Log [Alison, Cain] Things great and small...

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Heading out for a mid-morning jog around the lake, Alison gets distracted by the sounds of Cain being soundly defeated in combat by a few pieces of wood. An endearing discovery follows, along with small talk about things mundane and things not so small at all.



Cain frowned, holding the dowel in his hand and trying to match it up with the proper drill bit. While carpentry was his forte, this fine detail crap was starting to get old. Not to mention that he'd already split three slats trying to drill a series of offset holes. Old wood did that. Tended to resist change, but once you put it all together, nothing held up to wear and tear as well.

"I swear, woman, if you don't sit down and use this once I'm done," he said to no one in particular, his voice bouncing off the walls of the woodshed, "I'm chucking you in the lake, baby or no baby."

The mutters from the workshed had been intriguing to say the least, and though normally Alison would have merrily continued on her way to the jogging paths, the mention of the lake which had filtered through clearly was enough to cause her to swerve from her original destination. Poking her head through the open doorway, she stared in bemusement at the several pieces strewn about the place. "Hi! Wha... whuzzat?"

Cain attempted to turn around and hide the wood behind his back quickly, but realized most of the parts were completely spread across the makeshift workshop. "Oh, this. Um, 's a... trying to make a rocking chair. For Moira, y'know. When the baby - the NEXT one - comes. Damn wood's being difficult."

Alison stared at him for a moment, blinking at the look akin to that of a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar and the brief, utterly doomed attempt to hide the pieces of chair behind his back unsuccessfully. "A rocking chair?" Somehow, she did not coo. Or tell him how cute that was. Barely. Instead she cocked her head to the side, lips quirking. "Who's winning?"

"Damn dry maple," Cain brandished one of the curved slats. "It's solid stuff, and when you put it all together, it'll give just enough to support, but stay sturdy enough to be strong. Trouble is, it don't want to bend enough to go together without drilling it, and drilling either splits it or warps it." He frowned. "Quakers used to do it with a wood planer and tapper. Also used to take 'em two weeks at a time. I ain't that patient."

Oh, she could just see it coming. Alison eyed the slats, which had a disturbing similarity to the metal plates Haroun had made her laser just so for an entire day the last time she'd helped with the Blackbird. Fact which gave Scott that look now each time the mention of a complete refit of the 'bird came up and caused Alison to flee the room at high speeds. "Wood planer and tapper, huh?" She was sealing her own doom by not running for it now. She just knew it.

"Yeah," Cain murmured, nodding at two dusty tools on the shelf. "I've already planed the wood, a tapper just takes out small chunks at a time to make a neat hole and wait just a minute..." He looked at Alison and a smile started to form. "You can shave with those lasers, I know. Think you can drill?"

Of all the things he'd thought of, shaving was it? Alison slowly leaned her head forward, resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. "Self-shaving. That's what the world will remember me for." Laughter pierced through briefly. "I can drill. If you promise not to tell Scott. He and Haroun already have plans to use me as a precision laser for the Blackbird's refit. They've been plotting and think I don't know it." She eyed the wood pensively, suspecting they might encounter one problem in particular fast enough.

Cain smiled, practically reading Alison's mind. "I need quarter-inch holes, here..." he pointed out the pencil marks on the slat, "half-inch here. Here's the funny thing about dry maple - it's the only wood where the flashpoint goes up when it dries. Long as you don't try sticking it in open flame, you can use it for a fire poker. So you don't have to worry about setting the place on fire." He sat down and braced the slat against his large thigh, pencil markings out. "Just don't tell no one I've been using myself as a work bench. Setting a bad example and all." He winked at Alison quickly. "Since I've been such a model citizen and all."

A quiet snort greeted that, considering what Cain was working on as a side project too, no less. "And making a rocking chair will just reinforce what a good example you are, too." Eyeing the wood contemplatively, Alison had to admit she was curious what the final look would be like. "Ok, no setting anything on fire is good. You need those at angles or not? And actually, I'll hold that on my own lap for the lasering, mm?" She was wearing jogging shorts, which meant no holes to burn through clothing and she could take care to aim at herself at all times just in case she extended the lasers to much. "It'll be easier for a quick punch through and safer for the worktable and- Actually? Got a spare bit I can test on first?" She'd had to do that several times while working the metal. Maybe she should throw Lorna at Scott and claim it was a powers practice thing for her, though Alison had a sinking feeling that wouldn't work.

