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Chapter 3

It seemed like only a few minutes later that Lisa was awakened again. The sun was coming in her window full force, like it was aiming for her, and something was making a dreadful racket. She slapped blearily at her alarm clock. The noise stopped, then started again; it was the phone. Stumbling out of bed, she grabbed at the phone and mumbled a sleepy "'lo" into the receiver.

"Are you trying to scare me to death, Young Lady. You like near sent me to an early grave."

"Morning, Mom," Lisa answered, trying to force some of the sleepiness from her voice.

"Where were you last night?" her mother responded. "I called and I called. Where was your decency to call me back? I raised you better than that."

Lisa took a deep breath. "I was out studying, Mom. I told you I'd probably be out late. The semester's almost over, remember?"

"Twenty-six hours, Lisa Christine--"

"Mom--"

"--I spent twenty-six hours in labor with you,--"

"Mom--"

"--and you can't even see fit to pick up the telephone and let me know that you're all right!" There was banging in the background, like pots and pans being stacked together.

"Mother! I'm going to be home soon for a whole month. You have to stop worrying about me so much. I can take care of myself." Lisa glanced at the clock, then had to look again to register the time. She'd slept through her first class and was ten minutes from being late to her second. If she hurried she could grab a shower, but breakfast was out of the question.

"--so many dangers out there," her mother was saying. "Not a day goes by that there isn't another sad story in the news. You are locking your door at night? You know you're supposed to do that. Just remember what happened in that sorority house at Florida State University. The only girl who survived was the one whose door was locked." Her mother paused for a breath and Lisa jumped in.

More reality. Lisa's mom in this story draws very heavily on things my mom has said and done. Since I attended Florida State for three horrible semesters, it was worse. Hardly a phone call went by that I didn't get warned about making sure my door was locked.

"Mom, I'll call you back later, okay? I have to get going; I overslept."

"Don't stay up so late tonight," her mother warned. "If you don't get your beauty sleep, you're going to make yourself sick."

"I will," she promised. "Don't worry." She hung up the phone without waiting for a goodbye. If she dared stay on the phone until one was spoken, she'd miss her second class too.

Ten minutes later, showered, she was running out of the door for her second class of the day. There was no way she'd be on time, but at least she'd be there. Not until she was sitting in class did she recall the dream; the reason she had overslept.

Lisa had spent the better part of three years not being a Tomorrow Person. The intensity and attention that some people dedicated to their jobs, families -- to the important things in life -- she'd dedicated to this task. By no means had it been an easy one. The other Tomorrow People were the kind of friends most people could only wish for -- it wasn't often that one found friends who were willing to sacrifice their lives for your own -- and she wanted to disown them. On those occasions when her reserve faltered and she started to forget her reasons, all she had to do was look at her driver's license. At the picture that belonged to her and the tiny black type that spelled out a name that didn't.

Info dump time. I tried not to dump too much info, but there is a certain amount of background that's necessary and this seemed like a good place to put it. It makes sense that Lisa'd be thinking about how she got where she is.

It was probably over-reacting. Her mother was known to do that, and it was her decision to take up General Damon's offer. But it had been necessary at the time. Not so much as to prevent others from coming after them. If anyone had wanted to find them, Lisa was sure a new name wouldn't have been much of a hindrance. No, the change was so they could allow themselves to feel safe.

Fanon all the way, baby. The problem is, it doesn't make enough sense. Yeah, I realize that Lisa's disappearance has to be explained somehow, and the Witness Protection thing works well enough. But I can't imagine Masters not having the resources to get beyond that.

They also wouldn't go through normal Witness Protection channels because that would involve dragging the FBI into their mess, and the FBI are probably pretty high on the list of entities that Lisa and her mom wouldn't want knowing the truth.

The Davises became the Youngs; they moved to a new state, and tried desperately to recreate what they'd had before the talent show. At times it was rather like acting out parts in a private play. And when her mother woke up with nightmares, as she sometimes did, or when Lisa came home to the smell of baking brownies, she only had to invoke the Name to make her mom feel comfortable again.

Lisa Young. Nick Young. Okay, not so subtle. Didn't need to be.

"They're not looking for the Youngs, Mother," she would say.

And her mother, who was lying shaking in bed or standing at the kitchen counter up to her elbows in flour and cocoa, would digest that information and smile and say, "Of course not. Just be careful."

'Be careful' which meant 'and don't do anything to change that'.

