The acadmic tour in America.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Doktor Klaus Heidegger sat in a dark airplane flying somewhere over the Atlantic headed towards the JFK airport. It was still several hours before their arrival, and the whole cabin around him was sleeping. Even Jozua was resting. Klaus hadn't appreciated that she fell asleep leaning on him, but eventually he got used to it.

His laptop was the only illumination in the whole plane. He didn't feel tired at all and didn't care to even pretend to sleep. He was too busy looking at his own bloodwork. He and Jozua didn't have SARS. That much was certain. But it was the genetic map the lab techs did on his DNA that had him curious.

At first he was mad: he hadn't ordered them to do the full workup on him. But at the same time he had. Every blood sample that was sent to the lab was checked for all the usual things--markers for antibodies and immunities, white cell count, and the like. Every blood sample was also genetically mapped and catalogued for later.

Klaus was looking at his own DNA and was very surprised at what he saw. There, in the usual place, was the X-Gene. He was a mutant. But why hadn't his power manifested? He displayed none of the usual intriguing signs that most mutants exhibited. Was he a mutant with no power? It was very curious.

A stewardess walked by and asked him again if he waned a sleep aid. Klaus declined. He was not the least bit tired or hungry. When was the last time he ate? It had been that bowl of ice cream with Jozua at the cafeteria. That was nearly three days ago. And the last time he slept? He couldn't remember. Possibly some time last week.

It was accepted among his staff that Klaus never slept or ate. He showed no signs of sleep disorders or starvation. No one knew how he did it. Then it hit him: His mutant power had been there all along. His body was simply very efficient.

Klaus sat back in his seat and looked out the window to his left into nothing. He was a mutant. That changed everything.

[Jozua Cure]

"Ah! Hello, New York!"

The high voice was easily traceable back to the blonde companion of a somewhat embarrassed-looking European. Stood just outside the enormous JFK Airport, Jozua trembled with excitement and anticipation. Her hospitals had been in another state entirely; New York was a wholly different ball game. It was thriving, packed with people of all kinds, and feeling sprightly in her newer state of health, Jozua Cure wanted to explore as much of it as she possibly could. However, their hotel in the city (named New York again - how peculiar! Were they running out of ideas?) was still another journey away. A car journey? Nothing could dampen her spirits!

Bunching her little hands into fists, Jozua bounced on the spot like a child in a sweet shop, the smile on her face broad and immovable. Some people caught her eye; their names flashed before her in a second before they moved on, hurrying out of the airport to taxis and buses or else entering JFK's great gates. One such person, busy on his cell, bumped into her and immediately sent apologies spluttering from the two.

"Goodness - I am sorry!"

"Are you alright?"

Jozua lowered her eyes, careful not to giggle; American accents were something she forgotten, and still a little strange to her even now. She rubbed at an elbow, casting a shy glance up at the man. He was dressed in a business suit and tie, and a badge displaying a flag pinned to the left-hand side of his jacket proved her assumption wrong: Canadian. "I am fine, thank you."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, "First time in America?"

"New York, sir, yes."

"Well," he placed a hand on her shoulder, perhaps oblivious to her Polish companion, "you just be careful, okay? I have a daughter about your age ...and I just know that the streets aren't safe."

Jozua beamed, hands clasping low in front of her, "...Thank you for the advice!"

He winked, "No problem. You take care."

"Ah, I will!" Surprised and eager, Jozua followed him with her eyes until he stepped into a taxi and was whisked away at a speed she wasn't sure was legal. An interesting conversation ...perhaps, if they were both destined for New York, they might see one another again?

Alan Finch ...

Of course, the gift of nomenclature was a helpful one, especially when called upon like this. Not giving it away was another task entirely; yet she had had lots of time to practice such a skill while previously in the States - hospitalised and alone. Now she was healthy and refreshed from her nap on the plane, and feeling cute in one of the many outfits Klaus' secretary - Anna Jasinski - had chosen and provided for her: a plain purple T-shirt and jeans tucked into soft black boots that terminated a few inches below the knee. Already, Jozua found herself missing the lady - she was beautiful, intelligent, strong-willed and excelled at her job - and the secret smiles Anna passed on when showing her the clothes. Like Jozua enjoyed behaving as a child, perhaps Anna enjoyed acting as a teenager once more.

