ABGuye's Art & Writings

A call for answers!

2007-11-04T00:49:46Z

okay, I can find nowhere on the internet (by the searches I have tried) to find a definitive list of the "types" of gay men (aka. bears, otters, wolves, twinks, chicken, hunk, troll, polar bears, muscle bears, leathermen, etc.). I also can not find a codified list of the "signals" used for cruising for sex.

If you know any of this stuff, drop a response with the info here for me so I can make a resource for all those less educated individuals who might want this kind of data!

(this is also just a fun bit of research I can use in stories later)

Awakenings - Chapter 06

2007-11-02T02:13:47Z

"I'm not so sure about this," I commented as Patrick descended the steps of the Kings Row PYRC to greet me.

"I was nervous my first few meetings also, Jason, but you're doing a great service," he assured me as we shook hands.

"Yeah," I breathed, looking at the front doors like the gates of the Zig in Bricks.

"The Paragon Youth Recreation Center Outreach Programs are the last safe place our kids have before they end up on the streets." Patrick put his hand on my shoulder as we started up the steps.

"Yeah," I said again, with no more enthusiasm than before.

Patrick raised an eyebrow at me as we got to the doors.

I shrugged. "I don't know what kind of example I am, you know? I did time on the streets, I was in the gangs, I did shit I'm not proud of." I took a breath. "And I'm not so sure I'm any better a person now than I was then."

Patrick pulled open the doors. "That's because you weren't a 'bad person' then, Jason. We all make mistakes. We all do things we aren't proud of. Hell, I've done more than most -- probably a lot more than you." He grinned at my doubtful glance. "I was out there longer than you were."

I huffed, but didn't argue.

"This is like an AA meeting. Some people are here trying to get off the streets, and some are here because their loved ones are on the streets. What we all have in common, you, me, and everyone in that room, is that our lives have been touched by the gangs. Most are trying to get their lives back."

"So this is kind of a family vocation, huh?" I asked, "Helping lost souls?"

Patrick laughed. "I'm not so sure about people's souls; that's Amanda's shtick." He snapped his fingers, allowing blue-white flame to flicker above them. "If anything, I'm the gate keeper to someplace no one wants to visit."

"Yeah, yeah," I replied, unimpressed. I spent so much time working with Blaize that pyrokinesis didn't even surprise me any longer. "So, what do I say to them?"

"Just be honest, as open as you're comfortable being, and know that you don't have to be perfect." We got to the door beyond which I knew there was no return.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I mumbled as Patrick put his hand on the knob.

"I can," Patrick affirmed, smiling at me as I looked at him. "Amanda believes in you, and though it took me years to admit it, she's hardly ever wrong."

"Let's hope I'm not the exception to the rule," I retorted, but there wasn't any conviction in it. Patrick was one of the most sincere people I'd met since gaining my abilities. He was who he claimed to be and believed everything he said.

"How'd it go yesterday?" Janet asked as she settled down on the stool beside me.

I nursed my latte and shrugged. "It went fine."

Jonathan chuckled as he finished drying a mug. "Don't mind him; he's just sulking."

I frowned at him. "No comments from the peanut gallery."

"Oh boy," Janet groaned as she rolled her eyes. "I'll need chocolate for this."

"For what?" I scowled.

"To fortify me to sit through your piss and vinegar bath," she retorted.

I mumbled a few choice words under my breath and sipped my coffee again.

She waited until she had one of Jonathan's magic mixtures of milk and chocolate before saying anything more. "You are the sulkiest guy I know," she observed between sips, "save for Lenny... though he's more just depressed than sulky."

"Hell, if I leaked darkness like other people perspire, I'd be depressed too," I replied. "Poor guy." I took another sip of my coffee. "And I don't sulk."

Jonathan snorted, but wandered away without acknowledging my baleful glare.

"Uh huh," Janet replied in a neutral tone, "Does Dr. Perrin buy that crap?"

"She's a telepath, what do you think?"

Janet shrugged. "I think you're feeling sorry for yourself. You've come face to face with someone who went a lot further down the rabbit hole than you did and has made something of his life. He's well adjusted, happy, and is making the world a better place without having to use his powers."

"He isn't allowed to use his powers," I corrected, "that's part of the terms of his probation."

"Regardless," Janet ignored me, "he's accepted who he was and knows who he is. He's turned his mistakes into tools to help others." She sipped her chocolate again. "What I think is that you're worried you don’t measure up."

I glared at her, but didn't say anything. I was out of excuses and out of coffee too.

"I'll give you a hint," she said, before she leaned over and kissed my cheek, whispering, "You're just as much a man as Patrick, or Urioch, or Brawler. Stop trying to measure yourself to some bullshit, macho standards. Be you, Jason, and let yourself be the person the rest of us see."

I blushed, and grinned into my coffee cup. It was hard to sit there and know, really know, that people meant what they said - especially when it was something positive about me. I still wasn't used to thinking of myself that way.

"Thanks, Janet."

"You're welcome."

Amanda was never late. She was probably the most time obsessed person I'd ever known. I looked back at the desk nurse, who gave me a sympathetic smile but said nothing about the delay. About ten minutes after our appointment was supposed to start, Amanda came rolling out of the elevators. "I'm sorry, Jason. I should have rescheduled our session." She looked exhausted and I could feel the worry that she was keeping from her features and voice.

"Sure, no problem."

She shook her head. "Come on into my office. I'm here now so we might as well have our weekly talk."

I shut the door as she wheeled to her desk and pulled off her gloves. "Are you okay?"

Amanda looked at me, and I felt her shields go up. We studied each other for a moment, and she sighed. "No, actually, I'm not."

"We can reschedule. I don't mind." I wasn't hedging out of my session. I liked my sessions with Amanda. I didn't like the feeling I was getting from her. She was really upset. I'd never felt her so wound up and out of sorts.

Taking a deep breath, Amanda nodded. "You're probably right. I should have canceled everything for today." Amanda's cell went off, and she answered it. The wave of emotion that hit me almost knocked me down. She gripped the phone, tears pooling in her eyes as she found her voice. "I'll be right there."

I looked at her, not knowing if I should leave or stay. Amanda wasn't just my shrink, she was a friend. "Anything I can do?"

Amanda looked at me, shutting off her phone. She shook her head. "No. Thanks. I have to get back over to Chiron Medical." She was holding it together by a thread. "I need to get to Patrick."

"Okay." I stepped back as she slid back on her gloves. Chiron was over in Atlas Park. It would take her a while to get there. Being a crip was a pain. "I could get you there faster."

Amanda looked at me for a moment. "You sure?"

I nodded. "Soon as we're outside, I'll just fly you and the chair over to the tram and then from the tram to Chiron once we get to Atlas."

"You aren't supposed to use your powers without supervision," she objected without conviction.

We got outside and I gripped her chair, lifting us into the air. My evening flights with Urioch were paying off. I could fly a hell of a lot faster than I used to. "You're my shrink; I'd say you have the authority to supervise the use of my powers."

She didn't try to object again. "Thanks Jason."

We got to Chiron in under a half hour, which was a miracle considering the trams were full with morning commuters. There was a hell of a lot of commotion as we landed. The emergency entrance doors looked scorched. There was some smoking rising from the foyer. Amanda flagged down one of the ER nurses trying to catch her breath. "Rebecca, what happened?"

"I'm sorry, Amanda," she explained between gasps of fresh air, " We tried to keep him calm, but he wouldn't wait for you to get here. He demanded to know what was going on."

"Oh no." Amanda looked from the nurse to the door. "What idiot told him?"

"Dr. Kensington." Rebecca shook her head. "We warned him that we had to keep Patrick in the dark and calm until you arrived, but he said that the man had a right to know." She cringed. "Dr. Kensington is lucky to be alive. It was horrible. Flames erupted everywhere."

"Was anyone else hurt?" Amanda kept hunting for clues as she talked. Her eyes were taking in everything, like some kind of detective.

She shook her head. "Only a few minor burns, some smoke inhalation. Nothing serious. The sprinklers came on almost instantly. More property damage than anything else."

"Where is Patrick?"

"I don't know. He ran from ER surrounded in flame, screaming he was going to kill them."

I blinked, looking at Amanda as she dropped her face in her hands. "Kill who?"

Amanda looked up at me, the tears finally falling. "The Vahzalok. They tried to harvest Kim along with a group of parents bringing their kids back from a play." Amanda looked like she was going to be sick. "Apparently children aren't good for body parts, maybe because they're too small. Jessica and Ken are with Kim's parents." I knew what happened to people who were caught by Vahzalok. Dissected alive for your body parts was a gruesome way to go. "She'd been in emergency surgery since last night. I didn't get many details, but according to the heroes who fought off the Mortificators and Reapers, the Vahz had all but cut her apart by the time they got there."

"Is Pat powerful enough to take on Vahzalok?" I knew he was more powerful than Blaize was. They'd had a good time tossing about fire balls the previous week during my birthday party.

"With a team, sure, but Kim was his world. He's out there, not thinking clearly, hunting alone."

