DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'Mutant X'. They're not
my property. They belong to Tribune Entertainment.
***
*********
Jesse observed the heavy clouds; they were ready to burst out and release all the rain they had within them. He could tell the impatience which they had to be rid of the extreme amount of water. He imagined the feeling of weightlessness afterwards they would have... Can clouds feel?
He smiled to himself. He thought that Adam was still alive not so long ago... such a naïve boy. Everyone managed to escape but them; the four mutants left by themselves. No longer with a father, a mentor... Someone that could always, in some way, be with them.
He expected to feel worse after they returned here. The experiments, the sick "therapy", being lab rats. Shalimar told them. She told them everything. He should feel safe now, relieved, parted from danger. But that did not happen. He did not forget what his mind went through; what he felt, saw or heard. That was and continued to be real for him. He couldn't forget that. It was in there forever; it couldn't be removed. He wished it wasn't, though. Jesse wished that even Adam's death was one of those hallucinations; a fabrication of some mutated, carnivorous virus. He then glanced behind him... It was empty. It was real.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and thankful that at least Shalimar's death was not real. That could kill him. He did not wish to think further of it. Too much pain went through him; and too much of it made a home inside him, without ever intending on leaving him. His eyes moved over to the person standing next to him, observing the sky just as he had done. She was beautiful. Shalimar was always a beautiful woman. It was only a shame that she belonged to someone else now. He placed his hand on her shoulder, touching it. It felt weaker than he'd known; more tense although her shoulders should let the peace of this shelter take over them, run through the nerves, muscles, bones to relax them. She was safer here, all of them were. Her face turned to his slowly. She smiled and then returned her eyes to the clouds once more.
It was colder today. The weather matched with the little bits of strange and mixed emotions he kept feeling inside. After Emma recovers, Brennan and Shalimar would return as a couple although not quite on a solid ground. Shalimar was not certain of their future as much as Brennan probably was. Nevertheless, Jesse wished he were Brennan... At least he would get to touch her and caress her softly because he could, because he had permission and because she would respond to it with delight.
Was the Molecular jealous? "Unlikely," he told himself. Could there be hope? Maybe. After all... never say never.
He did panic when he saw her lying on the floor that day. Caleb was gone. No one saw him again; no one knew what happened to him. She wasn't really hurt but rather, still tired. He took her to her room and stayed with her, just watching her because he wanted to; since it felt good to watch her rest. The next day she was fine. She was almost back to normal. That was a good sign, he hoped. Jesse hated seeing Shalimar hurt because it hurt him.
"Shal?" he called her.
"Yeah?" she turned to him once more.
Jesse smiled and leaned forward, kissing her cheek. "It's good to have you back," he whispered.
She tapped his cheek playfully. "Thanks. I just hope things will manage to get back to normal as much as possible..."
Jesse kissed her cheek again and turned his face forward. They just might....
*********
The first drop of heavy rain fell with a loud thump on the glass surface of the window along with another tear from the inner cave behind her blue eye. That one year was heavily multiplied by another one. What could be worse - she wondered. The inner hallways of her body were having a difficult time grinding the yet spiky rock that blocked important pathways for her stable emotions to flow through.
The mug did not leave the warmth of her chest as she kept it tightly against the soft fabric of her clothing. Such a horrible day it was and she couldn't let it go. Her eyes shut briefly as a clear image of her friends' bodies soaked in blood stood in remembrance. Not feeling brave enough to look deeper into each color and frame, Emma unveiled the black and no less depressing present.
The invisible air in front of her eyes materialized a young woman in a silky nightgown. She walked barefooted on the cold floor with the icy tiles snapping at the soles; the air was eerily cold and it did nothing to encourage her of a calming nothingness. She gazed with fear and trembling skin over the unnaturally peaceful faces of her friends. There was no sign of agony on them, letting a person foolishly to believe that they had anticipated a peaceful death, but the bloody traces around them, the stiffened fingers, and the curled bodies could contradict that derisive mask of deception. Her mind heard only silence, felt only silence, and smelled only silence. It was a dry, decaying silence. No other life was here except hers; no other heart beating or lips gasping for air. She was alone. Emma was an orphaned friend walking helplessly amongst her lifeless teammates. She should've heard the earlier chaos, the screams, the ruthless shredding of life. But she was asleep, unable to sense anything or feel anything distant enough from her mind, outside of her head. Was it her fault? Would she have made any difference if her senses alerted her in time? Answer unknown. For now however, she could only return and watch the same horrifying picture over and over again.
Emma would have given into that image with such intensity that even her heart would have shed a tear had it not been for the repetitive and sudden calling of her name. The image vaporized into the thinned and breathable air when her head abruptly turned to her left side to meet the warm color of Brennan's eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked her.
She stared at him with an overwhelming relief represented in petrified stillness. Her lung could not hold the pressure any longer and she released the forcefully kept air inside her. "The dream..."
"Again?" there was concern in his voice.
Emma nodded briefly. "Yeah. It was just very real... it freaks me out y'know. Adam's gone and when I was walking there among you, I..." she sighed, "I felt so alone. I don't want to feel alone, Bren." Her heart did not spare the honest words.
