Jigsaw Rhapsody

[Magna Harrier]

If Alexander King could summarize the person in front of him, it would only come out to one word: Offensive.

Sergeant Larry Warhol, Paragon City Police Department, Head of the Hellion Task Force…. A lot of words SHOULD have flashed through Alex’s head, but all he could focus on was that damned cologne Warhol wore. The smell was offensive, like a soap factory that had forgotten to put their trash out for a month. The way it filled up the room was even worse; there was NO escaping it. And the idea that it could possibly attract women, somehow, was the most offensive thing of all.

Still, here Alexander was, stuck in the Sergeant’s office in Atlas Park, not too far from his own… being chewed out for doing his job.

The big man opposite him intoned on. “… Multiple cases of post-traumatic stress syndrome. One perp appearing to suffer from mild depression… and the big one… ‘Pitch’, was it?..... just keep staring at the wall and cursing, and rubbing his hands. Damn it King, what did you DO to them? They’re Hellions, I know, but they’re still people!”
If there was one thing Alex hated, it was explaining himself to the middle-man. “What I did, Sergeant, was subdue five members of an armed, mystically empowered gang, who were engaging in illegal acts of black magic. As your department’s advisor on magic related crime, I was under the impression it was my JOB. And, I might add, I did it without causing bodily injury to a single one of them.”

Warhol’s eyes narrowed in that way Alex had grown so tired of. “ Listen, King… I know your family and the city were in bed together, before the war. No one’s saying that we don’t value their… services. After all, everyone needs a place to be buried. But just because the city lets you parlay that into working in MY department, while, at the SAME TIME, carrying a damned hero’s card and letting you go play tights…”

King stood up rather abruptly. “Listen, Warhol. I’m only saying this once. You’re right…. I DO have odd powers. And those powers DO let me do things normal folks can’t. So yeah, if I want to ‘fight crime’, I DO need a hero’s card. Otherwise, it’s vigilantism.” Alex started to put on his coat. “That being said, I am employed through the city by MAGI… not your piddily department. I ADVISE you cops.. not work FOR you. So if you’re tired of me beating you to the punch, then get off your duff and work faster. But don’t you DARE ever mention my name and ‘tights’ in the same breathe. I do damned good work for this city, and I won’t be labeled some closet fetishist by you, or anyone else. Now, you may be some grand-high-muckitty-muck around here, but you’re not my boss, and you’re not my bosses’ boss, and this conversation has become personal. So we’re done.”

Doing his best ‘rogue cop who doesn’t play by the rules’ impersonation, Alex stormed out of the man’s office, and into the streets.

---------------------------------------------------------------

10 minutes of walking got him to the rail station, and another three of waiting. Sadly, it was longer than he had.
“Don’t let him get under your skin, man. He’s just some paper pusher who got jealous.” King attempted to calm himself… only making it worse, in the end. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he let go…. And took in the world around him.

As soon as he began to probe bystanders, he was immediately rewarded with snippets of thought from their errant thought.

“Did I bring enough change for a paper…”
“He’s right… they DO feel more roomy..”
“I should get tested…god, who was the last person I saw..”

Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Alex pulled his mind back into his own head. This was NOT who he was. It couldn’t be… not if he wanted to be normal.

As he boarded the train, his mind raced. Where would he be safe? Home? No…. to many errant minds, in to packed a space. His apartment in Talos was roomy, but still, it was an apartment.

Dawn Patrol HQ? Hell, no. There was no way he was dumping his personal problems on his superteam. He was a recent enough recruit that there was no reason to let on how … fixed.. he became, sometimes.

Bonny. “Damn,” he muttered, “hope she’s at home.”

Pulling out his cell phone from his vest, he dialed the number of his recent companion.

“Ms. Finnegan? Yes… yes, it’s me. Are you free tonight? There’s a lovely rooftop diner that could stand to be graced with you’re presence….”