And he was fucking up the conditions of his parole. His kids wouldn't lose one parent they'd lose both, because even if Patrick was stopped before the Vahz could take him down, he'd be sent back to the Zig for sure.

Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. "Can you track him?" Amanda was a telepath. I had no idea what her range was.

Amanda's brows furrowed. "Maybe, but Patrick can move fast."

"So can I," I replied while hefting us into the air. "Which way?"

Closing her eyes, Amanda concentrated for a minute, and then pointed. "That way."

We soared into the street and up. I tried not to think about how much trouble I was going to get into for what I was doing. For once I wished I had a way to call for back up. The God Damn rules! I spent my time protecting playgrounds and work sites while there were people dying out there. As we soared toward the Argosy Industrial District, I saw a trail of smoke rising near the warehouses. "Smoke signals," I pointed as I changed our heading.

We slowed over the back fences, noting that there was a melted area about the size of a person. Near some smoldering crates were burnt corpses. The smell of roasted flesh left me gagging. Amanda groaned, "Patrick, what are you doing?" She closed her eyes and I could feel her sending. She must have been trying to reach Patrick, but she opened her eyes, frustrated. "That way."

It felt like we were chasing a rabid rat in a maze. We found other burnt areas, two corpses, and a place where it looked like an explosion had gone off. There were sirens in the distance, EMS, fire rescue and police. Maybe heroes had been called in as well. We followed Amanda's feeling and the occasional burnt trail, to the barrier walls. Where there should have been a solid grate to prevent access to the sewer system, there was only slagged metal. I set Amanda and chair down as we looked at the maw into the darkness. "God. I hate the sewers." I'd had my fill of climbing around the old sewer systems while in the Skulls.

"We can't go in there, Jason. No lights. No maps." Amanda stared helplessly at the melted grate.

"You have your cell?" I looked into the darkness beyond the grate as she fished in her purse.

"Yes." She held it up.

"Call for help. Tell them where you are, or maybe they can use the communication grid to locate you." I didn't trust that the metal wouldn't burn me. Though not glowing, I could feel the heat from the bars. He hadn't been through there very long ago. "I'll see if I can find him."

"Jason, that's insane."

I stared back at her, raked my hand like a claw at the grate, and ripped it from the cement with my thoughts. Yeah, I was a lot more powerful than I had been in the hospital. "I'll be careful. Just get someone here fast!"

Grabbing her at belt, she pulled off a little box and threw it to me. "Take my beeper. It has a GPS signal in it. All Emergency Services people had to have them when we were searching for survivors after the war. I'm still in the EMS system."

Snapping the thing onto the waist of my jeans, I turned to the entrance. "You're the best, Amanda."

"Jason?" I looked back at her. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Me?" I leapt into the darkness before she could give me what was certain to be a "yes you" look. I never did anything stupid. Thoughtless, impetuous, and arrogant maybe, but I was never stupid. Hah!

Dark. In addition to the smell, the dampness, the distracting sounds of dripping water and scurrying little things I probably didn't want to see, it was just too damn dark. I tacked another advantage or two to psycho kinesis as I floated slowly through the tunnels. I wasn't walking in shit filled water, and with my power pressing against the walls I didn't bump into anything. Though it was disgusting, I followed Patrick's trail by using my nose. I dropped to a lower level of the sewer system into a larger space. The room smelled of burnt hair, dung and piss. There were even some smoldering remains that gave off just enough light to cast ghoulish shadows on the walls. I was getting close. Even zombie flesh didn't burn very long. Of course, the explosion that echoed from a tunnel to my left was a much better clue. Soaring up and into the tunnel, I could see fire light and green luminance in the distance.

Patrick yelled curses which I could barely hear over the roar of flames, the explosions, and the unearthly sound of an Edilon's power. After one massive explosion of fire, the battle seemed to end. I paused at the opening to the next chamber and looked in. There were charred corpses everywhere. At the far side of the chamber was the slightly glowing, burnt body of an Edilon. This one had been a man. A bit further away, bone-butchers, most of them burnt, were hacking and cursing. Another small burst of flame erupted from the group, sending them tumbling back, some rolling in the waste water to douse the flames. I retched.

Patrick struggled to get to his feet as I gripped the wall, trying not to throw up again. He looked like a raw side of beef. Hacked up, his left arm cut to the bone at the shoulder and hanging limp, and his other arm was missing most of his hand; he looked like the living dead. The fire erupting from his eyes faded to flickers of light as he slumped against the wall. He wasn't going to make it.

The butchers, Urioch had called them Reapers, closed in again. I yelled as I grabbed as many as I could and threw them aside. I soared into the room, hoping not to hit anything in the limited and diminishing light. The fuckers had a few lanterns that had been scattered in the battle and the wavering shadows were hell on my depth perception. I landed beside Patrick, trying not to slip on the slime and blood that were all over the stones. His eyes turned up, dazed, and met mine. "I tried..."

The only warning I had was the sudden change in Patrick's expression. His eyes focused passed me, and I dropped to my knees as a massive fist smashed into the wall where my head had been. I threw my will back, grabbing anything behind me, and thrust as hard as I could. There was a groaned hiss of anger from the thing I sent tumbling away. I spun and held my breath. The thing looked kind of like the latest horror movie version of Frankenstein, but a hell of a lot bigger. If someone took a stitched up zombie, pumped it up on steroids and sent it to the gym for a year, that might have created the thing that was getting up and lumbering back toward me. I waved again, holding it back with my strength. The others were closing in as well. Maybe two normal zombies, if you could call any patchwork thing "normal", and four Reapers were still able to move. I extended my other hand, wrapped my will about the others, and held them all. It was all I could think to do. They weren't heavy. With all my training, I could hold them for a long time. At least, that was what I hoped.

"Jason..." Patrick pointed weakly with the remains of his hand at the huge zombie that was straining against my hold. "Abomination..."

I looked at the thing as it seemed to swell, taking in a deep breath, and then it vomited. The shit erupted from it as it exhaled; spraying us in a greenish, burning slime that felt like it was eating it's way through my flesh. I screamed, blocking most of the stuff with my power, but I couldn't stop it all. I'd never been able to figure out how to hold liquids. I rolled in the water, hoping it would dilute the acid, or whatever the shit was that it spit on me. It worked, kind of. The burning dulled, but didn't stop. I looked up, my vision blurred by pain, as the behemoth hefted me into the air and threw me against the wall. This time I was the one making the sickening crunching sounds. I couldn't even focus. I just whimpered as I slid down the wall and into the muck. I was going to die.

"More parts," the Reaper gloated as he raised a demented looking cleaver above me. I closed my eyes and counted out my last moments, wishing I'd done so many things differently. The blow never came.

The room resonated with a soft, humming tone that was like a bell or tuning fork being struck. I snapped open my eyes. Soft, silver white light sparkled in the air, swirling and dancing about the Reapers and Cadavers. I could barely make out a figure at the far end of the room, her hands extended, while another figure rose up behind her like a blue-white star. The Reaper that stood, enthralled by whatever had filled the room, blew apart as a blue white blast scattered his remains. I recognized the light and the sound of Urioch's energy bolts as he unleashed blue death upon the remaining Vahzalok. I just stared, unable to say anything, as Magdalene crossed the room, the silver light dissipating as she knelt beside me. "We're here, Jason. Hold on."

I wanted to hold on, I really did, but I just couldn't. I felt my heart hiccup. It didn't' hurt. It was just a little sensation before everything started to relax. I couldn't see Magdalene any longer. My vision went a kind of white and silver before going black.

2000 words a day!

2007-11-01T19:48:30Z

395 / 50,000

Yes, I know this is madness!
*runs off, screaming and rending my hair, to write some more!*

And so it Begins!

2007-11-01T18:28:14Z

I've already done two NaNo Novels in the past 2 years, so I really don't feel like I need to prove that I can complete yet another "new story". Instead, I'm going to use my month to finish or continue in process works. I may possibly start some new stuff, but I have so many series and stories that need to be moved along that I don't feel compelled to add more to the "in process" pile.

Following mallie_kite's example, I'm going to list out how I'm approaching this nano.

1) TorchSong: I only have 3-5 more chapters to go before this novel is done... maybe 25,000 words tops. This is my EPIC... Robert Jordan has nothing on me when it comes to verbosity! At present that little tale is over 200,000 words and climbing!

2) Awakenings: I have so many edits and additions to do to my most recent fan-fiction that I just have to put a few more chapters out. Hell, there isn't any SEX until like chapter 8... and I've only posted the first 5! My readers must really think I'm slacking off at this point! *snort*

3) Life Light: One of my few collaborative efforts. My co-author intends to give me back chapters to continue on our novel... if she does, then I'll do my best to get something back to her before the end of the month.

4) the Conquered: I haven't posted a new chapter on this epic collaboration, continuing series story, since early this year (February I think). It is time for another installment!

If those four little projects don't net me at least 50,000 words, I'll start on my erotic-horror short story I plan to submit for an gay-horror anthology.

