Gawain watched the girl dig through the contents of her purse. Purses always fascinated him; since he never had any, not even on a Maya day, and Mom's purse usually contained some weird stuff, he still was not sure how they managed to be... bigger on the inside.

>>"I work at Wolf News. I'm a reporter. And I need to be there an hour ago. It's not like they don't know about people suddenly becoming younger."

The girl. Was unbelievable.

"Well, news flash, Miss Reporter" he growled, folding his arms "I don't have a car. And I am sure as hell not putting you on live televison before we figure out what the hell is going on with you bein' a kid again. This could be any number of things. Mutations, drugs, virus... the only place I am taking you is the Mansion, because that's at least safe."

Someone needed to babysit the little red devil.

"And don't even think about going alone. Not gonna happen."

"Of course I'm not going alone," the girl said loftily, tucking things back in her older self's purse just so. "You're coming with me. You're not the kind of man who would let a scared little girl ride the subway all on her own, are you?"

She was starting to get a better feel for this guy. He seemed... like that eighth grader that Cindy Samuels had gotten to buy her a new CD player, just by putting it at the register while he was paying for a case of pop, and saying, 'Buy this.' He definitely didn't seem like the sort of guy that man-handled little girls into going to places they didn't want. Maybe this was her apartment, and maybe she did get here all on her own. But taking her somewhere else against her will? That would definitely be kidnapping. Her threat of screaming stood.

"You need to think about this logically," the little redhead said, tucking the purse over her shoulder. "When crazy things happen, who gets information about it first? News stations. Right? So if you want to help me, then clearly we need to go to the news station. Not the... Mansion."

The Mansion. Was that... Xavier's? As in, her brother's high school? That giant dorky place full of people who dressed in eighties spandex, even though it was so the nineties now? Clark fan-girled over their super-secret missions so much that she was already sick of them.

No. Thank you.

>>"Of course I'm not going alone. You're coming with me. You're not the kind of man who would let a scared little girl ride the subway all on her own, are you?"

Did she not hear anything he had just said? Really?
Gawain decided then and there he was never having a daughter. Or start with one after the teenage years. Yes.

>>"You need to think about this logically. When crazy things happen, who gets information about it first? News stations. Right? So if you want to help me, then clearly we need to go to the news station. Not the... Mansion."

She was so sure of herself. She knew he knew her, she knew he cared for her (enough to be here) and she knew she could get away with anything anytime anywhere just because she was a damn adorable little redhead, and because Gawain would not manhandle a little girl like her.

And that was exactly where she was wrong.

"All right that's it." he groaned, before walking over to chibi-Maxine, picking her up, and hauling her ove his shoulder like a sack of potatoes "I ain't arguing with her missy. For all I know someone can be doing this to mutants, I'm not putting you on a screen with a target on your forehead...
... hey! Stop that!!!"

"That's ridiculous," Maxine said. "I'm a reporter. Who would want to hurt meahh!"

He picked her up. He picked her up, and he slung her over his shoulders, and his shoulder blade was in her stomach.

For a moment, there was shocked silence: like a crystal clear night, in the wake of a plane passing over head. Then, the bomb detonated.

The sound that came out of the redhead's mouth started almost at a coughing squeak. Then she got a good, solid breath in her lungs, and screamed. It was a scream to slice through thin apartment walls; to make neighbors scramble to shut off their smoke detectors only to find that they were flashing a sedate green; to set off car alarms in the street; to decimate hearing within a ten foot radius.

The kicking was simultaneous. It was a full body effort: there was squirming, kicking, pounding with fists. There was war, and if he didn't put her down now, he was going to find that nothing was sacred.

Maxine was twelve, but she could still throw a tantrum with the best of them.

Gawain realized he could not take Maxine into the mirrors.
The scream was going to break them.

Damn the girl was loud.

"Goddamit Maxine!" he yelled over the wailing and the wiggling; it was like trying to hold on to the love child of a Banshee and a hydra. Gawain got repeatedly kicked in the stomach, and little fists were pounding on his kidneys. Fun times.

They did not make it to the mirror. A few mintues of struggle later Gawain unceremoniously dropped the chibi devil onto the couch.

"Unbe-F***ING-lievable!" he growled, holding his ribs, staring at the little girl (from a safe distance) "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Whatever was wrong, it was obviously wrong; there were voices outside, and then came the inevitable pounding on the door. God bless responsible neighbors.

Gawain tried to think it through, but really... a strange man alone in an apartment with a screaming little girl who just got tossed down onto the couch?
There was no way he was getting out of this one.

