Immune (NaNoWriMo2014)(Wattys 2014)

3) Nag Nag Nag

Nathan winced as the migraine hit him with another wave of pain. Whatever it was, it must be urgent. Or Mother was just upset. Likely both, or what she considered both. She tended to get overly worried, blowing up a simple situation into epic proportions. In fact, when he was fourteen, she literaly blew up a volcano in the Ring of Fire. Why? He killed a drug dealer or two. Nathan still didn't see the problem.

His migraine was growing to a ridiculous level, commanding attention far more than it should have. Not that Mother could ever take a hint.

Mother, what the Hell! If I haven't answered you with whatever you want, don't you think maybe I'm not at a place where I can?

The headache pulsed once more, then simmered down to a dull throb. Nathan sighed, on the verge of collapse from the intense pain. Thank you. Was that so hard?

Knowing his mother could get extremely impatient, only with him, too, he made his way to the closest Root he could get to. That generally meant he would have to find a passage underground, but thankfully he knew a quicker area. There was an Uprooted in the wreckage of nine eleven, and while it discomforted him on a metaphysical level to step foot anywhere near that place, it wasn't even in the same ballpark as Mother's wrath.

He walked briskly to a bus stop, one that went straight from the Bronx to Manhattan. It took roughly seven minutes and thirty eight seconds for a bus to arrive, three minutes and thirty eight seconds after it was scheduled to come. A line had accumulated behind him, consisting of only a few people. He let them all skip him, because he only had a few cents. Not nearly enough to pay the fare, so he'd have to do some meddling.

Father, this could be so much easier if you didn't screw with Kiyan's Altar.

He climbed the steps and gazed at the bus driver. She seemed to be unfazed, and pointed vaguely at the cash machine. Nathan reached into himself, this time on his father's side, and unlike with his mother, it was almost a hassle to try and pull out some power from there.

Some things are kept out of time for a reason!

He grimaced, and the bus driver gave him a quizzical look. "Sir, are you -"

He finally pulled together a meager amount of energy, enough to accomplish what he needed done. He inhaled, letting all movement slow to a gradual halt. He then exhaled, and time reanimated itself. He walked into the aisle, the bus driver convinced she had simply zoned out, and stretched into an empty double seat. The bumpy bus ride began, and Nathan relaxed as much as he could in the hard yet slick chairs.

An hour and a transfer later, he was at Ground Zero. The area had been renovated greatly since he last visited; he had mostly lived in Ireland, but recently had acquired some business to take care of in New York.

The remnants of the lives lost here were nearly overwhelming. While Nathan couldn't sense specters or souls that remained - that wasn't his department - he could sense the organic matter of the dead human beings, the once living, now obliterated human remains that were left behind or hidden in the rubble of the terrorist attack. It was heartbreaking, really. He didn't take into account individual human lives, especially with the truly horrible ones, but a huge genocide of innocent people? That tore through even the strongest barriers he could form.

He could track each individual piece, match them together like a jigsaw puzzle, but no matter how perfect he made the body, he couldn't bring it back. It was simply something that couldn't be done - not even his parents could. Hell, even the Mother Tree couldn't. Maybe Kiyan's Altar. Maybe.

"Mother, I'm here. You can speak to me now," He called out, appeasing to the Uprooted that lay in the middle of the memorial. It was enormous, at the very least thirty feet thick and sticking out of the ground. Everyday passerby walked through and past it as if it wasn't there, which he supposed it wasn't for them.