I could have died,' she thought, right in the middle of a phrase. The voice paused slowly, and continued, and healed.
Somewhere deep inside of herself, she knew the voice so well that it hurt as much as it healed. It made her want to remember what it had been like to be a normal, good kid, and have fun by playing games with no reason other than the sake of playing. It made her confused. It made her wake.
Clayton looked up in surprise as Eric lurched back slowly, gasping for breath. The older boy, nearly as short as him, swayed slowly, clutching his arms and pulling as though he wanted to be free of his skin. 'Dirty,' Clayton thought, feeling ashamed of himself. 'He feels dirty.' Without thinking, he walked up to the boy, wrapping his arms around his companions and hugging as hard as he could. 'Small things help,' he added mentally.
Eric's eyes were filled with tears as he hugged back instinctually. "I'm sorry," he murmured at last. "I just... She felt all of that and she would have done it for any of us and it was my fault!"
He didn't look at all steady, and his eyes flashed with pain as he struggled to stay upright. "Rest, please," Clayton choked out at last. "I know, rest." He watched calmly as Eric's eyes fluttered shut, heaving them both to the floor as the elder fell into a boneless faint. "Rest," Clayton repeated numbly as he untangled his arms and stood slowly. The blonde healer managed a weak smile as he staggered to a chair, slumping down and resting his head in his hands.
"I think I'm going to rest now," he announced frankly. "As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to faint." His eyes rolled up slightly as he dropped to one side, and Clayton turned to Kathleen, taking in her still form.
"I'll be okay," she gasped slowly, half opening her eyes. "Umm... It's strange," she continued into the silence. He felt afraid to speak, worrying that she would break from the noise of his voice. "I never really considered that I'd be going along just fine, and then I'd be put in a coma by a psychic, and then I'd be healed by a classmate who I thought was perfectly normal," she rambled, her voice still weak and breathy. "But all in all, it's pretty cool because I really do enjoy hanging out with you guys, even if there is something weird going on, you know?"
He opened his mouth slowly, pausing before adding, "It'll be fun, I guess." Anxiously, he looked up and found her still whole, shaking slowly with giggles. "What?" he asked, scrunching his brow.
"Nothing," she chortled happily. "I'm just hoping nothing bad happens... again. I mean, with my luck, this whole place will start dissolving into peppers or something." Her eyes fluttered shut, and she forced them open quickly. "I'm really tired now, so I'll just take a brief nap, sorry," she murmured politely, forcing a smile and yawning. Her breathing slowed gently, and she fell asleep.
Keeping his mental activity low, the blonde shut his eyes and tried to probe subtly. He had been feeling strange powers at work for several days, even the presence of another, stronger telepath for a while. Smiling secretively to himself, he shifted the stack of papers on his desk. His uncle kept the strangest collections, all about interesting powers, especially telepathy. As a child, he had loved studying them, and had done so with a passion. When his powers had slowly surfaced, he had removed the most important from the large library, taken them to teach himself control.
Most people who knew him wouldn't expect such a display. He had allowed himself to be classified as a skater, dabbled in band, and absorbed his friend, Ryan,'s nature of good will and intelligence. It wasn't his fault that his shields still broke under pressure, allowing him to have an easier time on tests, because he would have learned it himself sooner or later. He would just repeat this over and over, and he could believe it.
He allowed his thoughts to filter back to Ryan, one of the best friends he had ever had. At times, the thoughts drifting to him from the taller blonde were confusing, things that shouldn't work in real life, like healing. Ryan had been missing from school today, as had Kathleen, once again, and Eric. He considered probing for them, as he often did, briefly, and dismissed the thought without a second thought. It was an invasion of privacy, something that he wouldn't want to take from the ones who, somehow, meant so much to him.
He was aware that in today's society his friendship, from the thoughts in his head, might be considered unhealthy. It was okay to dislike other boys, it was okay to be friends with other boys, but to love other boys? Not so good. To add to it, his imagination enjoyed taunting him, making it seem as though his thoughts just might have filtered from Ryan, and maybe the thoughts were two ways. There was no chance.