Behind her, Klaus was clearing his throat ...maybe he wants my attention. Jozua turned to him, her eyes inquisitive: "Yes, doctor? Are we going somewhere?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Yes, Jozua. We need to go to our hotel and check in. Then we will have all afternoon to see anything you want to see. Then I have a lecture tonight at ESU. I would like you to attend. Then we will have another day to see the sights and the banquet that next night."

He held out his hand and waved her over to him and their luggage. "We should have someone waiting to take us to--ah, there he is!"

Klaus handed Jozua the garment bag with his tux and her dress and he carried their other bags himself. He kept his traveling companion within sight of him at all times as he moved to a man in a suit with a sign reading, "DR. HEIDEGGER, ESU SOPHIA DAYBRIGHT LECTURER."

The man introduced himself as Professor Clutch and shook hands with the two of them. "Who is this?" He asked Heidegger when he shook Jozua's hand.

"Jozua Cure. A girl afflicted with genetic leukemia that I cured. The research I have done on her condition and her cure are the topic of my lecutre."

[Jozua Cure]

Clutch's hand was cold, yet comforting in its strength, and swallowed Jozua's own much smaller equivalent in the handshake he offered. With a small incline of her fair head, Jozua affirmed her doctor's introduction: "It is very good to meet you, professor."

The car provided for them was black and set low to the ground, quite unlike the ambulances Jozua was used to. While Clutch hefted their belongings into the trunk of the vehicle, her doctor held open one of the car's rear doors and ushered her inside, taking his place a few moments later in the front passenger seat. Snapping on her seatbelt, Jozua tucked up her knees to her chest and held them there, staring out of the window at the many people and vehicles weaving between one another. It seemed too neat and rehearsed to be real.

How will we drive out?

In the front of the car, Clutch was settling himself into the driver's seat and locating the correct key from a ring that held many. Beside him, Heidegger was quiet. Was he in awe of the immense JFK? Surely not; the doctor had been on several trips to America previously. Upon locating the correct key, Clutch slotted it into the ignition, a brief twist being sufficient to have the engine rumble into life. "So, Doctor Heidegger ..." He glanced into the rearview mirror, stealing another glance at the younger creature in the back. She was obviously European too; her accent betrayed that much. "Did you bring your companion as proof? If only all cancer patients were the same. She's a pretty one."

Behind them, Jozua's nose was an inch from the window glass, eyes like saucers as she strained to take everything in. The car moved slowly, Clutch carefully easing his way out of the busy traffic and onto less vehicle-choked roads. Each new sight heightened Jozua's excitement, her hands resting on the glass as the surrounding area whipped by. Streets lined with young trees, people walking, running, cycling, skateboarding ...

This place ...how will I wait until I can be outside?

Lying back against the seat, Jozua tilted her head back, a breath swelling her chest. Above them was a black rectangle - a sunroof, was it? - that was closed. The latch was in plain sight, and it would take no effort to open it and pull the sunroof open.

So she did, with deft fingers, pulling back on the moveable part until the roof was all the way open. The sky rushed overhead, the occasionaly cloud adding a dash of white to the pristine blue. She leapt out of her seat belt, arms pulling her up through the sunroof and onto the top of the car, where her symbiote reacted to her thrill, dark wings bursting free and whisking her off into the endless sky ...

Shaking her head, Jozua found herself smiling, almost dizzily, at the closed sunroof. A daydream. I was dreaming ...how long for?

She could not fly here; no doubt she would lose her doctor and remain lost for some time. Additionally, she had promised Klaus sincerely that she would not reveal her symbiote, nor the gift of her X-Gene to anybody. It had to be an absolute secret; while the staff of the Euro-Jericho Center knew of and understood her genetics, few to no people in New York, or anywhere they were headed in America would readily accept it. Besides, as her doctor, it was Klaus' responsibility to reveal to whomever he deemed fit that precious information.

