doubled_speed | For Wearingthestars

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For Wearingthestars

I wish I wasn't alone.

The words were whispered from inside the relative safety of the tiny closet in Tommy Shepherd's bedroom in Springfield, New Jersey. Whispered because there was no way that he wanted Frank or Mary, fighting in the living room, shouting and screaming, to hear them.

I wish I wasn't alone.

Repeated as Tommy held his hands out before him in the darkness palms up. He put as much conviction behind them as he put into anything he said starting with those two words. He had found rather quickly that whatever this power of his was, it came more readily when he framed it as a wish.

I wish I wasn't alone.

He repeated a third time. Three times always seemed to be the right amount when it came to willfully using his power. Even now he could see the faint green glow of energy radiating from his hands, trying to catch his words and shape them into whate he was asking for. At school he didn't always need it three times. He could feel the energy building in his gut like a tidal wave and crashing over him when he wished the bullies would leave him alone, or that he'd actually gotten a good grade so Mary wouldn't yell at him, or that the shirt that got torn up and bloody was clean so Frank wouldn't hit him for wasting good clothes.

Now, though, the words didn't seem to catch, and after a moment of held breath, the energy faded back, leaving behind only the briefest flash of sparks and static that he had to shake out of his hands. Apparently even magic, or whatever this was, couldn't help him.

It was a stupid wish, anyway, Tommy realized as he pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. And then, of course, he flinched at the sound of a breaking plate. They were getting bad tonight. He didn't want to be alone, not with them shouting like that. Sometimes it turned into Frank driving off to drink. Sometimes Mary stormed to their room and locked the door, leaving Frank on the couch. The former tended to mean Frank not coming home at all that night, and when he did the next day he smelled like booze and some other woman's perfume. The latter tended to mean Tommy couldn't sneak some breakfast in the kitchen before school, or being caught if he tried and he really didn't want to be on the receiving end of Frank's belt.

“Dammit. All I wanted was someone to talk to.”

He feels the rush of power even as he feels his body go limp and the world go dark around him. It’s a strange mix between a sneeze and passing out. When the sensation passes things are weird. For one thing, he can’t feel his body. There isn’t the cold of his room or the rough drag of his scratchy wool sweater that is too small for him or even the gnawing in his belly. No, there is just the swelling feeling of his magic, a prickly energy across his skin, and this place.

This new place is nicer than his room. There is more space. There are nerdy decorations on the wall. There are no cracks anywhere or dents from fists or broken furniture. He hates seeing how much nicer this place is than his home. But he is more interested in why his magic brought him here. And in the soft green light everything around him seems bathed in. Tommy raises his hand, or maybe just the concept of a hand, and is faced with the scary truth. His whole body is green and transparent. Okay. That is a bit weirder than normal.

Welcome, Tommy Shepherd, to the world of astral projection. And Billy Kaplan? Meet the strange, glowing ghostly boy in your room.

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"Not much of anything," Tommy sighs. "Just try and survive the night."

Tommy hesitates and holds his hand out to Billy. "I feel like i have more energy when I touch you. So maybe a charge up before we just talk about stupid stuff?"

"Like a battery?" he teases gently, smiling softly. Billy nods though and places his hand over Tommy's, shivering lightly. "What's it feel like?" It's still a strange sight, seeing his hand phase right through.

Well, for one thing, the touch does make the light from Tommy just a bit stronger, more reliable.

"Dude, it sounds stupid and cheesy. It's like... having something back I was always supposed to have. I feel like I KNOW how fast your heart has to be moving."

Billy's smile grows brighter, and his fingers curl a little, as though they're holding hands. Said heart flutters a little faster at the mention of it, and he flushes a little.

"It's not stupid."

It really is. And Tommy knows it. He sighs and shakes his head. Because that's just what he feels.

"Don't suppose your Mom or Dad have said anything more on the adopted front?"

"Uh, well...kind of, yeah. They dug out a whole bunch of her pregnancy photos, and...birth stuff. So...pretty definitely theirs." He looks apologetic and then a little uncertain. "They um...they did tell me though that I had a brother. A twin. But...he died." They hadn't been sure about telling him before, but with all his sudden questions they decided it was time. Which makes Billy a little wary, despite the fact that he's talked to Tommy. Maybe this is all some very complex haunting.

Oh... So, not him then. Tommy sighs. Was it wrong to hold out some hope? And that just was quashed. Oh well.

"I'm sorry. I didn't... mean to hurt you and your parents."

Billy hurriedly shakes his head. "No it's-" 'Okay' seems a bit cold. "...It's all right. I never knew...and Mom and Dad said they felt better after keeping it from me, so...Don't be sorry. ...I was really hoping that some how it was true."

"Me too," Tommy sighs, and then he moves away. "I just... was hoping to belong to someone other than them. But I guess even wishing for that wouldn't be enough. My magic isn't good enough."

Too much, it's all too much. And too impossible to deal with.