Tossing her a blank piece of wood, Cain arched an eyebrow. He'd forgotten Alison's newfound immunity to her own powers. Thinking on that brought a sympathetic pain in the center of his chest, his hand brushing the thick knot of scar tissue unconsciously. "Fire away. No pun intended."

"That's what people always say about puns." Alison grinned a b it at that, having caught the piece of wood. She pondered the beset way to go about things while seeing what she was doing properly, then finally decided to simply sit down, resting one edge of the plank on the floor and bracing it that way for the first go at things. It allowed her to have a general look at the width of the wood and either side to calculate angles as need be. One hand in place on one side to use it to block the laser if need be, Alison tapped one fingertip on the wood, and then went for speed, lasering a hole through it in an instant – while making sure to blow any of the resulting smoke away from her if need be so as to not choke on the bitter smell of charred wood.

Cain held up the thin slat. "Nice," he murmured, taking a close look. "No burrs, perfect size..." he slid the dowel into the wood, watching as it fit perfectly. "Ready to do some real work now? You don't even have to get dirty." He let a wry smile slip through. "Less you want to, that is."

That earned him a suspicious look. "Wait. Haroun promised he wouldn't tell about the-" Alison stopped at that, shutting her mouth slowly. "Nothing. Never mind. Didn't say a thing. Be happy to help!" She'd never been one for manual work, but she had to admit there was a sort of satisfaction in seeing things progress. And the final result of one's work. Cans of oil jumping up and attacking you from the shadows was less fun, but she should be safe from those in the workshed, or so she hoped.

Coughing into his hand, Cain turned around to start arranging the pieces to the rocking chair. "If that's privileged team information, let me throw my resignation in now, thank you," he blurted, handing Alison a stack of slats. "Wood."

"..." The stack of slats was accepted with a blank look, before pure dismay crossed her features. "Augh! No! You!" One of the slats nearly went right back to sender the fast and flung way. "Oil! Can of oil! Ambushed me while I was helping laser stuff to side for the Blackbird! Gyah!" Taking a deep breath, Alison snickered suddenly and started laying out the slats in front of herself before picking up the first one to laser, eyeing the marks on either side. "I do not want to know what you thought."

"No, y'probably don't," Cain muttered, then chuckled to himself. "Though I notice Haroun's maintenance hours tend to take longer now he's got himself an assistant. Was going to ask Summers about that..."

It was such a good thing to be able to not let everything slip and gape at someone every now and then. Giving him a haughty look while lasering in the first hole, light simmering in the palm of her hand on the other side of the slat briefly, Alison huffed. "When you're teaching someone the ropes, it always takes a bit more time to get things done, I'll have you know."

"Ropes? Someone's been hanging around with Betsy too long, it seems." Cain gave his best disarming smile. "Oh, what the tabloids would say now."

"Pbhhhht!" It was cheerful as such responses went, Alison narrowing her eyes a bit in concentration as light brightly punched another hole through the slat. She then handed him the slat. "They'd say zip. I'm not interesting gossip fodder anymore." The next slat was picked up with a touch too deliberately and the next series of holes done in silent concentration. Double checking the marks he'd made, Alison widened one of them slightly before nudging the piece of wood in his direction.

Deftly, Cain began fitting the dowels into the slats, the form of a rocking chair slowly beginning to take place. "Oh, I don't know about that," he commented idly. "Sure, you haven't had a hit on the charts in four years, but hell, people still know who you are. Was reading that record sales of your old stuff went up after that CNN special a year ago, almost broke the top 100 again. Ever thought about going back to it?"

