[for Jessica] one love

I barely remember the lecture I just delivered, my thoughts halfway across the Island for its duration, a waspish voice at the back of my head saying Mary Jane won't be there by the time I return. I wonder how long it'll take for me to let that particular guard down again, all the while knowing I probably ever won't.

End of class isn't exactly the place to be having a relatively serious conversation, but it's the one time of day where I know I can get my clone from another zone in the same room long enough to talk. Even with things starting to thaw between us, we don't make a habit of hanging out without cause, and of all the people who need to know about Tabula Rasa's latest arrival, it's probably most important that I be the one to break this news to her.

"Jessica, you have a minute?"

[for Cap] missing puzzle pieces

There's a not-so-small, paranoid part of me that doesn't want to let Mary Jane out of my sight. Like my eyes are the one thing keeping her from disappearing to New York as quickly as she arrived.

It's ridiculous, of course. Not to mention stupid. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's that I don't have much sway over anything here, let alone who gets to leave or stay. But it doesn't matter. There's nothing rational about an irrational response. It's right there in the name. So when I leave MJ to her own devices to go meet up with Cap per plans made earlier in the week, it's with this nagging voice at the back of my head saying, 'She won't be there when you get back.'

Hrm.

Maybe we can cut things short. Heck, the only reason I'm going at all is because if I don't show up, he'll probably come looking anyway, and we're still short one reliable coconut phone service here on sunny Tabula Rasa. Best to just show up, let him know what's up, and then skedaddle back home. Should be easy, right?

So why am I so nervous? This is good news. Complicated news, granted -- the kind that kept me up all night with a cocktail of conflicting emotions, but at the end of the day, it's good. The sort of thing I needed after the past few weeks of hell, with Pepper nearly dead and Tony newly dying. But just like anything that involves me, it's--

Well, complicated. Already covered that.

(I haven't even thought about telling them yet. Don't even know how to broach the subject. I've got my wife back, but to them, she's just a strange version of a friend. Good news for me, maybe not so much for them, and I'm too selfish to consider that maybe they won't want to see her at all.)

He's not at the usual spot when I turn the last corner. Figures. In my haste to get out of here, I show up early. With a frown, I crane my neck to see if he isn't running early, too, but with no one on the immediate horizon, I try to settle in for a wait.

Try being the operative word.

Too twitchy to sit still, I stand up after about thirty seconds of fidgeting, and start to sing under my breath as I pace: "Oh, where, oh, where has that little Cap gone, oh, where, oh, where can he beeee?"

[for Tony] off I go

The Scrapyard's on the way.

It's the biggest reason I make the detour after my shortened session with Cap; eager as I am to get back to MJ for a few hours, eager as I am to make sure she hasn't up and vanished while I was gone -- and I am an eager beaver for both, I assure you -- I can't in good conscience just run right by Tony and not give him the news. Gossip travels too quickly around these parts, and I'll be damned if he hears this from somebody else. Because even though she isn't be the girl he remembers, she's important. If not to him, then definitely to me. And after everything that's happened, a bit of good news won't hurt, complicated as it is.

I just have to believe that Steve was right about what he said. Terrified as I am about her being here, knowing that there's so much I can't protect her from and that there's every chance she could disappear at any moment, I shouldn't be afraid to be happy about it... When I'm not too busy feeling guilty.

Ducking past the wolves with a few "niiiiice doggies" and some leftovers from lunch, I stride inside, eyes peeled for Tony amongst the scrap.

"Anybody home?"

[for Pepper] no light

It has to be said: I am not a fan of the clinic and the amount of time I have spent in here, for one reason or another, has done nothing to endear me to the place. Without cause, it's not somewhere I come to often, but unfortunately for me and everyone I know, it's like the only people who have more cause than me to come in here are the actual doctors.

Despite my personal hang ups, though, I've made it a point to visit Pepper at least once every day since she's been up for company. The thought of her alone here doesn't sit right with me, even if my stays tend to vary in length from a few minutes to a couple of hours -- whatever I can spare, given the day.

It's late by the time I stroll into the clinic, just after my last class for the night, and I'm not even sure if she'll be awake. I hope she is. With the news I have to share, I don't want to sit on it any longer. Not that I anticipate this going much better than it did with Tony. She's got bigger things to worry about than what's going on in my life, but...

She was friends with Mary Jane. A different version, granted, and their differences are glaring, but she deserves to know, from me, what's going on.

Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.

"Pepper?"