A Wish For Both Of Them


gillian_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif

Scene Title A Wish For Both Of Them
Synopsis Kaylee finds Gillian cleaning up the kids dorm, instead of resting, with the thoughts of an unborn son on her mind.
Date March 31, 2011

Bannerman's Castle: Living Quarters

It's the last place that Gillian wants to be. Two bags lays open at the end of a bed in a now empty room, and she moves about picking up clothing and toys and pushing them into the bag. When Eric and Lucy died, she'd been too sick to clean up their things— the belongings just got divided up between the other kids of the island, but Mala…

Clothing is folded and placed in one bag, intended to be donated to the others, while toys are placed in another one. A small pile sits in between. Pictures, a tacky beaded necklace, a M&M T-Shirt from Las Vegas and a Christmas Stocking and a couple small Ornaments. Those she won't divide up among the other kids. Those…

Emotional turmoil has never been particularly good for her. In the last four years since she discovered her ability, she's learned to wrap it up and cut off the flow of energy— now, she's not even attempting to. Perhaps she's just happy to have her ability back in the first place, but as soon as anyone Evolved gets within thirty feet, extra energy can be felt— and the closer they get, the stronger it feels.

The children shouldn't have died. Especially not that one.

It's the suddenly burst of noise in Kaylee's head that as her pausing outside the infirmary door, Gillian's ability having sent her telepathy up that a few notches. She presses her hand to her head for a moment, letting her mind get use to the extra noise.

The murmuring voices of the castle assault her from every angle, even as she changes course to the quarters that the children shared. There is a nervous swallow before Kaylee pushes the door open and slips into the area.

"Gillian?" Spotting the other woman, almost immediately. "Hey…" Kaylee murmurs in a soft greeting, eyes drifting to the various beds, trying very hard not to think of the tiny bodies that has been laid low with infection in the Infirmary. It's also taking a lot to try not to think too hard of the kids lost. "Need any help?" She asks it cautiously.

None of the children are present. The healthy ones had been carted off the night after the sickness spred, and some of the recently healthy ones have gone to join them— but even the ones still in the castle, and still alive, are in the non-virus infirmary. Recovering.

Some of the people in charge might insist Gillian be there as well, but her out of control ability wasn't helping things there— and she was too stubborn to stay longer than she needed.

"No… No, I don't need any help," she says quietly, her thoughts stuck entirely on the recent loss, and how she blames herself. A year ago her thoughts would have been very different. How things change… She finally does look over, expression as shattered as her control, but she certainly looks healthier than she was recently. "Thanks, but…" She wants to handle it— as much of it as possible. However… she bites down on her lip and then says, "I'm pretty much done, but… you can help me by taking these to… whoever is in charge of most the kids here."

Is Gillian's expression that seems to wipe away any nervousness she has, Kaylee's expression softens. It's not pity, but understanding and sadness. "Of course," she says as if the other woman doesn't even need to ask. The telepath moves in deeper into the room, eyes on Mala's things. Teeth have to bite her lower lip for a moment.

When she looks up again, her eyes seem to shine a bit more. "You know… one of the first things I thought… was how sad it was that Emily wouldn't remember. She really liked her." Kaylee smiles, it's hard to make it stay long. "I'm glad to see you are okay, I know… I know it means nothing when…" Her voice catches and she takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Still I'm glad you are better."

"Then we'll just have to make sure she does remember her," Gillian says quietly, touching one of the personal items that she lays aside, a puppet of a dragon that reminds her of the dream she had the night the young girl died. The Princess who slew a dragon— and died in the process.

The thoughts are louder than she might want them to be, but she doesn't really even think about that. The extra energy makes it hard to block them out for the telepath.

"Yeah, I'm better. I shouldn't be, but here I am," she adds in a bitter tone, as she pushes the dragon down next to the M&M shirt from Vegas.

"I agree." Kaylee does. "It was her first friend." Slowly closing the distance, the blonde studies the younger woman and then looks down into the box of Mala's thing.

She almost seems helpless and uncertain on how approach her, so… a hand reaches out so that fingers gently touch the other woman's arm. A tentative gesture. "It's totally unfair what happened to those kids. I find myself constantly asking God why… " Kaylee can't shield the emotions from her voice. She's done so much crying over the kids. "But you need to be better. The other kids need you around. You're like a mother to the older ones."

"We'll have to tell her stories about her— happy ones, until she's older," Gillian says quietly, voice absent sounding, because her thoughts are elsewhere. Far off elsewhere. The mention of being a mother to the older ones trails her thoughts to the mother she might have been, the mother she should have been…

My dreams tell me I still want to be a mother to him… To Nate.

Her hand stills on one of the toys she's waiting to decide on, a stuffed bear that's worn and generic. With a shake of her head, she shoves it into the give away bag. "I think I'm more of a big sister to them," she says outloud. Despite her mind saying something different.

"Dreams? Nate?" Kaylee says out loud without meaning too. A hand is held up in apology. "I'm sorry… I - " She huffs softly and just says, "You are not the only one with dreams, though most don't want to see them come true. Dreams of a dark future that may or may not happen. I had one last night… So have others. Joseph… Quinn… I just…" The words fail the telepath here, so she goes quiet for a long moment.

