July 7, 2008

Syracuse, NY

Jael stepped off the airplane, pulling her carry-on bag a little higher on her shoulder. Reynold had dropped her off in Phoenix last Thursday, which had given her long weekend with her folks before she had left again. She had missed her family, and seeing them had been a welcome stop. But now she was off again, moving onto her college tour.

It had been a long flight from Phoenix to Syracuse, about seven hours, but the teen nova didn't show it in her long-legged stride off the plane. She was wearing a casual business suit, conservative and appropriate for the person she was meeting. She drew looks as she walked, her head high and looking like she had stepped off the cover of Hot Business Women. She heard whispers of 'nova' as she passed people, but all the guesses she caught were way off; she wasn't well known enough to be picked out of a crowd yet.

The woman walking down the concourse was a very different woman who had last been publically seen at a Phoenix hospital. Beyond the obvious healing that she'd already experienced, she walked with a confidence that she hadn't displayed before. She moved with the marked grace of a nova, and some of the awkwardness she'd carried over from her baseline days were gone. She looked strong, both mentally and physically, a predator in her prime. And she felt better, too, than her confusing days where she'd slept with Daniel and had hurt herself intentionally. And while she'd missed Charles, she felt better than she thought she would, able to live without him.

Her eyes scanned the waiting area, latching quickly onto a woman holding a sign marked, "Ms. Carver." Smiling, Jael removed her sunglasses and walked toward her, extending her hand as she approached. "Mrs. Noeller?" Jael inquired.

"Yes, hello, Jael," Mrs. Noeller said, smiling a white smile with lots of teeth. Her handshake was firm, and her eye contact solid. "You can call me Samantha, though. Welcome to Syracuse."

"Thank you for having me," Jael replied as she let Samantha whisk her away from the terminal and lead her to the baggage area.

"It's the University's pleasure, I assure you," Samantha smiled, her professional-looking hair style bouncing with each step. "We'd hoped to have you out before now. I'm just glad you could come and see your future home."

Jael smiled at the assured comment, knowing that it was far from sure. Syracuse had made her a fantastic offer, but after she'd become better known, she'd started to have other offers from universities she'd never considered before. Some of them clearly didn't care about her interests; they wanted a nova to attend their school. In most cases, she had turned the University down immediately, dissatisfied with them for one reason or another. But they were all willing to vie for her; even Syracuse had sweeted the pot with a full scholarship in their attempt to get her to accept their offer. But before she said yes, she was seeing a few of the colleges in a whirlwind trip, starting in Syracuse, her first choice.

Samantha lead her the the baggage carasol and helped her snag her bags. Jael saw her assess the amount of luggage that Jael had brought and realize that Syracuse University wasn't Jael's only stop on this trip. Without any loss in enthuasism, Samantha helped Jael lug the bags out to her waiting car. "I hope you've got your intinerary; we've only got a couple of days, so let's get started, ok?"

"Sure," Jael was quick to agree, eager to get past this point. The activities and events were a necessary evil to get to the fun parts of her trip, and Jael couldn't wait for the real reason she was here.

The next six hours were a blur of meetings and tours. Jael met the head of the Criminal Justice department, a very friendly older man who made her laugh. She saw the Criminal Justice department and toured the major buildings at the University. At seven that evening, Samantha took her to one of the cafeterias and sat her down for dinner. "So," the Syracuse representative asked as she dug politely into a salad. "What did you think?"

Jael nodded, her first hamburger hanging from her hands. "It's a beautiful campus," she said, keeping her voice even and noncommittal. In truth, she loved the campus, but she wasn't going to commit until she'd seen all of colleges she was visiting this month. This was going to be an awesome summer trip, and Charles had been so kind to pay for all of it. Her parents thought the universities were paying for her travel, and they were helping. But most of it was Charles.

"Well, after dinner, I thought I'd drop you off at the dorm, and we'll finish the last tour tomorrow," Samantha said, interrupting Jael's thoughts.

"Sounds great," she enthused, silently praying that this would end soon.

Thankfully, Samantha seemed to sense her frustration, and within twenty minutes, Jael was safe in her dorm room. She waited exactly ten minutes before sneaking out the window and flying into the early evening. Skimming trees and buildings, she flew until she found the Parkview Hotel, several blocks away. She changed her features so that she was nobody special, then landed and approached the main desk. "Charles Sakolove's room, please," she murmured.

The clerk checked his computer and nodded. "He's in room 505, and he's expecting you."

"Thank you," Jael said and headed for the elevator. The ride seemed to take forever, especially when he reached out and began to stroke her mind, leaving her weak-kneed and panting with desire before she'd reached his floor. When he opened his door, they came together with a desperate passion, an almost painful need. Charles barely got the door closed before Jael was jerking him toward the bed, kissing him and stripping his clothing with swift, sure movements. And Charles was just as eager as she, hungry for her after a month apart.

After several hours, both were sated and finally quiet, lying tangled together in bed. "So how was the University?" Charles asked softly, running his fingers up and down her back.

Jael whimpered under the soft caress of his hand before answering. "It was fine," she murmured. "It'd be a nice place to go."

He sighed, looking disgrunted. "You really should go somewhere closer to Phoenix," he said.

Jael opened her mouth to say she might, and realized what she was about to say. But she didn't want to; she wanted to go somewhere else, somewhere that wasn't Phoenix. For her to almost change her mind like that was unsettling. But even as she questioned her thoughts, she realized that for Charles, she would make the sacrifice, if she had to stay to be with him. "Well," she said, "before we started dating, I wouldn't have considered it, but now... couldn't you move to be with me?" A long distance relationship was out of the question. Forget her earlier thoughts; she needed this man, needed to be near him.

He was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know, Jael. It's... I'll think about it, ok?"

"Ok," she said, smiling at his concession. She slid up his body and gave him a kiss. "I need to get back to my room, but I'll see you at Hertz in the morning, right?"

"Eleven sharp," he agreed, pulling her closer for another kiss. "Then on to Boston."

Jael nodded and pulled on her eufiber. "And on to our vacation," she said. With a final kiss, she walked down to the lobby and left, ignoring the knowing looks of the night staff. She flew back to her room and tumbled into bed for a bit of rest before starting her morning.