Yes, I'm at it again!

2007-10-31T02:39:04Z

In two days I once again delve into the madness known as NANOWRIMO!

This is total insanity, as Real Life is not presently set such that I have much time for writing, but I have to get back in the saddle somehow!

Wish me Luck!

Torch Song - Chapter 32

2007-06-28T20:29:14Z

I looked in the mirror as the last of my fire receded from my face and smiled; it was a tired smile, but my eyes looked bright and alert. "There," I declared, turning around for inspection. "How do I look?"

Pars turned away from his mirror and leaned in to examine my efforts. He scrutinized my face, coming ever closer until his lips brushed mine. "Beautiful," he murmured as he pulled back.

"You're going to leave color on my lips," I objected, with no conviction. "Not to mention; you're ruining your own efforts."

He rolled his eyes. "There is no one down there I need to impress."

"Stubborn, as always," I retorted, turning back to the mirror to remove the color from my lips. "Do you intend to allow that swaggering peacock cousin of yours see you as anything less than radiant?"

"He only sees what he wants to see," Pars replied as he turned back to his reflection and touched up his lip color. "There is only one person's opinion that matters to me, and she approves of me unshorn sheep-like or not."

I grinned. "I love you unshorn or well groomed, but I will admit that your groomed appearance is most pleasing to me."

Pars closed in upon his reflection, tilting his head so that the light illuminated the shadows around his eyes, and frowned. "No amount of makeup will fix this luggage," he complained. "Unlike my mistress fair, I have no fire to bring the life back to my eyes and cheeks."

I straightened up and raised an eyebrow at a flicker of memory that was not my own. "And who says you do not?" I asked as I walked over to him. "You, sir, have never asked."

Pars blinked. "I didn't know it was an option."

I lifted my hands, holding my palms close to his face. My fire rose, softly filling the space between my hands and his face, and gently sank into him. Pars closed his eyes; trusting me not to ruin him. When I pulled my hands away, his complexion looked brighter; it was also clear of any makeup. "Of course, now you must repeat your efforts."

Pars examined his reflection again. "Improving upon a clear and bright foundation is simple," he commented as he did some minor and rapid work upon his face. Setting down his brushes, he smiled at me. "Less is more."

"I agree," I complimented him as I held up his jacket, "and surely that blond king will have on twice as much makeup in hopes of sparkling brighter than everyone else." I slid his jacket over his shoulders and smoothed down the back as he buttoned the front. "And save possibly for Lord Trendal, no one shall look more striking than my betrothed."

Pars raised an eyebrow at me. "You'd leave me for my father?"

"Goddess no," I assured him, "but you were cut from the same stone, so I must concede him the right of prior magnificence."

Pars grinned. "You're laying it on thick, madam."

I raised my eyebrows as I smiled. "Flattery works, especially when it is sincere."

"And you plan to flatter every man but my cousin don't you." Pars was too quick to discover my schemes.

I checked myself one last time before heading for the door. "Am I petty to admit I do not like him?"

"No," he replied as we stepped into the hall. "You would be petty if you slighted him because of it."

I sighed. "Very well; if he looks well I shall tell him so."

"A most gracious concession," Pars said with no little humor.

I heard Laromind's voice rising in song as we approached the stairs. "Are we ready for this?"

Pars smiled. "In looks I believe Laromind will find himself in good company with Deolin, and as far as musical accomplishment, I think but an innocent suggestion of a duet with Lord Jornam will pull all attention from our golden king."

I lifted an eyebrow at Pars as we descended the stairs. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't I?" he asked; his expression inscrutable.

"You can be a vicious little king when you choose to be," I replied quietly as we approached the door.

"Vicious yes; never little."

I rolled my eyes. "We'll discuss your ego, in all its representations, at some other time."

Pars paused at the door listened. "The song is almost over." We waited until the applause had stilled before Pars pushed open the door. His smile rose like the morning sun. "I hope our tardiness was not an inconvenience."

I scanned the room quickly. Wen and Jornam sat nearest the piano. Iramali and Deolin sat upon the couch. Trendal stood at the service, preparing a drink. Iragalys stood near the windows, her expression unreadable. Harlae and Rondel stood near the hearth. Laromind, as expected, sat at the piano. "It is wonderful to see you again," I said to the room in general.

Wen, Jornam, Iramali and Deolin rose as we entered.

"Pars, Janel," Wen greeted us with unmasked delight, "we despaired that your long efforts in the towers would deprive us of your company." She approached, hugging her nephew and then myself. "You look glorious." She looked back at Jornam. "Do they not my dear?"

Jornam smiled. "Indeed. The rush toward the altar has not worn them out yet."

I grinned and accepted a more reserved hug from Jornam. "Lady Iragalys and Lord Trendal have buffered us from much of the stress and fuss."

Wen laughed. "And here I came early, thinking I would have to save you from my sister's drive for perfection." She smiled at her younger sibling. "My assistance is obviously unnecessary."

"But your company is always welcome," Iragalys assured her as Trendal handed her a refreshed drink.

Laromind rose. "I am played out," he declared, "possibly the happy couple can entertain us."

Pars's smile dimmed a little, but he maintained it admirably well. "We will gladly provide what respite we can." He looked at me. "The tenor?"

"You might as well bring both," I eyed Jornam. "I suspect his lordship will want a chance to test my skill again."

"I would not wish to tax your patience," Jornam replied humbly, though he could not mask the interest in his eyes.

"Are your recorders in the music room?" I asked, to which Jornam nodded. I looked at Pars. "Would you bring Jornam's as well?"

"Of course," Pars replied, nodding to his uncle.

"I will help you," Jornam offered, moving with Pars to the door.

Laromind looked none too pleased when Pars left to do as I asked. How unfortunate for him; I could not have cared less. "You are looking well, Laromind. Travel must agree with you."

He inclined his head, but did not return my compliment before heading for the service to refill his glass. His sister, however, did.

"It is you who looks well, Janel," Harlae said as she approached to take my hands. "And Pars has never looked more radiant."

"Did I not say she was the right woman for my nephew?" Wen asked; her gaze returning to Iragalys.

"Indeed you did," Iragalys replied, "most emphatically and on more than a few occasions." She turned her attention to me. "You need not entertain, Janel; you and Pars have been most diligent in your pursuits these last few days."

I smiled. "Thank you, but I am happy to do so." Playing also kept me from thinking upon subjects I was not desirous to explore further. I did not need to explore further; my mother had done so before me and her memories were clear enough. Another week and we would be done with our obligations. With luck, we would leave with Pel, and never look back.

The evening progressed without incident. I played while Pars sang. Jornam and I played several duets. Pars sang with Deolin and consented to a duet with Laromind. It would have been a pleasant distraction from my studies, were it not for the weight of Laromind's gaze always upon Pars or myself. His displeasure boiled so close to the surface that I was surprised it did not melt his makeup. Fortunately, he kept his displeasure under close regulation; for that I was most thankful.

I kissed Pars briefly before he stepped from the coach. "We will meet you for tea by midmorning."

Pars smiled at me as he stepped out and closed the door. "All will be well, Janel. I am certain the fittings will be nothing but a few pins and tucks."

"Don't give Lesalde too much grief," Trendal implored Pars.

"No more than she gives me," Pars promised, then tapped the side of the carriage to send us on our way.

Trendal looked at me. "That is one battle I am glad to miss."

"You need only lend me moral support while Mistress Geola turns me into a living pin cushion," I joked, feeling far more nervous than I sounded.

Trendal smiled. "You will be a graceful flame, illuminating Pars's beauty for all to admire."

I laughed. "As is my task for one day." I shook my head. "It is a lot of fuss and frenzy over a simple thing; we commit to each other before Goddess, witnessed by family and friends. All the trappings over complicate the matter."

Trendal shrugged. "If you are fortunate, you will only marry once. Should not the union of two souls be celebrated and honored?"

I sat back as the carriage continued toward our destination. "It feels like that union happened a lifetime ago," I sighed and looked at Trendal. "Goddess bound our souls together through trials most people never face. No ceremony, no matter how beautiful, can be more significant than that."

Trendal smiled. "As Pars advised: all will be well."

In ceremony, pomp and circumstance I had no doubt but that all would be well. It was in the quiet, and in the dark, unseen and unspoken, there was ill. It was an illness that ate away at the beauty of the Seven Matrians, darkening even the light of torch fire. I could no longer look upon the streets and not see it. The brighter the light of Cradalym only meant that the shadows cast here were darker and deeper. I tried not to look into those shadows; there was nothing but pain and loss there. I lifted my thoughts from dark places as the carriage stopped.

Trendal opened the door carriage door. "Don't look so forlorn, Janel. This will be nothing."

"Oh, I do hope my dress will be a bit more substantial than that," I replied, hoping that humor would brighten my ever darkening mood. "I have not the curves of Goddess to wear something depending upon my natural supports."

Trendal laughed. "I am sure Mistress Geola will provide a dress that not only flatters the groom, but yourself as well."

