Amara and Nathan: A Noisy Afternoon (backdated)

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Backdated. Yesterday afternoon, after the singing comes the rage.


Amara was far from the mansion, the lake lapping near her feet, and she was yelling. Screaming, really. And throwing any stone that came readily to hand. And if when she picked them up, they melted into handfuls of molten material and hissed when they landed in the water, she didn't notice. And if she was also in her molten form, well, she didn't much care. Because she was screaming and throwing things and finally, completely, and wholly pissed.

"Fucking bastards! Fuck you and your goddess! I hope you all die! I hope you suffer every minute for the rest of your pathetic little lives! I hope you lose all of your loved ones! I hope you're alone for eternity, alone and cold and suffering until you die and it will be painful and horrible because you don't deserve better!" Amara continued lobbing balls of magma into the lake, her tears evaporating even before they left her eyes.

His telepathy was still very much not back. He did not, however, need his telepathy to hear a screaming teenager venting her rage at the lake just down the shore from the boathouse. Nathan had even been inside when he'd heard her, and had ambled out to take a look. Amara, his mind supplied as he saw the glowing girl. The one with whom he was supposed to have lunch sometime soon. And she did not appear to be in a good mood at all.

An understatement, to say the least, as her body brightened in reaction to her increasing rage. "You ruined my life! You took my mother for your fucking goddess! You bastards killed her and then you almost killed me! You weak, pathetic monsters! Did your mother not love you enough!? Well, I don't even have a mother anymore!" The sandy shore around her feet was beginning to turn to glass.

Well, crap. Nathan stopped prudently just out of range, hoping that Charles was paying attention just in case. "Amara," he called as she paused for breath. "You're melting the beach."

Amara whirled, a molten rock held at the ready. "The beach is expendable. Just like my mother was expendable. Just like I was expendable." She turned and the stone followed the same patch as the previous ones. "We were all expendable to them. Bastards." But somehow, the fight drained out of her. Powers exhaustion, emotional exhaustion. Her molten form receded as she slumped to the ground, hard glass beneath her. "Bastards."

Nathan eyed the glass thoughtfully. "I've turned sand to glass before, myself," he said quietly. "Sand, furniture, all kinds of things when I lose my temper and my telekinesis lashes out uncontrolled..." He placed a foot carefully on the glass, but could feel the heat still. "I remember doing it once just up the shore a little. Raging against someone I thought was trying to destroy my life... I actually exploded a tree of two."

Amara couldn't look up at him, shame and anger and fear mixing in her stomach. She didn't know where those feelings came from, who to direct them at, or how to make them disappear. "I just wanted to feel normal again. Safe. Clean. But the people who destroyed my life aren't here, and I'm tired of feeling helpless." She felt the smooth texture of the glass, her glass, under her hand. "Not so helpless, I guess." And the laugh that followed was very much like a sob.

"No, I think it's fair to say that you will probably never be helpless again." He couldn't tell her definitively that she never would be. After all, he had been helpless, and his powers were probably just as destructive as hers. When they were in working order. "The people we blame for the things that happen to us," Nathan said slowly, still standing where he was at the edge of the glass, "they never are handy when we want them to be. And that's probably a good thing, Amara." It struck him for a moment that here he was, a total stranger trying to give her advice... but to hell with worrying whether or not it was appropriate. He was here. "We have to live with what we do. If I was one of the people who'd hurt you, you could have thrown one of those rocks at me and probably killed me. But how would you have felt once the anger faded?"

"I already did kill some of them, when I manifested. I created a volcano in the cave where they were going to sacrifice us." Amara stared out across the lake, her voice flat as she briefly replayed that night. "They had kidnapped some girls from the village for a sacrifice to their goddess. I manifested during the ritual. People caught in the ensuing cave-in died under rocks or under lava.

"It's hard to feel sorry after that, although I wish all the girls had made it." She choked down another sob and wiped at her eyes. "I just want my life back."

He didn't explain to her the difference between accidental deaths brought about unknowingly, and conscious murder. Nathan stepped cautiously onto the glass, which had cooled with surprising speed, and moved to Amara's side, crouching down.

"This is still your life," he said quietly. "It's just changed, from what you knew."

"It's all out of my control. It feels like this life isn't mine, like it belongs to someone else. I should be at home, playing with Jimena's children, tending my garden, cooking dinner." Amara hunched down into herself. "I don't know who I am anymore."

"It is your life," Nathan repeated, softly but firmly. "You're in a new place. A lot of what you knew and loved is very far away. You're surrounded by strangers-" He didn't even know if she realized she was talking to the man with whom she'd had that bizarre exchange about mold and moss. "-but we won't stay strangers. And there are things here that you can do that will remind you of home if you start to miss it too much. Ororo... Ms. Monroe is always looking for people interested in gardening. There are plenty of opportunities to cook. And if you like children..." He stopped, smiling. "Well. I'm always looking for babysitters."

Amara was beyond caring that she was talking to a stranger. She had reached the end of her rope and Nathan could have been Santa Claus for all it mattered. He was just at the right place at the right time. "I know all of that logically, but my brain sometimes has communication problems with my heart. It would be good to garden, though, get my hand in the ground." She paused, processing his last sentence. "You're Nathan, right? The teacher with the floating daughter?"

