I'm really sorry this took so long, guys. hangs her head in shame The only excuse I can give is that it took me forever to figure out how to start this chapter. At least I've finally addressed the cliffie, right? ducks
Many thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review chater six, I appreciate it a whole lot. Also, as always, a huge thank you to my awesome beta, Diena.
Saturday, May 3, 2:38 A.M.
A burning apartment building in San Francisco
Contrary to cut-scenes in poorly directed television shows, waiting to die is neither fast nor easy. It's actually amazingly slow, leaving the person involved more than enough time to consider and reconsider all the mistakes they made that landed them in the situation that would kill them.
He had always heard lame stories about how he was supposed to see his life flash before his eyes, but he wasn't getting that at all. Maybe it was just because his life had been incredibly boring, so there was very little of importance to think about.
Replaying the evening in his mind, though, the only thing that kept coming back to him was that if only he had kept out of the burning building, then he wouldn't have been slowly choking to death. But that conclusion didn't really help him, because no matter how he looked at it, he couldn't believe that not trying to save the little girl was an acceptable idea.
Anne, he had decided her name was. He wasn't sure why, it just seemed right. And regardless of the fact that he hadn't done her much good, he was convinced that he had done the right thing. That was what was important.
Wasn't it?
'Of course not', the voice labeled 'father' nagged from somewhere in the back of his mind. 'The important thing is that you've given up. As usual.'
Scowling, he tried to think of something more pleasant, but nothing came. Just the irritating voice, reminding him of what a failure he was. His one opportunity to still be a semi-contributing member of society, even though he was a mutant, and he had blown it.
'Good job, Lucas.'
He would have told the voice to shut up, but that seemed a little… not quite sane. Of course, he didn't think that it would have listened anyway, so it was kind of a moot point.
All in all, it was just the way he had always wanted to die, he told himself sarcastically. Slowly and painfully, with no one to mourn him, and not having bathed properly in a week.
Everyone that cared had already mourned for him, after all.
Not that he was truly Lucas Wolenczak anymore. No, he was just a mutant freak who looked remarkably like a dead man. Lucas Wolenczak's family wouldn't have even tried to accept him, and although Lucas' friends were far more forgiving of his faults, he doubted that they would have particularly appreciated it either.
It was ironic, really. He didn't have anything left to lose but his life, and even that seemed to be only a matter of time.
He was so caught up in his self-pitying thoughts that he almost didn't hear little Anne sniffling quietly. Looking down at her, he found huge watery blue eyes staring back at him. She opened her mouth to say something, but the moment she breathed in, all she could do was cough.
That, of course, was what triggered it.
A child was dying, and he was completely impotent to do anything about it.
Shockingly, instead of bringing about a whole new wave of self-loathing, it brought on something entirely different.
It took him only a second to realize that he had started to sink into the wall behind him, and lean forward. Annoyed with himself for once again losing control of his powers, it took him a few moments longer to realize that he was still holding the girl.
Anne, he mentally corrected.
'Wait… go back to that other part…' a little voice in his head told him.
He was still holding the girl.
Slowly standing up, he looked down at little Anne, who had stopped coughing, and was just staring up at him with awe etched on her face. He smiled down at her, hoping it would reassure her that everything was all right. When she leaned into him and smiled back, he gathered what courage he had remaining, and headed toward the fire escape.
Walking her directly through the door and into the flames in the apartment next to her own, he was worried that she would react badly. It only took a few seconds for him to realize that he was far more frightened than she was.
Snuggled up in his arms, she had closed her eyes. She looked so peaceful, it was as though she were simply being carried to bed by her father, as opposed to being carried through a burning building by a stranger.
Unsure of how long his miracle would last, Lucas hurried through the apartment and down the fire escape. When they reached the ground, he knelt down and whispered in her ear. "Anne?"
Too late, it occurred to him that Anne probably wasn't her real name. Good one, Lucas…
Her eyes flickered open nonetheless, and she looked at him curiously and whispered in a hoarse voice, "Are we going to heaven now?"
Blinking repeatedly, he just stared at her for a moment. How could he answer a question like that?
Oh yeah… "No, sweetie, you're going to be okay."
…'Sweetie?' Where the hell had that come from? He really had lost his marbles.
Seeming almost disappointed, she nodded. "Oh, okay."
Putting her down on the ground, he frowned when he realized that she was barefoot, and the alley was positively disgusting. Not much he could do about that, though, and he supposed that the fact she was alive was a little more important than her having dirty feet. Not to mention the fact that he'd been sleeping in that same alley less than an hour before.
"Your father is right over there." He whispered to her, pointing around the corner toward where her father had been. "You had better go, so he won't worry about you anymore."
