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"Well I heard traveling makes people tired, and I've been stuck on a train for three days now," Locke explained to Henrietta, giving a big yawn. She hardly need worry that he was going to turn into a teen-sicle. Locke just hated anything under seventy degrees. "But I do think I could fall asleep right here if we don't keep moving." He had not meant to worry her about it. He was just tired, bone tired. This was the kind of exhaustion where if he stayed still for more then a minute he was likely to drop down asleep and dead to the world. After making a minor breakthrough with the scarf, Locke wasn't willing to looking like the complete fool again by possibly snoring or even worse, drooling. In the last five years he really had not spent a night away from home. If he had any sort of embarrassing sleeping habits, such as sleep walking or talking in his sleep, he would not know. Maybe he did something when he was a child, but that would have been years ago. Finding out if any of these were in effect with him was something he would rather not do in public, especially in front of an attrative girl his age.. One hand dared to face the cold and hitched his backpack up before retreating into the relative warmth of his pocket. What did he want to do? Shouldn't it be obvious? "I just want someplace to sleep, out of the wind if possible. My relatives are a bust, so I guess it's a shelter or a church, and I don't do church." Religion didn't sit well with Locke. There were too many things that just did not stack up and too many violently different stances for there to be a logical middle ground.

Locke was not going to let Henrietta side step the issue for much longer. Perhaps it was just because he had gotten so use to taking charge back home, but Locke did not like those around him holding out some vital piece of information. For the Californian the facts were highly important, falling right behind his twin half-siblings. There were some suspicions on what might have caused Henrietta's mother to send her away. From what the girl had said it sounded as if she had either done something wrong or there was something wrong with her. Besides the possibility of insanity, Henrietta seemed to be a perfectly normal teenager. Was she a mutant, and again the word made Locke smile, like he was? Locke was willing to bet a Whopper Meal on it, with a Taco Bell combo too. The facts were falling into line with it. She had neither admitted or denied that her hair had waved at him. He neither admitted or denied that he had done something with the dirt in the potted plant to Kendra, or that he could tell there was an earthquake coming. "Yeah? Consider yourself lucky. My step-mother,", he couldn't even call her step-mom, "My step-mother didn't even say a word to me after she caught me and the thing I made. Never knew that mutant was a cuss until we couldn't say it."

"San Francisco. I think I've got you beat on distance, and no, it isn't because I'm from Cali that I'm freezing. The City isn't as sunshine and surfing as people might think. Probably why so much of Full House was filmed inside," Locke switched the subject, trying to mimic the way that Henri had flowed from one topic to the other, and acting as if he hadn't said anything unusual. To add to the effect he even started walking, as if he expected Henrietta to take the lead again. He had to be right about Henri. If not what would happen? Would she scream and try to take him down? Call for help? Or would she be cool with it, or even worse, act like she wasn't effected at all.

My work schedule is odd this week to say the least (close one day, open next, midshift next, etc). I might be a bit delayed with my posts. This effects Ghost and Henrietta.

“Thank you,” Locke mumbled. It was probably the least unusual or ill-tempered thing that he had said that night, and he was sincere in it. Even if he did wear layers upon layers scarves had not really been a part of his wardrobe. It was nice though, given how the scarf had been warmed up a little from Henrietta wearing it. After wrapping it around his neck the Californian let his fingers linger on it. He wondered if it was machine or handmade. If it was the latter then that made it all the better. Locke had a lot of respect for people that could make things, which might be why he was friends with Eaan, who played guitar. About all Locke could do was doodles and some writing. He liked the stuff that he wrote, but he never tried showing anyone it. Maybe that was why he had fun when he had made that little person thing. With a short yawn Locke tucked the lower part of his face into the scarf, enjoying the extra little spot of warmth. ”Again, thank you.”

Henrietta was offering to help him find a teen shelter or a homeless shelter. She even offered to help him track down his aunt and uncle. He shook his head no. ”Like I said, I don’t really know who they are. I was seven and more interested in the presents and cake then relatives I never really saw before.” He brushed some more hair over his dead eye and gave a little chuckle-like noise. ”I’ll be an icicle by the time we find them.” Too bad he couldn’t stay out here in the park where there was plenty of useful dirt, even if there wasn’t a guarantee that he’d be able to do anything with it. Since Kendra had caught him, Locke had been unable to make another earth person, or at least one that did not fold in on itself almost instantly. You’d get the impression that it was a one time only deal.