July 8, 2008

Samantha got her first thing at eight, and walked her over to the nine am class that she was sitting in on. It was Crimenology 101, and though it was mostly filled with non-majors, it was still a glimpse into her courses here. In particular, she liked the teacher, a man about Charles' age named Eric Branton. He was energetic and engaging, clearly knowledgable and full of enthuasism. Jael found herself drawn into the class, to the point that she answered a question once. Professor Branton seemed to like her, too, taking a few minutes after class to speak with her personally and offer to answer questions.

After that, Samantha took her on one last tour through the gym, showing Jael the equipment and facilities she'd have access to as a student. It was a good gym, and Jael found herself really looking foward to being here next fall. "This is all really nice," Jael told Samantha, who beamed.

"We look forward to having you with us this fall," Samantha replied, offering her hand. After Jael shook it, Samantha dropped her off at the airport. Jael made all the right noises, said goodbye and walked over to the attached Hertz building. Charles was waiting for her; when he saw her, he stood up, looking odd in blue jeans and a casual shirt.

"Hey, honey," he said, kissing her lightly. "I've got the car."

"The convertable?" Jael giggled.

"Yep," he grinned, holding up the keys as proof.

"Me first!" she said, reaching for the ring.

"Nope!" Charles chuckled, snatching them back. He lost some of his good humor at the disappointment on her face. "You can spot me later, promise."

"Sure," Jael said, perking up a little.

"Come on, then - Boston and Harvard are waiting," he grinned as he took her arm and lead her outside.



Cambridge, Massachusetts

Seven hours later, the two novas pulled into Cambridge, stopping at their hotel, the Mary Prentice Inn. To Jael's delight, Charles had arranged for them to have the Romantic package, which meant that they had the full use of the jacuzzi. And as a bonus, they got to sleep together, nestled in one bed together.

In the morning, Charles remained behind at the hotel, while Jael went to Harvard College, meeting an Admissions representative at the quad between Littauer, Belfer and Taubman Halls. Together, the three of them were the John F Kennedy School of Government. Jael wasn't certain about substituting a Government Degree for a Criminology Degree, but everyone she'd talked to had been alright with it.

Patiently, she sat on a bench and watched a few students sit on the grass and talk.

A minute or two before she was supposed to meet the Harvard representative, a young man in a suit pants and a button-up shirt. He was also painfully blond; Jael got the feeling that if she stood next to him, they'd look like Ken and Barbie. "Hi," he said with a white-toothed grin, offering his hand. "I'm Brady."

"Jael," she said, taking his hand.

"I know. I saw a picture of you," he said, then grinned again and held up both his hands, as if in surrender. "That's really not as creepy as it sounded. It's standard for Harvard to show tour guides pictures of the students they take on individual tours."

"Ah, well, that's a relief," Jael chuckled.

"Good, good. We want you to feel comfortable here," Brady said, launching into his sales pitch smoothly. "I know I love it here, and I believe you'll love it too."

"Sure," Jael said, privately sure that she wouldn't. This whole campus felt like a giant stick up the ass. Jael could fill her spine stiffening as she walked around, listening to Brady. And Brady? Seriously?

She saw the buildings of the Government School, as well as a dorm, the gym and some of the administrative buildings. "Nice school you have here," she nodded, glancing around during one of their long walks across a green space between buildings.

"Yeah, I love it," Brady enthused again, the cadance and tone of his voice exactly the same. Jael had decided that he was a robot, or his time at Harvard had turned him into a robot. Either way, he wasn't exactly selling what Jael knew to be a great school.

Still, she was polite. "I can tell," she chuckled at him, resisting the urge to say something shocking and devisive just to fluster him.

The pseudo-insult drifted right over him. "C'mon, there's a summer class that the Director thought you'd like to sit in on," Brady said, guiding her into one of the buildings. "I'll come back for you later, right?"

"Right," Jael said, nodding. She sat through the class, which was somewhat interesting, if a bit outside of her interest. And when she left the building, Brady was waiting for her, eager to show her the cafeteria. Jael suffered through a meal, which was good for mass-produced food. She was just too distracted, eager to get away from this boring person and back with the man that always excited her.

Finally, the torture was over and Jael was free to join Charles. She flew to his hotel and found him waiting for her with a candle-light dinner. "Oh, wow," she murmured when she entered the room, filled with the smell of good food and a warm, soft glow.

"I thought you might enjoy this," he purred as he moved to greet her with a hug and a kiss. "I know you deserve it."

"Maybe," Jael said softly, kissing him back. "But I don't deserve you."

He answered her with another kiss, which lasted much longer than the last one. "Mmm. I want to keep kissing your sweet lips, but then dinner will get cold."

"I just ate," she admitted. "Do we have a microwave in the room?"

He laughed and pulled her close, kissing her again. Dinner had to be reheated, at a much later time.

July 9, 2008

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

In the morning, they checked out and headed for Philadephia. It wasn't that far of a drive, and the couple took their time, enjoying their convertable and the company.

That changed when they arrived. Jael stared out the window, watching the brownstones of Philadelphia roll by the car. So far, she wasn't very impressed; the area was dark and congested to eyes that were used to Phoenix's eternal sunlight and open spaces. It also felt dirty.

"Don't worry," Charles said softly, reaching over to clasp her leg. Jael felt her body warm at his touch. "You don't have to come here if you don't want."

It was like he could read her mind. Well, he could, but Jael didn't think he tapped into her all the time, just to see what she was thinking. It was comforting to think he knew her so well. "Yeah, this place is depressing," she said, glancing at the clock. "Let's just cancel and keep on driving. We could make DC by dark, and have an extra day to sightsee." Her eyes begged him and Charles smiled, giving in.

"Alright, honey, if that's what you want," he said, reaching up to brush his fingers over her cheek.

The look he was giving her was so loving that her heart clenched with love and grief. Jael leaned over and kissed him, then sat back in her seat and wondered why her boyfriend loving her was a sad thing.

Adam's Inn Bed & Breakfast was their stop this time, and the innkeepers gladly moved their reservation up one day after Charles had drawn them aside and explained the situation to them. They had a private room and bath, which the couple made sure to enjoy that evening.

