March 28, 2008

Washington D.C. Rashoud Facility

The door clicked and swung open, and Sean looked over his shoulder to see who it was. Dr. Coleman was smiling at him, his chart in hand, and Sean's heart constricted. He'd never gotten over the hope that it would be another doctor, someone gone now. Even oblique thoughts of his mother brought tears to his eyes, and Sean turned to look back out the window. He must have seemed surly, but he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t want anyone to see him crying. It seemed that was all he had done recently.

“How you doing, Champ?”

Sean shrugged, staring out the window and getting his emotions under control. When he thought he could speak without a problem, he lied, “I’m fine.” His voice cracked a little on him and within a heartbeat’s time, he was angry.

“Ok,” Coleman said, not pushing. They never pushed him, just accepted whatever lie he told them. That made him angry, too. None of them cared enough to even try to gain his trust. “I need to check ya out, ok?” He was just a job to them.

He wanted his mom. No, he wanted his mommy, that being that made everything better, even when she couldn’t make it better. He’d lost her a long time ago, when he’d spurned Santa Claus and hugs and her advice. He’d even take his mom right now, whom he’d fought with about just about everything, but whom he knew loved him, completely.

“Knock yourself out,” he muttered. It wasn’t like he had a choice. They had him moxed to the gills. He’d had to do a report on Mox in school; he knew exactly what it was doing to him.

A touch of irritation washed over Coleman’s face, and Sean felt a surge of victory for breaking the man’s cheerful resolve. “Alright, you know the drill, son.”

“I’m not your son.” The words were filled with so much venom and spite the Sean was shocked that they’d come from him. But that shock was drowned by the rage rising in him, making his ears roar with a rush of blood.

Coleman answered his angry eyes with rage in his own face. Calmly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a device, holding up in front of Sean. The teenager glared at it as the man said, “You don’t know what this is, do you? It’s a little machine that will trigger a loop in the video system.” Coleman smirked. “But you don’t get what that means… I can see it in your dumb eyes.”

Sean bared his teeth, an instinctive reaction. He wanted to attack; he was strong without his quantum. But he hesitated; something was telling him, not now. “I’m sure you’ll tell me. Or you won’t. I don’t give a fuck.”

“You should,” Coleman said. “It means that the cameras won’t catch anything that happens in this room for sixty seconds. A lot of time, to be trapped in a room with someone who has lost his control.” He leaned forward until Sean could feel his breath on the side of his face. “And you never know when someone is going to lose his control.”

Sean tried to boost; he reached for that power that was coiled in his body and tried to pull it to the surface, but it remained quiet. Too much Mox or not enough time for it to have worn off; it didn’t matter, as either way was the same result.

Sean tried for bravado. “I bet the facility administrators would love to know you have that, wouldn’t they?”

Coleman grinned. “Go ahead, tell them. I’ll deny it, and let’s be honest, you don’t have many friends here. Between my earned prestige and your surly attitude and history, I’m sure that the administrators will have no problem believing me. But feel free. I’m not scared of you, son.” The cold stethoscope touched his back through the opening in the gown, and Sean jumped. “Now… deep breath. And another… Good. Very good.”

Sean?

“Mom?” Sean jerked awake, the echoes of his mother’s voice still in his ears. For a second, he searched the dark room, looking for her. Then reality cut through the dream he’d been having, and Sean sank back into his pillows, wiping at his wet face and fighting new tears. She’d still been alive, in his dream, and coming to bring him home. He’d seen her, touched her.

But she wasn’t coming. No one was, because there was no one to come. And today, Sean had seen the result of having no protection. He was alone.

No longer tired, Sean shoved and pushed his pillows around until he was propped against the wall. He wished that he could get access to the OpNet, but they weren’t giving him access to machines until they were sure he wasn’t going to destroy them. Annoyingly, they had gotten shielded cameras to watch him but couldn't get him a shielded OpNet terminal. They had offered him books, but Sean didn’t like to read, and had quickly grown bored.

Like he was right now; with a sigh, he turned his mind to his other problems, like what had happened today. He couldn’t let Coleman just push him around and threaten him. There had been a lack of fearlessness to the man. He’d laughed when Sean pointed out that he wouldn’t be moxed forever. That laugh convinced him that something was terribly wrong.

After a moment of serious thought, his shoulders slumped. What could he do? Coleman was a doctor, and an adult, and he had a good reputation. Any accusations against Coleman would be ignored. No one would believe him. He was screwed.

No one here would believe him.

Which meant that he would have to leave. That was actually a pleasant thought; he hated being here because it looked like a hospital and everything reminded him of his mother. But how?

Break it down into small steps and problems, he told himself, closing his eyes. Address each one separately. Sean drew in a deep breath to steady himself and started.

Big problem: You need out. So the first step is… get out the door to the room. He knew the way to the entrance, but he didn’t remember any of the security measures. Or bypass the door entirely. He opened his eyes and glanced at the window. But if he was going to do that, he needed to bypass the Mox.

Sean wasn’t the brightest kid in the world. He had long aspired to be a doctor, but no one had the heart to tell him that he was better suited to anything that involved broad shoulders and rippling abs. But he was determined to get out of here, and with all of his determination, he applied his mind to the paper he had written last fall.

