Xaviers!

"Well, yeah. If Tereza and Viv moved away, you'd miss their support structure, too.

...

Oh, are we not doing euphemisms anymore?" Will teased after a pause.

"...well none of us are trying to replace your wife, here."

"Well, no, of course not. I'm just saying...

...you know? You don't wanna know what I'm saying," he said, artlessly dodging.

"People fill different roles, that's all."

"...you know it's a pretty dodgy proposition to try to keep secrets from someone you want rummaging around in your head."

Will bit his lower lip, and scratched his chin for a minute.

"It's also a dodgy proposition to, um...." he trailed off.

"OK, look. You're Samantha McManus. You're not my Samantha McManus. My Samantha McManus and I have a...different relationship from you and me. And I don't..."

"I don't want to make our friendship awkward by providing false expectations...." he started again, stammering. "I don't hold you to anything that the other Sam may or may not have done or said or anything, and I don't want, uh, knowledge of that other universe to come between us. I guess that's mostly what I'm trying to hide, here."

"I can appreciate that, I really can."

"I'm just making sure you're aware that, through no intention of mine, I may end up finding this out in an... altogether more fanciful locale."

"So, my options are to just tell you, and be embarrassed; not tell you and not have you go in my head, or not tell you and just hope you don't stumble across anything.

This is not a fun game of Let's Make a Deal, let me tell you," he sighed, closing his eyes. "Tereza didn't tell you anything?"

"She might have wanted to give you a chance to say it in a way of your choosing, at a time of your choosing."

"And I'm trying to give you that chance too, but if we're not careful the choice gets made for you."

"Well, strap yourself in, and you can decide how much you want to keep poking around afterwards, if you're so inclined, because this story gets weird."


Will took a deep breath.

"There are a LOT of connections between you and me, back home. You were my headmistress at university; you were an Avenger I idolized growing up; you were my shifting teacher and all these sorts of things. But you already knew all of that; I've mentioned those things before; you're comfortable with the knowledge that you were a kind of mentor figure of sorts. You also know that, over time, we became good friends, above and beyond a role as teacher and student, and you're comfortable with that, as well.

You know that I was....am the Champion of that Morrigan. I've told you about fighting for Her. I've mentioned the blessings she's given me, the tools she's given me to help serve her. I don't think I've mentioned that she literally, in a real solid way, pulled me back from the Pearly Gates...and that's something you're not yet comfortable with; the idea of being more than just corporeal, to have that sort of...power over people. Obviously, the cross-section between Goddess, Teacher and Friend are very complex to interweave, but if that's all it was, that'd still be fairly...simply, comparatively."

He drummed his fingers on the lid of the piano, not looking at Sam as he spoke.

"You're married, over there. To...well, it doesn't really matter who, but someone with a deep mystic history and background. And someone who has the...ability to see into the future. And she knew she was going to die. And rather than tell anyone this, she decided to take matters into her own hands, because she's a little brat at times.

And I'm made of clay. And not actually a person so much as an object. And she knew that, and she took advantage of that. Under the guise of trying to teach me some magic and mysticism, she turned me into a ... canopic jar, I think it was. Something like that. For storing her ba -- her, uh, soul's the wrong word; it's the, whatever it is -- stuff that makes a person unique. And she prepared me to hold hers, without telling anyone what she was doing. Plans within plans within plans.

So then, she died. You...uh, Sam couldn't get there in time, as she had foreseen, and she died. And we mourned, and we wept, and we buried her...and her ba, unknown to any of us, left her and entered me.

We didn't notice anything for a few months. How would we notice anything? Why would we notice anything? But then, both of us---Sam and me -- started to, uh, change. I would get flashes of memory, glimpses of us together. And, as a telepath, you started to...well, get feelings about me. I'm not a telepath, I can't really understand it, fully, but -- I mean, if you and Nailah were soulmates, and I had her soul, then..."

"We thought it was a mistake at first. I had a wife and a kid, you were still in mourning. But I was there, helping you through things, keeping you company, and one thing led to another...and again and again.

