Lethal Premonitions: Part I by: Miraclelady It took me a while to finish this chapter, ne? Ah, well... I hope it’s good enough to make you feel better after the long wait! ^_^ The standard disclaimer applies, so... no suing necessary... Thank you... “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.” ~Genesis 50:20 Have a nice day! Laugh more! < 3 ~Miraclelady Jennifer Williams sighed in her sleep. She was having a nice, peaceful dream about Robert, her new boyfriend. When a shrill shriek echoed into her room, she was surprised out of her slumber, and landed with a loud bump in a heap on the floor. Jennifer had never been lucky; just now she was in a tangled jumble on top of her binders and notebooks. Not only was that very uncomfortable, but she also had several projects she was crumpling with her weight, and her college professors would be sure to nit-pick about every little crease. Jennifer sighed, stood, and knelt to the side of the papers and notebooks, attempting to smooth out the crinkles hopelessly . “What woke me up?” Jennifer asked the stuffed teddy bear Robert had given her-- along with a large, heart-shaped box full of chocolates-- for their two-week anniversary. She rose from her crouch, pushing back tangled, strawberry blonde hair roughly. “Hmm... well... Too bad. Time?” She checked the glowing, red numerals of her alarm clock, gasping in dismay as her fate seemed to be played with “Jaws” music. “7:30?! NO!!!” Jennifer ran for the bathroom, dragging along a pair of jeans she had worn out the knees on a year before. They were comfy, but not fit to see the inside of any one of her classes. She also clutched a baggy sweatshirt that came down to her knees that Robert had given her the week before. A one-week anniversary present. He had “guessed” a “little” on her size. The door slammed behind Jennifer, a picture falling down, from the force of the door shutting, on the opposite wall. A snapshot of four girls and three guys. The scream echoed through the small apartment once more. This time, it woke up the dog; a small cockerpoo* named Charles. Charles started yapping from her spot on the navy blue settee in Jennifer’s living room. Charles had been named before Jennifer had discovered her true gender, and, as a joke, Charles she had stayed. The bathroom door slammed back open; Jennifer had her hand on the flimsy, white-painted wood, and a horrified expression covering her face. “Serena!! I can’t believe it; I can’t believe I forgot!” She rushed back down the hallway, past her bedroom, down three steps, to a small, mahogany door at the end of the cream-carpeted corridor. The little door had amazingly clear likenesses of roses carved around the rim; the occupant was a destined artist that had had the fragile, white door native to the apartment complex removed and replaced with thick, solid wood. Jennifer didn’t appear to really notice the beautiful artwork; she hurled the thing open, the heavy wood of the door colliding with the mural painted wall of the room. “Serena! Oh! I am soo sorry!” Jennifer shouted, running into the room and shaking a person out of the bed and onto the floor in a mass of dark pink sheets. “We’re both going to be late because my stupid alarm clock forgot to go off!” Serena awoke, coughing back a yell of pain. Jennifer switched on the light in the room. “I gotta go take my shower. See ya in ten!” Serena watched her friend gallop back down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting the door with such great force a potted plant fell off the cherry wood table that stood near the lavatory. Serena sighed, smiling at her friend’s antics. She stood up, rubbing her forehead. Pulling her hand away, she saw her fingers were sticky with blood. The girl ran over to the large mirror she had gracing a bureau that was the centerpiece of her room. It was backed against the wall to the left of her door, so Jennifer couldn’t hurt the lovely piece of furniture with her constant slamming of doors. Serena’s hinges opened to the right only. Serena gaped at herself in the mirror. She had a large, gory scratch running straight across her forehead. As the young woman looked on in awe, the scrape healed itself, leaving a small, star-shaped scar in the middle of her milk-white countenance. Looking down at her small hand, Serena saw the blood had disappeared, too. Her large, blue eyes flew from hand to scar several times. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Serena was still standing there when the bathroom door crashed open and Jennifer, wrapped in a towel (she had just seen what she had brought into the bathroom to wear that day), ran down the hall and into her bedroom. The door slammed shut. Serena slowly reentered reality, realizing whatever had happened had been a miracle. That dream... so real... had had physical consequences on her body. Consequences that could have been-- should have been deadly. Serena considered it a message from God that she should remember the dream so clearly... so horribly distinctly. She could recall every single moment. She had even gone through several different people’s minds. Dr. Lindheim’s, Andrew’s... Darien’s... She shook her head. She needed to get moving. ~*~ Serena was sitting on the couch in her living room, a bowl of Raisin Bran in her hands. There were two “parlors” in the house-- one was a made-over bedroom; this was hers, the other was Jennifer’s, decorated in each woman’s own particular tastes. She took a bite of cereal, then set the porcelain bowl on the