He skimmed the notes once more, wondering what ability had surface in his class several weeks ago. He knew there had to be something, because emotions didn't just broadcast themselves, but few people had the strength to impress things like that on others, leave alone whole groups. The more he thought about it, the more illogical it seemed that any known power had that much skill, but who could possibly manipulate a new ability?
The whisper in his head, one that had pulsed for several years now, told him that perhaps Kathleen would, or he could ask his uncle. His uncle was another thing, if the notes hadn't all implied that there was a generation gap between mutation powers. His uncle, he had thought as a child, could read minds, but now he was sure that couldn't be true. He could, and only he. A secret that could destroy him.
Evil, Raiford pondered calmly, was a good thing. He had studied hard to create an image he could conform to, and knew when he hit his limits. Even the X-Men movie, as simple and unrealistic as it had been, was a good example. Mystique was an excellent role model for the wanna-be shapeshifter. A poor person, foolish, but she had given him adaption hints. A human form was easy to work with, and a simple front was easier.
He had figured out the mutations as they had shown in his classmates. Obvious to him, really. Eric's overbearing personality could only hide a quiet invisible man, and Ryan's care in protecting himself meant he was unafraid to be hurt. He scoffed at the natures of his peers, so backwards that they were simple, and had even considered adopting them to his cause. He had gone to great pains to discover what they had thought of him, shifting his image to that of someone trusted, learning things he hadn't wanted to know. They hated him, and in doing so, they fueled his hate for them.
Kathleen, even she, was frustrated by his outer shell, but she made no effort to probe past. Kathleen might have made an ally if not for her own thickheadedness. Kathleen was a winged one, created after angels themselves, he thought, and he'd be damned if he ignored this. She could hide all she wanted, and she could act like she was meant to be good, and she could even hate him, but she couldn't continue ignoring the fact.
His mutants, especially his telepathic destroyer, had been sent in hopes that they could prod her into realizing the truth by hurting her brother, because he knew how much she valued her brother, but they had failed. Kathleen had taken the brunt for him, and destroyed herself, and destroyed his plans. Raiford clenched a fist at the thought, angered at her foolishness. She had no right to ruin his plans. Now he would need new ones, and had no reason to keep people like Eric, his so called friend, alive. It was a matter of time.
He stepped away, wandering to a window and smiling harshly at his machine. It was a strange plan, the machine was completely useless but for one thing. The hero complex, as he called it, would have his ... friends... go for that machine, to destroy it and save mankind. They would not expect he, normal Raiford, to be the one to destroy them. They could not see the clogging blackness in his heart. They had no way of realizing that his minions were the ones who, in essence, killed their angel of hope. Kathleen was now good as dead, his hopes were dashed. His plan was formed, he would pull from the dust and have a victory. All in all, the world was good.
"You mean... You told... Whaaaaaaaat?" Eric whined pitifully, glaring at the taller redhead as she pulled her face straight, hastily shutting the computer file.
"Nothing," she replied quickly. "I mean, why would I do anything? Look at my face," she added, pasting on a small, innocent smile. "How can anything bad come from this face?" Ryan chuckled half heartedly, sitting on the desk and sighing. "I trust Jasmine with my timbits," she added naively. "She's great, and she's on our side."
"So... You told someone you've never quite met?" Ryan asked mournfully, sighing to himself.
"Oh, all is good," Kathleen chirped absentmindedly. "Jasmine is trustworthy, and she says she has powers too. She can turn into a panther!"
"You believe this of an internet friend," Eric sighed. "You're logic is messed up, but people don't lie to you... So I guess we'll trust her. On to better things," he continued quickly, smiling at her frustration.
"Some day I'll meet her, you see," she announced grouchily. "She's really fun. She'd make a great member."
"We'll talk about it later," Ryan agreed. "Now... what better things were you speaking of, Eric?"
"Why can't we talk about her! It's like you don't trust me! Is this some sort of scheme? I mean, really! Jasmine could make or break the team, and what do you say? 'On to better things', you say!" Kathleen snapped, storming out angrily. Both boys blinked, looking at each other.