The chemical equations were in his mind; he’d been fascinated by a drug who’s only purpose was to turn a nova into a baseline. He ran over the chemical structure in his mind, recalling how it affected the nova body. Sean decided what he thought would counter it and he told his node to do that.

Nothing.

Taking another deep breath, Sean closed his eyes and thought harder. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.

“Black window may be in danger; gray horse has garnered attention.”

“Well, shit. Yeah, well, we knew it was a long shot. Fucking Pandora.”

“What are you orders?”

“Move gray horse tonight.”

Sean’s head was swimming; the voices were drawing him to the surface and his eyes fluttered, working to see past the bright lights. After a moment, he realized that the lights were from an overhead frame, like you saw in surgical setups.

That fact shot through him like a bolt and he scrambled to his feet, rolling off the bed he was on. Voices shouted; someone ran, followed by a door closing. He came up in a crouch, bowling over a stand and sending the objects on it flying. His eyes finally focused on Dr. Coleman, who was staring at him wide-eyed. “What were you going to do to me!?” Sean shouted.

“Nothing, Champ, nothing,” Coleman said, his voice soft and soothing. “We found you unconscious on your floor this morning; we’d moved you to a monitoring room to be sure you were ok. You’re fine… but we should determine what caused your episode.”

Sean touched his face and steadied himself with his other hand as he sank into a crouch. He vaguely remembered working on neutralizing Mox until he couldn’t see straight, but he didn’t remember anything after realizing he needed to pee.

He felt stronger than he had before.

Sean licked his lips nervously, unsure of what to do. He felt stronger than he had, but was that because he’d been sleeping? Was he actually stronger? Was he countering the mox in his system?

Or was rabid hope making him delusional?

“What is the gray horse about?” he asked.

Coleman’s face closed off, going completely blank. “Gray horse?” he asked carefully, his brow furling in clear puzzlement. “I don’t know… where did you hear that? It doesn’t sound like anything here at the Facility.” He was lying.

Sean felt something under his hand. The scalpel was bare against his fingers. He placed them carefully on the metal handle and squeezed. It bent in his grip and Sean bared his teeth in a predatory grin. Either he wasn’t moxed, or it had worked.

He leapt the bed in a flight-fueled jump, his fist ramming into Dr. Coleman’s jaw. Coleman went down, rolling into a ball and coming to his feet. “You’re a nova, too,” Sean said, hovering a couple of feet off the ground. “We can do this two ways – easy or hard. You’re smart enough to know which is which.”

Coleman jumped forward, reaching for Sean with a bare hand. Sean tried to duck but Coleman’s hand brushed him, and Sean’s heels hit the ground. His flight was gone.

Without hesitation, Sean boosted, feeling power fill his frame. He grabbed at Coleman and found out the first rule of fighting someone; it doesn’t matter how fast you are if you can’t catch the other guy. However, that lead to the second rule of fighting: it’s harder to dodge area attacks.

Sean ripped the table out of the floor and threw it at Coleman. His strength allowed him to be surprisingly fast; he was about to shift the mass of the metal structure easier. It caught Coleman by surprise, and he was slammed between it and the wall.

Sean pulled the table off, stripped the doctor’s coat off and emptied his pockets. The coat went on him and the money, security card and keys went into the pockets. Racing against time, Sean hurried out into the hall.

Lights were flashing and he heard shouts. The alarm had gone off already; they would be here soon. Sean looked left and right, and saw what he needed: a window. He didn’t have his flight, but he could see the ground from here, so it shouldn’t be too tall. Turning, he ran at the window, then through it, falling toward the ground. He tried to ignite his flight, but it wasn’t there. Instead, he met the ground.

The landing buckled Sean’s knees and he staggered forward, stumbling over broken glass and green grass. Immediately, he clambered to his feet and took off at a good clip, surprised when everything worked. Everything below his waist hurt like hell, but he could run.

Sean burst across the green space around the Facility, trying to get over the fence surrounding the compound before pursuers caught up to him. They’d have a least one nova capable of retrieving rogue novas.

Rogue. The word, when applied to himself, made him shiver with fear. It implied a lot of things, and none of them pleasant to a newly-orphaned fifteen year-old boy. He needed security, not a life on the run. Fate rarely gives us exactly what we need, and so he had no choice other than to run.

He reached the fence and jumped, trying to turn on his flight at the apex of the jump. His quantum wings were still broken and he tumbled toward the ground.

The retriever caught up with Sean before he hit the sidewalk beyond the fence. Arms wrapped around him and the ground jerked away from him. Twisting his head, he saw a flash of purple. Growling, Sean slammed his head backwards, trusting that he’d hit something and that it would hurt.

A strangled curse preceded a gush of blood and Sean was dropped. He screamed briefly, cutting off the cry to try to focus on the fall. That really only allowed him time to consider how far he was actually going to fall and to realize that his flight still wasn’t working.

This time, the landing hurt a lot more. Sean couldn’t breathe; his lungs were seized from the shock. Still, he pushed himself to his hands and knees, and then his feet, trying to get away. The whistle of something cutting through the air was all the warning he got.

The chunk of sidewalk he’d managed to reach was pried from the earth, and Sean spun like a discus thrower. The square cut awkwardly through the air, but the purple blur was really close and the concrete shattered against it. It veered off and turned, coming again. Sean’s lungs finally began to work again and he gasped for air as he pried another square of fake stone up.

