Sad Songs Say So Much (Laurie)

[Matthew Craft]

[[ Not even the evil lesbian cow boss can keep me from everyone's new favourite pair: Matty x Laurie! ]]

He has history homework he's supposed to be working on, and his mark will probably drop a few points for rushing it at the last minute, but Matthew doesn't really care. When stress sets upon him, he can't resist the profound urge to sit at the piano and just let his emotions translate themselves into music. Usually the happier feelings turn into some perky and upbeat chords, and if he wasn't such a bad dancer, he'd probably get up and boogie along to it. But in his present case, Matthew is strumming out a slower, mellower, even darker string.

It's not that he's outright depressed, but frustrated, discouraged, and confused definitely fit the bill.

Things with Laurie, he had thought, had gotten back to 'normal' while they were in New York City...giant mutant-hating mob aside, of course. But the moment they'd gotten themselves back to the mansion (and the Blackbird is so amazingly cool, by the way), she'd shied away again.

The girl is easily frightened (though her bravery during the riot still continues to impress him), so Matthew's again forced to wonder if she's scared of him. He couldn't really blame her if she was; that radiation scare in the city had spooked him as well (many a hour have since been spent in the Danger Room).

Keeping with that train of thought for another few seconds, he barely notices as his music hits a more sour tone. Nor does he notice the sound of soft footsteps as they near the door.

[Laurie Collins]

The idea was a quick trip to the library for some reference on the Boer War, nice and studious and simple. Now she’s lurking in the doorway to the music room, drawn by the melancholy notes stringing together into a song that had drifted out through the open door and into the hall, and held by the expression on Matthew’s face as he plays. This can’t just be easy can it? She’s trying to do the right thing, to stay away from him, hope he just forgets about her (and why does the idea that there’s something to forget make her perversely exhilarated?). She knows it’s the right thing, it’s the safest thing after all, for both of them, and so it must be right. So if I’m so sure this should be easy. I should turn around and walk away before he notices me. I should go write my essay and turn it in to Mr. Putzkammer tomorrow and then worry about whether I proofread it enough and read some more of the new book mom got me for Christmas and then go to sleep and try not to wake up every five minutes. Good plan. She can see it unfolding in her mind, can picture herself walking down to the library, up to her dorm,. on and on and on away from this moment and this threshold and that look on Matthew’s face while he plays. Her feet, however, don’t seem to have gotten the memo about this great plan because she finds herself shuffling forward cautiously, half wanting to be seen and half wanting to run and not sure what she’ll do next. And doesn’t that just summarize the entire problem? No, I suppose you’d have to add in the part about where he knows too much about some things but not nearly enough to know what he’d be getting himself into, what could happen, if he even…if he actually…why can’t he just be like everyone else? And then because she’s almost directly in front of the piano now and she can’t just run away or stand there frozen hating her stupid feet she dredges up something to say.

“Um. Hi. I…heard you playing?” her tone is turning it into a question and she’s wringing her hands which are getting a little slick as her palms start pumping out sweat. Why does nature make us gross when we’re nervous? It doesn’t help! she thinks rather ridiculously. “It…sounded sort of sad?” which is opening the door for all sorts of things she’d firmly resolved not to talk about, but the problem is that her head isn’t so much working, or maybe that there’s a part of her that wants to just level with him, let him know that even if he felt the same way he should be running in the other direction. That would really be the best thing for him, and probably the worst thing for her. But not a big enough part to prompt her into further speech apparently, because she continues to stand there, shifting her weight awkwardly and barely containing the nerves-guilt-attraction swirling up in her stomach and clamoring for release. That was probably the one good side-effect of all the chaos as of late- after the forced practice she was getting better at holding back her pheromones.

[Matthew Craft]

“Um. Hi. I…heard you playing?” When he's as enthralled with his music as he is now, Matthew's often easily startled, but Laurie's soft voice only makes him lift his eyes while his hands keep moving. However, the her sudden presence causes him to quiet the music until it's only faintly in the background. The tone refuses to alter itself, despite her miraculous appearance.

