(no subject)
Note: This was written during one of the Ubiq plots which I don't recall the resolution to.
(Dis)information
Finding a place to start was ever the hardest part of anything, Norelle reflected as she studied some of the displays at the Powers that Be exhibit. Displaced Men could come from any of these -- entire possible that some descendants from alternate universes could wreak havoc as well.
That thought, plus a few steps, brought her right to the crux of several of her problems: the Secret's old pistols were there in a case in front of her, the glass repaired after her uncle's use of the guns in a pinch.
Could her grandfather be one of Ubiq's Displaced Men somewhere, sometime? And Dave...
Norelle signed, and a snatch of teenage conversation drifted to her ears. "That's gotta be why he's still alive!"
"It's a tabloid. They never get anything right."
"But the Secret's got to be like a hundred by now." The one insisting was a spiky-haired blond boy with glasses. He was gesturing wildly at the case holding the pistols.
"Maybe he's just an alien with a longer lifespan," Norelle offered dryly. "But then, your government would have pitched a fit during that era -- however, it's as plausible as any other theory."
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I have no idea when I wrote this, or what I was getting at with it. It's AU Futurefic written prior to the end of CC
Simulator Training
Retro-style buzzsaws whirled through a complicated pattern with pendulum slicers and hidden traps -- a game of 'Save the Citizen!' as it had been dubbed by Kid Urizen in a moment of snark.
A blur of blue and white zipped through the deadly forest, then was knocked flying by a catapulted steel ball from behind. The blur resolved into a dazed-looking speedster.
"Toldja to watch your back," the shadows said. The speaker became clear after a moment: perched on one of the swinging knives, the other young boy -- or girl, the figure wore a full-face mask -- was twirling a pair of old-fashioned pistols around their fingers.
These were written at random times through the years I had Jamie. It shows. The first one was written after she'd vanished in a temporal (nonTimewriter) disturbance. The second, I have no idea -- I think, by context, it was after her death.
Medical School
The medical school allowed her back in without question, though Jamie suspected it was larely the interest in having her as a research subject over her skills as a resident. Even in Crucible, temporal distortions and their effects were rarely studied from either the psychological or physiological aspects.
She settled into her quiet carrel with a cup of coffee, looking at the once-again blank walls. No pictures of Stephen, Bernadette and she goofing off anymore -- she supposed that Bern had picked her things up, or they'd been put away or otherwise disposed of. None of the articles she'd collected about John were left, only the placard with her name.
"Jamie?" The voice was one of her fellow residents, sounding partly awed, partly scared, and a bit hopeful. "You're really alive!"
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Next one was tied in with the Norelle-Ubiq one, which must've been after TW killed Jamie. I wish I could remember more of that plot...
The clinical part of her mind was cataloguing everything, even as her power moved to try to heal the flesh being eaten away by the temporal field. Mental doctor's notes, she mused. Ha.
She let her mind die away, fading into darkness.
...
When she awoke, it was the screaming that did it. Darkness surrounded her, and her hearing was muffled. It was still her own voice that she heard screaming, and phantom pain trembled along her nerves.
Laurence. It had to be him. She reached for power to heal herself... and found none. The lights came on, and it was not her foster-father who looked at her, but a stranger.
"You have become displaced from time, Jamie Nightengale."
Calandre March was the root of it again, Jamie found. Not only displaced, but she'd had her molecules spread all over the timeline -- and her new benefactor had reassembled them. She hated to owe anyone anything; Laurence and Vivian often teased her about it, but the fact remained that she didn't consider what she did anything but 'what had to be done', and yet, if others helped her, she felt obligated to them.
And so it was with Ubiq, and his tale of the timeline's troubles.
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I'm twitching as I'm typing this up. What was I thinking?! For those of you who don't read manga, Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne was written by Tanemura Arina, and featured a character who was the reincarnation of Jeanne d'Arc. It's a really good series.
Consider this: a man left alone with a son who couldn't -- or didn't want to -- understand that his mother had left him. The calm, loving blanket that had been their family center had been torn apart, leaving shreds and, worse, thin threads that cut at the memory.
And yet, the man had once been happy, had had no need for the mask of cheer that he wore daily.
***
Even as a child, he'd always been fussed over by women; Nagoya Kaiki, the only son of Nagoya Seiki, was a quiet, happy and overall adorable child.
His mother, a social butterfly and a bright spot of color against his father's more somber sucess, cossetted him and cared for him, never allowing any need or want to go unfulfilled.
"You are my dear Kaiki," she told him, smile gently down at him as she ruffled his hair. "I love you. I always will."