As the purple streak barreled into him again, Sean spun, holding the concrete at the corners like a pillow. Right before the streak connected, Sean hit it like a kid in a pillow fight. It didn’t stop the streak from pounding into him, knocking him backwards into the street.

Sean landed on his back with a grunt. The streak was paused for a moment, and Sean could see that it was a small, petite woman with a pixie hair cut in purple and blue streaks. For a second, he faltered, which gave her enough time to punch him in the chest with a glowing fist. Pain flared from that hit, and Sean coughed, tasting blood. That scared him more than anything else had yet, and he grabbed the other nova by her delicate face and slammed his head into her face.

She slumped, unable to stand the pounding that his super-nova physique was handing out. Sean laid her to the side, charmed by her cute features, even through his terror. He hoped she was alright, but he couldn’t stay to see.

Climbing to his feet, he ran some more. Every few steps, he tried to fly. Just when he was starting to think he’d never fly again, that Coleman had stripped him of it forever, his feet left the ground. Sean picked a direction away from the ocean and flew as fast as he could.

Sunday, March 30, 11:40 p.m.

Sean flew until he felt too tired to continue, staying low and away from the roads. He’d also avoided people, taking a complicated, zigzag route to where ever he was. Once he’d set his feet on the ground, he realized how tired he was; he was sure he wouldn’t be back in the air anytime soon. “I hope this is a good place,” he mumbled, glancing around nervously.

He’d landed in a park in some city; it was colder here, and he hunched deeper into the thin white coat, fighting off a cold that wasn’t dangerous, just uncomfortable. I wish I had something heavier to wear, he sighed to himself. Heck, something that’s not a hospital gown and pants would be good, too.

And he was.

Sean jumped, half-a-heartbeat away from stripping his coat off his shoulders. Instead he glanced down at himself, surprised to see his favorite t-shirt, the one signed by Lance of Drake’s Fire. His most comfortable pair of jeans hugged his legs, while his leather jacket hung around his shoulders. “Oh, crap,” he muttered, as he realized that he hadn’t stolen just a coat from the doctor, but his eufiber.

His feet were still bare and Sean frowned at them. He wiggled his toes once, and then the most comfortable pair of Conair’s Q-airs he’d never owned were encasing his sore feet. “Ok, that’s awesome.”

No longer feeling quite so exposed, Sean walked out of the park, looking for some sign of his location. The cars parked in the streets here were a mixture of Illinois and Indiana, so he was somewhere close to the border of the two states, probably. Considering that they butted together for a good stretch of distance, that only narrowed things down slightly.

Bright lights pulled his eyes to the left, where a bank and a game store rested together on the same short, grimy block. The bank confirmed that he was in Indiana and gave him the time: 11:45 p.m. The game store offered something else altogether.

Sean entered the store, noting that it closed at midnight. “Hey,” he said, nodding at the guy behind the counter. “Got some opnet-capable terminals I could use for a moment?”

“Sure, it’s five per hour, but we close in fifteen, so a buck, twenty-five,” the guy said, pushing a clip board at Sean. “Just sign this and hand over some id.”

“Uhhh… I don’t have it on me,” Sean stammered. Biting his lip, he leaned forward, putting on his best friendly, good-ole-boy expression. “Come on… I just gotta check my email. I’m waiting to hear from a cute girl.”

He’d always been a terrible liar, and the distrust in the guy’s greasy face reflected that. Suddenly, the man shrugged, taking on the air of boredom. “Whatever. Go check on your ‘girlfriend.’ But if I find you downloading gay porn, I’m calling the cops. Still gotta sign in.”

Sean blushed red, caught between defending his sexuality and just slinking away in defeat. Still blushing, he signed the sheet as ‘Ryan O’Conner,’ ignoring the guy’s dubious snort as he took the board back. “Here’s the password. You have twelve minutes.”

“Thanks,” Sean mumbled, taking the paper and finding the right machine. Sitting down, he typed in the password and opened a browser. He surfed straight to a search engine and typed in ‘Nova help.’

The returning searches were too many, and none were immediately helpful. Grumbling irritably, Sean tried, ‘Nova questions.’ The first link was promising, and he clicked it. It was to a forum where baselines could ask questions, linked to a larger nova-only site. He started to make an account for the nova-only site, only to find out that it required some kind of verification that he was nova. “Damnit,” he growled, backing out to the ‘Ask a Nova!’ thread.

With five minutes left, he typed out a quick plea for help, promising to be back when he could to get in touch with that help. “Time’s up,” Sean heard the guy holler, and he hit the ‘Submit’ key in case the guy pulled his OpNet connection.

“Right, right,” Sean said, going back to the search engine and dumping the cookies. Hopefully, if someone tracked him here, they wouldn’t see what he’d done. He paid the attendant and left, seconds ahead of the lights going out and the lock snapping in the door.

Counting his money, Sean ground his teeth. Twenty bucks and some change wouldn’t last long, not with his appetite. That thought sparked another; he hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning. His stomach took that as permission to growl. Picking a random direction, he walked into the darkness, hoping to find something cheap to eat.

Monday, March 31, 11:33 p.m.

Sean had learned one thing about living on the street in the last twenty-four hours. It sucked.

