Recent Posts

Allison was not particularly frantic right now. That was partly because she was exhausted, and partly because it had been two weeks (or something; she hadn't really kept the best track of time recently) and there was only so long that constant panic could last.

The panic was still there, of course. Even if Allison hadn't eventually sorted Alex separate from how she'd become pregnant in her head and started to love them, waking up to find her baby missing after falling asleep for no apparent reason without noticing was not a situation anyone would react well too. So the panic was still there, and the guilt and anger; they were just dulled and pressed down beneath the exhaustion.

They were, though, still more than enough to make her move, even though doing so felt perpetually exhausting now. She spent the subway ride staring out the window, and the walk staring at the ground, and then a few minutes staring at the gates before realizing she'd already gotten to the Mansion and needed to go in.

Someone--probably a student, but who knew with mutants; aging seemed to be affected pretty frequently--gave Allison directions to the office Cafas had told her to visit. She still had to stop and stare around at a few corners, but that was because she was having trouble remembering the directions. Finding the door (probably) was a relief, even if it took effort to knock and push the door open. "Hello? I'm Allison, Cafas told me to come here, I think?"

Apparently X men--or X part-time men--could fight. Which was not surprising, really; that was the point of the baby after all. Which hadn't worked at all, and Angela was not remotely happy with the fact.

Angela, on the other hand, couldn't fight. Which didn't mean she stopped squirming; at least, not until she was somehow on an actual, real floor, which the X-not-man was trying to break her face on. Then she resorted to kicking, which was equally ineffectual since she couldn't actually reach the father girl holding her down. Maybe if her skirt got tossed up enough it would distract her?

In the meantime, Angela was also quite pissed, and not very inclined to be helpful. Threats weren't very impressive; after all, what would an X man do? Angela had already been caught, and the girl from the goody two shoes organization was hardly going to dare hurt her. "From its mother, obviously. Shouldn't you be keeping slightly better track of your family?"

...Some preventive measures might be a good idea, though. In case this was actually a fake X man, and not a real one. "And she's perfectly fine, I only had her put to sleep for a few hours."

Angela wrinkled her nose. "I should hope not, I'd rather not think how that would work. No, you're its father, obviously. A bit easier to lose track of them that way, isn't it?" She shifted a foot to give her better balance, and kept the gun pointed at the reflection.

"Now, you really should leave. You care that much about money, really? It's not even yours. I promise, if you go now and don't cause me any more trouble, I'll return the kid perfectly safe soon." Angela smiled. "I do keep my word." About leaving protection of the baby up to the reflection, too, if the reflection caught that implication.

Angela Guthrie did not look like a criminal. Which, logically enough, was part of what made her a good one. It was difficult to get away with things when everyone was already watching you suspiciously. So being small, curvy, and with a tendency to smile and giggle a lot was quite helpful.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason for Angela's success. She'd never quite put her ultimate advantage in terms of mutation, or of instinctive foresight; she simply had very good intuition. Angela didn't know what would happen, but when she thought about doing something, she tended to get feelings. Inclinations, ideas. Like when she thought about robbing a certain bank a few weeks ago, she'd had the idea to make sure she dressed and did her hair and makeup in her best overwhelmed new mother impression. Which, of course, required a baby, and fortunately she had the idea to look up a certain (ridiculous) name. And the parents' names, and to call an old friend of hers that happened to mention a friend of theirs with a mutation that was very good at quietly putting people to sleep.

So now Angela was in a bank, baby set down on a counter (in a basket, she wasn't that apathetic to it, and anyway it would probably be useful later), gun removed from the bag which was not nearly as devoted to baby-related supplies as it looked, and everyone that wasn't currently handing Angela money was laying down. That had taken a bit, since the baby (Alex, she should probably actually name the baby in her head, and at least that part of the name wasn't ridiculous) had started crying, and she'd had to calm him down while ordering everyone to get down. Not a very intimidating combination. But it had worked, and everything was going smoothly. Angela didn't trust that, though; there wasn't anything so far that had given her any clue why she'd needed a baby.

Giving birth was hard. Not that Allison had thought it would be easy; she didn't think there was a human in the world that believed that, with the possible exception of a few particularly obtuse male politicians. Still, expected or not, ow. And whatever the exhausted equivalent of ow was.