Leaning forward in her seat, Jozua adjusted the seatbelt against her shoulder as she grabbed at the headrest of her doctor's seat, peering round behind him, "Are we there yet?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Yes, as proof."

Klaus' right eye twitched a bit at the mention of Jozua's beauty. She was in fine condition as far as physical fitness was concerned, but after the near disaster involving the young blonde mutant climbing into his lap, he was trying to stay as scientific about her as possible.

"Yes, her health has improved significantly since her recovery."

Klaus looked out the window and started to review in his head all the different tests he needed to run to confirm his hypothesis on his powers. He would need to measure his heart rate against others, a tissue sample from his lungs against a control, stomach acids, enzymes. He would have to see if his body created new cells or materials.

Then little Jozua whispered in his ear. "No, we will not be at the hotel for some time yet. If you are tired, you can rest. You can read the road signs. Or you can try to pick out the English alphabet on the signs in order. Start with A, then B, and so on until you get to Z. See how far you can get before we get to the hotel."

The girl was an adult in looks, but a child inside. Sometimes she was more like a seven year old than a grown woman. Klaus was secretly grateful. If she were more mature, it would make things more complicated when it came to moving her around and getting her to cooperate on tests and the like.

"Are you comfortable back there?"

[Jozua Cure]

"I am oh-kay!" Jozua giggled as the words left her lips; it was a word Americans seemed to use a lot, but not one she had ever really put into practice. With her child-like, Dutch-lilted accent, it produced an amusing result. Falling back in her seat, she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggles, other arm wrapping around her middle. In the driver's seat, Clutch chuckled.

"Remarkable. You're something quite special, Jozua."

The Dutch girl peered out from behind her hand; "Ehee - am I, professor?"

"Indeed." Clutch snapped on the indicator, smoothly manoveuring the car onto an exit from the road they were on. He took a glance at the road behind via the rearview mirror, and another at Klaus' charming little compatriat, who met his gaze for a moment and beamed. Setting his eyes back on the road, he pressed on the accelerator. "I think you'll be most refreshing at the party."

The party ...At this, Jozua relaxed back into her seat and contented to let her mind wander to thoughts of her parties as a child; birthday parties were busy regardless of whether guests were invited or not, as her large family were enough to bulk up the numbers of any celebration. When Hilda turned five, they had taken her to the nearest stables to spend a day among the horses. Being older, Jozua and Gisela had taken each of Hilda's tiny hands and led her from stable to stable, trying to lift her so she could see better inside at the equines she delighted in visiting. The day had concluded with a meal at home prepared by all four grandparents, and scrubbing a grumbling Hilda clean from straw and dust before she went to bed. Vaguely, there was the feeling of splashing warm water on her baby sister's head.

It was not the eighth birthday that Jozua had experienced a few short months after Hilda's day out with the horses, rather the following one, that fateful October when she had been surprised early in the morning with a puppy pawing at her face, whining for attention. The day whirled past with grandparents fussing over the third of the Cure children, the puppy playing with tug-toys in the garden (and later making a mess on the carpet), the meticulously prepared, delicious dinner ...and sleep. Blissful sleep in her soft bed, being kissed repeatedly by parents and grandparents, wished 'happy birthday' for the final time before she woke up to a new day, with Coby curled up close by, his breathing matching her own.

Less than three weeks later she had become ill, hurried to the hospital and her parents informed of something that made them both cry --

"Coby ..."

The car arriving at a halt jolted her senses back into activity, and she rubbed at her eyes, briskly removing the tears prickling at the edges. She unclipped her seat belt, her doctor holding open the car door to allow her to step out into the street. Jozua lifted her arms, the muscles in her back, shoulders and arms stretched into a more relaxed state, before she turned to look up at the building they had arrived at.

A small gasp escaped her lips, "Oh, my ..."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus took the luggage out of Clutch's trunk as Jozua marveled at the hotel. He shook his colleague's hand and hurried him back into the car. Clutch's interest in Jozua was making Klaus uncomfortable. It seemed to him that too many people in a scientific profession had a hard time keeping their relationships with patients and test subjects objective and aloof. Jozua would not be subjected to Clutch's non-scientific curiosity. She was so innocent inside. Too many people would take advantage of a grown woman with a child's innocence.