I smiled as he shut the carriage door. "If she can do thus, then I shall declare her a miracle worker to be sure."

We entered Geola's shop smiling, and were greeted by a smile in kind.

"Good morning, Mistress Janel." Geola looked at me over her detail spectacles as she finished a stitch on a dress at the center of the shop. It was royal blue velvet with silver embroidery and pearl accents. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever seen. She looked from my stunned expression to the dress and sighed. "I hate to be the bearer of sad tidings, Mistress, but this is not your dress."

A moment's hope dashed, but I bolstered my smile admirably. "I do not think I would fare well with that cut," I replied, "it is obviously meant for a woman of more divine proportions."

Geola laughed. "Indeed, but Goddess made us in beautiful varieties, mistress, so your proportions are no less divine."

"You have a gilded tongue, Mistress Geola."

"I speak as I see," she replied, gesturing to two helpers who carefully lifted the mannequin and carried it, dress and all, from the room. "You dress will be out directly." Brushing off her hands on her apron, she walked to the service near her desk. "Tea?"

"Thank you, no," I replied, wanting nothing more to get this over with.

"I would be delighted," Trendal replied, crossing to the service as Geola poured.

"Cream, sugar?"

"Both," he replied.

Geola dropped in the sugar and stirred in the cream before handing the cup to Trendal. She had her own tea ready by the time her assistants returned with another mannequin. The dress upon it was nearly black, yet where the light fell across it the fabric shined a rich green. Trimmed with gold, the dress hung upon the mannequin in simple elegance. About the neck were five strands of cream pearls.

Geola looked from me to the dress after her assistants retreated, and sipped her tea. "Lesalde picked an impossible fabric for the groom. I had a most difficult time finding a compliment." She looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "I will give your betrothed his due; he argued that pompous diva to a stand still over designs. I hear tell that she went into fits over his refusals."

I smiled. "Pars is anything if he is stubborn."

Geola smiled. "I have always preferred simplicity of design over the fuss Lesalde puts into her work. Do not mistake me to say I think poorly of it; her work is remarkable, but there are times when less is more."

I grinned, thinking of Pars's preference in makeup. Stepping in, I reached for the dress and then stopped, looking at Geola again. "May I?"

"By all means," she replied, sipping her tea. "It is your dress, mistress, it would be most unusual not to examine it before the blessed day."

I ran my fingers over the fabric. It was the soft, soft as a spider's web, but with more weight, nearly the weight of velvet, yet it had no pile. The surface was smooth, like satin, but without the slickness. I could feel the remnants of torch fire in the cloth. "I have never seen material like this."

Geola nodded. "It is made in Opalym, by the hearth holds in the Sillium Valleys. No one outside of those holds knows how it is made, beyond the fact that torch fire is involved."

One of her assistants returned, carrying a box. She set it upon the table near the mannequin and left without comment. Geola set down her tea and moved to the box. "I had to call in a few favors to get these," she said as she unlatched the lid, "but with your hair I simply had to crown the presentation." She opened the box.

I circled the dress, eyeing it as I moved to take a closer look at the contents of the box Within were pearl and gold earrings, and hair combs. They, like the cloth of the dress, had remnants of torch fire within them.

"Torch fire crafted?" I asked as I studied them.

"Indeed," Geola confirmed. "Mistress Taellys is a blessed artist."

Geola allowed me time to admire the works she had put out for me, and finished her tea before she returned to business. "Would you like help with the dress, Janel?"

I frowned, looking at the dress again. "No, I can manage it well enough. I will come out to be laced up correctly."

She nodded. "Then let us get this off your double and upon you. I doubt we will need to do much; I was most particular with my measurements, but always best to be sure."

Geola disrobed the mannequin with the help of an assistant, and placed the dress carefully behind the dressing screen. I stepped behind the screen and prayed that the dress would fit without need for modifications. I had strapped myself into foundation garments that would work under the most form following designs, but without Pars to help dress me, more complicated garments were a trial.

I managed to get the dress on without doing damage to it, or myself, but managing the closures up the back was beyond me. Resigned that I would need assistance, I pondered my options. Geola was too keen not to notice and question my foundations. That left Trendal, who was by no means an ignorant man. I peeked around the corner, resolved to get this over with. "Lord Trendal?" I asked as he looked up from his tea. "Would you be so kind as to help with the closures?"

He set down his tea and rose to my aid. "I would be delighted."

I waited behind the screen, breathing slowly and striving to remain calm. No one but Pars and my mother had ever helped me with my clothes. Once he was behind the screen, I lifted my hair to allow him access to the back of the dress.

Trendal eyed the fastenings for a moment, and then started at the bottom. He took his time, gently adjusting the fabric as he went to eliminate stretch lines or unsightly pulls. When he was done, I released my hair and shifted my shoulders to allow the fabric to return to its proper locations.

"Problems?" Geola asked from beyond the screen.

I turned, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Trendal.

"Not that I see," Trendal responded, "but it would be best to see this in full light."

I took a slow breath as Trendal stepped back, and then emerged from the dressing area. I walked to the central podium and stepped upon it.

Geola circled me, scrutinizing the hang of the fabric, cocking her head to the side as she tapped her glasses to her lips. Finally, to my relief, she nodded with a smile. "I do believe we got it right the first time."

I cast my gaze towards the ceiling, Thank Goddess.

After freeing myself from the ceremonial vestments, I joined Trendal and Geola for a cup of tea while her assistants packed the dress and jewelry.

"Thank you again, Mistress Geola," I said most earnestly as I sipped my tea. "I know not what we would have done without your skill and wisdom."

"Suffered through Lesalde's eccentricities with no one to balance her extremes of expression and artistic license." Geola sipped her tea again. "I was most honored by Lady Iragalys's confidence and matronage. I hope I lived up to her faith."

"Most certainly," Trendal assured her as the packaged items were returned to us. "We thank you for all your efforts."

Geola bid us safe journeys and joy as we left her with our treasures. Trendal placed the packages in the coach, and then waited for me to get in.

I frowned. My fitting went so effortlessly that we were left with at least an hour, possible two, before Pars would be free of Lesalde. With the dress and jewelry safely stored in the coach, I had no desire to sit and wait for hours.

"May we walk for a while, Lord Trendal?"

"As you wish," he replied., stepping out of the coach, and sending it back to the estate to have the dress and jewelry safely stored in my rooms. He nodded in the general direction we would eventually have to travel, and we began to walk.

Trendal walked beside me as we wandered our way slowly towards our midmorning tea with Pars. My thoughts were drawn, inexorably, to darker places. The city did not look the same since my mother's memories had begun mingling with my own. Thankfully, there was no confusion of identity. I knew my memories from hers like I knew my thoughts and ideas from those I had read in scrolls or books. I was ever surprised to recognize something, or someplace, as I traveled through Cradelym.

"Your mind is elsewhere," Trendal observed, as we stopped at a corner.

I nodded, looking at the streets briefly before choosing a direction. "I have a great many thoughts warring in my head."

"Any you wish to share?" He asked as he maintained his stride beside mine.

"No," replied, a bit too harshly. I sighed and smiled up at him as best I could. "I do appreciate your concern, Lord Trendal, but you need not the burden of my thoughts. I share what I can with Pars," I grinned, trying to lighten my mood as I rolled my eyes, "when he insists." That, at least caused Trendal to smile. "But there are no answers to my questions." At least none I wish to hear, I thought to myself.

The sensation of familiar torch fire drew my attention from our conversation. A messenger from Iragalys circled us as we approached the next cross street. I held up my hand, and it lighted upon it briefly before burning down to a small note. I opened it, scanning it briefly, and then read it to Trendal.

"Janel, your uncle has arrived."

"Please meet Pars for me," I asked Lord Trendal as I stepped out of the carriage.

"I shall bring him home directly."

Nodding, I stepped away from the carriage and watched it pull away from the house and head for the gates. Rubbing my palms against my thighs, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Iragalys was home, in her study, with a torch bearer whose flame I did not recognize. I pondered if the torchbearer was my uncle's niece, Hemalgan Tyrasin, when a small spark of torch fire flit from the house to me.

"Your uncle and cousin are with me in my study, Janel. Please join us when you are ready." The words were no more than a whisper, as if mumbled into one's glass for none to hear. Lady Iragalys was being most considerate; it almost worried me.

I walked into the house at a slow, but steady pace. I did not make it through the entry hall before a voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Didn't the gown fit, Cousin?" Laromind descended the stairs at a languid pace, nursing a glass of crimson fortitude as he moved. "I may call you cousin now, may I not?"

"If you wish," I replied, ignoring my earlier nervousness. My unknown relations were what I feared, not some bottle dependent little drama king.

His smile held more venom than a snake's as he asked again, "No dress?"

"The gown fit exceedingly well," I replied, caring not for his tone or his looks. "It is in good care; I have no need to keep it with me for reassurance."

"I suppose it doesn't matter, really," he sighed, "I am certain it will not be on you long. Pars can be most insatiable when presented with a meal he desires." He sipped wine again. "Have you not found him such?"