The next three days were spent sight-seeing; Jael had never been to the capitol before, and it had been a long time since Charles had been. Together, they saw the sights and soaked in the aura of power, deception, national pride, secrecy and love that made up the nation's capitol. Their days were filled with walks and sightseeing, while their nights were passionate embraces, whispering and trying to muffle their voices so that they didn't disturb their neighbors.

On the fourth morning, they turned in the car and left for Stanford, California, by airplane.



July 13, 2008

Stanford, California

This was more her speed, Jael decided as she slipped sunglasses over her eyes. The land around here was flat and sparse, with the promise of mountains in the distance. Buildings were well spread out, with plenty of room around them. Jael inhaled, breathing deep.

"You like it here, don't you?" Charles asked.

Jael grinned. "It's more comfortable, certainly. But I maybe need to get away from comfort."

Charles caught her by the waist, his arms and hands hard. "You don't mean that," he said, his voice gruff. "Aren't I comfortable, and aren't I good?"

"Of course I don't mean you, when I talk about that," she said, frowning a little, even as she reached up and smoothed his hair back. "I mean leaving Phoenix, getting away from what I've always known. That's not you, that's environment. I love you."

"Really?" he asked, his dark eyes smoldering with his feelings for her.

"Yes," Jael said, holding his face and meeting his eyes. "I do love you. How could I not?"

That answer saddened him, for some reason. "I feel the same way," he told her, his arms softening into a true embrace. "I love you. I have to."

"Why?" she asked, smiling.

"Because you're perfect," he murmured, kissing her. Taking her by the hand, they caught a taxi to their hotel. Jael was delighted to find out he had made reservations at the Hotel California. While it was nothing like the song, it was still cool to say that she'd stayed there. They had another night together, curled up and happy in each other's arms.

July 14, 2008

In the morning, Jael went to Stanford alone, meeting an energetic young student representative named Paul Wu. Paul was the admissions representative assigned to her, and he had big ears and a small haircut; the two were probably related. He was also a nova.

"So, you're Jael Carver," he said with a charming grin. "Your pictures don't do you justice."

"You're Paul Wu," she said, mocking him as bit as he'd just introduced himself to him. "I'm afraid I've never seen a picture of you before."

"Not a nova watcher?" he asked in a gentle jibe.

"Not unless I'm in front of a mirror," she replied and earned a chuckle from him.

"Alright," he said, his dark eyes twinkling as he indicted a direction. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely." Jael wanted to get this done; after several of these tours in a row, she was more than ready to stop. They were starting to blur a little, to run together in an endless mess of cafeterias, gyms and bricked buildings. Only her times with Charles stood out in stark clarity; not a surprise, considering how important he was to her. He'd always been important, been part of her life, and she couldn't imagine it without him.

"Sooooo, you're not here, are you?" Paul asked in the middle of his rehearsed lecture, his expression and tone all working with his words to make the question adorable rather than annoying.

Jael blushed and giggled. "No, I came with my... a friend, and he's waiting for me," she admitted.

"Well, I know you don't have a public friend, so this must be hush-hush," Paul said, tilting his head to one side. "I guess I should stop trying to make you my new friend."

Jael laughed, low and titilating. "Yes, you should," she said bluntly before reaching out and taking his hand, her grasp friendly. "But thank you. It's a nice compliment."

"You're welcome," Paul said evenly as he pulled his hand away, hiding any disappointment. "Shall we continue?"

"Yes," Jael answered, and he nodded and led her on to the administrative building, continuing with his recitation of facts and figures about Stanford. After a couple of hours of walking around, he left her in a Sociology class which had a justice emphasis. Again, Jael found herself enjoying the curriculm and the teacher; she was drier than Dr. Branton but still good.

Paul met her outside after class and took her to a cafeteria, where they had lunch. "Nova package," Paul said, lifting a sandwich dramatically. "You'll pay the same as every other student. No extra 'Nova burden' costs."

"Nice," Jael said, nodding as she took a bite of chili. It was quite good, and Paul grinned at her reaction.

"Yeah, this is the best cafeteria on campus," he said. "Only the best for you."

Jael quirked an eyebrow. "Really. So I've been getting special treatment?"

"Not yet," Paul said, pausing to drink his milk from the plastic carton. Something about that triggered something for Jael; a sense of shock and delighted embarrassment, as well as a gravelly voice saying, "...you're an interesting person, Jael. Cool, even." Frowning, Jael stared at Paul's Asian features - he should have a scar on his face.

She realized she'd spoken aloud when Paul replied to her statement. "Scar? On my face?" Paul laughed a little uneasily, his dark eyes narrowing a little. "You aren't getting me confused with Kurusu, are you? I mean, my dad was Japanese, but my mom was as blonde as you... Though if you are getting me confused with him, that's a huge compliment. I mean... you and he had that thing in Cuba, right?"

"Thing?" Jael asked, stiffening. Kazuo would have recognized the cold tone in her voice for what it was. Paul was clueless, however.

"Yeah, at the Saratoga," he added. "I mean, no one there said anything, but the contractor sent to clean up the room posted pictures all over the 'net. You know... after you clawed the hell out of the room, the bed, the floor..." He shrugged at her blank expression. "If you wanna deny it, ok, but I've seen the pictures."

"I... pictures?"

"You didn't know about those? The hotel yanked them as fast as they could, but I had a friend send them to me when I found out I'd be giving you the tour." His brown eyes darkened with lust-fulled bravado as he leaned forward and whispered, "You know, part of the reason I'm here is on a research scholarship; my skin can't be cut by any man-made object found yet." He paused, licked his lips and added, "But if you'd like to test out your claws... I'd be willing. You know. In my room. My roommate is gone for the summer."

Jael had blanched as he'd spoken, turning a ghostly pale color. She knew the way she got sometimes with her claws in the middle of sex. She felt sick and she stumbled to her feet, her quantum grace failing her as she tripped past tables and chairs. She was angling for the exit, seeking one thing: Charles. He'd know what to do, to say; he always did.

