Author's note:  Oops, forgot the disclaimer.  I own nothing in regards to the characters portrayed in this story...or much else for that matter.  :-)

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Chapter Three:

            At a bus station just outside of Des Moines, Charlie McGee sat at a small table in one corner of the coffee shop, staring down at her uneaten danish blankly.  She knew she should be hungry, it had been almost twelve hours since the last time she ate, but nothing seemed even slightly appealing.

            She took a sip of her coffee, and leaned her head against her hand.  She had not spoken to anyone for the entire trip, and no one had tried to speak to her.  That was fine, considering she really had nothing to say.

            Scattered through the terminal were several televisions mounted from the ceiling, and aside from the steady rumble of arriving and departing buses, it was the only sound that Charlie paid any attention to.  There were several programs blaring at once; one television showing sports, another showing a random soap opera but most had been tuned to the local news station. 

            Charlie glanced up at the screen nearest to her and took another sip of her coffee.  There was a female anchor talking about business news, about how the numbers on Wall Street were up in some areas and down in other areas.  Her monotone voice and the steady, repetitious flow of numbers was enough to put anyone to sleep.  Charlie sighed, and drained the remainder of the hot coffee in one long draft.  The sting against her throat jolted her out of her daze, and she debated whether or not anther cup for the road would be a good idea.

            Crumbling the cup in the palm of her hand, Charlie stood and picked up her bag, leaving her breakfast pastry behind.  As she passed under one television, the picture suddenly changed, and a red banner reading 'Breaking News' flashed above the reporter's head.

            "This just in..." the deeper voice of a male anchor announced somberly, "Government officials are now confirming reports of a series of explosions in a small town in Colorado.  The plume of fire that lit the sky Wednesday night was visible for almost fifty miles, though no explanation for the explosions has been offered by authorities..."

            Charlie froze beneath the television as the man spoke, and closed her eyes.  She took a few steps forward, to avoiding seeing the screen and took a long breath.  When she opened her eyes, they fell upon another television that had been changed to the news channel.  Curious travelers were shifting their attention to the news, maybe to catch a safe glimpse of the far off chaos.

            The anchorman continued, "...to our Colorado affiliate.  Have you learned anything new about the tragedy?"

            The screen changed to a tired looking man standing in the middle of a ruined street.

            "No, Tom, we haven't," the field reported said, "Although the number of casualties reported by the local police has risen to fifty-two..."

            With a few quick steps, Charlie was heading toward the terminal's restrooms.  She struggled not to collapse as she maneuvered her heavy canvas bag around the televisions' gaping audience.

            Charlie stumbled into the Ladies room, dove into the nearest stall and slammed the door...a moment before she threw up.  Her 'breakfast' of coffee burned her throat a second time as she took a few heaving breaths.

            She crouched over the white porcelain seat and braced herself against the metal walls.  She struggled to draw air down her throat.  Her passing nausea was now joined by her shuddering sobs, and tears burned in her eyes.

            Fifty-two people, she thought, managing one ragged breath, Fifty-two people...and they haven't finished counting yet.

            Another voice spoke to her, the calming voice of her father, It wasn't you, Charlie.  You didn't kill all those people...you're not responsible for all those deaths...

            Those boys, Rainbird's boys, they were the ones who did most of the killing.  That was true; she knew she was not responsible for killing all those people.

            "No..." she mumbled to herself, "No...not all.  But some.  Still some..."

            Charlie reached one shaking hand forward and flushed the toilet.  Still bracing herself on the walls, she eased to her feet.  She lifted her pack to one shoulder and opened the stall door.

            She wandered over to the line of sinks, and turned on the cold water faucet.  She cupped her hands and took a few sips to wash the coffee taste out of her mouth.  Then, she splashed some of the water to her face, and stared at her reflection in the mirror.

            You did a bad thing, Charlie, another voice chided her bitterly, You did a very...bad...thing...