Of course, some of the suck could be the fact that he was in Gary, Indiana. Sean was shaky on his Midwest geography, but even he had heard about the giant hole of suck that was Gary. And surely some of the suck came from the fact that he hadn’t slept for about three days and he was hungry.

He still had ten dollars, though strength of will he didn’t know he possessed. He still wasn’t sure he possessed it, only that he knew that it was all the money he had, and the dumpsters were all he’d have left when the money was gone. He’d poked half-heartedly at a dumpster, knowing that sooner or later he’d succumb to the outcome.

Unless he was captured first.

“Come on,” he muttered, “think positive. Don’t think you’re going to starve or get captured, that you stink like the alley you hid in last night. Hey, your clothes look fine.” They had shed dirt and slime with a thought, after he’d accidentally sat in something terrible.

He’d found a new cyber café and slipped in just before close, trying to take advantage of the last minute lull. This time, it took Sean several minutes to convince the clerk to let him use the terminal without id; she’d been much more rule-bound than the last guy. To his shock, his cutest smile and pleading expression had gotten him what he wanted.

As the terminal logged in, he glanced at his dim reflection in the dark screen of the computer next to him. He hadn’t noticed, but his features had smoothed out, becoming more symmetrical and a bit more rugged. He still looked like a teenager, but older and more attractive. No wonder the clerk had let him use the machine.

Turning back to the computer, he surfed back to that page and read the messages with a growing sense of disbelief. He quickly checked each person who had offered help; Elites and a Utopian. And don’t forget: the Elite who chastised him. “What the fuck does she think?” he grumbled, starting to type. “That someone is dumb enough to fuckin’ prank novas?”

He worked on the message, typing as fast as he could. Before yesterday, his typing requirements had been minimal, and much of it had been done through a game controller. He wasn’t breaking any typing records, but adrenaline was a heady upper.

A strange smell filled the room, and Sean jerked his head, looking around. The room was full of a green smoke. Cursing, he finished his message and submitted the post before taking a longer look. Whatever the smoke was, it wasn’t doing much, and the boy took a step to the front of the room.

The cashier was on the floor, grasping with curled fingers at her throat. She didn’t appear to be breathing. Sean’s eyes widened and he grabbed her, lifting her effortlessly despite her heavy frame. He pushed out the door into the clear air, realizing a moment too late that it was probably exactly what they wanted him to do.

“Sean McCline,” a voice boomed out. “You will accompany me to the Chicago Utopia Center.”

“Over my dead body!” Sean yelled, realizing again that he probably shouldn’t offer the other guy options he couldn’t live with afterwards.

“I have no interest in killing you,” the Voice said, stepping out of the shadow. Light that had refused to find the man a moment before now glinted off a white, gold and blue Utopian uniform.

“Wow, so eager to get me you’ll harm innocents,” Sean muttered, laying the woman down. She appeared to be breathing again, drawing in great gasps of air. Her hands still clung to him, confused and in pain. Sean let her hold onto him as she recovered, starting to cry.

“She’ll be fine. The gas only suspends animation temporarily,” the Voice said, stepping closer and revealing a tall man, sparsely built with thick brown hair and black light eyes. “You didn’t succumb at all, so she was exposed longer than I intended. I didn’t realize that you were resistant to gas. That wasn’t in your report.”

“Uhh… surprise?” Sean said. The woman had relaxed and he was able to ease away from her. He gathered his body and prepared to burst into action.

“Indeed,” the man said, a smile curving his lips. He lifted his fists, which began to glow with a black flame. Shadows began to pour off his body, thick and black.

Sean boosted and shot into the sky, leaping away from the growing pool of darkness. The tendril followed after him, looping and briefly catching at his ankle. He jerked away savagely, stronger than the shadow grabbing him. He started to fall toward the ground, but quickly ignited his flight and took off, shooting through the air. Gary fell behind him, its condensed lights breaking into smaller ones.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed that he was being pursued. Of course they’d send a flyer. You surprised them once; you won’t get another shot, Sean thought grimly. Maybe he could surprise them, even if they thought they were ready for him.

Sean cut back his speed slowly, letting the guy close the gap. When he felt he was close enough, Sean spun onto his back and threw something at his pursuer. It was the thing he’d tossed at the fucker who’d shot his mother. Sean wasn’t sure what it was; they’d called it ‘bad luck’ and ‘probability corruption’ back at the Facility.

There was no visible affect on the nova, but Sean felt fate twist. Angling up a bit, he drew the nova after him like a kite tail; when the arc was right, he cut his flight completely. Tumbling, he fell toward the nova, who moved to swerve.

The guy zigged. He should have zagged.

Sean’s boots caught him in the face. The guy screamed as his nose and some of his cheek caved in, making a terrible noise. Sean grimaced at the sight, feeling sick to his stomach. The guy twisted in mid-air, putting distance between them as Sean tumbled past him. “You fucking brat!” the man screamed, shooting after Sean. “You broke my goddamned nose! I’m going to fucking kill you!”

The man didn’t slam into him, as Sean expected. Instead, he gestured. Worried, Sean tried to get out of the way, but there was a pulling sensation behind him. He ignited his flight, pulling against it, but it was stronger than his ability to fly. The ravaged face of the Utopian above him gave him a broken grin and waved sardonically.

Sean fell faster and faster, his flight useless. He twisted, hoping to see an empty space below. He’d hoped it would be Lake Michigan below him. Instead, bright lights blazed up at him, an obscene set of running lights guiding him into a ghastly landing.