This was not a conversation I wished to have, but I could manage a few moments of word play. "Even a man as remarkable as Pars must rest and recover, Cousin. I have yet to find his appetites to be deficient. Of course, I am drawn to him for more than his 'prowess', so I have yet to take the time to measure any of his talents against one another."

"Of which his are so abundant to be sure," Laronmind mused. Then as if he no longer had the attention to devote to repartee, he flicked his fingers dismissively. " Enjoy his appetites while you are able; he will have his fill soon enough, and wish to eat more familiar food."

I opened my mouth to respond, but my retort was over voiced from a nearby doorway.

"Laromind. Were you not going into town to help my sister choose draperies?" Iragalys stood at the door of her study, her eyes inscrutable but fixed upon her nephew.

Laromind shifted, suddenly far less self assured than he was moments before. "I was not feeling decisive this morning, Aunt. I will meet her for lunch and we will shop in the afternoon."

"Considering your usual desire for self-preparation, I suggest you retreat to your baths. You will need to depart within the hour if you wish to meet your mother by midday." There was no suggestion in her tone, or the thrust of her gaze. She did not wait for his response before that gaze shifted to me. "It is good of you to cut your morning short, Janel. I pray there were no problems with Geola?"

"No, none. She did a remarkable job."

Iragalys pushed the door to her study more fully open and stepped back. "You have guests."

All thoughts of the vicious little king vanished as I looked passed Iragalys into her study. A short man with raven hair, silvering at the temples, stood near the hearth, gripping his coffee cup as tightly as I found my chest gripping my breath. I walked, slowly, through the doors, unable to see anything beyond the eyes of the man before me. They were my mother's eyes, the eyes that had watched me my entire life, the eyes that had faded and flickered to dull orbs so many months ago. They looked at me, brimming with moisture.

A tall woman, with soft brown hair and kind eyes, took the cup from my uncle's trembling hands, and stepped away with out a word.

I realized that one of us would have to say the first word, and it should probably be me. "You have my mother's eyes," I said, squeaked really. It wasn't the most appropriate introductory line, but it was all I could think of.

"So do you," he smiled, it trembled a bit but it was painfully sincere, "I should say you have your grandfather's eyes. Your mother and I got ours from him."

I was taller than my uncle, but our frames were similar. He had broader shoulders, as a man should, but his features were more graceful than average. I was not sure what was proper; should I hug him or simply grip his hand? Back home, in Aborah, relatives embraced with abandon. For obvious reasons, it was not a behavior I was accustomed to… I longed for it none the less.

"Forgive me if this is improper," I managed, before pulling him to me, "but in Aborah, families hug."

My uncle broke down, weeping into my neck as he wrapped his arms about me and held me as if he never wanted to let me go. I cried into his hair.

His niece smiled, her face already damp with tears, as she put her fingers to her lips with what I believed was restrained joy. "Bless Goddess," she whispered, and then quietly followed Iragalys out of the room, leaving us to the painful process of discovery and reunion in private.

Were I not in such a state of disbelief and need, my uncle's frequent desire to touch me, as if to confirm I was real, would have caused me great discomfort. As it was, his actions simply kept me from having to touch him for confirmation. I accepted another cup of tea from him as he returned from the service.

"Thank you," I said, before taking a much more relaxed sip of my tea than our first cups.

"Your mother hated tea," Uncle Renolan chuckled, easing into what I assumed was a more normal humor for him.

I nodded. "She drank it seldom, but during the winters of Aborah, you learn to drink anything that is hot. I do not believe she ever learned to like tea."

"Did you ever know your grandmother, Janel?"

I flinched. "No. She died the year I was born."

He nodded. "About twenty years ago, I woke up from a dead sleep, and clawed at my flesh as if I were on fire. When it passed, I was certain Sharimel was dead," he looked at me, "but I suppose what I felt was Mother's passing." He shrugged. "I had never been close to Mother, but I maybe there was a connection none the less."

No, I thought as I looked at him, you had known correctly. I sipped my tea again. "That must be what it was."

"Did she ever tell you, Janel, why she left?"

"She told me that Goddess called her to bring torch fire into the darkness, so she went to a far place absent of torch fire, and illuminated it." That was the truth, it was what she'd told me, but I knew that it was just a convenient truth to cover over the real truth.

He sighed, his smile filled with an old sadness. "At least I know. Too many people vanish from our lives without any reason why. I am glad to know she lived and that you were there with her in the wilds."

"Tell me of you," I implored, hoping to get away from the dance of truth and shadow I had to do around his questions.

Renolan shrugged. "There is nothing to tell. I am an old widower with no children. Floramyn has been a generous sister, allowing me to live under her roof these many years without complaint." He sipped his tea. "I did my best to be of service. I helped rear my nieces." He nodded toward the study doors. "Tyrasin is the third of five girls. It is hard on the middle children of a large family; easily overlooked. Fortunately, I was able to give my attention to her and her brothers."

"How many children did Floramyn have?"

"Eight: five girls, three boys." Renolan chuckled. "Cronehood came to her quite late; apparently Goddess wished her to compensate for her sisters' misfortunes. The Hemalgan line is assured continuation."

I cocked my head, giving him an inquisitive look. I had not studied the Hemalgan line beyond noting his marriage into it, and that his wife had died within a year of the miscarriage of their first and only child.

"My wife was not the only member of her family to die young. Both younger sisters, my Patimatal, and her sister Leshind, died without children. My wife simply lost the will to live after the loss of our son, and Leshind died in labor." Renolan shook his head sadly.

A dark pit formed in my stomach as I spoke, but I couldn't stop myself. "Was the child a boy?"

Renolan blinked at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"Leshind's child," I said, already knowing the answer, "was it a boy?"

Renolan shrugged. "I do not know. They say her body refused to release the child and that they died together, even though the Erymal nearly burned herself out trying to save them."

I cringed. Something in his words woke a memory that flickered only briefly in my mind before fleeing the light. Just the flicker, which was not enough for any conscious retention, left me nearly sick. I fought back the wave of nausea and struggled to keep my discomfort from showing. What happened, Mother? What did you know? What is it that you refuse to let me see?

My mother remained as silent as the grave.

Awakenings - Chapter 05

2007-06-14T14:37:23Z

Best intentions aside, I didn't take well to being imprisoned in my own apartment. School, training, home, study, eat, sleep, repeat, that was the cycle of my life; if you could call that living. By the end of the first week I was going nuts. I found myself on the balcony, early Friday evening, staring longingly at the city. I watched people walking along the streets, hurrying mostly, on their way to get somewhere before dark. Behind me, the door slid open and Urioch stepped out onto the balcony.

"Would you like to do something tonight, Jason?" He rested his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

Well, Duh! Hello! Of course I would. I could think of a million things I wanted to do. At least I could until the muscle bound elf decided to ask. What was it about being asked a question that made me clam up? The question I hated the most was, What do you want? I could never answer that one. I pulled my gaze from the streets and shrugged. "Can't go out after dark."

Urioch smiled. "My understanding is that you are not to go out, unescorted, after dark."

I snorted. "Same difference, chaperones are no fun."

"Ah, that is unfortunate. Magdalene provided me with tickets to The Tempest, playing over in Atlas." He held up two tickets. "She gave them to me in hopes that I could expand your cultural horizons."

"The Tempest, huh?" I shot Urioch a wry smile. "I already read the book and saw the remake."

He shrugged, tucking the tickets into his pocket. "I looked forward to going, but if you are not interested, we could do something else."

"Okay, okay. God forbid that I ruin your chance to do something 'cultural'." I rolled my eyes. "What time is the show?"

"Eight-thirty."

It was just after six. "I'm not going to have to wear a tux am I?"

"No, this is not the opera. This is the last production of the Summer Shakespeare season. A nice shirt and slacks will do." He was already wearing black pants and a crisp blue shirt. The bastard had figured I'd go.

"I'll get changed." I'd showered when I got home from the gym, so all I had to do was change clothes..

We got to the theater with a half hour to spare, and found our seats. Airline seats had more room. I was just an athletic guy, not a muscle man, and my shoulders invaded the neighboring seats. It was impossible for Urioch to stay contained in the space. He had an aisle seat, but our shoulders were crammed together in ways that were anything but comfortable. Contrary to popular belief, hard muscle was not ideal for being packed in like sardines.

There was no way I was going to sit, uncomfortably, in barely padded seats, for two hours of a play. Why the hell didn't live theater have stadium seating like the Cineplex did? I was about to say something when Urioch lifted his arm, swung it over, and extended it across the back of my seat. Suddenly, there was room.

I sat there, staring ahead, trying not to look around. It made sense for him to do it. It was the only way to be comfortable. I just couldn't relax. What if someone thought we were fags? I didn't feel anything negative from the people around us. I sensed curiosity at most, and that was probably because the man sitting next to me had pointed ears. As the lights dimmed, I took a deep breath and sank back into my seat. It meant Urioch would have his arm all but draped on my shoulders, but at least it was comfortable. I could live with it if he could. It wasn't anyone's fucking business anyway.

