When Nobody Else Will Do
^Come on Xander you can do this.^ I stared at the computer in front of me and called on all of the skills Willow had drummed into my head. School is easy enough to blow off but when the Willomester wants you to learn something you learn it or you're subjected to the Resolve Face of Doom! I chuckled at the good memories as my fingers zipped over the keyboard. I was hacking into the City Hall records for New Orleans, or at least trying to. I felt a sweat drop roll down my back creating an icy trail. ^Damn this is harder without Wills.^ Before I'd always had the master hacker backing me up and I never realized just how great having her hovering over my shoulder was. I was almost in when a firewall popped up and toasted my ass. I slummed my head sliding down the computer screen with a soft squeal. I gazed straight into its neon brightness and moaned. ^I was so close.^
The line that I had never heard with my own ears drifted through my mind in a gruff voice that sounded of whiskey and cigarettes.
I winced. ^Oh, shut up.^ I told the memory fragment. Then peeled my forehead off the screen and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed my little melodrama. But Sunnydale Wilkinson's Memorial Library was just as crowded as when I'd first come in. The crowd consisting of Mrs. Shipley the librarian who I could see was still asleep on her desk surrounded by piles of newspapers that towered over her head. ^Now that also brings back fond memories.^ I saw the ghost of Jesse smiling and doing his victory dance in front of the computer to my right and a smiling Willow watching him from her chair and a younger Mrs. Shipley wake with a snort and yell for quiet. I shook my head to clear it and they faded away.
I focused back on the screen and cursed. "Se fecher pas mal." #damn it# I knew my accent was horrible but what did you expect going from second hand knowledge gleamed from a guy who used cartoons learn the language in the first place? The French words still slipped out with an ease that would have shocked my French teacher into the aneurysm he always grumbled I was trying to give him. He'd always proclaimed in the loudest voice possible, usually accompanied by more colorful words than the ones I'd just used, that the only way I'd learn anything was if someone cracked open my skull and physically inserted the knowledge. I smiled to myself. ^Close, but no cigar for le faux Parisian baudet.^ #the fake Parisian jackass# The closest he ever got to Paris was a cast.
Which was beside the point. I couldn't believe how hard it was to hack into the records I was after. ^The people in New Orleans must be more paranoid than Mulder!^ I'd run into some high end protections and this was the third time I'd been shut out. I was pretty sure I'd managed to keep whoever was guarding New Orleans from noticing my attempts, I'd been using subtly and not brute force because I didn't have the skill to escape a pro's attacks, but I wasn't sure I could keep that up. In fact I was sure I couldn't. I was way out of my minor leagues.
I needed major leagues. I needed Willow. I winced as I started shutting down the computer. That meant I had to tell her. ^Oh yeah, I can see that conversation. Wills I need your help to hack into the New Orleans City hall records. Why? Because, you see Anthony Harris isn't my real dad, aren't you happy for moi? Anyway my real papa lived there and I want to learn a bit more about the man before I show up on his doorstep claiming I'm his kid. How do I know this guy's really my dad? Well you see he's a mutant and so am I. How long have I known? Oh, not long just a couple days. Why didn't I tell you? Um, because.^ That's about when I'd run out of things to say, and it didn't even cover if she asked how long I'd know I was a mutant. Sheesh. My guilt trip would become a permanent vacation. I might as well ask Angel to put the bite on me. A wounded Willow out puppy-dog eyes the puppies.
I'm not good at expressing how I'm feeling. It probably stems from having parents who didn't give a rat's ass what I was feeling. The truth is I didn't know how to tell her. I'd scare up the nerve to do it but the words just wouldn't leave my mouth. I justified it by telling myself she had enough to handle what with the demons popping up every other night and the fighting for the world.
