Ell oh ell.

She’d learned a new thing today! U B E E R. Er. Uber. Who knew you could just call someone up... and have them drive you home?

Except she hadn’t gone home now, had she? She was avoiding her home. Because it wasn’t her home. And her brother’s home, because because. Didn’t he have, like, thirty five kids now with his college sweetheart or something? Facebook could only tell you so much! So, she’d told them to take her to the mansion. Xaviersssh Shister Shchool. Because—

Was she really stumbling into the mansion, drunk? This was more something Mirror would do, that she would give him endless crap about. Because rules. Must abide by, endless rules. But no, she wasn’t just walking in drunk. She’d been shot, too!

She was FINE. Fine. Just a flesh wound. More a big bruise and a sprained left shoulder than anything life-threatening. And the gunpowder residue had just brushed off the green Carhart hoodie. You literally couldn’t beat that

It had been... a loooong day. First, she’d snuck out to shop and met Addy. And CS would have applauded her flirting skillz. And then, she’d helped that girl and she’d bought her shots! But oh, that was after she’d fallen asleep on the bus and a creep had tried to steal her clothes, and she’d knocked him over with said item. Score one for the Pantymancer! Literally. And she’d only meant to have one shot or two, but—

Wellllll. It did help the pain from the sprain. And a sprain in pain is a sprain to complain, and if you drink, your brain will stop the complain, it’ll complain in vain, but mostly on the plain. And— she was drunk!

This was technically illegal. She was technically 17. But the ID said like 23. What a laugh!

Apparently she couldn’t hold her liquor. But then, it had only been her first. Night. Of boozing it up. And Juniper was such a sweetheart maybe they’d hang out again? (And kind of hot for an older chick!) Ssshhh, don’t tell.

And so she stumbled into the entry hall of the mansion, with two giant bags of clothes in one arm. And a third slung over her shoulder by a jury rigged strap on the bag. So she could hold everything and not struggle with her sprained arm.

Improvise, adapt, overcome!

And she stumbled into a wall of tall, dark and muscled. She nearly dropped her bags as she stumbled backwards to take a good look at what she had stumbled forwards into.

Amelia leaned forwards and squinted. Who was... oh yeah. Her face lit up!

“Hi Saaaam!” Amelia sang. When she tried to wave at him with her very free left arm, she winced visibly. “Oh coc<$*(<er!” She cursed. “Damn gunshot wound.”

“You look. Different.” She said. She wasn’t sure why.

Great, someone else who knew him in his past life. Sam was starting to get used to it but it always lead to awkward conversations. ‘do you remember me?’ ‘do you remember when?’ ‘how old are you?’ ‘why didn’t you call me back?’ all of which Sam would only respond with a shrug and an apology.

Sam frowned and gave a slight nod then stopped. It was late; he was up again from reoccurring faces again. He never explained to Eve what he had to relieve but it was something that kept him awake most nights. Meaning it was training time till he was about to drop. Now was that time. He had scorch marks on his shirt and pants. He looked about as bad as the woman was going to feel in the morning she was drunk. She also had a bumped into him, which was the only reason Sam stopped to talk other than the occasional pleasantries.

”Someone had a night.” he said with a smirk. She knew him, he’d at least be polite on the hole, most of the people in the mansion seemed like decent people all except for the princess.

”You!” Sam first responded before raising an eyebrow again, she knew who he was. He did not know her. Old Sam probably, young Sam did not. She was cute, meaning young Sam did want to know her. Ideally when she was sober, not in such rough shape looking like a bag lady complaining about a gunshot wound.

”You were shot?” he asked before gesturing for her to slow down. He didn’t see any blood but that didn’t mean there was damage. ”Hey there, your name is? Where were you shot? Bullet still in?” he could field treat a bullet wound, that was easy enough especially with an infirmary so close by. Sam still had not been to the infirmary, old Sam told young Sam to steer clear of that place. A grumpy old man lived there.

“Pft,” she just waved him off. “Tis but a flesh wound. Really. Sprain and a bruise. Wanna know a secret? Promise not to tell?”