"Talk to me about your family. Tell me about all of it. Let me pretend, for a moment, that I belong here."

"You choose your real family. The whole 'blood is thicker than water' thing. We're family now."

He knows it's not what Tommy's looking for. But maybe it can be enough for now.

"...There's Mom. Rebecca. She's a psychologist. Super smart. Probably knows everything I'm thinking before I say it. She's real big on family time, and breakfasts, and following the latest studies on what will make us grow up mentally sound, which can be a bit...suffocating sometimes. There's Dad. Jeff. He's a cardiologist, so...also smart, but...in a different way. He can be kinda clueless about family stuff sometimes, but Mom usually fills him in. Makes the best eggs. They're busy a lot. My little brothers are pains, but I still love them. They share the room across from me. So if you lived here we'd probably share too..."

He considers a moment. "Only one set of grandparents left, I usually only see them around the holidays. When I was little they would also sneak me money all covert."

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the waters of the womb," Tommy quotes. Apparently he did retain some things from school. "Supposed to meant the bonds you make are more important than those forced on you."

But yeah, it really doesn't help. Instead he's going to just listen. Which is nice. He loves that part, the listening. And he wants to curl up like that. Listen to people he could have had as a family.

"I never had grandparents. Or if I do, I don't know them. Frank and Mary don't talk about their parents."

Edited 2019-08-25 04:11 (UTC)

"You can share mine," he offers easily, "You'll come for Hanukkah, they'll spoil you rotten." Billy speaks as those it's a forgone conclusion. "Especially if you don't know the stories. They love telling the history, and the twins don't wanna sit still for it any more."

Hanukkah? Huh, Jewish. Who would have thought it. But how would that even happen?

"Well, if we can, maybe I will. I don't know anything about Jews except what's in the text books at school and on TV. Which has to be wrong."

Right, Billy's never brought up that detail before now, has he? He smiles and shrugs a shoulder, "Some of it's all right, but it's usually pretty basic stuff. But we can teach you if you want to know."

"Maybe you can tell me some next time. Right now I want more of a general picture. Like... how big is this place? Where do you go to school? Do Rebecca or Jeff cook? How old are your brothers?"

Things he can use to pretend he belongs here.

Right. "Umm...it's about..." Billy trails off, not sure how to describe the lace in terms of square footage. "Three bedrooms, two bathrooms. Biggish. For the city. So the twins and I share the one bathroom, and then they have the other one. I go to Edward A. Reynolds (ooc. just picked a random upper west side school, no IDEA which one is actually appropriate for him) Which, you know...it's an okay school, but some of the students suck. Dad cooks more than Mom usually. He's actually pretty good. And the twins just turned seven, and have just reached the age where they think I'm the lamest thing in the world instead of their totally cool big brother, so...that's been fun."

"But you are lame, Billy-boy," Billy teases, and he's happy to have this much. He closes his eyes and relaxes and in the end, nods. It's all so good.

And with that he thinks it's time to say two words he doesn't tend to offer anyone.

"Thank you. You're... you're a good person."

Billy snorts softly, a bashful dismissal, but he smiles just the same at hearing it. "I'm nothing special." He lays a hand back over Tommy's, phasing through with a quiet hum.

"I just want things to work out for you. You deserve so much better."

Better doesn't seem likely. He's always felt like he deserved what he got. but that was part of what abuse did to you, wasn't it?

"I should get going home. Talk again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll do the research. I'll have it all ready by the time you show up, promise." He gives a reassuring smile. It might take a while, but they'll figure this out.

"Stay safe though, okay? And if things get bad you can call me any time."

Tommy offers a small salute before fading in his green sparks.

As for the next day? Well, there is a new rule for the universe: Tommy shouldn’t get to go to school angry and lost and hurting with little hope. Sure, Billy has offered to look into how to help him get away from his parents the night before, but that didn’t change the futility. Foster homes were supposed to be bad. If he didn’t just send up in a group home thanks to his age.

Long and short, he was impossibly highly keyed up by the time computer lab rolled around the next day. The teacher was an older woman that everyone was pretty sure kept a bottle of vodka in the drawer of her desk so Tommy knew he could get away with poking around on the internet rather than doing his class work. And his goal was seeing what he could find out about options available to teens in abusive homes.

Made the mistake, though, of doing it where Dan Simms could see it. His person bully. Lucky him.

“Awww, little Sheepy thinking he’s gonna try claiming his parents don’t love his sorry ass?” Dan asked, even as his his hand settled onto Tommy’s shoulder.

Which of course made Tommy flinch. His eyes glanced briefly toward the teacher. Sipping from her ‘water bottle’. No help from that corner.

“Not today, Dan. My dad already smacks the shit out of me enough. Just back off.”

Contrary to adult advice, not all bullies back off when confronted. Dan’s hand just tightened painfully on Tommy’s shoulder.

“What was that, Sheepy? All I heard was ‘baa baa baa.’ Try talking people.”