Brief flashes of light and the smell of burnt wood was her only response for a moment, three more slats prepared with increasing surety, Alison apparently entirely focused on her work. "I think about it every day. Every time I practice, every time I teach Terry." She held the slat she'd just prepared, looking at it pensively. "It's not as clear cut a choice now as it would have been say, even a year and a half ago." She shook her head a bit sheepishly. "In fact, the choice is made, really. Every day. But I won't ever give up on it. Not that. Just... work around it. Somehow." She set the slat down and picked up another one. Not everything, she reminded herself, smiling a bit, was about absolutes anymore. Cain didn't need to know that just yet, though.

"Makes me realize how easy I've got it, y'know?" Cain quipped. "Everything I ever need or want is right here. Simple, uncomplicated. The team stuff? Just what I ought to be doing. Ain't a crusade like it is for Summers or a validation thing like it is for Shiro. But other than that?" He set the completed bottom of the chair on the work bench, appraising it. "This is all I really need out of life."

"Mmm." Still working over the remaining slats, Alison nodded slowly, unaware of the small sigh that escaped her. "It should be enough, what I have here. I stopped trying to convince myself of that, though. I still do want some of what I had before back." Just some would do. "But that's okay." And she grinned, lasers working through the wood with a merry weave of light to them all of a sudden. "Things can always happen when you least expect it." And that, she decided, was hinting too much. "The Got Milk campaign people contacted me a while ago."

"I can see it now," Cain murmured, sweeping his hand dramatically. "When getting tossed around by mutant supervillains or being eaten by a dragon in Asgard, I need my strong bones..."

Laughter answered that, Alison pausing in her work until the giggles had mostly died down, which took a fair bit of doing as new variations on that theme crossed her mind. "When chasing down evil in the sewers or dealing with super powered bank robbers, I still need strong bones..." It has been Storm's mission sure, but it still made for a great line. Finishing up the last slat while it was still safe, she then presented it to Cain. "I have no clue what they want to use as a tagline yet, actually."

"Glad I ain't a celebrity, then," the big man responded. "How exactly do you sell that one? 'Just because I've got molecules of a mystic invulnerable crystal that once housed a god bonded into my DNA, I still need my calcium...'?" He frowned, thinking. "Of course, I don't, come to think of it. Last checkup, Moira figured out I could probably get by on Cheetos and soda pop if I was so inclined. Body won't break
down regardless. Found out the other day that the hair dye thing they're planning for Miles?" he tapped his skin for emphasis, "don't work. Won't penetrate even a tiny bit into my skin or hair. Funny thing, that."

The rest of his words had gone unnoticed as the neat hole Alison had been lasering in the last slat turned into an odd squiggly shape, the laser dancing in the palm of her hand before fading. "Wait. Wait, go back a bit there. A god?" The slat tilted to the side as her grip on it slackened. "That's what the screaming angry was about? That's I was hearing when I had those shards in my skin? A god?! As in being of ginormous power and all?" Categorizing it along the lines of Loki and company, while still scary, was at least safe somehow.

Cain nodded, realizing just what he'd said. "Uh, yeah. Amanda's teacher came by when I was laid up, told me all about it. Ancient god of destruction and rage or something like that. Ain't really an issue anymore. I kicked his butt, end of problem."

"Um, yeah?!" That's all he had to say for himself? Alison blinked and took a deep breath, then handed him the mangled slat. "Spare please." And took another deep breath. "Right. Ancient symbol of the Grr. Got it." She paused, then eyed him suspiciously. "Was he short and furry and all with the growly stuff?"

"Nah, more like..." Cain paused, trying to remember in his brain what had gone on. There had been Charles, and he remembered fighting, and ... "Ain't rightly sure. Angie drew him once, though."

"Huh. Right. Maybe I'll go check in the database we've got going for her then." Alison had no doubt Marie-Ange had added the drawing to it. The girl was determinedly meticulous about archiving everything she thought might be related to her ability. "Do you mind if I talk to Charles about this a bit at one point? Cause, yeah. That. And huh. We're out of slats." Looking around a bit, Alison then raised an eyebrow. "Got anything else that needs to be done." She was pointedly not looking at the chair yet, wanting to see the final result only.

"Ain't Chuck's problem," Cain said firmly, voice raised a little louder than intended. He held up two curved pieces. "Grooves here to here. About half inch wide, quarter deep?" Pausing as he handed over the wood, he shook his head. "Look, if it's a team thing - both Moira and Doc Bartlet say I'm a hundred percent, brain and body. Nothing to worry about."