A hand caught her arm and Jael spun, claws out. Paul flinched, but didn't let go, his face scrunched with concern. "Jael, I said, are you ok?"

"I... no..." she said, wondering where Charles was. Sometimes, he withdrew his attention - why now? She needed him! "Ampwells... at the Cleveland party. I don't remember anything after a point at the party."

"Oh, fuck," Paul muttered, anger mixing with the concern. "Fuck, I'm sorry, I'm such a shit. But I didn't know, I swear." He pulled her into the hallway and into a classroom; she followed numbly, shocked. Her mind carried it the next step and Jael realized that she hadn't given her virginity to her beloved Charles. Tears rose in her eyes, and she choked on a sob. She'd slept with the enemy, an Elite. She'd failed Charles, and that thought made her want to die.

Paul set her in a chair and pulled another around, sitting next to her. "I thought... you were... fuck." He shook his head. "Kuso Yakuza yaro, fucking taking advantage. Jesus, Jael I'm sorry. I'm... can I help?"

"No," Jael said, slowly regaining a simbalance of control, enough to find her phone. She popped off a quick text message to Charles, but there was no answer. Sighing, she put the phone away. "I just need... time, I guess. To incorporate this."

"Well, I could distract you for a bit. Wanna go bowling?" Paul asked, grinning in a carefree manner that Kazuo never could have managed. "We have a couple of lanes in the student center."

Jael looked down at her hands. She really didn't want to be alone, not right now, and until Charles got back to her, she was at loose ends. "How about pool?" she counter-offered.

He grinned, and she knew he'd agree - he'd probably agree to anything at this point. "Come on then," he said. "You can shark me."

Jael wasn't expecting to do so, but she certainly managed nicely. Paul was not terribly coordinated or great at angles, but he'd played a lot more than her. Jael was quick to pick up the physicals of pool but she had a beginner's ability. By the time the phone rang, it was ten o'clock, and Jael was laughing at one of Paul's jokes.

Her laughter was gone the second she realized who was calling. "Oh, thank god," she muttered when she saw the number and she quickly pressed it to her ear. "Hon..." Behind her, Paul's smile fled.

"What's wrong?" Charles asked, his voice tired.

"I... are you ok?" Her concern for him overwieghed her own trauma.

"I had an emergency to take care of - nothing you need worry about, just a favor for a friend," he explained. "I knew you were busy, so I agreed. Wore me out, is all. Why are you so upset?"

"I'll tell you at the hotel," Jael said, glancing at Paul, who smiled ruefully, nodding to himself.

"Ok," Charles said before saying good-bye and letting her go.

"Technically," Paul said softly, "I'm supposed to take you to the dorm." He only waited a beat before adding, "But don't worry about it. Need a ride?"

"No, I can fly," Jael said as she put her stick away, "but thank you. Could... would you tell them something came up, I had to leave early?"

"Right, family emergency," he said, picking up the triangle of balls and working his way toward the counter. "I've got your back, kid."

"Thanks," Jael said to him. "I'll get in contact with you if I come here, ok?"

"Sure," he said, grinning and holding the door for her. "Maybe we can test those claws - in the lab, not the... right. I hope everything works out for you."

"Me, too," Jael said honestly as she rose into the night air.

She flew back to the hotel and let herself in through the window, not caring who saw her. Charles was slumped on the bed, but he sat up quickly when he saw her. Without a word, he opened his arms and she rushed into them, feeling better the second he enclosed her in a hug. "Tell me about it," he whispered, and she poured her heart out to him, explaining what had happened.

He listened, holding her and stroking her hair. When she was finished, he was very quiet for a long time. She let him hold her, but she began to sense something was wrong. She glanced up at him, and and was surprised to see indecisiveness on his face. That was unusual; one of the things she loved about him was that he always knew what to do. "Charles?"

Her whispered word knocked him out of his fugue, and he smiled at her before kissing her forehead with sweet tenderness. "Oh, I just had a long talk with Reynold today, after our little job, and... he gave me some things to think about."

"Like?" she murmured, tucking his hair behind his ear, wishing her touch could make everything better.

"Like why I do what I do for you," he said, his voice pained.

"Shh," Jael said, taking his face in her hands. "I know why you do what you do. You do it because you love me." She kissed him lightly, for comfort more than passion.

His face fell and tears rose in his eyes. "I told him you'd understand. I told him you'd know that I did it all for the right reasons," he sobbed. His arms tightened around her, and it would have been painful had she been not been stronger than a baseline.

She held him while he cried; her strong man needed her, and even though she'd never needed him more, she comforted him. Finally, he fell silent save for the occassional sniffle, and she got up to get him a kleenex. When he'd blown his nose and dried his face, he looked her in the eyes and said, "I can make people forget things. Would you like me to make you forget this?"

Jael bit her lip and looked down at her lap. After a moment, she said, "Burying my head in the sand won't make this go away. I think... I need to deal with it. Maybe even... do you think I should call Kazuo, find out what really happened? Then I can work at putting it behind me."

His brown eyes studied her; he smiled so sadly and so softly. "I think that we should make love, and push these thoughts away, and worry about it in the morning," Charles told her.

And as always, she did as he asked. And as always, he did as he pleased, especially once she was asleep.

July 15, 2008

"Sorry about last night," Paul said sheepishly, his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what go into me."

Jael shrugged, a bit uncomfortable. "Well, you're not the first guy to hit on me," she said softly. "Look, let's not dwell on this, ok? You seem like a nice guy, so let's just try again."

He grinned with relief, his unmarked face making her both sad and angry. He should be beautiful and scarred, and he wasn't, and it pissed her off. Worse, she wasn't sure who to be angry with; after a moment, she felt Charles brush her mind, and her anger fled. She tried to summon it again, because she fucking wanted to be mad but Charles adimantly refused to let her be.

"Ready to continue?" Paul asked, and she nodded numbly. He was the perfect gentleman and last night's rather awkward attempt to seduce her wasn't repeated. As he stopped at the quad, he added, "I hope that my actions last night won't affect your chances of coming here. It is a good school."

"Yeah," Jael agreed with a smile, the sun warm on her hair, "it is. My decision to come or not will have nothing to do with you, either way."