ground beside her feet and rose to walk over to the television. The centermost decoration of the small parlor was a 15” TV, sitting proudly on a carefully stained coffee table that took up roughly a quarter of the room. A soft yellow couch and ivory white love seat that she had found in a garage sale faced the television. The ceiling was high-up and echoey, though, so the room still had a nice, big feeling to it. There were large windows on the right and left hand walls, where the television wasn’t covering, and then on the front wall was a large painting Serena had created of angels; to its right was another of the flimsy doors. The furniture was faced away from them. The room’s color scheme was of white and soft yellows. The TV had been draped over with gold and silver gauze to hide its dark tone, and yet leave the screen free for viewers to actually view. Turning the television on, Serena took the remote in one hand and went back over to collapse on the yellow couch. She picked her bran back up, and proceeded to channel surf. “Today the President is...” “Barney, we love you...” “Mama, I ain’t done nothin’...” “Now, take these rose buds and carefully place one in the left hand corner of your beautiful Italian cut-glass...” “You need one cup of flour...” “If anyone has seen this little girl, please call (495) 237-9866. You will see the number on the screen beside Deidre’s picture-- and again, the number is (495) 237-9866. Her parents are very worried, as Deidre Hannigan has been missing going on 48 hours now.” “Sad isn’t it, Jody?” “Yes, it is. I’m very sorry that anything like that could happen. And now, to the weather...” Serena set the remote down; this was her favorite morning news program. The white-painted end-table in between the couch and love-seat began to shake as the saffron phone on it’s delicate top started to ring. Serena picked it up and held it to her ear. “Yes? Johnson and Williams residence. May I ask who’s speaking?” “You are way too formal, Girlie!!” “Hey Sarah,” Serena grinned, turning the volume down on her TV. “And what are you calling about?” “No duh! Where are you? The danged cafe’s ONLY opening in ten minutes! You even missed O’Brian’s roll call, dum-dum! Molly and I are... covering for you, so HURRY UP, eh?” “Ooh... You’re right. I’ll be there in... a bit! See ya!” And, before Sarah could get in another comment, Serena had slammed the receiver back into it’s base, picked up her cereal, and proceeded to slop it all down. Jennifer had gone to the college campus already; Serena had been too slow to go with her to hang out with Jennifer and all her wealthy friends until it was time to go to work at Cafe Fresco. Serena hurriedly turned off the TV and strode for the kitchen, where she cleaned her bowl and spoon and dumped them in the dishwasher. She checked Charlie’s food and water bowls, patted the little mutt lovingly, and locked the door on her way out. ~*~ Serena slipped in the back of Cafe Fresco as the first customer walked in the front. Sarah glared at Serena, obviously miffed at being hung up on. Serena mouthed “Sorry!” and Sarah shrugged, throwing her hands up in the air and turning away to work on an order. Sarah and Molly were cooks, while Serena was a waitress. “Johnson, where have you been?” Serena started at the low growl in her ear. So, O’Brian enters the scene... “Hey, Mr. O’Brian...” “Where have you BEEN!?” Connor barked angrily, his fingers clamping on her shoulder and forcefully turning her around to face him. “Johnson, ONE more show like this and you are fired! Do you HEAR me!? FIRED!” With that, O’Brian stalked towards Sarah in a huff, searching for his next victim. “Cassidy, WHAT are you DOING!? You stir the eggs COUNTER-CLOCKWISE! And you called yourself an excellent cook in your resume! Were you LYING to me?” Serena winced as her boss started complaining and threatening her about her work. The sensitive brunette would be very callous towards supervisors after this job. She had only been working at Fresco a few weeks, whereas Molly and Serena had been there for years, working their way steadily through college. Serena was about to receive her bachelor’s degree. She was happy about that. Soon she could take this job and shove it. She knew Molly felt the same way. Serena puttered about the back room, shoving her purse in a corner, pulling out her designated name badge that was to grace her white, long-sleeved blouse and long, black skirt. Cafe Fresco was not a fast-food place. It was located near the United Nations building in New York City, and many of the rich and famous that were in-town for a UN meeting came to Fresco. <> Serena thought enviously, wishing she had the kind of security the rich had. She lived day-to-day, knowing that without her bachelor’s, she’d be a good-for-nothing bum that wandered the Big Apple’s streets, begging piteously for loose change and digging in trash cans for food. Serena shuddered. She was not one to live on charity. “JOHNSON!” Serena shuddered at Connor’s bellow, nervous fingers checking her hair for any way-ward locks before running towards the eating part of the restaurant to start taking orders. She waved at a pink-cheeked Sarah and harried Molly, nodded condescendingly at her superior, Connor O’Brian, and slowed to a dead stop at the dull white swinging doors leading into the main rooms of the cafe. <> she reminded herself. Then she stepped through to the fancy oriental rugs, crystalline chandeliers, and linen-covered tables of the dining area. ~*~ Sarah