Locke knew full well why he had to speak with Ms. Taylor. His grades had been slipping since the start of the school year, and not just for math or science. Courses that he usually excelled in he had dropped down a full letter grade. If he had been able to play any sort of sport the two huge F's that he was pulling in his worse subjects would have kept him from touching a baseball. No doubt that once news of the bad report card would make Kendra demand he come back to California so that she could make sure he was studying and doing his homework. He had taken the SAT and did better than he had thought he would. But the scores on that test did not reflect the student standing outside Ms. Taylor's office, the one with the downwards spiraling grades.

The truth was that Locke couldn't have cared less about his grades. Yes, he was finally getting together a plan for his future, and yes, he knew how important his schoolwork was. The stressful junior year was over, and he really should be sending in more college applications, but there was something going on in his life that kept him awake at night.

His backpack often was heavy. Monday through Friday it would be weighted down with the absurd amount of textbooks, folders, and notebooks that any other senior had to have. When spending a day in the city there would be a few water bottles just in case. Right now what was making his backpack heavy was his dictionary and thesaurus. The stream of "letters" had been constant. Sometimes there might be just one photo, or maybe a newspaper clipping from his elementary school years. This last letter had held close to ten photos. What was the most disturbing thing was that there had been a change in the pictures. No longer did he get pictures of him as a toddler. There were pictures of him in New York now, both before and after his haircut.

"Hey," he croaked as he slinked into Ms. Taylor's office, slinging his backpack off. The sooner the lecture got over with the sooner he could go back to staring at the pictures and trying to figure out who was watching him. Just last year he had turned up in Ms. Taylor's office wanting her help with school. Now he didn't even want to hear her tell him to focus more on his studies.

Gemma looked up from the paperwork and smiled.

"Hi, Locke. Come on in."

Of course there was going to be talk about grades. She was the counselor, after all, she needed to talk to kids about grades. Especially if they had been showing promise, and then suddenly started to fall. There was always something in the background of those. And she was determined to find out what it was. Schoolwork was important; but it was a symptom, not the cause, 9 times out of 10.

"Please, take a seat" she motioned to him. The chair was not too close to her desk, if he wanted to, he could pull it just a little bit farther, and be out of her aura. She knew he was not entirely comfortable with not having his powers.

"I guess you know why you are here" she said. There was no need going around it.

"Because I'm not passing two of my classes, and I've gone from getting A's and B's in my good classes to C's and D's." Ms. Taylor didn't prance around the subject, so why should Locke? It wasn't as though he hadn't seen the change in his grades coming. He knew that his work had been getting progressively worse. Locke took the seat and held onto his backpack tightly. She had remembered how uncomfortable he felt to not have his earth sense on.

"I know I can do better," Locke chewed on his lip, trying to decide if he should finally tell someone what had been going on for months. He wanted so much to have someone else handle the situation. After all, Locke was only seventeen and he didn't know how to deal with a person having a crush on him, let alone a stalker. What held him back was the fear of what would happen if he told someone about the pictures. There were pictures that had him with his dad, pictures that Locke had never seen and they were like gold to him. Locke wanted those pictures.

But he knew that it was dangerous. These recent pictures clearly indicated that his stalker knew he was in the city, and chopping off most of his hair didn't help to keep him from being found. Locke loved it here, and was afraid that telling someone the danger he was in would mean going back to San Francisco.

>>"Because I'm not passing two of my classes, and I've gone from getting A's and B's in my good classes to C's and D's. I know I can do better,"

Gemma nodded with a small smile.

"I was sure you know that without me telling you." she agreed. The boy was not stupid. Actually, he was rather smart, good grades or not. Grades, as Gemma was well aware of, did not always reflect how clever a student was. Sometimes they just reflected how much time they bothered to spend with schoolwork...

"Now that we both agree on that" she said, looking at him "I just wanted to ask you if there is something I can help you with. Or something you would like to talk about. In my experience, people don't just go from good student to failing. There is usually something that distracts them. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, I just wanted you to know that I am here if you need help."

There was no lecture. That threw Locke off guard. He couldn't imagine a situation where there wouldn't be a lecture. His dad would have given him one, his step mother would have given him one, heck even his crap-tastic counselor back in San Francisco would have given him one, even if he couldn't remember which student he was talking to. What Ms. Taylor was more interested in was why his grades were going down like the Hindenburg. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say he really didn't know what she could want to know about.

But he could feel the dread on his neck and the weight on his lap of those pictures. "I've just been getting some really weird mail is all." He was going to play this cool, as if disturbing mail causing you to fail classes was a perfectly normal thing. Locke knew there was no getting anything past Ms. Taylor for long, and was surprised that he had managed to go this long without having to spill the beans. If he had kept his grades up it could have gone for even longer.