For some reason Klaus wanted to protect that. His eye twitched again at the stress. "Come along, Jozua. We need to check in."

The concierge gave Klaus one key to one room. Klaus checked his reservation again: there was only one room reserved. How could he have missed that? At least there were two beds in the room. He had forgotten that he usually took along the lead tech on the project included in his lectures. These people were usually men, and so the two would share one room with two beds. Usually if a woman was brought along there was a change made to have two rooms available.

The hotel was booked through--there were no vacancies. This would be interesting.

"Let's go to our room, Jozua."

How did he miss that? Usually he was neat and tidy on every little thing. How did this slip through his fingers? No matter. Jozua would have her bed and he would have his. He needed to find a way to get to a lab to work on himself. He had to know. He was so distracted by that revelation that there was not much that got his attention. It was good that he already had the Center under the control of his assistant administrator so nothing got thrown off kilter.

"I would like some time to rest before my lecture. Let's take an hour so I can prepare, then we will go see something fun."

[Jozua Cure]

To be back among American names was familiarity, but with that came an uncertainty as to whether she enjoyed it. Following in her doctor's wake, one of the smaller cases cradled in her arms, Jozua found her eyes flickering curiously to the passing porters and guests, registering each name and forgetting it just as quickly. As soon as the door to the room came into sight, however, she fought to contain her excitement and tottered into the room first, heading straight to the window and staring at the street below, the buildings across, and the sky above.

Having had her visual fill, she placed the case down on the floor and proceeded to explore the room, oblivious to the actions of her doctor. Like her room in Poland, it had an ensuite toilet and shower, into which she leaned, tilting forward on one leg to reach for the shampoo that the hotal provided. The bottle was tiny and of a brand name she didn't recognise. Placing it back down, she stepped further into the closet-like room, reaching this time for the towels hung on the bar opposite the shower.

She squealed, higher and louder than she meant to, and when a shadow fell across where she stood she spied her doctor standing at the doorway, the faintest trace of concern crossing his features. Instantly Jozua's face flushed pink: "Ah ...I did not expect the towels to be warm."

Clasping her hands, she pressed her knuckles to her mouth in an attempt to hide a shy smile, shuffling past her doctor and back into the main room. It was light and spacious, with two single beds equipped with tiny bedside tables. A lamp rested above the pillows, which Jozua padded over to and prodded at, flinching as it flickered on. Switching it off again, she turned and linked her fingers at the small of her back, soft eyes on her doctor. "When I was a girl, I used to share a room with my sister Gisela. And when Hilda was old enough, I shared a room with her and Gisela got her own ...because she was the oldest." With a small sigh, she lowered herself onto a bed, dainty hands gripping the crisp sheets. "And then I spent a long time in a ward ...there were always others, but none stayed for very long. A-and I like having my own room in Jericho ..." Her shoulders slumped, "Ah, that is to say ...it will be nice having company again. My sisters and I used to share secrets --"

In the next moment she was on her feet, so quickly it might have been that she had sat on something prickly. "Oh! I am sorry - I did not ask which bed you wanted to sleep in!"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Her antics in the bathroom were slightly annoying. But it was hard for Klaus to be mad at her when so many things were still very new to her. He appreciated curiosity and willingness to learn.

Then she wandered off back into the main area, where she played with the lamp and took a seat on one of the beds.

"You can keep that one, Jozua."

Truthfully, Klaus wasn't sure he would be sleeping. His mutation seemed to keep him awake and even if he were tired, this sort of knowledge--that of his mutancy--would keep him up until he had it all sorted out.

Klaus opened the laptop and sat on the other bed. He opened his lecture notes and started to look over them one more time. He had most of the lecture memorized, but he needed to be certain of every detail before he was ready.

He perused the outline and looked over the introduction to the lecture. Jozua was looking at something. Possibly toying with some small object or just staring at him. He hated to admit it, but in his quiet moments he appreciated the admiration and the total trust she put in him. She never judged him. Thought there was a small mixture of anxiety in it, he was proud of the fact that for the most part, he was the most important person in her world.