groaned. She could feel the sweat running freely down her face; her ponytail had slipped from it’s perky position at the top of her head downwards until it hit the base of her neck; her bangs were plastered to her forehead, and most of her shoulder-length dark locks had redeemed themselves from the clutches of her scrunchie. She felt much as she assumed a zombie would feel; an example of the living dead. Molly clapped Sarah good-naturedly on the back. “Don’t worry! Only an hour and a half left, and we’re free! Free to go home and take a nap!” “How have you done this day after day for the past four years and not expired?” Sarah grumbled, her normally wide blue eyes half-closed with fatigue. “I think I could collapse!” “Umm... Sarah, dear-- you’ve got no choice, really... Oh, look! A new order.” Molly took the slip of paper from the passing waiter. “Ooh...” “What?” Sarah questioned crossly, pulling her hair back again and wiping sweat away from her carefully done make-up. “What do I have to cook for those fat pigs out there NOW?” “CASSIDY!! I do not EVER want to hear you talk about our GUESTS that way AGAIN! Do you UNDERSTAND?” Sarah grimaced, turning to look her boss in the shoulder. “Yeah. Er-- Yessir,” she mumbled. “I have TOURS back here! NEVER again, Cassidy! NEVER!” O’Brian swaggered off to find himself new prey. “My 17th time today,” Sarah groaned, waving her hand in her face, hoping to cool herself down just a little. “I’ve been working SO hard, too! When is he satisfied?” “Never. And come help me-- this order is going to be tough stuff.” “What did you tell me it was again?” “I didn’t. Three Cherry-cokes mixed with Mr. Pibb and Sprite and A&W Rootbeer-- only A&W... do we have A&W? I know we have the Barq’s and IBC... Umm... Four martini’s, two Miller Lites, three white wines, one Tequila, three margaritas, and one diet coke. Appetizers: Imam Bayeldi and a Jellied Chicken Salad for Two that’s really only for One. Dinner salads all around except for one Lite Caesar... Main Course: French Vichyssoise* for four, Beef Stroganoff for Four that’s going to be split among six, Chicken Tetrazinni for five to be shared by three, two kids Chicken’n’Cheese enchiladas... Dessert: a Cinnamon Coffee Cake, Egg Custard, Cherry Jubilee, and the Devine Cheesecake... Come on Sarah, buck up! That’s not half the order! I skipped some parts... but what is this? Some sort of family reunion!?” Molly turned away to begin getting ingredients for the Imam Bayeldi. Sarah clutched a counter top and gasped for breath. ~*~ Minako Tomlinson checked her watch, then looked up. Her manicured, gold-orange fingernails tapped agitatedly against the hardwood arm of her over-upholstered chair. <> Her nail-tapping must have annoyed the man in question, for his large hand settled over hers and he frowned at her. Wrong move. Minako jerked her fingers from his sweaty palm-- her hands were hot enough already! This room was boiling, and she had decided to wear a dark, heavy business outfit... Minako was sweating bullets. Her jacket had been discarded hours ago, and there was nothing else she could think of to do, in the middle of a business meeting anyway, to get cooler. Mariana sighed, slumping forward, then leaning back against the hard cushions, endlessly fidgeting, looking for the perfect spot in the horrid chair. “We really must decide how the stocks should go...” The CEO, Annilitse Hoyderogin, was droning on and on about such boring things-- it really was driving Minako crazy. <> Minako wiggled about again, crossing and uncrossing her legs. This time Andrew gave her his most fearsome glare, and Minako fell still. No use getting him angry with her. Not that he wasn’t already... <> Minako thought hopefully. When the conference finally ended, and everybody was trickling out of the room in pairs, shrugging their expensive designer coats back on, Andrew and Ms. Hoyderogin got caught up in a very business-y conversation. Minako sighed, fluffing her blonde hair in aggravation. This was abuse-- blatant, brutal abuse! To her! Minako Tomlinson! Daughter of a multi-billionaire tycoon that never-- nev-er-- made her sit in on his boring, stupid talks about such... “stuff”. Minako didn’t know one little bit about running a business, nor did she care to know. She was a singer, and that was all that particularly mattered in her feminine brain. Andrew finally got it into his narrow, little mind that he was forgetting someone. <> Minako fumed, her cheeks heating up as she attempted to smooth her face out of a scowl. “Mina, have you met Ms. Annilitze Hoyderogin?” “Charmed, I’m sure,” Minako murmured. “Likewise, Mina.” <> Minako tried to catch his eye, but he was guiltily evading all eye contact. “And,” Andrew went on, still not quite looking Minako in the face, “Lita and I are going to go to Cafe Fresco. Would you like to come, my dear? I know this meeting has been very stressful for you, and I’m sorry I forced you to come.” Minako looked at Annilitze for her reaction. The tall brunette merely watched her, calm and wearing her poker face-- just as she had all through the conference, Mina realized. This was competition! Minako thought fiercely. <> Raising her hand gracefully to Andrew’s elbow, she gave a captivating grin and claimed, “Of course not, Darling! I’d walk to the ends of the Earth for you!” She moved her hand slightly, so that the diamond and ruby encrusted band on her ring finger caught the light and shimmered, crying out for attention. Minako looked up at Annilitze through