Marked Target ~ Chapter Five ~ by: Danielle Krieger (c) 2011 Lawrence "Lex" McKinley lives about as average a life as one can with metahumans popping up everywhere. Well, as normal as someone who spends their free time as an MMA fighter really can. He's about to get the shock of his life--the punch he never saw coming. In this installment: Two months pass. Lex's training intensifies. There are two discoveries brought before her. She learns, the hard way, that not all surprises are good ones.

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DISCLAIMER :: This is a retroactive continuity. A “ret-con”, if you will. It follows other stories in Lilith Langtree’s “Comics RetCon Universe”. The story is mine, but some of the characters are not. This is a RetCon of X-23, from Marvel Comics’ X-men (with a special guest appearance from Dr. Hank McCoy). Laura Kinney, X-23, and Dr. Henry Philip “Hank” McCoy, Beast, are trademarks of Marvel Comics. All rights reserved. The pic, this time, has been brought to you, again, by the incredibly talented Mike Choi.

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Chapter Five:

When you’re not looking, two months can fly by like the blink of an eye. In a week, it would be Halloween. That kept getting updated to me whenever most people saw my wardrobe and disapproved of the whole Goth theme. I just rolled my eyes and kept moving on. At the very least, guys weren’t wolf whistling at me nor did they make catcalls like they did in the mall when I was with Rachel. The look was received as somewhat intimidating. That was a relief. Thankfully, they were nowhere to be seen when I made my morning journey to Hao Lai.

It gets cold really quickly in Seattle. One day, it was a comfortable seventy-eight degrees. The next day, it dropped to fifty-six and hadn’t gotten above that since. Not to mention, the wind that whips through the buildings in downtown can knock you over if you’re not careful and the rain will sometimes come in sideways, completely bypassing your umbrella. I had taken it upon myself to get a nice, warm coat made of polar fleece that “naturally” repels water (synthetic material). Since it was a trenchcoat, it reached to my knees and my boots covered the rest. Even with that, there was still the chill that might seep through. Rachel had made a suggestion that I immediately refuted the first time she mentioned it. However, circumstances as they were, there was finally some compromise. Yes, I was wearing tights under my jeans, along with a hoodie under my coat. You’d be surprised how warm they keep me. I don’t remember ever being this sensitive to the cold and often wondered why I was much more susceptible to it.

On the other hand, living in the progenitor and world headquarters of Starbucks had its advantages. Not only is the hot chocolate just heavenly when you’re chilled to the bone, but the wake up call from a triple shot of espresso is pretty nice. Having to wake up at what I have come to call as “Oh-God-thirty” in the morning to be at the academy by sunrise, I had started consuming mass quantities of coffee. Being too exhausted to think about a shower when I got back to Mike and Steven’s place after a full-day workout, the shower time had moved to the morning. In those days, I had to worry about allowing enough time to dry the mass of hair on my head before heading out the door.

In the beginning, the workouts were fairly simple. Shifu and I would run through the taolu over and over again. However, my lack of muscle memory had obviously made me sloppy. He broke out his gun again and I can’t count how many times he’d hit me with that stupid stick. After the first couple of days, he quickly learned that I did not tire as quickly as his other students would. Thus, he took things to the next level. For the next month, every time I missed a movement he would initiate a sparring match between the two of us after the obligatory smack with his gun. To say he pounded me into the ground would be an understatement. I used to be able to hold my own in a sparring match with the man. Now, he tossed me around like his favorite throw pillow. It encouraged me to get better much more quickly.

As if to add insult to injury, he formulated another plan within the first week. Finally, the unfamiliar young woman who had greeted Mike and I when we first came to the academy was introduced to me. She was Jing Wei, but she asked to be called Jenn, her English equivalent. She was a gymnast who had represented China in the 2008 Olympic Summer Games. She was there to teach me a few tricks, it seemed. At the beginning, she wanted me change out of my yoga gear and into what looked like a one-piece swimsuit, a standard leotard. She tried to explain that it was for better freedom of movement, but I wildly protested. It wasn’t until Shifu smacked me with his gun and berated my lack of dedication that I finally relented. At first, we did quite a lot of stretching exercises. Apparently, I wasn’t flexible enough for her to teach me what she had planned. Soon, I was able to do lateral splits with my feet out to either side of me, horizontal splits with one foot in front and the other behind, and could bend forward far enough to actually kiss my knees. Quickly though, it moved from that to cartwheels, hand springs, flips, balance beam practice, and finally all-out floor exercises. There was no way I was going to be winning any Olympic metals any time soon, but I had a few more options to incorporate into my fighting style. After the first month, I was allowed to put my yoga outfit on and run through a few floor routines with it. Then, Shifu tested me with another sparring match and, again, I became a throw pillow, but not as easily.

