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It was still an odd transition for Becca to hear herself called “Miss Grey” or “Miss G,” when she herself was only a few years removed from calling her own instructors by last name. Her student directed her to a chair set up in front of the webcam and assured her he would keep her best interests at heart when picking questions. ”Ah'll hauld ye tae 'at. Ah dae control yer grade, efter aw.” She paused, processing how inappropriate her joke was, adding, ”Kiddin', obvioosly.”

Apparently, leading these AMAs was usually Jiri’s territory, but today Leo was taking the reins, and if she was honest, the boy seemed a little nervous. Rebecca was not the only one stepping out of her comfort zone. ”Ah hink yoo'll dae jist fine, Leo.” She took a deep breath, shook her head at the invitation to ask any final questions and the probe for specific questions she was looking to answer. ”Whatever fowk pure want tae know. Ah’m an open book.” Mostly.

Slipping mentally into her internet persona, there was not much to differentiate between Rebecca and Pixelbecky. She did make an effort to bring a higher level of energy, allow her face to be more expressive, and switch into a slightly higher speaking voice. Almost instinctively, the higher energy led to her speaking with her hands, as an outlet for more visual expressiveness. The last thing Pixelbecky wanted to be on camera was boring.

Smiling through most of Leo’s introduction, her nose did scrunch at his comment about her “Vlog.” People sae call it ‘at, she thought, keeping it in her head. They had plenty of questions to go through, so there was no reason to spend too much time verbally sparring with her host. She also wanted to help Leo ease into his hosting duties so he could find his groove, which was not helped by him almost knocking over the webcam. Becca wanted to help, but using her powers on the camera could cause interference with the video, so she refrained.

The first question was one she was ready for when she signed up for the AMA. She was a public figure, and her love life was a topic of interest, especially to a subset of her more avid admirers. ”Weel, Butts—an' charmin' nam, by th' way—Ah am indeed single. Ah micht hae mah eye oan someain, but fur noo, Ah’m a definitife bachelorette.” Pixelbecky had a habit of rambling and saying too much at times, which her fans often noted as selling points rather than flaws, but it did mean she sometimes laid out too much of her personal life online. With recent events, Rebecca was no less single, but her complicated love life was a dangerous topic to bring up right now with things being so up in the air with Nessa and Agnes.

It was actually refreshing to move to a less personal topic that, as a public mutant, Rebecca was always expecting to be on the table at some point. ”Perfect, Ah actually prepared fur thes,” she answered enthusiastically, grabbing a small pouch from her purse filled with small metal marbles she used to use in the field.

The marbles slipped out of the pouch, floating in front of her, gathering together to form a collective ball at the tip of her outstretched finger. ”Ah brin' it up sometimes oan mah channel, but Ah can manipulate magnetic fields. Magnetokinesis, Ah’m pretty sure it's called.” As she spoke, the marbles left their collective one by one, falling into orbit around her. They were small and easy to manage, so she could control their movement without exerting herself, so she seemed nonchalant on camera as the tiny metal orbs hovered around her. ”Bit oan th' beak, but it's pure useful.” Useful, and showy, she thought as the orbits of the marbles shifted so some were circling her at different angles. Ironically not the type to see the whole world revolve around her, Pixelbecky had, nonetheless, made herself a planet with two dozen moons.

Leaving her marbles hovering, Rebecca moved onto her next question, though the verbiage earned a furrow of her brow. ”First ay aw, Ah’m nae th' biggest fan ay 'at wuid, sae Eh'd loove if we coods... nae, kay?” It was not Leo’s fault of course; the internet was the internet, and he was just the voice box.

”It is a skale fur mutants, an', beyond special circumstances fur a few remarkable exceptions,” she added, grinning at the young man behind the camera, ”th' student body is exclusively mutant.”

Becca reflected on her relatively short time at the mansion as an instructor. ”Ah’m still new tae teachin', but Ah loove bein' haur. Ah developed mah powers late, but Ah knaw th' struggle ay figurin' it yer developmental years when yoo're different. It's braw tae be haur fur mah students who ur piecing together who they ur. We're honestly a lot loch onie other skale, tryin' tae gie kids a place tae learn abit lit, math, an' themselves.”

There was a small pause before Pixelbecky broke into a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. ”Waw, 'at was corny. Sorry.”

”Just because there is no class today is no excuse to stay in bed forever, you lazy lump.”

The words broke through the wall Rebecca’s dreams placed between her and reality, and consciousness started taking hold. She rolled over in her bed, her eyes still closed, but her arm found an empty space. Finally allowing her eyes to flutter open so she could get a handle on the situation she was in, she propped herself up, her elbows sinking into the soft mattress.