She accepted the pieces and started to laser in the grooves, this time laying the wood flat on her lap to work. "I figured the medstaff would have strapped you down with a mountain to keep you there if need be if you weren't. But that's not what I meant. It's a me thing. As in, hey, base archetype or the Grr in head for a while, would like to talk to someone for a reality check sometimes and all. If not Charles... then can I talk to Strange? He's the one who explained it to you anyway, right?" she asked, handing him one of the curved pieces back. Then double-checked it to be sure before releasing her grasp.

Thinking about it, Cain nodded. "He's discreet, Amanda said. I respect that. I ain't big on people snoopin' around inside my head, but... well, you saw." He looked down at the floor briefly, kicking a small pile of sawdust. "I ain't really sure what's been different in my head since then, but I know something is. And I know he's probably got the answers. I just ain't too keen on knowing, is all. Don't see the point in it. But if you want to, hey, knock yourself out."

"I mostly want to make sure I'm not stir-crazy. I won't pry on the rest. Though I have to admit, while I've only spoken to him once or twice, he seems to have that 'pick a topic and start going on and on' thing pretty deeply entrenched." She didn't tell him she had the occasional dream, drenched in red. Those were nearly gone now anyway. "Hush. No jokes about my sanity, now." And then she handed him the last piece of wood, grinning a bit, in an effort to distract him. "So. This looks like it's the last one, huh?"

Cain had most of the chair assembled, save for the top part holding the back together. "Yeah," he announced with a nod, slotting it into place. A couple of light hammer-taps with his fingertip, and the entire piece was in place. Setting the completed rocking chair on the floor, he motioned to it. "Try it out, see how comfortable it is."

Finally looking at it properly for the first time, Alison blinked. It was done. What had been pieces of wood strewn about, needing only to be put together to create something now was. "Huh. It's pretty." And it was, obvious care having been taken to how the grain of the wood merged and meshed from piece to piece. Rising to her feet and brushing what little wood dust she'd picked up while sitting down, Alison inspected it for a moment longer before finally settling down in it. And then gave it a tentative rock, because that's what you did with a rocking chair.

"We do good work," Cain said with a grin, resting his hand on the back of the chair. "If you ever decide to give up the life of a superhero rock star, carpenter's assistant might not be a bad career path."

"We do indeed." It was a very nice chair. Alison patted one of the curved arm rests lightly, not sure if she belonged on it or not. Then dismissed the notion, not quite sure what had prompted it and looked at Cain, returning his grin. "I just laser stuff up when and how I'm told, you put it all together? Cause I have no clue how all those pieces of wood turned into a chair. Couldn't do this." She chuckled, pushing a bit with her feet to cause the chair to rock a bit more."Though you'd probably have to fight Haroun and Scott over the whole lasering parts up for the Blackbird!"

"You're in a lot of demand," Cain added with a wink, "I wouldn't dream of keeping you from your responsibilities. But I will tell you to get your butt up so's I can put this somewhere before I bring it to Moira."

"Tbhhhht!" Rising to her feet, Alison poked him in the forearm lightly. "Time spent with friends is high up on my list of things to do." And, she had to admit to herself, it had been nice not to be rushed to go anywhere and just be able to stop and do this. "Hrm. You thought of making a rocking horse next, for when the baby is older? Though I guess it'd be a challenge to make one of those with only dowels..."

"One project at a time," Cain smiled, eyes darting subtly up to the child-sized rocking horse in the rafters. "Only question is what color to paint it."

Not having noticed, Alison didn't look up, though she did lend his predicament some thought. "Well. You could always just go for the colors on her family tartan, no? It's a kid's rocking horse. Doesn't have to be the usual colors," she continued serenely. "I'm kinda partial to green myself." She winked at him at that, then headed towards the door. "And still due for a jog! I'll let you hide that chair and see you later, mm?" She waved at him in farewell before closing the door gently, leaving him with the rocking chair and the as of yet unpainted child's rocking horse, safely ensconced in the rafters.