Well, I think it's fantastic and have read it 3 times already. 
Brilliant, utterly brilliant!
Loving it, Stase!
thats ace, i must write hawks backstory up in full, once again good work
Wow....that was absolutely amazing!
Very well written, nice character depth and lots of nice little details about Paragon.
I'd like some more please.
"Idealism is such a wonderful thing. All you really need is someone rational to put it to proper use." - Kerr Avon
Myopic Aardvark on Twitter
Wow, guys. Thank you!
I'm proud of the piece, but know it's weak compared to my usual standard (well, I don't often get the chance to brag 
); and you lot liking it is just, well...wow!
These comments have definately put the spark back into my creativity. I'll get some more done soon, already have an idea for one.
A super story, Sis - I'm glad I can bump it back to the front by saying how much I enjoyed it!
((This isn't my best work, but the idea had to be written down as quickly as possible, and I knew if I left it to "mature", I'd lose interest.
It can be read as a stand-alone, but knowing Stase's true history helps. In her real history, her dad dies when she's very young and she's brought up in an orphanage. This is a "What if?" story.
Enjoy!))
It's not rare, that at five am, I wake up and start thinking the strangest thoughts. My boyfriend never wakes up that early, so I sit in bed thinking while he breathes gently next to me, deep in dreams. Hopefully happy dreams.
This morning, my thoughts wandered to the same thing they have done for the past six weeks:
If you were offered the chance to go back to a certain point in your life, and change the outcome, would you take it? If you had had a life like mine, you probably would.
Everything happens for a reason, right? A single chain of events can change the course of your life forever - and changing only one of those couldn't possibly make a difference; could it?
I've seen some strange things in the past coupla years. For instance, I used to believe one hundred percent, that everyone dies in the end - I was young and naive then. Now I know better. I've seen things and met people you wouldn't believe. Hell, even looking in the mirror every morning startles me. 'Bout six weeks ago, I would've seen a tall, gangling girl staring back at me. Now I see a filled out, mature woman. Funny the way things can turn out, isn't it?
But, would they have turned out this way if that one event in my life hadn't happened? I told you I used to think everyone and everything had to die in the end. Used to.
************************************************** ************
"Breakfast!"
Ugh.
"Breakfast's ready! Wakey wakey, rise and shine!"
I say again, ugh.
"Jemima, if you're not down here in the next ten minutes, the dog's getting your bacon!"
Blackmail, just like my father. I was out of bed in thirty seconds flat, and hurtling down the stairs moments later. No dog was getting my bacon; not even my sloppy, overweight lump of a Rottweiler. My stubbornness didn't go un-rewarded though, and as a result of my eagerness to get at the salty, meaty goodness, I was hit by the worst headache I'd ever experienced. Dad seemed to notice, and immediately shoved a steaming pot (to say mug would be an understatement) of coffee under my nose. The smell, which I'd usually savour, made me want to hurl.
"Thanks, dad," I murmured, shielding my eyes from the harsh light.
"Welcome sweetheart."
He went back to the stove, resuming his task. The bacon hissed and spat at the intrusion, but he kept on merrily poking and prodding at it. "Long night?" He asked. I could almost hear him smirking.
"Hmm." Monosyllabic grunts are pretty much all the response a hangover will allow.
"Janice get home ok?"
Janice is my best friend. God knows why, we're complete opposites. She's curvy, blonde, stunningly beautiful and hyper-intelligent. I'm tall, gangling, deeply brunette and only just passed my SATs. Despite that, we'd do anything for each other. We'd die for one another. And the best thing? She gets on with my dad almost as well as I do. The times I've had to pass the phone to him, because he wanted to have a chat with Jan.
"Yeah." She's a bad influence on me though. Probably because she's only a coupla years older, but can pass for a twenty-one year old easy. I'm only seventeen, but I've been drinking socially for at least two years now. Dad doesn't mind. He knows I know my limit.
"Good good, Dad shot me a grin, and told me to drink up while he served two platefuls of bacon, pancakes, waffles and syrup. My mouth watered at the sight of it, but my stomach tried to detach itself from my body and escape to the drugstore, where it could gorge itself on antacid. "Eat up, honey. Once you've got some food inside you, you'll feel all the better." I growled at him. He was right, of course, but I wouldn't ever admit that. He just chuckled in response, and dug in to his equally large plate of breakfast.