Looking around the room as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the space, she noticed Nessa shimmying herself back into her jeans. This was not the first time she got to watch that bottom squeeze its way into denim in the morning. Nessa had come to her place a week earlier to take her mind off the truth that she and Agnes were done. Nessa was great for keeping Rebecca from overthinking with nights of pizza and Chinese food, alcohol, video games, and… other activities that involved less clothing.

Nessa had been over every night since the concert, and she had to keep reminding Rebecca that she was doing nothing wrong. Rebecca had been single for years, and she had to stop thinking that moving on meant cheating on Agnes. The accidental kiss was a mistake on both of their parts, but it was their last mistake.

It was not easy trying to cut herself off from Agnes, because it went against her basic instincts. Nessa actually helped for the first two nights by keeping Rebecca’s phone out of her hands, (and keeping her hands otherwise occupied.) By the third and fourth days, Rebecca was able to take her phone back and only look over her contact list a few times each day.

The more she understood she was single and free to pursue whatever interested her, she had to start contemplating what she was doing with Nessa. She was fun, hot, and incredibly easy-going. They spent an obsessive amount of time together and Rebecca was not getting tired of her, but was there a future there? Rebecca was not the type of girl who entered into “casual relationships,” yet it was feeling more like Nessa was her friends with benefits. If Nessa wanted something more from her, she was not giving anything away, evidently content with their situation.

”Wa nae?” she asked in a whiny voice, sitting up with the bedsheet wrapped around her bare body. ”We can spend th' whole day in bed; that's whit Saturdays ur fur.”

Nessa approached the bed, still bare from the waist up, allowing herself to reenter touching range. Rebecca promptly took advantage, hooking her fingers into the belt loops of Nessa’s jeans and pulling her in. ”Come back tae yer sexy lump.”

The cheeky comment earned a chuckle, but Nessa shook her head as her fingers ran through Rebecca’s hair, smoothing out the mess left behind by a night of sleep. ”So you’re my lump now?”

Rebecca pouted and batted her eyelashes. ”Ah’m mah ain lump. But yoo're th' one Ah loch tae shaur wi'.”

Trying to win the argument and keep Nessa from walking out, Rebecca started leaving kisses across Nessa’s shoulder, collarbone, and chest. The brunette stifled a moan or two before laughing to keep the redhead from taking control of the situation. ”You are super tempting, hun… but I have to get to a meeting with my production network.”

It was a good argument, and one Nessa knew Rebecca, as a fellow content creator, had to begrudgingly respect. Accepting a small kiss on the lips from the winner of the dispute, Rebecca meekly whimpered an, ”Okaaaay,” and watched as Nessa gathered her shirt from the ceiling fan. The gamer girl gave one last goodbye kiss, confirmed their plans for a movie that night, and departed for her meeting.

Rebecca held true to her word, only extending her body just far enough off the bed to grab the laptop on a nearby nightstand. The clock on the screen confirmed it was indeed afternoon. She could be a responsible adult and use the remains of the day to run errands, but before thinking of anything responsible, she wanted to laugh at silly internet videos for an hour or two. Right now, that was all she wanted out of life: Uncomplicated.

Hey, Listen!

Assuming Nessa forgot something, Rebecca grabbed the phone from under her pillow and checked the new message icon from her lock screen.



Rebecca might have laughed if her heart had not stopped at the sight of Agnes’s name in her phone. She already decided two nights earlier that if she received a text like this, the best choice would be to politely refuse the conversation and remind Agnes that their decision was for the best. She was so committed to the idea, and told Nessa she could be her support system if she could not bring herself to hit send.

It was the hypothetical moment people concocted in their heads where an ex-lover reached back out to rebuild a burnt bridge, and like every concoctor before her, Rebecca was convinced she had the conviction to be the “stronger” one.

Except Nessa had left, and it was hard to think about her when Agnes was peeking through the keyhole, asking to be let in.



She sent the first message, staring at her phone, thinking of what else she could say. Mutation based, pun based humor, go!



The second message went through, but she doubted it hit Agnes’s phone before Rebecca was regretting making a remark like that, especially given their recent history.



