Chapter Six

John's eyes shot open and he took in a shuddering breath. It was early morning and light murmured through the dusty window of the attic. He must have fallen asleep at his desk last night… Sarah Jane wouldn't like that. She said that he had a bedroom for a reason. Apparently staying up until two in the morning was horrible for his health. John figured his health was already horrible enough so he might as well put his mind to good use before he lost it. His heart was pounding and cold sweat had dried on his brow while he slept. Probably a nightmare, he reasoned. Yawning, John stood up and glanced about the room. His neck hurt from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in, his cheek resting heavily on top of a mess of gears and cogs. A massive conglomeration of half-finished inventions and little metallic toys littered the room, piled in the corners and the nicest ones parading on shelves. He was proud of his little room in the attic, even if the only person beside himself to ever see it was Sara Jane.

Bending down, he tried to lift up the hatch that would open the trapdoor. Then he could climb down and eat some breakfast before coming back up and finishing some school. He ran his fingers along the crevice of the wood, looking for the hatch, but suddenly he realized that it was gone.

There was no trapdoor out of the little room! Fear quickened his heart and he stood up suddenly. The window. He could climb out the window. Spinning around, John raced for the window. But it was gone. All that was left was a white square on the wall. He cried out, rushing forward and banging his fists against the wood. Dust rose but otherwise nothing happened. He was trapped.

Suddenly the lights in the room dimmed and blinked on again with a blue-grey glow. The temperature lowered so that his breath became smoky in the air. Gulping, John shivered and screwed his eyes shut. Don't look. He would not look. Someone breathed on the back of his neck and it prickled. "I will not turn around," he shouted, determined. However, the room revolved around him like a merry-go-round and John stumbled into his desk. His lamp fell off the table despite his clumsy attempts to stop it and the room was plunged into darkness once more.

It was worse in the dark. He could feel them circling around him getting closer and closer. Scrambling in terror, John felt a match against his hand. Quickly he swiped the match across the wooden floor and the sight that illuminated before him was far too bright for one match to reveal. There were twelve of them. The shadows circled him, murmuring restlessly, but they did not hurt him

Then one bent down and looked John in the eye. Slowly the darkness faded from his face and John found himself staring into deep eyes of such an undecided blue and green that it seemed that the colors were fighting for dominance over each other. He had a childish smile, a large chin and brown hair that fell carelessly into his eyes. "It's my turn now," he pouted. "I haven't had a turn in ages!"

Shivering uncontrollably, John tried to force himself to look away from the young man. But he couldn't. The boy seemed to be the same age as John and he looked kind enough. His fear would have abated, but at that moment, darker, denser shadows joined the twelve and John knew that these ones were not nice. His heart raced and he opened his mouth to shout, but the boy shoved his hand over John's mouth. "Don't speak. They'll hear you." The original shadows formed a wall around John as if to protect him and the kind looking shadow faded away into the others.

"Wait!" John cried. His voice rippled the darkness like water and the shadows protecting him melted away with cries of dismay. Then John's match singed his fingers and it was dark.

James jumped to his feet immediately upon awaking. Really awakening. Someone was screaming and it took him a moment to realize that it was he. He shut his mouth and blinked blearily eyes. He was in his pajamas but didn't remember putting them on. He must have been exhausted the night previous. In his new dorm the sun shined through the window brightly. The nightmare was slippery in his memory and as John tried to recall the face of the kind shadow, the one that spoke to him, the dream buried itself in the depths of his mind, irretrievable.

"Dangit," he muttered. He'd had that same dream since he was a small child, but none of the shadows ever spoke to him. They always just stood there, neither good nor bad. Purely protective. He figured that if he were still seeing his therapist, she would have liked to hear about the change in the dream.

But he wasn't seeing a therapist anymore. He was in school. A very odd school, he remembered. Then the events of the previous day came rushing in and he flinched. A very odd school indeed…

Suddenly a blaring, uninteresting sound echoed down the dormitory halls, startling John. That was probably a call for breakfast. Acting quickly, John changed into a t-shirt, jeans and debated about the trench coat. He seriously needed his clothes to arrive in the mail so he'd have more options... Glancing out the window, John watched the trees whip in the wind and decided he had no choice but to wear the darn thing. Shrugging it on, he tied the laces of his converse, snatched his backpack up and opened the door.

Instantly John was swept away by the flood of colors swimming through the hall. His eyes darted from color to color, overwhelmed by the pure quantity of it. He shoved the door shut and screwed his eyes closed. No. He couldn't go out there. There were too many people, too many colors to look at. He couldn't! He couldn't do thi-

"Hey, John. You alright?" It was Rory, the boy who'd been kind to him yesterday. He cracked open Johns door and looked at him with gentle concern.