I wasn't truly afraid she'd reject me. She's my best bud and she'd stuck behind me when I was disgusting to everybody else already by just being a loser. Willow is one of the most compassionate people in the world. But deep below all my trust and love I can't help my fear. People hate and fear mutants even if they don't really believe in them. My fear's an insidious thing. It creeps into everything, even my relationship with Willow, the only real thing I could trust as I grew up. I try and banish it with jokes, most of the time it works and for the rest I just quiver in my booties and hope the bad thing will go away. The only way I could see to dig myself out of this one though was to tell her. ^Well I'm doing the shaking thing, and the joking definitely not working so that leaves.Yep, door number three, fess up and hope the shit hits the fan in a way that keeps the projectiles to a minimum.^
^Come on Xander you can do this.^ I stared at the computer in front of me and called on all of the skills Willow had drummed into my head. School is easy enough to blow off but when the Willomester wants you to learn something you learn it or you're subjected to the Resolve Face of Doom! I chuckled at the good memories as my fingers zipped over the keyboard. I was hacking into the City Hall records for New Orleans, or at least trying to. I felt a sweat drop roll down my back creating an icy trail. ^Damn this is harder without Wills.^ Before I'd always had the master hacker backing me up and I never realized just how great having her hovering over my shoulder was. I was almost in when a firewall popped up and toasted my ass. I slummed my head sliding down the computer screen with a soft squeal. I gazed straight into its neon brightness and moaned. ^I was so close.^
The line that I had never heard with my own ears drifted through my mind in a gruff voice that sounded of whiskey and cigarettes.
I winced. ^Oh, shut up.^ I told the memory fragment. Then peeled my forehead off the screen and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed my little melodrama. But Sunnydale Wilkinson's Memorial Library was just as crowded as when I'd first come in. The crowd consisting of Mrs. Shipley the librarian who I could see was still asleep on her desk surrounded by piles of newspapers that towered over her head. ^Now that also brings back fond memories.^ I saw the ghost of Jesse smiling and doing his victory dance in front of the computer to my right and a smiling Willow watching him from her chair and a younger Mrs. Shipley wake with a snort and yell for quiet. I shook my head to clear it and they faded away.
I focused back on the screen and cursed. "Se fecher pas mal." #damn it# I knew my accent was horrible but what did you expect going from second hand knowledge gleamed from a guy who used cartoons learn the language in the first place? The French words still slipped out with an ease that would have shocked my French teacher into the aneurysm he always grumbled I was trying to give him. He'd always proclaimed in the loudest voice possible, usually accompanied by more colorful words than the ones I'd just used, that the only way I'd learn anything was if someone cracked open my skull and physically inserted the knowledge. I smiled to myself. ^Close, but no cigar for le faux Parisian baudet.^ #the fake Parisian jackass# The closest he ever got to Paris was a cast.
Which was beside the point. I couldn't believe how hard it was to hack into the records I was after. ^The people in New Orleans must be more paranoid than Mulder!^ I'd run into some high end protections and this was the third time I'd been shut out. I was pretty sure I'd managed to keep whoever was guarding New Orleans from noticing my attempts, I'd been using subtly and not brute force because I didn't have the skill to escape a pro's attacks, but I wasn't sure I could keep that up. In fact I was sure I couldn't. I was way out of my minor leagues.
I needed major leagues. I needed Willow. I winced as I started shutting down the computer. That meant I had to tell her. ^Oh yeah, I can see that conversation. Wills I need your help to hack into the New Orleans City hall records. Why? Because, you see Anthony Harris isn't my real dad, aren't you happy for moi? Anyway my real papa lived there and I want to learn a bit more about the man before I show up on his doorstep claiming I'm his kid. How do I know this guy's really my dad? Well you see he's a mutant and so am I. How long have I known? Oh, not long just a couple days. Why didn't I tell you? Um, because.^ That's about when I'd run out of things to say, and it didn't even cover if she asked how long I'd know I was a mutant. Sheesh. My guilt trip would become a permanent vacation. I might as well ask Angel to put the bite on me. A wounded Willow out puppy-dog eyes the puppies.
I'm not good at expressing how I'm feeling. It probably stems from having parents who didn't give a rat's ass what I was feeling. The truth is I didn't know how to tell her. I'd scare up the nerve to do it but the words just wouldn't leave my mouth. I justified it by telling myself she had enough to handle what with the demons popping up every other night and the fighting for the world.
I wasn't truly afraid she'd reject me. She's my best bud and she'd stuck behind me when I was disgusting to everybody else already by just being a loser. Willow is one of the most compassionate people in the world. But deep below all my trust and love I can't help my fear. People hate and fear mutants even if they don't really believe in them. My fear's an insidious thing. It creeps into everything, even my relationship with Willow, the only real thing I could trust as I grew up. I try and banish it with jokes, most of the time it works and for the rest I just quiver in my booties and hope the bad thing will go away. The only way I could see to dig myself out of this one though was to tell her. ^Well I'm doing the shaking thing, and the joking definitely not working so that leaves.Yep, door number three, fess up and hope the shit hits the fan in a way that keeps the projectiles to a minimum.^