"Yeah...I had to take a break from that history essay." Normally he'd forget his inner, aggravating thoughts, sport a cheery grin, and invite her to sit next to him. But for some reason, like he's dettached from the rest of his body, the smile never forms. Instead, Matthew maintains a general form of sober civility. Not exactly the way he wanted to greet her...

“It…sounded sort of sad?” He holds one note longer than he had planned, stumbling over her question for a tiny instant, before resuming.

"I...have a lot of my mind, I guess." He glances down at his hands as the music continues. It's an unnecessary action, for he could play even if they'd blindfolded him, but there's something about Laurie's expression that he finds slightly unsettling. Forcing back the urge to shake his head at his own absurdity, Matthew focuses upwards again. "So...what brings you down here? Finished your paper already?" Casual small talk seems quite awkward right now, but leaping up, grabbing her by the shoulders, and demanding why she's barely spoken to him in weeks would be the eptiome of awkward.

[Laurie Collins]

"I...have a lot of my mind, I guess."

Laurie looks even more awkward at that, wondering if he means her, hoping he doesn’t because she doesn’t want to make him sad and hoping he does, just a horrible little bit, because doesn’t everyone want someone who notices and cares when they aren’t around? Stop it.

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess everyone does lately. Lots of, um, mutant terrorist fighting stuff lately.” (oh damn I said lately twice skitters wildly through her mind) she mutters rather lamely, biting her lip and wishing fervently she’d never even walked in because who was she kidding, she’s not brave enough to say anything important to him. Just stammering and blushing then running away again and confusing him more. Honestly she’s surprised he isn’t angry at her, even though she’s trying to do the right thing he doesn’t know that and she’s been obviously avoiding him when before the Invasion she would have easily called him a good friend, or as close as she had here. She knew she’d be hurt at the very least if she’d been on the receiving end. He just doesn’t understand. she tells herself and ignores as best she can the return mental-whisper of because you won’t tell him.

"So...what brings you down here? Finished your paper already?"

“No, I still have a few sources I want to check up on. Some poem Thomas Hardy wrote which I think someone told me was written around the same time and I want to get in a paragraph on cultural significance that’s not just, you know, the usual sort of cause and effect about South Africa even though South Africa really is the point and…” she realizes she’s rambling and trails off mid-sentence. “Yes, ah, so I just wanted to get to the library and then I head the music and followed it and, um, yes. Hi.” she pauses for a beat, watching him watching her with the strangest expression, colder than he usually is but not precisely angry. It’s discomfiting and she finds herself taking a step back automatically.

She opens her mouth again, words rising up to her lips ”I should go”, “I’m sorry I’m so weird” but stopping there and she settles for clearing her throat, shutting her mouth again, and looking miserably incoherent.

[Matthew Craft]

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess everyone does lately. Lots of, um, mutant terrorist fighting stuff lately.” Part of him feels like rolling his eyes, while another bites back 'we're too young to be worrying about this stuff' but he knows that isn't true, not anymore. His prevailing action is a simple, small nod as his fingers continue to flow over the imitation-ivory keys.

Matthew notes with a small frown that Laurie seems somewhat uncomfortable. It's not exactly something new, but usually it doesn't happen around him. And then she's talking about poems and South Africa and their history assignment and for a moment, he honestly believes that the discomfort was all in his mind. After the short, stammering explanation of how she arrived at his piano he allows a quick, subtle smile, but her swift step backwards makes his face fall. Matthew finds his mind racing back to his previous thoughts, concluding that may she is, in fact, afraid of him. Desperation takes over and the music abruptly stops as he stands.