***
A shriek of outrage broke the relative quiet of the playground, and the reverie that Kaiki had fallen into shattered. He stood up, dusting off his hands on his pants as he trotted towards the sound.
Mother had decided that he was old enough, at nine, to go across to the park and play on the swings there. Of course, he usually read while he was there, as the children in their area were all too young to really talk with.
The source of the shriek was readily apparent as he came around a large play structure. A girl, perhaps his own age, perhaps a year or two younger -- Kaiki had never been much of a judge -- was in the process of kicking a boy twice her size in the shins. In a world where most of the women and girls he'd met were demure, quiet and well-bred, this was a novel sight.
The boy, amongst winces and scattered yelps (the girl hadn't let up kicking him), managed to catch the girl's wrist. She struggled, and Kaiki could see her wince. He started running, dropping the book he'd planned on reading behind him. No-one was supposed to treat girls that way!
"Let her go!"
His shout was enough of a distraction for the girl to wrench her arm free. Her face, flushed with anger and embarrassment, fixed momentarily on him, then returned to the bigger boy. She drew her leg back for another kick, then let fly.
Kaiki stumbled to a halt, wincing. That girl, whoever she was, fought dirty. He could almost feel sympathy for the boy, save that he'd been hurting a girl.
"Thanks!" The words were dry, though a trickle of amusement was audible in her tone. "For distracting him, I mean." She prodded the groaning, whining boy with the toe of her shoe.
"Anything for a girl. At least, that's what Father says," Kaiki replied, nodding. "Is your wrist all right?"
She glanced down at her wrist, the joint already beginning to grow puffy and red. She looked up again, and shook her head. "I think he wrenched it. Stupid boy." She looked ready to kick the downed boy again.
"Let me see. Father's a doctor-" Inestimable pride prompted a broad smile. "-and I've watched him so maybe I can help you." He poked at the redded areas gently, as he'd seen his father do at times, then sighed. "I wish I knew more about this..." He released her hand. "... but I know that ice will help." Father always prescribed ice for things like this, didn't he?
She stared at him for a moment, her blue eyes wide in what seemed to be admiration. That idea was quickly dissolved as she began to giggle at him. Between fits of laughter, she managed to gasp out a coherent sentence. "You sounded so silly! All grown up and stuffy!"
He blinked for a moment, then laughed. Laughter was rare for him; smiles he shared in abundance, but true mirth was unusual. This girl had managed to provoke it with perfect ease.
Once the pair of them subsided into mere smiles, Kaiki bowed low. "Thank you." Let her interpret that as she would. "I'm Nagoya Kaiki."
The bully had taken his chance to escape, leaving only the red marks on the girl's wrist as proof that he'd been there. She looked disappointed, somehow, that he'd gone. "I'm Sugimoto Mizuki."
She seemed to know that there was more that he'd wanted to say, but she merely smiled at him. He felt himself relaxing. She was a girl, true, but she seemed different from the usual ones.
Unfortunately, she left soon after, as her parents showed up to take her home.
***
Girls began to notice him early, giving him chocolates and notes on St. Valentine's Day.
Pampered and brought up to the knowledge that he was handsome, with his ego boosted by the girls' attention, Kaiki had no trouble flirting with them. Somehow, though, none quite made into the quiet, secret places of his heart. None made him laugh out of simple mirth..
And so, Nagoya Kaiki made his way through life, wearing emotions like filmy clothes and yet hiding his heart behind armor.
***
"Medical school. Good for you, Kaiki. You'll be able to take over my practice when you graduate."
He wanted to protest, wanted to deny that his future was so planned out and so easy to take. For a boy who had never had to work for anything, Kaiki's sudden wish to rebel was something he had no way of dealing with.
And so he merely stood there in front of his father's heavy wooden desk and surrounded by the musty books that had once seemed to hold all the mysteries of the world, and all he could do was nod mutely, then leave as quietly as he'd come.
It was no consolation, he mused, that he did in fact want to go to medical school. To don the white coat of someone who helped people would bring about a change, hekew. Somehow, it would open something hidden away inside of him, under lock and key.
He studied his reflection in the small mirror over his wardrobe. Brown eyes. Dark hair. The same solemn expression he knew was natural when he was not wearing one of his public masks. And yet, he felt as though something had changed.
He left the mirror, never realizing that not all changes are physical. The world was not as simple as it had been only moments before.
***
His mother, once so bright a flame against the day-to-day murmur and dullness, was flickering out. She no longer was a constant, steady presence in Kaiki's life; she was weakning and his father became all the more distant as he struggled against his wife's slow death.
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