I followed suit, slowly; but my attention was drawn by the sudden change in dad's appearance. Instead of the usual blissful grin he saved for meal times, he was frowning and clutching at his chest. His eyes out of focus and his left temple twitching slightly.
"You ok, dad?"
My hangover was immediately forgotten. Dad's not young. He must've been at least twenty years older than mom when I was born. She left when I was tiny, so I don't remember anything about her - and dad never wants to talk about her. I don't mind. She's nothing to me. My world is my father. So you can understand why I was more than a little worried to see him so obviously in distress.
He didn't answer.
I started to get up from the table, and then it happened.
Dad let out the longest, loudest belch I have ever heard. And I went to a co-ed school.
"Much better. I've got to remember, bacon doesn't agree with me but..."
"...it's "oh so tasty!"" I finished for him, and we both set about laughing.
************************************************** ************
"Dad! Dad! Have you seen my shoes?" I called from my bedroom a few hours later. We'd finished breakfast and then watched some kids TV for a while before Jan had called, begging me to go to the mall with her. I'd started to protest, Saturdays were my days with dad, when she said it:
"Floyd's got a new job at the burger bar. He's working today!"
I love Jan, I'd follow her to the ends of the earth; but if she nabs Floyd before I do, there will be hell to pay. Floyd's my age, so younger than Janice; and he's the most gorgeous guy in our town. Every girl with eyes wants him, me being the most persistent of the lot. Well, save Jan. We've been fighting over him for years now, and none of us has managed to reach that, "more than just good friends" status. Sure, he's had girlfriends. He's had hundreds of girlfriends. And they're always the same: Cheerleaders, gymnasts, singers, dancers, and band girls. Once even, he dated a supermodel! I'm not kidding. Floyd is catnip to girls.
"One of them's hanging over the fireplace, and I think you left the other one in the bathroom." Dad replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. He thinks I'm incorrigible, but he's just as bad. Where do you think I got the habit from? Last week, I found his screwdriver in the fridge. He didn't seem to know how it'd got there.
Once I'd found the rogue bathroom-shoe, I grabbed some money from my ever-decreasing piggy bank (it's actually a shoebox under my bed), gave my dad a hug and rushed out to meet Jan. Today would be the day I finally got Floyd for myself. If only I'd remembered to brush my hair.
************************************************** ************
"You're late."
Janice was standing, hands on hips; outside the burger bar Floyd was working in, staring me down. She'd make a great mom some day; she already had the unimpressed look down pat.
"I'm not late. You said, "meet me at twelve", so I got here," I checked my watch, "At half past. Naturally." Yeah. I can backtrack fast.
She giggled, and hooked her arm in mine. Together we stalked defiantly into the burger bar, and marched right up to the counter to be confronted by the strangest sight. Floyd. In a red and white sailor-style cap and matching apron. Stifling our giggles, we ordered two cheeseburgers without pickle (Jan and I may differ in a lot of ways, but neither of us can stand those little green slices of disgust) and even threw in a, "Thank you my good man" for good measure. Floyd sneered, but got us our order and murmured that he'd join us in a few minutes as his shift was nearly over.
I have to say, if anything could have eliminated my love for him, it would've been that outfit. He looked awful. In a drop dead gorgeous kinda way.
He was as good as his word though, and joined me and Jan at our table before we'd finished our sodas. Dressed, thank God, in normal clothes again. His hair was a little mussed from the silly hat, but that only made him look even cuter.
"You two'd better not tell anyone else I work here. If Doc found out..."
"Doc knows." Jan quipped, without looking up.
Doc was another of our friends. He was the sensible one of the lot, and the rest of us found him highly annoying.
"Thanksalot," Floyd playfully punched Jan on the shoulder, and in return, she blushed. I hate it when she blushes. She looks even more attractive, and I know she knows it. She knows I know she knows it. And what's worse, Floyd knows she knows it. We'd been here for only a few minutes, and already they were flirting. I had to act quickly.