"I'm sorry," he tries to rid all the forlorn emotion from his voice as places his hands on the top of the piano and leans against it. "I'm not being very hospitable." Hospitable? You're not a butler you know. Only butlers say 'hospitable'. "I mean...I'm sorry." Matthew mutters again, dropping his head and scratching behind an ear nervously. "Did you want to sit down? I can grab you a chair..." He steps back towards the stack of chairs in the corner, but stops and shifts, waiting for her answer. "Or you're welcome to sit there..." He points awkwardly towards the piano bench. "But you were heading for the library...not that I want you to leave! But, you know...we have this paper due tomorrow and all." Matthew stares at his feet for a few long seconds before looking back up, a bit of seriousness retaking him after his inexplicable rambling. "Unless...you want to talk or something...cause we haven't chatted in a while." And I've missed it...I missed you...and how come we've been all strange since all that invasion and New York stuff?

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie jumps slightly as he stands up suddenly, she’s pretty used to Matthew’s height but he’s not usually one for sudden jerky motions and the quick movement startles her into another shuffled step back. Then he starts rambling about chairs and benches and leaving and she’s trying to process all of that because she generally tries to really listen to what everyone has to say, but when it all comes out so jumbled it’s hard, and finally one fragment of it pierces her nervous mental scramblings-

"I'm sorry,"

He sounds sad, at least a little, when he says it and for a moment she can almost imagine what it must be like to be influenced by pheromones because a corresponding sadness is gathering as a block in her throat while guilt churns like bile in her stomach.

“No!” she blurts out, shaking her head rapidly and letting her hair stay in front of her face when she stills, keeping her gaze down on the carpet of the music room floor. “I-I mean, don’t be sorry, please. You didn’t… I’m the one who should be…” she takes a shaky breath and tugs at a strand of her hair in a gesture of nervous uncertainty as if she intends to brush it away from her face but ends up just fiddling with it instead. “I’m sorry.” she adds in a whisper, darting her eyes up from the carpet to gauge his reaction as she continues. “I’m not trying to be…” she casts inadequately about for words, “I just thought it would be better for you if you sort of… forgot about me for awhile… so I tried to stay away from you but we’d already made plans to go into New York and I didn’t want to back out and then there was the riot and, and everything and I sort of forgot about staying away from you because… well, you know, chaos and everything then I tried to go back to avoiding you but you looked sad today and, um, I know it doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with me, I mean I’m not assuming you…” she bites her lip to halt the fit of babbling, composing herself for a moment before adding. “I’m trying to do the right thing not be, um, a jerk or hurt you or anything.” she finishes, more composed but hardly more coherent, hoping he’ll somehow interpret that jumble.

[Matthew Craft]

Matthew blinks slowly...once, twice, three times as Laurie goes on a tirade about how she wanted him to forget about her and then the riot and a few other things. But mainly, he's focused on the 'forget about me' part.

"Why would I just forget you? I don't want to forget you. I like you..." He pauses momentarily. Please don't notice that I said that. But part of him hopes that she does notice because then maybe she'd realize that he doesn't want her to keep avoiding him. "I don't understand...why do you want to avoid me? Did I do something wrong?"

“I’m trying to do the right thing not be, um, a jerk or hurt you or anything.” He cocks his head and frowns.

"I thought I was being the jerk!" He's not angry, just bewildered, but his surprised tone of voice could probably be mistaken for either emotion. "I thought I scared you or something!" Matthew takes a step forward and wrings his hands in front of him. "I thought that after the invasion and the riot and everything that I'd screwed it all up between us. And I really hope that I didn't screw things up, because I don't like not being around you..." That was a lot more than he had originally intended to say, and it obviously alluded to some much more inner dealings, but there was no taking it back now. He stills, inwardly cursing himself for rambling so much, and waiting nervously for her response.

[Laurie Collins]

"Why would I just forget you? I don't want to forget you. I like you..."

Laurie widens her eyes, startled out of her internal labyrinth of guilt and nerves and all the rest by that. Does he mean…? He does, he wouldn’t say it like that if he just meant friends would he? Would he? and then the fluttering in her stomach turns to stones again. Did I make him like me?

"I thought I was being the jerk! I thought I scared you or something! I thought that after the invasion and the riot and everything that I'd screwed it all up between us. And I really hope that I didn't screw things up, because I don't like not being around you..."