He paused, brows knitting together and looked as if thinking intently. Something was tickling at the base of his brain. Usually this meant that he was forgetting about something, usually something important. He had his backpack, which meant that he had not left something behind, and Locke was pretty sure that he wasn’t being followed by the cops right then. Still there had to be something important he was missing, and something was telling him it had to do with the girl in front of him. He was sure that he’d seen her hair move, like weird move. Yeah there was wind, but doesn’t hair usually move in the same sort of direction? Was it weird that she had ignored his comment about it waving at him or was it the Kendra effect. The "Don't bring it up" Now was the time for Locke to slip into big brother mode, meaning time to find out what was going on and not let his shyness get in the way. Such moments usually did not last long. Either he'd find out what he wanted to know or he'd get bashful. ”You aren’t from around here either are you? Did you run away too?”

Of course being a runaway did not mean there was anything special or unusual about Henrietta. Kids had been running away from home way back before mutants were really known about. Everyone heard the tired claim about running away and joining the circus at one point or another in their life. Heck if Locke had a different personality he might have even declared that he was going to do that. Only now he had something that would get him a spot in the show, and it did not have to do with juggling or being shot out of a cannon. He thought, for a second only, about letting Henrietta know that he was a mutant, but what was the point in that? People did not like mutants, and as long as the ground beneath him would stop making soft little groans in greeting there was no cause for anyone to suspect he was a mutant. Yeah he'd followed a complete stranger with his eyes closed across a street in a busy city, but that could, and in the past had been brushed off as his other senses filling in for the damaged one.

New thread with Locke. It's in the Mansion's kitchen at an hour that nobody should be awake at. Join if you like, or you could be smart and sleep in.

theultimatexmen.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=kitchen&action=display&thread=5223&page=1

*Beep....beep....beep*

Locke went to hit his alarm clock's snooze button, which was the first odd thing. He had not used the snooze button, not religiously, for years. Mornings usually had a certain level of chaos, and an extra ten minutes of sleep only made things more complicated, no matter how wonderful those ten minutes might be. The Californian groaned at the repetitive beep. The sucky part of his alarm clock was that it was just the right pitch to break through any Beatles song that his laptop. Speaking of which shouldn't it be playing still? Did Kendra shut it down again while he was sleeping? It would not be the first time that had happened. At one point Locke tried to tell her not to, but that was easily one of the most uncomfortable conversations he had ever had with her, which is sad because it probably was the closest he would ever get to sharing his feelings on a topic with her. By Now the beeping had woken him up enough that he was aware his arm had not actually moved. Now that's weird Locke thought. He tried moving his other arm, and was able to do so without any problems. The right arm on the other hand felt too heavy, and slightly disconnected to actually do anything. A weight on his chest kept him from rolling over.

*Beep...beep...beep*

And that was not the normal sound his alarm made. For one thing it was less grating and more high pitched. More of a blip than a beep really. A steady beat too. Not too fast, but not too slow. Regular, consistent, predictable. The mind fog of sleep was closing in around Locke, and he began to doze again. The sheets felt cool and crisp around him, and although he had not opened his eyes, Locke knew the room was dark enough that he could sleep a little longer. Every so often he'd hear a soft ksch noise, like air blowing. It was too much of a struggle to wake up so Locke stopped fighting sleep and gave in.


Later on he started waking again. The beep, or blip noise was still going on, and still there was no Beatles. Something was pricking at his right arm, a small prick, not too painful, but his arm from shoulder to wrist not only felt heavy, but tense as well. Almost constricted. His eyes felt too tired to open, and he felt so thin that he did not bother to open them up. The room was as dark as it had been when he fell back asleep, but that had to have been hours ago. No sounds from Dad and Kendra's room. Shouldn't they be up by now?. Once again Locke tried to roll over and found his chest weighted down. Again, weird, because he could not feel anything actually pushing on him. Come to think of it he couldn't feel the texture of his quilt either. I need to wake up.[/color] he thought, and tried to kick the covers down, since clearly his right arm was bound up too tightly in something to throw his blankets off of him. More weirdness. His leg was too heavy to lift.

Something was definitely wrong here. As he drew closer and closer to consciousness Locke became more aware of the failings of his own body. Something was pinching his pointer finger and if he moved it, another something hit the back of his hand. He could not breath as deeply. There was pressure on his eyelids. The blankest had not warmed up at all. Every thing about him was not wanting to work the way that it should. The only noises were the air thing and that blip, which was picking up speed. "Dehh.. Daa.." he struggled to get his tongue and mouth to form one word he said on a daily basis, to call for the one person that was there all his life. It was a simple word, something even a baby could say, and yet he could not get it out of his mouth.