The feeling of her butt bouncing on creaky old couch cushion was, in a word, victory. The redhead caught her breath in great gasping gulps, flashing green eyes just daring him to try something that stupid again. She'd trained her daddy that bedtime was not at nine (except when mom was home), and she'd train nameless jerk-face man that little girls didn't go on shoulders. It was about time that someone did.

If her ears weren't ringing, she'd have gasped at his language. Adults used those words, and middle schoolers used those words, but adults weren't supposed to use them in front of middle schoolers. As it was, all she heard was a gray fuzz that resolved itself into "...wrong with you?!" and the concerned pounding of neighbors on her door.

There was no way he was getting out of this one.

Without her help.

"Now listen to what I say," the redhead said, rolling off of the couch and smoothing her dress out with a few quick brushes, "or you're going to jail."

This, friends, was an adultnapping.

>>"Now listen to what I say. or you're going to jail."

"I've been to jail." Gawain glared back at the girl. It was an empty threat, he did not want to go back ever again, and it did not make the situation suck any less. Still...

More pounding on the door. Mentions of the police.
Crap.

"Dammit" he took a deep breath "Fine, I'm taking you to the studio. But don't come cryin' to me if someone tries to kill ya."

Taking her by the hand he steered the chibi devil to the bathroom mirror.

"You'll be pleased to know you'll get better at this when you grow up." he frowned at her in the reflection, before he put his hand on the glass.

"Better at wha—?" The girl started to ask. But she was cut off rather abruptly, as they left the world behind. "Whoa."

They were in a dark hallway, punctuated by panes of light like windows into their own distinct worlds. Just ahead, framed by a tasteful oval, she could see the back of a white cat, where it sat curled up next to the back of clocks and picture frames. Its head was raised and its ears begrudgingly flipped forwards, as if it had just been woken up by some ungodly noise. Opposite that, and a few feet closer, was a window out to the street—she recognized the same dingy view as from her own bedroom window. She glanced over her shoulder, and found her bathroom still behind them, oddly distant in its own rectangle.

Her hand tightened around the man's. Not that she was scared, not even startled: after all, of course he had some kind of... power... thing. How else had he gotten into her apartment? It was just like her mom always said: When transported to an alternate reality by a mutant, always remain in contact with them, so they can't leave you behind. And don't forget to—

Maxine. Maxine, are you even listening to me? Turn off that TV, and—

...Right. So, hand in vise-grip, check. She'd just have to figure out the rest on her own.

"What happens if I touch one of the pictures?" She suddenly asked. "Wait, never mind, you probably just end up wherever that is, right?" Stupid question. Only little kids asked stupid questions. "But what happens if you touch one of the walls? Do you, like, fall into some dark dimension of black nothing? How do you get out? Are these all mirrors? Are they, like, in order? Is the distance between them the same as in the real world? Can they see us?"

And, most importantly:

"What are we standing on?"

Maxine could see her feet just fine—her still-in-socks feet. But the floor? That was just as fall into some dark dimension of black nothing as everything else.

This wasn't like a Wile E. Coyote skit, was it? Where if you realized you were standing over nothing, you fell?

Her hand tightened another notch. Circulation: hopefully, his hand didn't need it.

Gawain's fingers were merging into a mitten glove.

>>"What happens if I touch one of the pictures? Wait, never mind, you probably just end up wherever that is, right? But what happens if you touch one of the walls? Do you, like, fall into some dark dimension of black nothing? How do you get out? Are these all mirrors? Are they, like, in order? Is the distance between them the same as in the real world? Can they see us? What are we standing on?"

He pulled her along on the journey, extremely glad that he did not decide to movie-walk with the 1.13 version of Maxine. That would have been a trip and a half.

"We are teleporting" he explained, trying hard to be manly and not wince at the sqeezing on his hand "It's the fastest way to get anywhere. There is no space between the mirrors on this side, really. And no we're not gonna fall into a dark void. If I let you go you'd be stuck in someone's mirror until I came back for you. But don't fret, I'm not lettin' ya go. We're almost there anyway..."

"Teleporting?" Skepticism: she had it. "Don't teleporters... teleport? Like, they start in one place, and them—bamf!—they're somewhere else?" Not to knock on his special kind of teleportation, but... "I didn't picture teleporting with so much walk—"

Wait.

"Did you just say that if you let go, I'll be trapped in someone's mirror?" Her green eyes went as big as dinner plates; her other hand leapt up to grip his arm. Him let go of her? Not going to happen. Also, for the record, it wasn't fretting to take basic precautions against being trapped in someone's mirror for all of eternity. Could you grow old in a mirror and die? Did your body fall out or did you just sort of stay propped up, and the people had to explain to everyone who came over, "oh yes, that's the girl in our mirror, she's been there since my grandmother lived in his house—" Did you have to eat? Drink? Breathe?

