Fanfic time: Misfits part 52

Continued from yesterday:

  It was a very rare moment for the Institute. One in which there was enough peace and quiet to allow for some entertainment. The only bug in the ointment was that Kurt, through superior effort at school, got to pick the movie.

  “His bathwater was tepid,” the elf chorused along with the dialogue. “Poor Lolita, I fear her wedded life will be the same[1]… heheheheh…”

  The up-side, at least for Sara and Todd, was that he was the world’s worst chaperone. He was paying absolutely no attention at all to the young couple entwined on the couch and they liked it that way.

  Sara broke their extended kiss, coming up for air, but not letting go of Todd.

  Todd rested his head on her shoulder and squeezed. “Mmmmy precioussss,” he hissed.

  Sara giggled. “Wrong movie.”

  “Who said we was payin’ attention to any movies?”

  Sara wrapped her arms around him and snuggled. “Mmmmm… You *are* very wicked. Just what I like.”

  “Glad you approve.”

  Sara found her gaze drifting outwards, towards the lobby door. It felt almost like…

  “Sumpin’ up?”

  “The ceiling, clouds, moon, stars… assorted astral bodies…”

  “Yo, somethin’ *is* buggin’ yo. You gone all literal on me.”

  Sara shook her head. “I don’t know. I usually only get like this at the beginning of November… and this is…”

  “The middle of September, yo. I know.” With a bit of a stretch, he could kiss the line of her jaw. So he did. “Mebbe you got yo'self crosswired? Things’re nice so yo’ Dad must be home?”

  “Maybe,” Sara allowed. “But the vibe I’m getting is ‘coming home’, not 'is home’. Things are far more… at peace when he’s at home. Before he gets here, it’s all…” she tisked. “You remember anticipating Christmas?”

  “Once upon a time, yeah.”

  “That sort of twanging-tense something-is-going-to-happen feel in the air… you know? Something special is coming, but I don’t know what.”

Todd laughed. “I just got through tellin’ Lance you all *about* Zen an’ you turn aroun’ and pull this…”

  “Sorry, darling.”

  “Naw. It’s cool. We figure it out in time, a'ight?”

  “And you thought *I* was Zen. You’re mastering the basics at amazing speed.”

  “One of us has got to be th’ control.”

  Kurt snorted into his drink. “Could you guys not say stuff like that during the ad breaks? You have no idea how that sounded…”

  “Serves you right for eavesdropping.” said Sara.

 [1] Two side-flings in one! Comic!Kurt was watching the very same movie at the beginning of a short tale by Dave Cockrum called _Show Me the Way to Go Home_… which is, incidentally, the first Nightcrawler story I ever read :)  It’s also a side-fling to the *original* _Mask of Zorro_ starring Tyrone Powell. [See? Fanfic *can* be educational  ]

~

  Jean had ground her laborious way through her homework while Sara had cursed daintily at hers.

  “Show working,” Sara had muttered. “Don’t they *trust* me?”

  “They gotta make sure everyone knows the method,” said Jean, not looking up.

  “Know it? Dear, I have it hard-wired.”

  “Yes, but *they* don’t know that.”

  Sara sighed, mumbled, “…fudge…” and got on with the last of it. She got up and dithered around for half an hour before she finally lit one of those candles in a glass pot and set it out on the balcony. This action almost instantly diffused her lingering and inchoate anxiety about something.

  “Pagan rituals?” said Jean.

  “Something of the sort. A light to guide Daddy home. I usually only do this thing in November, but…” a shrug. “It *feels* right.”

  Jean leaned on her arm and considered her roommate. “You know, I’m starting to think you’re pathologically weird. You actually have this condition that prevents you from acting normally.”

  “Define 'normal’,” said the girl with the green scales to the telepathic telekinetic.

  “Low blow, Sara Louise.”

  “Finish your homework, Jean Lisbett,” Sara chided.

  Which only served to piss her off. “Damnit. How the hell do you find this stuff out?”

  “I’m a grey-hat hacker. I only break into places for something to read.”

  Jean slumped. “God, it’s going to be an uphill battle to stop you getting *bored*…”

  “Home. Work.” She was ensconced in her niche, now, clicking away on her computer.

