Sorry for the delay in chappie! My internet was being dumb again!
Anyway, I love the reviews, thank you so much! I'm glad you really like it, here's chappie five!
Ice Lynx
Steph could hear laughter and as she turned around she suddenly found herself in a bright, silver colored hall, facing a door to what looked like a scientist's lab. Someone was standing in the background, their face blurry as they idly played with a football. Steph looked to her left and found the blue man not two feet away from her, laughing and holding a little girl with hair like Steph's, her face hidden in the man's chest.
"I fear Sam likes the other type of treat though," the blue man said, smiling at the tiny girl as he talked to Steph.
"Sam?" Steph repeated, looking around.
The man smiled and nodded. "Of course, she misses you."
"Why would she miss me? Who are you?" Steph said, her voice suddenly vibrating like it had done in the bar. The blue man and the person in back of him grunted, falling to the floor as Steph's head seemed to explode in pain.
Turning, she fled from the room and found herself running down a street. Up ahead of her she saw the bar sign she had seen the night before and she raced for it, but a spotlight hit her, blinding her.
"You're going back next Thursday?" a voice asked.
"Back where?" She blinked.
"But mutants aren't human," whispered the voice.
Steph stopped as the light went out and she found herself on a stage, a sea of young, semi-interested faces staring back at her. As she watched them she noticed that some of their faces were darkening, becoming black and losing all the other colors. Slowly, then faster the faces darkened until Steph heard a crack, like lightening, and when she looked up she saw the roof falling down.
Suddenly other faces replaced those of the students still waiting and watching her, faces that seemed to smile at her while looking grim at the same time.
Where a young girl had sat there was now a gruff-looking man with short hair, who held a small dark-skinned girl and a fairer little girl of about the same age. Another girl had suddenly gotten green eyes and brown hair that had white streaks in it, a young man with brown hair and icey blue eyes was sitting next to her with an arm around her. In back of them the blue man sat with the little girl he had been holding before, snuggling against his fur while holding onto the hand of a chocolate-cream colored woman with white hair. Beyond them more and more faces re-appeared, different than they had been before, some obviously mutants, others looking human, though Steph got the impression that they were also mutant.
The roof hit, and Steph tumbled into darkness, her head aching and arm throbbing as a small pale girl holding a doll tugged at her arm.
"The Blackbird doesn't bounce," she said nervously.
"Hey chere, wakey-wakey!" Remy said, grinning at her as Steph opened her eyes. Yawning she sat up and stretched, her coat falling off her partly as she sat up. Then she stopped as she remembered the strange dream she had had.
She sighed, guessing that the faces in the crowd were those of people she had known before...before the roof had fallen on her. Steph shuddered as the dream came back vividly, wondering if it was more memory. She just couldn't tell. But there was a name.… Sam?
The blue man had been holding the child and indicating her as he said the name, was that her child? A girl named Sam? Steph was beginning to get very frustrated, if she had a daughter and a family she wanted to know about them, and she wanted to get back to them!
"What?" she said as Remy put his hand on her uninjured arm.
He smiled and pointed at the windows, where sunlight was softly filtering in. Steph noticed that he had replaced his sunglasses and was wearing his coat again.
"Curfew lifted a couple hours ago, but y' wouldn't wake," he said. "C'mon, we can go look at my place now, den see if we can find where you can get a way home."
Steph nodded and stood up, grimacing as her arm started to ache again. She looked at it, carefully noting as she gently squeezed it and coughed from the pain that ensued that the discomfort was coming from the upper part of her arm, right below the shoulder. From the feel she guessed it was broken but set correctly, she could find something to secure it later.
As she stood she noticed that most of the men in the bar were gone, only the bartender seemed awake and moving.
"Afternoon," he said sleepily, nodding at Steph.
"Yeah," she replied slowly. Seeing the coffee cup still on the table she pulled out her wallet and looked up. "How much...?" she said.
The bartender shook his head.
"Nothing at all miss, it was a mite stale anyway, in case you didn't notice," he said.
"Thanks," Steph mumbled.
"We'd better be goin' chere," Remy said and Steph nodded, following him out the door and onto the street.