She had promised herself she wouldn't. And she was good about keeping it, mostly. It got harder after she moved out, during her first lonely weeks at college. It was worse even than when they'd changed their name and left a whole life behind. The option was there for her to go home, but it was one she couldn't exercise. She didn't have a car, and she wasn't about to teleport. She'd had terrible homesickness that semester, had even found herself missing brownies. She and her roommate hadn't had much to say to one another. It was easy to go for days without saying a word to anyone. In those times she found herself wondering how Adam, Megabyte and Kevin were doing. Wondering if they'd ever figured out where the ship came from and who it belonged to; if there were any other Tomorrow People.

She'd wondered, but she hadn't acted.

So, it really figured.

There's a lot more telling here than the creative writing major in me is comfortable with. I suppose I could have done this bit differently.

Especially since there seems to be a massive time lapse here. This doesn't seem like enough reminiscing to fill a whole class period.

Because Adam was waiting in her room when she returned from class.

Lisa stopped short in the doorway, hand still on the knob. Adam had changed.

He was older, of course, which was somehow a surprise in itself. She'd only known him for a few very intense days, but it didn't seem quite right that the person sitting cross-legged on her floor, thumbing through one of her text books, should look different than the face burned into her memory. He'd cut his hair, and his chin looked weaker than she remembered. But he still seemed jittery, a feeling of too much energy for one human being. He had the same quality about him as a soldier, always on guard, especially when appearing the most defenseless.

"Your roommate let me in," he explained, by way of greeting, then added, "She seems nice."

This is a fairly original-draft line from back before a roommate made any appearance in the story. Tanya was a pretty late addition to the narrative. I can't imagine what was going on that Tanya let Adam into the room and left without talking his ear off.

Lisa frowned, still trying to figure out what was happening. Adam being in her room was something she hadn't experienced since, well, ever. She hadn't seen him outside the spaceship since she became Lisa Young. Out of that context, he was all but a stranger. "Um, hi," she said warily. "I hope you didn't do anything that I have to explain," she added, depositing her backpack and jacket on the floor. Did anyone else have to worry about people appearing out of thin air, she wondered briefly, before it occurred to her that that was the least of her problems. Later, her roommate would want to know all the details -- the normal ones anyway -- who the dark-haired Australian was, how Lisa knew him, how come she'd never mentioned him before. From there it was bound to get worse.

More references to the roommate before she'd been written or included.

"Not this time," Adam responded. He met her eyes, a barely concealed grin playing around his lips.

Lisa hesitated for a moment longer before allowing herself to smile back. She forgot that underneath all the worry and responsibility, Adam had a humorous side. His jokes were always the most successful since they were the least expected. It was the side of him she knew least well, but probably better than anyone else. At least, there had been a time once when she could say that.

"Yeah, well I'd like to keep it that way." She forced the wariness from her voice before saying the last. He knew full well how she felt; there was no reason to be rude about it. And to think that once she'd questioned what interest the CIA could have in them.

Lisa shut the door and leaned back against it, the immediate small talk used up. Adam was in her room for a reason; she wasn't eager to find out what it was. Since the day she'd said goodbye, he hadn't once violated that request by coming to her. That he was here was just more proof she didn't want that another phase of her life was coming to an end.

"We haven't seen you in a long time," he finally said. He gave a last rifle of the text book's pages, then set it on the carpet and rose in a fluid motion to his feet. The room was small and filled with dual sets of heavy wooden furniture. Lisa shifted on her feet. The short distance between she and Adam was already getting uncomfortable.

She was already against the door, or she would have taken another step back. Instead, she stepped around him, began to straighten up the small amount of clutter that had accumulated during the week. She reached for a pile of notebooks on her desk, stacked haphazardly together, and was stilled when Adam touched her arm.

"Are you okay, Lisa? Your mom?" She could hear the concern in his voice, see it echoed in his every gesture. Adam needed to take care of others. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know that he wondered if he'd succeeded, if he'd made the right decision all those years ago.

Lisa looked down at the notebooks her hand rested on. They had suffered for the semester, the corners worn and bent, fourteen weeks of ink doodles masking the original bright colors. "Mom's good. She worries. She mails me tins of brownies every couple of weeks."

"I thought she might," he said. "Mothers always have a hard time letting their children go."

"Especially mine," she murmured.

