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A/N: Bonjour! What can I say? I'm in a writing mode. I think it'll last for a while, so it's safe to get your hopes up with this, 'Anything But That,' and my fanfic. Oh, and my junkfood 'Vengence' fic, lol. My soul is a bit battered right now, and writing is terribly therapeutic. Hence, many updates for a while! Yay!
This fic and its plotty weirdness and characters are mine. Enjoy and review!
--May
Chapter Two
Thomas stared down at the menu before him, too exhausted to really see it but trying none-the-less. He knew he needed to eat, but whenever he tried to focus on the subject his stomach would protest with a lurch. Overtired. He had survived the ghastly plain ride, only to die of starvation and exhaustion.
“Hello,” came a high voice. Thomas blinked and looked up. A blonde girl, probably somewhere around eighteen or so, was standing in front of him. She looked at him with what he recognized to be a blatantly seductive gaze, her brown eyes purposely hooded and her lips set in a calculated smile. Her clothes were fashionable and neat, with just a touch of edge to them. She wore a black choker with a red spider on it. His first instinct was to laugh, but no normal twenty-one-year-old would shirk an opportunity such as this, so he wouldn’t either. He smiled back, and it was difficult.
“Hello,” he replied. Yuck. His voice sounded like something that would come from a wizened old busker in the middle of winter. Rough and parched and just possibly in need of alcohol. He didn’t even drink. He cleared his throat in case he would have to speak again. His friends back home had told him that his deadliest weapon when it came to Canadian girls would be his voice. Apparently they liked the accent. He couldn’t blame them. Their speech sounded awful. All hard consonants and rigidity.
“I’m here with a couple of friends of mine, and we couldn’t help but notice that you are stuck here all alone. We wanted to know if you would join us.” The girl gestured to a table behind her. Thomas glanced at it. A petite girl with haughty eyebrows and straight brown hair was turned around in her seat. She waved a well-manicured hand at him. Beside her was another girl, who could well have been a mental patient by the look of it. She was drumming the table with her nails and appeared to be mumbling something under her breath. If he wasn’t mistaken, she was wearing shoes that were actually designed to look like feet. Oddball, his mind warned.
“I don’t think I would be very good company right now.” Never let it be said that lawyers aren’t diplomatic, he thought.
“Come on, let us decide that. You shouldn’t be alone right now, I have a sense about these things. I’m Janet.”
“Thomas,” he supplied. “I’m sorry, but I really couldn’t. By the look of your friends, I’d probably bore you all to death.” No way was he sitting with an oddball. He avoided such people like the plague. In his opinion they were useless, irritating members of society with too much time on their hands. The only good thing he could say for oddballs was that they tended to provide lawyers with a lot of work, most of them being criminals. The girl he was staring at now looked like she’d just robbed a flea market.
“Oh,” Janet laughed. “I see. You’re afraid of Amelia.”
He bristled. “I most certainly am not.”
“I knew it! You didn’t even ask which one Amelia was. You know damn well who I’m talking about. Well, if it makes you feel any better, she tried to talk me out of coming over here.”
“Well, there you go. Even your oddball friend knows that I should stay right where I am.”
He was surprised when Janet let loose with a full-blown laugh. “That seals the deal, right there. You’ve got to come over. Please, you don’t have to talk to her. Just talk to me. And Erin. Erin looks like a nice, safe girl to talk to, doesn’t she?”
“You’re taunting me.”
“Damn right.”
Without a thought, he reached up and twisted the gel, watching with a smug grin as the words “SHAMELESS AND PATHETIC” sewed themselves into her little black shirt. He stood up.
“Alright,” he sighed. “I can see I’m not about to win this one.”
“Again I say, damn right.” She winked and looped her arm through his, tugging him back to her table before he had a chance to change his mind. As they approached, the girl Janet had called Erin smiled and pointed to the seat across from her. Thomas winced. It looked like he was sitting next to Oddball and Janet.
“This seat’s got your name on it,” Erin said with a polite smile. Thomas made the corners of his mouth lift in response, and moved to pull out the chair. He stopped suddenly and raised a brow.
“‘Mr. Anonymous Hot Man in a Business Suit’?” he asked skeptically. A trickle of unease dripped down his spine as Janet and Erin merely nodded happily. Great. They were oddballs too. He wondered if Canadian chairs often had strange things carved into them, or if maybe this was some kind of elaborate setup. Shit, that was just what he needed. A practical joke on his first day in a new country.
“So,” Janet said as he sat down, “like I said, I’m Janet, this is Erin, and that’s Amelia. Girls, this is Thomas, and he’ll be dining with us.” A small sound of distress came from the Oddball’s general direction. Thomas barely suppressed a snort. What right did she have to be uncomfortable in this situation? He was the loner here, trapped amongst Canada’s Next Top Lunatics. They must be the top 3 contenders. At least, he hoped they were the top three. Otherwise. . .well, maybe university wasn’t the greatest idea after all.
