Ruby opened her eyes. She'd been resting on the couch, and she'd
fallen asleep. She wasn't sure what had awakened her. Had she been
dreaming?
As she sat up, her eyes fell on the piece of paper with Richard's address. It was still sitting on her coffee table, and she hadn't unfolded it since James had given it to her.
She reached a hand toward it then pulled back.
Someone – /i – knocked at her door.
She jumped up and opened the door. He was leaning against the rail of her little porch, looking back across the school grounds, and holding a six-pack of MGD. The bottles looked cold.
He looked at her and grinned when she opened the door.
"Not casserole!" she said by way of greeting.
He chuckled and held the beer out to her, then hesitated, eyeing her doubtfully. "Are you old enough to have this?"
She blinked, then said, "Well, I'm technically sixty-three, so what do you think?"
He laughed again. "Fair enough."
She leaned back. "Come on in. It's not much." She waved a hand to indicate her humble abode.
"Sometimes you don't need much." He preceded her to the kitchen and opened the fridge to deposit his beer. "Whoa, you weren't kidding, were you?"
"I only wish," she lamented, looking over his shoulder at the casseroles crammed on every shelf.
"What's this green one?" he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.
"It's either green beans or it's been in there too long."
Logan managed to fit four of the bottle into the fridge by taking them out of the box. He kept two of them out and followed her back to the living room. There were still pillows on the floor that she'd thrown off the couch during her nap. They sat, and he opened one of the bottles, handed it to her, and opened the other for himself.
"Thanks," she said, just holding the cool bottle for a moment.
He looked at her and raised his bottle a little, surprising her with a toast. "To people who are older than they look."
She laughed and toasted with him. "Hollywood thanks you. And to finally having a friend, in my new when."
He toasted that quite gravely.
They drank in silence for a few minutes. Logan finished his drink much more quickly than she did, and set the bottle on the table next to Richard's address.
He broke the silence, leaning back comfortably in her couch. "If you don't mind my askin', how exactly does this vision stuff of yours work."
She shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes when I see or hear something, or touch someone, I get images. Flashes. Only... it's like I'm there, watching. I can hear and smell and see everything. But afterwards I usually don't remember. Well, I usually didn't before – before. I think I've had more visions in the last month than I ever did... before." She stopped talking, suppressing a shudder at the thought of that first week of the horrible onslaught of imagery.
Logan regarded her with deep interest. "So you don't have any control over what you see, or when?" Did he seem a little disappointed?
She shook her head, looking at her beer instead of him. "Not when it's like that."
He seemed surprised. "There's another way?"
Now she looked at him. "Yes. But only since I got here. Now." She went back to tracing patterns on the condensation of her bottle. "When I think about it, I can tell what's going to happen, right before it does. Only a few seconds before. I see it, in red like an afterimage. I, ah, I call it a foreimage."
He looked completely fascinated by now. "And you can control it? You can do that whenever you want?"
She nodded. "I seem to be. I've always been able to when I've tried it, so far. I have at least as much control over it as I do with – " She cut herself off. She wasn't sure how most mutants would feel about her other talent.
"With what?" he pressed.
"Ah, well," she hedged. "You know how my father pushed me into the future? I can do something like that."
"What. Like. That?" he asked very deliberately.
"I can, if I touch another mutant, push their powers into the future."
"You can do what?" he almost yelled. Ruby shrank away from him a little. "I'm sorry. That's just... well." He looked at her sharply. "You can do that to any mutant?"
"I... I don't know. I used to – my brother would take things. I was the only one who could get them back."
Logan laughed. "I bet Guns – ah, James – loved that."
Ruby smiled uncertainly and continued. "My brother and father are the only mutants I ever used the power on. Mostly because my father...." She faltered a little then continued. "My father was really intrigued by psychic mutations. So I had a chance to fine-tune it pretty well. As in, how far into the future the power would go."
Logan thought for a minute. "Try it on me," he said suddenly.
"Are you sure?" she hesitated, but he nodded decisively. "How long?"
"Two minutes?" He said it as a question, as though to make sure she really had that much control.
Eyes steady on his, she reached out to touch his arm. She focused.
His breath hissed out in reaction, and for the first time she wondered just what it was the other mutant felt when she used this power.