Locke unzipped the backpack and started to pull out the stack of photos he had gotten, starting with the first blurred one of him and his father. There were pictures of him ranging from baby pictures, up until about eight. A newspaper clipping with him crossing the street to his elementary school with other kids, school pictures... At least thirty pictures and clippings just from the first half of his life. Pictures that, for the most part he had never even seen before, and a few that he had thought his dad had lost. "These came yesterday," he said, adding to the pile the most recent arrivals. One was a blurred picture, but it was clearly of Locke, for the subject in the picture was crouched, hands on ground, and in the background was the start of one of his golems. "I think that's from last Christmas. I don't know when this one is from, but it's got to be recent." The last picture practically screamed stalker. Locke, with his hair still in the awkward recently cut stage, was distracted by something, most of his body turned away from whoever had taken the picture.

>> "I've just been getting some really weird mail is all."

Gemma nodded, waiting for him to continue; Locke opened his backpack and started showing her what he meant by 'weird mail'. She knew at once that 'weird' was an understatement. 'Threatening' was a better word.
She did not need much of an explanation to know what this meant. Someone was stalking Locke. It was not unusual, although she had never had a case like this before; she had similar ones, with girls usually, but this, just by the amount of pictures, looked far more serious.

>>"These came yesterday. I think that's from last Christmas. I don't know when this one is from, but it's got to be recent."

Gemma's eyes narrowed as she looked at the pictures.

"This is serious, Locke" she said, finally looking up at him "I'm glad you told me. Do you know who is sending these pictures? Do you know where they come from?"

Some people were just stalked by random strangers; but there was a chance that Locke would actually know, or at least suspect, who his stalker was. It was a place to start anyway...

At no point since the "letters" had started arriving did he think that it was anything less than serious. He knew that it was dangerous. There hadn't been any notes, only the pictures, but still the fact that he was getting them meant that someone who was watching him very closely and knew where he was living now. Telling Ms. Taylor about this should have made him feel better, but the fear was finally allowed to come out. "Don't tell Kendra," he asked in a small voice, "She doesn't know, and I don't want to go back to California."

Locke usually didn't have problems talking to adults. It was easier for him to look people in their face if they weren't a peer. Right now though he couldn't look at anything but his hands that were clutching tightly onto his backpack. His knuckles had turned white. If Ms. Taylor sent him back to California it wouldn't surprise him. In her position he would probably do that. Clearly New York wasn't safe. To not send him away made no sense.

She wanted to know if he had a clue who could be sending him these pictures. He shook his head no. Most of the pictures he had never seen before. "Nobody I know, otherwise it'd be an email." That was what made everything so frightening. Someone had to have been following him his whole life if they had this many pictures. He pulled out one of the birthday card sized envelopes and handed it over to Ms. Taylor. The postal stamp was blurred, and the stamp was one of those forever stamps that could be from anywhere. Like every other envelope Locke's name was very clearly written, along with his address at the institute. No way that it could have ended up going to his home in San Francisco.

"I mean I've been getting them for a little while now." Technically almost five months. The first one came shortly after his birthday. "I'm not the kind to have a stalker. I'm not anyone famous, I don't talk to girls really, and the only guys I've really hung out with have been students here. Nobody that would have my kindergarten picture."

>>"Don't tell Kendra. She doesn't know, and I don't want to go back to California."

Gemma nodded reassuringly; she could tell Locke was scared, anyone would be with a stalker like this. And she knew enough on the topic to know he was not ready yet to tell anyone. Besides, if a stalker was this serious, sending him home was not an option anyway. That was not going to make the stalker go away.

>>"Nobody I know, otherwise it'd be an email. I mean I've been getting them for a little while now. I'm not the kind to have a stalker. I'm not anyone famous, I don't talk to girls really, and the only guys I've really hung out with have been students here. Nobody that would have my kindergarten picture."

She nodded again, and looked up from the photos at Locke.

"All right, Locke, first of all: it is not your fault. Stalkers are not right in the head; whatever the reason this one fixated on you, none of it is your fault, you have to know that."

She allowed him some time to understand how serious she was about that. Then she continued.

"Second: the Mansion is safe. I would like you to stay within the Mansion grounds while we sort this out. This is the safest place you can be in this city, I promise. Okay?"

Another pause; she glanced down at the pictures again, then back at him.

"We're going to figure this out, and quick. All right? We will need to know everything you can tell us about your pictures. When and where they were taken, how old were you, everything. That will help us work faster."

But that was not all... Gemma sighed.

"And I will need to have the police involved. I will introduce you to Detective Cervantes before we do anything, okay? He has been helping us with cases involving Mansion students, and he is a mutant as well. You will get to ask all your questions, and make your own decisions. Sounds good?"