Oh well. If you wanted to socialize you had to take the good with the bad, and this was the bad. Something told her that messing with the bubble would be a fruitless endeavour in this case--too much free will involved-- and she was getting hungry. Therefore, the thing to do would be to make the best of dinner, hot guy in a suit or no hot guy in a suit.
Strengthened by her new resolve, she nodded to herself and raised her head to face the man in question. Once again, she was struck by his features. He wasn’t necessarily the most handsome man she had ever seen, although he certainly ranked high on the list. There was something else, something that made it hard for her to hold his gaze. It was an air about him, as if he’d seen things, as if he had secrets he’d never let anyone know.
He sure looked tired, though.
“When was the last time you slept?” Amelia could have slapped herself as Thomas’ ears darkened and Erin began choking on her water.
“Excuse me?” he spluttered. Even spluttering his voice was surprisingly rich. God save her from handsome men with British accents. Still, there was no reason why she shouldn’t press for an answer. It would probably be healthy for him. Therapeutic or something. For all his good looks, he seemed a bit stuffy. She examined him again.
Make that a lot stuffy.
“How long since you’ve slept?” she repeated. He turned his face away, and she furrowed her brow in frustration. It was a simple question, after all. “I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that I know a fellow insomniac when I see one. Call it a sixth sense, if you’d like. I just think you should sleep more.” Janet and Erin were studiously examining their menus, but that didn’t stop Amelia from hearing their poorly stifled laughter. It was nice to have such supportive friends, she thought wryly. Thomas faced her again, leaning back casually in his chair.
“It’s not insomnia. It’s jet-lag. I just arrived from England a couple hours ago.”
“Really?” Erin asked, head tilted to show her interest. “How do you like Canada so far?” Amelia could have killed her for asking, especially when she saw the wry look that crossed over his face. He took a moment to respond.
“It’s got nice cabs,” he replied diplomatically. Despite herself, Amelia felt her lips twitch.
“Are you all ready to order?” A middle-aged woman with a bad perm and even worse dye-job stood patiently by the table, pen poised over notepad. Without really thinking about it, and purely for her own amusement, Amelia reached out with her mind, and a small toy cab instantly attached itself to the end of the woman’s pen. It bobbed merrily on a long spring as the waitress took down their orders. After she left, Janet started to giggle.
“I guess you’re right about the cabs, Thomas,” she said. Thomas merely smiled and nodded, staring after the waitress and her pen, and looking more than a little disturbed. Amelia felt a bit sorry for him. Whatever he said, he was obviously in desperate need of sleep, and it was clear he wanted nothing more than to run away. She glanced over at Janet. Was that a new shirt?
Then something happened that made Amelia gasp in shock.
“Janet!” She fluttered her hands expressively. “Your hair!” Janet’s blonde locks were slowly twisting themselves into taxi-yellow and black ringlets. Erin shot Amelia a strange look.
“What’s the matter, Amelia?” she asked carefully. “It looks fine to me.” Amelia’s jaw dropped as the ringlets wound themselves tighter and tighter, surrounding her pretty friend’s face.
“Fine? You call looking like a cross between Shirley Temple and a bumblebee fine?”
“Amelia!” Erin shrieked, covering her mouth in shock. “What a horrible thing to say!”
Janet brought a hand up to touch a striped curl protectively. “You never told me you hated my hair before,” she protested, hurt evident in her eyes. Amelia, not quite sure what was going on, was torn between guilt and incredulity. Desperate, she looked to Thomas for help, but if possible, the look he was sending her was even worse than the glare from Erin. He was looking at her like she was something out of The Twilight Zone.
“Don’t tell me you don’t see it? Her hair is. . .” she trailed off helplessly. Thomas, who now looked even more pale and tired than before, merely shrugged nervously. Amelia felt a throbbing pain begin to build in her brain. Maybe she’d done it by accident, she decided. It had never happened before, but then, she was feeling pretty uncomfortable, and there was a first time for everything. Making her mind up quickly, Amelia mentally grabbed a fistful of the bubble and threw time back to before Janet’s hair had changed, and tied a small knot so it wouldn’t happen again.
When she was finished, the waitress was waiting for their orders, and Thomas was staring at her with his blue eyes wide open. She glared in response. Even though it hadn’t technically happened now, she was still annoyed that he hadn’t been more of a help to her when Janet’s hair had gone cabby. Then she remembered that he wouldn’t have noticed anything was different, and sighed. She was just about to order her chicken fingers –again– when suddenly the waitress began sprouting feathers. This time Amelia jumped out of her seat.
“Amelia?” Janet asked carefully. “Are you alright?” Blonde hair restored, she turned to Thomas and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, she just gets excited sometimes. . .must be the anticipation of the chicken fingers.”