Nodding solemnly, she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and hug him tightly before turning to run off. Even in his state of general misery, it was hard to not smile at that.
Leaning back against the wall, he sighed heavily. He had done a good thing, and he had lived through it. He probably wasn't going to get any more sleep that night, but in comparison to having done something worthwhile, that seemed irrelevant.
Moving to a different nearby alley, he assumed that if anyone even bothered to look for him, they wouldn't look far. He curled up next to a dumpster in the new alley, amazed at the change in his state of mind.
For the first time in a week, Lucas felt somehow…. Human.
As odd a notion as it was, it was a pleasant surprise to find that the ordeal with the fire had exhausted him. For the first time in many days, Lucas found sleep easily, and stayed asleep for quite a while.
Early evening found him many hours later, still resting contentedly in his new alley. When he awoke to the sound of movement nearby, he was still groggy enough to assume that it was Dave. It didn't even occur to him that Dave wouldn't know where to find him anymore.
Poking his head around the corner of the dumpster he was lying next to, he was unpleasantly surprised to see a complete stranger walking in his direction. The man was quite obviously not one of the local homeless; his clothes were far too clean and well kept for that. At least he wasn't a policeman looking to arrest Lucas for vagrancy, but that still didn't mean that Lucas wanted to be seen.
Pulling back a little too quickly, Lucas frowned when he heard all the noise his movements had made. Jumping to his feet, he looked around frantically. There were only two ways out of the alley, and both involved him being seen by the strange man.
Unless, that was, he used his powers to take him through the nearest wall.
Taking another quick look around and finding no new options, he turned toward the wall behind him. Trying not to flinch, he stepped inside.
A cool breeze moved through the eerily silent alley, as the strange man stared at the wall he had just watched the boy walk through.
That was it.
He had to get out of the city; it was just too dangerous for a freak like him.
He quickly found Dave, having formed an unnaturally strong attachment to the man in the few days he had known him, to tell his only friend that he was leaving. As always, Dave just listened to him talk, and nodded.
"If that's what you think you've gotta do, kid, I understand." Frowning suddenly, he started looking through his pockets. After a moment, he pulled out a wad of crumpled bills. Taking only a cursory glance at them, he handed them to Lucas.
His mouth falling open at the gesture, he just shook his head.
Before he could say a word, Dave just laughed. "S'ok, kid. I'll be fine. You're gonna need to eat out there, though." Patting him on the shoulder and smiling, he continued, "I'd say to write or call, but well… you know. If you're ever in the city again, though, come see me."
With another grin, Dave was gone, leaving Lucas with what turned out to be nearly fifty dollars.
Having not the vaguest clue where he was going, Lucas started walking. He hoped it was at least vaguely in the direction of a highway out of the city, and for once fate didn't seem to be against him.
Given all of the horror stories he had heard over the years about hitchhiking, he was rather worried about what kind of psychopath might pick him up, but it was a chance he was willing to take. It wasn't any safer to sleep on the street, anyway. But of course, once again, he was doing something that his family and friends would have been either horrified or humiliated by.
After more than three hours of walking, though, he was beginning to wonder whether anyone was going to pick him up at all. It would be ironic, really. There he was, expecting all sorts of crazy people to try to pick him up and do disturbing things to him, and as it turned out, he wasn't even good enough for the lunatics.
He shouldn't have been surprised, really. He hadn't changed clothes or bathed in a week, and he must have looked it. People probably thought that he was the psychopath, waiting to be picked up, so that he could kill them and steal their cars.
After a few more hours, he decided that it was probably nearing midnight, and he wasn't anywhere near the edge of the city. It would probably take days to walk that far, actually.
Ahh, how the universe just loved to shut him down, he mused to himself. There he was, finally doing something that could be considered constructive, but he needed help that it appeared he wasn't going to get.
On the other hand, if he was the driver, he was pretty sure that he wouldn't pick himself up…
Just seconds before he convinced himself to give up for the night, he felt a rush of wind on his face as a semi pulled over right in front of him.
Astounded for a moment, he walked up around the side of the truck, working hard to convince himself that it had pulled over for some reason other than to pick him up. As he reached the spot next to the door, though, it popped open.
"Hey, you looking for a ride?" A fatherly looking man in his fifties was sitting there, looking down at him.
Nodding dumbly, Lucas found that he couldn't even form the words to respond.
"Well, I'm only going as far as Nebraska, but you're welcome to come with if you want, Kiddo."
He couldn't help but smile at the man's use of the captain's old nickname for him, and it struck him as a good omen.