When he expressed interest, she leaned forward and whispered. “My hoodie can stop bullets. (But not the whole of the impact). Haven’t tried it on Fire or electricity yet.”

She had some ideash.

He really did look different. What was it...? Oh yeah. Char. She sniffed. And a smoky smell.

“Did you set yourself on fire...?” The question of her name had not registered. In a singsong voice, she noted “I know Someone who isn’t fiiiiireprooof.”

She side-eyed him. “Hey if you got burned you should see the doc guy. He’s old but he could probably help you.”

Sam smirked when he leaned in acting like he was about to hear an amazing secret. ”I’d like one of those.” Sam said nodding his head. His body with the help of his mutation could help prevent burns if he had something to stop bullets every time he’d only need to worry about being shocked. Being shocked made it impossible to focus on creating anything.

His body iced up under his shirt and he revealed a blue sheen of ice through one of the chard parts of his shirt. ”Fireproof enough. Ice.” Sam said figuring if she knew his name she’d know his powers. ”I was told I should stay away from the infirmary. Doc doesn’t like healing me.” Sam said knowing all about DocProf from his older self’s video message.

”Flesh wound or not maybe you should get checked out?” Sam said knowing she didn’t answer the question about, ”I forgot your name.” the icemancer lied. ”You need help carrying these bags?” he offered. ”Can’t let someone who just got shot carrying all these bags. Where you headed?”

Ice, ice, baby. She would not say that’s cool she would not say that’s cool she would not say—

“N i c e!”Amelia said.

Doh! Just as bad.

She poked the iced over part. The part that showed through the hole in his shirt. The him part. She’d heard of it. Didn’t think she’d actually ever seen it first hand. It was pretty cool.

She leaned back, adjusting her bag army and eyed him. “Not allowed? Hm. Maybe because you keep walking through fires and thinking you won’t get burned. That poor shirt.”

She almost sympathized with it. Hey. Her power was supposed to be clothing manipulation, wasn’t it? Her fashion sense could have sympathy for abused clothes.

When he insisted she get checked out, Amelia pursed her lips. “Maybe.” She said. “In the morning.”

And he’d forgotten her name? Had they actually even met? For some reason, she felt like most of her Sam stories were secondhand, from Mirror... and she’d seen pictures. Or— she couldn’t remember. Memories were foggy. It had been a long time ago. And also, last Tuesday. Time was weird.

“I’m Ami.” She said. “Amelia, if you want me to kill you while you’re asleep.” She smiled, channeling her inner Adelynn.

She didn’t care if he used her full name. People so rarely did. Mirror had just called her panda. It had just been cheeky.

He offered to carry her bags. She would have shrugged if she’d been certain it wouldn’t have hurt her. So she said “Sure.” And handed them to him.

For the second time that night, she said “Don’t try stealing them. They’re all the clothes I own right now. And I already knocked someone out tonight with underwear because he tried to steal them. So don’t.”

She held up two fingers to her eyes, then pointed them his way. ‘I got my eye on you.’

“I’m upstairs in the girls quarters for now. Thanks, hired muscle~” She teased, walking past him, up the stairs.

Sam gave a slight chuckle when she gave him one of his favorite ice puns and again when she touched the ice over his skin. He nodded his head at her name. Making note not to call her Amelia. He was already on a few women’s hit list he’d prefer not to get on one while he was in the mansion…again. ”Ami, it is.” he agreed.

Laughing now slightly uncomfortable, ”No ma’am, don't know what you heard about me or old me but I’m not into stealing women’s clothes.” he hoisted up all three bag and followed her up the stairs hoping Ghost wasn’t on patrol again. She was a scary lady.

Normally he would have offered taking her out as payment but again she was clearly drunk and if she did really get shot she could also be working on nothing but adrenaline and said booze. Sam was not the one to take advantage of this situation, so he kept it polite like he was talking to Ghost.

”Sounds like you had a pretty wild night Ami.” Sam started as he rounded the stairs up. ”So what did you do to get shot?” he asked trying to make small talk to the woman he never met before.