Klaus knew that he had the lecture memorized. He wasn't really sure why he was looking over the notes. So fifteen minutes later, he decided to do something he hadn't done in a long while: relax.

"Jozua, I'm not going to bother with my lecture notes. Come here."

He scooted over so she could sit next to him on the bed and pulled up a web browser, which he used to locate a site for tourists in New York. "We can go see maybe two of these before we have to get ready for the lecture and the dinner after. There's Ground Zero for 9/11, The Empire State Building, The Statue of Liberty. Perhaps tomorrow night after my second lecture we can go see a show on Broadway. Would you like that?"

[Jozua Cure]

"Ah - can we really do those things?" Unable to believe her ears, Jozua gripped her hands together and pressed them to her mouth. "I would love to!"

I am so lucky!

Leaning closer to the laptop screen, she pushed a fingertip between her lips, nibbling thoughtfully at it as she considered the options her doctor had drawn up onto the screen. Of course, she had heard of the Statue of Liberty, seen pictures of it, but never before experienced the real thing. The very thought sent tingles down her spine. She also took her time browsing the listings of shows; some were familiar from her reading and stories from her nurses, others she had no idea.

What is 'Avenue Q'? Her brow creased into the lightest of furrows as her eyes flickered over the accompanying photographs of bright puppets and their grey-clad masters. Weren't puppeteers supposed to pretend that the puppet could speak on its own? Or was it a play about puppeteers and their puppet friends? Why did the puppets not have any legs? ...Theatre is interesting ...

"Oh! What about this one?" Jozua pointed at the screen with more conviction, specifically at an image of two girls, one of which had emerald green skin. "I remember something like that - I-I read it ...somewhere --" She pouted her lips in thought, a hand straying to tuck her hair behind her ear. It fell away again soon enough, too short to be held in place effectively. "I remember - it was ...um, 'The Wizard in Oz'? No ...that can't be - ah! 'The Wizard of Oz'! B-but, this one is a different story - about the wicked witch! 'Wicked!'" She turned to face her doctor fully, eyes shining, "Please can we go to that one?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Of course of course. We will see Wicked. I'll reserve the tickets now and then we can go see the Statue of Liberty."

Klaus followed the link to the page he needed and reserved the tickets. He could afford to be a bit loose with his money, so he got seats right up front. "We will have a great view, Jozua. But we will ahve to dress very nicely to go this event. I will also need you to be on your very best behavior."

He shut down the laptop and closed it. "Let's go out and see the Statue of Liberty."

[Jozua Cure]

"Thank you! Thank you very much!" The Statue of Liberty - the French lady!

Jozua had bounced up from her perch and to her suitcase in moment, speedily unzipping it and pulling open the lid. Her hands delved into the clothes within - the choosing and packing process assisted by Anna - delighting in the touch of various fabrics and accessories. After a half-minute she freed her prize: a black scarf trimmed with thin tendrils of black and sparkling silver. Wrapping it around her neck, Jozua bunched it up high as Anna had shown her, and left the two ends hanging in front of her body. Freeing her hair from it, she glanced over at her faint reflection in the window, and then turned to her doctor, pausing a moment as if awaiting approval.

When she spoke however, she seemed far from shy: "Anna picked it for me! It is very soft and keeps me so warm! A-and I promise I shall be on my best behaviour - for our entire stay in this country ...I will be so good you will not even know it is me!" She brought her hands to her mouth as she giggled, lost in glee. Curling her fingers, she peered over them at her doctor, "And I promise I will try my very best in --"

Her thrilled tone died as she caught sight of the black lines, creeping like snakes across the palms of her hands. A quick, further check revealed the same happening to her upper arms, and as she whirled to see her window reflection again, her heart sank as inky eyes stared back. Her lip trembled, all happiness sapped from her system. "I ..."

The lines did not fade. The high feelings were gone, yet they kept rising, lifting like veins on her pale flesh. Fighting for breath, Jozua's gaze was fixated on her reflection, watching the blackness sweep up from underneath her carefully arranged scarf and onto her chin, cheeks and forehead. She blinked, once, twice, furiously. Still they remained.