Yeah, right! Amelia thought, now well and truly panicked. Her pulse began to pound and her breathing became erratic. What was happening? She’d never had trouble controlling the bubble before. Was she sick? Was she dying? Had she tampered with it one too many times, and now it was all going out of control?
A warm hand wrapped itself around her wrist. Amelia inhaled quickly and turned to see Thomas looking down at her seriously. “Calm down,” he said. “We need to talk.”
“I’m not crazy,” she insisted. Oh God, they were going to have her committed if she didn’t calm down. Mustering all the willpower she could, Amelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she was smiling in what she hoped was her usual carefree way. Then she twisted things again, going back to before she’d jumped out of her seat. When she was done, she pulled her wrist from Thomas’ grasp and was about to sit down, when something occurred to her. Her tampering should have affected him, too, so that he was sitting down like he had been before. It was only she who was never directly affected by time changes. Wondering what this meant, she carefully stepped away from him and sat down. She had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
And damn it, she was sick of waiting for her food.
Thomas studied her thoughtfully and felt a strange combination of dread and excitement wash over him. Was it possible that she. . .? That she could change things too? As all of their meals miraculously appeared on the table, literally dropping down out of nowhere, his fears were confirmed. Oddball was using the gel too. That was the only explanation. He watched with a mixture of concern and amusement as the strange brunette began shoving chicken fingers into her mouth at an alarming rate, bracelets tinkling frantically.
“Look. . .” Damn, what was her name again? A light went off in his head and he smiled slightly. British accent in full force, he spoke soothingly: “Amelia.”
She looked up quickly, eyes wide with alarm, before putting on a smile too bright to be sincere. He wondered if she was always that phony. But then, he himself knew the strange effect it could have on a person when they alone had the ability to change the world. Literally.
“Yes?” she asked shakily, before shoving another piece of sweet-and-sour sauce saturated bird flesh into her mouth. Thomas tried not to grimace at her lack of grace. If she really did have the ability to tamper with the gel, then it was a good thing he’d found her when he did. The world could be in serious danger from such a woman. For that matter, he could be in serious danger from such a woman. Could she possibly harm him? He leaned back in his seat and observed her carefully, unaware of the fact that he was looking down his nose at her like he was a prince and she was pond scum.
Amelia’s smile faltered. “Do I have something on my face?” she asked dryly, all vulnerability suddenly gone. Janet and Erin exchanged glances, eyes wide, and pretended to focus on their meals.
Thomas was about to respond when he felt the air change around him. Amelia’s smile returned, this time with a predatory gleam. He looked down and nearly choked on his surprise. His beautiful suit was gone, replaced by a pair of tight black leggings and some kind of long red shirt with gold embroidery. Furious, he felt his heart begin to pound. He clenched his jaw.
Control, Thomas, he thought to himself. Everything will go back to normal soon. Just stay in control.
“So, are you here for a convention or something?”
Janet asked curiously before taking a huge bite out of a fajita. Thomas
clenched his fists at his sides and forced himself to sound polite.
“Convention?” he repeated tightly. Erin looked him up and down with a raised brow, before shaking her head and going back to her meal. Janet nodded enthusiastically and leaned forward so her cleavage was showing.
“You’re Lord Farquaad, right? From Shrek?”
Lord Farquaad?! he thought, enraged. He looked over and locked eyes with a suspiciously smug Amelia, the connection sending a strange jolt through him. Either she hadn’t quite caught on to their situation, or she didn’t know who she was messing with.
“Listen, Amelia,” he said darkly, continuing to hold her gaze. He noticed that her breath rate seemed to have increased. Good. He wanted her unbalanced. “Do you understand what just happened?”
Oh dear.
What was going on here? Was he really unaffected by her twisting the bubble, or was she just being paranoid? There seemed to be no mistaking the cool rage he was radiating, but she couldn’t risk revealing her secret unless she knew for certain. And if he was unaffected, what did that mean? Amelia could just imagine him grabbing her, his strong hands digging into her arms as he threw her into a cage somewhere to be studied. Or worse, what if he tried to use her ability? Or kill her?
As Thomas continued to hold her captive with his eyes, Amelia came to a decision.
Reaching up with her mind, Amelia grabbed a chunk of the bubble with more force than necessary and gave it a furious twist. She had never been able to toy with people’s minds before, but if this stranger was an exception to one rule, why not another? Moving carefully, she reached into the section of bubble she had twisted, the part that felt like him, the part that had the texture of his being. Cold, she thought, like steel, and yet not cold at all. She hadn’t tried this since childhood, and was alarmed by how personal it felt. Somehow this was far more invasive than reaching across the table and touching his body. But if she could make him forget, it would be worth it. Then she would leave before her malfunction started acting up again and everything would be fine. Normal.
Telling herself what she was doing wasn’t wrong, Amelia gave Thomas Hunt’s mind a little tap.
And was promptly thrown across the room.