[Alumette]

The ice burned, it was so cold. The redheaded heroine winced as she pressed the icepack to her swollen shoulder, with a sharp intake of breath. She thought of her sifu, and what he would likely say if he were here: “Pain is just fear leaving the body, Lara.” Eyes closed, she tried to slow her breathing and relax. Her training had been good, but she had always fought against similarly-trained opponents; i.e., ones who held to a code of good conduct and respect for fellow warriors. On the streets of Paragon, the common criminal held to no such code, as her many cuts and bruises would attest. She flopped onto the couch in her modest apartment in Galaxy and allowed herself a brief moment of self-pity. She was a failure, no matter how anyone looked at it. Guess she needed more training. Her eyes traveled to the small shrine in the corner of her living room, and the framed photo of her sigung that hung above it. The Chinese symbol for “perseverance” seemed to leap out at her from the shrine, and she smiled a little. No rest for the wicked. The phone rang.

“Bonny, baby! It’s Stella!” the woman’s voice was cheerful and sincere, although sandpapery from years of smoking and working in a bar—a gentleman’s club as she called it. Lara smiled.

“Hello, Stella,” she chuckled.

“You know, I’m sad to lose you,” Stella replied. “You were a favorite of some of my regulars, you know.” Lara took it as a compliment, even though it made her skin crawl. At least they respected her choice not to…provide services… as many of the other girls did. Still, those three years of dancing in Striga under the stage name ‘Bonny Morass’ had gotten her enough cash to go back to Hong Kong twice a year and continue her training with Sifu. And now she didn’t have to dance anymore—she had finally passed muster with City Hall to get her hero’s license.

“Stella, that’s sweet of you,” she said.

“I’ve got your last check here, if you want it,”

“Sure, Stella. I’ll be by in a couple of hours.”

She stepped into the shower, the hot water smarting against her cuts, but soothing her fatigued muscles. She let her mind wander as she rinsed the day’s work off of her, and wander it did… to Mr. King. She couldn’t quite explain why, but she felt incredibly comfortable around him. Odd that. The lists the city gave out to new heroes so they could start to build teaming networks were a crapshoot at best. But Mr. King had turned out to be a good teammate, and there was none of the awkwardness that usually accompanied Lara in social situations. Having had the childhood she’d had, it was no wonder she found it hard to relate to people. She chuckled. Mr. King was quite the oddball himself; perhaps that was the connection.

His mind-reading ability, while disconcerting to most people, was oddly comforting to Lara, for reasons she’d rather not think about. But it intrigued her. She stepped out of the shower and began toweling off when the phone rang. Speak of the devil.

“…I’d be delighted, Mr. King.”

[Magna Harrier]

As he waited outside the “Summer of Love” resteraunt, Alex couldn’t help but smile a little. Compared to the rest of the clientele, he was a bit on in years… “Like 29 is an old man, you moron”, he scolded himself. The door to the resteraunt opened and closed, and a trickle of college students from a nearby campus kept the restraint busy as could be expected for this late hour.

The sad part was, for all his earlier hysterics, the act of calling Bonny and heading down here had dragged him out of his funk… at least part-way. Alex watched a young pair of students stumble down the road… no doubt attempting to make it home to the dorms without being picked up by the cops. They were obviously plastered… and he practically flushed with the idea of their vulnerability.

A self-administered kick to the ankle stopped that line of thought. “You’re a hero, you sick degenerate. Heroes don’t look at HUMANS like that. HUMANS don’t look at humans like that. Only some freak like a mugger or rapist, in any case.”

Calming himself down, he leaned against the brick wall of the restraint and checked his watch. The resteraunt would be open much, much longer…. It’s 18 hour, rooftop dining facilities were a hit with locals and tourists alike. Truthfully, though… no one would be on the rooftop, braving the cold New England night. Not at this time of the night. Which was, he thought, perfect. He and Ms. Finnegan preferred their privacy anyways….

He almost laughed at himself. Like they had anything to be private about. Alex had met Bonny Morass during one of his earlier outings as a hero. The city had set them up in a team together through their rookie hero program.

He had waited in Galaxy for maybe 10 minutes before his first teammate had shown… Texan Wrangler. A large, handsome man, dressed like a rodeo-hand out of a traveling show, but in red, white, and blue. Alex wasn’t a fan of costumes…. His own choice of heroic gear was simply the dress pants and shirt he wore at work, plus a vest with a rune over the breast pocket….. but still, he had to admit, the Texan looked the part of the hero. More than he did, in any case. And MUCH different from their other partner….