"Good... and ouch," Paul said, grinning to show that he was kidding. He offered his hand. "It was fantastic meeting you."

"The same," Jael replied, giving his hand a firm shake. With a final smile, she rose into the air and flew away. Despite her tendency to line her skirts, she was glad she had chosen jeans today. She liked Paul; he seemed nice, other than his tendency to lose his mind and hit on women inappropriately. There was something about him that was bugging her; something wrong that she couldn't put her finger on. For a second, she considered Charles' offer to let her forget what had happened, but she shook it off. Sure, Paul had behaved badly. Sure, she had over-reacted, too. But they'd deal with it, like adults, and get on with their life. Jael was happy with the choice she'd made; the hard one, but the right one.

Back at the hotel, Charles had packed. "Wow, you're ready to go," she giggled after she'd given him a kiss.

"I'm so excited to be able to show you Vegas," Charles replied, his hands exploring her body through her clothing. "I know you can't gamble, but there are other things we can do."

"Like what?" Jael asked, looping her arms around his neck. What he was doing was enjoyable, but there was something missing.

"It's a surprise," he whispered before giving her a deep kiss. He pulled back suddenly. "What's wrong with you?"

"I... I don't know," Jael asked immediately, the thought of lying never crossing her mind. "I guess I'm still upset with what happened with Paul."

"Did he treat you better today?" Charles asked, pulling her to the bed. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, his favorite way to hold her.

"Completely," Jael said, nodding. "He was very nice and very contrite."

"Good." He patted her on the ass. This time, after a second, Jael felt that sweet sense of completion. She curled into him and felt the high that only his touch could bring. "Oh, god... as much as I want to continue this," he moaned into her ear, "we need to get going. we have a plane to catch."

"Yes, we do," Jael said, regretfully standing up. But as she grabbed her bag, a question persisted: why wasn't Charles angry at Paul? Wouldn't most men get upset if someone had hit on their girlfriend like that?



Las Vegas, Nevada

The flight to Vegas was very short, more like a skip than an actual flight. Once they landed, they headed straight to Treasure Island, where they were staying. Vegas was a beautiful sight; the city glowed with a thousand colors, turning night to day. Jael grinned up at the sights; though she wouldn't be able to gamble yet, she planned to enjoy the next three days.

They had a Tower Suite, which was only one room, but they each had their own bathroom, and there was a dinette set as well as a king-sized bed. The room was done in bold colors that managed to be soothing at the same time; warm browns were accented with deep reds. It was softly lit and very cozy. Jael loved it.

Once they were in their room, Jael shifted her clothing into a bathing suit and robe. "Let's go swimming," she requested.

"I'll join you later," Charles said, slipping his hands under her robe. Jael cut back a moan as he stroked her skin. "I'd like to gamble a bit before I swim."

"Sure," Jael said, hiding her disappointment. She couldn't gamble; she wasn't old enough.

"Thank you," Charles said, kissing her. "I'll walk down with you."

Jealously flickered in her gut, and Jael did something she never did: act petty. "Well, you'll only have yourself to blame if I find some nice young man to flirt with," she said with a psuedo-coy giggle.

Charles' face went red immediately, and she felt his mind push into hers. She gasped and backed up, but there was no where in the room outside of his reach. Pain poured through her brain, hot and scalding; she lost sensation for a moment.

When her senses returned, she was crouched on the floor, with her back against a wall. "Don't even joke about that, Jael," Charles snapped coldly, standing where she'd last seen him. "You are mine, and you will always be mine."

"Yes," Jael agreed quickly, eager to stop the pain.

"Come here," he said, and like every other time he called, she came to him. Her legs were shaking as she walked to his side and took his hand.

He lead her over to the bed and pushed on her shoulders until she sat down. "I want you to stay here until I return, and think about what you did," he said. "I want you to think about ways to make this up to me."

Jael nodded and pulled her feet up onto the bed. And when Charles left, she pressed her face to her knees and did exactly what he'd told her. She thought about how awful it had been for her to say that to him. Wretched and miserable, tears flowing, she started to think about how she was going fix this breach between them.

By the time he came back, flush and heady with the money he'd won, she'd figured it out. Thankfully, her offered blowjob and massage was acceptable, and Charles forgave her before he was done. In fact, he recipicated, and they made love into the small hours of the morning. They slept together, tucked amongst the soft sheets.

July 16, 2008

In the morning, the two novas took off sight-seeing, examining all attractions that Vegas had to offer. In the afternoon, Charles claimed to have a surprise for her, but insisted on taking her out to Bradley Ogden, an incredibly nice restaurant. Oddly, he asked her to cloak herself, to make herself bland and normal. "I don't want to share this with the public," he'd explained. They had dinner, and afterward, he said, "You're about jumping out of your skin with anticipation, aren't you?"

"I am," Jael said, flipping some of her plain-jane blonde hair over her shoulder. "You've got me on pins and needles."

"Odd... that's not where I want you," he chuckled, passing her an envelope.

Jael opened it, frowning when she saw the driver's license, passport and other papers for a Willa Jean Cinders. "What does this mean?"

"It means," Charles said, getting up from his chair only to kneel at her side, "that you can marry me." He produced a ring. "Please, Willa... marry me."

"What?" Jael gasped. "You want me to change my name?"

"No," he said. "It's just for a while, just until enough time has passed that we can be open. And until then, you can be Willa Sakolove, when you need to be. And someday, you'll be Jael Sakolove. So? Will you say yes?"

Jael didn't want to say yes. It seemed too much. Her pause went on for a long moment, and Charles pushed against her a little. She remembered how much this man meant to her, and she broke into a smile. "Yes," she whispered, reaching for the ring. As he slipped it on her finger, she said, "Of course I will."



The went to the Vegas City Hall. It was well after hours, but they knew they'd have to wait in line if they came in the morning. It was much more pleasant to sit down with their back to the retaining wall, hold hands and talk about their plans. They discussed where to live, what kind of house to buy, and how many children to adopt. They giggled over their private jokes and whispered their shared secrets.

