As days went today had been long and tedious and Sam was starting to seriously wish that it would just end. He had spent all of his day wandering the city in search of homeless shelters in which he could conduct his survey. Because he had after all chosen sociology as his major and he was now required to go out and get some actual data on what people did and how they lived.

So far the data he had collected was slim compared to the insults and abuse he had received. As it turned out homeless people did not really like talking about themselves to an Asian kid with what they considered to be a posh London accent. He had gotten so desperate at one point that he had actually considered trying to use his power to get him places. However the limitations of his ability had quickly put at stop to that idea, as he doubted anyone would believe that their loved one was performing a sociology survey.

He looked at his watch, it read ten fifteen. He had left the mansion this morning at just after eleven which meant that he had been doing this for nearly twelve hours. During which time he had stopped off for lunch quickly at around three but had eaten nothing since and now his stomach was making him pay for that. He let out a sigh, it was not really that he wanted to still be out and hungry at this time, it was just that he was pretty much completely lost now.

The last shelter he had gone too had been in a maze of small alleyways and when he had left there almost an hour ago he must off taken a wrong turn on his way back to the subway. Now he was even more lost and he had to admit that the alley he was in now was a lot darker than he would have liked. But he pushed on because he could hear a road not far off and he was hoping that if he could get back to that he would find some indication of how to get back to somewhere warm with food.

Shane just wanted this night to be over. As he sat on the cold, hard cement, back up against the brick wall of the alley, he played the events of the evening over in his head. There was the wonderful feeling of seeing his mother for the first time in years; he couldn’t think of a time when he’d been happier in recent years. Then there was the strange man wandering through the house, gun in hand. He hardly even noticed a shot had been fired when he knocked the man down, but the image of his mother lying on the kitchen floor holding her bleeding wound was engraved in his mind, and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

He’d spent the whole night blaming everyone else for the tragedy. He’d even managed to get into a fight with a kid who happened to get in his way, but sitting here with his thoughts there was one thing that was clear to him. It was his fault. If he hadn’t been there, nothing would have happened. He knew this was true, but he wasn’t quite ready to admit to it to himself just yet.

All he wanted to do right now was get some shut-eye in peace and solitude. It’d been well over 24 hours since the last time he’d slept, and he was exhausted. Of course, none of that was helping him actually pass out. He leaned up against the wall, wriggling himself around trying to get comfortable. He couldn’t seem to calm his mind at all, and his heart was still racing after all this time. He’d managed to lose a fair bit of his mass and weight, so perhaps eating soon would be his best option, but he couldn’t even comprehend doing that until he’d managed at least a few hours of sleep.

He wasn’t having much more luck getting comfortable now then he had been since he first decided this was the place to collapse, but suddenly another person happened to wander in where he was resting. Finally, someone else he could blame for his troubles. He was starting to get good at it.

“Piss off!” he shouted before he’d even managed to lay eyes on the stranger. He tossed a box in the direction of their footsteps, which bounced harmlessly several feet from where boy was standing. Had he been more awake, he may have taken to a much more aggressive approach, but he was almost too tired to move.

As Sam followed the sound of traffic he was, for once, very grateful that he had forgotten to charge his ipod the day before. It was something he forgot to do quite regularly and it drove him crazy but no matter how much he hated himself for forgetting he just could not seem to quick the habit. Tonight however his absent mindedness was what was leading him back to civilization, or so he hoped.

He made his way further down the alley and into the shadows, was this really the way forward? Doubt started to flood him and he shot a look back at the way he had just come. There was nothing to tell him if he was right or wrong, except that back there was well light and up in front was dark and gloomy. Swallowing his sense of foreboding the teen decided to push on. The road sounded close now, he was probably better off not turning back.

“Piss off!”

The sudden burst of sound startled him so badly that it felt as though his heart was trying to climb out of his chest. He had not really understood what had been said if anything but he did note the object that suddenly came flying in his direction. Whatever it was missed by a mile but that did not ease his fear. There was someone there in the gloom at the foot of the wall, he could just make out a figure slumped on the ground. Was it a drunk? Probably, who else shouts random things at you while throwing stuff? Not that the idea of it being a drunk put him anymore at ease.

He looked back the way he had come; the brightly light path was starting to look a lot more tempting. However he could almost swear he could see the flash of headlights up ahead… So what it really came down to was how afraid he was of one drunken person. The answer was pretty damned scared but the more he studied the path ahead the more certain he became that he could get far enough away from the man to get past unmolested. Okay it was decided he would take the shortest route home, gathering up his courage he edged forward and away from the shape.