Bonny Morass made her appearance soon after… and it took Alex a few minutes to find his tongue. The fledgling heroine had a body like a painting on the side of a World War II fighter plane, and an outfit that strained with the effort of flattering her figure as efficiently as it could, considering the scarcity of cloth. It was hard to tell if it was a costume…. Or simply a very revealing, oddly green, dress of some sort. The hot pants made him think “costume”, after they made him think a few other thoughts.

Thoughts that, as he reflected, he was mildly ashamed of. Despite her appearance, Bonny Morass has proven to be the exact opposite of the airhead he had originally taken her to be. On the contrary… she was quite complicated. “A lot of emotional baggage”, would be a term some might use…. But to Alex, all it meant was that she had the depth of character to HAVE such issues. And a coy nature that, oddly, both clashed with and highlighted her manner of dress.

And , honestly, who could resist a challenge like that?

Still, the two of them hadn’t taken long to take to each other…. The aftermath of their first few missions found them talking over reports in city hall…. And then, in the courtyards of Atlas park…. And then dinner….

And for all that talking ,and all that socializing, somehow, Alex still didn’t know what to call her. Friend, at least…. And more than that. There was SOMETHING there. But, at the same time, there was no way to really call it “dating”. At the end of the night, there wasn’t even the hint of a goodnight kiss. There was mutual respect, maybe some concern…. And the physical attraction, on his part. But somehow, they just didn’t mesh into any term that society had cranked out yet.

Alex was shaken from his overly involved inner monologue by a shadow in the streetlamp. “Cruising the streets for an easy mark again, Mr. King?”, came a pleasantly familiar voice.

“Spot on, Ms. Finnegan. In fact, I think I may JUST be in luck….”, Alex said, smirking in a way that unnerved most passers-by like the sight of a poisonous snake. “Care to join me on the roof?”

[Alumette]

Lara grinned. "It would be my pleasure, Mr. King." she said, grateful for the privacy a rooftop table would afford them.

They were seated at a comfortable table with a nice view of a small park, and, as suspected, were the only ones in the section. Everything in Lara told her she should be apprehensive around Mr. King, but she wasn't. He seemed to be continually hungering for something; there was a predatory air about him that, while not overtly sexual, was still deeply personal and unsettling. Or at least, it should have been, but again, Lara felt oddly comforted by it. Perhaps it was because his telepathy presented a unique opportunity: a way to get close to someone without actually having to engage them socially. Lara, for all her good looks, was very shy around people. Given the unique situation in which she was raised, it was understandable.

And, perhaps, her old hope of finding some latent telepathic ability within herself fed into it too... not that she'd admit it to herself. She glanced up from her menu to see Mr. King leering at her. She smiled gently. She felt it, just under the surface: there was some sort of urge there that he seemed to be wrestling with. The waitress interrupted her contemplation. They ordered. Alex requested an almost dainty amount of food: a simple salad with chicken. Lara, on the other hand, asked for a double order of fettucine alfredo, a filet mignon--exceedingly rare--with mashed potatoes, a salad, and a slice of cheesecake. She could really put it away. Of course, with the rigorous training schedule she kept herself to, she needed those calories. Her training pretty much consumed her non-heroing hours.

As they engaged in idle chatter waiting for their food to arrive, Lara tried to piece together what it was that drew her to Mr. King. Why she trusted him was anyone's guess. But in his odd way he seemed to be a good candidate for a friend, which she was not afraid to admit she needed. His mental abilities fascinated her, and eventually she turned the conversation to that subject. It seemed to make him simultaneously uncomfortable and intrigued, as if he were a child within reach of an unguarded cookie jar. Still, he reveled in telling her half-veiled hints of what he was capable of, in the form of nostalgia for his days experimenting with his powers: running with a crowd of New Orleans voodoo practitioners, years spent in college with the telepathic equivalent of a drug crowd... it seemed like forbidden fruit to Lara, who'd been raised by ascetics with a value to perfecting the practice of a holistic fighting art.

"I can't dream, Mr. King," she said, smiling. "Haven't since I can remember." He seemed surprised, almost seeing it as a challenge. She shrugged. "It doesn't really bother me, but it is kind of odd." And then she did something that surprised them both: she invited him into her head, basically giving him carte blanche to dip into her mind whenever he wanted. He didn't even know her real first name and yet here she was, offering her whole mind to him completely, no questions asked.