"Do you know what just happened?" Ryan asked, and Eric shook his head. Both sighed, and stood still.
"Well," Eric said after a moment of silence. "That band trip is coming up, after all. It should be pretty fun, but we shouldn't room together because it would be suspicious..."
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!"
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop talking. So she'd stop asking the questions! She's stayed dead, you know. She'll never come back because I've killed her and I don't know why."
"I don't know either, David, but she's not dead," Eric announced, trying to keep himself calm. She should have picked up, he was sure. He really didn't need anything to help convince David that she had died.
"Oh, and I can show you that she's dead," David laughed, almost gleefully. "I can show you that she's dead, because I kept her here with me, always continued. "I killed her, but her blood didn't touch me, it touched you, because she wanted to help you."
"What?" Eric asked, reaching for the cold, stiff hand of the girl.
"She said to me, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', but she didn't stop there, oh no. She said, 'You loved him David,' and I suppose that's true, because I did love you, before I killed you and you were dead. She said, 'He could never love me, and he loved Danna. He loved you too, David, and he wanted to help you.' That's what she said, but I wanted her to stop. I was going to kill her, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know."
"David, tell me why you killed her. Why you say that you killed me," Eric asked nervously, feeling the one wide wrist he still held.
"I killed her! I don't know why!" David sobbed, laughing even as the tears poured down his cheeks. "You asked too! You want me to tell her why I killed you?" He turned to the body, laughing and crying. "I killed you! I killed you and I killed Ryan and I killed the whole damn world!" he bellowed to the corpse. "I killed everyone but me! I killed your parents, I killed Alexander, I even killed Claire, and I killed Raiford! I killed everyone! Do you know why I did it? I don't know why I did it! Do you know, I don't know!"
Eric tensed, releasing the wrist, now red from lack of circulation, and pulled the boy into a tighter hug. "Don't kill any more," he commanded, but something felt strange in his stomach. "Why did you do it?" he asked, and looked at the knife that released the blood down his stomach.
"I don't know why I did it," David replied even as he stepped away, and Kathleen was running through the door, even as she was laying dead on the bed.
"You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?" she asked, supporting his head.
"I'm not dead," Eric tried to gasp, but not a word came out. He was cold and stiff.
"You love him, David," she continued, tears pouring down his cheeks. "He never loved me, but he loved Danna. He loved you too, and he wanted to help you." She bit her lip and Eric felt the tears that cascaded down to land on him, even as he couldn't move. David walked closer, and she spoke again. "Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?" She never spoke again, never gasped, and the room was silent as she tumbled forward onto him.
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Every time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Every time I blink, your blood is on my hands. "You don't see, you don't understand, you never will."
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the others eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop-"
Kathleen sat up, gasping and sobbing as her head dropped to her knees. She shook violently, taking in deep breaths as she tried to calm down. She looked around and her fingertips went up to her neck, feeling for her pulse. A hysterical laugh escaped from her at her foolishness, but she could do nothing to stop it. "The dream, it must have been a dream, but it was so real, so real," she choked to the silence of her room.
"Kathleen?" a voice asked from the doorway, a head, it must be Ryan, framed in a soft light. "Are you all right?" he continued, but she focused on remembering to breath, remembering to stop crying, and she felt his arms wrap around her, enclosing her in a deep, soft hug. "Don't cry, it wasn't real," he muttered into her hair and she laughed again, harsh and choked, at herself.
"You're boney," she coughed into his t-shirt, rubbing the tears off of her cheeks. "I just... This awful dream."
"Yeah, we figured from your screams," he sighed. "You said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', over and over. We were worried, but we couldn't wake you up."
"It was just an awful dream," she said, but her voice lacked reassurance. "I'll be fine soon, it's just nerves. The band trip tomorrow and all." Ryan nodded although it was clear he was doubtful, and smiled slightly.
"Will you be okay getting back to sleep?" he asked thoughtfully, pushing her back onto her pillows.
"I'll watch some t.v. then try again," she replied, reaching for a clicker and watching him pad out. She smiled slightly as he glanced back, waited until the door closed, and reached for a piece of paper.