"I'm sorry I over heard… It's hard not to hear it when I'm amp'd up like this." Fingers rub against her temple, with a small sheepish smile from Kaylee. "People are having dreams all over… I've documented nine dreams, so far, dreamt by many more… and I don't think it's the last of it. The more I hear… the more I think this is a true future.

"Someone is trying to tell us something."

My son, Gillian's mind screams even despite the warnings. She's making no attempt to stop doing this, even when she's told outright that she's practically forcing the other woman to read her mind. I can't contain it right now. is the only thought about it. Part of her knows she should hate it, she should tell the woman to leave…

But she doesn't even think it too hard. It doesn't matter. Cause the woman is telling her the dreams might be a true future. Might be something someone is using to send a message.

Abby said that, she thinks at first, before her mind suddenly dissolves into curses. And her mind repeats what she says outloud. For once, she's completely transparent.

"Fucking futures," she growls, picking up one of the toys from the cast away bag and suddenly throwing it across the room against the wall. Like she's casting a stone at something unseen, rather than a plush animal. "Who gives anyone the fucking right to do that? Did they ever think that I might not want to know? That— god damnit. I already lost him once and now I'm just going to lose him again and all I'll ever have of him is a fucking dream! How dare someone do this to me again? I fucking hate them."

There's tears in her eyes, eyes that suddenly seem to have a glow to them. There's a glow to her skin, too. The words bring an image, of a boy of around eight, with dark hair and eyes, and tears streaming down a wide-eyed face.

There is a grimace at the mental shouts, but Kaylee doesn't stop her, endures them really. Eyes close as she lets Gillian rant, know the woman needs. Understands, in some ways. A part of her listens closely to the internal screams. Flashes and images of a child, knowing that Gillian wants this child.

Lashes are wet with tears, when she opens them and blinks. "I'm trying to find out why someone one is doing this." Kaylee says softly in a lull of Gillian's… tantrum. "I'm — I'm not my father, but I'm trying.

"Just like you don't want to lose Nate, I don't want to lose Joseph. Or watch his daughter cry over his body." Kaylee brushes at tears on her cheeks. "I haven't seen any kids in my future, but I was married to Joseph." Fingers roll around where a ring once sat and may hopefully again someday. "So I can't fully understand that feeling. That future is horrible. A total war. People required to have licenses to have kids. Robots all over. Our kind living in filthy ghetto's. Woman raped by soldiers… New York in ruins."

Kaylee takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Of course, even with all that… all I can think is I don't want to stand over that pine box giving his eulogy while his then teenage daughter cries."

"Lucky you," Gillian says outloud, voice as bitter as her thoughts, even if she flinches with guilt a moment later. Jealousy that the woman even had a husband to give a funeral for? Perhaps— I had to raise him alone in that dream. Just like I deserve. The second thought has a guilty tinge, and the purple fades from her eyes as she turns away and tries to find the teddy bear.

The added distance lessens the augmentationa little, but it doesn't take it away entirely, still makes the thoughts hard to push out. "Just seeing it means it's already different anyway," she says in soft tones, speaking from experience. "We're probably just seeing echoes or whatever's left. This isn't the first time I've dreamed of a destroyed future." Even if the first dream was entirely different.

The teddy bear is picked up, moved back to the bag. Don't even know who the father was— Peter? As soon as she thinks that, she suddenly looks back at the blonde, and then starts trying to think of something else. Think of the knot that would keep her ability in check…

It slips out of her grasp even before she gets it…

"I should go. I need to find a part of the castle that's far enough away from everyone." Anyone with an ability.

When Gillian glances back, Kaylee's expression is fairly mild, only a tipping up of a brow. Peter is one of those things that has passed on for the telepath. Five years has mellowed out the harshness of it all. She just gives the other woman a soft smile.

"Before you go, Gillian." Kaylee isn't going to stop her, it's not her place. But she also can't let the woman leave feeling as she is. "I would like to point out something I noticed. you've learned of him twice now. Two different futures." she bites her lip for a moment before she says, "I wouldn't count out Nate, yet… it sounds like he really wants to be born." It's meant to be comforting she can only hope it is.

Five years for one woman isn't nearly the same length of time for the other. Not just because time travel isn't involved. Gillian wasn't the one he'd actually been with, after all. Ever. As she gets ready to go— or flee more like, the dark haired woman pauses near the door, looking away at the words that are trying to be comforting.

Or perhaps reassuring is the better word.

"Or it could be I just named a kid after him and raised him as my own," she says quietly, though her thoughts betray her. She wants that to be true… But it hurts her to hope for at the same time. "I just think it's better to not know… To not know what the future might hold, cause it hurts when it's what you want, and then something happens to make it not— I hope you don't have the same thing happen to you," she adds after a moment, before she getins to walk out. Even as she goes, a thought echos.

I hope you can get the parts you want, while stopping the parts you don't.

It's a wish that could be true for the both of them, really.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License