"How much they paying you here?" I asked. Unfortunately, this made Floyd turn to look at me, and my knees melted. No, literally. My knees actually melted. Even they wanted him. "'Bout three dollars an hour. Not much, but I need all the extra money I can get." He smiled, I smiled. I blushed. While Jan's blushing accents her pretty cheekbones, my blushing highlights my less than perfect complexion.
His eyes were twinkling so much, I knew something was up. But I couldn't find my voice. Floyd was staring deep into my eyes, willing me to ask what he needed the extra money for, and all I could do was stare back, blushing, hoping he hadn't noticed the beginnings of a zit on my chin, and beg him silently to fall in love with me there and then.
Jan finally came to the rescue.
"For what?"
"Sorry?" Floyd asked, tearing his eyes away from mine. Had he been...flirting with me?
"The extra money. What do you need the extra money for?"
"OH!"
A cheeky grin spread across his face, and he motioned us to lean in towards him. Without a moment's hesitation, Jan and I were practically nose-to-nose with him.
"I've found one."
Jan nearly leapt out of her seat.
"You have? Where? Who? Can he get the stuff to us soon?"
Superadine. The new wonder drug on the market. Floyd and Jan were addicted to the stuff. I'd tried it a few times, and the buzz was amazing; but I wasn't craving it. I didn't really like it. Drinking I could do. Petty shoplifting I could do. Drugs...they were serious. They were dangerous.
"Calm it, doll."
Jan blushed again. He sounds so unbelievably sexy when he says things like that. He only ever says it to Jan though. He calls me, "Animal". Guys can be such pricks sometimes.
"He said he'd meet me in Brickstown tomorrow night. So I'm working double shifts today and tomorrow to raise the money. Ralph's coming, Doc said he'd come but only to keep an eye on us. You and Animal have to come."
"Why?" I asked. What did he need us for? Not that I wouldn't go anywhere with him, of course.
"Well. Jan has to teleport us into the base, and we need you to...well, we need you..."
"Meat shield, I nodded.
Noticed anything strange yet? We ain't normal, us lot. I'll give you a clue. We all live in a small town just outside of Brickstown, Paragon City. Yeah. The "superhero" state. All of us, me, Jan, Floyd, Ralph and Doc have special powers. Some of us were born with them, like me and Doc. He's, you've probably guessed, an empath. Meaning he can heal virtually any wound and is training to resurrect the dead. Floyd's a speedster. Ralph can emit sonic blasts, using his voice. He's the worst singer ever; but he can knock a grown man out cold. Jan can teleport herself and others to anyplace she thinks of. And I, well...I'm invulnerable. A bullet can kill me, but a repeated beating doesn't do diddly squat. So, I'm their bodyguard, or "meat shield". We know the normals think we're weird, but to us, we're not any stranger than the man who sits on the corner, talking to his imaginary pet platypus.
"Something like that. So, you'll come?"
"Sure. We'll come." I answered. A little bit of adventure never hurt, and anyway - I had a day to find a reason to get out of it.
"Great! You two can get to meet Sarah."
Who's Sarah? Jan and I thought at the same time. We looked at each other, puzzled for a minute - then it clicked. New girlfriend. Why not? He had been single for at least a week already.
An hour later, after hearing all about Sarah, Floyd said he had to start his second shift, Jan decided she'd go home to study (to mope), and so I headed off to the ice cream palace. Whenever I'm upset, I crave pistachio ice cream.
The waitress there knows me, and had my order ready before I could blink. I handed her the dollar fifty, and she gave me the biggest scoop of pistachio I could hope for. I must've looked even more upset than usual today.
Stupid Floyd.
Stupid Sarah.
Stupid air headed romance that's only going to last about a month.
Stupid crush.
Stupid drugs run.
Stupid guy!
The last one wasn't at Floyd, but the guy who'd walked straight into me and my dish of pistachio, spilling it all over my nice (almost) clean white shirt.
"Sorry. Sorry." He muttered as he bent down to pick up the smashed dish. All I did was stare at him. I'm a klutz, but this guy. I mean, the place wasn't even crowded. It was almost as if he wanted to walk right into me. "I'm sorry. I'll pay for another." He gabbled, without looking up.
The top of his head was nice looking. I hadn't seen the rest yet.
"Don't worry about it. I probably should lay off it anyway."