"No, you don't see,' David replied quietly. 'I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!'
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. 'I'm alive,' he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. 'I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down.'" she wrote, pausing before she continued...
Tbc
Without further ado,
Ryan stared as Eric was pushed into the classroom, his bag shoved after him. "And learn something," a voice announced angrily, slamming the door as the small brunette turned around.
"Eric, so nice of you to join us," Mrs. Reierson proclaimed calmly, smiling as the boy, who had been absent for several weeks, turned around. "I don't suppose you know where Kathleen is?"
Eric looked pained, and Ryan nearly shouted out as a blast of pain blasted against his senses. "She probably won't be coming back," he said softly. "There was an accident... She's in a coma, but over seventy-five percent of her brain is dead." Ryan took the time to study his classmate's expression. Eric's face was twisted into a harsh, lightless acceptance. He had been told this fact many times, or he probably wouldn't have believed it. Ryan's thoughts drew to his own power. For a minute, he found himself wondering if he could save the girl who he had known almost all of his life.
'I can see it now,' he thought, chuckling at the irony. 'I'll just walk in, cape billowing, and announce I'm a freak and I can save a girl who is nearly completely brain dead.'
'It would be worth it,' a rivaling voice taunted. 'You could make something of yourself, save a life. Wouldn't that be great? A hero...' Deep in thought, he watched as Eric sat. 'It would be worth it.'
Eric slipped into his coat, straight faced. 'Nothing short of a miracle,' he reminded himself as he glanced at the one small picture on his locker door. A sentimental keepsake, Kathleen punching him into a wall. His lips quirked into a small smile at the memory.
"Eric?" a soft voice asked, and he turned to face Ryan. "I... I wanted to know if I could help," the taller boy added.
"Nothing short of a miracle, thanks," he replied frankly.
"Well," the blonde boy drawled, pulling out his phrase. "I have this thing that I can do... It works, sometimes, and-" Ryan was pushed sharply up onto the lockers, cutting of his sentence as he gaped at Eric. "You're strong," he added belatedly.
"What exactly can you do?"
Ryan smiled hesitantly at the tall, foreboding man. The professor looked the blonde boy up and down, scanning quietly to see if the boy had what he said that he did... A healing power that just might bring back his first discovery. The boy's thoughts, he realized, were all of Kathleen at the time. He dug deeper, watching as Ryan healed his own cuts, mended bruises, coaxed bones into position. "You'll do, follow me," he commanded at last. The boy, face straight, obediently trailed him through the halls to the medical lab. Eric had resumed that infernal pacing, stalking back and forth, and Clayton was still in the corner like an injured puppy.
"I'll... I'll do what I can, okay?" Ryan's voice shook as he walked up to Kathleen, taking in her thin, pale form. "I'll do this," he added firmly." He flexed the fingers of a hand, grasping her thin wrist and concentrating. Not a moment had passed before he jumped backwards, wincing. "She won't let me in."
Ryan's head spun and he choked on the pain Kathleen had forcefully slipped into him. He had read about that, about how victims would shut themselves up and shy away from physical contact, but he hadn't wanted to believe it personally. "I won't be able to do anything," he added into the silence of the room. "If I get close to her mind, she'll push all her pain and fear onto me... I think it could kill me."
Eric's face was grim as he spoke. "Let me help. You can... I don't know... Manipulate her so she pushes all that stuff into me, and then I could... I don't know... Hold it all for you and you could... I guess... Maybe... Fix her then?"
"That was a lot of 'don't knows' and 'maybe's for a good solution," Ryan announced happily, and both boys moved forward to grasp the prone redhead's hands.
"And here I was truly believing you were an airhead," the professor laughed as Ryan felt himself sliding his powers into Kathleen. She surged and pushed, around him, and he felt a stab of nerves as her hurt pushed into Eric. He forced himself to concentrate, to mend what was broken, and lost himself in his task.