Despite the exhaustion, though, Allison had just enough energy left to be annoyed. Not really that her kid wasn't (at the moment) with her; the birth had been a few weeks early, and the nurses had explained that they were just doing routine tests on Allison's son to make sure nothing was wrong and then he'd be right back with her. That made sense, that was fine, even if Allison wasn't entirely sure what she thought of having a son.

The annoying part was the nurses. They just would not shut up. And they weren't saying anything, anymore; just chattering and chattering away, in what was probably intended to be a distracting, cheerful manner, but was only succeeding in grating on Allison's nerves. Which, typically being insulated by patience and patience requiring energy, were rather susceptible to being grated. Allison's neutral expression (because a smile was just not an option any more) was feeling extremely strained.

And the nurses weren't saying anything. That was the worst part. If there had been a point to what they were saying, Allison could have tolerated it much more easily, but--

"Now, if you'd just tell us the father's name so we can finish filling out the birth certificate, there's a good girl...."

...Okay, if there had been a point other than that. Allison wasn't sure if it was a nurse thing or just these two in particular, but they absolutely refused to let it go. Allison had already told them she wouldn't be telling them any father's name twice, and they'd persisted. This time she settled for closing her eyes and ignoring them.

It took a few more minutes of withstanding the chatter before the doctor returned, and Allison decided that she did in fact have enough energy to sit up. She then decided this was utterly terrifying.

It wasn’t that she didn’t already halfway adore him; she did. Knowing all the chemicals and processes and evolutionary benefits behind the response didn’t really keep it from happening, especially when Allison had no intention of preventing it. But that was the problem, really; how was she supposed to… do everything? Protect him, and teach him, and… well, those were probably the big things since the food and shelter type of basics were covered, but there were probably other things she hadn’t thought of yet. And what about Aura? She certainly wasn’t going to keep the two apart, but what if something happened to Aura? If she died, or was arrested, or even just had to leave for months for a mission, Allison could understand that. Not be happy, but understand. A baby couldn’t. She couldn’t do that to her baby, but she couldn’t keep them apart, and--

“What’s his name?”

...Perhaps Allison could forgive the nurse for chattering this time, since it interrupted her train of thought and put her onto a far more pleasant one. She still didn’t bother to respond beyond letting her expression drift into something thoughtful while she considered. “Alex.”

“And his middle name?”

Good. Whether Allison’s deliberate interpretation had been what she meant or not, the nurse was going with it. The middle name took a few more minutes’ consideration, partly because Alex moved his hand and Allison found herself staring in fascination. That part of her fascination was with her baby and part was wondering how his mind worked and what he thought he was doing probably indicated something, but she didn’t particularly care. “Narcissus.”

“And his last name?”

That did not require a thought. Instead it required a frown edging into a glare at the woman. “Mine.”

“That’s an odd last--”

“No, his last name is my last name. Because he is my son.” The degree of force behind that statement probably wasn’t necessary, strictly speaking, but Allison didn’t feel like holding it back. She was already holding back enough irritated indications already.

“Okay, then if you can just tell me the father’s name for--”

Allison didn’t bother holding back, and growled at the nurse. It wasn’t nearly the growl that plenty of Sanctuary’s residents were able to make, but it was enough to make the nurse cut herself off midsentence. And to make Alex cry. Allison glared, snapped a sarcastic “Megan!” in the nurse’s direction, then focused on Alex and tried to figure out how to calm him down.

"Yeah." To both questions, probably, if Cafas hadn't gotten around to mentioning it. Not that Allison blamed him, really; she was perfectly aware of how the books and movie were viewed. For that matter, she didn't have a high opinion of them either, but several million dollars was sufficient motivation to ignore that. "It's--"

"...What?" That probably wasn't actually audible. Or intelligible, since Allison's voice had kind of broken halfway through it. It took a second to remember to close her mouth, try to get her eyes back to a normal size, and then try speaking again. "You can tell?"

Not that it should be impossible. Allison was a lot heavier than she used to be. But that still put her barely above average, if at all. Did this guy sense peoples' physical conditions, or their thoughts, or...? But hadn't they just said mutations didn't work around the woman? "How can you tell?"

...And they arrived at entirely the wrong conclusion. Like everyone else. "Cafas isn't...."

...You know what, actually? Cafas could defend himself from his friend's conclusions. Let him figure out how to explain that no one was the father without saying rape for once. Or say it and let them pity the poor little girl while Allison wasn't around. Whatever. Allison was sick of explaining it.