I walk into the town's closest bar roughly a half hour later. At least I think it's been half an hour. Glancing at the clock I finally spot hanging on one dingy wall, I nod slightly. Yep. It's now 2:30 a.m.

I sit at the empty bar and slump slightly. I'm just so tired. If I had thought I was tired before, now I felt like I was a hair's breadth from passing out completely.

"Hey," says the bartender, wiping a glass with a clean rag. "Excuse me kid, but I'm closing for the night."

I look up, disappointment making me light-headed. "Really? Damn," I mutter. I give the bartender a small smile. Throughout my travels, I've noticed people are a lot more inclined to be helpful if one smiles at them. "I was wondering why you were open so late, but I guess you aren't."

He shrugs. "This is a pretty small town, so I know most of my regulars well. I stay open as long as people come in." He puts down the clean glass and picks up another, eyeing it critically before starting to wipe it. "But I don't think I'll be getting any more tonight, so I'm closing now."

I get off my stool wearily. "I see." Looking at him uncertainly, I make my fingers quite their fidgeting. Stupid nervous habit. "Do you suppose- I mean, do you think you might let me spend the night here, if I help you clean up and stuff? Whatever you need?"

He looks me up and down, but somehow, I don't feel the way I felt when the man in the subway station did the same thing. "You in trouble kid?"

I shake my head. "Nah. Just kind of stuck for the moment. I promise you, I have somewhere I'm going. It's just a little too early to go there." I shift my weight slightly. "I'll be gone in the morning, I promise. It's just kinda chilly to sleep out again."

The bartender nods slowly. "I own the place, so it's my decision." He puts the glass he's been wiping down, along with the rag, and leans on the counter of the bar. "As long as you're not in any sort of trouble, I'll say ok. Sweep up, wipe the counter and the tabletops, wash a few glasses and we'll call it even." He nodded in the direction of a rather saggy couch. "You can rest on that. It's not the best of accommodations, but you're only staying here the one night, so I doubt it'll break your back."

The man is kind, but I read the warning in his words. He's offering me a place to stay, but I'm firmly a temporary guest. I smile in agreement and take my bag off, laying it on my stool. "Ok. Just tell me where to find the broom and I'll have this place clean in a jiffy."

He shows me where the cleaning supplies are kept, and get to work. I finish quickly, realizing that the bartender knew there wasn't that much to be done and that he had just wanted to make me feel less like a charity case.

"Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight," I say again as he locks of the register and make sure the windows are secured.

"No problem. I was young once too, and I know what it's like to be on the road and alone." He hands me a blanket, and laughs at my surprised look. "You're not the first person to spend the night on my couch. Regulars too drunk to drive home and too ashamed to call a ride have often slept it off here."

I thank him, feeling like a broken record but really meaning it. "My name's Wish," I say suddenly. My cheeks redden, and I feel like an idiot. I don't know where that came from, or why I said it. My real name isn't Wish at all, it's Abigail. A nice, normal, human name. But I haven't been Abigail for a while now.

"Wish? That's a strange name," he says, putting his coat on.

I nod. "Yes, but it's mine." I don't know why I decided to call myself Wish, but now that I have, I can feel the rightness of it.

"My name's Hank." He smiles and wraps his scarf around his throat. "Have a good night Wish. I'll be by at around 1:00."

"Ok. Thanks." I sit on the couch. "Good night," I call out as he leaves, and I hear him say the same as the door closes and he locks it.

Finally alone, I make myself as comfortable as I can on the couch. I took a shower two days ago in the last motel I'd stayed at, and I'm starting to yearn for a shower again. I don't smell too badly yet (thank god for small miracles) but I feel very gross and dirty. Traveling can do that to a person.

"If all goes well, by tomorrow night I'll at least have had a shower." I close my eyes and wonder what it'll be like. The place I'm heading… it's a school for mutants. My mother- I can remember her face if I concentrate, was contacted by the head of the school in the early days of my mutation. She calmly ignored him though, and said there was nothing wrong with me.

I secretly kept the address however, thinking it might come in handy someday. The more I think about my past, the more uneasy I feel. My memories of childhood and growing up are solid, but the closer I get to the my memory blank, the more the things I can recall seem to waver, like a mirage in the heat. I burn to know what happened two weeks ago, what happened to my mother and why I've been traveling to New York so single-mindedly. But for the moment, what I want most of all is to rest, and be safe. I feel as if my life has only begun two weeks ago, which is as far back as I can account as real, and I haven't had a moment's peace since. Maybe someday soon, I'll be able to find out what exactly happened. For now, I have enough on my plate. I close my eyes and sleep.