I thought I could ...

Jozua Cure trembled on the spot, hypnotised, enchanted ...terrified.

"Please help me --"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Jozua, just take a few big slow breaths."

The doctor calmly strode over to her and took her by the face. "Listen to me, Jozua. It's going to be ok." While he held her face he took her pulse and had her sit on the edge of the bed.

"When you get too excited it triggers the sample."

How could he calm her down? What calms Jozua down? She was like a little girl most of the time. like she was 8 rather than 18 or however old she was. What calmed down little children?

Klaus remembered in medical school during his internship he would sometimes give shots to small children in the pediatrics ward. He never did much in pediatrics. His bedside manner was not warm enough for the kids, even if he was patient and polite.

Sometimes they would hold on to him and look away from the needle when he injected them. For some reason it helped them to have something to hold on to. Later Klaus would give them a teddy bear to squeeze instead of him. Close contact like that bothered him when it was in relation to his patients. Later on that dislike for closeness would spread to everyone until he had not a single close person in his life.

"Here Jozua, hold on to me if it'll make you feel better."

He couldn't believe what he was saying, but she took comfort in him and maybe her affection for him would reign in the sample enough so it wouldn't go wild.

[Jozua Cure]

"Here Jozua, hold on to me if it'll make you feel better."

Instantly her arms were upon him, one locking hard around his neck, the other pressed against his back. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on his shirt, gripping tightly at loose folds of fabric. Drawing herself closer, Jozua buried her face into the crook of his neck, binding her eyes tightly shut against everything.

Deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths - in and out and in ...

Her breathing fell into rhythm with the shaking of her shoulders; huge breaths shuddering in and out from between parted lips. Hot tears cut jagged streams down her pale cheeks. Fearful and desperate for control, Jozua gripped more tightly at her doctor's shirt, biting down on her lip as the familiar feeling of things skulking beneath her skin flooded her system with dread. She could not hurt him; would not. But it was so close, so close ...and she was hungry from travelling and tired of structure and routine.

No! My doctor is my all. He is --

A tiny cry, frail like a newly hatched bird escaped her as her wings tore free, effortlessly shredding her shirt and shooting up like prowling beasts. Her breath caught in her throat - no control - and she held tighter to her doctor. Above them, the wings curled at the tips like teeth, flinching as if smelling the air. With a slow, careful determination that chilled Jozua's blood, they bore down on her doctor, inching closer, one approaching each eye. Each ear. Each side of his focused, impassive face. Ready to rip.

Against him, Jozua's whole body was tense, fraught with terror. Everything was cold; her mind frozen despite pleading for no harm. Her heart thudded with such a ferocity it threatened to shatter the bones that surrounded it. Another beating met it; that of her own doctor, its pounding easily felt by their closeness. Her tears were dry and stung her cheeks.

They were closer now, dark and still. Waiting. Eyeless, yet observing. Mindless, yet contemplating. Voiceless, yet purring. A precious inch between them and the Pole, easily closed under a second if the need arose. Predators of the finest sort; perfect for any multilative destruction required. They had flown and dashed cans at an order. But there was so much more ...thoughts of the potential were intoxicating. Jozua's mind was drenched in them. Anything. I can do anything ...

Anything. At that moment. She could easily snap --

No! I-I can't ...I won't let ...

Her lip bled now, crimson trickling down her chin, the skin broken by her teeth clamped upon it. It would heal soon enough.

"Doctor ...d-don't ...move." She begged him, her voice barely audible, wavering, small, "Please - don't move ..."

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

Klaus drew in a deep breath as Jozua locked herself against him. He held on to her as well, and breathed in step with her with the hopes that it would calm both of them down. Her skin was very soft though against his face and she smelled very nice. Klaus mentally congratulated himself for checking in with the pretty secretary on what young twenty somethings ought to have to hygiene.

Jozua's wings enveloped him and he held quite still. He considered the tissue sample he created as it held him in thrall. He was amazed. Nothing about it was terrifying at all. He watched the wings curiously as they moved with Jozua's breathing.

"Remember, Jozua. Don't think of the sample as being apart from you. It is you now."