There were more people out there, bustling about, looking hassled, many in rumpled clothing, also caught unprepared by the curfew. Steph held her broken arm close and kept her head down and coat tight, following Remy as he wound through the crowds and down streets. She had no idea where he was taking her, but she also had no idea where she was, and something about the way her voice had vibrated the night before told her flying wasn't the only special talent she had.
"Here we are," Remy said at last, going down a narrow alley and opening a door to reveal a small room. Steph looked around as she ducked her head and entered, seeing a couch, a television, small table, and kitchen area in one corner, another door slightly open to reveal a dingy bathroom. Plaster was peeling off the stained walls and the floor was granite, a ratty carpet pulled under the couch and television area.
Remy sighed as he came in, kicking some of the many food wrappers in the area aside.
"Ain't much t' look at, but no one looks for a livin' hole down here," he said, smiling. "An' it's better den a jail cell."
"Yer not from England are ya?" Steph asked. giving him a questioning look.
Remy shook his head, still smiling. "I'm from de United States, like you chere. I'm over here for a while though, de cops in America are lookin' for me back home."
Steph stared at him.
"Yer a criminal," she said, arching an eyebrow. "What did ya do?"
"What I still do," Remy laughed. "I'm a t'ief, de best life for a guy like me, though I still know how t' fit in wit de higher classes."
Steph blinked and wondered what she was going to accomplish with such a man helping her.
Remy seemed to read her mind as he chuckled.
"I don' have much of a record in England yet," he said, as if it would assure her.
"Yet," Steph repeated, sighing. "How do ya think I'll get back home?"
"Plane," Remy said, nodding and thinking as he turned on the television, flipping to the news and sitting on the couch. "I bet dat's de way you'll get back."
"But ya said there were no more planes," Steph said puzzledly, and Remy nodded.
"But you were on de news," he said.
Steph gaped at him. "What?"
Remy nodded. "Still are. You go t' de hospital, dey may recognize you n' send ya back home." Steph shook her head and he shrugged. "Only one idea."
"I- ow," Steph grimaced as her arm twinged painfully.
Remy sat up quickly."You ok?"
"No," Steph said, teeth gritted. "I think I broke my arm."
Remy's eyebrows shot up.
"N' wit a head wound like dat," he said, shaking his head. "You definitely need t' go to a hospital, Steph. I ain't a doctor."
"But I heard they were all full," she said. Remy shrugged.
"Y' have t' try," he said. "I know one nearby. Den we can start lookin' for a way t' get you home."
"Not yet," she said. "Too tired, I need to sleep."
Remy smiled and got up off the couch. "Den we'll go t'morrow. Probably couldn't make it now before de curfew anyway. Get some sleep, chere. In de morning you can go get fixed up."
Steph nodded, sinking on the couch gratefully and using her coat for a blanket, she put her head on the pillow, still holding her arm tightly as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
-
"Remy, why're ya doing this?" Steph asked the next day after she had woken and eaten some of the odd tasting food Remy had given her. "Why're ya helpin' a complete stranger?"
"Never could let a beautiful woman in need pass me by," he said, grinning and shrugging.
Steph's eyebrow shot up. "So yer helpin' me because I'm pretty?"
Remy laughed. "And 'cause maybe helpin' de big mutant spokes-gal will redeem me in de eyes of de police, whenever I get back home."
Steph rolled her eyes.
"So ya are in this for yourself," she said.
"Only partially, chere," Remy said, shrugging. Then he pointed at the television. "See? Dey still lookin' for you, only dey t'ink you're dead..."
Steph's eyes widened as she sat on the arm of the couch and watched the TV, looking at the debris filling the picture until the screen changed and five photographs appeared. Remy pointed to one, but Steph had already located her own face as he turned up the volume. A reporter's voice filled the small room.
"…Though civilian casualties remain high, rescuers are also continuing their search for the four missing politicians show here, and the young American mutant representative Steph Logan McCoy. It is believed that all five are possibly dead, but the search for them and the rest of the civilian population trapped by the wreckage of the bombings continues twenty four hours a day."
Remy turned off the television, nodded at Steph, then got up and walked to the door, opening it and bowing to her.
"After de famous mutie rep," he said, smiling.
Steph rolled her eyes again and walked out.
"I wish being famous told me who I was," she grumbled.