"Paging Dr. Mayers, Dr. Mayers to room 213."

Wake up Locke, wake up! You're in the hospital again. Wake up, he commanded himself. His free arm, the one that he could move easier went up to his face, feeling bandages that were there, but not the texture. Frantically he started tearing at them.


And Locke opened his eyes, bolting upright into a sitting position in a bed he did not remember, gasping for air. Your Mother Should Know played softly on his laptop and a pale blue glow illuminated the room. His hands were at his face, still trying to pull of bandages that had not been there. Locke made a noise of frustration before letting them slide up and through his tangled hair. To his left was the usual darkness, something he had gotten too familiar with. His right eye just caught the curve of his nose and a bit of the cheek. A map of the United States cycled through a light show, pinpricks of color illuminating small portions of the map, rippling out and transitioning into a new central location. A screensaver of recorded earthquakes, showing the epicenter and how far the shockwaves traveled. Locke turned to watch the only familiar thing in the room, his backpack hidden someplace by shadows. That girl, Henrietta had brought him here. He shivered, realizing that he had sweated through his shirt. The room was mostly dark, no light coming from the window. A quick tap on the laptop's mousepad showed that the time was now three in the morning, Eastern Standard Time. It would be midnight back home, and he'd up anyways.

The bed had been warm, much more then he could have asked considering a few hours ago he was thinking of following a homeless guy to a shelter, and he half hated to leave it. That had been too close a call, and the darkness at night had almost caught him, hardly better here in New York than in California. Was that a nightmare he had just had, or a really vivid memory? Back then he had been too jacked up on pain medication to remember anything other then the world demolishing news. He was at least half-blind, there was a chance of becoming totally blind, and the worst of all, Hugo Tori had "not made it". Why did he have to remember these little details years later, like the doctor being paged to a different room. "The first night is always the toughest," he reassured himself. Science had never been his strong point, and if an experiment seemed full-proof, somehow, some way Locke would find a way to screw it up. This one, this experiment he was not going to let fail.

There was nothing much that he could do now that he was awake, except maybe walk a bit until he got tired again, or at least his heart went back to a normal pace. Locke grabbed his jacket and zipped it up, both hiding evidence of his night terror and preserving some body heat. In the dark and in a new environment Locke was unsure of where he was going, and relied heavily upon what the earth was telling him was nearby, earth in this case being the floor. Perhaps it was just dumb luck but the Californian found himself in the kitchen. After some fumbling he found a light switch and hobbled to the sink. Locke turned the water on, cupped his hands, and splashed his face.

The girl came to a halt in front of Locke, and did so so suddenly that his head snapped up to see what was wrong. Of course the pessimist, (or realist as he would argue), would think that something had gone foul if his guide stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. All Locke really could do was gawp at Henrietta. Somebody who had been walking behind them snickered at the exchange, causing Locke's ears to turn another shade of pink in addition to the hue change from the cold. He might be utterly clueless when it came to the mind of the other gender, but in five years he'd gotten pretty good at telling when people were trying to give him space. At times it seemed like that was all that anyone wanted to do, not that he did anything to discourage it. Privacy was important to the teen, maybe more so than for others his age. Once again the first thing to tumble out of his mouth was a nonsensical noise. Alright so maybe he had forgotten how to talk to people on his trip, but for a brief period of time he still had linguistic skills.

What he wanted to say was that she had not offended him. If anyone would have been offended it would have been Henrietta. It was not entirely her fault that she ended up playing guide to a slightly anti-social mutant teen with a physical handicap, and the inability to string together two sentences without making himself look like the next Bottom. Henrietta could have done the logical thing and stepped away from the walking dustpan that was Locke, but instead she went against society and human nature and decided to help him. Instead Locke struggled as his throat locked up before blurting out, "I only said that because you looked freaked!"

The Californian groaned and rubbed his eyes. New York City's lights burned a little to brightly for him and he was getting a headache. Not exactly the best thing to have when you are tired, getting cranky, and freezing your buns off because Mother Nature likes to leave her fridge's door open for three months of the year. A homeless shelter was sounding like a better idea with every passing minute. How to find one still eluded Locke. Should he just pick a random hobo and follow them, or go to churches? Of course the answer to these sort of questions does not come from a formal education, because nobody wants to tell you what to do if you find yourself out on the street. Asking Henrietta was an option, especially after she asked him what he wanted her to do. Show me a bed, and maybe a hot meal he wanted to say, but pride would not let him say that. Not yet. "Sorry. I'm an idiot. I think it runs in my family."