Is that what he’s been thinking all this time? The shock of that is enough to distract her from the potential anger in his tone when it otherwise might haze paralyzed her“No!” she exclaims quickly, then blushes and bites her lip again. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong at all. And I know it wasn’t your fault, any of the times your radiation got out of control or anything. I know you wouldn’t ever…” she trails off in her assurances, taking a breath before adding, “It’s me I just…” she waves her hands vaguely in inarticulate frustration, the idea of talking about this going against the grain of every instinct she’s cultivated since she found out what she was that vacation three years ago.

“After the invasion… in the med lab? I realized I liked you as, um, you know, more than friends. And with my pheromones it just…it isn’t a good idea for me to feel that way about anyone, ever, and I didn’t want to make you think you liked me too because that’s just like- it’s just, a bad thing to do. So I just… I thought I’d stay away from you and you’d forget me and everyone would be better off.” she winces at how self-pitying, how pathetic, that sounds and abruptly drops her gaze back down to the carpet. “I didn’t think you’d blame yourself… I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I was trying to make sure you didn’t get hurt.” she admits sheepishly, a corner of her mouth twisting up into a wry sort of grimace at the irony of that sentiment.

[Matthew Craft]

"I realized I liked you as, um, you know, more than friends."

"I...Oh..." That was something he had definitely not expected. She likes me...like that? Like the way I like her? I...wow...

"I didn’t want to make you think you liked me too because that’s just like- it’s just, a bad thing to do." Matthew shakes his head a few times, trying to get past the 'She likes me!' giddiness and concentrate on what Laurie's saying.

"I'm pretty sure I like you even without the pheromone stuff..." He reassures, surprised at his own ability to speak as his mind is still galloping in excited circles. "I wouldn't be worrying about not seeing you when you weren't around if I was." Hopefully she'd be able to be at least some sense out of that fuddled sentence. "But I mean, when you're not around, I'm still very much aware that I like you..." Matthew feels like he can't get enough of saying that. All this time he'd been keeping it in, figuring he would scare her away if he ever mentioned it, but now that it was out, and he knew she felt the same, he just can't stop himself from saying 'I like you' over and over.

“I didn’t think you’d blame yourself… I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I was trying to make sure you didn’t get hurt.”

"I wasn't hurt, I was just confused...and maybe a little scared that things were kaput between us. That would have hurt." There's a bit of an amused and relieved smirk playing on his lips before he adds, "I'm okay now that I understand, but are you?"

[Laurie Collins]

"I...Oh..."

Well it’s not exactly the response every teenage girl day-dreams about hearing after confessing her ‘like’ to a boy but at least it wasn’t revulsion or laughter or… just imagining all those are making her nervous again though they obviously haven’t happened (or just haven’t happened yet? After all he hasn’t really reacted at all and what if…) and she shuts down that avenue of paranoid thought.

"I'm pretty sure I like you even without the pheromone stuff..."

Okay, that’s better. That is a definitive answer. That is good. Wait, no, isn’t it bad? Right. That’s the point. she shakes her head to clear away the teenage-hormone induced fuzziness and squints at Matthew a little thinking stop making my head all funny though luckily managing not to say it.

"I wouldn't be worrying about not seeing you when you weren't around if I was. But I mean, when you're not around, I'm still very much aware that I like you..."

Laurie shakes her head again, less to clear it than to deny that chain of reasoning this time, because he’s missing the point, he’s always missing the point. If it were that easy does he really think she’d have acted this way? Been so nervous? Well I guess I would have been just as nervous but it wouldn’t have been the same thing she concedes mentally, opens her mouth to say what she’s been thinking, but he’s already going on, his relief and excitement steamrolling right over her nervous hesitation.

"I wasn't hurt, I was just confused...and maybe a little scared that things were kaput between us. That would have hurt. I'm okay now that I understand, but are you?"

