Classical music played on the radio as the car slid out of New York’s gridlock, and into the quieter suburbs. The Spring weather was too hot for the heater to be on, and too cold for the air conditioning: instead, the driver had his window cracked an inch. There was a smile on his lips. Pale reflections of trees slid over the windshield, and were gone.

Next to him, the woman sat blindfolded. The black cloth matched her hair quite flattering, he thought. He flashed an admiring glance over her in the rearview mirror, then turned his attentions back to parking.

They’d arrived at the cemetery.

The car tilted and shifted. The door driver’s door slammed shut. The man’s footsteps came around it, stopping once at the trunk: something was removed. Then he came to the woman’s door.

“We’re here. You can take that off now.”

Rupert held the lady’s door open with a grin, a picnic basket in one hand and a bottle of sparkling cider under his arm. The tree shaded grounds and sculpted lawn of the old cemetery stretched out peacefully behind him.

“Seemed like a good spot for a second date. If any kids turn up this time, we’re already ready for them.” He flashed a grin, and offered Riley his arm.

Just because she hadn’t been tossed into a basement hole the first time, didn’t mean it wasn’t still a possibility. That’s what happened when a girl answered a call from a one-night-stand, then let them blindfold her, and put her in a car. It had been quite a while, and the orchestra music playing through the speakers really was starting to remind Riley of a scene from Silence of the Lambs.

She shook it off and tried to tell herself to stop being such a cynic. It would have been far easier to kill her the last time they’d hooked up. Nobody had known where she was, or that she’d even met the guy. The situation was still pretty much the same, but it was daylight. That counted for something, right? Riley chalked the whole thing up to the fact that she’d had an absolutely hellish couple of weeks. The whole…adaptoid/adapted/whatever thing was completely throwing her for a loop, and jobs had been coming fewer and further in-between. Riley had needed a distraction, and the last time she’d spent time with Rupert Kelley, he’d provided several, good ones too.

The idea of an actual date wasn’t Riley’s perfect situation, but she’d acquiesced….again for reasons she really didn’t know, and the last thing she was planning on was pouring her heart out to Rupert. Nope, she was going to be someone else for an afternoon and pretend like all of her problems were far behind.

It was comfortably warm and cool in the car, and Riley was glad that the blue polka-dot sundress she’d worn was well suited to the white cardigan she’d put over the top. It wasn’t fancy, but it was a definite step up from the casual wear the first time they’d met.

The car stopped, and Riley had to convince herself not to be nervous again as the door opened and Rupert climbed out. The trunk popped, then opened and shut and Rupert’s voice let Riley know she could take off the blindfold.

Well manicured fingers rose to untie the knot in the back of the handkerchief that had obstructed her view, and Riley lowered the fabric to reveal trees and shaded ground….and tombstones. The tombstones, Riley could ignore. Having grown up in the urban core of Chicago, then moving to New York, suburban green and large trees were mostly foreign to her. She didn’t even mind when Rupert used the “d” word. She could correct him later if things got out of hand.

He offered his arm, and Riley climbed carefully out of the car and took it, taking note of the bottle and picnic basket and chuckling when he said that any interruptions could be summarily dealt with in this setting.

”I think that’s a great idea. We’ll even have the alibi of a date.” she glanced at the are surrounding them as they walked, smiling at the blades of grass that tickled her feet. ”Not a reflective surface in sight. What‘s in the basket?”

>> ”I think that’s a great idea. We’ll even have the alibi of a date.”

Rupert grinned. “Nothing like a little pre-meditated murder on a spring afternoon.”

They passed through the cemetery’s old fashion gates. The newest grave here was about half a century old, but the cemetery was still carefully tended. As they walked deeper, names and inscriptions weathered away. He chose a sun-speckled spot by an old oak tree, confident that the gargoyles that perched on a neighboring mausoleum and the graveyard in general sufficiently cut through any air of sap that might be dripping on the scene. Far be it for Rupert to be pegged as a romantic. This date was as much about getting out of the apartment during daylight hours as it was about anything else. It was a sad day when a man woke up, and realized that most of his recent human interactions had been with a half-lesbian teenage freak. Whether that even qualified as ‘human interaction’ was up in the air.