Adam grinned as he nodded in empathy, then his tone turned more questioning, as if he wasn't sure what topics were safe and which would scare her off again. "Do you like it here? University?"

"Yeah," she said, brightening. "I do. My biggest excitement is finals, but that's kind of the point. I mean, don't *you* ever wish it could go back to how it was before?"

There was a slight pause in which he glanced down at his feet, then he said, "It can't."

There's a whole nother story in this line. Not about this line, but in it. I plan to write that story someday.

"It can too," she replied, sounding childish even to her own ears. "My life was good. There was no one trying to kill me, or experiment on me. Did you know that in my first sixteen years, I was never once kidnapped? Taken hostage for any reason? And I didn't know anyone else who was either."

"And now?"

"Now is even better," she said. "I have everything I always wanted. I have college, and friends, and I know where my mom is, and I know she's safe." She gave a short laugh. "I have a boyfriend. An actual boyfriend."

"You're lonely," he said.

"I don't have to wake up every morning wondering who's going to try to kill me today," she retorted.

Another short pause, while Adam glanced out the window at the deceptively bright day. It looked sunny and warm, but was in fact bitter cold with a harsh breeze that had burned Lisa's face as she walked home from class. "But you do," he finally said.

I really like this conversation. This exchange is probably my favorite bit in the whole story.

"I was doing fine," she said, intending her words to sound cold, and ending up with mournful. "Why are you here?"

Another quick look out the window, then he turned to her all with all seriousness. Adam-the-leader stood before her. He raked a hand through his short hair. "Lisa, the ship . . . it wants something. Something from one of us."

Us.

Sometimes she hated that word. It never seemed to include her in anything she wanted to be part of.

She didn't answer. She did not want to talk about this. She straightened the notebooks again, then turned to the bed and pulled up the crumpled sheets on the bottom bunk, doing what she could to make the bed without crawling onto it. That task done, she turned back to Adam who was still there, staring at her patiently. He hadn't even changed positions.

"I hoped you might know what," he said. "I've already talked to the others, and they're just as blank as I am."

This was her chance, she realized. She should tell him about the dream, about meeting Sara. She had found another Tomorrow Person, after all. Another in a strain of humanity so new all the members could still be numbered on two hands. However, new Tomorrow People usually appeared off the island's shore, their first teleport ending in a salt-water bath. They did not appear in dreams. Maybe he could tell her what it meant.

She had to laugh at that thought, or she would have if she had been alone and certain that no one could hear her. After all this time, and all the distance, she was thinking-- seriously thinking-- about letting them back in. Because she wasn't stupid enough to think it would stop at Adam. Letting him back meant letting all of them back. It meant going back to a time in her life she had no desire to remember, much less re-experience.

'Be careful' her mom said.

Lisa was pretty sure this didn't qualify as careful.

He'd barely been here ten minutes and she was already weakening. Her instincts told her to turn to him, to trust him, because he would know the answers. Adam had broken out into being a Tomorrow Person first, lived with his powers the longest, and experienced the most. But she wasn't far behind. She'd acquired her powers only weeks after him, and she was only a couple years younger. She should be able to take care of any problems on her own; what Adam knew, she should know.

Lisa's logic here holds not at all since she's been living in denial of her powers for years. I just want to point out that she's not being rational or logical; she's scared out of her mind.

And still that part of her kept trying to tell her what she should do, without considering what it would cost. She should let them in, it said. There was a reason. She should trust Adam, it said. There was a good reason. She should tell him because he might know what to do next.

"Lisa," he prompted.

But she knew what came next. If she said anything, he'd convince her to return to the island with him. Then they'd be up to their ears in the kind of adventure that some people spend their lives seeking, and Lisa had spent hers avoiding.

She averted her eyes to the worn schoolbooks again. There, scribbled in green ink was her name. The one that wasn't hers. She wondered if Adam would understand that too, if he would understand how much he was asking her to give up. Again.

"Adam," she began, and stopped. How could she express herself? How could she make him understand, when she wasn't even sure she understood? She glanced out the window at the students passing by, the lucky, lucky students who didn't even realize how lucky they were. None of them, she was sure, would ever have to worry about this kind of conversation. They, at least, had problems of the predictable kind. Their problems had solutions, well known and practiced, because someone else had had the same kind of problem, and someone before that, and someone before that.

A chime broke into her thoughts; the clock tower announcing the hour.

"Adam," she tried again. "I--" The tower quieted, the slack filled now with the increased volume of chatter as students poured from the surrounding buildings. "Did that just ring four times?"