She had no idea what compelled her to trust him so completely, but she felt no qualms about it whatsoever.

[Magna Harrier]

There are a great many kinds of “addiction” floating around in today’s society. There are equally large numbers of methods in order to “treat” these addictions. Most experts will agree, however, that seldom does one overcome a crippling need by indulging it.

So it took a few moments for Alex to collect himself once he realized he had plunged into his companion’s psyche without the slightest hesitation. As soon as she had bid him enter, Alex’s mind had snapped up the opportunity before he could talk himself out of it.

“Well, nothing to do about it now.” Alex mused, more than a little giddy at the prospect. He so seldom indulged his hungers on non-criminals these days… and the prospect of a WILLING partner in crime…..

But if it was willing… then what WAS the crime? He had been invited in, not forced his way in, as was his usual method. And while he was unsure what Ms. Finnegan wanted him to do, he was fairly certain psychic torture wasn’t part of it. She was odd, he knew, but certainly not THAT odd.

“Well, might as well get my bearings.” Alex relaxed, and pressed and folded his consciousness in on itself. He didn’t want his stray thoughts to affect his surroundings without him knowing.

Looking around him, he was surprised to see a swirling pattern of thought and color…. A much more orderly sight than he was used to. Most folks, before their thoughts were focused into a mental scenario, had mindscapes like a broken TV… all color and static. Bonny’s mind, while not exactly the model of efficiency, was a fascinating mixture of five or six colors, which seemed to flow along preset tracks…. Like paint flowing through an eroded riverbank towards the bay. The channels ebbed and flowed, splitting off, branching, and then merging back together at countless points.

“So, it looks like Ms. Finnegan has been holding out on me…..” It was as if her mindscape had ALREADY been shaped before his arrival. But that was, impossible… wasn’t it? Only folks with mental skills could shape their minds to such a refined level.

Or could they? As much as Alexander prided himself on his mastery of mental magic, he was still so ignorant of those born with natural psychic talent… mutants. And if the mind could evolve thus NATURALLY, who was to say the average human could not do so, to some extent, on it’s own?

What if he were to plunge his hand into one of these luminous streams? Or, even worse, DRINK from one of them? COULD he drink from them? Would he be stealing memories, or simply borrowing them?

For that matter… what could he learn from this opportunity? Alex usually had to claw and pry at his victim’s minds, prying his way into their mind, and warping their thoughts against them. The very thought that he had free reign of his… host…..

The word “host” shook Alex out of his reverie. “Host. HOST? Like some sort of goddamned parasite? Is that what I am? Is that how I repay trust… by pilfering her mind like some sort of criminal? Or ANIMAL?

No. No, that was not why he had returned to Paragon… and it wasn’t why he had decided to turn his life to heroics… and it CERTAINLY wasn’t why he continued to see Bonny outside of their time together crime fighting.

He was a hero. A HERO, dammit. A hero wouldn’t betray trust given so freely. No, a hero would repay that trust. And, he mused, learning the source of what was hampering Bonnie's dreams.... or even getting rid of it..would be an excellent start.

“Well, Alex…. If you’re ready to stop playing Phantom of the Mindscape, maybe you should get your head out of your proverbial rear end and get to work. First, a place to stand. Can’t have the nice lady walking on mental sand in her heels.”

Allowing his mental presence to spread a bit further, Alex drew some errant mental landscape together, and focused. The “sand” melted into a puddle of shimmering purple liquid…. And then expanded.

A puddle became a pool… which expanded on the peripheral to become a square. Walls rose from the edges, and joined overhead to create of roof. Within seconds, a log cabin had formed in the seemingly endless landscape of mental channels.

Alex projected his “voice” outwards. “Well, Ms. Finnegan… I think now would be an ideal time for you to join me. You are the host of this little party, after all. Now, I’m going to need you to focus… and try to picture yourself in a shape you feel TRULY reflects your inner self. I’ll help you with the rough spots, so let’s begin….”

[Alumette]

It was...nice, having him in her head. Strange, but nice. She wasn't quite sure what he was doing in there but it didn't matter. It was kind of fun. She smiled, down to her last few bites of cheesecake. "You gonna eat that?" she asked him, pointing at a portion of chicken still on his plate. He waved it away dismissively, indicating that he was finished. Lara reached over and picked it up with her fork, transferring it to her plate. It was astonishing how much she could eat. A little frightening, actually.