Uncomfortably shared personal space aside, the play was great. I couldn't believe who they had playing the old wizard. "Was that really Malaise?"

"According to the play bill, yes." Urioch handed me the play bill. "The Summer Shakespeare Company is a non-profit organization. The proceeds go toward charitable programs here in Paragon City. They often have popular actors, or in this case famous heroes, who donate their time."

"Kick ass! " I skimmed the info on Malaise. I'd only known he was one of the pre-Rikti hero trainers, like Brawler. He apparently did most of his heroing over in Independence Port, but he also found time to use his illusionary powers for theatrical ventures. I wanted to look up what other plays and movies he'd acted in. Urioch shook his head, smiling at me. "What," I asked, feeling like he knew something I didn't.

"It is a pleasure to witness your enthusiasm, Jason."

I shrugged. Why was it whenever someone pointed out I was happy, it faded? "Not much to be enthused about I guess." My stomach grumbled as we got to the corner. "Is there anyplace open at this point? I'm starved."

Urioch stopped, pulled his monocle out of his pocket, and snapped it on. I didn't understand how the thing could just "connect" to his head like that. There wasn't anything to hold onto. "Yes. What would you like to eat?"

That was so weird. Did he have a computer stored in that little thing? "Uhm, something light? Maybe coffee and a sandwich."

Urioch chuckled. "Were we in Steel Canyon, I would suggest that we go to Jonathan's. The Cauldron is open all night."

"Yeah," I grinned, knowing he would hunt the shelves for any book he hadn't read yet. "But we aren't."

He touched the side of his head and then pulled off the monocle. "There is an Ahab's between Chiron Medical center and the Tram."

"How the hell do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The eye piece thing." I gestured at his face as we crossed the street.

Tapping the side of his head, Urioch shrugged. "Sub-dermal implantation. Though I have eidetic memory, I do not have the computational abilities of a computer. Apparently, my people compensated for that through augmentation."

"That'd be so cool. I'd never have to remember a name or number again." I stopped for a moment, staring at the upcoming intersection, and frowned. "Why are we walking?"

"Because you continued to walk after we left the theater."

Grumbling, I pushed off from the ground. When I was with Urioch was one of the few times I was allowed to use my powers. He was my super chaperone; I damn well was going to make use of it. "Let's take the scenic route. I've seen this all by foot before."

Urioch floated up beside me and pointed. "That way."

It was a whole different perspective looking at the lamp lit streets as we soared above them. In a way, the world wasn't as daunting when you could get above it. We landed a block from Ahab's and walked the rest of the way. Flying was a strain on me, but it was getting easier. It also took just enough concentration as to keep my brain occupied. I didn't have as many dark thoughts that way.

I gazed around Ahab's as I sipped my latte, noticing how many people were buying coffee late at night. Paragon really was a twenty-four hour city. "We're obsessed with good coffee," I repeated the corporate slogan under my breath. "They're obsessed with profits." I smiled at Urioch. "I've got to admit that the coffee is better than Thelma's."

"I agree with you, but it is a matter of taste." He sipped his tea. "Thelma serves coffee that I heard described as capable of stripping chrome from a bumper. Many heroes need that sense of 'burning power' to believe their coffee is strong enough for them." He lifted his cup of green tea. "I prefer more subtle flavors. The human sense of taste and smell is not as developed as other species."

"Your's included, I presume," I jibed as I took another swig.

"I can not speak for my race, but the spectrum of my senses is much broader than the average human's." He sipped his tea again. "I can, for example, tell whether or not you are upset simply by catching your scent."

I blinked. "You can?"

He nodded. "I can not read other beings' thoughts, nor can I determine exact emotional states the way your empathy is able to, but with beings of whom I am familiar I can determine their basic moods by taste or smell."

"Ewww… well don't start trying lick me," I laughed.

"The thought had not crossed my mind," Urioch replied.

I shifted in my seat. "Sounds like you have your own biochemical lie detection system."

Urioch smiled. "That is an excellent analogy." He sipped his tea again. "My senses do not work quite as well in areas of strong or multilayered scents and odors. I do not believe I would be able to track someone by scent, for instance." He smiled at me again.

I laughed, imagining a cartoon Urioch with a blood hound nose and floppy ears. "So, how do I smell?"

Urioch paused, considering my joking question seriously. It took me a moment to realize he was actually thinking about it.

"Uhm," I shifted in my seat again, "It was a joke, Urioch."

He shrugged. "As you wish. It was a valid question."

"Trust me, I don't think I want to know what some hyper-sensitive nose thinks of my B.O." I swigged down my last swallow and stood up. "You done?" I asked, nodding at his plate.

"Yes." Urioch finished his tea while I tossed out the remains of our meal. It'd been nice just to sit and talk. We talked a lot more since the Boomtown Taskforce. I thought about it, and realized we'd really started connecting the night we watched Forbidden Planet for the second time. It was like some invisible barrier was gone. As we stepped onto the street, Urioch gripped my shoulder lightly. "I enjoyed this evening, Jason. Thank you for coming."

Urioch had touched me more, in those little, meant nothing ways, over the past couple weeks than he had the entire time we'd known each other. Holding me when I was hysterical at the hospital didn't count. "Yeah," I smiled, looking up the street, "I had fun too."

We'd just taken to the air when Urioch stopped, his head snapping about as if he had seen something. In a practiced motion, he pulled out his monocle, put it on, and soared toward an alley. "Jason, stay out here."

I frowned. What the hell is going on? Stay out here? No fucking way. I followed, flying a bit higher and slower, but I wasn't about to watch Urioch vanish into an alley at half-past eleven without backup.

Light flared from the alley as I got to the corner. It was almost blinding, and was followed by several more blue-white blasts. In the light of Urioch's attacks, I saw figures at the back of the alley. They looked like something out of a bad horror flick. Four were mismatched, walking corpses that had been stitched together from who knew how many different parts. They shambled towards Urioch as he blew them down, only to have them stand back up and try again. Behind the zombies were two freaks wearing something between doctor's scrubs and butcher's clothes. If that wasn't weird enough, they added to the ensemble human rib vests and skull head pieces. Are those really human remains?

A sickening green light, something similar to Demonicalle's power, emanated from a dark figure at the rear of the creatures. Bubbles and swirls of the green stuff erupted from her, filling the end of the alley and engulfing Urioch. At the same time, the butcher like bastards pulled up some high-tech looking cross bows and fired at him. One bolt missed, the other skewered his leg. Urioch hit the ground. I could feel his pain as I closed in, but he didn't even cry out. This is nuts! Urioch wasn't in his armor; he was flesh and blood mortal like anyone else without it.

"Heroes always provide better materials," one of the ribbed fucker's laughed as he gestured at the zombies. "Bring the foo…." He didn't get to finish his orders. Urioch blew the bastard down the alley and smashed him against the far wall. That's when I saw the couple huddled against the back wall. A woman whimpered and cried as she held a man to her. The man looked like someone had taken a butcher's knife to him. He was alive; I could feel it, but barely.

The dark wrapped figure raised her hands. I couldn't figure out what she was wearing. It was kind of like she was completely wrapped up in leather or restraints. None of her could be seen, not even her hair. "Meddlesome hero, stay in the light where you belong." She blasted Urioch with some sort of eerie green energy that caused him to stagger as he struggled to stand. The zombies were way too close to him for my comfort.

"Back off, bitch!" Hefting the dumpster nearest me with my thoughts, I hurled it at the green glowing leather queen. What ever her powers were, they apparently didn't affect non-living objects. She blasted the oncoming dumpster, but it just kept going, mowing down a couple zombies before crushing her against the building. We had some breathing room, but there were still more zombies and that other bone head with the crossbow.

"Jason, get out of here!" Urioch blew back the zombies closest to him as I landed beside him.

"Yeah, right. Stop wasting your breath." Waving at the guy with the crossbow, I sent him into the air as high as I could and let his sorry ass fall like a stone. He hit the ground with a crunch that made my stomach churn. What is this, Dawn of the Dead? "What are these things?"

"Vahzalok," Urioch grunted as he blew apart one of the zombies. "They harvest people for their parts, much like how Clockwork scavenge construction sites and warehouses for materials to build more of themselves."

"That's gross!" Gripping at the air, I grabbed the remaining few Vahz in my thoughts and held them. "Who the fuck does shit like that?"

Blowing apart the remaining zombies, Urioch stood up. He was unsteady because of the bolt lodged in his thigh. I slipped under his arm and braced him. He grunted. "I am fine, Jason. See to the victims while I summon the incarceration units.

I bounded around the rotting, smelly, oozing remains of the things we'd just fought. I could see green, sickening light glowing from behind the dumpster. I didn't think the bitch was down yet. "Uhm, Urioch. I think the leather bitch is still awake."

"I shall deal with the Edilon, Jason."

Edilon? Is that what the bitch is called?