Brennan brushed her cheek and felt its trembling. "We're still here, Em. That stupid dream won't get to you." His words were so solid and certain that they could have easily provided a safe wall for the Psionic against such disturbing imagery.
Emma's eyes fell on the empty hole inside the mug. She wished she had the same emptiness inside her but instead a confusing mess was brewing continuously of moments from the past and present. Gloomy and unsettling.
Setting the mug down, she sat up and took a deep breath. Her eyes remained on the floor for a second before slowly reaching the same level as Brennan's. She took a step forward and embraced her friend tightly. Her chin found a place and rested in a comfortable burrow made from his woolen sweater while her eyes stared blankly in front. "Some things I can remember so clearly, but others... there's nothing. It worries me," she said.
Brennan created a tight belt around her waist with his arms as he understood her worry. Who knows what Felicia had done to her. The treatment seemed to have been working fortunately, and it has been almost two months that have passed. The recovery did not reach its full circle, however. Emma was still fragile; her mind was still adjusting, still recovering. She would need more rest. She could not be left alone now and especially not by him. "Take your time," he responded although from what he and Jesse had heard from Shalimar, it would be better for some memories to never return in Emma's mind.
Everything became so complicated after Adam's death: every relationship, every friendship... little made sense for a long time. Brennan's own relationship with Shalimar became quiet, almost transparent with a fading, greenish flame that was once as bright and red as the color of young blood. The reason for that was probably the emotional torture everyone had endured. But such torture should cement the void and push them closer together, shouldn't it? Right now though, it was the opposite for a barely explainable reason.
Maybe, when the recovery would finish its cycle for Emma and everyone else that things would return to normal as much as it is possible. His concern for his friend was unfair that it could run a few miles forward, before anything else. But it was difficult to do otherwise. Emma was his friend. The others were alright... to some degree, a very high one... she - wasn't. She needed him even if she said nothing. He knew this.
C.S. Lewis once said: "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival." These moments showed that. She needed him and she needed Shalimar and Jesse. But she needed *him*. She sought a leaning post, a secure blanket that would wrap itself around her and prevent further harm done to her... he could not promise its eternity but he could try to give it a long life.
"Shalimar and Jesse are on the balcony. Wanna go join them?" he whispered to her.
"Yeah," Emma smiled briefly to not reveal a miserable face and separated herself from him.
Brennan took her hand and slowly walked out of the room with Emma.
THE END
~ Thank you to everyone that gave their opinion on this story. Every review was delightful to read, regardless if it was a compliment or harsh criticism. :o) ~
***
*********
Jesse observed the heavy clouds; they were ready to burst out and release all the rain they had within them. He could tell the impatience which they had to be rid of the extreme amount of water. He imagined the feeling of weightlessness afterwards they would have... Can clouds feel?
He smiled to himself. He thought that Adam was still alive not so long ago... such a naïve boy. Everyone managed to escape but them; the four mutants left by themselves. No longer with a father, a mentor... Someone that could always, in some way, be with them.
He expected to feel worse after they returned here. The experiments, the sick "therapy", being lab rats. Shalimar told them. She told them everything. He should feel safe now, relieved, parted from danger. But that did not happen. He did not forget what his mind went through; what he felt, saw or heard. That was and continued to be real for him. He couldn't forget that. It was in there forever; it couldn't be removed. He wished it wasn't, though. Jesse wished that even Adam's death was one of those hallucinations; a fabrication of some mutated, carnivorous virus. He then glanced behind him... It was empty. It was real.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and thankful that at least Shalimar's death was not real. That could kill him. He did not wish to think further of it. Too much pain went through him; and too much of it made a home inside him, without ever intending on leaving him. His eyes moved over to the person standing next to him, observing the sky just as he had done. She was beautiful. Shalimar was always a beautiful woman. It was only a shame that she belonged to someone else now. He placed his hand on her shoulder, touching it. It felt weaker than he'd known; more tense although her shoulders should let the peace of this shelter take over them, run through the nerves, muscles, bones to relax them. She was safer here, all of them were. Her face turned to his slowly. She smiled and then returned her eyes to the clouds once more.
It was colder today. The weather matched with the little bits of strange and mixed emotions he kept feeling inside. After Emma recovers, Brennan and Shalimar would return as a couple although not quite on a solid ground. Shalimar was not certain of their future as much as Brennan probably was. Nevertheless, Jesse wished he were Brennan... At least he would get to touch her and caress her softly because he could, because he had permission and because she would respond to it with delight.
Was the Molecular jealous? "Unlikely," he told himself. Could there be hope? Maybe. After all... never say never.
He did panic when he saw her lying on the floor that day. Caleb was gone. No one saw him again; no one knew what happened to him. She wasn't really hurt but rather, still tired. He took her to her room and stayed with her, just watching her because he wanted to; since it felt good to watch her rest. The next day she was fine. She was almost back to normal. That was a good sign, he hoped. Jesse hated seeing Shalimar hurt because it hurt him.
"Shal?" he called her.
"Yeah?" she turned to him once more.