However the best laid plans never quite work out. As he was making his way slowly round the figure he kept his eyes locked on the shape straining to catch any movement that might betray an attack. Which meant that he was not looking where he was putting his feet… Suddenly the ground disappeared from where it should have been and he found himself falling forward towards the person he had been so diligently avoiding.

Instinctively he put out his hand to break his fall and a sharp jolt of pain ran up his arms as his hands impacted the pavement. He let out a hiss of pain and slowly looked up to assess the situation. Which was a bad call, he should just have stood up straight away. Because as it turned out he was now only inches away from that figure that looked just as dark from close up as it had from a distance.

As he met the other’s eyes, those white empty eyes, fear took over and that tell tale prickling sensation spread through him. He knew he was looking at someone that could have come directly from one of his nightmares; however he no longer had any idea who that person was looking at. His mutation had kicked in and whose appearance he now wore was out of his control.

Shane nursed his arm after tossing the box. He hadn’t quite thought that action through and the wound on his shoulder burned with pain from the sudden and excessive use. He winced audibly, clutching the stained clothing covering the damage. The feeling was taking the bulk of his attention almost completely, to the point where the stranger from moments earlier nearly managed to sneak past him.

He watched the young man cross in front of him carefully. Although it was clear that he was concerned himself, Shane knew he was in no shape to deal with anyone if they were to start any kind of altercation with him, so he kept his distance. The man kept moving forward, seemingly avoiding eye contact at all cost, until he quite suddenly tripped, crashing down right in front of the groaning shape shifter. That’s when Shane’s concerns really started to develop.

Right before his (admittedly blurring) eyes he saw this thin boy change shape. Another mutant, he thought to himself, but then it started to become clear what the boy was changing into. His mother.

Awestruck, he stared directly into his mother’s eyes, his jaw hanging completely open. How could this be happening? Less then two days ago he watched her die. If it was a trick, how could this kid know what she looked like? There was even the looming notion that he’d finally died himself, from the wound most likely, and he was able to see his mother now that his spirit had moved on.

There was a battle of conflicting emotions in his chest. He was both thrilled to see her face again, but the circumstances surrounding her sudden appearance were leaving him skeptical. But still, despite his best efforts to conceal his excitement, he did let one word out, tinged with a tone of wonder.

“Mom?”

Sam watched helplessly as the other’s eyes widened in shock. Whoever he had just turned into seemed to have come as a surprise. Not that that was unexpected, he knew full well that the fact that someone you know and love suddenly turning up in a dark alley was enough to surprise mostly anyone. But there was something more than just surprise in the man’s expression something that looked like a mix of awe and anguish.

Whatever it was Sam was pretty sure that it did not bode well for him. He started slowly readjusting his position so that he could make a dash in the right direction when the time was right. During those few seconds he kept his gaze firmly locked with the eerie white ones facing him. Tensing the muscles in his calves he started to count to three in his mind; at three he would run.

One… Two…

“Mom?”

Three never came.

There was something in that question that stopped the illusion mutant in his tracks. He did not know if it was the fragility of the word and all the emotions it carried or whether the fact that this man’s most beloved person was his mother. But emotions echoed through Sam and brought up a sadness he had not known he was carrying. As far as he was concerned he was angry at his mother for forcing him out of her life, he had not realized how hurt he actually was that she no longer wanted to see him.

He straightened up and sat on his heels and this time he actually took the time to look at the person he had been so diligently avoiding. The man was a mess, his clothes were tattered and if his poor night vision was not falling him bloodstained. If he had not thrown something at him earlier, Sam would now be ready to believe that this guy could be more scared of him than the other way round. However the man was clearly also a mutant and Sam was still wary of the nature of his powers. Tentatively he decided that he should at least answer the man’s question.

“No, I’m not your mother.”

He knew that his statement probably did not seem very credible right now for his powers also leant him the voice of the person he was copying. There was however one sure way of convincing people that it was an illusion, touch. His body did not change, he just projected a layer of illusion between himself and the person targeted by his mutation.

“If you don’t believe me that you can touch me, this appearance is an illusion.”

Now all he had to do was turn the damned thing off.

This evening was becoming a more confusing ordeal then his mind could deal with in its current state. In only seconds he’d managed to forget that the woman in front of him had been a boy just moments before, and he was now completely convinced that this was his mother he was staring at. Nothing was going to convince him otherwise.