Too much. All too much. Tommy twisted enough to look up and Dan and glare. Which meant he didn’t catch the spark leaping from his finger to the keyboard and frying the thing.

"I want you to back off."

The spell didn’t catch, Tommy could feel it in how his body didn’t sag with exertion. But still his anger and sickness and frustration was building up, itching under his skin, demanding direction.

“Make me,” Dan smirked.

A mistake of words. Tommy had enough of this at home. He had enough in general. For the first him he stood and glared at his jock-moron bully eye to eye. Opened his mouth to speak. Except Dan moves first, grabbing for Tommy’s collar. The last mistake he would make for a while. Because as Tommy’s hand rose to knock it away something else entirely happened. Something far, far worse. A flash of light, multiple all from the source of his raises hand. The smell of ozone and burned hair. The darkness as the burst of lightning shorted everything in the room. The screams. All of it lost as Tommy stared in horror at Dan, collapsed on the floor.

“No,” he whispered in shock.

And then he lost control altogether.

Later, when he’d been taken from the school by the authorities, he didn’t protest. Didn’t say a word. Just let them take him with a numb sense of resignation. Didn’t answer questions, didn’t pay attention to the police detective or the shrink or even ~~who even would have expected this?~~ Thor himself, the authorities having called the Avenger for support to make sure Tommy’s clear mutant ability didn’t hurt anyone else until someone could get there with a suppression collar for his clear mutant ability.

The only thing that shook him from his numb shock was when one detective asked if he would at least write down what happened. Then Tommy nodded. The detective left him with a pen and paper and stepped out for a moment, Thor moving to wait outside of the room too.

No one seemed to care that technically no one could talk to Tommy without an adult present. Nor did Tommy care if Frank or Mary shows up. All he cared about was picking up the pen and writing out a brief message.

I’m sorry. I can’t talk to you anymore.

Two words repeated quickly and wit every ounce of belief he could muster and the paper flashed from his fingers.

To Billy.

They were enough. Sent and gone with a flash, to appear between the pages of one of Billy’s notebooks. Only the words, though. The paper was lost to the ether, leaving words in rich, emerald green ink scrawled along the next blank page of the next notebook Billy would open. And Tommy’s attention then shifted to his confession. Better to get it over with.

He doesn’t know it makes the news, even in New York, and definitely makes the Internet. Crazy mutant teen nearly electrocutes whole school, one kid in a coma, five with serious injuries, a good number of minor ones, and everyone scared about the mutant threats again. Charles Xavier not available for comment at this time. Which makes sense. Takes a while for the police to release enough to go on for it to get out of state. And given the explosion at the Avengers’ Mansion the next day, and everything else that spun out from that, it just became another story lost in the media shuffle.

Edited 2019-08-26 02:05 (UTC)

It's not the first time Tommy hasn't shown up, but it doesn't stop Billy from worrying. He's complied and summarized his research, along with the first steps they'll need to take.

It's a while before he discovers Tommy's message for him, and not long after that before he sees the news and puts two and two together. He's still trying to figure out what the hell he can do now when the Mansion explodes, and Billy's heroes are suddenly gone, all but shattering what's left of his faith.

He has no way to reach Tommy. No way to find him.

Billy does run out to Jersey, but it's a stupid, and fruitless attempt. He's not sure what he hoped to accomplish. There's not nearly enough information to help him find Tommy, and he's left with no more information than he started. No closer to finding Tommy.

His sins shouldn’t be visited on others, that was the choice Tommy had made

It’s three days after Tony Stark’s announcement that the Avengers have disbanded that it happens. Nights after Iron Lad has approached Teddy Altman in the manor, the very night that Iron Lad will show up at Billy’s window that it happens. A flicker of green light, forming at the door of Billy’s bed. Not Tommy in full, but a small, ghostly figure of him. Like a hologram projected by R2D2.

A figure that looks nervous. Which makes sense. Tommy doesn’t have much time to talk, but for the night he has a cell alone, and they haven’t got the suppressor on at the moment given the rubber gloves that went all the way up to his shoulders they had put on him and had ziptied behind his back.

No one knew the power of his voice.

"Tommy??" Billy's not sure he's ever moved quite so fast, rushing to kneel anxiously by the small figure.

"Whereareyou?Icanfindyouyouifyoujusttellme.Didtheyhurtyou?Areyouokay?" There's a barrage of questions, much too fast to be understood, and it takes very really effort to slow himself down.

"How can I help you??"

Well none of those are words he can understand until the end.

"Can't. I hurt people, Billy. I'm where I belong," Tommy sighs, the little figure's fingers coming up to rub at his forehead. "Came to tell you that you gotta forget about meeting me, okay?"

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Can do teddy or other YAs to help Billy pad out some time or another starter for Super-Skrull

Tommy :( :( :( And sure we can pad some time

Re: Tommy :( :( :( And sure we can pad some time

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