Clayton watched as Eric cried, a low keening of horror, and Ryan gritted himself to his task. For once, the young goalie felt truly useless. Nothing could be done to help Kathleen, nothing that a strange child who froze hockey pucks to his stick could manage anyhow. He had failed Ian already, it would be better to leave well enough alone.
The professor was glaring at him, and he wasn't quite sure why. He rose and walked to Ian's side, brushing back a tuft of hair from the shorter boy's face, and smiled hesitantly. 'You're going to be fine,' he thought to the other boy, gripping a hand. 'Your sister will too... I'm sure those other kids can help her. I can't do anything though.'
'Of course you can,' a weak, strange voice sounded in his mind. 'You're helping me right now.' Clayton's eyes widened as he glanced around. 'Don't worry, I'm just too tired to wake up right now,' the voice continued, and he realized that it must be Ian.
'We're talking telepathically,' he announced, more for himself than anything else.
'I know, Clayton,' Ian answered. 'Thank you.' The unconscious' boy's lips quirked into a small smile, and Clayton answered with a grin.
'Maybe I can do something more than freeze pucks to sticks?' he asked jokingly.
'Sure. You're my official SWAT ice maker. Hurray for you.'
Kathleen was dazed and lost. Something pressed tight against her mind, tickling her senses before fluttering away. She had watched as the woman's powers reached for her, had been overpowered by the force of the attack, and she should be dead. 'I'm not,' she thought, almost laughing. 'I'll be fine... Damn fine, back to saving the world and all that shit. But it hurts...'
'Calm down, an answering voice rumbled, gentle as a friend's hand. 'You're going to be fine, Kathleen. I'm doing my best, and I'm sorry for leaving you all this time.'
She was sorely tempted to blot out the voice and be alone, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. The voice talked sweetly of things that were good, things that she could relate to. The voice mentioned the person she had once been, before she hid herself behind a mask, and it talked about old times with a subtle certainty. It healed her, even as she felt herself coming to life. 'I could have died,' she thought, right in the middle of a phrase. The voice paused slowly, and continued, and healed.
Somewhere deep inside of herself, she knew the voice so well that it hurt as much as it healed. It made her want to remember what it had been like to be a normal, good kid, and have fun by playing games with no reason other than the sake of playing. It made her confused. It made her wake.
Clayton looked up in surprise as Eric lurched back slowly, gasping for breath. The older boy, nearly as short as him, swayed slowly, clutching his arms and pulling as though he wanted to be free of his skin. 'Dirty,' Clayton thought, feeling ashamed of himself. 'He feels dirty.' Without thinking, he walked up to the boy, wrapping his arms around his companions and hugging as hard as he could. 'Small things help,' he added mentally.
Eric's eyes were filled with tears as he hugged back instinctually. "I'm sorry," he murmured at last. "I just... She felt all of that and she would have done it for any of us and it was my fault!"
He didn't look at all steady, and his eyes flashed with pain as he struggled to stay upright. "Rest, please," Clayton choked out at last. "I know, rest." He watched calmly as Eric's eyes fluttered shut, heaving them both to the floor as the elder fell into a boneless faint. "Rest," Clayton repeated numbly as he untangled his arms and stood slowly. The blonde healer managed a weak smile as he staggered to a chair, slumping down and resting his head in his hands.
"I think I'm going to rest now," he announced frankly. "As a matter of fact, I think I'm going to faint." His eyes rolled up slightly as he dropped to one side, and Clayton turned to Kathleen, taking in her still form.
"I'll be okay," she gasped slowly, half opening her eyes. "Umm... It's strange," she continued into the silence. He felt afraid to speak, worrying that she would break from the noise of his voice. "I never really considered that I'd be going along just fine, and then I'd be put in a coma by a psychic, and then I'd be healed by a classmate who I thought was perfectly normal," she rambled, her voice still weak and breathy. "But all in all, it's pretty cool because I really do enjoy hanging out with you guys, even if there is something weird going on, you know?"
He opened his mouth slowly, pausing before adding, "It'll be fun, I guess." Anxiously, he looked up and found her still whole, shaking slowly with giggles. "What?" he asked, scrunching his brow.