Old him? He didn’t seeem old. Heck, he seemed hot and young. Why would there be rumors about him stealing women’s clothes?

“Just a figure of speech,” she said. “Haven’t heard anything about you dressing up like that.”

In a skirt and dancing. Nope. Hadn’t heard that. Even a grass skirt. Dancing the hula.

—

Amelia glanced back at him as she got to the top of the stairs, reached out for the railing, and kept steady.

What had she done to get shot?

“There was this girl in danger. I did the sort of thing you and Mirror always do, and took on the creep stalker who’d been chasing her.”

Amelia made a face. “He did this thing where mutations didn’t work I think. Couldn’t use my power. Luckily, I don’t need a power to throw a trash can lid at his head and heat him with a 2x4 someone had thrown out. After he thought I’d died.”

She walked down the hall a few steps, looking for her room. For the life of her, she couldn’t come up with the number that moment. But she’d figure it out. By sight, if nothing else.

Apparently Ami knew the icemancer well. That was something he would have done. Maybe break a few bones while he was at it. Whose to say she didn’t. Sam laughed. That was something he and Mirror always do. It oddly made Sam feel better about the whole out of time experience. ”Bet you got him good.”

”What else do I always do?” Sam blurted out before he thought to stop himself. Asking a drunk Ami probably wouldn’t yield the best information but he was curious about more of his older versions exploits. Maybe Ami was part of them.

”Lost?” Sam asked?

Got him good?

“Oh yeah. Beat the crap out of him. I think Juniper told a guy to take care of him before he hurt someone else too. So— that’s nice.” Whatever that meant. Moving on.

His next question made her stop walking, and grimace. What did he always do?

“I dunno, man. Girls? I’ll admit most of what I know about you was secondhand through mirror when I was dating them. Helping people? Being an X-man?”

Why was he asking about himself? Even drunk, inquisitive Ami was at work.

She took another few steps and looked around.

>>”Lost?” He asked.

“Nooope. This one.” She walked three doors down, and unlocked the door. In the doorway, she looked back at him. Waited, then said “Well, come on in.”

She stepped inside and waved him in.

”Juniper?” he met a Juniper as well. To say she was friendly was a gross understatement. Sam smirked recalling his time alone with her in the man cave. His smirk faded when Ami didn’t have any other information for him. So they weren’t that close. Bummer he’d have to ask someone else what he was like anyone but Serena and Gawain were far too biased in the young ice mutant’s opinion. They would only talk about how great he was. From what he could see he wasn’t.

”Girl’s make sense… did we?” Sam asked as he walked up to the door and hesitated to enter. She was drunk and he wasn’t, he instinctively felt bad about this situation. He mentally told himself that he’d ice up and leave. A different ice up then when he was with Juniper.

It took him a few moments and he entered. ”Why were you carrying around all your stuff if you have a room?” Sam asked hoisting the bags off his shoulder and setting them gently on the ground.

Juniper, he asked.

“Juniper.” She confirmed. “Pretty. Nice butt.” She laughed.

Moving on.

He asked if they— Amelia laughed again. Lightly. “I like girls.” She said. “And Gawains.” Not Sams.

Moving the hell on.

Poor Sam. He should have known better. Of course, him being the man he was he would always have to try. And he was a hottie. But at present, reeeeally not her type.

But she could let him bring in her stuff at least. Wasn’t like that’d give him false hopes. She’d neatly dashed those, after all.

The room he set the bags in was as barebones a room as one can get. There was no personalization. The bedspread was basic, blue bedsheets. There weren’t any pictures or fancy furniture. It looked like she’d literally just moved in, and hadn’t made the room her own... which, of course, was the case.

“I had to buy new clothes because when I got deaged my old ones didn’t fit.” She said, somberly. Maybe the drunk was starting to wear off, or key towards the less tittering side of inebriation.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be stuck like this. If I ever change back at all. Here’s hoping.” She held up crossed fingers.