  Jean forced herself back to it. “Nnnngh… ow…”

  “Headache or muscular twinge?”

  “A little from column A, a little from column B.” Jean rolled her head. “Ow. And the thing with Duncan doesn’t help.”

  “Ever thought that Duncan, like cigarettes, might just be bad for you?” Sara emerged from her half, placed one hand on either of Jean’s shoulders, and *kneaded*.

  “Aaaaaahhh…” Just like that, she somehow *knew* where it hurt and how to fix it. “Ooooh, yeah. Do that forever an’ I’ll do anything…”

  Her hands worked up the sides of her neck. “Even embracing IDIC?”

  “I don’t 'do’ Star Trek.”

  “But at least you recognise it. Infinite Diversity, dear. That means accepting the little differences in everybody as part of the grand tapestry. There’s no such thing as Mr or Ms Average.”

  “…I think there’s an Edna Everage…” Jean mumbled.

  “Played by a man in drag,” Sara informed. “The point I’m trying to make is that an average person would be as much of a freak as everyone else.”

  But Jean was barely listening. Sara’s ministrations felt so goddamn *good*. “Ooooohhh… right there. *Uh*!”

  And at that moment, Logan kicked the door in.

  “Most people *knock*,” said Sara.

  He seemed most shocked to see them both in their clothes and far away from their beds. Jean gained the impression that she was a loud moaner… and Logan’s cerebellum had shorted directly in the hanky-panky sensors. “You were givin’ 'er a neck rub?”

  “She carries a lot of stress,” said Sara. “That, and her chakras are almost completely messed up. If I was a therapist, I could make my living off Jean… no offense.”

  “Just keep rubbing,” said Jean.

  Logan sighed. “Do me a favour, Tallwater?”

  “If possible.”

  “Quit giving me ulcers.”

  Sara’s smile went impish. “I *do* have a Daddy who loves me, you know. You don’t really have to fill in his position.”

  Logan, uncomfortable with Sara’s X-ray vision, changed the subject. “Lights out in ten, you two.”

~~

  It was midnight when the unsubtle vibrations of a nightmare rang in Jean’s head, waking her up.

  “No… Daddy, wake up… *please*… *DADDY*!”

  A jangle of fear, the cold-bath shock of consciousness. Sara’s rapid breathing in the night.

  Jean sat up, too. “Need a shoulder?” God, her shorthand was *catching*.

  “Please?”

  They both turned on a bedside lamp simultaneously. Jean shuffled into Sara’s bed-nook. “Just tell me this isn’t going to be a regular thing?”

  “Possibly a side-effect of compound stress,” said Sara. “Might be a long time wearing off. Sorry.”

  “So. What was going on?”

  Sara’s eyes became unfocussed, staring into memory. “There was a plane. Luxury class, near the front. Daddy was sleeping. There was a fight… behind him, somewhere. A man was going to take over the plane and make it crash. If he just woke up he could have stopped it before it got desperate, but… I shouted and shouted and he didn’t hear me…”

+

  _*DADDY*!_

  Sam blinked. Still on the plane. There was no way he could hear Sara from here. Even though he’d just heard her voice in his head, clear as a bell.

  There were further noises. Real ones. A small fracas concerning a man and a knife…

  He looked. He was fending off the flight attendants with the blade, pacing backwards towards the cockpit. Sam’s fogged brain finally recognized a minor Arabic dialect. Something about the glory of God and his transcendance through fire…

  At which point, he was in range. Sam aimed a blow to the man’s neck, turning him off. It was all over in seconds.

  “I’m going home,” he said, returning to his seat. “No arguments.” He closed his eyes and tried to relax while the attendants took care of the attempted highjacker.

  Sleep came easily.

+

  “…look at this logically, okay?” Jean was saying. “Your dad comes home in November, right?”

  “November the eleventh. Regular as clockwork.”

  “So what would he be doing on a plane in the middle of September?”

  “I don’t know. He was just - there.”

  “Well, it’s logically impossible, so can you *try* to get back to sleep?”

  “Sorry. It’s a not-at-all night. I’ll be quiet.”

  Jean sighed, rolled her eyes on the way back to bed, and fell asleep to the subtle mental murmurings of her roommate through her shields.

~