"Nothing," she chortled happily. "I'm just hoping nothing bad happens... again. I mean, with my luck, this whole place will start dissolving into peppers or something." Her eyes fluttered shut, and she forced them open quickly. "I'm really tired now, so I'll just take a brief nap, sorry," she murmured politely, forcing a smile and yawning. Her breathing slowed gently, and she fell asleep.
Keeping his mental activity low, the blonde shut his eyes and tried to probe subtly. He had been feeling strange powers at work for several days, even the presence of another, stronger telepath for a while. Smiling secretively to himself, he shifted the stack of papers on his desk. His uncle kept the strangest collections, all about interesting powers, especially telepathy. As a child, he had loved studying them, and had done so with a passion. When his powers had slowly surfaced, he had removed the most important from the large library, taken them to teach himself control.
Most people who knew him wouldn't expect such a display. He had allowed himself to be classified as a skater, dabbled in band, and absorbed his friend, Ryan,'s nature of good will and intelligence. It wasn't his fault that his shields still broke under pressure, allowing him to have an easier time on tests, because he would have learned it himself sooner or later. He would just repeat this over and over, and he could believe it.
He allowed his thoughts to filter back to Ryan, one of the best friends he had ever had. At times, the thoughts drifting to him from the taller blonde were confusing, things that shouldn't work in real life, like healing. Ryan had been missing from school today, as had Kathleen, once again, and Eric. He considered probing for them, as he often did, briefly, and dismissed the thought without a second thought. It was an invasion of privacy, something that he wouldn't want to take from the ones who, somehow, meant so much to him.
He was aware that in today's society his friendship, from the thoughts in his head, might be considered unhealthy. It was okay to dislike other boys, it was okay to be friends with other boys, but to love other boys? Not so good. To add to it, his imagination enjoyed taunting him, making it seem as though his thoughts just might have filtered from Ryan, and maybe the thoughts were two ways. There was no chance.
He skimmed the notes once more, wondering what ability had surface in his class several weeks ago. He knew there had to be something, because emotions didn't just broadcast themselves, but few people had the strength to impress things like that on others, leave alone whole groups. The more he thought about it, the more illogical it seemed that any known power had that much skill, but who could possibly manipulate a new ability?
The whisper in his head, one that had pulsed for several years now, told him that perhaps Kathleen would, or he could ask his uncle. His uncle was another thing, if the notes hadn't all implied that there was a generation gap between mutation powers. His uncle, he had thought as a child, could read minds, but now he was sure that couldn't be true. He could, and only he. A secret that could destroy him.
Evil, Raiford pondered calmly, was a good thing. He had studied hard to create an image he could conform to, and knew when he hit his limits. Even the X-Men movie, as simple and unrealistic as it had been, was a good example. Mystique was an excellent role model for the wanna-be shapeshifter. A poor person, foolish, but she had given him adaption hints. A human form was easy to work with, and a simple front was easier.
He had figured out the mutations as they had shown in his classmates. Obvious to him, really. Eric's overbearing personality could only hide a quiet invisible man, and Ryan's care in protecting himself meant he was unafraid to be hurt. He scoffed at the natures of his peers, so backwards that they were simple, and had even considered adopting them to his cause. He had gone to great pains to discover what they had thought of him, shifting his image to that of someone trusted, learning things he hadn't wanted to know. They hated him, and in doing so, they fueled his hate for them.
Kathleen, even she, was frustrated by his outer shell, but she made no effort to probe past. Kathleen might have made an ally if not for her own thickheadedness. Kathleen was a winged one, created after angels themselves, he thought, and he'd be damned if he ignored this. She could hide all she wanted, and she could act like she was meant to be good, and she could even hate him, but she couldn't continue ignoring the fact.
His mutants, especially his telepathic destroyer, had been sent in hopes that they could prod her into realizing the truth by hurting her brother, because he knew how much she valued her brother, but they had failed. Kathleen had taken the brunt for him, and destroyed herself, and destroyed his plans. Raiford clenched a fist at the thought, angered at her foolishness. She had no right to ruin his plans. Now he would need new ones, and had no reason to keep people like Eric, his so called friend, alive. It was a matter of time.