The poor woman was completely traumatized when I got to her. She huddled against the wall, cradling the man she loved, and whimpered incoherently. The guy was fading. We didn't have time to wait for the EMS guys. We were only four blocks from the hospital and the fuckers would circle the city twice before getting to us.

"I'm going to get you some help." Wrapping them gently in my thoughts, I took to the air. Urioch hobbled toward the dumpster. "You are not going to fight that thing alone," I yelled, extending my attention to him and yanking him from the ground. "We're going."

"Jason!"

"No!" The last thing I wanted was to face another hurting, injured Urioch. I could deal with him being upset with me. It was a lot easier to face than pain. I pulled two victims and one irritated alien out of the alley and flew for the hospital. I knew I'd face another round of lectures about not having the authority to get involved, endangering myself, and all the rest of the bullshit. I didn't care any more. If Urioch was going to go into battle without his armor, in the dark, without backup, the fucking rules were off. We won. I made a difference. I wasn't going to sit on my hands any more.

Dark grey was a much better color for hiding in shadows than pure black. Most everything reflected a little bit of light, even at night. Pitch black stood out, dark grey blended into the shadows. That was something Killer taught me. Most of the skulls wore black, black and more black. Gang colors. Killer was smart, the assholes I'd pounded into the pavement over the last week weren't. It was so easy to look like the hapless victim who was stupid enough to be out on the streets at two in the morning. It was easy to catch the would-be muggers by surprise, smash them against the buildings, trees, ground, or just hold them frozen in the air until they passed out because I wouldn't let them breath. I never waited for the incarceration bots to collected the criminals. It was so damn cool. I was making a difference. I wasn't scared all the time.

I slid open the bedroom window and floated silently in. I had to wash the black spray out of my hair before Urioch got up. I dropped Urioch's Freedom Corps communicator on the desk and pulled off my sweatshirt. I had it over my head when I heard Urioch from the doorway. "Jason, what are you doing?"

Fuck! I pulled the shirt the rest of the way off and tried to come up with a plausible lie. "Practicing."

Urioch frowned. "What were you practicing, in dark clothing, at two in the morning?" His gaze fell to the communicator. "With my communicator?"

Shit, shit, shit. "I'm trying to learn to fly, okay?" I hedged. "We don't get time in training any longer. We're doing more in-the-field work instead of training sessions."

He raised an eyebrow, skeptically. Damn chemical lie detector; he probably had me tagged before I opened my mouth.

"The Ice Queen has me all but house arrested." I spit my frustration at Urioch while tossing my shirt aside. "I can't even use my powers in public unless I'm on program business or with you. The only chance I get to use them is when I can sneak out on my own." Well, that was true enough. I did love flying; the freedom of it was addictive.

"And the dark clothing, hair color and my communicator?"

"Dark clothes, aka, can sneak in and out without being seen. Dark hair, duh! The communicator..." I shrugged. The last thing he needed to know was that I was using it to call the incarceration units after I went all Back Alley Brawler on a few bad guys. "Last time I was caught out after dark I couldn't make an emergency call. At least with the squawk box I can get help if I need it."

He put out his hand, and I floated the communicator to him. He took it, frowning at me. "If you want to practice your flying, Jason, you should ask me." I was beginning to get a better read on Urioch's emotions. He wasn't pissed; he was disappointed. "Mrs. Patterson asked me to provide you with social outlets. Over the last few weeks you have resisted nearly all my attempts to provide them. If you are sincere in your desire to practice your flight, I will make certain to provide you with opportunities to do so."

I blinked. He wasn't going to lecture me about going out, breaking my curfew, and such? "No lecture?"

"No," Urioch turned and crossed the hall to his room.

I stood there, not sure what had just happened, trying to decide if I had gotten away with anything. I couldn't understand Urioch. He was just too damn weird.

The next night, after a long day of classes I couldn't focus on, Urioch all but dragged me out of the apartment and into the air. I didn't like the attitude. I didn't like being manhandled. What I really didn't like was that Urioch wasn't happy about it at all. The few times we'd flown together before this he'd enjoyed it. Some social outlet this was; it was more like flight boot camp.

After about an hour, I landed on one of the water towers in the Nebula districted, panting, while Urioch circled around and stopped to hover beside the tower. He hadn't even broken a sweat. "Shall we turn back?"

I frowned up at him. "You know, flying around like some damn long distance race isn't fun at all."

Crossing his arms, he looked at me. "Then you should be more communicative. I have found the pace quite comfortable."

Pushing myself back up, and glowered at him. "How the hell can I communicate with you when I'm yelling into the wind?"

"You have a valid point." Looking about, Urioch spotted a Cook's Electronics sign a few streets over. "Rest. I will be right back." He rocketed off, disappearing like a beam of light, and was gone in a matter of seconds. The bastard had been toying with me the whole hour. I finally caught my breath when the blue-white streak shot back toward me. Circling the tower as he slowed, Urioch tossed me a package. "This should solve the problem."

I opened the bag and found a two-way radio headset in it. He wasn't wearing one. "What channel?"

"I have it set on thirty-three. My communicator is on the same frequency."

Why was he being short with me? I'd felt his tension when I got home, and it had only built during the flight. I snapped. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Urioch swooped over, landing in front of me. "I am simply treating you with the same courtesy and respect you have shown me, Jason." What was I feeling from him, frustration, or maybe hurt feelings? "I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable in your transition to this life style. I treat you with respect, honoring your privacy and your possessions; courtesies you have not extended to me. I strive to include you in activities without success." His voice rose, not so much in volume, but in intensity; clipped words and precisely controlled pronunciation. I swore he was mad. "It is difficult to be your friend, Jason." He paused. It took him a moment to let out a low, long breath, and I felt his tension lessen. "I am saddened that you do not trust me."

Damn it. What about that made me think of a golden retriever who'd just been kicked? The worst part about it was he was right. I wasn't letting him be my friend. Why the fuck was I doing that? "I'm sorry."

"Three hundred and fifty-six, Jason." He sounded tired.

"What do you expect me to say?"

"I stay hopeful that one day you will respond with something like: I will not do that any longer; or, I will try harder; or simply, I understand. For all your new found abilities, you have shown no interest in understanding anyone, the least of all yourself. Apologies have no power when there is no intention to amend or change."

I sat down, defeated. "What's the point? The harder I try, the more difficult shit becomes. At some point I'm going to really fuck up, like Battlement, and I'll be behind bars."

"I do not believe that will happen." Urioch sat down beside me. "You are fixated upon the negative, Jason. Though your trainers have many times praised you for your progress, you remember only the criticisms. Mrs. Patterson has provide you with income, training and further education, but you only see her placing limitations and impositions upon your freedom and choices. Do you truly hate your life since you woke in the hospital?"

Do I hate my life? Do I hate being off the street? Do I hate not being scared all the time? Hell no! I thought about that while the sun sank closer to the horizon. The days were getting shorter. I shrugged. "No."

"Then why do you fight against them?"

For a brief second, I had the answer. I choked, pushing it away and snarled, "Just leave it alone, Urioch!" Twisting around, I locked my gaze with his. I hadn't done that since the hospital. He still had the most amazing eyes. I just stared, trying to understand what I saw in them. The longer I looked, the deeper I seemed to be drawn into them. Finally, I had to ask, "Why do you care?"

He brought his hand up and cupped it behind my neck, holding our gaze. "When we found you, dying in that warehouse, I did not believe you would survive. Most people die from the hybrid versions of Superadyne. Yet, as I flew you to Crown Medical, your eyes were filled with the most desperate need to live." He paused, studying my eyes while I tried not to tremble. He could do that to me. He could make me feel completely exposed and safe all at the same time. It was terrifying. "I am honoring my promise to the young man whose eyes held so much potential that I had to see it fulfilled."

Fuck. I couldn't even find my voice for a few moments. "I'm trying." It wasn't much, but I meant it.

"I know." He didn't let go, but I looked away. I couldn't take the intensity of his eyes any longer. After a few moments, Urioch released my neck and his hand slid down my back. "Jason, you are shivering."

I hadn't even noticed. The air was cool and my costume was soaked with sweat; spandex wasn't the best material for thermal protection. "Getting chilled I guess." I looked out at the skyline. The sun was over half way down and the sky was shifting from gold into crimsons and reds. "It's a beautiful sunset."

Killer used to climb up on the water towers, or sit on the roof tops in King's Row before sunset and sunrise. I watched them with him many times, wondering what he saw in them.

"Real power ain't the day or night, good or bad," Killer explained, the last time I watched one with him. "It's all about change, and who's in charge of it." He put his hand on my should and grinned his wolf grin - hungry, knowing, a bit sinister. "We're go'n to be the ones in charge, Jase." He nodded at the sky. "You and me, like sunrise and sunset; if anything's go'n to happen, we'll be the ones decide'n it."

We never tested that theory. My promotion got me off the streets, and put him behind bars. That was another condition of my parole; no contact with prior gang members. I hadn't seen Killer, hadn't been to Brick, nothing. It was like that part of my life didn't exist; like somebody thought if I didn't acknowledge it then it wasn't real. Killer was real. He'd been the one making the changes; the problem with change was that it's hard to predict. You didn't always get the outcome you wanted.