"...try to picture yourself in a shape you feel TRULY reflects your inner self..." She didn't know if she could really do that, but it was worth a try. She concentrated, and in her mind' eye she visualized first a cold, empty starscape. After a few seconds, the stars coalesced together, and then went black--and a fragile butterfly was in its place, flitting about the log cabin Alex had constructed. "Like that, Mr. King?" she asked nervously.

"Interesting," he said. "Is that how you truly see yourself?"

"Yes."

Alex had seen her go toe-to-toe with thugs twice her size, and while she definitely had the agility, there was nothing fragile about how she handled them. That she chose this image for herself was a surprise indeed; although, he was beginning to discover that there was very little about Ms. Finnegan that was predictable.

They continued on in this way for some time, just starting with some basic images and getting used to connecting mentally, before the check arrived and brought them back to reality.

Lara was fascinated with his ability. In a way, what they'd done reminded her of her mom, minus the burning guilt. Still, he seemed edgy. Less so than normal, but edgy nonetheless. "Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes. Just tired. I haven't been sleeping much lately... too much noise in my apartment."

Lara made a face. "Yeesh. Noisy neighbors?"

"You could say that," Alex said, tapping his forehead with a finger. "All those people, packed in around me like that," he said, his hands shaking a bit. "My building is quite full, and when they sleep, and their consciousness drops, I... there're just so many minds to..." he seemed at once eager and repulsed by the idea. "It's hard to shut them all out," he finally added.

"Well, my building is quiet," she offered. He seemed so lost in so many ways, to her. After what he'd told her about Astoria, and his apparent 'need' for mental contact. He seemed like a hungry wolf; at once dangerous and vulnerable, conflicted between instinct and cunning. "There are a lot of empty units. Might cut down on the mental noise for you a bit," she smiled. "And my couch is quite comfortable."

[Magna Harrier]

After more then half an hour of mutually consenting mental contact, Alex was at a crossroads when the check came. Most “walks down memory lane” he took involved brief contact… maybe twenty seconds or so… and were about the equivalent of sticking a raw egg in a drying machine with a load of gravel. Most folks weren’t exactly up for a marathon session of… five minutes. Much less the near hour he and Bonny had just gone through.

Then again, he had never really tried to use his powers for anything less than offensive means. Well, that wasn’t true. He’d had some basic training in the matter… he considered himself a pro in his field, and he’d feel more than a little embarrassed if he couldn’t manage a little finesse. Bonny had proven more than adept at picking up his mental prodding, and responding in kind… within normal human limits. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about her mindscape seemed… prepared. Somehow, someway, she looked to have some rudimentary mental acumen.

So it was more than a little regret that he ended their session, and attempted to withdraw back into his own head. He got most of the way “back in”… and, for lack of a better turn, hit a “snag”. After so long a period of close contact, his mind had apparently decided that it was quite comfortable as is, thank-you-very-much. Smiling in his usual insipid way, he palmed a steak knife under the table and squeezed the blade hard into his palm. The sudden pain was enough to shock him out of his reverie, and fully back into his own mind.

He managed to casually confirm his lack of anything more than a flesh wound in time to catch Bonny’s question concerning his condition. Managing another smile, he recounted his apartment issue… too many minds, not enough control. It was like locking an alcoholic in a ABC store overnight, and leaving all the caps off the bottles.

When he heard her invite, it took him a mere 10 seconds to get any dirty suppositions out of his mind… a respectable amount, as far as he was concerned. “Oh, I suppose, if you insist, I simply MUST see this wonderland you speak of. Just one question?”

“Hmm?” Lara asked through a mouthful of after-dinner mint.

“Well, I’m going out on a limb, and assuming that since your last name isn’t Morass, Bonny is a little embellishment as well. Dare I ask…?”

The redhead smiled in a way that made his very glad he had dared. “… it’s Lara.” She said, a little flushed.

‘Persevere, Alex’, he told himself, scolding his overactive imagination.
“That’s a lovely name. "It really fits you.”, is what he managed to get out.

Standing up, he removed the napkin from his lap and waived to the waiter. “Shall we?”

