No Place Like Home

Ashlynn Par

Seamus

"Seamus?"

"Ash! You're awake!"

"How did I...?"

"You passed out at the art school. I brought you to my place, but you've been out for more than three hours! I was so worried!"

"You didn't call the police, did you?" Real fear shone in her eyes. "Please tell me you didn't call the police."

"No, I - normally I would but, I don't know, I didn't. It just didn't seem like a good idea." Ash relaxed visibly. "Why is that so important?"

"Well, I bet the police would be very interested in me. There aren't many supers around here, are there." Seamus smiled. If she was making jokes, then surely she must be ok.

"So, you're ok? What happened back there? Why did you faint?" A guarded look came across her face, and Seamus could see that he wasn't getting answers without a fight. "Come on. You collapsed mid sentence and didn't even bother to wake up for our date." Seamus blushed. "You, well, you at least owe me some answers.

"Seamus, I can't -"

"If you're about to say 'I can't tell you,' then I suggest you reconsider."

"Alright."

"Really?"

"You're right. You deserve answers. But you can't tell anyone. Promise me?"

"Um, sure."

"I'm serious."

"I promise not to tell anyone your secret."

"Alright. Just over a year ago, I lived in the USA with my family."

"That explains the accent." Ash gave him a look. "Sorry, I wont interrupt. Continue."

"I was happy there, even though I didn't have many friends. Or any, actually. Real ones, that is. Is never made friends because I never needed any. I had my art. You have to understand, my art was different there. It was so lifelike that it was alive. Kind of. It wasn't alive in a machine, AI, way, like the toys, it was alive in the magical way. Like supers. So whenever I needed a friend, I drew one. It was like, like Harry Potter. The portraits were alive. I could talk to them. They could walk into other portraits. It was basically Harry Potter. Except in a different universe. But we'll get to that. I had 199 sketchbooks full of these friends. I never went anywhere without my sketchbook.

"I was halfway through my 200th sketchbook when it happened. The fire. I woke up to the smell of smoke. My whole bedroom was on fire. I don't know how it started. It was probably my little brother. He's too young to have any control. It really wasn't his fault. But I was trapped. The fire was everywhere. I couldn't get out.

"It was never just the art that was my power. It was the materials, too. I never created the art, I simply revealed it. I listened to its music, and pulled it from its page. Why shouldn't the fire be any different? It was an idea I had been playing with for a while, well, two ideas, really. The idea of working with different materials, like fire, and the idea of interacting with my artwork. The other day, I had given one of my friends a high-five. I'n not sure if I reached in, or if he reached out, but I had to do it again, and on a much larger scale this time. It took me several tries, but I pulled the fire out and wove it into a door. Or rather, I pulled the door from the fire. I didn't know where it went, only that it was someplace safe. Someplace far away. It ended up being a little too far. I went through the fire door in my bedroom, and came out in London."

"So you're telling me that you are a super who can bring her art to life like in Harry Potter and create magical teleporting doors out of fire? I think I would know if supers were real." It was ridiculous. But Ashlynn had such a solemn expression, it was hard not to believe her.

"It took me a while to figure it out, too. Why it's so different here. Why there are movies about my world, my family, even. Why everyone thinks the idea of toys coming alive is fiction. Why toys don't come alive. Why there are no supers around. I didn't just come from the USA, Seamus. I came from another universe. More specifically, the Pixar universe, as you call it here."

"Look, Ash. You tell a great story, but seriously? I just don't believe you. I can't. You owe me real answers." All of a sudden Ash started to cry. "No, please don't, I, no, Ash, please, don't cry."

"This is why I haven't told anyone. Why I don't have any friends. I don't even have my art anymore. I thought you were different. I thought we could be friends. Real friends. I thought I could talk to you. But what did I expect? It sounds ridiculous to me too. No one will ever believe me. You're the first friend I've let myself make since I got here, and now I've gone and screwed it up."

"Please stop crying Ash. I never know what to do when girls cry."

"Please believe me, Seamus. If anyone can help me get home, you can." He nodded slowly.

"I'm prepared to believe you, Ash. I'd like to. But I'm going to need more than a story. Can you show me your art?" Ash's face fell.

"I can't. Magic here is incredibly dangerous, Seamus. My dad explained it all to me when I first started showing powers. At home, the air contains an element called incronium. When the government created supers, they changed our DNA so that we could access the magic at the heart of the world through the incronium in the air, and then channel it through our bodies in different ways. As far as I can tell, there is no incronium in your atmosphere, maybe even your entire world. So I can't use my powers, and I can't get home."

"Right... But why did you collapse?"

"I used my powers." Seamus opened his mouth to object, but Ash continued before he could. "Not really, not properly. Just enough to make a nice painting. It won't come alive or anything. Without incronium, the only option is to tap into the magic directly from my own energy and life force. As the magic passes through me, it burns up said energy. And life force. That's what the incronium is for. Used in the tiny amounts it takes to be a good artist, the magic only really makes me hungry and puts me in a bit of a trance. But I got carried away. I was so anxious to get away from my life and just paint that I lost control and used to much magic. I'm just glad I was able to stop when I did. The magic required to open a door home, it would kill me." Seamus took a deep breath.

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok."

"You believe me?"

"I think I just might. One question. What's your name?" This time she smiled.

"Ashlynn Scarlett Par." Seamus nodded as if this made sense. Perhaps it did.

"Alright. But you still owe me that date." Ash laughed.

"Deal. And you, Seamus, are going to get me home."

"Deal."