>> “What‘s in the basket?”

“Pre-processed sandwiches,” the ex cop said, “and a blanket.” Forget the idyllic red and white checkered one: Rup had gone for black. He set the basket down on top of a nameless square slab, and took it out. A patch of grass was soon summarily smothered.

As for the sandwiches: he’d had no clue where the lady’s tastes ran, so he just brought ingredients. Slices of whole grain bread sat next to stacks of cheese, finely sliced meats, and various greens. There was something distinctly more satisfying in putting things together on a whim, anyway.

For dessert, there were small lemon tarts. A sweet dessert would be getting too cutesy: a cynic could maintain a certain level of self-respect, with lemon tarts. Even homemade ones.

When walking through a graveyard, most people probably would have watched where they stepped or at least paid a modicum of attention to the grave stones littering the ground. Riley didn’t, at least not beyond what it took for her to make sure she didn‘t trip. The truth of the matter was, dead people were dead, you didn’t talk to them anymore…in fact, she found people who came to places like these to find their ancestors and make crayon rubbings weird. And Riley figured that said a lot coming from someone like her. Riley just nodded when he pointed out that there was nothing like pre-meditated murder on a spring afternoon.

All things considered, the place Rupert had picked for their excursion was pretty and Riley was vaguely impressed. For a self-dubbed asshole, he managed very well when he tried…he’d even remembered that she couldn’t drink alcohol. If nothing else the man paid attention to details. Riley had to give him that.

Rupert stopped them under a tree and Riley eyed the grass suspiciously. It wasn’t that she hated being outside, the background of the dress was white. Rupert washed the suspicion away with an inventory of what was in the basket, and after he’d spread the blanket on the ground, Riley sat, tucking her legs underneath her at a little sideways angle. Sure, it showed a little more leg than other methods of sitting, but it wasn’t anything Rupert hadn’t seen before.

”Great.” she said with a slight nod, ” Pressed meat equals a tasty treat.” she quipped, miming some random food revaluation show she’d watched a few days previous. ”I hope you’ve got turkey.”

The sun shining through the branches of the old oak was warm, and Riley closed her eyes and sighed for a second. Maybe she could just not think about everything else for a while. Maybe she could just forget that her life and career were falling down around her ears. Just for a little bit. It wouldn’t hurt anything, right?

”So, do you bring girls here often?” she asked Rupert, eyes still shut. It was after all a kind of strange place for a date.

Her tasty treat rhyme earned a snerkle: a sound like a snort, but with more twisted grinning.

>> “So, do you bring girls here often?”

“Wouldn’t the police like to know,” he deadpanned, crouching down to arrange their little picnic out on the blanket. Bread and cheese found their way out, followed by the meat. And yes, he did have turkey. Last came the cups. He’d have gone for wine cups, but those were in the annoying habit of tipping over when you set them on a blanket. Fancy that. Instead, he’d gone practical: two white coffee mugs, with the Insomniacs Anonymous label.

He poured the cider, and handed her a cup with a sardonically raised eyebrow for accompaniment. “Do you let men blindfold you often? Not that I’m complaining.”

Riley watched as the picnic was laid out, and Riley found that she was actually quite hungry. Damn picnic atmosphere and its sandwiches, she hated playing the stereotype. Rupert quipped back to her question about how often he came to this particular cemetery and Riley shook her head, lips curving slightly. The fact that a comment like that should be creepy completely escaped her for the moment.

Watching as he poured the cider, Riley found the fact that he’d remembered her inability to drink far more concerning than the serial killer jokes. People didn’t remember details about one-night-stands. Then again, before they’d ran into each other at the DMV, Rupert hadn’t had any kind of stand in quite some time. Riley smirked slightly, or maybe she’d just been that memorable.