Not his fault. Locke hadn't thought that having a stalker could be his fault. Just having one was beyond his comprehension, which might have been yet another reason why Locke had waited so many months to tell anyone about this. The question still remained Why me? Ms. Taylor was right about his stalker not being right in the brain. "Why send me pictures of myself? Don't stalkers usually hold on to them?"

She wasn't sending him away. In fact Ms. Taylor was confining Locke to the Mansion. As long as he was able to stay in New York Locke didn't mind being stuck at the school. "Thank you,"he mumbled into his shirt collar. With his head down like this all he could look at was that stack of photos. Locke understood that any information he gave could only help, but most of those pictures he didn't even remember. Almost half his life was captured in that stack but the details were vague for so many of them. It was his dad who had put together the photo albums in the house, and those weren't organized in any way.

Locke reached over onto the desk and sifted through the pictures until he came across one with a classroom full of second graders. He flipped the picture over, and there was his dad's handwriting. Bug, second row, third in. "That's Dad's handwriting, so don't freak over that, but as far as the rest of it goes..." Locke shrugged his shoulders, "I've never seen ones that didn't come from school. They go from I guess two up until I'm eight and then... nothing. Just this huge gap in time. I can tell you this much though. With all but the last two, they're from San Fransisco. I remember that CVS."

Police involvement? Locke cringed. Police would want to tell Kendra, and while Ms. Taylor said that Locke could make his own decisions Kendra would get what she wanted. "Um, up until the police part."

>>"Why send me pictures of myself? Don't stalkers usually hold on to them?"

She nodded. "They usually do. But this one apparently wants you to know that he is watching you. That is probably part of the game."

That did not sound so reassuring. But Locke looked more than a bit relieved that he was going to stay at the Mansion. Gemma made a note to talk to Sam about security. Her "talk to Sam" list was getting longer.

>>"That's Dad's handwriting, so don't freak over that, but as far as the rest of it goes... I've never seen ones that didn't come from school. They go from I guess two up until I'm eight and then... nothing. Just this huge gap in time. I can tell you this much though. With all but the last two, they're from San Fransisco. I remember that CVS."

Gemma nodded, and made some more notes. She needed Jorge, or some other expert, to ask the right questions; but it was a start. At least Locke was willing, and composed enough, to answer the questions. Smart boy.

>>"Um, up until the police part."

"We'll talk about that" she nodded again "I'll let you meet him first, and talk to him, off the record. Okay? He can explain to you how things work."

She turned her attention back to the pictures.

"So. These ones are family photos, from your childhood. Any idea who could have these? Relatives, family friends? Or maybe someone broke into your house at some point?"

"Some sick game,"Locke said. Life was just twisted sometimes. Locke failed at getting a girl to like him, yet somehow attracted a stalker that was even more of a freak than others. Why couldn't he draw the attention of the cute girl at Barnes and Noble instead of someone who had been following him most of his life? "Probably wants to have me in a body bag," he grumbled, trying to make it sound like a joke. The possibility that his stalker might end up doing that was looming above his head, but he needed something to break the tension. His dad wasn't around to keep him safe anymore. Now the term stalker felt less like the word used for obsessive, though unwanted and unwelcomed, love, and more like the term predator. How sick did you have to be to have pictures of a two year old?

There was no way that Ms. Taylor was going to be willing to let this play out without police involvement. Really, Locke hadn't held much hope that this could. It was one of those situations though where even though you've done nothing wrong, having someone who could punish you get involved. This isn't your fault. Other than your bad grades, but does she really want me to be an 'A' student when I'm worrying if someone's going to break into my room and shave my head? "Off the record right?"[/color] Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if Locke could get a feeling for Detective Cervantes.

Right, who could have had the pictures. "I have an aunt and uncle in the city, but I doubt that Dad kept in touch with them much. They were my mom's family and I only ever met them once." Kendra probably had a few pictures of him that she had been given when things got serious between her and Locke's dad, but she wouldn't have sent him them without telling him, and he recognized her handwriting. "Harper might have a picture or two, but he knows that I don't really do snail mail, and there wouldn't be that big time gap. Uh..." It's hard to think of every single person that you might have known throughout your life.

Which left the option of someone having broken into his house. Unless someone had done so since he moved out east Locke didn't know of anyone having done so. He tried to picture what that would have been like, seeing in almost a haze like state his dad talking to someone in uniform while someone tried to keep him out of earshot. "Nobody broke in that I know of. Not unless it was after I moved out here, but again, that big age gap..."

>>"Some sick game. Probably wants to have me in a body bag,"

"Don't even think that" Gemma shook her head "One, I promised to keep you safe. And two, stalkers don't usually want their prey dead. It is horrible to say, but you are more interesting to him alive."

Not that it was reassuring, not really.

>>"Off the record right?"

She nodded. Jorge was trained to deal with that.

