Turn 15

Before she gets the chance to start her investigations in earnest, her secure comms go off. On the other end is Jack. "Dee," his voice wavering uncharacteristically, "I know you wanna be alone right now but I really need to talk to you...." After a false start she asks,"What is it?"

"I don't wanna say over the horn. I'd rather tell you in person. Where are you? I'll be there zippity-do-dah."

Bad news. "I'm at the library. I'll meet you outside."

Jack tries to put a happier tone to the conversation. "Meetcha on the roof. Beat feet, Scales. I'll race ya."

"Jack...." She takes an unsteady breath. "Don't. All right? See you soon." She hangs up.

Jack's already in the common even as Dee steps out of the library moments later. He's girl-watching and doesn't yet take notice of Dee. Hell, he's probably not even taking stock of the co-eds so much as doing it reflexively.

"Hey."

"D'oh!" he utters as he realizes what he had been doing. His cheeks blush slightly under his mask. He walks a few paces past Dee to sit at the base of the large broze statue dedicated to UVM's first Dean, Jefferson Cooper.

He hangs his head for a moment. His shoulders tense with stress. He exhales deeply and then looks up at Dee. "I hate the timing of this...." She stares off at the sky.

"...Dusty Red Dog's been asked to open for Britney. On Earth...."

Dee glares at him. "I *said* cut with the jokes for chrissakes."

"Not jokin', kiddo."

A few moments of staring suffices to convince her that he's serious. "Well. Have fun," she gets out without starting to cry or to scream at him.

...or so she hoped. Jack arcs through the air and touches down once more in front of his friend. He places both hands on her biceps gently to stop her forward motion.

"Wait a sec. Don't be like that ...please. I don't wanna cut out on you here and now. What kinda MLF do you take me for?"

"Well if you're not going what did you bring it up for?!"

His posture slumps once again taking a defeated look. "I don't know what I'm doing. It's a big opportunity. Making a dent on the charts back on Big Blue could really take the band to the next level. We wouldn't have to go for another week or so -- management's still trying to figger out the schedule. And maybe if Z could loan me one of the League's rides I could leave even later."

"Well gee, don't strain yourself for us," she spits, anger at last getting the upper hand. "God damn you, how can you even THINK about leaving now? We just l-lost T-Terry and you're th-thinking about--" She turns away sharply, tears breaking loose again. An uncertain Rajni hisses at Jack as the apparent source of her distress. "S-stop that."

Confident his enhanced physique can deal with an attack from Rajni if worst came to worst he moves to wipe her tears away.

Or tries to, as she avoids him.

"Dee... Winston needs me too. A lot of crap just landed on her too. This gig could go a long way toward helping her out of a jam." Jack, normally a motormouth, seems surprisingly tight-lipped on the subject's specifics.

"Then go," she mutters bitterly, drying her eyes with her sleeve. "Maybe they'll let you stay."

"Would you listen to me? I don't _wanna_ go but I might have to. I'm not trying to ditch you or anyone else. I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place."

Dee knows for a fact that a part of Jack would love nothing more than to jam for the rest of his days. She also knows that he'd miss the League. Moreso still, she _knows_ he loves her, probably on a number of levels and that he would never willingly do anything to hurt her.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she replies eventually. Her throat hurts, her head hurts. "I mean fine, whatever, you have to go, then... fine. Fine. We'll manage here. What the fuck else can we do?"

"I want you to say you don't hate me. That we're still friends. That, even if I can't say why, you'd respect my judgment."

"Moron," she mumbles, turning to put her arms around him.

* * *

In the days after their return from Duat Eleanor had found it difficult to reconcile the reality of what had happened on her first mission with the mental picture she'd created beforehand. In her imagination no-one had died, least of all one of her friends.

The sheer exhaustion had gone but the doubts and worries remained. Eleanor was initially glad of the solitude, the opportunity to recover, but now her own brain chatter was tormenting her with what ifs? She suspected that she'd never get answers to some of her questions but there was at least one avenue she could persue. With that in mind she had rung the Lair earlier that day to ascertain Margeurite's whereabouts only to be told by Roberto that she was staying with Pavel. That in itself was both a surprise and a source of relief at the same time.

Arriving at Pavel's at the prearrranged time Eleanor felt nervous, she didn't want to alienate a potential friend and ally but the need for explanations was very strong. Although Psyche had taken her at face value Eleanor was not quite so trusting; perhaps it was the journalist in her but she wanted to know more about this woman and what this woman now knew about her.

Following Marguerite into Pavel's home she was glad that they'd be able to talk without him overhearing. Having exchanged pleasantries Eleanor made the first overture into conversation , "I'm glad you've got somewhere to stay other than the Lair; Pavel's a good guy isn't he? He's been kind to me when I've made mistakes and he has a sense of humour too. "

Eleanor can't help but recall the day Gaslight had insisted she accompany him to "visit some friends..." She had been extremely apprehensive about meeting other 'powereds' but he had been adament. Naturally Mason had been correct, she was definately better off with the Leaguers, but it was Pavel who'd first made her feel welcome.

Marguerite smiles and she stetches out upon a chaise lounge. "Do not let him hear me say this but he is a very good man. The Pavel of 20 odd years ago would bluster if someone had said such a thing."

She reads a questioning twist of an eyebrow on Eleanor's face and continues, "In the past, this goodness was less close to the surface. I'm sure I'm as much to blame as his youth. How do you say, "contributing to the deliquency of a youngster"?

She chuckles. One of the few memories left untouched from their shared effort in Duat clearly playing out in her mind. She pours herself some tea and once getting non-verbal acknowledgement from her guest, does the same for Eleanor.

"Surely this is not what you wished to speak of, no?"

Eleanor continues, "I, I wanted to thank you for help with Terraform, it can't have been easy to wake up and immediately get dragged into a fight. I'm not sure how we did it, or even if we should have, but I know I couldn't have done it on my own."

"When he was tapped into that dreadful creature's power he not only summoned your cadre to his side but freed the trapped physic essences. He was looking for help from every avenue possible in case he was subsumed entirely by the monster's will. We were happy to help return the favor. Destroying the Pyramid helped sever the creature's connection to darker powers still yet."

"Many of those fantoms were trapped far, far longer than I. I imagine some went on to their final resting places, while others have reincarnated." Eleanor can't tell if Marguerite actually believes what she says is true or not. She has that same inscrutable poker face Pavel wields on a regular basis.

"To try to free his essence, to give him another chance at life, it was the only option we had."

"I don't know about you but I felt pretty rough afterwards; it was so intense and for the first time ever I'm glad Mum nagged me to keep a diary...." her voice trails off recalling the sense of loss associated with her memories being blanked. She knew she'd forgotten important events in her life but frustratingly she didn't know which.

"To be honest, I'm not really sure just how much control I have over my powers, sometimes they seem to have a mind of their own so whatever I do it ends up being extreme!" Eleanor grins wryly, her smile doing a poor job at hiding the fear beneath her words, "How do you manage yours?"

"Perhaps it does, child" her words seem odd as she looks younger than Eleanor by a few years but the tone is that of an aged mentor. "The nature of our powers are shrouded. Your scientists call them "rogue", no? Their signatures are different than that of many of your compatriots. Pavel and that scoundrel Heisenberg are akin to us as well. We are touched by forces more adaptable, more chaotic then your fellows.

"Managing my own powers is far less a concern of mine as it seems as if they have largely burned out," yet another sacrifice made on Duat.

"...but I have enough to sense your own abilities are growing. Your raw power increasing. You will need my instruction. If you would have me I would gladly offer you my experience and tutor you in the ways of power."

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