Afterburn

Posted on Mon Apr 28th, 2025 @ 13:32 by Jonathan Monroe & Rebecca McMillen

Chapter: Besieged
Location: Avalon Institute
Timeline: Very late evening, Wednesday, February 10th, 1993
993 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

With the dust and ash settling, Jonathan found himself on his knees, cradling Rebecca's prone form. Her clothing had been damaged, and he could see and smell a little of her hair had been singed. Thankfully, at least for his own sense of guilt, that was the worst of it. She was fortunate.

"Rebecca?" he asked softly, his skin now cooled enough to try to lift her head slightly. "Hey. You okay?"

Perhaps the worst part was the wince. A momentary recoil from the source of pain. She didn't flinch away again as he cradled her head. "I.. I think. Might stop by and get someone to give me a once over. A.. are you alright?" She knew what was either already bothering him, or was about to. She appreciated that he put concern over anger. At least now...

"Still alive," he answered, as though it were a possibility that he might not have been. "Which I suppose means we're the lucky ones." He glanced down, noting the very slightly charred clothing she wore; thanks to him she would certainly need a wardrobe change. "Sorry about, uh..." he waved a hand over the damage.

"No no, I'm sorry." she closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I hit you with a CHAIR! I... I'm so so sorry I.." deep breath, "I just... She... and you.. and she.." she blabbered for a bit, everything coming out all at once. The revelation that her little sister was a mutant, considering her home... she shook her head again, lost in the turmoil between the sister she literally looked up to for the last half of her life... and her friends here. All they fought for, all they lost. All at the hands of whoever was pulling the strings of her sister.

"You must hate me. I'm ... I'm sorry for everything. I just couldn't let you hurt her." a pause, "You don't have to worry about me. I'll... I'll be alright." Burns healed, or did they fade? Her clothing burned and singed, her hair burnt at the tips, her skin singed and burned... her heart broken.

"Hate you? No...no..." Jonathan blurted, almost offended at the thought. "Though the chair and I might have to have a few words later," he added with a hint of good-natured levity to break the tension. A pause hung in the air as they both seemed to need a moment to catch their respective breaths. "So, I guess the obvious question is how your sister ended up working for the GOU...?"

Rebecca was silent for a bit, a soft smile on her features at the poke of humor. "I guess I owe someone a chair." she continued the joke, though was silent after that. Not out of shame or loss, but in thought. "I... I don't think it's just her in there." she paused. "But... when I was younger and first began to ... when I ... When I got my tail." she started, realizing how uncomfortable she was with all of the standard ways of coming out as a mutant.

"When I got my tail, my sisters were monsters to me. My folks were very human first thinking, so that passed onto them. They'd tug my tail, they'd laugh at my feet, but the first time I shrank the two of them got a new doll. My older sister would carry me around in her pocket. Jillian would keep me in a dollhouse. When I had all I could stand of that family, I left. Learned how to survive out in the world, had a lot of help from the rats of London." a look, "And no, they do not have accents." she said with a smirk.

"But I guess Lillian was due to emerge, and without me there she was the family's target for ridicule." and the notion that the 'little' girl that tormented her would have gone through what she went through... alone... turned Rebecca's mood from "Approaching Jovial" to "Approaching Sad" and she wiped at her eyes a bit.

"I'm...sorry." While empathetic, Jonathan did feel as though her tale mirrored his own in many ways - and the stories of so many others like them. A sadly not-uncommon tragedy. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but how did she wound up a government-controlled assassin?" he wondered aloud. "It's one thing to pull on a tail, but what we just witnessed was a lot more than that."

"I... I dunno." She said softly, defeated. "It didn't feel like her, until she called my name." she didn't want to speculate too hard. Effigy was a murderer. Jillian wasn't. That was as clear to the mousey blonde as anything. However, it was the thinnest hope to hold onto, as she didn't want to imagine if she was wrong.

"Let's .... let's get out of here. I don't want to do anything here, you're not supposed to touch a crime scene." That she saw on television.

He nodded quickly and helped her to her feet - another somewhat rare act for him to actually help pick her up, but the chivalrous part of him overrode caution given his guilt at having been the cause. "I'm not entirely sure it qualifies, but I guess the principle is the same," he muttered. "We should get someone to take a look at you, as well. And some new clothes, I guess."

With a little assistance she rose to her feet, a meek nod as she found her balance. Her tail thwip thwipped behind her to help stabilize. "Yeah. I... I'm not sure either but ... we should really tell someone what's going on." She offered as she looked around. She held her arms around her, making herself figuratively smaller as opposed to literally. He was right, she needed a new pair of clothes. "Let's get outta here." Rebecca came to the conclusion that it was time for the Tough to get going, as it were.