Nathan nodded. "I'd be the lucky man with the floating demon-child, yes," he said, smiling. He could still feel some heat from the glass, but it was much less noticeable now. "She's telekinetic. So she'll grow up," he said more gently, "used to the strangeness."

Amara smiled. "Then she is very lucky as well, to have such a caring, compassionate father." A lot like her own father, in fact, and the thought of him constricted her heart. She pushed past the homesickness, saving it for when she was alone. "I would love to watch her sometime. Strangeness in other people never fazed me. It’s only when I became strange that I started having issues."

"Rachel loves nothing quite so much as an audience." Nathan rose - then, after a moment, extended his good hand to her, to help her up. His other arm might be out of the cast, but he was still favoring it. "Come on," he suggested lightly. "I have a much better view of the lake from my deck. And you can meet the munchkin."

Amara accepted Nathan's offer and rose, the glass finally cool. She followed Nathan to the boathouse, fidgeting with her shirt hem. Luckily, her clothes were not affected by her molten form, a fact with she secretly thanked the gods for. She hesitated, then said, "Thank you... for... " Helping me, talking to me, caring about me, a person you've never met, taking time out of your day... "well, being there."

"It's funny. When we moved out of the mansion, I half-expected to be around for fewer moments like this," Nathan mused. "Yet I still seem to have my share. And you're welcome," he said, glancing down at her with a smile. "There's so often so much that we can't do, as staff here... things that have happened that we couldn't change, or stop. Being able to do what we can is important."

"I think it might be proximity to the mansion if you are still exposed to mental breakdowns. You chose a lovely house, though," Amara commented. "It reminds me so much more of home than the mansion." She ran he hand down one of the porch supports, the wood grain smoothed by age and use. "This is a good house. Strong, well-built, well-loved."

"Why don't you have a seat?" Nathan asked, waving a hand at the chairs set out on the deck. "I'll be right back with Ray. And possibly lemonade. Do you like lemonade?"

"Is it made from real lemons?" Amara asked while taking a seat. "Someone, I am not sure who, left lemonade in the refrigerator, but it tasted horrible. And I think it came from a can. I love lemonade as long as it does not come from a can."

"Perish the thought," Nathan said, vanishing into the house. He came back roughly five minutes later holding a tray with two glasses of proper lemonade in one hand - a bit unsteady, as it was the arm that had been broken - and with a blinking red-haired baby tucked under his other arm. Rachel saw Amara and made an interrogative noise, looking up at her father with wide gray eyes.

Amara jumped up to grab the wobbling tray and placed it on a small nearby table. Then she turned back and saw Rachel fully, a bright smile lighting up her face. She knelt down until she was eye-to-eye with the baby and said, "Hello there, pretty one. My name is Amara. You have beautiful eyes."

Rachel made a smug little noise, perceiving that she was indeed being admired, and Nathan chuckled. "This is Rachel," he said, shifting her around in his arms. "You're more than welcome to hold her, but you need to take a firm grip on this tether, here, if you do... I couldn't chase her if she floats off."

"Could I?" Amara reached out her arms and took Rachel from Nathan, holding onto the baby gently but firmly. "Oh you are a pretty one, aren't you?" She laughed when Rachel made the same smug noise. "And you know it." Rocking the baby, tether in hand, Amara made her way back into a deck chair. "So what do you do while your father's working, hmm?"

"Well, she was upstairs minding her manners while her mother took the afternoon off to catch up on some reading... she amused herself to a surprising extent for someone who's only a year old." And that wasn't always a good thing. Nathan lowered himself into the chair next to Amara's and picked up a glass of lemonade, smiling as Rachel cuddled shamelessly. "She likes you."

"Oooo," Rachel agreed softly, reaching up to pluck at Amara's hair.

Amara let Rachel play, used to small hands exploring her tresses. And if she cuddled Rachel just as shamelessly, she hoped Nathan would forgive her. "Well, if you do so well on your own, maybe you won't want to spend time with me." She addressed Rachel directly, using a normal tone of voice. "Baby-talk" mortified Amara. "And I was looking forward to coming over to watch you."

"Bah. Bah!" Rachel said merrily and leaned forward, giving Amara a sloppy baby kiss.

I really, really ought to rent her out as a therapy baby. She's such a natural. "See," Nathan said whimsically, "she does amuse herself. Then she gets bored. You don't want to know what a telekinetic baby does when she's bored."

The girl laughed, but didn't wipe her cheek. She bussed Rachel back, still laughing. "I can imagine the sort of trouble you get into. And I'm sure you get away with it. One look and they all forgive you." Looking up at Nathan, she asked, "Would you let me watch her sometime?"

"Of course. We're always looking for new babysitters... I don't like to even impose on one person for too much," Nathan said amiably. "And she obviously likes you. Which is key."

Amara tickled Rachel lightly. "Well, the feeling is mutual." She wrapped one arm firmly around Rachel and took a sip of her lemonade. Real lemon, real sugar. "And if you promise lemonade this good, you'll have me back in a second."