a/n: I'm not making any promises with this chapter, my beta reader
scrawled all over it in red and then informed me that she's going to
Colorado, goodbye! So this is just gonna be great, I personally don't
think its up to standards, since I had to change the whole plot, but here
goes anyway.
And in case you're dense like that ~~ indicates telepathic thought.
Disclaimer: its summer! ::dances the happy dance:: It's time to burn in the hot, oven-like Texas sun!
Ch. 3: "Fortune is blind, but not invisible"
"Good god, girl, what happened to you?" a voice uncomfortably close to my head gasped. "Celia, a good god had very little to do in the matter." I muttered groggily as I tried to regain enough consciousness to speak. "Isn't it painfully obvious? I've been stuck in a room, alone, for what seems like the past week, and to top it all off, I've got food poisoning!" "Well, we tried to find you." Jon grumbled, from behind her "guess we didn't try hard enough, huh?" I glared at him. I see them for the first time in a couple of days, and now they're mad at me!
~~Well, I'm not mad at you~~ Celia reminded me, sarcastically, in my head~~ if you hadn't noticed. ~~ I'm gonna really need to learn those helpful mindblocks. ~~ And, no, don't damn me for reading your thoughts. He's only being obnoxious because he doesn't know what else to be. You should have seen him after Gerald dragged you out. He was a nervous wreck, going on about how if he hadn't brought that plate of food up Gerald wouldn't have been able to follow it and then.~~ The link snapped shut as Jon started getting that pouting 'why am I not included?' look on his face. "So what exactly did he do to you?" he asked me coolly, probably preparing for the worst.
"Nothing exactly life threatening, and for that I'm probably fortunate" I smiled grimly. "He just locked me in the storage room on the roof for a couple days to get me out of the way." Jon was silent. Celia muttered something about starvation tactics. "He did come up with that muck Jon almost threw out the window" I admitted, and glanced at him. "Did you eat it?" he asked. "When he made me," I confessed. "That's when I got food poisoning. It musta gotten something in it." Celia shuddered, and I heard a couple of curses from Jon's corner.
"Well," Celia said with fake brightness, "We're here to cheer you up! Right?" Getting no response, she nudged Jon sharply in the ribs. "Yeah sure" he said gloomily. "Try as hard as you like. I need some too." I could see Celia furiously berating him in his head for being such a pessimist. I decided to stop trying to figure out what they were mentally saying, and promptly fell asleep again.
I woke up with a stomach pushing up into my throat. Mindlessly, I kicked away the sheet and promptly fell off the bed. I managed to pull myself up in time to empty my entire stomach into the conveniently placed trashcan. Sprawled in a mess of sheets, with vomit covering half my face and some of my hair, I felt awful and prayed equally for both nobody to see me and for somebody to help me. When I tried to pull myself up, another round of dry heaves hit me. Giving up, I collapsed and resigned myself to an awful day.
"Isn't it rather early in the morning to be sick?" a voice from the doorway asked grinningly a few minutes later. "Hilarious." I rasped while attempting to regain a shred of dignity. At least Jon was himself, even if I didn't feel right. "It would have been a fun rumor to spread, if I could've" Jon added thoughtfully as he helped me up and led me to the sink. Right. "And would that be before or after Gerald mauled you into bloody bits?" I responded sarcastically, attempting to wash myself up in the sink. He blinked at me. Apparently he had overlooked that part of the equation for morning sickness.
The topic of Gerald's temper was also perhaps not the best one to bring up.
He was still silent when he helped me back into bed and methodically straightened the sheet around me. Fantastic. Was he still worrying? "It wasn't your fault, you know." I blurted out. He looked at me, surprised. Then he grinned, and the old Jon was back again. "Telepaths should really be locked up. Especially her. She's been onto my case since all this started, the little gossip. But, really, it's better to see you up and about. Though I don't know if falling off the bed and puking up your stomach really counts as 'up and about'." I decided to ignore his nasty expression as he peered over into the wastebasket. "Where's she now anyway?"
Come to think of it, when was now? How long had I been sleeping, anyway? "Finding breakfast." was Jon's reply "I was supposed to wake you up. Celia opted out of it, she hasn't really got good bedside manner" I laughed. "'Bedside manner'! So I guess that remark about morning sickness is your twisted version of bedside manner?" "Well, I haven't really had a lot of practice." he drawled suggestively. I threw the pillow at him.
It wasn't much longer until Celia pushed open the door, holding breakfast. "Will you be able to eat this?" she asked me, showing us a packet of sweet cinnamon rolls. "Sugary and entirely non-healthy" she added. "I'll try!" I replied, reaching over to attack the infuriating plastic wrap. I love cinnamon rolls. "Yeah, just 'try' to not throw up this time, huh?" Jon teased as he dragged the smelly trashcan out of the room.
~~Feeling better are you? ~~ said Celia sarcastically ~~you're grinning like a little idiot~~ ~~Hey, at least I'm 'cheered up'~~ I replied, licking the frosting off my chin.
Jon was blissfully unaware of this little exchange as he rejoined us and grabbed a cinnamon roll.
A/N: I've always commented on how in the marvel universe the telepaths (and empaths) seem to be the only ones who can tell what people are really feeling. The problem is that they're all so 'honorable' that they don't snoop into other people's minds. (Well, Emma does. I liked her in the very first comic I read of her, but that was when she wasn't trying to seduce unwitting reporters or Scott or anything) So what do we make of Celia the gossip? heehee.