thick, blonde lashes. “And I wouldn’t mind learning more about you, Ms. Hoyderogin.” The C.E.O. hadn’t missed the undercurrent. She raised an eyebrow in answer, nodding her head curtly. “Of course. And vice-versa. Shall we?” The trio headed out the door, the tall, blonde man totally missing the feminine animosity being telegraphed over his head between Mina’s crystalline blue eyes and Lita’s dark green. ~*~ Serena looked at the huge order. She looked at Sarah. She looked at Molly. She looked at O’Brian’s broad shoulders, and her gaze slid back to the large tray, covered with heavy dishes that were artistically draped with even HEAVIER foods. “Well, Johnson?” Connor prompted, shifting his weight in a bored fashion. Serena gulped. She, Freddie, and Derek were the only serving people available at the moment. The two other waiters grinned at her. Both men looked precariously balanced; they were obviously about to tumble. Serena knew if it weren’t for their good natures, they would have dumped the boiling hot eats all over her. Another thing Serena knew was that they were both champion weight-lifters, working this job to help them pay their way through college. And Serena knew her arms were scrawny and spaghetti-noodle look-alikes-- liable to give out if she even thought seriously about picking those two loaded trays up. Problem was, she had no choice. Bravely, she stepped forward, begging Sarah and Molly with her eyes to help her out. They did, their pink, sweaty faces lined with worry. They knew that any Fresco employee who happened to drop Fresco food was done for. And the trays were way too much for Serena’s slight form. <> Serena thought huffily as Sarah carefully handed over the first tray. <> But resignation was out of the question. She needed the money. As Molly gingerly gave Serena the second tray, she looked at Connor daringly, wondering why he’d done this to her. Wouldn’t any embarrassment she caused hit Fresco as an embarrassment too? Serena didn’t get it. Connor looked fretful. <> Serena thought angrily, adrenaline pumping through her blood. <> ~*~ Rayelene Jacques followed her college-and-dorm-mate, Amy Gordon, into their shared Ferrari wonderingly. “Ames, do me a favor and... TELL ME WHERE WE ARE GOING!?” Raye cried, her eyes on the street. It was her twentieth birthday, and Amy had laughingly told her that she would have a present that’s “differenter than usual,” Amy had said, her eyes twinkling. “You don’t know how hard the reservations were to get! I had to throw all sorts of weight around. Belonging to the Gordon family has its ups, and I’ve finally found one of them.” Amy was the only daughter, niece, granddaughter, so on-- to a whole family of wealthy business executives, each a tycoon in their own field. There was the CEO of New York’s major hospital; there was the president of IBM, the computer company; there was the PRESIDENT OF THE US... Raye had had problems coming to grips with the fact she was rooming with the president’s niece. “Reservations?” Raye had interrogated suspiciously, flipping her purply-black hair over a shoulder in agitation. “What kind? Ballet?” “Maybe,” Amy had glazed mysteriously. Raye had ended up being pulled into one of the most prestigious manicurist places in New York, a world renown hair salon, and now Amy was driving her to some new, and probably very expensive, place. “What am I going to do for your birthday?” Raye wailed. “I’m not this rich! My dad’s only an ambassador!” “From France,” Amy sighed. “I really want to go there too, you know-- see first-hand the dances and war scenes and the Eiffel Tower and... the men...” A hint. Rayelene took it gladly. “Then I have the perfect idea for a birthday present,” Raye claimed smugly, leaning back against the car’s soft interior and crossing her arms over her chest. “And I won’t tell. It has nothing to do with France, though.” “Good I love surprises!” Amy said gaily, her blue eyes narrowing. Raye knew she was in for a game of Twenty Questions back at the dorm. She sighed. “Are we almost there?” “Yep!” Raye was speechless as Amy pulled into the parking lot. Her jaw dropped slightly, and she looked over at her sneaky friend. “Amy! I DON’T BELIEVE IT!” She shrieked, gazing out the window in rapture. “You better, Rayelene, sweetie. We’re also meeting Greg and Ken. And now... the history of Cafe Fresco... It’s the hottest restaurant in town, and frequented by THE most eligible bachelors! Prepare... to enter... FRESCO ZONE!” ~*~ Serena wove her way through the crowd of tables and bodies. The aisles between tables were really quite spacious; her problem was turning out to be the lush carpet; it was tripping her up, much as mud would. <> Serena though hysterically, her arms wobbling dangerously. “Buck up,” Freddie whispered back to her in an undertone. “There’s the table!” Serena craned her neck as much as she could without upsetting her balance, and indeed, saw a large table-- probably two shoved together-- with roughly twenty people. “Who’s bringing the rack to set these babies on?” she hissed. “If we slow down a smidge, Derek can pass out his trays and go get us some. We got drinks, so I told him that we claim the right,” explained Freddie, smiling slightly. Serena slowed her pace. In that moment, time slowed down, too. Way down. Until she could hear her breath. In and out. In and out. In and out. Then her heartbeat. Bum. Bum. Bum. Silence. Bum. Bum. Bum. The conversations, laughter, clinking glasses, and clacking silverware had been pushed into the background. Serena looked at the door. A pair of laughing girls entered. One had startling blue hair that could be seen from a distance. <> Serena thought knowingly. She had come to understand that dying your hair freakish colors was ‘a way to show your rebellious streak.’ Movie personalities did it often. Serena thought it interesting. The two young women met up with a pair of guys. Serena was feeling an odd sense of recognition-- a deja vu of sorts-- about them, but they had already disappeared, led off by a hostess to their seats. Serena’s head turned the other way. A beautiful woman, her escort, and a tall preppy sort of female were being shown to the table directly to Serena’s left. She recognized the pretty blonde as the singer “Venus”. Serena had a collection of her CD’s. Serena looked up ahead, at the table she was headed to. She allowed her gaze to linger on the men. One balding, two middle-aged with streaks of gray at their temples, and seven young. She observed these. A white-haired one-- another victim of dye, Serena thought-- with purply-silver eyes. A brunette, two blondes: one platinum, and one dark, another white-haired, and-- <> Serena thought, consternation puckering up her brows. TWO white-haired guys at one table? The second one had light blue eyes, so light, in fact, Serena would have considered him an albino if it weren’t for his tan. <> Serena thought in disbelief. <> It was undoubtedly a family reunion of sorts. There were gray-haired grannies and several gorgeous women, a baby or two, and one toddler also gracing the table. She recognized some of the women as big-time models, and others as actresses. A few ambassadors. She had seen them all on television at some point. <> Serena thought, pulling her eyes away from the dazzling jewelry draped about the slender, white necks of the ladies. The last two both had jet black hair and deep blue eyes. The difference was one looked younger and was milk-complected, while the older had a dark tan that made his eyes even more stunning. “Almost there, Sere,” Freddie muttered. In that moment, everything sped up horribly causing Serena to moan. “Serena?” Freddie turned around after setting his two trays down on the racks Derek had brought. He held his hands out helpfully. Serena had a pounding, throbbing headache. It was hurting her... so bad... so bad. Her arms involuntarily moved to hand Freddie the heavy serving platters. He took them and looked away as he set them down, then suddenly snapped back around when he realized that her skin had been so ivory it was translucent. “Serena? Serena!” He yelled. Her arms had crossed about her stomach, she hugged herself tightly, leaning over. “Help me,” she gasped. Her lungs were cramping up... she felt as if all the wind had been blown out of her. Pain. Serena began to whimper, but the sound was so loud it echoed through her brain, hurting her further. She silenced. Serena just couldn’t take the agony anymore. No human body was made for such torture; therefore it was used to hurt and kill. She collapsed, hands over ears, screaming. Just before her limp body hit the ground, she was caught. ~*~ Serena looked up. “Where’s... it gone?” she queried tiredly, referring to the fact that she now felt normal. “Does it really matter?” “Not really,” Serena sighed, sitting down and rubbing her temples. “Who are you?” “Does it really matter?” “Yes,” Serena replied stubbornly, fighting back an incredible exhaustion. “It most definitely does matter.” She finally looked around, taking in her surroundings. She was sitting on what appeared to be a baseball field, reclined near home plate. The field was abandoned. She could see the sun and a few expanses that appeared to be clouds. She could even see an ice-cream truck that had been driven onto the field to sell it’s cold dairy products, which, according to its sign, included yogurt, ice cream, and cheese sticks. The odd thing was: everything was a decrepit shade of gray. Everything. The grass was gray, the sky was gray, the clouds were gray, the sun was gray. It was really very depressing. “You think wrong, dearest; nothing particularly matters in this great world the two of us now inhabit.” “But... I want to know,” Serena persisted, attempting to stand up. She made it, but she was wobbly-kneed. “And I also would like to know where I am.” “Well... I am here, and you are where you are.” “Mr. Iam, or Ms. Iam?” “Not a name, dearest; I-am-here. A phrase. Three separate words.” “Oh... Why are you so vague?” “Does it really matter?” “Is that all you ever say?” Serena asked, irritated with her recluse of a host. “Because I’m going to bug you until you extend your vocabulary. ‘Does it really matter’ indeed.” The voice didn’t answer. “Well? Are you human? Or just a voice... some sort of spirit? You can’t be a spirit; I believe that God protects me from the likes of you.” The voice was still silent. “Hello?” Serena shouted. “I didn’t mean to offend; I’m just getting annoyed here! I’m going to be chucked out of a job for this... um... fainting spell. I’m not going to be able to pay the rent without that paycheck! My life will end! For real! Don’t you care? You called me “dearest”!” “Not a term of endearment, dear child.” Serena fell silent. Then she soberly asked, “May I ask the point of this?” She heard a sigh; a wind blew across the gray field, blowing the gray grasses about. “I do wish you hadn’t asked that,” the voice said regretfully. “I do so hate making people relive such things... but ask you did. And this matters.” The