Taking the proffered glass and not minding in the least that it was something less than fancy, Riley chuckled and shrugged her shoulders, ”Actually no.” she said, ”If anything I’m the one who usually pulls the wool over peoples’ eyes.”

She thought for a moment, then shrugged again, ”Then again, I usually don’t pick up guys at the DMV either.”

Not that she was complaining, it had just been a strange situation. This whole thing was kind of a strange situation, and Riley wondered just how much the little brat freak who had briefly been their topic of conversation had to do with it.

”So.” she said, reaching out and working on a sandwich, ”You never told me your little friend was a mutant.”

>> ”Then again, I usually don’t pick up guys at the DMV either.”

“Neither do I,” Rupert snarked.

>> ”So. You never told me your little friend was a mutant.”

That removed all traces of grinning from his face. What was left still held the shape of a smile, it the way that a corpse held the form of a man. “She came tumbling out of a mirror on you, didn’t she.” He said, as the fact it was. “I’m going to kill her.” Also a fact. “Would you like it done fast or slow?” He started making a sandwich, too. Because that’s what one did, while planning to kill tricksters.

Riley just shrugged when Rupert pointed out that the DMV wasn’t exactly his usual stomping ground either. That led to a moment’s musing over what she would have done if he’d have admitted to picking up one-night-stands there often. How many licenses did one man need? The question had the possibility of boggling the mind of dwelled on for too long, so Riley let it go and took a bite of her carefully prepared sandwich. It was good.

Chewing slowly and thoughtfully, Riley studied the man on the blanket with her as she worked her way through the sandwich. Not her usual type. She’d known that from the start, though, and decided it still did nothing but make the entire situation more interesting. As did his response to her point about the irritating little teenage mutant.

”Lost me a job.” Riley said by way of an answer as her companion went to work making his own sandwich. ”Fell right out of the mirror and into my lap.”

It had been a bad day, but Riley still didn’t feel the least bit bad about anything she’d said to the kid after the fact. It had all been true.

”Fast. She really seems to have your best interests at heart. It would only be right thing to do...” It wasn’t said with warm fuzzy feelings, it was said with a definite snerk of Riley’s own.

”How did you get saddled with her anyway?”

Rupert darkly put together ham, turkey, tomatoes, and sprouts as he listened to Riley speak. Fell out of a mirror, indeed. That sounded familiar.

“She fell out of a mirror onto my bathroom floor. Bleeding.” He slapped a piece of four grain on top, finishing his own sandwich off. “Looked too pathetic to shoot, so I made her breakfast. She returned the favor by showing up where I work and pretending to be my smart-mouthing daughter.”

And somehow, he’d thought it was a good idea to let her drunk bum sleep on his couch that night. Why was that, again? Right. The abandoned puppy look. Now that she was staying in the freak school, he really should look into installing bars on his mirrors. Not that it would stop her from vandalizing them. From the inside.

“So what did you do to make her like you?” The zealot asked. “She doesn’t stalk just anyone, you know.”

That was another thing he needed to look into fixing: the half-lesbian’s fondness for him. He didn’t want it, and he didn’t need it. The brat hadn’t even gotten his brand of scotch right.

Half the sandwich was gone now, and Riley really wasn’t slowing down. It wasn’t that she was particularly hungry, just single-minded. When the sandwich was done and over with, she could move on to something else.

Rupert’s story about Maya was interesting. It seemed that he had a taste for taking in strays off the street. No amount of puppy dog eyes had encouraged Riley to be nice to the brat. Then again, Maya hadn’t lost Rupert a job. She smiled slightly as she worked the sandwich down to a quarter, ”I think you just like to cook for women. No matter how old they are.”

This conversation was going far too well. This whole situation was going far too well. The level of comfort was way too high, and she was enjoying herself way too much. This situation was bad. So Riley did the only thing she could.


”I didn’t do anything to make her like me. Apparently mutants who come within about four feet of me can’t use their powers anymore. She literally fell out of the mirror. Apparently that‘s what happens to her.”