He looked up quickly. A nice face, he was older than me by a few years, and he wore glasses (a major turn off of mine). But behind the glasses were the nicest pair of eyes I'd ever seen. Floyd's eyes were nice, but they were a muddy brown and not at all interesting. But this man's eyes were a cool blue, not a harsh blue, a kind and gentle blue. If I wasn't so in love with Floyd, I might have considered falling for this klutz.
"I insist."
Before I could protest, he'd vanished. Literally. One minute he was there, the next he wasn't. Ordinarily, I might have found this strange - but then, I was friends with the likes of Jan, and the others. This guy was another one of us, and wasn't afraid to show it.
Seconds later he was back with my fresh dish of ice cream. I took it gladly, and thanked him. Found myself an empty booth and tucked in.
What? He broke my dish, he bought me another one, I said thank you. What else was I supposed to do?
"You're not intrigued?"
Talk to him some more, obviously. He'd followed me to my booth, and sat down opposite - no ice cream with him, and no soda. This was getting weird. And who uses words like, "intrigued" anyway?
"Not really. I kinda just want to finish my ice cream and get home."
"But, I vanished right in front of you..."
"I know."
"And then reappeared."
"I know."
"That's not normal."
"I know."
He laughed, "Do you ever say anything else?"
I started to say, "I know" again, but caught myself. It's true; I do get stuck in a rut sometimes. Especially when some strange clumsy guy with beautiful eyes follows me around an ice cream parlour.
"You're new here, aren't you?" I asked him, my eyes drawn to his left arm which he was hugging. "This is Paragon. Things like that happen all the time and you might wanna check your arm." I nodded at it, both my hands busy with the dish and the spoon. "It hurts, doesn't it?"
"A little bit. How did you know?"
"Well," I put my spoon down and resigned myself to talking to the stranger, "When people walk straight into me, they kinda get hurt. You wanna test it?" I held out my arm, and invited him to flick it gently. He obliged and immediately yelped a little in pain.
"Ow."
"Yeah. I'm tough, me." I smiled at him, hoping that would be the end of that, and he'd leave me in peace.
No such luck.
"My name's Mike."
"That's nice for you."
"I got in a few days ago. From Russia."
"Cool, I chuckled at my joke. He didn't.
"People usually call me Weasel."
Okay. That got me going. I spat out the spoonful of ice cream, and dissolved into laughter. That had got to be the silliest nickname. Then I remembered what Floyd called me, and stopped laughing. Well, "Mike" and I had coupla things in common then. We were both abnormals and we both had stupid nicknames. I frowned a bit, and decided I should probably set things right with the guy. He was looking a little hurt.
"I'm sorry. I'm Jemima. People call me..., No, he wasn't going to get my nickname, "People call me Jemima."
Instead of smiling, or frowning, or in fact, speaking - he gave me a puzzled look. Perhaps he'd never heard the name before?
"It's not a common name. My Nan was English, so I guess it comes from there."
"It's not that," He said at last, "It's just, well...I didn't expect you to be called that."
"Oh? What did you think I'd be called?"
"Something beginning with S."
That made me think of Sarah. Which made me think of Floyd. Which made me depressed. I suddenly wanted to go home, curl up on the sofa with dad and mope for the rest of the day. Mike must've noticed my change in demeanour.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Jemima's a really nice name."
"Oh, it's not that. It's something else. Something silly. Look, it was nice talking to you an' all, but I really do have to get home."
He didn't try to stop me. But he did give me his card, and tell me to contact him if, "anything strange happens in the next five years." Apparently, even guys with nice eyes and superpowers can be freaks.
I took his card, wished him a nice day and headed home. All the time thinking about stupid Sarah and her stupid boyfriend.
************************************************** ************
"Bacon's ready!"
The next morning, I was all moped out and ready for a hearty breakfast. Dad had consoled me most of the night, and I'd spent the rest talking to Jan on the phone. I hadn't been hungry, so dad hadn't cooked dinner. This was the first meal I'd had in over twelve hours, and my stomach was rumbling loudly at the prospect.
"Bacon again, dad? You sure that's a good idea?" I was joking, but part of me was serious. I still couldn't shake the feeling of dread I'd had the previous morning, when he'd clutched at his heart.