[Jozua Cure]

...And yet, he was not afraid. He who had given her this other form, this other part of herself, inches from death, was not, could not be afraid. The symbiote wavered, stock still for a moment before inching away from him, receding towards Jozua, whose trembling body threatened to crumple at any instant. She ducked her fair head, pressing her crown against his shoulder, her grip still tight on his shirt. He did not know, not realise - the feelings of hunger and brief, violent anger rushing through her veins like poison - just how close she had been to submitting to it; to peacefully be overcome by its influence. Rather that afraid, he seemed interested, pleased. Enchanted.

"Remember, Jozua. Don't think of the sample as being apart from you. It is you now."

Jozua winced, all frailties returning as the symbiote crawled back into her flesh, like a snake into a rabbit's burrow. ...No. I do not want it.

She eased her fingers from his clothing, drawing her hands to herself to examine them; once more, they had paled to their usual, unblemished state. Raising them to her face, she assured herself that the darkness had retreated from there too. RVigorously rubbing both eyes to ward away further tears, she kept her head bowed for a moment longer, surrounded by a protective curtain her own fine, pale hair.

We cannot be the same. ...I do not share those feelings ...what it wants ...it is not me - nor I it.

With a shadow of a shudder, she lifted her head slightly, celadon eyes catching sight of her doctor's face; But he is so proud of what he has achieved. She saw it in his eyes even then; wonderment, excitement. He was quietly triumphant of his defeat of her cancer ...and how could she deny him such a thing by rejecting the very same that had cured her?

Shifting her weight, Jozua straightened out her spine and tucked her knees up to her chest, one arm holding them there. She took in a deep breath - as instructed - and released it. It brought little calm to her nerves, yet with an unpractised determination she fought her body's quaking, bringing herself to some mode of stillness. Feigning calm for his benefit. Again, she cast a glance out of the corner of her eye at him, shame clawing at the edges of her being.

It wanted to hurt you, doctor. ...And just for one moment - I did too --

"I am fine," she brought a smile to her face, one which instantly relieved some of her doubts. She had not really been consumed by such an aggressive will, had she? It was a dream; Jozua Cure was placid and patient, obedient to every doctor under whose care she had been placed. A gentle, blonde wisp of a girl, delicate like sugar-dusting ...yet deep within, at her core, fighting. Always fighting. "Thank you, doctor. You helped me again ..."

Twisting her arm and reaching up, she felt at the tears her symbiote had left. Part of the shirt was damp with fresh blood - ruined. It would be good perhaps only for scrap fabric now, for crafts. "...Hm. I shall have to change." Her eyes softened, smile faltering, "I am sorry. I thought -- I thought, since it had been such a long time ...that I could control it." Getting to her feet, she crossed the room to the window, placing her hands against the glass. Down below, people filled the streets and car dashed about like busy, shiny insects. Up above ...a clear sky. Boundless ...

When she turned, her smile was bright, "If I get ready quickly, please may we still go out?"

She was surprised by her own happiness, the bouyancy of her feelings. Stranger still was the lack of remorse for her actions; not the symbiote - something far more subtle. It was strange for Jozua Cure to have little regret, for it was the first time that she had lied to him.

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Yes, Jozua. Of course we can still go out."

She started to pad over to her suitcase in her usual tottering fashion, but Klaus blocked her way with his arm for a second. "Jozua, look at me."

He waited for her big blue eyes to meet his cold brown ones. Then he lowered his arm. "I know what the sample does to your mind. I've been over the lab results. I know you hate it, but learning to manage those impulses is going to be very trying. I'm proud of you for working hard at it. And you beat those impulses just then. You're a very good girl and I'm pleased with you."

He patted her on the shoulder--still awkward for him to do, but he was learning to make the reassuring touch feel more geniune. "Now hurry along. We'll need to take the subway to the ferry if we want to see the Statue of Liberty."

[Jozua Cure]

"I'm proud of you ...and I'm pleased with you."