>>"I have an aunt and uncle in the city, but I doubt that Dad kept in touch with them much. They were my mom's family and I only ever met them once. Harper might have a picture or two, but he knows that I don't really do snail mail, and there wouldn't be that big time gap. Uh... Nobody broke in that I know of. Not unless it was after I moved out here, but again, that big age gap..."

"All right" she nodded "Here is what I want you to do. Stay in the Mansion, and don't take phone calls. You are safe here. Also, go over all the letters and pictures you got, and try to make notes of anyting, everything that you remember about them. The more the better, however small the detail is. All right? I'll talk to the Detective and have him come over to talk to you. Off the record."

She sighed.

"So, this is why your grades were falling, right?" she asked him "Do you want me to talk to your teachers? I am sure we can figure something out."

"Stalkers also don't usually give you the pictures they have of you,"Locke pointed out. His stalker already was breaking one of the usual rules, so why not break more? This was nothing to joke about, but there was a certain amount of seriousness to Locke's statement. "I'm just being a realist. Whoever is sending me these isn't acting in a normal abnormal way. Right now I might be interesting to them alive, but that could only be temporary."

Locke found it strange that he was able to process that thought so calmly. He couldn't sleep at night without a light source, yet thinking that his stalker might kill him did not induce him into a full blown panic. By no means was he cool with this. The bad report card showed that much. "I know I'm safe here. Plenty of workable material plus a Swiss army knife of other mutants and that Lovecraft program. Staying here isn't a problem, neither is phone calls," Locke blushed a little, "I um.. don't have a cell phone." He probably was the only seventeen year old who didn't.

Ms. Taylor gave Locke his assignment. Write down every single detail about the pictures. A monumental task given how many there were and how little he knew about them. "For now can I not get mail? I mean..." Locke took his pictures back, shoving them into the envelope and sticking that in his backpack as quickly as possible. He didn't want to see them anymore. "They've got new pictures, pictures of me now. I don't want to know what comes next."

They were back to his grades again, and he didn't know if he should be relieved or not. "They went down because I had bigger things to worry about than reading Animal Farm or figuring out what a mu is. High school is about balancing your stresses right? I shouldn't have let them slip, so I should handle it on my own right?"

>>"Stalkers also don't usually give you the pictures they have of you. I'm just being a realist. Whoever is sending me these isn't acting in a normal abnormal way. Right now I might be interesting to them alive, but that could only be temporary."

The kid was smart. Clearly scared and confused, but smart. Gemma almost smiled a bit at that. As long as he had the brains to be careful, he was safer than any security system could keep him. She just hoped he was smart enough to know that too.

>>"I know I'm safe here. Plenty of workable material plus a Swiss army knife of other mutants and that Lovecraft program. Staying here isn't a problem, neither is phone calls. I um.. don't have a cell phone."

Huh. That was new. Gemma hardly ever saw kids without tapping on cellphones these days. Locke clearly was not one of them. Another thing that set him apart. She wondered how he was doing with all the other students. She made a mental note to ask later.

>>"For now can I not get mail? I mean... They've got new pictures, pictures of me now. I don't want to know what comes next."

She nodded. "I can monitor your mail if you want me to. Look at it before you do."
That was the least she could do for him. Also, a responsibility, as long as she was taking care of him, and everyone else in the school. Unless, of course, Jorge wanted to take care of the future letters...

>>"They went down because I had bigger things to worry about than reading Animal Farm or figuring out what a mu is. High school is about balancing your stresses right? I shouldn't have let them slip, so I should handle it on my own right?"

She smiled a bit.

"You shouldn't handle it on your own. That's why I am here, my job is to help you with things like that. You clearly have a lot going on right now. I think your studies is the part that we can figure out easy. How about you take it little by little? I'll take to your teachers, and you catch up with what you missed in your own time."

Thankfully Ms. Taylor was willing to screen his mail. Locke didn't want to know when the next batch of pictures came if it was going to have recent pictures of him. It was only the pictures that had his dad in them that Locke wanted, and those had thinned out. "Thank you Ms. Taylor, there won't be much. These have been the only thing I've gotten lately." Kendra hadn't mentioned in her last email sending him anything, and she certainly would have said if he should expect something from his brother or sister. Other than the stalker letters Locke only ever got something from home. Even in California Locke's pile of mail consisted of junk that was addressed to "Current Resident".

Locke had played catch up before on classwork, back when he had been hospitalized and had to learn to walk again. Yes he had managed to get back on track, but it had been a messy affair. He dreaded having to go through that again. "I want to graduate on time," which was why this whole situation sucked so much. Other than the obvious having a psychopath that was fixated on him knowing where he lived of course. For the first time in a long time Locke had been happy, and had a direction for himself. It seemed like this whole stalker thing was going to delay him in school unless he could go back in time and retake all his classes without the interference of those letters. "So I can't just let the failing grades go by. But can I even catch up at this point?"