It must be said: I don’t think the academy had looked quite so clean before I came along as part-time janitor. When I wasn’t getting smacked with a stick, thrown around in a sparring match, or bouncing around in a leotard, the Hao Lai Academy got some tender loving care from yours truly. The floors were swept, mopped, and polished to shine. The walls, moldings, and lighting fixtures were all dusted. There were towels and multi-surface cleaners wiped on walls, counters, benches, and lockers. Everything was clean, sparkling, and smelling like a fresh spring rain. Then, another day would pass and it would have to be done all over again. Tiring though it was, the work carried its own reward and sense of pride.

It quickly became apparent that my new healing ability came in very handy. After a day with Shifu, there were no welts left over from his gun like there had been before. There were no bruises left over from tumbles I had taken when I failed to correctly execute the moves Jenn was trying to teach me. Upon waking up in the morning, there was no soreness from residual effects of hard workouts performed the day prior. Each new day was a clean slate to get pummeled again by either sparring matches or gymnastics exercises or both. There was also very clear evidence in my tone musculature that I was developing somewhere between a dancer and a gymnast’s physique. There was a little part of me that wished my boobs would shrink in size. One can only hope, but it didn’t happen.

As the second month progressed, Shifu and Jenn joined forces. He would watch as she instructed me, but would jump in at a moment’s notice if I messed up. If he and I were sparring, she’d be yelling out different movements to use for evasion. Distracting at first, it soon became its own blessing. They also developed their own independent instruction. Jenn had me don the curséd leotard, again, but started to teach me some things on the parallel bars, the pommel horse, the vault horse, and the hanging rings. Taking my enhanced senses into account, Shifu had started having me run through my taolu blindfolded. Occasionally, we would also spar that way, sometimes. He even taught me how to use my hair as a combat device for distraction and misdirection. Who knew it had such advantageous applications?! To say that Shifu was a genius in his own right was just not hyperbolic enough.

When my muscles were apparently cooperating, both Shifu and Jenn began to notice a latent natural agility. Somewhere hidden in the clumsiness of new body structure was a dexterity and grace that Shifu knew I didn’t possess before. His initial hypothesis was the lithe female form, but Jenn quickly disputed that sexist claim. My body was able to execute certain moves through intensive practice that most people shouldn’t be able to pull off after only two months. Even while sparring, my reaction times to many situations had decreased exponentially over a short period of time. There were theories bounced between the two of them, but there was no explanation to be found. Apparently, I’d found another ability my meta gene had gifted me with. If there were going to be any other ones, I really wished they’d write up a memo.

Over the past couple of weeks, Shifu decided it was finally time to address the issue of my claws. They were there, so I might as well use them to my advantage. However, he brought in a covering for the mat that I would have to roll out and roll back up after our practice, for sanitary reasons. Of course, I’d have to clean it, too.

On command, the two blade claws in my fists would emerge quite easily. It took some convincing and creative positioning to get the ones in my feet to cooperate at the same level. They were also a bit shorter, only about eight inches long. Though, it should be noted that the ones in my feet hurt just as much as the ones in my fists. Shifu taught me a standing meditation technique that helped me forget how much they hurt and another to keep them from emerging involuntarily. For obvious reasons, we would never spar when my claws were out. Instead, he had me roll up the sanitary mat and carry it to a different room with a bunch of sandbags hanging from the ceiling. Initially, he had me simply run through the taolu. For the past couple of days, he’d jab at me with his gun from a safe distance while I reacted with the claws. Needless to say, he had to replace a few of his precious sticks. He tried a couple of swords, but they met the same fate: sliced to pieces. Long wooden sticks were much cheaper than full metal blades.