He hit the roof screaming, “Aww, fuck ME!”

Keys clicked away on the laptop PC sitting on the unmade hospital bed. IM messages chimed right and left as she struggled to keep up with all of them. Since her eruption Contessa had gone from social outcast to everyone’s best friend. No one had even seen her yet and yet by the virtue that she was a nova everyone wanted to be her friend now.

It made her sick. Sick to her stomach in way that can’t even be put into writing. There was on person on her ‘Buddy List” that got plenty of attention however, her best friend, Mixie, who also was still in the dark about what the Quantum Gods had blessed her (or cursed) her with. Contessa giggled as she clicked away a reply to a question that was being asked nearly every hour.

MixiePlix: So, when are you coming home?!?
Calamity Jane: I don’t know. They told me today that it might be another week.
MixiePlix: WHAT!?! That’s total ass, I miss you! I have no one to hang out with and I’m running out of your shirts. .

C.J. rolled her eyes and laughed silently. When she got home none of her old shirts would fit her and she knew it. She was still acclimating to the experience of having a chest but every time she looked in the mirror she knew it was new wardrobe time. Sitting Indian-style in her bed in a pair of burgundy yoga pants and a plain white tee (thankfully wearing a bra courtesy of her father making a special trip for a few).

She eyed the 20oz of Coke on the table across the room. While still chuckling at Mixie’s IM decided she was long overdue for a drink.

Calamity Jane: BRB, need a drink.

She clicked away quickly and shuffled off her bed to get her beverage. Catastrophe struck as a thunderous crash sounded through out her room. A cloud of dust erupted from what seemed like nowhere as debris fell from above.

She screamed, startled by the surprise, and leapt back as quick as she could cupping her mouth with both hands trying to make sense of the sudden shock.

The dust cleared and Contessa stood by her hospital bed her bare feet growing cold on the floor. Something moved and she though she heard someone groan. On her tiptoes she peered through the settling dust. When she saw someone she ran through the mess to quickly come to his side. “Oh my god, are… are you okay?” she said, her voice cracking as the panic hadn’t quite subsided.

Sean fell, still trying to fly the other way. He could feel his power pulling him up, as if he was flying, but he fell faster. It wasn’t until he was having trouble breathing that he realized that the nova above him was messing with gravity.

Hitting the roof was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced. Hitting the roof was like belly-flopping titanium, or at least, that’s what it felt like. The echoes of the impact rang through him, even as he hit the floor of the room below. That he didn’t feel; he was completely numb from the impact with the roof.

Even before the dust settled, he had rolled to his knees, adrenaline allowing him to push himself harder. Getting from his knees to his feet required more effort. Sean groaned as he tried to push to his feet and failed, landing on his hands and knees.

Someone touched him; luckily for Contessa, Sean was too weak to follow through on his instinct to turn and punch wildly. “Oh my god, are… are you okay?” an unknown voice asked, wavering and completely sexy.

Sean failed to notice its inherent sexiness on account of pain. He was lucky to notice that someone else was in the room. It took all of his remaining brainpower to realize that the other person might be in danger. “Oh, god,” he moaned, lifting his head, seeing three people for a second. He could see a silhouette; his libido tried to impart how fantastic that silhouette was to his brain, but it was more concerned with the agony burning through his nerves. “You need to run. He’s right behind me.”

“Ma’am? Please step aside,” that fucking booming voice announced through the hole on the roof. Sean’s breath hissed through his teeth as he tried to rise one again, and was denied. “I am Daren “Grav-well” Riley of Team Tomorrow. This young man is to be taken into Utopia’s custody.”

It couldn’t end like this. “No,” Sean whispered, his hand closing over one of Contessa’s. He grabbed at human contact, reaching for the single kind person he’d met in days. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

She gripped the man close, as if protecting. "Utopia is not the law. If you want to take him into custody then you will land, step back, and wait for the appropriate authorities to arrive."

Contessa was playing hardball. Her brow was furrowed and it almost looked like she was ready for a fight. Normally a very quiet and timid young woman she did not tolerate the abuse of another human being. He's no older than me. she thought.

The door to her room burst open and several people rushed in. A few nurses, an orderly, her father and one of the Utopian Physicians that was handling her eruption studies.

"Contessa!" Her father shouted and moved quickly, with little care for any harm that may come to him, to his daughter's side. Kneeling beside her and the young man he had to ask. "What in God's name is going on here?"

He had a defender. The boy who had always been ready to jump to his mother’s aid found someone protect him. Strong arms circled Contessa’s waist, clinging to her to stay upright. She smells good, Sean thought distantly, trying to focus on the conversation.

Grav-well eyed the people in the room and forced a smile on his face. His teeth gleamed in the glow from his eyes as blood dripped from the wound on his face. His nose was flat and bone protruded on one cheekbone, while he scowled and gritted his remaining teeth. His horrific expression destroying the calm, rational demeanor he was trying to achieve. “Doctor…” he said, glancing at the Utopian physician.

“Cornwall,” the physician said, frowning and trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Dr. Cornwall, can I have a word?” Grav-well asked, gesturing to a corner.

“Yes.” Cornwall allowed himself to be pulled into the corner. “What is going on here?”

“This boy escaped from a facility,” Grav-well murmured softly. “I believe him to be dangerous.”