"Quiet you. Your old dad knows what's good for him."
"Yeah, emphasis on old," I mumbled just loud enough for him to hear me. He did. And gave me a playful swipe 'round the head. Well, to me it felt playful, for all I know, he put all his strength behind it.
We sat down and ate together quietly. There was nothing much to talk about, but the silence wasn't awkward. Dad and I were too close to feel awkward.
I knew he'd get me back for my jabs at him, and he did only a moment later.
In a perfect impression of himself the previous morning, dad clutched at his chest, threw his eyes out of focus and started breathing heavily. He wasn't fooling anyone this time.
"Very funny, ha ha. You can give it up now dad. Your jokes are getting old."
No response.
"Dad, come on! You can't scare me anymore, remember? I can sit through The Exorcist without batting an eyelid. I'm immune to scares."
No response, again.
"It's old dad. Get over yourself. You're not funny, I grinned, but it lasted only a second. Without warning, dad's eyes slammed shut and he slid from his chair. I knew immediately this was no joke. Dad can't do slapstick, the guy has arthritis and can barely move some mornings. Falling off a chair would not be his idea of fun. It would be his idea of pain.
I rushed to his aid, but he was out cold. His breathing was shallow and jagged, which both frightened and calmed me. One, I knew he was still alive. Two, for how much longer?
"Dad! Dad! Wake up. Oh god, please wake up!"
************************************************** ************
Sitting in the hospital waiting room a few hours later, I finally started to calm down. Dad had had a minor cardiac arrest, and would need to stay in hospital for a week or so - but he wasn't going to die. He'd come around about an hour ago, and the first thing he asked the doctors was, "Was it the bacon?". We all laughed at that, even the doctor - though he did seem a bit confused at first.
Jan was on her way to pick me up. I'd arranged to stay with her until dad was better. She was great, Jan. She spoke to dad on the phone for a bit, and made him laugh - then told me she knew he'd get better, and if the doctors weren't any good, she'd send Doc over. I knew she was kidding. Doc could heal wounds, not heart problems; but the thought was nice, and it cheered me up. In turn, I told her about the strange man with the blue eyes. She suggested he was Platypus Man's brother or something, and we laughed at that too. But as I sat there waiting for her, letting dad get some much needed rest in his private room, I fished the card out of my pocket (I was wearing the same jeans as I'd worn yesterday); it was a perfectly normal card, with his address and contact number on it. The card was monogrammed too, "SW". Funny, he'd said his name was Mike.
I stuffed the card back in my pocket, and headed towards the exit. Jan would be here in a few minutes.
Sure enough, she was there exactly when she said she'd be there. To the second.
On the car ride over, Jan reminded me about the drugs run. I'd completely forgotten about it, and couldn't think of a way to get out of it. Spending time with dad was out of the question. Visiting hours weren't usually midnight to one am. She said it'd be good to get my mind off of his trouble, and convinced me to go with them. After all, she said, a little bit of adventure never hurt anyone. Especially an invulnerable someone.
Oh ok, she convinced me in one sentence:
"Floyd said Sarah can't make it, so he'll be all ours!"
Even an invulnerable someone can be shallow and petty.
************************************************** ************
"This is the place?"
Janice was less than impressed with our rendezvous point; and I agreed with her. We were standing outside a run down warehouse in the middle of Brickstown, in the middle of the night.
"What were you expecting? A nice cosy hotel room in Founder's?"
Floyd was excited, and when he gets excited, he gets sarcastic.
"No. Just, not...this is the place?"
Ralph giggled. Doc remained silent. Floyd stared at us defiantly. I was shaking a little, not from the cold, but with fear. This really didn't look safe, and my dad would kill me if he knew where I was. Janice sighed and prepared to teleport us in.
She's teleported us loads of times, so I prepared myself for the loud pop and crushed ear drums. I barely noticed it anymore.
Once inside, we explored a little. The place was a dump. Boxes everywhere.
"Cool!" Ralph had found a cabinet full of helmets, "How'd I look?"
He turned to us sporting a very unflattering riot helmet, which made his nose look even flatter and wider than normal. The rest of us, except Doc, laughed.
"Aha." Floyd.