Ah yes. ~~Click the little blue box.~~ ~~Click it I say!~~
And in case you're dense like that ~~ indicates telepathic thought.
Disclaimer: its summer! ::dances the happy dance:: It's time to burn in the hot, oven-like Texas sun!
Ch. 3: "Fortune is blind, but not invisible"
"Good god, girl, what happened to you?" a voice uncomfortably close to my head gasped. "Celia, a good god had very little to do in the matter." I muttered groggily as I tried to regain enough consciousness to speak. "Isn't it painfully obvious? I've been stuck in a room, alone, for what seems like the past week, and to top it all off, I've got food poisoning!" "Well, we tried to find you." Jon grumbled, from behind her "guess we didn't try hard enough, huh?" I glared at him. I see them for the first time in a couple of days, and now they're mad at me!
~~Well, I'm not mad at you~~ Celia reminded me, sarcastically, in my head~~ if you hadn't noticed. ~~ I'm gonna really need to learn those helpful mindblocks. ~~ And, no, don't damn me for reading your thoughts. He's only being obnoxious because he doesn't know what else to be. You should have seen him after Gerald dragged you out. He was a nervous wreck, going on about how if he hadn't brought that plate of food up Gerald wouldn't have been able to follow it and then.~~ The link snapped shut as Jon started getting that pouting 'why am I not included?' look on his face. "So what exactly did he do to you?" he asked me coolly, probably preparing for the worst.
"Nothing exactly life threatening, and for that I'm probably fortunate" I smiled grimly. "He just locked me in the storage room on the roof for a couple days to get me out of the way." Jon was silent. Celia muttered something about starvation tactics. "He did come up with that muck Jon almost threw out the window" I admitted, and glanced at him. "Did you eat it?" he asked. "When he made me," I confessed. "That's when I got food poisoning. It musta gotten something in it." Celia shuddered, and I heard a couple of curses from Jon's corner.
"Well," Celia said with fake brightness, "We're here to cheer you up! Right?" Getting no response, she nudged Jon sharply in the ribs. "Yeah sure" he said gloomily. "Try as hard as you like. I need some too." I could see Celia furiously berating him in his head for being such a pessimist. I decided to stop trying to figure out what they were mentally saying, and promptly fell asleep again.
I woke up with a stomach pushing up into my throat. Mindlessly, I kicked away the sheet and promptly fell off the bed. I managed to pull myself up in time to empty my entire stomach into the conveniently placed trashcan. Sprawled in a mess of sheets, with vomit covering half my face and some of my hair, I felt awful and prayed equally for both nobody to see me and for somebody to help me. When I tried to pull myself up, another round of dry heaves hit me. Giving up, I collapsed and resigned myself to an awful day.
"Isn't it rather early in the morning to be sick?" a voice from the doorway asked grinningly a few minutes later. "Hilarious." I rasped while attempting to regain a shred of dignity. At least Jon was himself, even if I didn't feel right. "It would have been a fun rumor to spread, if I could've" Jon added thoughtfully as he helped me up and led me to the sink. Right. "And would that be before or after Gerald mauled you into bloody bits?" I responded sarcastically, attempting to wash myself up in the sink. He blinked at me. Apparently he had overlooked that part of the equation for morning sickness.
The topic of Gerald's temper was also perhaps not the best one to bring up.
He was still silent when he helped me back into bed and methodically straightened the sheet around me. Fantastic. Was he still worrying? "It wasn't your fault, you know." I blurted out. He looked at me, surprised. Then he grinned, and the old Jon was back again. "Telepaths should really be locked up. Especially her. She's been onto my case since all this started, the little gossip. But, really, it's better to see you up and about. Though I don't know if falling off the bed and puking up your stomach really counts as 'up and about'." I decided to ignore his nasty expression as he peered over into the wastebasket. "Where's she now anyway?"
Come to think of it, when was now? How long had I been sleeping, anyway? "Finding breakfast." was Jon's reply "I was supposed to wake you up. Celia opted out of it, she hasn't really got good bedside manner" I laughed. "'Bedside manner'! So I guess that remark about morning sickness is your twisted version of bedside manner?" "Well, I haven't really had a lot of practice." he drawled suggestively. I threw the pillow at him.
It wasn't much longer until Celia pushed open the door, holding breakfast. "Will you be able to eat this?" she asked me, showing us a packet of sweet cinnamon rolls. "Sugary and entirely non-healthy" she added. "I'll try!" I replied, reaching over to attack the infuriating plastic wrap. I love cinnamon rolls. "Yeah, just 'try' to not throw up this time, huh?" Jon teased as he dragged the smelly trashcan out of the room.
~~Feeling better are you? ~~ said Celia sarcastically ~~you're grinning like a little idiot~~ ~~Hey, at least I'm 'cheered up'~~ I replied, licking the frosting off my chin.
Jon was blissfully unaware of this little exchange as he rejoined us and grabbed a cinnamon roll.
A/N: I've always commented on how in the marvel universe the telepaths (and empaths) seem to be the only ones who can tell what people are really feeling. The problem is that they're all so 'honorable' that they don't snoop into other people's minds. (Well, Emma does. I liked her in the very first comic I read of her, but that was when she wasn't trying to seduce unwitting reporters or Scott or anything) So what do we make of Celia the gossip? heehee.
Ah yes. ~~Click the little blue box.~~ ~~Click it I say!~~