July 17, 2008

At about four in the morning, another couple joined them, and they had more company. The four chatted until they became six, when another couple joined them. Slowly, the line formed behind them, growing until it reached around the corner. At eight a.m., Willa Cinders and Charles Sakolove were the first people to be granted a marriage license by the state of Nevada.

They kicked around Las Vegas until five that evening, when they had their appointment at the Golden Spirit Chapel. Jael was wearing a white dress Charles had bought earlier, while Charles was wearing his nice suit. Their vows were short but sweet, as they had agreed to come up with them on the spot. Jael got married under her false name and her bland enhancement.



"What do you think the future holds for us?" Jael whispered as they stared up at the Nevada stars. They had spent the evening having a nice dinner and then had gone for a walk in the desert. Somewhere behind them, Vegas was a brillant blur, but out here, there was nothing but the heavens above them. She was nestled against Charles' body - her husband's body.

"I don't know, sweetie," Charles replied, turning his head so he could look at her. "Why do you ask?"

Jael sighed, struggling to put her feelings into words. "It all seems so fragile. So... easily broken."

"What does?"

"You. Me. Life," Jael murmured. "Like it all could evaporate."

"Hey," he said softly, taking her chin in his hand and turning her head. "Hey, don't worry. You and me - love like we have - it doesn't just go away or do. We're forever, honey. I'm not going away. You're not. And our love will survive anything."

"You promise?"

"I will do anything I must to keep us together," Charles said fiercely. He kissed her, hard and savage. "Anything and everything. We belong together and no one can change that."

July 18, 2008

In the morning, Jael and Charles boarded a plane for a fifteen hour flight, counting the layover in Los Angeles. At the same time, in the late afternoon, Reynold Saint John-Wilds teleported into Tokyo. He was fond of the country, as he was fond places that put a high emphasis on order and control.

He glanced at his watch as he took off up the street, heading for the tea house that the upcoming meeting was set at. Even though events were in motion, Reynold wondered if he was making the right choice. Charles was supposedly his friend, and Reynold had never dreamed he'd betray that. But what Charles was doing was wrong, very wrong, and he wouldn't listen to reason. Just a few days ago, Reynold had thought he'd convinced Charles to step back and let Jael live her life. And then, he'd heard from Jael, on what he'd thought had just been a tour of college campuses.

He pulled out his portable device and checked the message again, still scarce able to believe it. Hey, Reynold, I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Charles and I got married today! It's a secret, but I had to tell you. Don't tell anyone else! I'll see you soon.

No, Charles had gone too far. Reynold couldn't stop him; he owed Charles his life. Part of him knew that he was condemning Charles to death with this route, but for Reynold, the important part was that someone else would be making that call. He couldn't; he was too close. But others could.

Someone, he hoped, like Kazuo. The things he'd heard about the man made him suspect that he'd be interested in this - very interested.

Charles arrived at the tea house and, after a brief discussion with the hostess, was lead to a table to await Kazuo. The retired Elite settled into his chair and adopted a calm demenour as he impatiently waited.

Kazuo still wasn't entirely sure why he was bothering with this guy. He didn't know him, didn't want to know him, and wasn't sure if he was really all that interested in what he had to say. Sure, he claimed to have some kind of "important" information concerning Jael Carver, but so what? As far as he could tell, that weird little girl hadn't so much as thought about him since their little get together a couple of months back. And really, what was wrong with that? Wasn't that the whole point of what they'd done? To have no-strings-attached animalistic sex for hours on end, and then they both walk away without looking back? Seemed like that plan was working great so far, so why mess it up?

But then again, Jael had been pretty cool (even if she was a little psycho-bunny) and he'd hate to hear that things weren't going so great for her. Didn't necassarily mean he'd be willing to help out if they weren't, just meant he wouldn't particularly like it if he heard about it. So, yeah, here's hoping this Reynold cat didn't have any bad news to share with him.
And the other thing was, Kazuo wasn't real keen on meeting up with, or hanging out with, other elites. Most of them either had these archaic codes of honor or strange and twisted ethical systems that made no sense that they insisted on adhering to, or else they were fucking nuts. Either way, it was always a yawn-fest for Kazuo unless they were on a mission or something. This meeting was in a coffee shop. You figure the odds of things getting exciting, alright?

Kazuo stepped through his Supe-su no Tuneru and emerged in front of the entrance to the lame-ass cafe that had been set for the meeting. Oh look, a book-of-the-month club is meeting out front, how fucking awesome! Che...

Tossing his Lucky 7 to the pavement, Kazuo walked through the door, and made his way towards the only gaijin in the place. Be pretty ironic if this was the wrong foreign old guy that he was walking up to, but it'd be pretty funny, too, so whatever. When he got to the table, he stopped, looked the guy over, and then said, "so, you wanna go order somethin' first, or should we just get down to business?"

Reynold watched Kurusu walk into the cafe, unmistakable from his scars and his bad-boy attitude. No one else had that dead eye, and those scars and that faint whiff of smoke and that annoying swagger. Reynold could see why Jael had liked him.

With zero preliminaries, the man said, "So, you wanna go order somethin' first, or should we just get down to business?"

Reynold swallowed his clever remark about the death of civility, knowing that it would be lost on this Elite. A click across the room caught Reynold's attention. Turning, he saw an older Japanese woman lighting up a cigarette. He was sure that this cafe was non-smoking; he even checked the door to make sure that he had seen the sign.

Ignoring the woman with effort, he glanced at Kurusu again. "I rather thought we could start," Reynold said in his clipped, asture voice. "This shouldn't take long, and I'm sure that neither of us wishes to be here at this moment. In fact, I'll start with a very easy question: when you and Jael met in Cleveland, was she drunk, drinking or smelling of alcohol?"

The smell of smoke assaulted him. He glanced to see that more women were smoking. He glanced at the counter, where the staff appeared to be ignoring them. With a sigh, he realized that no one was going to be doing anything about the rude women. "Hold that thought," he said, standing. "I need to have a chat with someone."

"I'm sure that neither of us wishes to be here at this moment"? Wow, grandpa, thought Kazuo, you a mind-reader, too? Cos you sure took the words right outta my mouth, that's for sure!