As much as things were moving forward in that aspect, they were stagnant on the financial side of things. Not having any forms of identification, I was stuck in a rut. Even if I wanted to, there was no way to get a job without an ID card and a social security card. Neither of which was in my possession. Mike may have known a few people who were conducting some investigation, but neither of us had any connections that could create a whole new identity out of thin air. I believed that would require knowing somebody in the FBI, US Marshals Service, or equally higher up on the food chain of the government than we were. If we tried to hack our way into it, that would probably bring the attention of the NSA or Homeland Security down on us. That was a hornet’s nest we were, understandably, very reluctant to kick.

Also, I looked into a way to get my money out of the bank. There was a substantial amount that I could pay Mike and Steven several months’ worth of rent with. If I felt it necessary, I could probably even buy a little scooter to get to and from the academy with. However, no matter which way I looked at it, getting to my money would create a paper trail that any and all pursuers would be able to exploit to find me. The idea was quickly scrubbed, much to my chagrin. Mike and Steven have been giving me a weekly allowance to make up for it.

Life really sucks when you’re trying to hide from people who would likely enjoy killing you.

A bald man in a charcoal, pin-stripped suit gazed out into the rainy day through the bay window in his elaborate office. He puffed on a half-finished cigar and let the smoke billow out in front of him. He held a cellular phone up to his ear, but wore a dissatisfied expression.

“Two months have passed, now. Why haven’t you apprehended her?” His baritone voice seemed to dip further in pitch as he spoke.

“Sir, without causing a scene, the academy is a no-go. Every time the men are sent in there, they’re sent to the hospital and we have to abort the mission. They’ve got staff in there that’s got years more experience than my boys.” The man’s voice on the phone responded.

“I don’t want excuses! I want results!” The bald man growled. “What about where she lives?!”

“We don’t know that, sir. We’ve tried a tail, but the public transit authorities are a nuisance. Local authorities are on to our vehicles. We’ve had to abort. There’s no paper trail leading to anyone, sir. She’s like a ghost. She vanishes after leaving the academy and climbing aboard a local transit bus.”

The man spun around and slammed his fist on his desk. “I don’t have time for your incompetence!”

The door to his office opened and a built man entered. He wore at tight, black T-shirt that displayed his upper body musculature, black fatigues on his legs, and black combat boots on his feet. His brown hair was not a typical military “high and tight”, but styled more in a way that he could blend in with average people more easily. Over his shoulders, a fabric holster housed a gun in his left armpit. He raised an eyebrow at the emotional outburst of the man in the suit. The bald man simply grinned.

“I’m sending you some backup. You had better not fail me.” He hissed at the man on the phone, then hung up on him. His gaze met the man in the fatigues.

“Problems, sir?” The man in fatigues asked.

“Yes, I have sent boys to do a man’s job.” Taking a photograph from atop his desk, he gave said photograph to the man in fatigues. It was a still picture from the surveillance camera that had been in the adjoining room to the cell Lex had occupied. “That is your target. Desmond, bring our little girl home, would you?”

A smirk grew on Desmond’s face. “Certainly, Dr. Sutter. We wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to such a pretty girl all alone in the big city, would we?”

Dr. Sutter mirrored the smirk. “No, we certainly would not.”

The scent of tomato sauce, basil, parsley, oregano, and thyme reached my nose about half a block down the road from Mike and Steven’s. We were having spaghetti, tonight. Nobody else was making dinner at nearly nine o’clock in the evening, so it had to be our place. It annoyed Steven so much that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t keep what we were having for dinner a secret from me. It made me giggle. I didn’t quicken my pace, though. It had been a long, rough day and I was not in the mood to rush. Instead, I kept my leisurely pace, routinely punched the code into the door downstairs, and let myself into the building.

Underneath the myriad of smells I’d become accustomed to in the building, there was a waft of an unusual scent: Old Spice cologne. That was new. Most of the men in the building either wore Aqua Velva, Tag, or Axe. They were men of a new age and steered clear of the more conservative fragrances of Stetson or Old Spice. Living with Steven was definitely giving me an education.

Cautiously making my way up the stairs to the third floor, the scent of the cologne was still in the air. My eyes darted around the familiar surroundings. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary or out of place. I could hear other tenants talking in their apartments, even Mike and Steven, but nothing else. It struck me as odd and out of place, but I couldn’t explain why. Then, I saw it. On Mike and Steven’s door was a small dagger and a note attached to it.

