“…What do you mean, ‘it wasn’t me’?”

From the way neither of them were meeting his gaze, Mason could already tell exactly what Alice had meant by that statement. What the hell was wrong with him? Had he grown wings? Horns? He looked down, examining himself. He was still in the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday – too shy to strip down further – and it didn’t look like he’d turned into a slime monster overnight.

“Pranks?”

He was still entirely lost, and beginning to feel like this was some practical joke the two young girls had concocted while he was sleeping. Alice was certainly childish enough to have suggested such a thing and maybe Claire could have been persuaded to go along with it if Alice had been insistent enough. Maybe they’d drawn on his face.

The horror!

Mason cast each of them a quizzical look but the two continued to stare straight past him. It was getting a little rude, to be honest, but maybe they were just building to a particularly odd, amusing punchline. He waited a couple more seconds but Claire failed to provide any more instructions beyond a direction towards the bathroom, so he sighed deeply and did as he was told.

His heart raced a little in anticipation – maybe he had grown some cool new feature! Sure, it wouldn’t be fork-proof skin, but a tail or a third eye or something would be a talking point at least.

He checked over his shoulder to see if the others were following before pushing open the door and marching straight up to the mirror.

“Okay, let’s see what mischief you’ve-”

Was the mirror broken?

Wait, that didn’t make sense. Mirrors didn’t stop working like that.

What the…?

He spun around. “Can either of you guys see me?” He waved wildly and jumped up and down for effect.

Either Mason was finally losing the plot and succumbing to hallucinations, or he’d somehow turned invisible in his sleep.

Collaboration with Claire Elliot

Mason was very, very comfortable in his mass of pillows and blankets. It helped that he’d been over-heating somewhat and had to migrated to the very top of the pile, allowing for a particularly snuggly base. It was probably best that he had the floor as opposed to Alice as the couch wasn’t exactly the roomiest for a man of his size. This way Mason could stretch out, arms wide. When they initially headed to their respective sleeping spots, Mason was unsure about how quickly he’d get to sleep. However, once he’d achieved this optimum sleeping position above the blankets, he was out like a light.

The only reason he was awake now was because his bladder had decided that it was time to go and that it couldn’t wait until the morning. It was most inconvenient, but probably the result of one Blue Moon too many for it to handle. He had only himself to blame.

Blearily, Mason coaxed himself from the soft, warm pile and blindly guided himself towards the bedroom door, pulling it open as quietly as possible.

The bathroom door pushed open and Mason promptly had a small heart attack.

“Claire!” He barely managed to suppress his exclamation, worried about disturbing Alice’s slumber even in his sleep-dazed state. He took a double-take, frowning at the look on her dimly lit face. “You okay, C?”

She jumped when he bumped into her, practically flattening against the wall before putting a careful finger over her lips with a glance to the living room and couch. “Yeah… phone call,” she whispered. “What are you doing up?”

The hoarse whisper that Mason chose to effect was bizarrely theatrical, and he moved closer to try and reign it in. “I uh- sorry, I’m bad at whispering, I just needed to use the bathroom. Hope the phone call wasn’t anything too serious.” He frowned, unsure of whether she needed comforting or to be left alone.

Yes, yes he was bad at whispering. She gave a tired smirk and dipped her eyes down. “It’s okay. Was um… My dad. I’ll get out of your way here,” she scooted back from the bathroom door to give him space and left the bedroom door open for him on the way back - sitting on her bed with a tiny sketchpad and small book light to let her see.

Mason hovered in the doorway, frown still etched into his forehead. “Well… is your…” He watched as she sat herself down on the bed and pulled out the small sketchpad. Huh, he knew she was studying art, but it was interesting to see her actually doing it. Mason wasn’t really the creative sort.

“...Is your dad okay? Sorry, I’ll leave you to it, but just know that if you need to talk about it when I’m more awake then that’s, you know, totally cool.” He smiled warmly, trying his best not to intrude any further than he already had.

She looked up at him in the doorway from her pad when he returned to the room. “Yeah, yeah…” Her second was a bit quieter than the first, trying to reassure him. Or herself… It was hard to discern. “It uh… It was my parents’ anniversary today or-,” what time was it? “Yesterday, I guess now. I was on the way to the airport… He’s been worried. Will this keep you up? Does it bug you?” she lifted the book light slightly.

“I hope they did something special to celebrate!” He hushed himself, cheeks reddening. Hopefully Alice was a heavy sleeper… “And no, don’t you worry about me, I’m a state champ at sleeping on a busy mind. You don’t have to say any more, it’s okay.”

It wasn’t the time or place to make him feel awkward. Most times when people commented and didn’t know, she just let it happen. Another tired smirk lifted on her features. “Cool… Night, Mason. And thanks,” she offered and continued to sketch away.