Jesse smiled and leaned forward, kissing her cheek. "It's good to have you back," he whispered.
She tapped his cheek playfully. "Thanks. I just hope things will manage to get back to normal as much as possible..."
Jesse kissed her cheek again and turned his face forward. They just might....
*********
The first drop of heavy rain fell with a loud thump on the glass surface of the window along with another tear from the inner cave behind her blue eye. That one year was heavily multiplied by another one. What could be worse - she wondered. The inner hallways of her body were having a difficult time grinding the yet spiky rock that blocked important pathways for her stable emotions to flow through.
The mug did not leave the warmth of her chest as she kept it tightly against the soft fabric of her clothing. Such a horrible day it was and she couldn't let it go. Her eyes shut briefly as a clear image of her friends' bodies soaked in blood stood in remembrance. Not feeling brave enough to look deeper into each color and frame, Emma unveiled the black and no less depressing present.
The invisible air in front of her eyes materialized a young woman in a silky nightgown. She walked barefooted on the cold floor with the icy tiles snapping at the soles; the air was eerily cold and it did nothing to encourage her of a calming nothingness. She gazed with fear and trembling skin over the unnaturally peaceful faces of her friends. There was no sign of agony on them, letting a person foolishly to believe that they had anticipated a peaceful death, but the bloody traces around them, the stiffened fingers, and the curled bodies could contradict that derisive mask of deception. Her mind heard only silence, felt only silence, and smelled only silence. It was a dry, decaying silence. No other life was here except hers; no other heart beating or lips gasping for air. She was alone. Emma was an orphaned friend walking helplessly amongst her lifeless teammates. She should've heard the earlier chaos, the screams, the ruthless shredding of life. But she was asleep, unable to sense anything or feel anything distant enough from her mind, outside of her head. Was it her fault? Would she have made any difference if her senses alerted her in time? Answer unknown. For now however, she could only return and watch the same horrifying picture over and over again.
Emma would have given into that image with such intensity that even her heart would have shed a tear had it not been for the repetitive and sudden calling of her name. The image vaporized into the thinned and breathable air when her head abruptly turned to her left side to meet the warm color of Brennan's eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked her.
She stared at him with an overwhelming relief represented in petrified stillness. Her lung could not hold the pressure any longer and she released the forcefully kept air inside her. "The dream..."
"Again?" there was concern in his voice.
Emma nodded briefly. "Yeah. It was just very real... it freaks me out y'know. Adam's gone and when I was walking there among you, I..." she sighed, "I felt so alone. I don't want to feel alone, Bren." Her heart did not spare the honest words.
Brennan brushed her cheek and felt its trembling. "We're still here, Em. That stupid dream won't get to you." His words were so solid and certain that they could have easily provided a safe wall for the Psionic against such disturbing imagery.
Emma's eyes fell on the empty hole inside the mug. She wished she had the same emptiness inside her but instead a confusing mess was brewing continuously of moments from the past and present. Gloomy and unsettling.
Setting the mug down, she sat up and took a deep breath. Her eyes remained on the floor for a second before slowly reaching the same level as Brennan's. She took a step forward and embraced her friend tightly. Her chin found a place and rested in a comfortable burrow made from his woolen sweater while her eyes stared blankly in front. "Some things I can remember so clearly, but others... there's nothing. It worries me," she said.
Brennan created a tight belt around her waist with his arms as he understood her worry. Who knows what Felicia had done to her. The treatment seemed to have been working fortunately, and it has been almost two months that have passed. The recovery did not reach its full circle, however. Emma was still fragile; her mind was still adjusting, still recovering. She would need more rest. She could not be left alone now and especially not by him. "Take your time," he responded although from what he and Jesse had heard from Shalimar, it would be better for some memories to never return in Emma's mind.
Everything became so complicated after Adam's death: every relationship, every friendship... little made sense for a long time. Brennan's own relationship with Shalimar became quiet, almost transparent with a fading, greenish flame that was once as bright and red as the color of young blood. The reason for that was probably the emotional torture everyone had endured. But such torture should cement the void and push them closer together, shouldn't it? Right now though, it was the opposite for a barely explainable reason.
Maybe, when the recovery would finish its cycle for Emma and everyone else that things would return to normal as much as it is possible. His concern for his friend was unfair that it could run a few miles forward, before anything else. But it was difficult to do otherwise. Emma was his friend. The others were alright... to some degree, a very high one... she - wasn't. She needed him even if she said nothing. He knew this.
C.S. Lewis once said: "Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival." These moments showed that. She needed him and she needed Shalimar and Jesse. But she needed *him*. She sought a leaning post, a secure blanket that would wrap itself around her and prevent further harm done to her... he could not promise its eternity but he could try to give it a long life.
"Shalimar and Jesse are on the balcony. Wanna go join them?" he whispered to her.
"Yeah," Emma smiled briefly to not reveal a miserable face and separated herself from him.
Brennan took her hand and slowly walked out of the room with Emma.
THE END
~ Thank you to everyone that gave their opinion on this story. Every review was delightful to read, regardless if it was a compliment or harsh criticism. :o) ~