“No.” Laurie says quietly, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment and visibly composing herself for this conversation because she knows it’s too important for her to muck up with her rambling incoherency. “You don’t understand the way it works, pheromones and…things like this. You would still think you liked me when I wasn’t around because you would remember liking me when I was there and it isn’t as if you hated me before so it would still seem to fit. And if I decided I didn’t care and we, er, you know.” she waves her hands vaguely, blushing, because even though she’s trying to calmly tell him all the reasons this won’t ever the work the thought of ‘it’ a relationship, a kiss, anything, is still whipping up all the emotions it’s hardest to repress. “Um, anyway, you’d find yourself forgiving little things about me that annoyed you or made you mad, you’d give things up you liked that I didn’t, you’d change and you’d…you’d lose things. And then one day maybe I would stop liking you and you’d snap out of it and you’d hate me for it. Even if that didn’t happen, even if you really do like me and it works, what if something happens? What if we fight or break up? I mean normal people do crazy things in that sort of situation so how could I trust myself not to just… I don’t know, make you forget and like me again?” this is probably the longest she’s talked in one go in a very long time and as she draws to the end of the explanation her voice grows softer, more breathy than usual, and her face pales with nerves and the strain of holding her pheromones in check so that her freckles stand out almost three-dimensional against it, a tiny galaxy of darkly pigmented dots swirling over her cheekbones. “The thing is I don’t think you really believe it could happen. You think you’d notice, that you know yourself too well, or that someone else would intervene, but it’s true. That’s the way it happened.” her eyes widen as the last word slips out, she’d meant to say ‘could happen’ but the tense had twisted on her tongue, potentially betraying that she’s drawing the scenario from an actual model. Now if he asks I’ll have to tell him… maybe that would make him understand.

[Matthew Craft]

[[ *Brain melts* Gaaaaaah....it's not the way I want it, but I'm too tired and frustrated to fix it. It'll give you something to work with though ]]



“No.”

And then his excitement falls flat on its face. That’s not exactly the answer he had been anticipating. But what had he been expecting? The ideal situation would have Laurie happily launching herself at him and giving him an enthusiastic kiss. But this is Laurie we’re all thinking about here. Flinging herself against him was something that had only happened in dire life-or-death situations.

“You don’t understand the way it works, pheromones and…things like this. You would still think you liked me when I wasn’t around because you would remember liking me when I was there and it isn’t as if you hated me before so it would still seem to fit. And if I decided I didn’t care and we, er, you know.”

Laurie…has a point… Matthew concedes grimly. Maybe all this is just an effect of her pheromo—no. Shut up you idiot. You like her for her, not for some dumb little chemicals that just happen to be bobbing around all the time. But the hard part was convincing her of that.

“Um, anyway, you’d find yourself forgiving little things about me that annoyed you or made you mad, you’d give things up you liked that I didn’t, you’d change and you’d…you’d lose things. And then one day maybe I would stop liking you and you’d snap out of it and you’d hate me for it.”

Hate? No. If there is one thing that Matthew isn’t, it’s hateful. He despises and dislikes lots of people, but he doesn’t hate them. Hate implies something truly dark and dangerous, something that doesn’t go too well with the ability to release radiation at will. And he’s trying to find a break in her anguishing rant, but she’s off again.

“…So how could I trust myself not to just… I don’t know, make you forget and like me again?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” He says, soft but firm. “Fine, maybe I don’t know you as well as I’d like, but I know that you would never intentionally hurt me, or anyone else. I’ve seen—and felt—you do a lot of really amazing things. You turned, like, thirty raging New Yorkers into a bunch of calm hippies. Myself included.” He had no idea where he was trying to go with this… “And as scary as you think this…thing,” Because really their relationship wasn’t anything definable just yet. “Might turn out, or as bad as you think you might end up being, I still trust you. You might not trust yourself, and believe me, I know the feeling," Nuclear abilities were probably just as tough to get used to as pheromones, especially when they're tied directly to ones emotions. "But you will." Okay...and now what? Music came easy, but speech, proving points, and winning arguments? Toni got that gene.

“The thing is I don’t think you really believe it could happen. You think you’d notice, that you know yourself too well, or that someone else would intervene, but it’s true. That’s the way it happened.”