"Nebraska would be perfect, actually. I mean, if you don't mind…"
Grinning amusedly, the man held out his hand to help Lucas into the massive truck. "Wouldn't have offered if I hadn't meant it. Name's Roy."
Knowing full well that he couldn't introduce himself as Lucas Wolenczak, he reached into his mind for any possible name that he could give the man. "Alex." Pausing a moment, he quelled the urge to hug the man, and then went on. "And thanks a lot for the ride."
"Not a problem, Alex. I don't know why you'd want to go to Nebraska, but I'm glad to have the company." Smiling, Roy turned on the radio, which was tuned in to a local country music station.
Smiling back, Lucas couldn't help but think of happier times, even as the singer on the radio wailed about how his wife had left him for another woman. He still couldn't understand how Commander Ford listened to that nonsense without laughing. Only in places like Nebraska was it normal for people to take country music seriously.
Yes, Nebraska was perfect.
No one in Nebraska thought about mutants or poor dead Lucas Wolenczak, boy genius.
At least, he hoped they didn't.
Saturday, May 3, 7:21 P.M.
A dark office, somewhere in San Francisco
Dialing the long number slowly and meticulously, he sat back in his desk chair and waited. To say that he wasn't nervous would have been an outright and obvious lie.
His future hinged on that single call, whether for the better of worse, and he had very little control over which it was. If he handled it badly, though…
Suddenly, there was a woman on the screen before him, and he had no more time to consider the possible outcome. His fear increased a thousand-fold, though, and his mind went temporarily blank as to what he should have been saying.
She was even more disturbing in person than he had heard or imagined. Perfectly straight white blonde hair framed her beautiful face, which appeared to permanently carry a vaguely annoyed look. She wore little makeup if any, but still looked as though she had just stepped from the pages of a women's fashion magazine. He could make out the top of an expensive suit, perfectly tailored and worth thousands of dollars, no doubt. It was her eyes that were the truly disturbing thing, though. They were empty of anything but impatience.
At least it would be impossible to forget who and what he was dealing with, he reassured himself. She could, and probably would, crush his mind if he gave her any reason to do so.
Repressing a shudder at that thought, he tried to smile at her. He knew that it looked strained at best, but there was little he could do about that. She was probably used to that sort of thing, anyway. Reminding himself that he was supposed to be talking, he took a deep breath and began.
"Ms. Frost? I have some information that I've been told you might find interesting."
Raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow, she waited.
Presuming that was his signal to continue, he cleared his throat nervously and began. "It's about a mutant, here in San Francisco…"
Five minutes later, he wiped the sweat from his brow and slumped over in his chair.
Fifty thousand dollars.
He certainly wouldn't have made that much with his information any other way.
It was even already in his bank account; she had transferred it as he'd watched. She'd given him a vague threat about what would happen if his information was wrong, but he'd assured her that there was no worry of that. He wasn't stupid, after all. There was no way he would have called her if he'd had any doubt. The deal was completely done, though. No further contact with that horrifying woman would be required of him, thank goodness.
Calming himself and making certain that he was presentable, he dialed the other number on his list. It was ironic, really. The lying he had to do next was going to be far easier than telling the truth had been.
When the man on the other end answered, he did his best to smile sympathetically. He had done so for so many others over the years, that it wasn't particularly difficult. "Captain Bridger." Pausing a moment and dipping his head, he leaned toward the screen on his desk. "I'm afraid that I haven't been able to come up with anything yet. Of course, on the timetable that you gave me, that isn't really shocking."
Sighing deeply, the captain nodded. "I suppose that's not unexpected, really. I just had the feeling that he was so close…" Breaking off for a second, the captain shook his head and continued, "You'll keep looking, though?" Still looking so hopeful that it made him feel guilty; the captain was obviously unprepared to give up without a fight.
Fifty thousand dollars, he reminded himself.
Fifty thousand dollars from a woman who would certainly kill him if he did anything to break their agreement, and telling the captain anything at all would do precisely that. It was far too late to change his mind.
"Of course, Captain. I'll keep looking for as long as it takes." As sympathetic as he was suddenly feeling for the captain, it was very hard to regret fifty thousand dollars.
Looking very old, if still somewhat hopeful, the captain nodded again. "Thank you." He leaned back then, and said in a slightly dejected voice, "You know where to contact me if you find anything."
"Of course, Captain."
Disconnecting the vid-link, he sat back in his chair once again. The guilty feeling stuck with him for a while, but in the end, it was hard to feel all that badly for some genius rich kid, or a UEO captain who probably made more in a year than he'd seen in the last ten.
And for the first time in nearly a year, he was going out to dinner.