Cornwall raised a skeptical eyebrow and glanced at the beaten boy huddled at Contessa’s feet. “Dangerous how?” he asked, humoring his collogue for a moment.

Grav-well spoke up, his deep voice pitched so that everyone in the room could hear. “He’s the kid who killed all those people at John Hopkins. He attacked his doctor at the Rashoud facility.”

“He threatened me,” Sean said, his voice shaking. Aware he could hurt the girl he was hugging, he didn’t tighten his arms, but he dug his hands into her clothing, pulling it into balls in his fists. “He said he could turn off the cameras in my room and he could do anything to me.”

Contessa's father, Doctor Peter Danae, placed one hand on Sean's shoulder as the young man clutched his daughter. Her skin was soft and smooth and yet she was as solid as a brick. Her muscle density during her eruption had tightened in a manner most common in reptiles, granting her incredible durability and a very firm body*.

"Escaped?" He said calmly. "I wasn't aware that Rashoud Facilities were prisons. Young man, do you have a name?"

"Dad," Contessa looked to where her father's was placed on Sean's shoulder. "His humerus is abducted from the glenoid fossa."

"What?" Grav-well asked. "What did she say?"

"His shoulder is dislocated." Doctor Danae spoke out without looking up at the nova. Inwardly he smiled. Contessa's use of technical terminology made him proud. "We'll need to treat him, and we should probably take a look at that face of yours Grav-well."

"I can't let you do that," Grav-well took a step forward. "He needs treatment at a facility, this place isn't equipped..."

Contessa, glittering with motes of golden quantum streaming from her body as she stepped forward, and blocked the nova. Trans-located from her current position on the floor Contessa's node warped space. She didn't clone herself, she quite literally existed in two places at once.

The 'clone' impeded the nova's advance. "Just leave him alone! Okay! If my Dad says this guy needs help then back off and let him do his job. It's your fault he's like that!." Her heart ached. She couldn't stand being like this. Angry, loud, forceful. It just wasn't her at all, but she couldn't let this guy, who was obviously the cause of Sean's pain, just scoop him up while injured and soar off with him. Not of what Sean said was true and the Utopians had treated him poorly.

Meanwhile the entire room fell into a bit of confusion. Until now Contessa's trans-location abilities had remained her secret.

"Sean," Sean muttered, unsure if anyone was still paying attention to him or if they were all focused on the beautiful woman who kept multiplying. "I have a concussion," he added, feeling his head throb. "I hit my head, I'm nauseous and I'm seeing double pretty-ladies."

He was largely ignorant of the chaos around him. His world had been reduced to the sweet-smelling object keeping him from lying on the floor and the kind voice who was connected to the hands gently testing his wounds. "You're a doctor," he said to the man. "I can tell, because my mom is one." Reality intruded, and Sean shivered a little. "Was. She was a doctor."

Meanwhile, Grav-well was in an uncomfortable position. A young nova had clearly been besotted by the target, which he had been ordered to recover. She was too young to fight, and her father was in the room, not to mention the fact that Cornwall was clearly uninterested in detaining the boy. Even the nurses, normally the most sensible women on earth, were starting to cluster around the fugitive, making medical noises as they started to assess both the girl and the boy. The girl apparently was displaying a new power, and attention be being split between the two young novas. Worse, people were starting to ignore him.

"Dr. Cornwall, I have to insist that you move him to a sec-"

"And I insist you let me do my job," Dr. Cornwall said. His face was reddening as he moved away from Clontessa, standing toe-to-toe with Grav-well and shaking with anger. "If you want to guard him, you can, but you will stand down and allow him to receive treatment."

"I'm about to pass out," Sean said into the silence after Cornwall's statement. "I'm powering down now."

"What-?" Dr. Danae started to ask, but Sean was as good as his word. His extra strength and toughness disappeared like a soap bubble popping, and his injuries overwhelmed him.

Thursday, April 03, 2008
Home of Doctor Peter Danae & Contessa Jane Danae.

Doctor Danae looked up from his meal. The still in the air was frustrating and the constant sound of their utensils clanking against flatware was getting on his nerves. "Contessa, enough already, it's been three days."

"So." His gorgeous daughter said to him from the opposite end of the table. She hadn't spoken to him since the day in hospital when Sean was treated for his injuries. Her father made a monumentally stupid decision that had set Contessa from shocked and compassionate for Sean's situation to shocked and irritated.

"I said enough Contessa." He was losing his patience with his daughter and he took a very rarely heard tone of sternness with her. "What is the matter with you young lady?"

Her fork dropped loudly onto her plate. "Oh I don't know, maybe because you're bringing home novas to our house dad. We don't know anything about that guy and you just invite him to stay with us. Without even asking me what I think."

"Punkin'" He started.

"Don't 'punkin'' me dad. What if slits our throats while we're sleeping!?!" She knew he was most likely harmless. Contessa's real problem with the situation was that until her eruption her life had been relatively problem free and easy to predict. Wake up, go to school, get laughed at, come home, hang with Mixie, cry herself to sleep. In recent days she'd had a young man crash through her ceiling, was almost pounded flat by a psycho nova and now the same guy who caused all this drama was sleeping in their spare bedroom!