******************************************

It was only once they had arrived at her place that Alex began to wonder if this was indeed the haven from temptation he had been lead to believe. While his friend changed out of her work clothes into something more comfortable (And he was NOT going to follow that mental tangent), he took in the room around him for anything else to focus on besides the temptation of mentally linking to his new friend’s visual center while she….

“Okaaaaay, where’s the bathroom?”, he asked himself, looking around for whatever door seemed the most likely choice. It proved a rather simple endeavor.. the place was even more Spartan than his own apartment. He could her .. Lara… shuffling around behind the door closest to him, so that was out. The area he was in seemed to be some sort of combo of a living room and kitchenette. A small nook held what had to be a dining area, and his legs were brushing up against what felt like, as promised, a VERY comfortable couch.

The only other things of note were a pair of very odd choices for corner ornamentation…. A large wooden training dummy, which was thoroughly worn from use, and a weighted punching back that hung from a metal stand in the opposite corner. For such a overtly feminine looking person, Bon..Lara… had quite the rough side.

“And that’s enough of THAT.” He told himself, when his eye caught something else more than a little out of the ordinary.. a small wooden stand.. no, not a stand… more like.. a shrine?

Hoping he wasn’t being more nosey than usual, Alex examined the picture that rested on the shrine… a framed picture of an elderly Asian man, who looked more serene than Alex had seen anyone in a LONG time. From off to his right, a sharp, distinctive smell led his eyes to a canister of incense stick that, if he remembered his TV-taught Asian culture lesson, had some significance to the deceased. He thought.

Which left the last door… that MUST be the bathroom. Indeed, his junior detective-level skills paid off… it was nice to get his face wet, and get the grime of the city off his hands. And then a thought dawned on him…. He had forgotten a change of clothes.

“Dang”, he cursed to himself. He didn’t have work the next day, thankfully, so that wasn’t an issue. Still he hated the idea of sleeping in his clothes. Oh well… nothing to be done now. At the very least, he could take his vest and tie off, and loosen his collar.

He plopped down on the couch and enjoyed the lack of pressure on his neck. Hopefully, his attempts to keep his clothes clean wouldn’t be misinterpreted… but he really DID like that vest. Leaning back, he enjoyed the relative silence, and let is all soak in while he waited for Lara.

[Alumette]

No doubt Mrs. Harrison was peering out her peephole this very moment. With Lara being the only person in the building, her movements were exceptionally intriguing to the aging landlady. Surely, Lara thought, now that she was bringing a man home with her, Mrs. Harrison would have all sorts of ideas; although Lara couldn't figure out what the big deal was. He seemed nice enough, and he was unhappy where he was, so she did the hospitable thing.

Mrs. Harrison was intrigued by the brief view of Alex she'd gotten through the peephole as he and Lara walked past. He definitely gave her the creeps... he had to be up to no good, and out for only one thing, she could see it in his eyes. For a moment Mrs. Harrison wondered if she should worry about Lara, but then her mind flashed to an afternoon a few weeks ago, when Lara had handily dispatched 4 Outcasts with her bare hands right outside their building, thereby saving Mrs. Harrison's purse and her safety. The girl could take care of herself, and her execution of lightning-quick moves demonstrated a level of training that finally explained, for Mrs. Harrison, the odd noises that seemed to come from Lara's apartment over the course of each day. Still, she was certain this fellow would try something, and if it was unwelcome, she hoped he had medical insurance.

What was likely on Mrs. Harrison's mind, and most presumably on Alex's, was the last thing on Lara's. As Alex would soon find out, Lara was generally oblivious to what society would consider the normal relationship cues. So while most women would know precisely what inviting a man into their home for the evening "meant," Lara simply saw it as a practical solution to a problem that was causing her friend discomfort. Her heart did often skip a beat when she was in his presence, but she was completely unaware that it was doing so. Although her education was sufficient, and in some areas it was abundant; there were certain aspects of social culture where she'd received no education at all. A Shaolin monastery isn't exactly the model environment for picking up dating cues.

Lara emerged from her room looking far less heroic than before. Her striking red hair was pulled back from her face in a loose, low ponytail, and instead of her usual dramatic heroing costume, she wore a pair of jade green silk pajama pants and a very worn grey sweatshirt. Her feet were bare, and Alex was amused to see that her toenails were painted a modest gingery tropical shade. She smiled, and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "You found the couch," she said. "Please, be comfortable, although you look to have already accomplished that," she smiled. "You and your mind-reading."

