the Poi Happy Ending Challenge

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel Comics and are being used for non-profit entertainment only. The story belongs to me.

    She is happy. For the first time in as long as she can remember, as far as she can think back, she is truly happy. And it's not because of anything that was given to her, or made for her, but from something she has done, from her own triumph.

    There is a smile stretched across her face that's as wide as the Nile is long. Tears of happiness, of sheer and utter joy, collect in the corners of her blue eyes to eventually trickle down her face.

    Has it really been so long since she felt this good, this special?

    With a shaking hand she reaches for the microphone and says, "I always wanted this, y'know. I always wanted to be here. Thank you. Thank you all for making my dream a reality. Thank you." Her last words fade into barely audible whispers and you can feel the crowd hold it's breath.

    They're waiting. Waiting for her to shine, to prove the rumors, the legends, true. They want to see the star in the night, the lightengale, the Dazzler.

    One voice floats above the others when it screams out, "Come on, Ali!"

    Alison Blaire stares out into the patchwork quilt of faces and catches her laughter with her hand. "H'lo," she calls. "I didn't expect to see you here."

    Rogue just smiles and nods at the people around her. "They're waiting, Ali. Waitin' for ya to dazzle `em."

    "Well, I can't leave my public waiting," Alison replies and waves her band to start the music.

    The sweet sounds enfold her, tightly, and the guitar sings its solo. Malcolm fussed so much about that solo but now it's over, gone, faded into the black depths of the night and Lare has kicked in the piano. Now it's her turn to take up the center stage. Slowly, Alison brings the microphone to her lips and begins to sing.

    <I never left the night without you/I followed so close behind your feet/We tripped over rocks and a few mountains/But we always rested by the creek>

    The audience is enthralled, held by some spell crafted from her voice, just her regular, human voice. No fancy powers here, no sparks, or lasers, just her, shinning the way she always wanted to shine. So happy. Content.

    Lare's fingers dance frantically over her keyboards as tears run down her face, turning blue and black from the eyeshadow and mascara. Before now, she has never heard Ali really sing. Before, in practice she had always held back, so scared that she'd mess up a line, or sing the wrong note. Now, the girl is alive!

    <I ran behind you/So close as you flew away/I searched at night but couldn't find you/Now I don't run after dreams>

    Alison finishes the last verse and, while Malcolm swings into another heavy guitar solo, she calls upon her powers as Dazzler and shines. The lights flicker once through the spectrum and then begin a slow melodic dance in time with the music. The lightengale is back, the star still shinning.

    Malcolm's guitar notes fade into the silence and, once again, the sad, sweet piano can be heard playing whatever comes from Lare's fingertips. And, as the music begins to slow, Alison's lights and effects die down until she uses the last of her power to create a butterfly made from every color that hangs in the air, shimmering into nothingness, for five full minutes.

    The crowd goes wild, hooting and shouting, "Encore." Their eyes are still dazed from the light show and each one has the song "Morning Bug" still stuck in their head. But it's like a drug, her voice, and they need more, they have to have more.

    Alison smiles at them, waves her hand, and walks slowly offstage. No extra songs tonight, no more effects. She's had the life where other people made every decision, by pressure from them. She's tired of that. Now, she is on her own.

    Lare stops her with a hand on her arm and Ali turns to look at the younger womans face. A smile plays across Lare's dark skin and wisps of her black hair are plastered on her forehead. "I knew you had it in you, Ali," she says.

    "I know. It just took so long," Alison replies and walks away from the shorter woman. One of her hands absently brushes through her short, honey blond hair. It has been a long night.

    "Mommy, mommy, you were wonderful," a young voice cries out and she turns to see her family standing there waiting for her.

    "Thanks, sweetheart," she exclaims as she lifts the child into her arms and hugs him. Her son. Hers. And he's here. The time dancing witch didn't steal him, didn't take him stillborn from her womb to shape him as she wished. He is here, safe in his mother's arms.

    "I want to go talk to Auntie Rogue," the young boy proclaims as he wriggles from his mother's grip.

    "That's fine," Alison replies and watches him run off. He has her hair and her eyes but his father's star tattoo and light bones.

    Arms wrap around her waist and a voice whispers in her ear, "Isn't this a wonderful dream, Alison?"

    She slowly frees herself from the arms and turns around to face her husband. His eyes are light blue, full of love, of caring, and he looks at her in such a way that makes her heart beat faster, ever faster. The fans blow his light blond hair here and there about his sharp, angular face. After a minute, she places her palm on his cheek and tells him, "This isn't a dream, Longshot. This is real. This is real." Alison repeats it, as if to make sure that she believes it is actually real.

    Now it is his turn to smile that wonderfully childish smile and kiss her cheek. Then he says, very quietly, "I know it is. I know it is."

    And she no longer worries about dark spaces, or a rebellion, or not making the grade because she is happy for the first time in her life. Truly happy.