"There." She removed her hand. "If it worked, you shouldn't be able to use your power for two minutes." She took a sip of beer.
Logan looked at his hand suspiciously. He closed it into a fist, and three long, steely claws shot out of it.
Ruby almost choked.
He looked back at her. "Well, that still works." The claws disappeared just as quickly, leaving three bleeding cuts between his knuckles. He stared at them.
"I guess it doesn't work on all mutants," Ruby said, obscurely disappointed. "Do you, ah, want a bandage or something for that?"
"Wait." He kept looking at his knuckles. "How much longer?"
Ruby hid her confusion. "I don't know. Another thirty seconds?" They watched his hand, Ruby perplexed.
Logan sat for another moment, then rubbed his knuckles with his other hand. The skin beneath the blood was whole.
"Oh," Ruby breathed.
Logan met her eyes. "Normally it heals too fast to bleed."
"So... it worked?"
"Looks like it."
Ruby stood abruptly. She went into the kitchen, got a washcloth and dampened it. She stood behind the couch and held out her hand. Logan gave her his bloodied hand and she wiped it clean.
iHe snarled. Logan spun and fought off another attacker. They were shooting him, overwhelming him. There were too many. His entire body was slick with sweat and blood, but he kept fighting. /i
She had fallen to her knees. Logan had jumped over the back of the couch and was kneeling before her, holding her shoulders. She gasped as he came into focus.
"What did you see?"
Ruby shook her head, still fighting for air. "I don't... I didn't understand it." Not true – she'd never seen anything so clearly. She didn't know how or why, but she knew that for some reason Logan had been there because of her.
She didn't want to tell him. She avoided looking at him as he picked up the washrag and took it back to the kitchen.
When he came back she was sitting on the couch again. He sat beside her and handed her a glass of water.
"Thanks."
He grunted a response. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
"You doing anything tomorrow?" he asked.
"Nope."
He was silent for a minute, thinking. "You want to learn to fight?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His expression was blank.
She didn't have anything better to do.
"Okay."
"I'll come get you tomorrow morning."
She saw him arriving at her door at 5:30 in an attempt to catch her off guard. She grinned. "Sounds good to me."
As she sat up, her eyes fell on the piece of paper with Richard's address. It was still sitting on her coffee table, and she hadn't unfolded it since James had given it to her.
She reached a hand toward it then pulled back.
Someone – /i – knocked at her door.
She jumped up and opened the door. He was leaning against the rail of her little porch, looking back across the school grounds, and holding a six-pack of MGD. The bottles looked cold.
He looked at her and grinned when she opened the door.
"Not casserole!" she said by way of greeting.
He chuckled and held the beer out to her, then hesitated, eyeing her doubtfully. "Are you old enough to have this?"
She blinked, then said, "Well, I'm technically sixty-three, so what do you think?"
He laughed again. "Fair enough."
She leaned back. "Come on in. It's not much." She waved a hand to indicate her humble abode.
"Sometimes you don't need much." He preceded her to the kitchen and opened the fridge to deposit his beer. "Whoa, you weren't kidding, were you?"
"I only wish," she lamented, looking over his shoulder at the casseroles crammed on every shelf.
"What's this green one?" he asked, a hint of amusement coloring his voice.
"It's either green beans or it's been in there too long."
Logan managed to fit four of the bottle into the fridge by taking them out of the box. He kept two of them out and followed her back to the living room. There were still pillows on the floor that she'd thrown off the couch during her nap. They sat, and he opened one of the bottles, handed it to her, and opened the other for himself.
"Thanks," she said, just holding the cool bottle for a moment.
He looked at her and raised his bottle a little, surprising her with a toast. "To people who are older than they look."
She laughed and toasted with him. "Hollywood thanks you. And to finally having a friend, in my new when."
He toasted that quite gravely.
They drank in silence for a few minutes. Logan finished his drink much more quickly than she did, and set the bottle on the table next to Richard's address.
He broke the silence, leaning back comfortably in her couch. "If you don't mind my askin', how exactly does this vision stuff of yours work."
She shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes when I see or hear something, or touch someone, I get images. Flashes. Only... it's like I'm there, watching. I can hear and smell and see everything. But afterwards I usually don't remember. Well, I usually didn't before – before. I think I've had more visions in the last month than I ever did... before." She stopped talking, suppressing a shudder at the thought of that first week of the horrible onslaught of imagery.
Logan regarded her with deep interest. "So you don't have any control over what you see, or when?" Did he seem a little disappointed?
She shook her head, looking at her beer instead of him. "Not when it's like that."
He seemed surprised. "There's another way?"
Now she looked at him. "Yes. But only since I got here. Now." She went back to tracing patterns on the condensation of her bottle. "When I think about it, I can tell what's going to happen, right before it does. Only a few seconds before. I see it, in red like an afterimage. I, ah, I call it a foreimage."
He looked completely fascinated by now. "And you can control it? You can do that whenever you want?"
She nodded. "I seem to be. I've always been able to when I've tried it, so far. I have at least as much control over it as I do with – " She cut herself off. She wasn't sure how most mutants would feel about her other talent.
"With what?" he pressed.
"Ah, well," she hedged. "You know how my father pushed me into the future? I can do something like that."
"What. Like. That?" he asked very deliberately.
"I can, if I touch another mutant, push their powers into the future."
"You can do what?" he almost yelled. Ruby shrank away from him a little. "I'm sorry. That's just... well." He looked at her sharply. "You can do that to any mutant?"
"I... I don't know. I used to – my brother would take things. I was the only one who could get them back."
Logan laughed. "I bet Guns – ah, James – loved that."
Ruby smiled uncertainly and continued. "My brother and father are the only mutants I ever used the power on. Mostly because my father...." She faltered a little then continued. "My father was really intrigued by psychic mutations. So I had a chance to fine-tune it pretty well. As in, how far into the future the power would go."
Logan thought for a minute. "Try it on me," he said suddenly.
"Are you sure?" she hesitated, but he nodded decisively. "How long?"
"Two minutes?" He said it as a question, as though to make sure she really had that much control.
Eyes steady on his, she reached out to touch his arm. She focused.
His breath hissed out in reaction, and for the first time she wondered just what it was the other mutant felt when she used this power.
"There." She removed her hand. "If it worked, you shouldn't be able to use your power for two minutes." She took a sip of beer.
Logan looked at his hand suspiciously. He closed it into a fist, and three long, steely claws shot out of it.
Ruby almost choked.
He looked back at her. "Well, that still works." The claws disappeared just as quickly, leaving three bleeding cuts between his knuckles. He stared at them.
"I guess it doesn't work on all mutants," Ruby said, obscurely disappointed. "Do you, ah, want a bandage or something for that?"
"Wait." He kept looking at his knuckles. "How much longer?"
Ruby hid her confusion. "I don't know. Another thirty seconds?" They watched his hand, Ruby perplexed.
Logan sat for another moment, then rubbed his knuckles with his other hand. The skin beneath the blood was whole.
"Oh," Ruby breathed.
Logan met her eyes. "Normally it heals too fast to bleed."
"So... it worked?"
"Looks like it."
Ruby stood abruptly. She went into the kitchen, got a washcloth and dampened it. She stood behind the couch and held out her hand. Logan gave her his bloodied hand and she wiped it clean.
iHe snarled. Logan spun and fought off another attacker. They were shooting him, overwhelming him. There were too many. His entire body was slick with sweat and blood, but he kept fighting. /i
She had fallen to her knees. Logan had jumped over the back of the couch and was kneeling before her, holding her shoulders. She gasped as he came into focus.
"What did you see?"
Ruby shook her head, still fighting for air. "I don't... I didn't understand it." Not true – she'd never seen anything so clearly. She didn't know how or why, but she knew that for some reason Logan had been there because of her.
She didn't want to tell him. She avoided looking at him as he picked up the washrag and took it back to the kitchen.
When he came back she was sitting on the couch again. He sat beside her and handed her a glass of water.
"Thanks."
He grunted a response. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.
"You doing anything tomorrow?" he asked.
"Nope."
He was silent for a minute, thinking. "You want to learn to fight?"
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His expression was blank.
She didn't have anything better to do.
"Okay."
"I'll come get you tomorrow morning."
She saw him arriving at her door at 5:30 in an attempt to catch her off guard. She grinned. "Sounds good to me."