Kazuo could already tell he was gonna just love Mister Old, Boring, and Insightful-as-a-$5-Fortune-Teller. Shit! this was gonna be a long day, he could already tell....

Kazuo started to answer Reynold's question, "Are you kidding? That thing was a fuckin' nursery school, man! You'd have a better chance of findin' some booze atta-", but then he was cut off.
What the hell?! First this guy drags him all the way out here (nevermind that he just warped himself here, and it took him all of three seconds), then he starts hitting him with the painfully obvious, and now he's interrupting him?! Kazuo enjoyed pointless conversations as much as he enjoyed finding a coterie of towel-clad old ladies at the local onsen, which might be alright, except that he fucking hated it when the onsen was filled up with saggy old ladies.

Speaking of which... Kazuo's good eye grew round as he happened to look in the direction of the table of older ladies with their lit ciggs, and realized where his new chum was heading (his dead eye didn't even rouse itself, it had better things to do than worry about Kazuo's emotional state, the idiot had gotten it thrashed afterall, so why should it care?). Oh, tell me this fucking gaijin isn't about to go pick a fight with any goddamn oh-ba sans....

"H-hey, man," Kazuo uncharacteristically stammered, "you don't wanna go over there, alright? Trust me, you need to just let it go."

Reynold looked from Kazuo to the tiny of ladies back to Kazuo. "It'll just be a moment," he said patiently, wondering what the hell was wrong with the Elite now. Just as temperamental and prone to emotional fits as she is, Reynold sighed to himself as he started to wind his way across the room. He didn't remember that Jael had a reason for her changes in mood, and that perhaps Kazuo similarly had reasons for his sudden uncharacteristic concern. Perhaps Reynold did deserve what he was about to get, though even Kazuo wouldn't wish the oh-ba sans on his worst enemy.

It was best to start respectful; he could get impolite later. But he shouldn't need to become rude, not with these sweet old ladies. And sweet they looked, despite their cigarettes and the smoke they were spewing. The tallest of them came no higher than Reynold's collarbone, and he was not a tall man. He stopped at their edge of their table and gave a small bow. "Excuse me, ladies," Reynold said in Japanese and in his most polite tone. The women looked up at him, and he had the eerie sensation he'd just walked into a battlefield. "I am sorry to interrupt, but this is a non-smoking establishment. I respectfully ask you to put out your cigarettes."

The women exchanged a look around the table, their eyes darting and meeting, a silent communication passing between them. "No," said the smallest of them, a tiny wrinkled dwarf-woman who had white hair and glittering black eyes behind massive glass frames. "Go away."

Ok. Time to be a little ruder. "Madame," Reynold said, placing his hand on the back of a chair in a manner designed to make her feel like he was closing in on her, "I understand that you are enjoying your wretched death-causing cancer-sticks, but the other patrons do not enjoy being subjected to the venomous chemicals you are belching forth."

"I don't care," the spokeswoman said. "Get out of my face."

"Now, look here-" Reynold's building tirade was cut off when she snatched up her purse and slammed it on his hand. It didn't hurt, but it had caught him completely by surprise. A second later, the crone to his right swung her purse with an accuracy belied by her old age, catching him in the arm. His superior reflexes were superior only when he used them, and he was so surprised that one even leaned over the table and took a swing at him with her umbrella before he jumped back.

Angry now, Reynold backed away from the table, lost as to what to do next. Could he have physically overwhelmed the women, ripping away their cigarettes? Sure he could have, and been a nova bully in the process. That cold, dark part of him that made it easy to understand Jael thought about killing the whole bunch of them, but Reynold rejected that idea. He wasn't that man, not anymore. So he took the only option available: retreat.

"Harridans," he mumbled as he sank back into his seat, shaking his head. Around the women, the cloud of smoke was getting thicker. He glanced at Kazuo, visibly recovering his dignity. Without pause, or regard to any amusement Kazuo might have been displaying, he picked up where he'd left off. "So, you were saying: there was no alcohol at the party? Did she hit her head at any time, or did she drink later? And let me be clear: if you did let her drink, I don't care. I'm just trying to reconstruct what happened to her that day."

Kazuo felt like a man who, standing at the intersection of two roads, has just realized that there are two cars that are on a collision coarse with each other, and that only he knows it. Now, Kazuo could only watch with the same combination of trepidation and giddy excitement that man on the intersection would have felt, wondering who will walk away from this alive. The odds were not stacked in Reynold's favor.

Older women, or oh-ba sans, as they were referred to in Japanese, occupy a place all their own within the social structure of that country. Only bands of roving thugs and members of the Yakuza are more feared by the general populace than a pack of irritable oh-ba sans - and some say the thugs are losing their edge these days. These terrible harpies think nothing of such tactics as threats, coercion, or even physical violence, and worse still, unlike typical thugs, these oh-ba sans don't care who sees. Why, just the other day, Kazuo witnessed some poor sarariman being soundly beaten with no less than three oversized handbags - being weilded by their aged owners, of course - right out on the street! A police car went cruising right on past, and Kazuo could see - he could actually watch - as both officers slunk down in their seats, the better to avoid witnessing an act of abuse they knew they were helpless to stop. As far as Kazuo, who dealt on an almost daily basis with thugs and Yaks, was concerned, these ladies were a real menace, and he was far more terrified of the least of them than he was of Nakamura-san himself. Okay, maybe that was an exageration - but still, they were pretty scary! Kazuo had been saying for a long time now - to anyone who would listen - that someone needed to do something about these fiends!

That someone sure as hell wasn't gonna be him, though, that's for sure. He valued his health, and his manhood, far too much....

Kazuo watched Reynold slink back to his table, trying to hold onto dignity he no longer had. It was tempting to smirk at him and chuckle at his expense, but somehow it just didn’t seem right. This was an “us against them” kind of situation, and tactically, he felt it best to hedge his bets and not make enemies right now. Who knew when the oh-ba sans might come looking for another easy win. Best to keep Reynold on his good side; safety in numbers, and all that.
“Hey, thanks Pops, that’s a real load off, knowing I don’t gotta worry ‘bout yer opinion anymore. Cos I gotta say, that was starting to concern me,” said Kazuo, with what he felt was great tact. “No, she wasn’t drinkin’, or at least not that I saw, and I definitely didn’t see any Amp Wells or Zanshin or anything else that would actually get a nova drunk, yunno? As for her head? I dunno, I she mighta’ bumped it while we were at that hotel, but if she did, I didn’t notice, so it couldn’t have been that hard of a bump, now could it?”