"What?" That was the first thing Doc has said all night. It was actually pretty talkative for him.
"Gotcha."
We all headed over to where Floyd was crouched down on the floor, rifling through what seemed to be an empty box. From the emptiness, he pulled out a small see-through bag, full of pills. Superadine.
"What? We're not meeting the dealer?" Ralph had removed the helmet, and was bent down next to Floyd, examining the packet.
"Nah. He said he'd leave the gear here, and told me to put the money in the box. Doesn't want his face to be seen."
"That makes sense," Jan replied, and also bent down on the other side of Floyd. One hand resting on his knee for balance. Yeah, right.
"Whatever," muttered Doc, as he went to stand by the door, ready to be teleported out again.
Only I seemed to be worried. "Guys, don't you think we should leave the money and go? I don't like this place, and if dad knew..."
Floyd stared up at me, and snapped, "[censored] hell, Animal. Anyone would think you were scared. We'll leave when I say so. Just keep watch."
I wanted to be angry with him; I wanted to force him out of the warehouse. But I couldn't. I knew he wanted to test the stuff first, I knew I'd never catch him, and I knew I was hopelessly in love with him. Pleading with Janice wouldn't have done any good. She was just as eager to try the gear as Floyd was. Doc hardly ever spoke to me, and Ralph didn't make sense at the best of times. So I stood, and I waited. I could hold my own in a fight, easy, but I wasn't prepared to fight my friends.
"Get the packet open!" Janice was an addict through and through. Just the smell of Superadine could send her into a frenzy.
"Give me some space then, doll. I'll have it open in just a-- what was that?"
We'd all turned to the door of the building. A large banging noise and some muffled voices could be heard on the other side. Everyone froze. The banging got louder, and the voices more pronounced.
"Janice," Floyd whispered, holding the packet of drugs loosely in his hands now, "Get ready to teleport every--"
It was over in seconds.
The door flew open, Janice screamed. I turned to see Ralph lying bloody and unconscious on the floor. I called to Doc, but Doc was in no position to help. His head had been blown clean off. I think I screamed.
As I watched my friends die, I heard a harsh female voice scream, "Bring me the girl." I blacked out.
************************************************** ************
They had all gone. All of them. My best friends. The Crey had murdered them all in cold blood, just to get to me.
I spent five years in a stasis tube, reliving that night, over and over again. If only my dad hadn't had that heart attack, if only I'd convinced Jan to stay at home that night. If only Floyd hadn't been so desperate to try the stuff. If only. If only.
I escaped from The Crey's clutches six months after they released me from the tube. They turned me into a fighter. For what purpose, I'll never know. I have claws now, and I'm using them to fight for the city, rather than against it.
I remember the night I escaped:
I ran for miles, not knowing which direction I was headed in, when I came to my old house. The house I'd spent so many lovely years in with my father. He died, I don't know when, I was presumed dead the night I disappeared, so had to search through library records to find any information on my father. I found his death certificate, but there was no date. So many people died in Paragon every day, that the authorities didn't see any reason to record the exact date anymore.
The certificate stated he died of old age. I know he died of a broken heart.
I entered my old home, easily picking the lock with my claws. Everything was different now. Even the fireplace, a prime resting place for my shoes, was gone. I left as silently as I had arrived. Careful not to wake the new owners.
I felt alone and helpless, and knew it was time.
There was one thing I'd kept with me during all those lonely years, and I still had it on me now. A small, crumpled card. Greasy fingerprints smeared over it, leaving the text smudged but still readable.
I followed the directions to Dark Astoria, and arrived at the stated door.
Before I even had a chance to knock, the door opened and I was greeted by a pair of blue eyes.
"You're late, Jemima." He said, not unkindly.
I paused. Took a deep breath, and replied.
"My name. Is Stasis."
************************************************** ************
The alarm clock buzzed, so I threw my hand out to silence it. Too late though, my companion was already awake. With a sleepy yawn, he stretched his arm over me and hugged me tight.
"Breakfast?" He asked, smiling up at me.
"Sure. Whaddya fancy?"
After a short pause he said, "How about pistachio ice cream?" A knowing twinkle in his kind blue eyes.
Everything happens for a reason, right? Yeah. I guess it does.