He stepped away, wandering to a window and smiling harshly at his machine. It was a strange plan, the machine was completely useless but for one thing. The hero complex, as he called it, would have his ... friends... go for that machine, to destroy it and save mankind. They would not expect he, normal Raiford, to be the one to destroy them. They could not see the clogging blackness in his heart. They had no way of realizing that his minions were the ones who, in essence, killed their angel of hope. Kathleen was now good as dead, his hopes were dashed. His plan was formed, he would pull from the dust and have a victory. All in all, the world was good.
"You mean... You told... Whaaaaaaaat?" Eric whined pitifully, glaring at the taller redhead as she pulled her face straight, hastily shutting the computer file.
"Nothing," she replied quickly. "I mean, why would I do anything? Look at my face," she added, pasting on a small, innocent smile. "How can anything bad come from this face?" Ryan chuckled half heartedly, sitting on the desk and sighing. "I trust Jasmine with my timbits," she added naively. "She's great, and she's on our side."
"So... You told someone you've never quite met?" Ryan asked mournfully, sighing to himself.
"Oh, all is good," Kathleen chirped absentmindedly. "Jasmine is trustworthy, and she says she has powers too. She can turn into a panther!"
"You believe this of an internet friend," Eric sighed. "You're logic is messed up, but people don't lie to you... So I guess we'll trust her. On to better things," he continued quickly, smiling at her frustration.
"Some day I'll meet her, you see," she announced grouchily. "She's really fun. She'd make a great member."
"We'll talk about it later," Ryan agreed. "Now... what better things were you speaking of, Eric?"
"Why can't we talk about her! It's like you don't trust me! Is this some sort of scheme? I mean, really! Jasmine could make or break the team, and what do you say? 'On to better things', you say!" Kathleen snapped, storming out angrily. Both boys blinked, looking at each other.
"Do you know what just happened?" Ryan asked, and Eric shook his head. Both sighed, and stood still.
"Well," Eric said after a moment of silence. "That band trip is coming up, after all. It should be pretty fun, but we shouldn't room together because it would be suspicious..."
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!"
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop talking. So she'd stop asking the questions! She's stayed dead, you know. She'll never come back because I've killed her and I don't know why."
"I don't know either, David, but she's not dead," Eric announced, trying to keep himself calm. She should have picked up, he was sure. He really didn't need anything to help convince David that she had died.
"Oh, and I can show you that she's dead," David laughed, almost gleefully. "I can show you that she's dead, because I kept her here with me, always continued. "I killed her, but her blood didn't touch me, it touched you, because she wanted to help you."
"What?" Eric asked, reaching for the cold, stiff hand of the girl.
"She said to me, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', but she didn't stop there, oh no. She said, 'You loved him David,' and I suppose that's true, because I did love you, before I killed you and you were dead. She said, 'He could never love me, and he loved Danna. He loved you too, David, and he wanted to help you.' That's what she said, but I wanted her to stop. I was going to kill her, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know."
"David, tell me why you killed her. Why you say that you killed me," Eric asked nervously, feeling the one wide wrist he still held.
"I killed her! I don't know why!" David sobbed, laughing even as the tears poured down his cheeks. "You asked too! You want me to tell her why I killed you?" He turned to the body, laughing and crying. "I killed you! I killed you and I killed Ryan and I killed the whole damn world!" he bellowed to the corpse. "I killed everyone but me! I killed your parents, I killed Alexander, I even killed Claire, and I killed Raiford! I killed everyone! Do you know why I did it? I don't know why I did it! Do you know, I don't know!"
Eric tensed, releasing the wrist, now red from lack of circulation, and pulled the boy into a tighter hug. "Don't kill any more," he commanded, but something felt strange in his stomach. "Why did you do it?" he asked, and looked at the knife that released the blood down his stomach.
"I don't know why I did it," David replied even as he stepped away, and Kathleen was running through the door, even as she was laying dead on the bed.
"You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?" she asked, supporting his head.