different shades of gray began to bleed together. Serena sat back down before her legs had a chance to buckle. The whole world twisted, as if it were being wrung out, and then began to settle down into normal shapes again. “In Technicolor,” Serena observed, looking down at the green grass, the dirty white of home plate, the brown of the ground, blueness of the sky. “And populated, too.” A few baseball players, early to the game, watched her wonderingly through the batting cage fence. She abruptly realized where she was; a baseball field a few blocks from the UN. She sighed. <> Standing up again, she brushed off the back of her fancy skirt. She grinned and waved at the uniformed players, realizing she had probably been teleported there. Looking like a penguin in her black-and-white uniform. “Hello!” she cried. “This is a dream!” She winked and walked off the field, away from the boys, headed for the sidewalk and tree-cover. The two baseball players never quite got their mouths closed until she had disappeared under the canopy of oaks. ~*~ Serena sat down on a bench, looking around in bewilderment at New York. She had gotten lost. “Goodness!” The voice was back again. “Don’t you have any directional sense?” The voice growled in irritation. And the world twisted again. ~*~ “What’s going on?” Connor yelled, shoveling his way through the crowd. “Serena’s fainted,” Freddie called back, hidden by the masses of people. O’Brian nearly rolled his eyes. <> “OKAY LADIES AND GENTS!” he bellowed. “GIVE THE LITTLE LADY SOME SPACE!” A reluctant aisleway formed for him when the guests realized that this was Fresco’s manager, and it was his employee who had passed out. Two claw-like hands wrapped about his forearm, squeezing him in their anxiety. The owner of those bright red, long fingernails was a woman in her mid-fifties with frizzy, rusty-colored hair. “Mr. O’Brian! Do you want me to call the ambulance? I brought my cell phone with me; when I woke up this morning I just knew something would go--” “Thank you, Miss,” Connor said, unwrapping her hands from his arms, “but the girl’s only fainted. An ambulance won’t be necessary-- some air and space, and she’ll revive and I can do a check on her to make quite certain she is okay.” The woman smiled reluctantly. “If you’re sure...” “Of course, Miss.” Connor raised his voice once more, looking away from the lady. “PLEASE, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, MOVE AWAY FROM THE GIRL! GIVE HER ROOM TO BREATHE! TAKE YOUR SEATS AND I WILL INFORM YOU WHEN SHE COMES TO!” Slowly and unwillingly, the crowd around Serena dwindled and returned to their tables. The small blonde’s “spell” had intrigued their minds; a movie-in-the-making, perhaps. Connor sighed, striding forward to his waitress. There was still a small cluster of people around her. Connor sighed again. Once a kid hit 16, they always thought rules and formally polite orders did not apply to them. Nearing the group, though, he recognized that they were all celebrities-- the lead actress from the hit series “The White House” ... a main model for a big-time salon... an ambassador... “Excuse me, but could you please take your seat?” He ordered courteously, walking from person to person. Finally, they had all returned to their chairs. Freddie and Derek had helped him herd them back to their table; they all sat right next to where Serena had collapsed. It had been their food she carried. The only one who refused to move was Endymion Leslie; Leslie was a famed singer-- a hobby of sorts, and a model. He wouldn’t leave the girl. “Sir, would you kindly go and sit down? I know you are worried, and you shall be the first to know of Serena’s recovery,” Connor promised wearily. “I feel that it is my fault,” Endymion bit out, glaring at O’Brian reproachfully. “She was carrying those trays to my table.” There wasn’t much Connor could do; Leslie had stood up to his full 6’5” height, towering over his shorter, stockier frame, and he was holding the limp body of his employee carefully in his arms. “I refuse to leave her until I am reassured by a doctor that she will be fine.” “Fine,” Connor surrendered, turning on his heel. “Follow me.” Leslie turned to say a few words to his family, then followed the manager into the back-rooms. Several women exhaled in gusty admiration as he walked by. He wasn’t a model and world-famous singer for nothing. ~*~ Serena, as that was her name, was groaning, twisting restlessly. Her body was no longer limp; it was tense. Almost as if she were having a bad dream, Endymion observed. Only thing was: nobody could wake her up. O’Brian had finally consented to having somebody call 9-1-1. A worried brunette who had refused to shoo, much as he himself had, had scurried off to make the summons. He leaned over her, trying to make her comfortable, just for the excuse of something to do. The room was silent, and an intensity seemed to burn in the air between him and Connor. Suddenly, her eyes opened. They met with his. And she reached out a hand to touch his cheek. She whispered, “You are Darien?” He nodded, too struck to speak. That was his nick-name; a pet sort of deal that only his wife and mother used. Connor paced over to them just then, and saw her open eyes. “Serena?” he barked. But he was too late. Her eyes had shut once more, her body gone pliant. ~*~ Serena was now in a hospital bed. Jennifer had come to be with her as soon as her classes had let out for the day. She smoothed back her friend’s sweaty blonde bangs. “What