John coughed, shaking his head. "Yeah," he croaked, "Yeah I'm fine. Breakfast, right?"

Rory nodded, his blue eyes devouring John's room. "Wow!" He breathed, "Your room is absolutely epic." He grinned. "Like, awesome. The blue fits you. I'm more of a red and brown sort of guy, I think." An idea lit his eyes, "Hey, you should check my room out sometime."

Nodding, John exited his room cautiously. "That'd be great," he said distractedly. The crowd of boys shoved against them, weaving around each other. Everyone wanted to get to breakfast on time.

John couldn't concentrate. His mind buzzed and every touch sent shivers up his spine. The colors were a blending together and he couldn't see past them. Stopping in his tracks, John covered his eyes with his hands, aware that he looked completely wacko, and preceded to breath in as normal a manner as possible.

"John? JOHN!"

Flinching, John dropped his hands and focused intently on Rory. No one else seemed to notice his strange behavior, mostly because several of them were acting strange themselves. The other colors faded in the background and John let out a little sigh of relief. If he focused on one person, he could usually block out the rest. "Yeah? Rory, I'm fine."

"I didn't even ask you yet!"

"You were going to." John replied with a smirk. He could do this. He could survive. It just took concentration. He could see the question tumbling in a concern and confused color that seeped from Rory's fingertips.

Rory blinked. "Riiight… As I was saying, you're going to have math with Adric first, if I remember right, good luck with that."

"He sounds… interesting."

Rory snorted, "You could say that." They exited the cramped hallway and made their way across the red carpet toward the dining room. The colors were less intense now and John didn't have to focus on Rory as intently as before. "He can be annoying, " Rory shrugged. "He's crazy smart though. If you ask the kid what the five hundred and first digit of Pi is, he'll tell you with the same amount of ease as he does reporting the weather outside."

"That's awesome."

"Yeah, well kinda we all are." Rory paused, smirking. "Except for this one kid, she's got the ability to spontaneously turn into pudding. Not sure what that's good for…"

"Food?"

Rory chuckled, shaking his head, "Naw. It's cranberry flavored."

John stepped into the classroom slowly, clinging mentally to the safety of the empty hallway. Immediately every student swiveled around to stare at him.

Great. Just what I need.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, John gave them a small, quick wave. The room was not unusual, just a math class. However, everything was perfectly centered. Absolutely and exactly. Every pencil on the teacher's desk was lined up, and every picture was perfectly straight. In the gaze he swept around the room, John instinctively gathered information about the teacher. He was OCD. Shaking his head, John turned to the boy himself.

Adric was everything John had expected and yet totally surprising. He wasn't particularly attractive with his dark hair cut in bowl-like style, his nose turned up, and an odd yellow uniform that didn't fit him quite right. Pale skin that hardly saw the sun and calculating eyes met John's gaze.

He was young. No older than fifteen, but one look into his eyes, and John knew that this boy had seen more and knew more than most people. It didn't stop John from immediately taking a dislike to the haughty way he held himself. Adric's eyes said knew he was smarter than everyone in the room and asked why did he have to teach such idiots?

"New?' he spoke with a sigh. "Vastra needs to stop picking rubbish off the street. It's annoying. This school is over-populated as it is." Shaking his head, he pointed at a desk in the front row to the far left and turned back to a blackboard written out with complex math problems. Most of the kids were giving John sympathetic looks now. "Sit there and try to keep up. " Pausing, he swiveled back around and saw that John still stood by the door. "Well come on."

Rolling his eyes, John gave the perfectionist the biggest grin he could manage and shrugged his backpack off so that it hung in his hands. He glanced around the room and sat down in a desk in the back row to the far right. Shifting the desk just slightly out of its place, John enjoyed the scowl that appeared on Adric's face.

Definitely OCD. If this kid was really as cracked up as he seemed, John knew he would notice that he had chosen the farthest mathematically possible seat from the one he'd been instructed to sit in.

What could he say? John figured he had enough problems controlling his own mind. Why add another authority to the mix?

A student with green skin shifted nervously and caught John's eye as if to warn him. However, John ignored the boy who he privately dubbed cactus kid.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Adric tapped his foot with impatience "I suppose since you've already interrupted class you might as well tell us your name."

"John. John Smith."

"Fascinating," Adric answered, deadpan. "Nice to meet you, John. Can I ask you a question?"

"Ask all you like," came John's wiry reply.

"Are you deaf?"

Chuckling, John picked up his backpack and began rummaging through it. He knew he wasn't acting like himself. There was a buzzing in his head, impatience he couldn't understand. Usually he was never so bold. He also was aware of what was causing his change in personality, but kept the thought in the back of his mind. If he didn't think about it, he could usually bring himself back.

But not thinking about something is like trying not to think about an elephant.