Rushing to the door, my eyes scanned over the note. It read simply: Hello, there, Princess. If you don’t want your friends to get hurt, you should come home. Daddy misses you.

‘What kind of sick joke is this?!’ I thought. Then, it hit me. ‘They’ve found me.’

Not pausing, I shoved my keys in the door and opened it. Mike was playing on the newest Call of Duty map pack and Steven was pulling the garlic bread out of the oven. There was no time to enjoy the scent. Steven glanced over first and saw the fright in my eyes.

“Hey, there… jeezus, girlfriend! You look like you’ve seen a ghost! Did something happen on the way home?” He started doting on me.

“Mike!” I screeched.

He dropped the controller without even saying anything to the clan members he was playing with and moved toward me. “What? What’s the matter?”

Frozen, I simply pointed at the note.

Mike grew closer, spotting the knife. Momentarily ignoring it, he read the note. A look of disappointment, then anger crossed his face. “Dammit. I had good news for you, too.” He grabbed the knife and yanked it out of the door.

“Wha… what are you doing? There could be fingerprints on that the cops could…” I protested.

“The cops could what, Lex? See who belongs to the criminal organization that wants to kidnap you again? How about when they come to the door and want to know who you are?” He scoffed. “I’m sorry, Lex, but they’d probably take you in as a runaway, then take Steven and I in for aiding and abetting. We’re on our own to figure this out.”

The look of concern lingered on Steven’s face. “He’s right, sweetie. They’re not gonna help us, too much. Besides, word on the street says that Seattle Police aren’t big fans of gays, anyway. What do you think they’d do to someone like you?”

Dropping my duffel bag, I started going into hysterics. “Well, this is just great!” Tears started to well up in my eyes. It had become common place whenever my emotions went awry. “What am I supposed to do, now?” Tears started streaming down my face as I moved into the living room.

“Dude, Brickhouse, who’s the chick?” A voice came over the speakers, obviously a clan mate on Xbox LIVE.

“Yea, man, I thought you were gay? She sounds hot, though.” Another observed.

Angrily, I picked up Mike’s headset. “Oh, fuck off!” The headset dropped to the table.

“Wow, somebody needs a Midol!” A third quipped.

Mike casually picked up the headset. “Not now, guys. Family emergency.” Setting down the headset, he pressed the power button on the Xbox and it immediately fell silent.

Lovely. Mike and Steven. My two gay dads. I shook my head.

Mike’s gaze fell on Steven. “Honey, call the guys. We’re gonna need some backup.”

Steven nodded. “On it, babe.” Then, he disappeared into the bedroom.

Mike’s gaze returned to me. “Lex, we can’t worry about this note, yet. It’ll get handled. Did you notice anything when you came in? This had to happen within the last half hour because Steven had just run down to the store to pick up some French bread.”

Sniffling, there were still tears rolling down my cheeks. “Old Spice.”

“You wanna spell that out for me?”

My glare was telling. “You know, the cologne?”

His brow furrowed in ignorance. Unlike Steven, he didn’t pay too much attention to such things. Speak of the Devil, Steven appeared from the bedroom.

“Okay, Jacob and Daniel are on their way over. What’d I miss?”

My eyes slowly moved over and met his. “Old Spice,” I repeated.

“Who’s that tacky? Nobody in this building, I’ll tell you that. Why?”

“Apparently, it was something she smelled.” Mike answered for me and shrugged.

Steven gave him a look that seemed to say, ‘Oh my god, you’re kidding me.’ “Honey, it’s a cologne that only old men, cowboy wannabes, and military boys from Hickville would be caught dead wearing anymore.” He chided his partner, then looked at me. “Where’d you smell it?”

“In the building, when I came up.” My voice meekly stated.

“In this building? Must have been when I was making the garlic bread because, honey, I would have smelt that from a mile away.”

“So, we’re looking for an old guy, a wannabe cowboy, or a military guy?” Mike attempted to clarify.

“Sounds like it, sweetheart.” Steven shrugged. He moved over to the couch where I had just plopped down and settled. Wrapping me in a hug, he was trying to cajole me. “It’ll be okay, hon. We can handle this, right?”