"No, Laurie. You don't under--It happened?" Past tense? And he may not know Laurie as in depth as to understand what she meant, but an error like that wasn't a simple mistake. While she tended to ramble and mutter something off shyly or nervously, she never tended to make any notable grammatical mistakes. Matthew cocks an eyebrow, both confused and mildly intrigued. "What do you mean?"

[Laurie Collins]

You wouldn’t do that. Fine, maybe I don’t know you as well as I’d like, but I know that you would never intentionally hurt me, or anyone else. I’ve seen—and felt—you do a lot of really amazing things…”

Amazing? she remembers the sound of bullets hitting flesh again and again and again bangs followed by wet little smacks, and she raises her hand automatically to rub at the back of her neck where the blood had splattered, drying there into little rust red dots like freckles. But then again there’s the riot, the memory of the relief she’d felt when the radiation had faded from Matthew’s hands is almost as palpable as the revulsion she still feels thinking about the soldier who’d died in her room. Whenever I’ve used my pheromones on purpose I haven’t hurt anyone but…I don’t know… she shrugs noncommittally and looks down at her shoes.

"No, Laurie. You don't under--It happened? What do you mean?"

Oh no… but maybe it’ll be good if he knows. Maybe he’ll understand. “Me.” she blurts out without thinking then gives a choked little laugh, bringing her hand up to her mouth to stifle it and biting down on her knuckle for a moment like she wants to draw blood. “When my mom was twenty she met someone at Stanford, that’s where she was going to college, pre-law on a full ride.” her voice is soft but steady with the air of someone reading aloud from a book they’ve worn down to dog-eared exhaustion with constant reading. “I don’t know his name, I never asked and she never told me, but I know he was like me, he had pheromones, and he made her… she dropped out of school for him, lived with him for three years, just stopped communicating with anyone but him and so there was no one… and then I guess there was an accident and she got pregnant and so his pheromones stopped working and she ran away and had me and didn’t have an abortion or give me up for adoption for some reason which is good because I like, um, living, and I love my mom but-“ she cuts off and blushes as the rambling begins, not realizing how much she’d wanted to talk to someone about this until it was starting to come out. “But that’s, um, that’s what happened. That’s how I know I-we- just can’t do…this.” she finishes waving her hands vaguely, grasping at whatever ‘this’ is or could be.

After a moment of silence something occurs to he and she looks up again from where she’d focused her gaze intently on the carpet. “And please… I really don’t want anyone to know about this so if you could just… not tell anyone?” she asks hopefully.

[Matthew Craft]

“Me.”

He’s about to ask what she means by that quick answer, but slams his mouth shut when he realizes what she means. Or at least, he thinks he knows what she means and he’s not going to say anything out of fear of saying something inappropriate and stupid.

“When my mom was twenty she met someone at Stanford…I don’t know his name, I never asked and she never told me, but I know he was like me, he had pheromones, and he made her… she dropped out of school for him, lived with him for three years, just stopped communicating with anyone but him and so there was no one… and then I guess there was an accident and she got pregnant and so his pheromones stopped working and she ran away and had me.” Matthew feels like shrugging it off with a ‘Oh, that’s all?’ but then the seriousness and fear in her quiet tone make him hit reality head on.

It was as if someone had pummeled him in the back of the head with a rather generously sized truck. Of course now everything made sense: the reason why she’d been avoiding him, the reason why she’s constantly apologizing for all her pheromone slip-ups…. She was scared of becoming like this…guy (because if she doesn’t call him her father, Matthew won’t either)

“But that’s, um, that’s what happened. That’s how I know I-we- just can’t do…this.”

How could he argue now that she’d spilled the story of how she came to be? There was no way any amount of his reasoning could talk her out of it, and he knew it. Naturally, that would never stop him. “You’re…this guy obviously didn’t have all his eggs in one basket when he did that to your mom….You’re not like that though; you wouldn’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.” He says firmly, trying to take a bold stance in this otherwise feeble argument. “And it’s not like you’re going to get me pregnant or anything…unless this mutant thing didn’t end at the nuclear bit and I’ve really got a set of ovaries here somewhere.” And there’s the verbal faceplant. Crap.