happened?” she wondered, turning to look at Sarah and Molly. “I don’t know,” Sarah answered, shaking her head. “Freddie was the only real first-hand witness, and all he said was she that was incredibly white and keeled over in pain. She was perfectly fine, though. He insists it wasn’t the weight of the trays.” “And have you seen?” Molly asked excitedly. “Seen... what?” Jennifer looked away from Serena, moving from the bed to sit in a plastic chair by her buddies. “Endymion Leslie!” Molly squealed. Sarah sighed in exasperation. “The... the singer?” “AND model,” Sarah mimicked Molly. “He is SO hot!” “Quit,” Molly frowned. “ And he is!” Her eyes went starry. Sarah sighed, covering her own eyes with her hands for a moment and shaking her head derisively. “Molly! What if he entered the room right now? What would he say?” “How about hello?” An amused voice asked from the door. “Good enough,” Sarah said, blushing. Jennifer’s mouth dropped open. Molly fainted. “Rats,” Serena mumbled from the bed, tossing and turning. Sarah stayed seated, restraining Jennifer as Endymion strode to the cot to peer at its occupant. She opened her eyes, but they were blank. Sarah gasped, and Jennifer got away from her bruising grip, rushing over to her comatose roommate as she attempted to sit up. She was pulled back down by the IVs and heart monitor stickers and pipes. “Serena,” Jennifer murmured soothingly, putting her hands firmly on her friend’s shoulders to force her down to the pillows, “You’ve got to stay put. It’s gonna hurt otherwise.” Endymion had moved back a couple of feet. Serena began to scream, her head moving back and forth, and her eyes squinching shut as she struggled to move under Jennifer’s tight grasp. “LEGGO OF ME!” She shrieked, her voice higher than it’s usual alto range. “Please let me go!” she quit her labors to sit, exhausted. She began to sob, her body pitching on the mattress from the force. Her eyes were still empty. As she went still and her eyelids closed, Jennifer moved away, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Jenny?” Sarah murmured softly, coming forward to try and comfort her distraught friend. “No,” Jennifer said, her voice breaking. “What’s happened to her?” She whirled and ran from the room. Sarah watched the door close. “She’s probably going to go tell Rob what happened,” Sarah explained to Endymion, her head still faced toward the door. “I wonder if he even knows...?” ~*~ Serena looked around at the new area she was now inhabiting. It was getting old, this dreaming herself from place-to-place. Her mind felt like limp noodles; it was over-worked trying to figure out this mystery. She stood up in random boredom. “Blah, blah, blah,” she informed the walls around her. She looked at herself in the mirror. And jumped backwards, hitting the white door of the first stall. There was no reflection. After quite a while of staring intently at the empty mirror, Serena waved her hand enthusiastically right in front of the looking glass, trying to deny the obvious. “Ugh! Is all I have to say,” Serena shouted, sticking her tongue out angrily. A middle-aged woman entered the bathroom then. She glanced at Serena, her eyes lingering on her out-stretched tongue in disdain. As she strode down to the last stall, the one furthest away from Serena, she muttered, “Young people these days.” Serena blushed and scurried out of the restroom. “Am I... Am I... back here...? Again? Rats!” She turned around slowly in a circle, taking in her surroundings incredulously. It was, undeniably, the hall that led to the conference room. Serena knew, almost automatically, from her dream and from instinct. People were pouring into the conference hall, just as in her nightmare. She spotted Ilita striding through the corridor, shouting loudly in her British voice at several men about their stocks and their male stupidity. She noticed Lita’s bodyguard this time, trailing along behind like a shadow. Serena stepped away from the bathroom cautiously, not wanting to get swept into that hall. She knew what would happen. She knew. Serena stood there like an addition to the wall behind her for a while, watching all the people strolling to their doom. She just had to keep telling herself this wasn’t reality. These were not real people. But still, guilt consumed her for not trying to get these folks out of danger. They were real enough. “Hey! Serena, it’s nice to see you again! Who would’ve thought?” Serena almost winced. The crowds had slowed down immensely. She should have moved back into the lavatory. Nobody would’ve seen her. <> Serena looked down. She was no longer in her Fresco uniform; she was wearing a business outfit like she had as a UN secretary. She looked ahead of her at a huge mirror hanging on the wall across from her. She saw her image appear. She felt her brain go fuzzy, and then she remembered only the details of her dream-life.. “Hi Mina!” Serena almost shouted, hurrying over to her friend and hugging her tightly. “How’s it going? Potty break, you know how it goes.” “Of course,” Mina laughed. “Come on! You can meet some new people.” Mina grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the guard station. “Hi Mr. Malachite,” Serena said softly. “You remember me, right? Donny led me in a while ago--” “Yeah,” Jon nodded. “Of course I do.” “Serena, this is Ami Mizuno, Darien, and Greg. They’re all here for the meeting, too.” “Hi,” Serena blushed, looking longingly at the door. “I’ll wait.” “Greetings,” Malachite said lightly to the group at random, then