Sniffling again, I wiped the tears from my face. “Okay, so that’s the bad news. What was the good news you were talking about?”

Mike’s face suddenly lit up. “We found her, Lex!”

“Found who?”

He looked at me, dumbfounded. “Julia! We found Julia!”

Rachel can be pretty insistent when she wants to be. About a week ago, she had a discussion with Mike while I barely listened before eating and then crashing on the couch, my “bed”. She had been very assertive. She even went so far as to talk to Shifu, personally, when I was off somewhere doing my janitor thing. She needed me to have a day off for something and was relatively cryptic as to why. Conveniently, the events of last night seemed to coincide with her plans rather well. The stars aligned and she got me a day off.

So, here we were sitting in her car. There were a few things plaguing my mind, so I was staring out the window for the whole trip. She kept passing glances my way, but my attention didn’t deviate from the scene of downtown playing out on the other side of the glass. The multitude of occurrences and their possible implications danced about between my ears. Somebody from that place was after me. Mike’s contacts had actually managed to find Julia. My training was coming along, but I still had a ways to go. I was stuck in this body and there was probably no way I was ever going to get my life back. A heavy sigh escaped my lips and all hope seemed to go with it.

Before I knew it, the car slowed to a stop and Rachel began shutting it down. I glanced over to watch her unbuckle her seatbelt. Then, my eyes darted around. When they read the sign out in front of the building, they shot open as wide as dinner plates.

“Planned Parenthood? What the heck are we doing here?” There was no filter between my brain and my mouth. Subconsciously, I slowly unbuckled my own seatbelt.

She sighed and shook her head. “We have an appointment.”

“Are you pregnant?”

My brashness startled her. “No, I’m not!” She started rubbing her temple.

I merely blinked. “Then, what are we doing here?”

“How can I put this bluntly?” She shook an errant thought from her brain. “There are certain needs that body has that Mike, Steven, and even your Kung Fu master couldn’t begin to comprehend. I’m concerned about your health, so I scheduled an appointment for you. This is the only place that I could get you into without too many questions being asked or requests for records you don’t have being made.”

“Okay, your concern is noted. But, isn’t this a place for that ‘girl doctor’ stuff?”

She reached over, grabbed the sun visor, flipped it down, and then opened the vanity mirror. “Here on Earth, we call this thing a mirror. Have you looked in one, lately?”

She exited the car in a huff. At this point, it was probably best to comply and avoid confrontation. Reluctantly, I climbed out of the car followed behind her. I stuffed my hands inside the pockets of the hoodie I was wearing and kept my head low. The place made me heavily uncomfortable. Sure, it was decorated in a calming fashion with its recycled or reclaimed maple, birch, and pine wood finish all over the place. The walls were all some shade reminiscent of cream or soft beige. The carpets were all drab gray and the upholstery on the chairs was somewhere close to navy blue. Rachel briefly spoke to the receptionist then moved to the chairs in the waiting room. Automatically, my body followed her lead and slumped in the seat. Thankfully, the waiting room was mostly barren.

After what seemed an eternity, a female voice reverberated off the walls. “Alexis McKinley?”

Rachel started standing and I looked at her strangely. She waved me up and whispered. “C’mon. That’s us.”

Slowly, I rose and whispered back. “Alexis?”

“It’s the closest female equivalent I could think of and still call you ‘Lex’, okay?”

I rolled my eyes as we followed behind the nurse to the back clinic area. Weaving through the corridor, the nurse gestured to a numbered exam room.

“Ms. Maddingly, if you’ll just wait in there, I’ll take Alexis to do some measurements and be with you in a moment.” The nurse plainly stated.

Rachel nodded, moving into the exam room. Nervously, my lower lip found its way between my teeth and I nibbled on it for a moment. The nurse gently placed a hand on my back and led me over to a scale. She instructed me to take off my shoes and step onto it, so they could get an accurate weight. With a sigh, I complied. She fiddled with a few of the measuring devices and wrote some notes on her sheet. Now, I finally knew my ending height. I stood at a meager five feet, five inches. Beyond that, my weight was a non-scale-topping one hundred twenty-six pounds. From men’s Welterweight Division to women’s Bantamweight Division, not that I would be fighting any time soon.

