Lauren still dreamt of it sometimes.
She remembered sitting in Math class, and then the world shaking, and the black gunk shooting up from every – fucking – where.
She remembered beginning to run, following Jack without thinking for a split second, and then, for some insane reason, her mind screamed for Andy.
Back then she had assumed it was some kind of sisterly instinct that had begun fading years ago.
She wanted to follow Jack – they needed to get to the hall, they needed to get somewhere safe away from the gunk where shit wasn't going to start falling on their heads – but she couldn't take another step.
She needed Andy.
She needed Andy.
She needed Andy.
Now she had to wonder.
Now, with the way their powers melded together, she looked back on that day in a different light.
She remembered fumbling for her phone, pulling up his number.
She remembered the relief at the sound of his voice.
"Are you seeing this?"
Of all the stupid questions. "Of course I'm seeing this! Where are you?"
"History. Mr Jones."
Okay, she remembered thinking, that's not so bad. That's not so far.
"Get to the bottom of the stairwell, I'm coming to you."
She had to get him.
She had to fetch him.
She had to have him.
"And then what?"
What had she planned, all that time ago? Back then she believed it was just an attack, only Atlanta, the police would come, it would go back to normal.
Normal.
Normal was gone these days.
"And then I'll think of something!"
She stuffed the phone in her pocket and started running, pushing against the crowd. A tiny bubble shield flashed above her by some natural instinct as part of the ceiling gave way.
She remembered hoping no one saw that.
If only she'd known how much bigger than that her troubles were.
She made it to the stairwell before him and stood in an empty space, searching the familiar faces of the strangers around her. "Andy!"
She needed him.
She needed him.
She needed him.
Finally he was there, his hood up, struggling against the crowd.
She grabbed him and pulled him aside, and he clung to her tighter than he had in years.
(and later she realised he had clutched her so tightly her arm bruised)
"Come on, we have to get out of here."
"To where?"
It wasn't an unreasonable question.
"Anywhere."
And when she woke Lauren would cry, because she dreamt of that, and she dreamt of Andy, and she dreamt of the golden light and killing people, and of James and Sheila and Dominique, and the X-Men wannabes, and what she never dreamt of was their parents' faces.