"I think so," he said. "I wasn't counting."

Her shoulders suddenly relaxed, her breath escaping in a quick gasp. "I have class. I have to go to class. Now." She didn't even try to hide her relief. Saved by the bell.

"Lisa, this is important."

"I know. We'll talk about it later, okay?" Her eyebrows went up, countenance expressing a silent plea. "I promise," she added. "I can't miss class; my mother would kill me if she found out." She grabbed the backpack and winter coat that still sat by the door and rushed out, leaving Adam behind.

So she slept through an early class, attended but wasn't there for one right after that, and now has one at 4:00. I believe she's off to History of English, but I don't remember making that a 4:00 class. Poor girl.

In the hallway, a mural of snowmen and ice skaters was being created along the cinder block walls and wooden doors in preparation for a holiday season that would leave the building closed and empty with no one around to look at or enjoy the effort being put into the decorating. Pairs of girls were scattered up and down the hallway involved in the construction paper and glitter project. Lisa nodded at one of the pairs, two girls she recognized from a class but couldn't place names to, and headed towards the exit at the opposite end of the long hall.


One of my faults as a writer is a bad habit of taking a dialogue up to a critical moment, and then switching scenes to someone or sometime else. I started to notice that habit while writing this story, and made a huge effort to keep scenes going longer than I thought they should. The end result always managed to pleasantly surprise me. This is one of them.

This chapter is nine pages long and is one continous scene. I'm pretty sure that's a record for me.

"Lisa, wait!" Adam padded up behind her.

"No," she said. "I'm going to be late." She struggled into her jacket as she went, juggling her backpack from one arm to the other as she tried to get everything on in the correct order before hitting the outside and whatever whims of the weather awaited.

"Yeah! You go, Lisa!" the two girls yelled, drawing the attention of the scattered others who had been at work. Two other girls cheered loudly. The floor as a whole never acted much as if they liked boys or anything to do with them. Yet this was the same floor that, when a fire alarm had gone off at 3:00 in the morning on their second day of school, had more boys exit the rooms than girls. That was only the first time that Lisa had huddled out on the lawn in her pajamas, hugging herself in a fit of shyness, and wishing that whomever had failed to do his or her job in keeping the all-girls residence hall all-girls would be dismissed on the spot.

"Wait, please," Adam begged. He grabbed her left sleeve as she was trying to slide her arm through it and pulled it back off. She wrenched it out of his hands and turned to face him, the jacket still dangling half on.

"Class, Adam," she stated, nodding her head to show that he was also supposed to nod his head and agree with what she said. "That's the part where I leave this building and go to another one to sit in a crowded room and get lectured at about something that has no relevance to my life whatsoever, except that it's required, and as they say: to do the stuff you want to do, sometimes you have to do the stuff you don't want to it. Only, I'm pretty sure that "stuff" isn't the word that usually gets used, and I want to go to medical school. Okay?" She turned to continue towards the door, and ran right into her roommate.

The phrase is "To do the sh*t you want to do, sometimes you have to do the sh*t you don't want to," and is a favorite one of one of DH's friends. I never noticed that extra "it" there at the end of the sentence. That's not supposed to be there.

The older woman, a junior to Lisa's sophomore, posed in the hall like a model at the end of the runway. She wore skintight black jeans and a black roll necked sweater. Static electricity fluffed her dark brown hair in a halo around her head, yet she somehow managed to look as if that was exactly what she had intended her hair to do.

"Omigod, *you* have been keeping secrets from me!" Tanya announced, letting her gaze brush the length of Adam's body in a way that was neither decorous nor polite. "Here I think there's not much to you, then *he* shows up at the door," she continued, the near shouting level of her voice drawing everyone's attention to the scene.

Inside voice, Tanya. Inside voice.

Adam muttered something behind her, and for once Lisa felt like they were on the same side. Her immediate instinct was to shush her roommate and deny any wrongdoing. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, putting as much steel into the expression as she knew how. It was hopeless to try to silence Tanya, but it was damning to respond to her. The girl treated conversation like catching a fish: casting out topics until one was seized, then reeling it in and drowning it in air until it died.

"How could you keep something that . . . gorgeous . . . hidden? Unless you were trying to keep him for yourself? You weren't trying to keep him for yourself?" Tanya continued, volume unmoderated. She talked at Lisa as if Adam weren't standing right there. "Is he seeing anyone? Are you two a thing? Is he gay? He's not gay, is he? Please tell me he's straight and available."