>> “No, I’m not your mother.”

Nothing would convince him, but a confession like that would certainly give him a run for his money. Unfortunately for the boy behind the disguise, Shane’s delirious state took the declaration of “my appearance is an illusion” to mean that his angel/ghost theory was in fact true.

Shane slumped forward, moving onto his knees from the slouched position he’d been resting in. He was careful with the movements of his arm, placing his hand into a pocket in the attempt to simulate a sling while placing his other hand on the ground, leaning forward until he was only inches from his mother’s face.

He reached out to stroke her hair, as she had suggested, and unsurprisingly his hand just passed through the illusion like some kind of hologram. He repeated the test again, just to make sure that he had indeed seen his hand pass through her hair. This truly was the strangest night of his life.

Puzzled by how and why this was happening, Shane decided it was time to start getting some answers, and who better to get them from then the source?

“So you’re dead then?” He asked the spirit. He paused trying to read her equally puzzled expression before continuing the interrogation. “If you are dead, how are you able to be here?” He hesitated on the part he really wanted to know but was afraid to ask.

“Have I died too?”

As the other man leaned forward to inspect him, Sam nervousness grew exponentially. He was trying very hard to be calm but the more he tried the more stressed and scared he became and that meant that switching his power off was becoming more and more impossible to achieve. He decided that step one in calming down was sitting still so he concentrated on that as the battered mutant reached out his hand to confirm whether or not he was lying. Surely once that guy’s hand passed through his glamour then there could be no more confusion. He’d probably have to apologize but at least he’d be free to go, right?

So he stayed still as the hand reached out past his ear to try and connect with something that was not really there. He watched the other’s expression turn from genuinely surprised to troubled. Well Sam had never been able to experience his own power but he reckoned that it must be pretty weird having your hand just pass through someone. As the dark figure returned to a sitting position he was expecting to be berated for not having a hold on his power or even maybe an apology for having been mistaken for someone else, but that was not to be.

“So you’re dead then?”

Wait, what? The man’s statement was so unexpected that Sam found that for a moment he could not really comprehend what he was being asked. Dead? Why would he be dead? How did looking like this guy’s mother make him dead?

“If you are dead, how are you able to be here?”

Slow realization began to dawn on Sam. The more this guy said the more the pieces fell into place. Apparently he was not taking to him; he was talking to the illusion… The thought of it made Sam feel sick, not because the guy was crazy but because it meant that whoever he was his mum was dead, or probably dead. A wave of sadness and sympathy washed over Sam, followed very shortly by a wave of fear. How was this guy sitting in an alley, beaten up wondering if his mother was dead or not? It seemed really fishy to Sam.

“Have I died too?”

Sam knew the question needed an answer but he felt he had to be really careful what he said right now. The last thing he wanted to do was make this guy anymore upset. He felt that at least he could tell him he was not dead and who knew maybe suggesting that he get help for those wounds would get them out of this horrible alley and back to somewhere a lot safer.

“You’re not dead but you’re hurt. Those injuries need seeing to.”

There that seemed like a nice motherly type of thing to say. As for whether she was dead or not that was not something he could answer. So he decided to make something up to try and stop anymore unanswerable questions coming his way.

“As for what happened to me, I can’t remember any of it.”

All of this was excellent news to Shane. As terrible as the last few days had been, he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on life just yet. Hearing that he was still breathing, especially from a spirit, was very reassuring. The other sampling of good news was that his mother didn’t seem to remember what happened. Perhaps one of the reasons he wasn’t ready to give up on life yet had something to do with his refusal to take the blame for what happened to her. Hearing that she didn’t remember absolved him of the guilt, at least in his twisted, delusional mind. He was perfectly content with living a lie as long as no one else knew the truth.

Despite her efforts to remind him of his wounds, he still couldn’t manage to get past the fact that there was a ghost in front of him. If both of the two logical reasons for her being there weren’t the actual reasons (those being to escort him to the other side, or haunt him for what he’d done), then what was? He gave his shoulder a glare, trying to cover up the exposed wound with other pieces of his jacket before returning his inquisitive gaze back to his mother.

“If you’re not here for me, what are you doing here?”

He wasn’t quite demanding, but he had a stern quality in his voice; the kind of tone you use when it’s clear you don’t want to beat around the bush. His gaze was firm, and a little suspicious. Not everything was adding up here, and if this was all some kind of joke to someone, he didn’t want to play along with it any longer then he had to.