Rebecca set aside her laptop and fell back so she could rest her head on a pillow while smothering her face in the other, (not failing to notice the lingering scent of Nessa’s wildberry shampoo.) ”Whit ur ye daein’, Becca?” she asked herself, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Rebecca knew the big red button she was handing over in her texts. The most destructive forces of man all rested at the end a big red button, and this one could destroy a connection she had always had for years; even when the two drifted apart, Agnes was not cut from her life. As much as a logical part of Rebecca’s mind knew they would be better off learning to live apart, her heart dreaded the idea that she may have exchanged her last words with Agnes. In some ways, it always felt like her life began when she found that girl in the garden. Now, the reality of that chapter in her life closing was growing more tangible with each passing second waiting for—

Hey, Listen!



She knew it was coming, but Rebecca still found herself choking, as if all the air had been sucked from her apartment. Was one letter and one mark of punctuation mark enough to end everything they once had and everything she thought they might have left? Maybe she was expecting too much; their relationship was over and had been over for years. Before her return to New York, they were already living lives without one another, and while Rebecca’s stalled, Agnes’s flourished. If the violinist was wise, she might have realized she was nothing more than a Scottish omen of misfortune. She probably felt her thumb pricking at Gotham’s Lost Lady that night before Rebecca approached her.

It was over. They gave up. Years ago, Rebecca thought there was no force in the world that would make them give up; even when they broke up, she assumed Agnes would be around. Now, she knew better. They were toxic to one another; Rebecca stopped progressing without Agnes, and Agnes let Rebecca drag her backward. Maybe knowing, once and for all, that the door to her past was closed was the only way she could let herself move forward.

Rebecca closed out of the message, choosing instead to reply to Nessa.







Rebecca got to her feet and dug through her closet, looking for something presentable to wear. It was unfair for her to be pulling another person into her night, but Nessa was the perfect candidate. Her relationship with Nessa was casual but fun, and she knew not to expect much from her. Serena was a great friend—too good a friend to not ask her to talk about what happened, and she was not ready for that yet. Juliette was nice, but frankly, had a boyfriend, and Rebecca wanted to flirt and charm and kiss someone who was as free and untethered as she was.

There was no string left connecting Rebecca to Agnes. She had been cut free, and it was time to let go of everything she was hanging on to since she left for England.

Rebecca was true to her word, scanning the area for anyone suspicious, but at this party, that definition was skewed. She could see stuffy rich people in suits, mostly white, mostly men, and of the women in the building, most fit the mold used to cast their table-mate Lena. Beyond the guest list, there were servers trying to keep a smile while serving a room of pretentious millionaires, and security patrolling their areas, stone-faced. The politicians seemed to be enjoying themselves, the wives seemed to be meek and neutral, and the servers were playing polite; anything outside of those would be “suspicious.”

That meant Rebecca was the only “suspicious” one in sight, with a clear look of frustration across her face. It was also likely she was the only one there, (beside maybe Juliette,) who might be a risk to attack Alan Adamson that night. The magnetic mutant could “see” the magnetic fields around her through an innate “sixth sense,” (which was ridiculous since most scientists agreed humans already had somewhere between nine and twenty-one senses,) and the only firearms she detected in the room were held by security and herself.

Some younger male politicians approached Rebecca while she was in the mingling area, but they all had personalities that seemed reminiscent of her “date” for the evening. Rebecca did her best to dodge them by providing a vague answer that she “could not chat” and “she was looking for someone,” which was partially true.

Rebecca found a young woman in a server’s vest holding a tray of sparkling wine. ”Aw, jist fa Ah was lookin' fur. Min' if Ah hae a glass, hen?”

The mousy brunette was caught off guard by the informality of the request, but managed to squeak out a, “Um, yes, of course, miss!” as Rebecca grabbed a glass from the tray and took an immediate sip.

The bubbles tickled on her tongue, but the wine was exactly what she was looking for. ”Mmm, sweit,” she purred, jist th' way Ah loch it. Thes mauna be th' lest time Ah come lookin' fur ye, sugar,” she added with a friendly smile before turning back to her table, leaving behind a blushing server girl.

The table was more full than when Rebecca departed, though no one interesting or of note was in attendance. Alan was chatting with one of the new guests, and Juliette had followed Rebecca’s lead and switched to something harder than water. ”Glad tae see yoo’re still haur, luv.” Watching the hand that held the wine glass, Rebecca could have sworn there was some redness tinting the darker complexion of her friend.

She glared at Alan suspiciously, but he had turned his attention to her when he heard her call out to Juliette in a warm, affectionate tone. Perturbed, he asked, “Did you have fun stretching out those lovely legs of yours?”

Apparently being insulting, antagonistic, and gay was not enough to keep Adamson from making an inappropriate pass at her. ”Loads. Ah didne miss anythin’ fin haur, did Ah?” she asked, taking her seat once more and sipping at the bubbly glass of rosy wine.