turning towards Mina. Mina’s cheeks turned pink as she was singled out. “Nice to meet you, especially, Dr. Lindheim. I know all about your progress in the battle of down syndrome and other hereditary diseases, and I eagerly await your next discovery.” Serena felt an odd sense of de deja vu , and a feeling of dizziness washed over her, causing her to wobble. She tuned out for a while, idly watching the people walk through the doors of the hall. She felt a sense of foreboding. This was wrong... it felt wrong... “... Serena Johnson.” “Huh? What?” Serena snapped back to her physical existence. Realizing the security guard was watching her, obviously waiting for an answer, she timidly said, “ Um... Pardon me...” “Mutual,” Ami filled in the awkward moment, dragging Serena and Mina into the hall with her. “I remember you!” Serena spoke up as Ami opened her mouth to say something. “Ami Mizuno, right? You were supposed to short-hand this conference, right!? But you got sick with a virus? I hope you feel better! I better go find my seat again. I’m very lost.” She smiled charmingly, moving away. “Of course. It was nice seeing you again!” Carmine exclaimed, Ami nodding, smiling, and wishing her luck with her notes. Serena stood for a moment, watching Ami and Mina walk off together, whispering and pointing. She grinned, knowing they were talking about those guys. She spun on her heel, and headed towards the shadowy part of the conference hall. <> she thought to herself. <> ~*~ Many minutes later, Serena had stolen some old guy’s newspaper, and his hat, too, hoping against hope he didn’t have lice. She was sitting directly behind Darien, feeling the horrid tangibility of death floating around in the air. She was shuddering and trying to huddle further back into the chair, nearly whimpering. The men were whispering together when O’Brian’s voice blared to life over the speakers. Serena was, by this time, fairly well along the road between paralyzed and comatose, so she didn’t really compute this fact. Time passed and Serena tensed to the point of being anchored to her chair, no conceivable way to stand up. <> Serena shivered, feeling the hairs on her arm and the back of her neck stand up. <> Serena curled up, tucking her knees to her chin, soft sobs filtering through the material of her skirt as she buried her head in her legs. <> When the first gun shot rang out, Serena managed to rise, knees knocking, from her seat. When the men in front of her stood, too, she tried to move further back into the comfort of the shadows. When she was harshly grabbed around the arms by unknown hands, she screamed. “LEGGO OF ME!” Her wail was thin and high, a soprano shriek any singer would be proud of. Serena’s voice broke, along with her composure, and she slumped against the shadow. “I’m sorry, Lady,” a deep voice said sorrowfully, clenching her upper arm hard enough to cause tears to track down her cheeks, “but you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Darien!” The dark-haired man directly in front of Serena turned slowly and deliberately around. “Thank you,” he said clearly, rising and coming over to Serena to clutch her hand tightly. “Just what I needed.” Serena’s confused mind was beginning to turn in circles. <> Serena began to struggle. “Please let me go!” she moaned writhing in Darien’s grip, constantly trying to re-attain her freedom. “Sorry, Lady,” he gritted, “but no can do.” When Serena didn’t stop her struggles, Darien sighed agitatedly, and, setting his hands bruisingly around her waist, slung her over his shoulder. “Hey!” Serena yelled, balling her hands up in fists and slugging Darien in the shoulder, “I told you to...” Serena inhaled deeply. “LEMME GOOOOO!” Her voice went dangerously high, an ear-shattering pitch, and Darien winced. When she felt his grip loosen, Serena smiled smugly. “NOW!” She went up another octave. Darien slung her down, hard, to the ground. Serena lost her breath, and felt a sickening crunch. She glared up at the man towering over her. “Why?” she asked reproachfully. “All you had to do was let me go.” “No alien is ever going to see freedom again,” Darien replied lightly, bending down to come face-to-face with her. “Especially not you, my Lady.” He brought his gun up, pointed it at her forehead, and shot. Serena didn’t feel anything. <> she thought indignantly. Then, she began to worry... Darien grinned, his face inches from hers. “5...4...3...2...” The pain lanced through her head, flaring, ripping, grinding, red-hot, burning pain, the likes of which she’d never felt before. Serena screamed as loud as she could, bringing her fingers to her brow and swiping at the streaming blood that was beginning to cloud her vision. “Why...?” she questioned weakly. “Highness, we have problems.” “What?” “The Lunarians poisoned New York’s water supply with an especially toxic acid that can only be found on the Moon, therefore unidentifiable on Earth. They have... have set up a bomb, too, my Lord. It is set to explode in... thirty seconds.” “What the--” Darien began. Serena lost consciousness. ~*~ Jenny looked up through bleary eyes as the heart monitor’s squiggly green line went flat and the beeps all ran together. “Nurse!” she screamed, standing hastily and running into the hall. “Nurse...” Author’s Notes... * cockerpoo- a mix between a cocker spaniel and a poodle. the most adorable dog EVER! * Vichysoisse and the rest of the Fresco menu-- these are all actual foods. @.@ I found them in one of my mother’s more... dusty cookbooks.