“Seems you’re a healthy, growing young lady.” The nurse smirked. “Grab your shoes. Let’s get you back to your aunt and we can check your vitals.”

Numb from the brain down, my body simply followed instructions. I have never been very fond of doctor’s offices. All that poking, prodding and measuring is enough to make your head spin. As I had done with checkups at the fights, I just tuned it all out and let them do their thing. After the nurse left, it was an agonizing wait for the doctor. Rachel sat patiently, playing with her hair. I sat nervously fidgeting on their little exam table. Finally, a blonde woman who didn’t look anywhere near hitting thirty, yet, entered the room wearing her white lab coat. She offered a smile as she closed the door.

“Good morning, ladies. I’m Dr. Weylan.” She greeted. A sigh escaped my lips, but I would imagine she interpreted the meaning of the sigh to be much different than I actually meant it to be. She placed a computer pad she’d carried under her arm on its docking station, then turned to us. “How can we help you, today?”

Rachel spoke first and I was more than happy to let her take the lead. “Well, my niece is staying with me for a couple of weeks while her mother is away on business. She had an appointment back home, but her mother’s business trip came out of nowhere. She’s never had a ‘guy-no’ exam, so I figured sixteen was old enough for a girl to make sure she was healthy.”

The doctor nodded as she took in the information. In an instant, she glared at Rachel. “Cut the bullshit.” Her eyes darted between the two of us. “What’s really going on here?”

Rachel’s mouth opened as though she wanted to say something but the words just refused to cooperate.

My turn. “Rachel is just trying to help me out and the situation calls for a little secrecy. She was telling the truth about this being my first ‘guy-no’ visit, though.”

The doctor nodded. “So, is there a reason why a sixteen-year-old girl hasn’t seen a gynecologist since starting her menstrual cycle? Most first-timers I see are, at least, twelve.” She grabbed her tablet. “When was your last period?”

My face burned and went flush. I had to think about that question. “Um… I missed this month?”

The doctor sneered. “I see. So, are you in here for a pregnancy exam or contraception? Have you been sexually active?”

I shook my head violently. “Absolutely not! No, nothing like that!”

Her eyebrow raised at my outburst. “Rigorous physical activity?”

Expecting another probing question into my personal life, my face contorted into a strange angry expression but then relaxed as I realized the situation didn’t call for it. “Yea, actually. I’ve been training a lot in gymnastics and martial arts, lately.”

The doctor smirked. “That’s better. A little honesty.” She let out a sigh. “The absence of a menstrual flow during periods of excessive physical activity is more common than you think. So, I’ll ask again: What can we do for you, today?”

Rachel broke her silence. “Right now, she’s living with guys. I’m her friend. I was worried that she wasn’t getting the medical care she needs, so I brought her in.”

The doctor consulted her pad again. “Well, the vitals look fine. They’re exceptional, in fact. So, I’ll go ahead and take some blood. Then, I’m going to need you to strip down to nothing below the waist and I’ll check you out. Okay?”

My eyes popped wide open. “Naked below the waist?”

The doctor smiled. “It’s called a pelvic exam and a Pap Smear, honey. It’s all routine and I’ll do my best to make it as comfortable as possible.” She set the pad back into the docking station. “Take off your hoodie, hon.” She grabbed some gloves and started slipping those on as I complied with her request. Then, she grabbed a butterfly needle, a tourniquet, and some vials. This was going to get weird.

She sat down in front of me and eyeballed my arm. Then, she propped it up a little and slipped the tourniquet around my bicep. Taking my forearm, she made like she was turning my arm to get a better vantage point, but stopped suddenly. With her thumb, she applied pressure along the underside of my arm. I could feel her hit the bone, then she hit something else and my eyes bulged. Seeming to mirror my surprise, her head jolted up to look at me.

“There’s going to be an explanation, isn’t there?” She almost demanded. I nodded in response as she grabbed the needle. “For this, it’s just a little prick and it’s all over.” She chuckled. “Well, that came out wrong.”

She and Rachel giggled, but I didn’t get the joke. The needle stabbed into my arm, but I was too dumbfounded to notice. In moments, two vials were filled and she was working on the third. She released the tourniquet, let the blood flow a bit, then pulled out the needle. Placing a cotton ball on the wound, she applied pressure to it.

“Okay, sweetie, hold this in place for me.” She instructed.