Rebecca considered turning the television back on, but it would only serve as background noise, since her phone was the one thing keeping her awake. If the next message took two hours to arrive like the last one, she had to commit to letting herself retreat into bed. There was figuratively losing sleep over someone, and there was literally letting someone keep her from sleep, and Agnes should no longer be allowed the power to keep her up until dawn waiting.

Hey, Listen!

The phone fumbled in her hand when the obnoxiously high pitched voice greeted her, but much to Rebecca’s surprise, the message came from a different name.



Since their first date, Rebecca had kept continuous conversation going with Nessa. It was nothing serious, but she understood why it would be easier for everyone to take things slow and ease the baggage-laden Rebecca into the dating world. Nessa was sweet, even when she was being sarcastic, or when she was coming up with freckle and red hair themed nicknames. It was surprising seeing a message come through so late since their occasional dates gravitated around coffee and dinner. Was it a bold attempt from the gamer girl to initiate something more intimate?

Rebecca was still staring at the message, debating how to handle it, when three new Hey, Listen! alerts came through in quick succession.



The messages were the missing piece of the puzzle Rebecca had been blind to that night, and with the completed picture of the evening now available, she felt her heart sink. She did not imagine River’s troubled look, because she inadvertently confessed that Agnes had visited her apartment. The act might have been acceptable enough without the lies of admission attached. River never knew Agnes was visiting, which could only have been intentional. Worse, she found out Agnes was not visiting a friend behind her back, she as visiting an ex. All the elements came together to create plenty of doubt and suspicion.

How should Rebecca even respond to that? She remembered how Agnes made it sound like the redhead had been putting them in an unethical, dangerous position. Realizing how unfair the accusation was, she got heated for a moment, aided by the undercurrent of alcohol still swirling through her blood.



She hit [SEND] before she could process what she was writing. A second, even more pointed message was being written out before Rebecca finally took a moment to look over what she was saying. The Scot never had to be in the position to explain an ex to a girlfriend, let alone a fiancée she was planning on sharing her life with. River had been struggling and it was affecting their relationship, so maybe a wrench like Rebecca was the last thing she needed to throw into her life.



She wanted to send that message quickly before Agnes might have the chance to turn off her phone, feeling like the one person she could talk to was giving up on her.



It was hard not to see herself as some harbinger of heartbreak when her appearance for Agnes consistently preceded relationship trouble. Maybe it was selfish for her to look for a friendship with her ex-girlfriend if it was going to cause her this much turmoil with River, the woman who did not leave her at an airport to pursue something new.





Sending off several heavy messages at once was emotionally taxing. Rebecca was struggling to avoid the reality that her last text seriously proposed ending a friendship with one of the people she cared most about in the world. Rebecca had to learn to stop being selfish, and that might have to include accepting she was no longer something good for Agnes.

Looking to distract herself from the gravity of her conversation with Agnes, Rebecca switched over to her conversation with Nessa, looking at the open invitation she was offered. She could accept and spend her night in the company of a beautiful young woman who carried no complications or drama in her wake. Both Vloggers knew what was holding Rebecca back, and now Rebecca could make a very real decision to choose the present over the past.

Her finger hovered over the keyboard, contemplating how to respond.

Rebecca kept her focus on the television, allowing the fast-talking characters to keep her mind occupied while it tried to make up possible reasons why Agnes’s night turned sour. She was ready to be there for her friend, but something felt wrong. Either she was taking the role of confidante from River, or she was the person Agnes went to when there was trouble with River; both positions were dangerous places for Rebecca to be.

Or perhaps River was there for her, too, and Agnes just wanted as much support as she could get for the night. It was a bad habit to make assumptions and assume the worst-case scenario. How many issues on a television drama arose because of assumptions or lack of communication? Agnes was going to communicate with her, and until then, Rebecca would keep an open mind.

Over an hour passed, and Rebecca started wondering why her phone was so quiet? Once more, assumptions came easily: maybe Agnes thought better than to involve Rebecca in whatever problems she was facing for the night. River might have become available to give Agnes a shoulder to cry on, putting off the need to reply. On the flip-side, maybe River did come back around, and they got into a heated—

Or Agnes got tired and went to sleep. Rebecca scolded herself for getting in her own head once more. It was getting late, and even the Scot was starting to yawn involuntarily, (an act Domino mimicked.) After sending the text, Agnes must have realized that a good night’s rest would be healthier than staying up to exchange messages with her ex. Rebecca considered heading to bed herself, but decided she would watch one more episode, even if it was clearly to give Agnes time in case she decided to reply.