Gotta put the joke in about Adam's (KS's) sexuality since IIRC that was a fairly hot topic on the chat channel around this time.

"Adam," Lisa whispered over her shoulder, "Escape. Now."

He nodded once and took a step back towards the dorm room. He would duck in there, Lisa figured, and teleport back to the island, and Tanya would be left forever wondering how he got away. It was almost justice.

"Do you like coffee?" Tanya turning on Adam, who looked like he was ready to teleport away regardless of the audience. "I know this *great* coffee place. It's over on Third street. Do you go to school here? You know where Third street is, right?" She waved a pointed finger in an array of different directions that did nothing to clarify which direction Third street might be in. "On the corner of Forrest and Third. Oh, I can't remember what the place is called. Lisa, what's that place called on Forrest and Third? Or is it Graham and Third? It might be Graham and Third."

And coffee makes its third appearance in the story. Someone should do a drinking game. With coffee.

Forrest and Graham streets are, of course, references to Buffy. I needed street names and those were the first names that popped into my head.

It just occurs to me that I really dropped the ball here. I should have named the streets after more linguistics people. Maybe Chomsky street and Sapir street. Or Whorf and Sapir, since there's a Sapir/Whorf hypothesis (If the perceptions of the speakers shape the elements of the language (a relative given in the field) is it possible that the elements of the language can shape the perceptions of the speakers?)

"It's Fourth street," Lisa found herself answering, almost against her will. "And it closed last semester."

Tanya looked momentarily disappointed, then sized up Adam again "But you still like coffee? You look like the kind of guy who just *loves* coffee. French Silk Mocha. You don't look like a cappuccino kind of guy."

I'm pretty sure I made up French Silk Mochas. Although I'm a coffee addict drinker, that's a fairly new development. At the time of writing this story, I didn't drink the stuff. It was strictly tea for me. Regardless, I've never developed a taste for flavored coffees, or any kind of fancy coffees. But Tanya said French Silk Mocha, and so it is.

"Coffee?" Adam stuttered.

"I knew it," Tanya announced, triumphantly. "Definitely mochas. French Silk Mochas. They're so rich, and those chocolate shavings on top, mmmm."

"I-I don't--." He looked helplessly at Lisa.

Fine. Lisa stepped forward. "Tanya, Adam's just visiting and right now he has to go away. Far away. He doesn't drink coffee, he doesn't go to school here, and he's not interested in you." While she talked, Adam was backing towards the dorm room. She waited until Adam had gotten close enough to the room to be out of firing range before finishing, in the sweetest voice she could muster, "Fair enough?"

Tanya paused for just a second, a long second in which she seemed to be processing Lisa's words. One of her hands crept up and tugged at the longer of the three earrings dangling from her right ear. "You mean you *are* dating?" she asked, yanking on the earring again and not seeming at all surprised. "Are you lovers?"

Tanya has a way of seeing the truth that no one else is aware of.

Without answering, Lisa finished shrugging her jacket on, zipped up the front, then settled the backpack in place, its weight reassuring on her shoulders. "I'm going this way," she told Tanya, pointing towards the exterior doors at the end of the hall. She pushed past Tanya, knowing the girl wouldn't step aside without prompting, and walked towards her destination, and her freedom. Getting outside, continuing her schedule as it had been every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the last semester, would be normal. It would be what she came here to achieve. She hoped, somehow, Adam would also escape back to relative safety on the other side of the world, where he would stay, never, never to return.

"It's not fair!" Tanya lamented behind her. "Your life is just so cool. You are so lucky."

Someone had to say it. Delicious irony born in ignorance.

Actually, this is the line that beget Tanya. If I recall, the original scene was in the cafeteria. Lisa is half-heartedly pushing lasagna around on her plate and Tanya plops herself down and starts in with the whole monologue written above. I got about three quarters of a page written (long-hand, in my notebook) and Lisa still hadn't gotten a word in edgewise, when the scene petered out. A note to myself in the margin was "give Lisa something to do here." The scenette languished for a long time since I wasn't sure what Lisa could do there. Then I pushed myself beyond what I thought was the natural end of the conversation in this chapter (Lisa leaving the dorm room) and suddenly found a need for Tanya to be in the story.

Tanya asking Adam on a date came later.

End Chapter 3