Alex seemed to flinch, a guilty look crossing his face, before realizing that Lara was kidding. She had no idea what his mind had been up to while she was changing clothes. "Can I get you anything?" she asked, "Tea?" She was already setting up the tea kettle before he answered. He was her guest, it was polite to offer. Alex smiled, watching her as she arranged two cups and a teapot on a tray; preparing the tea from a large tin of loose tea leaves, decorated with Chinese characters.

While the kettle was heating, Lara disappeared into her room and returned a few moments later with a pillow and a cheerfully-patterned comforter. "I hope you don't mind," she said, "but these are all I have. They smell like girl, I'm afraid," she said apologetically. "But I don't want you to get cold." It took Alex a nanosecond to realize she'd taken the items off of her own bed. She busied herself with arranging the linens on the couch. "Lara," he began, "I don't want to--"

Just then the tea kettle whistled. "Oh! Tea's on!" she said happily, crossing to finish the preparations. In her heart and mind, she was so happy to have company; most importantly, company she felt comfortable with.

They sipped their tea and talked a bit more, enjoying one another's company. Alex found out a bit more about her family, and it illuminated a few things for him; most notably why her mental landscape was as he had found it, why her martial arts prowess was as considerable as it was, and why she didn't really seem to have anyone to go to here in Paragon--except maybe Stella, and Alex had a feeling Lara didn't want to maintain that tie for too much longer. Still, their conversation provided no clues as to why she hadn't had a dream in over 15 years.

The time seemed to go by far too quickly, and Lara patted back a petite yawn. "I need to hit the sack, Alex," she said. "Is there anything you need?"

"I'm quite comfortable, thanks," he smiled as she bustled about cleaning up the tea things. "It is definitely much quieter here than at my place." The thought of being alone in the silence with her mind, open to him as she slept, and with her permission, enticed him; although he quickly squashed that thought--reluctantly.

"I'm up at 4:30 every morning to start training," she said. "I'll try to be quiet." She smiled a completely disarming, genuine smile, and then crossed to the shrine. Taking out three sticks of incense, she knelt before the shrine, lighting them. She held them over her head and bowed three times, standing the incense sticks upright in a small ash-filled bowl on the shrine. The warm, clean smell of joss wafted through the apartment, and as it did so, Lara kowtowed, pausing a moment, before rising to her feet. "Goodnight, Mr. King," she said, and disappeared into her bedroom.

[Magna Harrier]

It had been a little more than hour since Lara had departed into her bedroom, and Alex had “hit the sack”. It hadn’t taken too long for his nerves to settle down from the day’s events, and, surprisingly, he was feeling fairly well at ease, as far as his surroundings were concerned. Now he just had to get to sleep….

Granted, he had made the choice to come to this little sleepover knowing full well that nothing PG-13 to NC-17 was likely to happen. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment… he had respect for Lara Finnegan that was steadily getting deeper, but there was a reason he wasn’t running around with the name “Archbishop King”. Still, nothing to do about it now.

Which left him with issue number two: His clothes. Alex, after a day of getting down and funky with his psychomantic self, was not exactly feeling zestfully clean. The Hellions has worked him into a sweat, and while he was hardly “ripe”, he could use a rinse.

He perked his ears up, and listened for… yes, there it was, clear as day… the sound of one superheroine, steadily sawing logs in the room next to him. Well, as much fun as it would be to be “walked in on”, his life hardly seemed to be that sort of movie these days, so, all in all, might as well take the opportunity not to disturb her with his hygienic hijinks.

Doing his best “I am one with the night” routine, and ending up looking more like Wiley E Coyote, he tiptoed to the bathroom, and slipped in.

*********************************************

A half an hour later, Alex emerged from the steaming bathroom a much happier superhero. He could never get to bed without showering first, and sleeping in his clothes was simply NOT going to work. Now, all he had to do was keep his boxers and undershirt on, and he could remain somewhat decent. Besides, all he had to do was wait until Lara left for her training, and slip into his clothes, and viola! None the wiser!

Settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh, he glanced over at the clock. 1:30 in the AM. So he had a good few hours to sleep before his curvy kung-fu comrade emerged from her bedroom. Plenty of time.

Closing his eyes, he thought back over the day. A gang of hellions rounded up, a co-worker irked to all get out, a pretty decent dinner, some lovely company…. And silence. Blessed. Mental. Silence. Only himself… and Lara, next door.

“Well, she DID say I could stop in for a bite if I needed to…”, he grinned to himself. And then bolted upright.

“No, dammit. You can go one night without justifying your sick little hang-up. She might not have known what she was saying, when she said … what she said. You can ask her tomorrow.”

Feeling rather guilty, and smelling for all the world like women’s hygiene products, Alex drifted into a peaceful slumber.

********************************************
Alex dreamed of turtles.

********************************************

He awoke to the pleasant smell of eggs cooking on the range of the apartment’s kitchenette, and some sort of… baking smell. Sourdough. HAD to be. He’d know the smell anywhere. And some sort of meat he couldn’t place….
His eyes popped open, realizing just how late he had overslept, reaching over to his jacket, he pulled his wristwatch from the pocket he had placed it into the night before. 6:30. Phew. He had a bit before he had to be into work.

“Well, good morning, Mr. King.”, Lara’s voice greeted him before he caught sight of here, bustling throughout the kitchen in a way that made him feel very glad to be alive. “So… how do your like your eggs?”

“Ummmm… edible, I suppose. Is that okay?” Alex said, gathering his clothes to the side of the couch. “If you could just keep facing that way…?”

“Huh?”, Lara said, turning around to catch the site of Alex sprinting into the bathroom as speeds that would have classified him as superhuman, even WITHOUT his mental powers.

Slipping into the kitchen a minute or two later, Alex greeted Lara with a pleasant smile, and thanked her in a graciously redundant matter for her hospitality. Over breakfast, he managed to squeeze the details of her morning training session out of her, and get a conformation that no, the elderly woman he sensed lurking outside her door was NOT casing the joint, and she did NOT need to develop an improper mental reaction to the smell of mustard.

After a light breakfast, and another half an hour of talking with Lara over her attempt to horde up nutrition for an apparent one week trip through Siberia, Alex checked his phone… and was surprised to find a message from his “beloved” boss, Azuria, waiting for him.

“Alexander, this is Azuria. Listen, I know it’s early, but the police have pulled a body out of Talos Harbor, down near spanky, and it covered with what the cops are calling “runes”. I’m sure it’s just some rather rough knife work, but since you live down there and all… would you mind joining them and giving them a professional analysis, so we can get them off our backs? Meet Officer Hortia down at Spanky’s at nine… and don’t be late.”

Alex swore under his breath. He wasn’t really pressed for time, but he had hoped to stretch the morning out a bit. God knows when he would have this chance again. But now he would have to add the commute down to Talos into his schedule… he had hoped to get an EARLY morning, with the shortened trip from Lara’s Galaxy apartment to Atlas.

“Well, B… Lara…. I’ve got work waiting for me, it seems, for which I SINCERELY apologize. So, how about I take my leave for the morning, and bid you good day?”

[Alumette]

Things had been progressing steadily with the odd couple. Alex regularly woke up on Lara's couch, feeling refreshed and well-rested; and no longer smelling like Vanilla Jasmine Skin-Softening bath gel. By this time he had managed to keep a stash of his own toiletries at her place, and a couple changes of clothes.

Still, he was waking up every morning on the couch.

Their habit of going to dinner after missions, and their newfound levels of mental intimacy, would appear for all observers as if they were dating. Yet not even the hint of a kiss ever seemed to hover between them. They had exchanged apartment keys--although for reasons of mental serenity Alex usually ended up at her place.

Still, he was waking up every morning on the couch.

************************************************** **********

Lara tied her hair back and stepped onto the lei tai, stretching her arms out and rolling her shoulders a bit. She smiled across the way at Chris. It had been a long time. "A Hero of the City now, eh?" she said. "I'm impressed!"

Chris chuckled. "A lot of time has gone by, Lara," he said, shifting the grip on his staff. "Still, it's good to see you." He positioned himself into a ready fighting stance. "Let's see what you've got," he grinned.

And it was on like Donkey Kong.