Sam was glad to see that he had managed to draw the other man’s attention back to his wound. Maybe they could get out of this dark alley and back to somewhere more civilized. He knew the mansion had a very good medical staff; maybe they could go there… though moving an obviously wounded mutant through the streets would not be easy. His hope, however was short lived, as those white eyes came back to rest on him.

“If you’re not here for me, what are you doing here?”

The tone on which the question was asked suggested that the truth would be a welcome thing. But he had tried the truth and it had been ignored. Suppressing a sigh at the absurdity of the whole situation he decided that he would try the truth again… although he might bend it a bit to follow along with the whole ghost thing.

“I’m not really here; this is an illusion or a hallucination if you want. It’s….” He sought for what to say next when a flash of genius hit him. “… because of your wounds. The person you’re looking at is just a stranger trying to help. You really should let him help.”

Then with an effort of will that made him break out in a cold sweat, he forced his power off. It was a gradual thing, which he supposed could only help the other man decide that the ghost was fading. Now all he had to do was hope that he didn’t get pummeled.

>> “The person you’re looking at is just a stranger trying to help. You really should let him help.”

Eyebrows shot out in different directions when Shane heard these words. He didn’t really understand, which was in part because it didn’t make any sense. His mother was now speaking in the 3rd person, and referring to herself as a ‘him?’ This was a pretty drastic deviation from her personality just moments earlier.

He opened his mouth to call it in to question, but before he could make a sound, he could see the image of his mother fading away right in front of him. His first reaction was panic. He wasn’t ready for her to go yet. He hadn’t really learned much of anything from her being here. There must have been a point to her visit.

Then the second face appeared. A young boy’s features started to appear as his mother’s melted away. The panic disappeared along with it, leaving Shane with a feeling of betrayal. He had no memory of the boy from earlier (most of the night’s events prior to the ghost’s arrival were a bit of a blur) so he didn’t recognize him. He was aware enough to know when he’d been conned though, and he wasn’t happy about it. But there was one thing that didn’t really make sense to him.

“Who are you?” He shouted at the boy. “And how do you know what my mother looks like?” He didn’t get up. In fact, he barely moved at all. The kid was right up in his face, he could grab him if he tried to run, but he was in no shape for a scrap if he could avoid it.

Sam watched carefully as emotions played across the other man’s face. First panic then confusion then something more resentful… Fear came back to settle in the illusion mutant’s belly and he held his breath in anticipation of what might come next.

“Who are you?”

The shout made him wince he had expected anger but he had to admit that it was not a pleasant thing to have directed at you. The other thing he did notice however was how much effort it took for the stranger to shout at him; which was all at once reassuring and worrying. Reassuring because if it hurt to shout then assault was out of the question and worrying because this guy really really should see a doctor.

“And how do you know what my mother looks like?”

The question was a valid one, although Sam was pretty sure that this guy had already forgotten all about the fact that he had been told that it was an illusion and that Sam was not in fact his mother. A mix of fear and anger at having had the blame for this thrust upon him warred within Sam, was it his fault this guy was dying in an alley. Or that his mother was dead for that matter? God he hated it when his power made him look like a dead person, it was horrible to deal with.

“Look I don’t know what your mother looks like. I have no control over who you see me as. It’s like a psychic thing the information comes from you…” He stopped to let the information sink in. “… besides I did try and tell you that I’m not your mother.”

He thought about adding “it’s not my fault that you don’t listen” but that probably would have got him clobbered. Besides all that he really wanted now was to either get this guy to a medical facility or even to just leave him there, whatever it was he wanted to get the hell out of this alley.

“Look you really need to get those wounds seen to.”

Shane let it all sink in, and it was certainly quite a bit on information to stomach. He never let the boy leave his peripheral vision, but his attention definitely drifted away from him as he let the words sink in. It seemed as though it was all just some kind of sick mutant joke, messing with his head, making him see his mother. Must be a good laugh for someone. He couldn’t see the punch line though, so he was still skeptical of the whole thing, but based on the kid’s demeanor, it was quite possible it wasn’t a joke (or at least that he wasn’t all that funny). Regardless of which it was, the threat level in the alleyway certainly seemed to have gone down. He was back in control of the situation again. At least there was a silver lining.

>> “Look you really need to get those wounds seen to.”

The notion of getting his wounds looked after seemed so obvious when it was coming from his mother’s lips, he was tentative with the stranger though. He did agree, it was a bloody mess and something needed to be done about it, but he wasn’t about to go letting some lying trickster anywhere near it.