            This voice was her own, the voice of her younger self.  An angry conscience she had created when she had been a child.  When she had promised never to use her powers to hurt anyone...ever...

            Her hands were still under the cold stream of water, and her skin was beginning to sting.

            It's a bad thing, Charlie, the voice said, and fresh tears flowed over her cheeks, It's the worst thing...Rainbird got you to kill!  You did a very bad thing...

            "I know..." Charlie muttered, wiping her eyes, "I know...I'm sorry..."

            She ripped a paper towel rudely from the dispenser to her right and dried her face.  She crumpled it up and tossed it away.

            Suddenly, Charlie noticed a small girl standing near the bathroom's entrance.  Charlie blinked a few times, consciously wondering if the child was real.

            The little girl was wearing a pretty spring dress, covered in lace and buttons, which hung almost to her ankles.  Her eyes were wide, chestnut brown, and her dark hair was tied back with a long bow.  She stared at Charlie with curiosity and smiled. 

            "Hi," the little girl said sheepishly and Charlie could not help but smile back.

            "Hi," she replied and the girl tilted her head.

            "Why are you crying?" she asked.

            Charlie's mouthed opened slightly, wanting to reply but unsure of what to say.  Luckily, the little girl chimed in again quickly.

            "Are you sad?" she asked, "Why are you sad?"

            "I...um..." Charlie began, coughing once against her tears before continuing, "I...just lost a friend of mine..."

            "Where did you lose him?" the little girl asked, her wide brown eyes almost hypnotizing.

            "A long way from here," Charlie answered.

            "Do you miss him?" the little girl continued in her innocent interrogation.

            "Yeah..." Charlie said, "Yeah, I do.  He was...the first friend I had in...in a long time..."

            "Maybe you'll find him again," the little girl said brightly with a wide grin.

            Charlie shook her head, "No, I don't think so."

            "Well..." the little girl said, her brow furrowing as she pondered Charlie's dilemma, "Maybe...you'll meet some new friends..."

            The child's eyes were so hopeful, Charlie once again had to smile.

            "Yeah...maybe I will," she replied and the little girl looked satisfied by this conclusion.

            Just then, a woman burst into the bathroom, looking around with urgency until she spotted the child.

            "Oh, Sabine, there you are!" the woman said with relief, "I can't take my eyes off you for a minute!"

            The little girl spun around and smiled, "I was just talking to Charlie, mommy!"

            The older woman laughed and gave Charlie and apologetic glance.

            "Got the twenty questions, did you?" she asked with amusement, and then glanced down at her daughter, "Well, I'm sure Charlie is very busy and has a lot to do on her trip too."

            "It's okay," Charlie said, "She wasn't bothering me."

            The mother chuckled, "Try another ten hours of that and you might think differently.  Say goodbye now, Sabine."

            The little girl glanced up and waved.

            "Bye, Charlie," she said, "I hope you find your friends..."

            "Thanks," she replied, "Bye..."

            As the little girl turned to walk away, her mother quickly covered her with a long coat.  Charlie frowned as she watched them go.  Something swished under the back of the little girl's dress, and for a moment, Charlie could have sworn it looked like a tail.

            The door clicked shut and Charlie picked up her duffel bag, and glanced at herself in the mirror again.

            You've been on the road too long, kid, she thought, and none of the other inner voices argued, You're starting to see things...

            She began to head toward the door, and then paused.

            How did she know my name?

            The thought flashed through Charlie's mind, and she frowned.  Thinking back on the conversation, she did not remember telling the child her name.  But, she must have...

            Shaking her head, she mumbled, "Yeah...definitely on the road for too long..."

            An hour or so later, Charlie was aboard a bus again, a bag of pastries sitting in her lap.

            Chicago...and then Toronto...and then...north...

***

Review response:

To darkworldspirit:  Thanks for the review!  I liked Rekindled too.  Offers lots of crossover possibilities.  :-)  Hope you enjoy the rest of the story!