Sara didn't understand. How could she? We didn't understand. But she left, and she took Robin with her, and then I needed comforting, and we...held each other together. And it felt right and important, like everything was going to be alright.

That lasted for a while, until my borrowed memories became more prevalent, and it became clear that, as much as I remembered everything, the memories weren't mine. And Sam began to piece together that the feelings we shared weren't just because of our connection, but because her wife was still lurking, somewhere deep in me.

To make a long story short, we were able to separate her Ba from me -- again, I'm made of clay, and making people out of clay is a very mythological thing to do, I'm told. And Sara and I eventually patched things up, and you, and I, and Sara and Nailah and Robin and Aria and Miranda and everyone kind of continued feeling things out, and reached something of an...equilibrium, I'd say. So, most nights, I'm in my home, with Sara, as her husband, or her wife, or her blanket or whatever it is we feel like me being at that point in time. But sometimes, I'm not. Sometimes, I'm just down the hall. With my goddess. Slash teacher. Slash friend. Slash lover. Slash daughter-in-law.

And, all-in-all, we're all happy with the situation. Usually, at any rate. One big, messed up, loving family."

"Well that's..." she pauses, choosing her words.

"...I suppose I'm not likely to have a normal family in any universe."

"I'd say something comforting here, but 'normal' is rather overrated, at any rate," he said still not making eye-contact with Sam. "What's important is you grab the family that makes you the happiest."

"I'm getting a bit further away from normal, aye. And not minding so much, aside from this bit this morning."

"Which is why, if there's anything I can do to help smooth things over with Tereza, just let me know. I'm happy to play wingman, if need be."

"...you kind of have wanted to be her chew-toy for awhile," she smirks faintly.

"That's only partially related!" Will protested, blushing.

"The wolf's exhausted right now. Any chewing will be strictly metaphorical."

"This is probably a whole other conversation, remembering Viv's face when half of me suggested replacing your bed, and Tereza's face when she transferred ownership. And from what you tell me, Tereza's having trouble coming to grips with everything as it is."

"Tereza thought she was helping you get your legal identity back. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Will sighed. "It's a whole complicated thing. That is, apparently, my schtick."

"And well... now she owns a clay boy."

"That's not usually in the brochure for this place. Nor is dating a war goddess, for that matter.

Or becoming a wolf."

"We can talk about it and what it means. I think she understands that she's not likely to have a normal picket fence life herself."

"The question is, does she want one."

"If she does, she's not brought it up to me."

"Then I'm sure things will work out alright in the end. They usually do."

"Don't count yourself out, aye?"

"I'll do my best, but you know me. Ever-flowing fount of self-pity and all that. It's my main export!"

"To make sure we get this right, do you mind me talking to Professor Terrance about this?"

"I don't have to mention your name."

"No, that's totally fine. I trust your judgment, there."

"It's the first time I've really had a chance to plan this."

"And I've got a good arse, but I don't think I should always be pulling things from it."

"I mean, posterior power isn't something you usually see ranked on Avenger Trading Cards or something, so perhaps you're right," he smirked.

"So what were you trying to 'Yesterday' here?"

"It's not quite your speed. I'm more Power Pop than Alt-Metal, after all.

But no one here has ever heard of Zero Sum, and it's wigging me out."

His fingers danced across the keyboards.

"Don't go...don't go telling me you're all right
There's no room for getting uptight
Don't go saying that you're okay
When you're lonely
I said baby, don't go telling me we're over
When you know you're my one and only lover
And I won't go saying that we're okay when we're
Lost without each other..."

"Sounds like... Hanson put in a blender?"

"I mean maybe? I've never heard of them," Will shrugged. "Little differences here and there, I suppose."

"Like... three brothers in a band, I think? Little before my time but they had a godawful earworm or two."

"Ah, then no. These guys are a respected power pop band; kind of in the Spoon or Fountains of Wayne kind of genre. Hooks for days and all that."

"Okay Gramps," she teases.

"We'll get you a spot on the classic rock station."

"You young whippersnappers ever going to make an actual performance, or do you just like the concept of being in a band?" Will teased back.

"We've been practicing!" She protests.