“Nothing personal, but I have absolutely no interest in letting you touch my cut.”

He spoke with clear pain in his voice as he readjusted his position against the wall, switching into a more forward posture. It hurt a bit more, and he groaned as he moved, but he figured it was time he leaned in to the conversation. He was just starting to have control and he felt it was important for him to maintain that dominance.

The other man looked at him through narrowed eyes as if weighing up his options. Sam could feel the distrust oozing in his direction and started to feel the anger rise up in him again. He had not asked to fall over some creepy guy bleeding to death in an alley, why was this suddenly his fault? For a second the idea of just up and leaving seemed very appealing. He could still hear the road sounds a little way off and it was ever so tempting.

“Nothing personal, but I have absolutely no interest in letting you touch my cut.”

That abrupt statement brought Sam’s sense of what was right back to the forefront. What was right was to help this guy no matter how he managed to rub him the wrong way. Sam also felt surprised at his own anger; he was usually so patient… gods Noel had pretty much told him that he was a doormat. So why was this guy getting to him so much?

“Well I don’t know the first thing about wounds so I don’t want anything to do with it anyway.”

Well that was not entirely true; he did have first aid training. But he felt that getting involved with this would just give the other guy something else to blame him for and he was not having any of that. He would give him some options, he could take them or leave them and then Sam would go his own way knowing that he had done his duty as a nice human being.

“So you have two choices: sit here and bleed to death on your own or come with me and we can try and figure out somewhere we can take you to get you patched up.”

Where exactly was another matter, because the more Sam thought of trying to get to the mansion the more impossible the task seemed. They would either have to take a cab or the tube… that or he could call Celeste and they could go by limo. That last idea almost made him smile he could just imagine the look on his snobby little friends face if he tried to convince her to let this guy in her limo.

“I live a little way off the center of town… getting there will not be easy. Or we can try a doctor’s office around here but that’s pot luck, we could end up with more trouble instead of help.”

>> “So you have two choices: sit here and bleed to death on your own or come with me and we can try and figure out somewhere we can take you to get you patched up.”

Shane wanted to be mad at this statement. In his mind, it was pretty close to a threat, telling him he’d be bleeding out in this alley. Before he could lash out about it though, the stinging pain in his shoulder once again kicked in to high gear, dampening his jacket. He really did need some help.

He wasn’t jumping at the opportunity to get some aid though. He continued to remain skeptical of every word the boy said. Shane was certain there was a prank happening in this meeting, he just couldn’t tell what it was, and going along with what ever the boy said seemed like an easy way to fall in to some kind of trap. He started weighting the pros and cons of the situation in his head. On the one hand, he had the potential to be the victim of some kind of attack/prank, though the longer this whole ordeal went on the less likely it was becoming. On the other, he was in a lot of pain, and fixing that seemed like a plan worth pursuing.

“Fine…” he reluctantly mumbled, avoiding eye contact as best he could. “But no strange doctors.” He’d had a bad experience with the DocProf at that school almost a year ago, and now the idea of doctors was uncomfortable to him. He didn’t trust them, and since he felt he was already being asked enough to trust this stranger in front of him, letting someone else who was a mystery to them both was more then he was willing to step out of his comfort zone.

“Only someone you trust.” He said, very sternly, looking directly into the boy’s eyes. It was important that this point drove home.

Sam waited as his words sunk in and were considered. He was genuinely curious about what the other man would decide, would pride and suspicion win or would common sense? He had to wait only a short time to find out.

“Fine…But no strange doctors.”

Sam smile tightened into something a bit strangled. No, strange, doctors… the words formed slowly in his head and he serious thought about shaking the person he was trying to save. What the hell did this guy want from him? He did not trust him, he did not trust anyone. Sam was seriously wondering if anyone would be good enough to be allowed to touch this guy.

“Only someone you trust.”

Oh and how many doctors was Sam supposed to know well enough to trust? He had heard of the doctor from the mansion and only good things had been said, but he had not had any reason to meet the man in person. As for any other doctors Sam had only lived in this city five months, he knew next to no one. Taking a rattling breath he gathered his thoughts and tried to lay out some options for this difficult patient.

“Well that narrows things down quite a lot then. I live at a school a small way out of town, there is a doctor there. But getting there seems like a challenge.” He paused for breath once more knowing that he was seriously going to regret saying what came next. “Or I have a friend, she’s rich and could come get us… her family would surely have a doctor on call.”

There those were all the options he could offer. If they were not good enough then that would be the end of this.