Urioch shifted, snapping me out of my memories. He settled behind me, so similar to how Demonicalle had in the park. A few months ago I would have freaked if anyone had gotten so close. He radiated a weak energy field, warming the air around us. I sat there, not sure what to do. I was just so tired keeping my guard up while waiting for life to kick me in the balls. With a slow, deep breath I leaned back and let him drape his arms loosely about me as I warmed up. He stared over my shoulder at the sunset. "Yes, it is beautiful."

I nodded absently, feeling the tension seep away as I sank into the safety of him. "Thanks," I sighed, closing my eyes, and just let things be.

"You are welcome."

We sat like that until long after the sunset. I trusted Urioch. I trusted him since the moment I looked into those damn alien eyes of his. I didn't trust me, and that was something I didn't know how to get passed. I dozed off feeling warm, safe, and not wanting to fight against life anymore.

We went flying every night that week. The first few times were simple touring flights, getting a lay of the land. Once we were comfortable with our routine, Urioch got creative. He caught me off guard our fourth night out by slapping my leg and calling out, "Tag," before he sped into the sky. It took me a moment to realize what was going on, and I took off after him. There was no contest; he could fly much faster than I could. The one advantage I had was that I could start and stop on a dime; he couldn't. I finally tagged him by cheating. I caught him in a psychokinetic hold, smacked his boot, and then dove for cover before he broke out of my hold. That only upped the ante, and before long I was laughing myself silly, trying to keep out of Urioch's grasp. In the end, he tackled me mid air, sending us both to the ground. He spun about, still holding me, right before impact and absorbed it himself, sending sod and dirt in a spray as we hit.

"Ouch," I chuckled. It took me a moment to realize he was still holding me, not in a tackle hold, but in a protective one. He must have shifted it when he realized we were going to hit the ground.

He loosened his grip, looking at me in concern. "Are you alright?"

I grinned, sitting up. "Yeah. I may have a bruise or two, but it wasn't any worse than being slammed down too hard in a wrestling match."

Urioch stood up, brushing off his armor before extending his hand to me. I took it. "You never mentioned you had been a wrestler."

"Junior Varsity and Varsity in high school." I shrugged. "I assumed you'd read my history file."

Urioch shook his head. "I have no access to your file, Jason. I know nothing about you that you have not provided to me." He shot me a wry smile. His humor was subtle, but I was beginning to catch onto it. "You have not even told me how old you are."

"Nineteen," I answered immediately, and then paused. I'd been so caught up in the changes in my life that I completely lost track of time. "I'll be twenty on Sunday."

Urioch cocked his head, thinking for a moment, and then laughed. He had a great laugh. "I should have Magdalene provide me a complete astrological chart on you. I do not put much stock in divination, but she has quite excellent insights into people and claims that the charts aid her in her perceptions." Mussing my hair, he took to the air. "It explains your worrying nature."

I flew up after him, not sure what he was talking about. "What?"

"You are a Virgo." He sped up, pushing to the limit of my flight ability.

I strained, trying to keep up, and was frustrated at his enigmatic answers. "Yeah, so?"

"If you are curious about the mystical influences on your life, Jason, research it." I could get nothing more out of him on the subject for the rest of the evening.

"What are we doing here in Prometheus Park?" I pulled off my shirt as Urioch did the same. It was probably the last gasp of summer; we had a sunny, hot day, and we wanted to enjoy it.

He held up the polymer Frisbee. "Flight and accuracy practice. Friends will be along shortly to add to the challenge."

"So am I trying to catch the thing or dodge it?"

Tossing the Frisbee down on our shirts, he pointed and zapped me with a small blue-white bolt. "You will be dodging."

Rubbing my pec, I frowned. "That stings!"

His slowly growing grin made me realize that I had just said the wrong thing. "Then I suggest you learn evasion quickly."

"Bastard," I yelled, taking to the sky as he hit me with another zap. I spun about in the air, trying to keep my bearings while avoiding his bolts. They never really hurt, but they did leave little stinging marks, like when you snapped a rubber band against your skin. After trying to shake him off in the trees, by diving around statues and doing everything I could think of, I finally had had enough. I spun on him, freezing him in the air. "Okay, okay, enough!"

He raised an eyebrow, his grin never diminishing. "I suppose it is time for us to take a break."

"Yeah," I grumbled, rubbing the little red welts all over my arms and torso, "I'll break something alright, if we do that again."

I looked down to where we'd left our stuff, and saw a half dozen people gathered about. All of them I knew. Blaize called up at me as he peeled off his shirt and tossed it with ours on the bench. "You're one pale eyesore, Deathman!"

I snorted, landing near him while flicking him the bird. "Well, we can't all be born brown and beautiful, Flaming Finger."

Blaize laughed, smacking my abs. "You're buffing up, bro."

I grinned. I'd been working out a lot of frustration over the last month. The university gym was one of my "allowed activities". I used it a lot. "Yeah, well, haven't got much else to do but study. That gets old fast."

"You have to learn how to enjoy life, Death's Head." I turned to face the owner of the new voice, and nearly toppled back. Brawler smiled down at us. "Life's too short to work all the time." Brawler eyed me like a caged rat. "Which reminds me: your life just shortened by another year."

I blinked. Oh fuck, it's Sunday. I shot Urioch an evil look. "You set this up!"

"Guilty," he replied without a hint of shame. "No one is too old for a birthday celebration; even someone as ancient as twenty."

Janet laughed as she got a good look at me. "You look like you've been attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes."

I growled, reaching for my shirt. "I was attacked by an Urioch swarm."

"Poor baby," Demonicalle teased as she ran her hands over me. I shivered. The warm tingling sensation calmed quickly, and I noticed the bruises were fading away. "Can't leave marks on all that tender flesh."

"Oh, shut up, Calle. I'm not your type." I swatted her away with my shirt, but didn't put it on.

"Hmm," she replied, putting hands on her hips while she looked me over. "You're coming along nicely, hot stuff. Another couple years and you'll be ripe for picking."

"Oh please. I'm young but I'm not cherry, Demonicalle. You're a few years too late for that."

"Damn," she teased, propping her hip against the picnic table.

"Blaize," Magdalene looked up at him as she put the last candle on the cake I hadn't noticed before, "Would you do the honors?"

Blaize grinned, waving his hand over the candles, causing them to flash alight.

I looked at the table, realizing there was a hell of a lot more I had missed. There were at least a dozen presents, plates, tubs of food, and several bottles of various drinks. How the hell had they managed it all without my seeing them? I stood, transfixed by the table, totally confused.

Lenny smiled. "I figured out a few new ways to use my darkness powers." With that, he faded almost out of view, as did most of the table and items on it. He wasn't really invisible, but if I hadn't been looking at him I might not have noticed him in a casual glance.

"Sneaky," I laughed as he faded back into view.

Magdalene walked around the table and gave me a hug. "Happy Birthday, Jason."

I smiled. "We still haven't done dinner."

Magdalene smiled back. "We have no more excuses. I just moved into an apartment in the same building as you and Urioch." Why the hell would she want to move out of Steel Canyon and into Galaxy City? She shrugged, probably having read my thoughts. "Kevin and I picked out the apartment together. Now that he is gone, I would rather have a smaller, more intimate space." She laughed, though I could sense a touch of sadness in it. "Kevin always wanted bigger. The apartment was simply an extension of the obsession."

"I suppose I should blow out those candles." I nodded at the slowly melting sticks of wax.

"Not before I get there, punk!" Amanda called out as she wheeled off the sidewalk, followed by a tall guy I immediately recognized as her brother Patrick from the photos in her office. He had a little girl in his arms and his wife was corralling their son as they got to the table. "Do you think you're going to get a year older without me? I don't think so."

I'd never had so many people show up for my birthday before. Even as a kid it was usually my parents, grand parents when they were alive, and a couple friends. This was a bit overwhelming. "Damn," I mumbled after pulling out of Amanda's hug.

"Oh, I have something for you." Amanda pulled out a card and handed it to me. "Don't burn it."

I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. The cover was a beautiful photo of a sunrise over the ocean. I opened it, and the inside read, "May your new year be brighter than the one before. Happy Birthday. Edna Patterson." I blinked. The old witch was sending me birthday cards?

"Yes, Jason. Even the Wicked Witch of the West is sending you birthday well wishes." Amanda laughed. "You're just going to have to accept that you've got a group of people all trying to help you onto your feet and see you happy."

I looked about at the motley crew of friends and acquaintances who had assembled in my honor. I felt like I was seven years old, not twenty, and I'd been given my first bike. "Thanks, guys."

Demonicalle rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Enough mushy stuff. Candles! Cake! Lunch! Frisbee! Hurry up!"

Laughing, I waved my hand at the candles, snuffing them out in one thrust of will. It was a new year. I saw no reason to do things the old fashioned way.