Searching for You

A New Day

I couldn't get any sleep that night. I could still see the shadow falling over Chase and I as he held me close in a protective embrace on the pavement. Was that how Marcus felt in his final moments? Seeing the end coming and feeling everything slow down around him?

Why was I spared and he wasn't?

The world was a cruel place.

I woke up before Bree the next morning and had to work really hard to get her sleepy butt out of the bed. She was extra groggy because she didn't sleep in her capsule like she usually did, but one of those fancy pills Mr. Davenport sent along with them later and she was feeling like her usual self in no time. The pills did the same thing as the capsules but they were more expensive, so they were only used in moments like these; when they were on a mission where they didn't have access to a capsule.

I walked into the bathroom and started brushing my teeth, taking note of my tangled blonde mess of hair and the dark circles under my icy eyes. I had definitely had a restless sleep and it was really bad. I couldn't continue like that. I was running on reserves and felt like a zombie again.

I spat the toothpaste out of my mouth and rinsed, turning off the faucet. I pulled my brush my hair as best as I could and slipped on my glasses. I walked out of the bathroom and jerked my thumb behind me.

"Your turn," I told Bree.

She hopped up cheerfully and started her morning routine, humming to herself as she went. As I started running through options of what to do for the day in my head, her phone started going off like crazy.

I was tempted to look at it, but then decided I would just ask. Because, you know, I'm normal.

Wow. Never thought those words would escape my mouth in my lifetime.

"Bree, who's texting you?"

Her head whipped around and her face turned bright red. "No one," she said quickly, turning back around to finish brushing her teeth.

I sighed. "Girl, you've got a boyfriend, don't you?"

Her shoulders tensed and she spit out her toothpaste, rinsing her mouth out and slowly walking back into the room, sighing and plopping down on her bed. I could tell she was fighting a smile.

"Okay, yes," she admitted finally. "His name's Owen."

"The artist?"

"Yes! He's so dreamy!" She flopped onto her back and giggled. "He paints pictures of me all the time."

I cringed inwardly. That seemed a little obsessive. Why on earth would anyone want to paint someone so much that they do it all the time? I mean, I liked Marcus a lot---maybe even loved him---but you would catch me dead before you saw me doing something like that. I was starting to question the relationship Bree had with Owen. I guessed I just needed to meet the kid myself instead of just being judgmental.

After we finished getting ready, we met with the boys in the lobby, finishing our food. It wasn't too long after that before we were out on the road again.

This time, we were all alert, looking around to make sure we weren't about to be ambushed by the lone mutant again. The thought of that man throwing something that big at us again scared me. How did he know who I was? And even if he knew who I was, why was he trying to kill me? If it wasn't for Chase, I would be a pancake.

My feet smacked the pavement with each step, keeping my mind focused on the steady rhythm. It was a welcome distraction and it helped me stay on course with what we were even in New York for: My dad. I still had no idea what I would say to the man when I finally met him for the first time. Well, it wouldn't be my first time meeting him, but it felt like my first time.

I have no idea how old I was when he left my family.

Chase eventually suggested that we go into the local coffee shop and ask if people had seen him. It would take less time and would be easier to get a feel for what kind of people lived around there. We all agreed and headed into the nearest coffee shop: Stan's Café.

The inside of the shop was a lot like a bar; dark with long tables and an actual bar to sit at and drink your coffee. There were some people at tables by the windows on their laptops, getting their work done. I felt bad for them. Working on a Saturday must suck. 

Our next problem was trying to figure out who to ask for my dad. We all took a place at the bar and ordered. I got a hot chocolate along with Leo and Adam while Chase skipped out and Bree got a Latte. Once our drinks got to us, we sipped them gingerly and began to discuss in lowered voices.

"So, what? Do we just ask the barista?" Bree asked, sipping her Latte. "'Hey, Mr. Barista. We're looking for a man that disappeared over a decade ago, have you seen him?'"

I almost choked on my hot chocolate, but luckily Chase jumped in to save me.

"No, Bree, we need to be a bit more strategic than that," he sighed. He drummed his fingers on the counter, deep in thought. "I could try small-talking someone."

"Chase, we all know that's not going to go well," Adam groaned. "You're terrible at small talk. No one wants to hear about your fancy numbers and weird facts."

"I wouldn't be talking about math or facts."

"Then would it hurt for me to say that you're just a terrible person to talk to because you're so boring?"

"Uh, yes."

"Okay, all of you are dumb," Leo jumped in. "Let me."

He flagged down a barista with long red hair. He gave her a charismatic grin, even though she was well over a decade older than him.

"Hey," he began. "What's your name?"

The barista raised an eyebrow at him and made a point of looking down at her nametag. "Lilly. My name is Lilly."

"So, Lilly, my name is Leo. Nice to meet you."

It took all I could not to gag or burst out laughing. It was so painful to watch.

"Anyways," he continued, picking the at the wood of the bar, "there's a really famous scientist around here named Hank McCoy. My friend Chase, here, was looking to get an internship with him. You wouldn't happen to know where I could find him, would you?"

Lilly scrunched her nose and lowered her eyebrows. "Um, no."

"Well---"

"Are you guys looking for Hank McCoy?"

All of us looked in the direction of the voice and saw a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl who looked to be about in her thirties. She wore a leather jacket over a white T-shirt and jeans, her boots being black and sleek.

I saw Lilly slip away out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't blame her. Leo was being a bit . . . strange with that interaction.

"Yes," Bree confirmed. "Do you know him?"

My heart hammered in my chest as I waited for the girl's response.

"Depends on who's asking," the lady said, cocking her head to the side and raising an eyebrow.

I contemplated on what to say. Should I tell her about who I was? Should I tell her the truth or should I lie like Leo was doing? Something told me that I could trust her, but I didn't know what it was.

You can just tell her, you know.

I froze, trying to figure out where that thought came from, because it didn't feel like my own. But at the same time, it did feel like something I would think. Weird.

"I'm asking," I blurted. "I'm his daughter, Abby."

I wanted to slap myself. I had given too much away to a complete stranger.

The lady's mouth twisted upward slightly in a slight smile. "Then, yes, I do know him. But he never told me about him being a father, or a husband for that matter."

I couldn't believe it. Was it really that easy?

"Who are you?" Chase asked suddenly.

She pointed at him thoughtfully. "I like this kid. He's asking all the right questions." She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "My name is Raven. Raven Darkholme."