"Is something funny?" Adric said his lips puckered. He seemed to dislike John just as much as John was beginning to dislike him. Adric had red dust circling his head: anger. Maybe irritation.

'Well," John started, pretending to contemplate the question, "Yes. If I was deaf I wouldn't be able to answer your question."

"Are you blind then?"

"Is there a particular reason you're ask-?"

"Answer the question!"

"No. I'm not blind."

Adric shook his head, like he was trying to indulge a small child. "Then why are you sitting at that desk and not that one?" He pointed at the desk he'd instructed John to sit in.

"You seem like the spitting type," John answered immediately, infuriatingly. "If I wanted a shower I'd go to a bathroom, not a math class."

The class snickered and Adric silenced them with a glare. John knew he'd regret that comment later, but the look that Adric gave him was absolutely worth any punishment. His ears got red, his eyes flashed, and he chewed his lip furiously. The red dust became an angry crimson storm cloud and for a moment the two boys stared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Usually John would have been the one to do so, but not this time. He could feel the stirrings of heat in his chest and he quickly suppressed it. He wasn't going to give in to the numbers. Not this time. He had to concentrate not only on winning this 'fight' with Adric, but also on keeping control of his own head. This time he'd win. Both fights. The numbers weren't real. He was. Actually, he told himself, I'm not even worried about it. I am in control. He wasn't, but admitting that would just hasten the probability of a change. Sometimes he could stop it if he caught himself early enough. Adric's eyes flicked away and he stomped to the blackboard. John smirked. Not worried. Not worried.

"Now." Adric pressed his chalk on to the blackboard and it sprung to life. Apparently it was a touch-screen, not a blackboard. "I'm sending you your math pages. Do them to the best of your ability, which is pathetic anyway, and send it back in twenty minutes." He swiped across the board toward the class and the students' desks beeped positively. John took down his backpack so that he could see the touch-screen imbedded in the desk.

Impressive… The assignment blinked in front of him and in the background, his mind began translating the math theorems into something he could understand and the heat in his chest faded. He smiled.

"Sorry, there's is no time to catch you up, John." Adric didn't sound sorry at all. "The timer starts… now."

"So I heard you really dished it out to Adric." Rory spoke through his food. He bit into the last bit of his sub as they walked away from lunch.

"Yeah," John answered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. News sure did travel fast… "I kind of got carried away."
"Don't be sorry," Rory answered, licking his fingers. "The guy deserves it. You should see all the crap he puts people through."

"I can imagine…" Honestly, John was just glad he'd managed to suppress the more rebellious part of him before he did something truly stupid. He figured it was 8.5, 11, or maybe 6 attempting to get through. All of them seemed to have issues with authority. Not taking his usual medication was taking its toll. He'd forgotten to do so the night before, and he hadn't had so many issues with his other-selves in years.

"So," Rory continued, holding open the door. They exited the building and braved the harsh wind. "How did physical training go?"

John cringed.

"What is that, girl? I said pushups not fish-flopping!"

"This is a push up!"

"That is hopeless! Run laps, girl!"

John blinked away the memory. "It was… interesting."

"So basically you sucked."

"You know," John replied with a laugh, "That sums it up nicely."

Rory's face cracked into a smile and he scratched the back of his neck. "My first class was like that too."

"But I thought you have awesome Roman fighting skills."

"Well," Rory spoke, "I do. But not all the time. Mostly I'm just normal."

John digested that information. It had to be strange being able to do something one day and then not knowing how you did it the next… "Does it get easier?" he asked.

"What? Being a roman or gym class?"

"…Gym class."

"Oh," Rory shook his head, "Not really. Unless you have abilities that are physically related. But if it's just a brain thing or whatever, then no. It basically sucks."

"Fantastic." John shook his head and shivered in the cold. He nipped the word as it left his lips. 9 liked that word. He used it constantly when he whispered in John's mind. Crap. He really needed to get back to his room so he could take his medication. He'd forgotten the night before and hadn't heard so much from his other selves in years.

They only had a bit farther to walk before they reached the main building, where John was going to meet Vastra for 'Specialized Training'.

"So what are you doing for your specialized course?" Rory asked as they hurried up the steps.

The wind whipped around them and tried to steal John's coat. "I don't know," John answered, "Probably spend an awkward hour with Vastra."

Shivering, they tumbled into the building. Warmth fanned their faces and John relaxed, exhaling breathily.

"It won't be like that forever. It's just until you can figure out what your abilities are," Rory spoke, "Tell me about it when you're finished, okay?" He grinned and John nodded.

Thumbs up. "Sure thing, Rory."

Waving, Rory turned and the new friends split paths. Rory had specialized training with a different teacher. John knew that whatever came to pass in the hour, he wasn't going to tell Rory about all of it. Not yet.