"He has no where to go C.J." He sipped his wine. "It's just temporary while the authorities investigate his allegations. He's been through a lot and should be in a stable home right now, not some stuffy cell being treated like an experiment."

"I just... I just don't like him being here. I just want everything to go back to how it was. Just us. No calls from Utopia or DeVries or media flashing pictures outside the house." She sighed. It was obvious she was not taking the transition from baseline to nova well at all. "You know?"

Sean woke up, sliding into consciousness slowly. Frowning, he blinked at the strange ceiling, wondering what had happened to his poster of Slider playing beach volleyball*. But his confusion faded after a moment, and he remembered what had happened.

Mom.

Coleman.

Grav-well.

Dr. Danae and his mysteriously furious daughter, Contessa.

Sean turned on his side and started his new morning ritual: crying. This morning, this normal grief session was interrupted by voices. Snuffing, Sean lifted his head, wiping at his eyes, listening. At first, he felt rude, but that faded when he realized they were talking about him.

He sat up, expecting it to hurt. Every day, he felt better, and the speed at which he was healing shocked him. Today had another surprise: no pain at all. They’d said he’d heal fast. He hadn’t been ready for how fast. “This is cool,” he murmured as he rotated his arm, feeling nothing in the joint but smooth motion.

Standing, he walked through the house. He knew the way to the bathroom, but the rest of the house was a hazy and half-remembered through the pain. Pain and exhaustion both had turned him into a zombie. Fortunately, the guest room was close to the kitchen.

He caught the tail end of Contessa’s statement. “Umm, I can go,” he said softly, crossing his arms and trying to look nonchalant. The thought of being cut loose had him near panic, but he wouldn’t show it, especially not in front of the beautiful blonde girl. He’d learned two things since coming here: Contessa was a painfully hot girl who could clone herself; and Contessa, for all of her compassion in the hospital, really hated him. “I don’t want to be in the way.”

*It wasn’t really Slider, but one of many look-a-likes who has flooded the market. Utopia pinky-swears that’s true.

Her father glared at her and Contessa almost shrank in her seat. Of all the things for him to hear her say it had to be that. "Sean. Glad to see you up and about, how's the shoulder?"

"Fine, thanks." He murmured. Something that resembled a courteous grin was sent in Doctor Danae's direction as the young man unthinkingly rubbed his once wounded arm.

"Sean, please sit," He extended his arm in open invitation to an empty seat at the table. "I'm Doctor Peter Danae, and this is my daughter, Contessa."

All she could do was smile. The kind of smile that says 'hello I'm a complete and utter tool'.

"Contessa, could you get Sean some dinner please?" She nodded, excusing herself with an embarrassed smile; she floated off into the kitchen, a bit thankful to be removed from the scene. “And no flying in the house, we’ve talked about that Contessa.”

“Please excuse her Sean, she’s going through a period of adjustment right now, much like you are.” His smile was sincere and his ability to gain rapport with his calm voice and concerned expressions was obviously well learned. “I’d like to open up our home to you, give you a place to live and take time to adjust to your gifts. The authorities are looking into your allegations of mistreatment but I spoke on your behalf and was able to get them to allow you to stay here until this situation is straightened out. You can’t run forever Sean.”

In the kitchen…

Way to go Tessa. Way to be a moron. She mentally berated herself as she coasted about the kitchen gathering Sean’s meal. What is wrong with me? I’m cranky, irritable, and I’ve been completely unpleasant to dad since we got home. It was true. Since her eruption Contessa’s life had been so complicated and busy and difficult to deal with that it hadn’t been anything like she thought it would be.

All she wanted was to be a normal sixteen-year-old girl who wasn’t picked on at school or had rocks tossed at her by the Flatley brothers. Frankly her life was so complicated right now that she had no idea how to handle it. Emotionally, Tessa was in over her head. It never registered that Sean being cute had a bit to do with it too. Typical. Even half dead the first thing he did was bury his face in my chest. Pig. God I hope he doesn't remember that.

Sean did his best not to stare openly at Contessa as she floated gracefully out of the room. He didn't remember all the events of the hospital clearly, but he remembered her, remembered her smelling good and being so soft. A mature man would have accepted that he found a gorgeous woman attractive, and moved on with his life. Sean felt his face go red as he became very unsoft.

"Um," he said, sliding his chair closer to the table. "Do you want me to stay? Why?"

"Where else would you go Sean?" Dr. Danae asking, smiling to show that he wasn't being mean, just practical. "Back to a Utopian cell or out on the streets? Please, I'd graciously welcome you as our guest."

Sean shivered just a little. The man's words made sense, and they'd taken a bit of the edge off the erection he was hiding under the table. "I assume-"

Contessa returned with his food, and Sean gave her a quick smile. Any one, man or woman, setting food in front of him would have gotten a smile at that moment. But it maybe was a little warmer because it was the pretty nova.

Sean's eartips lit up, almost sending off red light as he hunched over his food, avoiding looking at Contessa again. Sean was hungry; he hadn't been able to eat when he'd been so hurt. He wasn't sure he'd ever feel full again. "I assume there'd be rules, right, Dr. Danae?" he asked between shoveling in large bites of food.

"Well, yes," He smiles warmly. He took another sip of his drink and continued. "You'd be required to attend school, and maintain good grades, as well as stay out of trouble."