"I'm not dead," Eric tried to gasp, but not a word came out. He was cold and stiff.
"You love him, David," she continued, tears pouring down his cheeks. "He never loved me, but he loved Danna. He loved you too, and he wanted to help you." She bit her lip and Eric felt the tears that cascaded down to land on him, even as he couldn't move. David walked closer, and she spoke again. "Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?" She never spoke again, never gasped, and the room was silent as she tumbled forward onto him.
"No, you don't see," David replied quietly. "I've killed you. Every time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Every time I blink, your blood is on my hands. "You don't see, you don't understand, you never will."
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. "I'm alive," he reminded the boy, trying to meet the others eyes. "I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down."
"I've killed you," David repeated flatly. "You're dead, soon. Soon you'll realize you're dead. I've killed you, you see. Your blood has dripped through my fingertips, it's fallen to the ground, it's stained me forever. You're dead, Eric. I've killed you, and you'll stay dead. Stay dead!" His voice broke and he leaned forward, crying. "I've killed you, killed you," he repeated harshly. "Dead, always dead, never alive."
Eric felt himself shake as he brought the hand to his heart, pressing it to his chest. "Feel my heart?" he asked quietly. "It's beating, David. It's beating because you haven't killed me, there's no reason to. I'm alive, so are you. We're fine."
David ignored the voice, shaking his head back and forth. "Kathleen can tell you," he yelled. "Kathleen saw you die. Kathleen asked me why! Kathleen said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Every time it gets quiet, I hear her say that. 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?' Why? I don't know, I just know that you're dead, Eric. I've killed you and you're dead."
Eric turned to the phone, never releasing David's wrist. "Calm down," he murmured as he punched in the numbers, listened to it ring, heard no one pick up.
"It's a nightmare, you know!" David's voice dropped to a secretive whisper. "We're not really grade nines, innocent grade nines. We're pawns, you know. I don't know why I killed you, but we're pawns. And she won't pick up, never, ever, ever pick up. She won't ever pick up, you know, because she's dead too. I didn't want to kill her, and she looked at me, and she said, 'Will you kill me too, David? Why will you kill me too?' but I never answered, you know. I just killed her, so she'd stop-"
Kathleen sat up, gasping and sobbing as her head dropped to her knees. She shook violently, taking in deep breaths as she tried to calm down. She looked around and her fingertips went up to her neck, feeling for her pulse. A hysterical laugh escaped from her at her foolishness, but she could do nothing to stop it. "The dream, it must have been a dream, but it was so real, so real," she choked to the silence of her room.
"Kathleen?" a voice asked from the doorway, a head, it must be Ryan, framed in a soft light. "Are you all right?" he continued, but she focused on remembering to breath, remembering to stop crying, and she felt his arms wrap around her, enclosing her in a deep, soft hug. "Don't cry, it wasn't real," he muttered into her hair and she laughed again, harsh and choked, at herself.
"You're boney," she coughed into his t-shirt, rubbing the tears off of her cheeks. "I just... This awful dream."
"Yeah, we figured from your screams," he sighed. "You said, 'You've killed him, David. Why did you kill him?', over and over. We were worried, but we couldn't wake you up."
"It was just an awful dream," she said, but her voice lacked reassurance. "I'll be fine soon, it's just nerves. The band trip tomorrow and all." Ryan nodded although it was clear he was doubtful, and smiled slightly.
"Will you be okay getting back to sleep?" he asked thoughtfully, pushing her back onto her pillows.
"I'll watch some t.v. then try again," she replied, reaching for a clicker and watching him pad out. She smiled slightly as he glanced back, waited until the door closed, and reached for a piece of paper.
"No, you don't see,' David replied quietly. 'I've killed you. Ever time I shut my eyes, I've killed you. Ever time I blink, your blood is on my hands. You don't see, you don't understand, you never will!'
Eric's fingers tightened around his friend's wrist. 'I'm alive,' he reminded the boy, trying to meet the other's eyes. 'I haven't died, David. You haven't killed me at all, please, calm down.'" she wrote, pausing before she continued...
Tbc