"I'm not your father; don't call me 'Pops'," Reynold said, but his voice was thoughtful. Clearly, the remark had been reflexsive. It confirmed his own theory, solidified it, not that he needed proof. Not anymore. He'd long since acknowledged it to his own satisfaction.

But could he prove it to another?

"Bear with me a moment, please," Reynold said, pulling out his small computer. "I have some things to show you." He opened the file, turned the screen so that only the two of them could see and started in his rough, dry voice, "This man is Dr. Charles Sakolove. He erupted sometime in 2000 as a mentalist. One of his specialities is conditioning. He is a consultant for Devries, which means that he's called in off the books when they need his talents. When he's not doing that, he's a child psychologist in Phoenix, Arizona, as he was before his eruption.

"In 1996, he started treating a six-year-old girl. He was amazed to discover that this child was a true sociopath. That's very rare to have that without certain environmental factors and rarer still for it to happen to a female. He wrote several papers about this child, whom he called Jean in those papers.

"In 2000, not long after his employment by Devries, he became fascinated by a young man with autism. Using his mental abilities, he was able to draw this boy out of his fugue state, a feat that even modern medicine couldn't accomplish. Further, he was able to socialize this young man. Again, more papers, more fame. But he couldn't leave it alone. He pushed this young man to do more with his life, to become a big success. When conventional persuasion didnt' work, he turned to his mental skills. In 2002, the young man killed himself. His suicide note referenced feeling like a puppet, and being out of control of his life.

"Meanwhile, his attempts to fix Jean weren't working very well. He realized that fixing her wasn't going to work, not without destroying her personality completely. He began to condition her, convincing her to turn her talents toward justice. He helped her learn how to kill and evade detection, and pointed her toward criminals, please whom he knew were guilty of their crimes. That worked well; she had a focus and was bettering society.

Her first kill was against a pedophile. She was seventeen. He arranged for the pedophile to grab her instead of his planned target. The idea was that she was to take him by surprise and kill him. Instead, he nearly killed her, and she erupted. I'm sure by now you've guessed who the girl is."

Reynold shifted slightly in his chair. "I know all this because when he asked me to mentor her, he told me this. It seemed that she'd gotten herself in a tangle with Vile Bill and got seriously injured. I was supposed to teach her how to be better at what she does. But I began to suspect that something was wrong; she had wild mood swings and odd overcorrections in her mannerisms. She reacted to anything Charles said as if it were gospel.

"It was after both confessed to being lovers that I began to notice holes in her memory. For starters, she doesn't remember most of the party in Cleveland. And she certainly doesn't remember leaving it with you, or anything to do with you."

Kazuo yawned. This guy was about as interesting as wet paint. No, worse. At least with wet paint you could derive some microscopic quantity of entertainment from watching it dry. This guy was more like dry paint; there just wasn't anything you could do except stare at it, and wish you were somewhere else.

Kazuo realized that Reynold was talking again. What the fuck was this guy going on about anyway? Whatever it was, it sure sounded boring...

It had to be admitted that, perhaps, Kazuo could have put a little more effort into listening to Reynold as he spoke, but he didn't, so this is what he heard:
It was at this point that Kazuo pulled himself out of a fugue state, and actually started listening to what Reynold had to say. It would be something of a stretch to say that Kazuo felt any significant degree of moral outrage over the revelation that some geeky white guy was messing up children's heads over in another country somewhere, but he did feel some degree of vindication for holding to the belief that the world was a fucked-up place, and he'd be more than happy to take out his frustration over that fact on ol' geek-boy, if that's what Reynold was building up to.

So for the rest of Reynold's diatribe, Kazuo actually managed to listen (more or less) carefully throughout.
Kazuo rubbed the stubble on his chin while considering Reynold's story. "Huh," he said. "Too bad for her, then. It's a crime to take memories like those away," he added, with a smirk.
Under his breath, he muttered, "especially after that enormous fucking repair bill for all the damage she caused..."

Kazuo turned away from his own ruminations, and turned back to Reynold, eyeing him (literally) with visible suspicion. "So why tell me all this, huh Pops? You're a big boy, why not 'take care' of this little problem yourself, eh? I mean, I appreciate the 411 an' all, but why bother bringing me into this adorable little picture in the first place, huh? What're you leaving out of this story?"
Kazuo sat back in his chair, and waited for a response.

Reynold had assumed that he wouldn't have to explain to Kazuo why a 40-something year old mentalist abusing an eighteen-year-old girl was bad. At the very least, he thought he'd be more upset about the removal of the memories of his time with Jael. He bit back a retort about how little it must have meant, but he was getting the feeling that Jael didn't matter to the Elite. This was turning into a rapid waste of time.

Reynold was a smart man with speed and strength that didn't match his frame, but social manipulation was beyond his ken. He also hadn't thought that Kazuo might not have any kind of feeling for the girl, which was pretty much the opposite of how Reynold worked. He spent hours thinking about what he decorated his house with; quick sexual encounters with no emotional attachments were not something he was used to.

But that didn't mean that he didn't understand that it sometimes happened. "I'm sure that it seems as though I could do something, but given how little regard Charles shows for a woman he's supposedly completely in love with, I have no reason to believe he hasn't implanted something in me, something to stop me from acting against him." Reynold actually suspected this could be possible, though he was far from sure. But he believed that Charles was capable of it. "He's never met you, though, so it'd be hard to defend against that. Besides, wouldn't you have acted in April, were you doing to move against him? No, you'd be a complete surprise.

"But in truth, I was hoping that you could through to Jael," Reynold said. "I've had no luck breaching Charles' defenses in her mind, and I know that you did so once." He tapped the keypad, and an image of Jael buying a book flashed on the screen; it was clearly from a security camera in a bookstore. "She's buying a copy of Learn Japanese in a Month," Reynold said, "so y