He walked through the halls alone, eyes on the floor. 9 was laughing at his 'misfortune' and John pointedly ignored him. His shoes scrapped the floor dully and he remembered Sarah Jane telling him how annoying the habit was.

"It makes you look reluctant, John. If you want to look impressive pick up your feet."

Sarah Jane was never reluctant. She threw herself into everything with the same amount of zeal and determination. Sometimes he wished he had her enthusiasm…

John walked up to the door and stared at it wordlessly. Whatever Vastra had to say, he was resolved not to listen. He was sick and unless she could help him, he didn't want to talk. If what she had said yesterday was telling of her thoughts, she believed that his insanity was a gift. How ridiculous was that? Even if it was, John didn't want to learn how to use it. He wanted it out.

The second time he entered Vastra's office was no easier than the first time. He was still nervous as heck and his other selves were murmuring in voices he couldn't quite hear. My medication. Should have taken my medication… Cracking open the door, he shimmied in and stood awkwardly in front of it. The lizard wasn't sitting at her desk like she was this time. She was dressed in a black, skin-tight suit and wrote on a piece of paper as she sat cross-legged on the floor. An off-white calm exhaled from her nose.

John wondered if he could just sneak away without her noticing.

"Come in, John."

Too late.

"H-hi."

"Hi yourself," she answered while attempting to smile pleasantly but her sharp teeth ruined the pleasant affect of her smile. She patted the ground next to her. "Please, sit."

Slowly, John edged forward. He sat down at a comfortable distance away from the principle. Crossing his long legs, he counted his fingers absently as he waited for her to speak. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine-

"John?"

His stomach was hurting and his chest hot. If he didn't take his medication soon…

"Why am I here?" he asked even though he already knew the answer. 9 was muttering restlessly, distracting him.

"Please be more precise, John." Vastra murmured. A teapot sat next to her on a china plate and she poured him a steaming cup. "Here, as in, this room? This school? This planet?"

Irritation sparked in his chest. He picked up the cup of tea. It was mint. He set it down again quickly when he realized his hand was shaking.

Did she notice? John thought.

I don't think so, 9 replied. He had a heavy northern accent. John shushed him.

"I explained why you're at this school." Vastra took a slow sip of her own tea. "Even though you don't believe my explanation. I'm not sure why you're on this planet…"

"I meant in this room," he muttered, deadpan. The irritation was slowly fanning into anger. She was playing with him. Teasing him. It was infuriating.

Vastra smiled. "Thank you. You are here so that you can learn to used whatever is going on in your head for your benefit."

John gave her an emotionless look. Jeeze. Why was he even bothering? Did she realize how ridiculous that sounded? "How could they possibly benefit me?" he croaked, "I can hardly see sometimes because of all the colors that no one else sees and that's not even the worst of it! I have to constantly think about keeping my sanity so that I don't go bananas and forget what I've been doing for the last few hours!"

Vastra was silent for a moment, digesting his words. "That may be how you feel now, John. But if you would let me help you, you could unlock your full potential."

John just stared at her, wordless. This was a waste of time. He didn't want to unlock his blooming potential. He wanted to stop hearing voices in his head.

"Look," he said pointedly. "Can you fix me?" The anger in his chest shifted into a physical heat, something that should worry him, but John was too irritated to notice. Need my medication…

Vastra seemed to contemplate her answer for a moment. "No." She smiled. "I cannot."

His eyes rolling to the ceiling, John huffed. "Fantastic! Then what am I doing here!"

"You are here to unlock-"

"I don't want to unlock my stupid potential!" he cried, his voice taking on a distinctive Northern tinge. Violently he coughed. Then he snapped his mouth shut. He froze. Mentally and physically. Gone to far. He needed to backtrack. Before it was too late. He needed to get back to his room.

Watching him, Vastra was curious and contemplative. "John-"

"Please don't say anything." He snapped his eyes shut. Need my medication. His chest was burning hot but after a moment of concentration it faded. 9 gave him a glare before retreating.

"John?" Vastra's voice was quiet, gentle. "John, you don't need to be afraid. Nothing you share with me will ever go past these walls unless you want them too. Alright?"

Opening his eyes, John stared at her in complete silence for several seconds. His mind hardened in spite and he scowled. Why would she do that? Why would she provoke him? "You did that on purpose," he growled.

Guilt dribbled on the floor underneath Vastra and she gulped. "Using your ability will make it easier. Less painful."

John snorted and stood quickly. No. He wasn't going to do this. "They're not an ability, Principle Vastra. They are a curse that you won't rid me of." He turned away and walked toward the door.

"John, don't lea-!"

"And if you're interested," he spat, furious now. How dare she manipulate him! "That was 9 who just spoke."

AN: Please review! I Love to hear from you! Sorry about the wait!