Dr. Danae was quiet for a moment. He let Sean begin eating and waited for ahile before continueing figureing the boy certainly deserved a meal after all he'd been through. "Please understand Sean that you'd still have to associate with the Utopian Beureu of Investigations (UBI), assissting them in getting to the bottom of this mess is the priority. I'm not 'hiding' you here, I working with the authorities and providing you wit ha stable environment while you get your life back on track."

"You're making him sound like a recovering Crack Head dad." Contessa half laughed from across the table.

The doctor shook his head, trying not to grin. His daughters dimplomacy skills certainly required work, of that he was sure. "The alternative Sean is a Utopian cell, or life on the streets running, and please understand that I'm not threatening you, I just want you to know all the options available to you. We can't make you stay, but we'd certainly love to have you as our guest."

Contessa rolled her eyes, luckily Sean didn't notice, but apparently she didn't agree with the 'love to have you as our guest' part.

Sean pushed his empty plate away and hide a belch behind his hand, reddening again when a soft rumble was still audible. “ ’Scuse me,” he muttered, wondering if he was going to be blushing to some degree for his entire stay here.

Turning, he looked at Dr. Danae again. “Thanks, Dr. Danae. I’ll trying to get this all tied up and be out of your hair as soon as possible.” He hesitated, then asked softly, “Which school will I be going to? Is there anyway I could… use another name? Or not be me? You know. Just because… it’ll be easier. On Contessa. If she doesn’t have to… you know. Be known to be living with someone like me. You know.”

They know you’re a moron now, Sean grimaced to himself. He picked up his plate, then set it down again nervously, pretending to straighten up by stacking his glass and silverware on it. He glanced at Contessa and then quickly away, trying to read her, but not wanting to look at her, or see the expression on her face as she looked at him. She thinks you’re a moron, too.

He wanted his mom. He stifled that thought before it made him cry again.

Say something, he already must think you're a moron for what you said earlier. Contessa looked up from her plate, set her fork down gently and addressed Sean. "Someone like, who? I don't get it." Reaching for her glass of milk she split her attention between Sean and not spilling her drink. "A nova? News flash Sean, I'm one of those people too."

Her smile was nothing short of spectacular and the sincerity in her comfort of the young nova could have melted even the hardest heart. "There is no reason you should need any other name than Sean. Trust me, you'll be fine."

Hard hearts weren't the problem, and Sean learned the hard way that sometimes, extreme emotions can dull desire. "I killed a bunch of people, Contessa," he said, anger combining with guilt and fear to make his tone cold. But it allowed him to look her in the eye with feeling his body react.

He stood up and picked up his diningware. "It's not because I'm a nova... It's because I'm a killer." He stalked from the room, intent on finding the kitchen. His exit was ruined by his pause at the doorway to figure out which way to go.

"now hold on ther eson," Dr. Danae chimed in. "I know what happened was certainly unfortunate, but it wasn't your fault Sean. The catalyst that triggers eruptions can happen at any time. What happened was not your fault."

"He's right Sean. I'm sorry it happened, really. Especially that it happened to you." Contessa set her glass back on the table. "You have to let it go Sean, I know it still hurts, but it it''s in the past." She reached out and compassionately touched Sean's hand. Her soothing smile and luminous quantum blue eyes assured Sean's attention. "What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now."

Sean just between Dr. Danae and Contessa for a long moment, his face uncertain and troubled. "I can try... but... it's not that easy," he said. He met Contessa's eyes, his hazel-green eyes troubled. "I don't know how. It's... how do you put seven dead babies behind you? Those kids should grow up-"

Sean cut off his sentence with a suddenness that was startling. Without another word, he left the room.

Several minutes later...

Softy music played in the background of Contessa's room, heard faintly through the partly open door. She was downstairs putting dishes in the dish washer and was also in the laundry room putting in a load of clothes to dry for school tomorrow. The 'real' her however was looking down from her balcony high above Sean whom she saw down in the back yard below.

He was crying, per usual, and in the chilly night air a compassionate voice within her urged her to float carefully on gravity's embrace and offer him something to wrap around his self to keep warm, yet still, she knew he needed to be alone. She couldn't place her self in his shoes, but knew that'd she more than likely feel similar in his situation. He did kill children when he erupted but undoubtedly it wasn't his fault, and his mother was slain despite erupting to save her. Contessa couldn't imagine how hard it must be from him to deal with that.

How can you make someone understand? she thought silently, observing as he paced around the large backyard for several minutes, unaware of his lovely audience. He came to a stop, resting his arms on the black iron safety fence that surrounded their pool. The night was clear and didn't show a reflection of itself in the well lit crystalline waters, but the hypnotic shimmering and melodic movement of its surface caught his attention and there he stood meditating quietly with his own inner demons.

Delicate, well manicured and polished fingers slid a golden lock gently behind her ear that the breeze had blow free from its place behind the hair band she was wearing to keep her hair from out of her eyes. He who is devoid of the power to forgive, is devoid of the power to love. The young blonde recalled a quote from a wise man and wonderful person, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.. Please Sean, I know it's only been a few days but events like this can stay with a person forever. Don't let it win. Forgiveness can not change the past, but it will enlarge your future.

As silent as the early Spring breeze Contessa slipped away behind the balcony door and back into her bedroom. Sean's battle would not be an easy one for sure, but she was adamant, despite not being particularly fond of him, that he would not fight it alone.