“And please… I really don’t want anyone to know about this so if you could just… not tell anyone?” Blushing furiously at the idiotic attempt of cracking a joke, Matthew nods, scratching his head while desperately trying to find something redeeming to say.

“Mum’s the word…” And that’s not the redeeming line he was looking for. Double crap. "Sorry," Matthew half groans. "And I'm sorry for the ovaries thing. That was totally uncalled for. And I'm sorry if you've felt that I've been pushing you into...this, and I know that I've been acting with probably no real regard for your feelings. I should have been paying more attention to you instead of what I wanted. And I still do want this. Everything including the pheromones and your bad-cooking mom and the history and all that." Now he's sure he's getting these lines from chick flicks. "And something tells me you wouldn't have said all that if you didn't want it too..." Just when he's getting his groove back he's run out of overly sappy comments to blabble on with in a completely disorganized manner. Matthew's left to move his hands around as if he were still talking and trying to make some intellectual point (which he knows would never happen). Finally he drops his arms and lets the silence tear away at him as he waits for her response.

[Laurie Collins]

Laurie watches him process the story carefully, forcing herself to scan his face for disgust or disapproval the way she’d so often scanned her mother’s face after an accidental pheromone emission became obvious. He looks concerned, shocked, but nothing else, no matter how intently she searches, and part of her wants to smile in relief while another part wants to shake him (however impossible that would actually be), to yell at him for not just getting it.

“You’re…this guy obviously didn’t have all his eggs in one basket when he did that to your mom….You’re not like that though; you wouldn’t make me do anything I don’t want to do.”

“You never know what you’ll do till you’ve done it.” Laurie responds, not argumentative or hostile, merely resigned and immovable, the tiny pebble on a windswept beach smacked and buffeted and worn away by stinging salt winds but unmoving, unchanging. “I don’t think anyone wakes up and says ‘today I will start becoming a sociopath’ but it happens anyway. Maybe you trust me, but I don’t trust myself, and you don’t even know how much of that trust is influenced by my pheromones.” she hesitates for a moment then plows ahead with perhaps the second weightiest concern on her mind, the one Matthew could never change no matter what he did. “And how could I do that to my mom? Don’t you think just having me around is enough of a reminder for her? If something did happen you might be okay, your sister is immune and she could look out for you if it got obvious, but what about my mom watching it all play out again?” she shakes her head quickly, knowing she should stop there but somehow unable, like she’s drawing venom from a snakebite with her words and now that it’s started she can’t stop. “I ruined her life just by being- she never got to finish school or get married or even stay in one place for more than two years because she was taking care of me. I can’t do anything else to hurt her.”

“And it’s not like you’re going to get me pregnant or anything…unless this mutant thing didn’t end at the nuclear bit and I’ve really got a set of ovaries here somewhere.”

That earns him a blank stare and then, startlingly even to Laurie herself, a tiny smile though he seems embarrassed by the remark as soon as he’s made it. Still, it’s like a thunderstorm in the midst of a muggy day- maybe not what you want but at least it breaks through the oppressive humidity. Then he starts apologizing again for seemingly everything under the sun and she shakes her head, opening her mouth to again assert that he has nothing to apologize for, it’s her fault, but his next words stop her cold.

“And I still do want this. Everything including the pheromones and your bad-cooking mom and the history and all that. And something tells me you wouldn't have said all that if you didn't want it too..."

I do she thinks, “I can’t.” she whispers. “It isn’t about doing what I want… or even what you want. It’s about what’s going to get people hurt and what’s going to keep them safe.” she backs up a few paces until she’s standing in the doorway, her face tightly controlled but her hands shaking. “I’m sorry…” and then she whirls and starts to make her escape into the hall, blinking rapidly to see through the moisture gathering in her eyes.

[[I'm out, parting remarks to Matty]]