A simple no would have been fine. If he was anyone else he would have been insulted, however. Sam’s ego was powerful enough to shrug it off. He was the best at some things picking up women in the mansion was apparently not one of them. Juniper with the nice butt seemed to be a fluke for him. Gawain however seemed to be the mansion’s playboy, suddenly Sam wanted to know the mans secrets if he could get the attention of women who were only into other women. The man must talent. Sam mentally reminded himself to watch Gawain around women.

Sam knew the feeling; he too didn’t fit into some of the clothes. Mainly his jackets older Sam seemed to be a bit sturdier the pants however were pretty much the same. He shrugged, ”I didn’t change much at least physically. Older Sam seemed to whiny.” he recalled the video almost sounding like a suicide note and the attempt he said he made to end it. That wasn’t him. He didn’t want to become that, even if he supposedly did a lot of good.

Eyeing everything in the room Sam gave another shrug, ”Whelp… if that’s it I’m glad you got home safely.” with the bags down he took his hands and willed a small slab of ice. One big enough to cover someone’s shoulder. Something he’d make for himself if he had gotten shot to reduce swelling at least. ”I’ll just leave you with a parting gift. I can check on you tomorrow morning if you like.” Sam offered before overstaying his welcome.

Wait, had she heard right? Old Sam? Young Sam? ... red Sam, blue Sam. He’d had the age— the age reversing thing done to him too!

Her heart went out to the ice man. She wouldn’t have said melted, because well, she was in the same crappy situation. But she did empathize.

He thought his older self had seemed whiny, too. Had old Sam been sad? Why?

She had her own problems, but— instead of immediately taking the ice... pack... she surged forward and wrapped her good arm around him in a one-armed hug. She ignored or missed that he had wanted to leave. Ah the joys of being drunk.

“You poor thing,” she said. “I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to deal with the same thing i am... do you,” She let go and stepped back. “Want to talk about it? The whole age thing. Also, thank you. For the bags and—“

She snagged the ice pack. “This.” She waggled it at him.

The hug was unexpected in fact when she went forward and wrapped her arm around him he first thought she was going to attack him. His body tensed up and relaxed a little when he felt himself pulled into a hug. It was kind of comforting to have someone relate to him. Apparently Ami went through the same thing. He shrugged when the hug ended pretending that it didn’t shake him that much.

”Not, really much of a talker.” Sam said as he shook his head and sighed a little. She was still probably pretty drunk, which meant she was more than likely to forget this conversation entirely. ”I’m getting tired of being compared to how great I was. People won’t shut up about it. I’m not him. I might be but I don’t’ really want to be him.” he frowned after he blurted out his thoughts on the matter.

”No problem. If nothing else I’m at least good at manual labor an making ice packs right?” Sam laughed slightly. ”Do you remember everything?” Sam asked curiously. He knew it was different for others. They retained some memories but he, Sam couldn’t recall anything.

He tensed up... and then relaxed a little.

Some people don’t like surprise hugs.

>>”Not really much of a talker.” He said. Then went on. Seemed he could do a good job at it if he really applied himself to the task.

He was tired of being compared to himself, and maybe didn’t even want to be him. Maybe he was a little bitter about it.

Then, he tried to turn the subject away from via self deprecation and talking about her.

Amelia shook her head. “I remember my life up until just after my mutation activated. When I used clothing manipulation to shove Maya out of the path of a speeding car during the zombie fight.” She... would just slip zombies into the sentence, just because. Zombies made everything better, and worse. “I lost, what? Eight years of my life? Im apparently some kind of badass cop but I don’t even remember how I made my hoodie bulletproof. So I’ll have to rediscover that.”

In an oddly lucid moment, Amelia remembered what Evelyn had said to her earlier that— day? Was that yesterday? It didn’t matter.

“Evelyn said... she said everyone has different paths they can take, choices they can make. And if you don’t want to be compared to that guy, don’t want to be the same guy... don’t. Take a different path. Make a different choice. Maybe this time you don’t want to be an X-man?” She said.

After a moment, she added. “Maybe this time you want to be a male model?” Then, she laughed to herself.

Lucid moment, destroyed. She was still drunk.