Mason nodded silently, finally mastering the art of keeping quiet for that one moment, and left her to it. She didn’t have to thank him, he didn’t feel like he’d even helped… at all. But maybe he just had to get to know her more before he could sense such sensitive changes in her mood. The quiet ones were always the hardest to read. In any case, Mason could recognise a fellow enthusiast of hiding behind smiles.

One empty bladder and several giant yawns later, Mason collapsed back onto his pile of blankets, drifting immediately into a deep, weary sleep.

Somewhere upwards of 6am Claire finally nodded off on the pad with the pencil still in her hand.

Mason was amused by the fact that Alice had also been harbouring hopes of donning tights and fighting crime. He figured they’d be having a whole separate issue if she’d been the one to develop superhuman levels of toughness – they’d probably be holding her back from rushing out and tackling the first petty thief or drunken wannabe-combatant she came across. Mason liked to think that his reaction would have been a happy medium.

He smiled at Claire, pleased to see her having reached a point where she no longer needed to cling to him. It had been nice to be a source of comfort but it was even nicer to see her beginning to calm. Nothing close to the calm nature she seemed to usually exhibit, but much less hysterical now. On her way back to whatever normality was left available to her.

“You never know, Dom might have the same thing. He’s quite the showman, surely superpowers would come naturally to him if they could,” Mason grinned, only half kidding. “We all seem to have experienced a boost in our health. I’m afraid that one’s not exclusive to you, kiddo.”

He stood immediately at the mention of pancakes, taking Alice’s words as an open invitation to dig in.

The first mouthful was heavenly. They were inexplicably light for something entirely laced with syrup and Mason savoured the pancakes for approximately two seconds before his viciously ravenous appetite kicked in. He blinked and the pancake before him seemed to have been eaten. He cast suspicious glances at each of his companions before letting out a quiet burp.

Oh. It appeared that the culprit was in fact himself.

“You could say they’re okay,” he teased, rubbing his stomach contentedly. “Whaddya say, C-Laire?”

Mason felt disheartened as Claire’s wide, panicked eyes fixed on his and she asked her shaky, heart-breaking question. He could fake positivity for his own benefit – he’d been doing it on and off his whole life – but apparently he was unable to drag Claire along for the ride. He could understand her confusion and subsequent terror. This was like something out of a movie that Mason would usually really enjoy.

In a way, he was enjoying this moment, deep down past his own shock and concern for Claire. He wondered if this was what it was like to witness a miracle. For all that it was scary and irregular, it was also kinda… magical.

“Not wrong, Claire,” he began, his voice as soothing as he could possibly manage. “We’ll figure this out, I-”

Then Alice burst in, and Claire’s hopes of keeping all this from Alice were shattered. Mason still had the key held aloft, clutched between finger and thumb, and Alice took it from him before he could even begin to protest. Not that he really wanted to. Her ensuing enthusiasm confirmed his optimism regarding her reaction, if only briefly.

Claire’s face was still frozen in a mask of horror and Alice wasn’t stupid. She picked up instantly that this was far, far more than a (pretty impressive) party trick.

“There’s nothing wrong...” Mason reiterated, casting a look at Claire. “We’ve just made a little discovery. It’s easier if Claire just, uh, demonstrates. If that’s okay.” He paused.

“Claire?”

It was up to her. She could back out, call it a fluke. Alice would be disappointed, maybe even upset, but she’d probably see that Claire was keeping something private for a reason. On the other hand, she could embrace this, take the first step towards accepting it, and they’d probably be that much closer to understanding just what the hell was actually going on.

He cast a wistful glance at the pancakes. Claire was the priority right now, of course, but damn, they looked good.

The option of wearing something from lost and found was pretty unappealing – no matter how thoroughly he was sure the items of clothing had been washed and sanitised beforehand. He frowned to himself, trying to think of anyone who could help him out. The spare keys to his apartment were with Georgia, his neighbour. She could probably bring something for him to wear upon discharge – not that such an event seemed exactly imminent.

“Michelle Franklin…” he echoed. The name meant nothing to him. It was such an ordinary name that it seemed incongruous with the situation, but that was all. “That would be great to see her, thanks.” He gave the doctor a thankful smile as he departed.

The seemingly youngest of the three girls had moved to perch delicately on one of the beds. He looked up at Dom, who seemed to share Mason’s concern for the girl. He gave the black-haired girl a reassuring pat as he moved away from her side to sit himself down on the same bed.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Mason said softly. He gave her a tentative grin, trying to coax some of her earlier brightness back into her face. “We’ll stick together til this is all sorted out. What’s your name?”

Mason watched the other survivors with fascination. They were a varied bunch and he doubted they had anything particularly significant in common. How on earth were the dots connected? Why had they all managed to survive an event that tore him apart just thinking of it?

The two guys seemed decent – both impressive in their own ways but not in a isolating manner. The women were all quite young, especially the blue-haired one, and he couldn’t help but feel protective of each of them. He placed a comforting hand on the nearest girl’s shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. She looked a little off – but maybe she just looked pale in contrast to her dark hair.