“No need.” Came my response.

“You’ll have blood all down your arm if you don’t.”

“No, I won’t. Watch.” Taking the cotton ball, she watched the wound close very quickly.

Now, she stood up. “Is this the reason for the secrecy? You’re meta, aren’t you? Nobody heals that fast. What was that I felt in your forearms?”

Rachel hung her head. “Dr. Weylan, please calm down and we’ll explain.”

Over the course of half an hour, Rachel and I delivered the condensed version of the story. We didn’t give her all the details, but there were enough given that she didn’t freak out on us, again. It was becoming very tiresome to have to explain all of it to people. After we calmed her down, she saw the same need to perform her examination that Rachel apparently felt. There is no way I’m divulging all of the details about what happened next to anyone–or any details, for that matter. It was strange, felt funny, and was embarrassing. Use your imagination and try to keep the science fiction Hentai out of the equation.

I barely spoke a word on the ride back to Mike and Steven’s after that. Mike asked me how it all went and I just huffed at him. The rest of the day was fairly laid back and not much got accomplished.

Now, Mike had called in the reinforcements who had been watching the house and accompanied us to where we were. He didn’t give me many details, though. We were standing in the hall outside an apartment in Queen Anne and I was nibbling my lip like I had done back at the doctor’s office. I guess it’s my new nervous twitch. He glanced over at me, trying to be supportive. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. Being about ten feet away, I heard small footsteps and then the door being opened. I could see Mike’s smile, though.

“Mike? What are you doing here?” The woman’s velveteen voice carried into the hallway.

My eyes closed on their own and a small smile creased my lips. I knew that voice very well. My eyes felt hot and I could sense tears building up. It was a happy moment, though.

“Well, figured I’d stop by and see how you were doing. You had us worried, you know.” Mike stated plainly.

“I’m fine, Mike. How’d you find me, anyway?”

Why did her voice carry such malice? The moment she saw Mike, it seemed like she was on the defensive. It didn’t feel right, somehow.

“I have my methods. Say, can we come in for a few minutes? I brought somebody who’d really like to see you.” Mike almost pleaded.

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I guess. Just a few minutes, though. I’ve got somewhere I need to be, tonight.”

Small footsteps hit wood laminate flooring. She seemed to be annoyed. Mike followed her into the apartment and waved for me to follow him. Without encouragement, I obliged and found myself standing in the open doorway. I could smell her perfume. It was a little stronger than I remember her wearing it, though. It didn’t matter. After all this time, I was mere feet from her.

“So, who is this mystery person and what do they want with me?” She asked in a huff.

“Well, Julia, I found somebody else that’s been missing for a while.” He stepped to the side, bringing she and I into line of sight with one another.

A smile formed on my lips and tears welled up in my eyes. The dam was about to break, but I didn’t care. She was right in front of me, now. Her auburn hair was just as perfect as I always remembered it. Her arms were folded across her chest. Her chocolate eyes carried a great deal of questions within them. The first of which, she spoke aloud.

“Who’s the runt?” She pointed her question at Mike.

With one hand, he motioned toward me. “It may be a little different, but this is Lex.”

She gave him eye daggers. “That’s not even fucking funny, Brickhouse!”

“It’s confusing, but it’s very true… mon petite.” It’s something I used to call her after we… well, you get the idea.

Her eyes widened in what looked like rage. “Don’t you dare call me that, you little bitch!”

I jumped back, never expecting an outburst like that. “Julia, what the hell?”

“Look, you little tramp, I dunno who the hell you are, but I want you out of my house, right this second!” The daggers then got aimed at Mike. “This is a really sick joke, Brickhouse! I’m not laughing! Lex is dead! It took me a long time and a lot of therapy to come to terms with what happened that night!” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

I found they were rolling down mine, too. “Julia Eleanor Langley, what the hell is the matter with you? Give us a minute to explain!”

The way her head rolled toward me almost reminded me of The Exorcist. “I don’t know how you know that name, little girl…”

“Julia! Jesus Christ… I! Am! Lex!” My voice would probably piss off dogs down the street.

She screamed right back. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!”

The waterworks were running at full capacity as I spun around and ran out of the apartment building. Not even stopping at Mike’s car, I just kept running whichever direction I was pointed and kept going.