True to her word, as an hour passed and another episode ended, Rebecca was un-sushi rolling herself from the blanket and standing from the couch, feeling her legs stretch for the first time in hours. Another powerful yawn came over her as she held her arms over her head to extend her body and release some tension from her tired, unused muscles. She was grabbing the empty glass from the table and walking it over to the sink when she was caught off guard by a Hey, Listen!

Glad she held out just long enough, Rebecca skipped back over to the couch and grabbed her phone; after all, if Agnes was reaching out after such a long pause, she might need a friend after all. Truthfully, curiosity was begging her to find out what about Agnes’s night could have been “better.”



Rebecca eyed the text suspiciously. The first word, “you,” felt out of place. Was she what could be “better” about the night? Did she do something wrong, or was Agnes implying that more of her could have made the night better? It felt like a silly thought when Agnes and River seemed to have plenty of one another to occupy the night; asking if the couple wanted to grab a bite to eat or a coffee sounded like a questionable, unnecessary idea.

The capitalization also caught Rebecca’s eye. She was tech-savvy enough to know a modern phone would automatically capitalize the first word in a text message, yet the “you” was still lower-case. Was there more to it originally?

Frustrated, Rebecca lightly smacked her forehead with the back of her phone. She was being the girl she adamantly refused wanting to become. She was overanalyzing the capitalization of a letter in a text message. She always thought it was a silly moment in her favorite musical when a character dissected a letter and finds possible hidden meaning in the placement of a comma, yet now she was the embodiment of this paranoia in real life.

Though Agnes’s response to her question was dodgy. Why would she mention how her night could be better without saying why? And even more curious, where did the question about River come from?

Rebecca eyed the text for a few moments before slowly composing an answer that was as truthful and unbiased as she could manage.



Thinking back to the moments just before the lights of the show dimmed, Rebecca remembered a moment in hindsight that, at the time, she did not fully register. It could have been worth mentioning, if only to discover if there was more to what happened than she would be privy to understanding.



She paused again. It was probably an accident and probably not worth mentioning…



Rebecca hit the [SEND] icon and sighed, laying across the loveseat while she awaited a response. Even with the message sent, questions were still crossing her mind, and one made it to her fingers in the form of a follow-up text.



Sending off the second message and holding the phone against her stomach, she could at least be proud she was polite enough not to ask if River was “always all over you like that,” feeling the verbiage might come across as antagonistic.

Rebecca had plenty of experience putting herself out there on the web, but most of what she did was on her own terms. Her channel was planned and edited by her, any streams she took part in, she had moderator access, and any voice acting she did was scripted. Volunteering to take part in an “Ask Me Anything” was not something new for her, but it always carried an element of uncertainty. The questions came from anywhere, and she was not the one picking what comes through the filter.

No, that honor went to Leo, one of the students from her English class, who evidently was at least partially responsible for running a popular forum on the internet. Still relatively new to teaching, Rebecca was making it a point to keep her job as Pixelbecky and her job as an English teacher separate, but there was no hiding her presence online. Over a couple of years, she amassed a library of hundreds of videos online, and she was not about to take those down, so it was inevitable that a student would end up recognizing her.

She was not expecting one of her students to extend a proposal to host an AMA, but Leo was a good kid. Bit of a space cadet at times, but he tried hard in class, and he was good to his fellow classmates, even in a class where he was the lone human among the mutant children. Evidently, he thought that as an X-Man and a public mutant figure, there would be plenty of interest from the members on the forums. It was a smart move for her, with the potential to garner new viewers if she had any luck. She was only one woman, so it was inevitable that she would have to consolidate the multiple lives she was leading eventually.

They chose to meet in the library at the Mansion. Given the student-teacher relationship, it would have been inappropriate to do anything in one of their living spaces, and Rebecca was already at the Mansion during the day for classes, so the library was good neutral ground, even if the space would always remind her of a happy, embarrassing old memory.

Rebecca was still dressed in the outfit she picked out that morning; a sleeveless white dress with a belt cinched around the waist along with a loose-fitting forest green cardigan. The look was more teacher than internet celebrity, but she did have to consider her day job.

Finally off the clock, she found her way into the familiar setting of the library, looking around until she spotted a young man with a computer and a webcam prepared for her. ”Efternuin, Leo! Excited fur yer opportunity tae unleash th' denizens ay th' internit oan yer puir, defenseless English teacher?” she joked, glad she was not a hard*** of an instructor, given the shift in power for the afternoon.