If possible, her eyes got even wider. "What are we breathing?"

It was a very good thing that the rectangle in front of them read "SWEN FLOW." On the other side was a respectable lobby, for a respectable news organization.

>>"Teleporting? Don't teleporters... teleport? Like, they start in one place, and them—bamf!—they're somewhere else? I didn't picture teleporting with so much walk—"

"Nope. No 'bamf'." Gawain smirked. This was getting positively amusing all of a sudden.

>>"Did you just say that if you let go, I'll be trapped in someone's mirror?... What are we breathing?"

"So let me get this straight" Gawain chuckled, walking with the girl latched onto his arm tighter than an alien facehugger, towards the news room. "Ya ain't afraid of gettin' killed or under some weird mutant spell, but ya can't handle mirrorwalking? Shoulda thought about that sooner."

And with that, they were out of the rabbit hole and in the newsroom.

"All yours, Maxine."

Her back was straight as a rod, her shoulders set, and her green eyes flashing. "Hey. You're the mirrorwalker. You can get just... just walk out. The rest of us would be trapped in some horrible—"

And now he was dragging her towards one of the rectangles. Her hands redoubled their grip. No way was she going to let him leave her behind as they stepped out into—

The backstage of a newsroom. She tripped over a thick wire as they landed, or materialized, or finished their teleportation—whatever it was. The wire traced from the wall to one of the many cameras pointed at the news desk. This might be the future, but you couldn't tell it from watching studio news: the desk was still the same old horseshoe, and the anchors were still two middle-aged white men and one token smiley woman. Why had she grown up to be a reporter? As soon as the women got old and ugly, they got replaced. Maxine wasn't even that pretty to begin with: she had red hair. And freckles.

There was a red "ON AIR" sign glowing in back. They'd popped out of a small mirror on the wall—probably for last-minute make-up checks as the anchors hurried on stage. The cameraman they'd appeared next to looked like he really, really wanted to say something, but couldn't; the anchors looked like they were suddenly smiling twice as hard as usual.

"—really, kids say the darnedest things."

"They really do, Harold."

"That they do, Silvia. And now, over to Jim, with the weather."

The "ON AIR" sign went dark. The smiles dropped.

"I... I'm..." She swallowed, and started over, with a flick of red hair over her shoulders. "I'm Maxine Ralls. The Boss wants me to do a segment on all the mutants who've turned into kids. So. Where's my seat?"

Gawain pried ten fingers out of his flesh once the mirrorwalk was over. Maxine could take care of herself now. She wanted to go to the newsroom, he took her to the newsroom. That was all there is to it. He had all the right to walk out of here right now.
Dammit.

>>"I... I'm... I'm Maxine Ralls. The Boss wants me to do a segment on all the mutants who've turned into kids. So. Where's my seat?"

Okay, this was way too priceless to just walk out on. Chibi Maxine taking on the big guys? Someone need to document it. Good thing there were guys around. With cameras. It was kind of their thing.

"Oh god. It is her, isn't it?"

Was not the reaction she was expecting. Neither was:

"Who else needs more coffee to deal with this?" And the accompanying raise of hands. "Right. I'll be back."

Maxine... was beginning to get the impression that she was not MVP of the newsroom. On behalf of her older self, she lifted up her head and stalked forward. The anchor who'd gone to get coffee had the central seat at the news desk. It was a tall chair: the fancy leather high-backed kind that said I'm important, with the swivel and wheels at its base that said but I still sympathize with the little man. She set her hands on its seat, giving herself the little boost she needed to comfortably sit down, and fiddled with its knobs and levers until it lifted her up as high as the other two. Now at a proper elevation, she stared directly at the cameras. Because the guy to her right, hiding his face behind his hand as his shoulders shook with laughter? Not important. The woman to her left, her smile looking even faker than usual? Clearly just jealous of her youth.

Coffee guy was back, and he'd brought someone in an executive suit along with him. Maxine recognized the voice from the phone as she looked over and met his gaze.

"...I'm going to allow this," he said, after taking a long, slow sip from the cup he'd grabbed out of his employee's hand.

And with that, the cameraman declared: "We're live in three, two, one—"

Gawain couldn't help but admire the grace with what chibi Maxine took her place in front of the cameras. Not a sign of stage fright or shyness.
She really was a natural.

People brought in coffee. Gawain wished he could have some. This was going to be a damn long day...
Boss man took the coffee, and Gawain stood back, arms folded. Ready to jump in case someone took a shot at Maxine. Figuratively speaking.
Maybe he could be fast enough to save the guy in time...

>>"...I'm going to allow this. We're live in three, two, one—"

"And may the odds be ever in your favor" the young knight muttered, watching the show unfold.