Nobody could like someone like that, right?

No. No one could.

No one could love a mutie, when she’d gotten into his pants by playing normal. No one could love that happening to him twice. What was it, with mutant women? Some kind of perverse opposites attract hormone drive? Were the bags under his eyes just that desirable? Was the wheezing sexy? Did his zealous ranting drive them wild?

“You f***ing freak,” Rupert said levelly—almost pleasantly—with a tight smile on his lips. “Were you planning to tell me that before or after we went to bed again?”

His sandwich was in his hand, forgotten.

Yup. That was more like it. Much more like it. Things had stopped crumbling inside of Riley a long time ago. She’d made sure of it. That’s why it was so shocking when her palm struck out of its own accord and made solid contact with the side of Rupert’s face.

Riley stared at the hand, almost shocked at how much her palm stung.

”I’m not a mutant.” she said, drawing herself up, completely full of righteous indignation. Who the hell did he think he was? Just because this was the reaction Riley had expected, just because this was what she’d wanted…

Her eyes narrowed. ”And you’re flattering yourself way too much.” That wasn’t true, Riley had distinctly known that this outing had at least decent potential to end up where the last had. She hadn’t minded at all.

Key word. Hadn’t. Riley didn’t care why he was reacting so strongly, the point was, he was reacting. It didn’t matter than she hadn’t known what she was that day at the DMV. She knew now. It was definitely better this way. Better it had happened now. She wasn’t even upset. Not at all.

Then the little b**** hit him. Good arm on her. A degree of super strength, probably. Rupert smiled an unpleasant smile as he straightened back up, refusing to rub at the hand print rapidly reddening on his face.

“Always with the violence, your kind is,” he commented with sick cheer. Had there been warning signs? He didn’t know. None that he’d noticed the last time they were together. But then, he hadn’t noticed anything with Raina, either, until well after the fact.

>> ”I’m not a mutant.”

“Right.” He sneered. “Now who are you trying to convince—you or me? Did you not even figure it out until recently, sweet cheeks? Been having a genetic crisis? Poor thing. They’ve got medication for that, you know. I hear half a bottle of sleeping pills will do the trick.”

Rupert never knew when to stop talking.

He just. Kept. Talking. Riley stared in slight disbelief as Rupert continued to run his stupid mouth. Did he realize what an absolute and utter moron he sounded like? Some of his comments hit a little too close to home and Riley found her already stinging palm itching to strike out again. Obviously it wouldn’t help.

Normal people would have just kept their mouths shut. It didn’t matter if Riley had been completely ignorant to the reaction she would get from Rupert when she blabbed her little secret. The smart thing to do would have been to keep her mouth shut.

”Are you completely ignorant? Or just deaf and stupid” she said, not bothering to raise her voice at the venom spouting maniac on the blanket with her.

Reaching out to the purse sitting next to her legs, Riley snapped it open while muttering to herself and grabbed the small stack of well-worn pieces of paper she always carried with her to jobs. Tests, from the Church of Humanity. Rupert was probably just the type of idiot who would think they were fake, though.

”Look for yourself, if you can read.” she said, throwing them at his stupid, smug face as she got to her feet and glared down.

”Best of luck finding another broad dumb enough to go home with you. Guess you should ask for the blood test first next time.” she said, voice cold and calm.

Off she walked through the graveyard, it really didn’t matter that she didn’t have a solitary clue where she was. She was angry, probably more angry than she’d been in quite some time. Why were people able to get under her skin so much recently? There was a road up ahead, and Riley figured if she walked along it long enough she’d find something familiar.

She didn’t cry, she didn’t yell, she didn’t even stomp her feet. Riley had been expecting this from the very beginning. It was the inevitable end, regardless of how sparkly things had seemed. Real life wasn’t like the stories. People like her didn’t get happy endings with acceptance and understanding. It was just a fact of life, and not worth getting upset over. Not anymore.