[There's a whisper in his head that says no. There's a part of him that wants this to be real so badly. Maybe Billy just used magic to make their wings, her scent, all of that go away, maybe they're actually here, maybe his mom is alive and he can talk to her about everything and apologize for being a screw-up of a son and ask her so many questions that only she can answer. Maybe he can hug her and never let go. Wouldn't that be something, to be wrapped up in a mother's embrace again? One of the things he'd missed so terribly and longed to feel again?
But... she's not even acting like her. She - Sarah Altman is only acting the way Billy thinks she'd act when Teddy's upset, because he's never seen it happen in their household. How she'd stroke his hair and look him in the eyes, those eyes that could tell exactly how he felt no matter how much he hid it, and asked what was wrong, and even if he didn't answer, she wouldn't push for it. She'd just smile and spend time with him, watch a movie or a show with him, eat with him, joke with him and make him laugh, until whatever was bothering him just didn't anymore. He felt so comfortable with her that sometimes the reason for it would just slip out, and they would talk about it until Teddy had enough, and it was okay.
She was there when he hurt someone, badly, for the first time with his strength, when he was only a child who didn't know his own strength. She found ways to help him, never making a big deal if he broke something, just patiently worked with him until he learned to start controlling it himself.
She was there when he discovered his shapeshifting powers, never knowing he had them and was constantly using them until he did something major to his body and didn't know how to make it stop. This, she knew how to handle. She eased him back to his own shape, and when he cried so much he could barely breathe due to being some kind of monster, something immensely different from the others, she raised his chin and told him he was a mutant. It wasn't the truth. But it gave him a sense of belonging, a group to identify with, and in that moment, that was what he needed the most.
This illusion wouldn't do that. She isn't doing that. It's not her, it's not her, it's not her.
It's why that whisper barely grazes his mind, why a loud and resounding yes is there instead.
It's not her.]
Yes, god - [He can see her standing there, looking at him with hurt, and he buries his face in his knees and grips his hair enough to hurt.] Stop!
[Action, October 25th]
But... she's not even acting like her. She - Sarah Altman is only acting the way Billy thinks she'd act when Teddy's upset, because he's never seen it happen in their household. How she'd stroke his hair and look him in the eyes, those eyes that could tell exactly how he felt no matter how much he hid it, and asked what was wrong, and even if he didn't answer, she wouldn't push for it. She'd just smile and spend time with him, watch a movie or a show with him, eat with him, joke with him and make him laugh, until whatever was bothering him just didn't anymore. He felt so comfortable with her that sometimes the reason for it would just slip out, and they would talk about it until Teddy had enough, and it was okay.
She was there when he hurt someone, badly, for the first time with his strength, when he was only a child who didn't know his own strength. She found ways to help him, never making a big deal if he broke something, just patiently worked with him until he learned to start controlling it himself.
She was there when he discovered his shapeshifting powers, never knowing he had them and was constantly using them until he did something major to his body and didn't know how to make it stop. This, she knew how to handle. She eased him back to his own shape, and when he cried so much he could barely breathe due to being some kind of monster, something immensely different from the others, she raised his chin and told him he was a mutant. It wasn't the truth. But it gave him a sense of belonging, a group to identify with, and in that moment, that was what he needed the most.
This illusion wouldn't do that. She isn't doing that. It's not her, it's not her, it's not her.
It's why that whisper barely grazes his mind, why a loud and resounding yes is there instead.
It's not her.]
Yes, god - [He can see her standing there, looking at him with hurt, and he buries his face in his knees and grips his hair enough to hurt.] Stop!