Chapter Text
Before - 2004
Myfanwy Thomas stared blankly at the wall. Her whole body has felt numb for some time but she doesn't know if it's from the sedatives she's been on or just herself. She pulled just enough energy to finally focus on the voice that's been speaking to her.
"...Myfanwy? Myfanwy can you hear me?"
She took a deep breath and looked up at the person speaking. The deep, smooth voice came from a handsome man in a three piece suit whose eyes looked back with intense concern. "Sorry...can you repeat that?" she asked, slightly shaking her head, as if she was trying to shake away some of her numbness.
"I am Pawn Conrad Grantchester. I work with the Checquy. I will be taking you to your new home tomorrow," he said softly. He gave her a charming smile. Myfanwy could tell he uses to get his way. It was perfect and calculating, a tool to be used as useful as a knife or hammer. If this was before the accident, she might've fallen for it but now she couldn't think about his smile or his voice. He was the first person to speak to her directly for some time (she had heard the word "quarantine" thrown around once or twice--a likely reason why her room went from being full of people milling about to what she thought to be a nurse dressed in a rubber hazmat suit taking care of her) but the last thing she wanted was to hear him. She reflexively looked away while her hands tightened into fists around her bed sheets.
"Where are my parents?" she asked sternly. The lights start to flicker. She vaguely remembers seeing her mother by her bedside, her face full of worry while repeatedly saying that everything will be all right and that it wasn't her fault. Searching deep in her foggy memories, she can picture her father in a hospital gown, dragging along his IV, holding her hand while she laid in bed. Then at some point she could see her parents arguing with a woman who had earlier introduced herself as Linda. Her parents' voices heated in anger that its unfamiliarity echoed in her head even days later. But now it's just the buzzing of the flickering lights and her heart racing out of her chest.
"I need you to take a deep breath, Myfanwy," Grantchester quickly replied after seeing the lights above his head. With one deep breath, she felt like she was being sedated again. She quickly assessed her arms--no IV attached anymore. So how is this happening? With each second, her heart slowed down and she noticed the lights stop flickering. "Your parents have agreed to release you to our custody to better help understand the changes happening to your body."
"I first got my period a few years ago; I think I'm good. I just want to go home." She leaned her head back and looked up at the ceiling. She was honestly tired of feeling tired that she didn't care that she just mentioned her period to a handsome stranger.
Grantchester let out a soft chuckle. "No, I'm not talking about puberty. Myfanwy, you have what we in the Checquy call an EVA or Extreme Variant Ability. This thing with the lights? It's all you."
"What? Being able to make lightbulbs cause an epileptic fit on a person is an ability?"
"It's more complicated than that and I...we are here to help you. Because of your ability, you will need to be housed in a school that can train you to control that EVA. I know it might not seem like it now, but this is the best thing for you and your family; and this is why your parents ultimately transferred your custody to us. Tomorrow I will escort you to the Glengrove Estate myself and see you settled in." She could hear the fake positivity in his voice. He'd be a good salesman if he wanted to, she decided. "However, for now, why don't you sleep? You'll need your rest for the morning."
She slid underneath her sheets and laid down once more just like she has been her entire hospital stay. "I want to go home..." she whispered up to the universe. With another deep breath, her heavy eyes pushed her down to sleep even if every bit of herself is screaming to get up and run.
After - 2010
"Myfanwy? Myfanwy, can you hear me? I need you to breathe. I need you to take a deep breath."
Myfanwy Thomas followed instructions. She inhaled behind her oxygen mask only to find that breath shaky. "Breathe. Please, breathe," the voice kept asking. Her numb body felt separated from her surroundings. The voice she was hearing was clear but as hollow as an echo, her mind was as empty as a cave. "Please, talk to me. Please let me know you're all right." She looked down at her hands. Her left fingertips had traces of soot, just as if she had picked up a piece of charcoal. No, she thought. Her body instinctively tried coil into itself. With her left hand forming into a fist, her right tried to do the same only to be stopped by another holding it. Their palm on top of hers and both of their thumbs interlocked, she hadn't noticed their grasp until now. Her instinct to make a fist had squeezed this hand which squeezed back with assurance.
Feeling with her physical body was slowly replacing all of the numbness that had been covering her. She followed the feeling from her hands, up her arms, to her neck, to her face. A warmth was becoming more apparent from her right cheek, wrapping to the right side of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned into the warmth. A thumb stroked her cheek gently. She took comfort from the warmth for a couple of seconds before inhaling the oxygen once more. Opening her eyes, she was greeted by a familiar pair of blue ones staring back at her. The blue eyes quickly went from worry to relief.
"Hey! Hey...you're all right." The hand cradling her face moved to wipe her tears away.
"Gestalt, I-" she tried to say. Myfanwy realized that it wasn't her breath that was shaking, it was her entire self. She took her oxygen mask off. "Gestalt, I-I-" Her attempts to form a sentence impaired by waves of thoughts coming in and out of her brain, and by the unfortunate fact that with each sound and syllable that escapes her mouth, threats of bursting into tears were trying to escape as well.
"You're just in shock. I need you to stay here and wait for the medic to check you out." To hear Gestalt's voice be so soft and supportive was out of the ordinary for Myfanwy, but then again this wasn't an ordinary night.
Her head snapped out to look outside the ambulance she was sitting in. "SHE KILLED HER!" she heard. "THE ONLY GOOD PERSON IN THIS ENTIRE FUCKING PLACE AND SHE KILLED HER!" Myfanwy focused to see her friend some distance away being held back by another Gestalt body. The familiar hand guided her face back inside.
"Don't listen to that. I need you to stay here." Worry creeped back to Gestalt's face though Myfanwy can tell that they're trying to fight it.
"Yes, Myfanwy. I need you to stay right here." Looking out again, the view of the field was now being blocked by a tall, lean woman. "Gestalt, please go help the other agents and yourselves make sure that everybody is okay and accounted for."
Gestalt and Myfanwy looked at each other. They reluctantly let each other's hands go and with their free hand, Gestalt wiped the sweat and soot from their forehead then pushing back their blond hair away from their face. Slowly they climbed out and walked away while Linda took their place, kneeling in front of Myfanwy.
"Linda, I-"
"No. This isn't your fault." Linda glanced down Myfanwy's hands. Instinct took over once again and she sat on them, hiding them in shame, away from Linda's sight. The lump in her throat started growing again.
"I'm so sorry," she said quietly. Uncontrollable tears started flowing down her cheeks while her breathing started to be ragged again. Linda replaced the oxygen mask on her face and jerked her head towards someone outside.
"Now's not the time to talk about this, Myfanwy. A lot has happened tonight and you're in no condition to discuss any of it at this moment." A medic has walked up beside her and took her right arm. Wiping down a small area with alocohol, it was dawning on Myfanwy what Linda was trying to do. She looked at the syringe being filled with a sedative then being moved closer to the sterilized area. Her body was being taken over by the familiar feeling of synthetic calmness. Linda carefully helped her lie down on the gurney and whispered, "You need your rest. We'll talk in the morning."
She could feel her eyelids getting heavy. Her gut told her to run away but a part of her was willing to succumb to the incoming sleep. Maybe I'll wake up and it'll all be a dream. Maybe none of this is real. From where her head laid she saw the brightness of the fire she caused. Her home for the past six years was burning to the ground. Glengrove was gone.