To remain in her doctor's favour ...all feelings of shame and self-disappointment evaporated in a heartbeat. Jozua smiled, shyly tucking away some strands of hair behind her ear like a schoolchild, and wiped the blood from her chin. As she had predicted, the cut her own teeth had caused had disappeared from her lower lip, replaced by fresh soft skin. Passing her doctor, she delved into her suitcase again, retrieving a dark green T-shirt to replace her torn, bloody purple one. She removed the ruined shirt, crosslegged on the floor and for once oblivious and without shyness as to what her doctor might see or think. Moments later she had pulled the new garment over her head and was smoothing it over her gradually developing curves. Since the boost in her health and the wholeness of her diet had been introduced, her body had not only grown stronger but had started late on a teenage biological project; the development of more womanly features. Of course, she would never be as shapely as Gisela ...

Looking up at Klaus from the floor, Jozua beamed; "I'm ready!"

*

Nobody on the subway seemed to share the Dutch girl's excitement, enthusiasm and total astonishment at the size and speed of the underground system. Her eyes searched names, faces, growing wider with her huge desire to take in everything, to drink in the information and form vast memories. Too overwhelmed to sit, she had grabbed hold of a roof tag and giggled gleefully when her doctor was forced to do the same by the lack of seating.

"This is ...how do you say ...like being a fish? All squashed together ..." She was mumbling to herself, although perhaps in part to her doctor to share his opinion. He did not seem nearly so amused by their mode of travel, keeping his gaze steady and constant on the map over the seats. Jozua's voice was drowned by the rushing of air as the train hollered through the tunnels, stopping sharply every few minutes to let off passengers. Jozua studied their descent - "Mind the gap," spat the intercom overhead - and turned her curious expression to her doctor; "When is our stop?"

[Doktor Klaus Heidegger]

"Like sardines, Jozua." Klaus stood in the subway. He held on to the bar over his head and looked down at Jozua where she sat. "Our stop will be the last one. It's here on this map. Then we'll walk to the ferry and ride out to the island."

In a crowded place like this, and especially for crowded places in New York, young innocent women were likely to be taken advantage of. Jozua made no attempt to conceal her childlike wonderment, which made Klaus feel more and more like he had to somehow associate her strongly with him so that people would not be tempted to try to divert her attention from him to their decietful ways.

Klaus would not normally be so protective of people, but she was needed for his lectures and he was concerned for her safety. He reached out with his free hand and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. She was beginning to fill out quite nicely into a woman. That much was certain. He needed her to stay in contact with him at all times so she wouldn't separate from him. If she were abducted he wouldn't know what to do. He didn't have his security team with him on this trip and did not have time to arrange a team with the American Jericho Center.

The last stop arrived and Klaus helped Jozua out of her seat. "Keep a firm grasp on my hand, Jozua. And stay very close. I don't want you to get lost."

They left the subway and walked the next few blocks to the ferry. Klaus paid for round trip tickets and they boarded the just a crowded, but much more open ferry boat.

[Jozua Cure]

Clutching at her doctor' hand with both of her own, Jozua followed him up onto the ferry without fear or hesitation, despite her lack of experience with water-bound vessels. The deck moved beneath her feet; even more so when the boat left the mainland and headed out into deeper waters. She stumbled briefly as it rocked; gripped harder on Klaus' hand to steady herself, and kept a wider stance so as to anticipate further movement.

Above the water was a sea of names that identified the boat's passengers as a diverse mix of races, although plenty of Americans were among them. Jozua's wide eyes flickered from person to person, picking up French, English, Indian, German, Japanese ...but none of her own. A tiny sigh escaped her lips; again the longing to be among her own people - or - or just family. Family would do.

My brothers and sisters, my grandparents ...mama and papa. A shot of rage, the feeling of shattering bone with her own power - a scream -- I'm sorry, papa.

Her doctor was directing her to look out at the water. One look at the man responsible for her standing on that deck, alive and healthy, was enough to being a cheerful smile to Jozua's childlike face. She placed one hand on the smooth, cold railings of the ferry, the other still interlocked with Klaus'. Beneath them, the water churned into snowy foam and spray almost close enough to touch. The salty zephyrs, refreshing as they snagged at her pale hair, were chilly to taste. Giggling as some spray speckled her face, Jozua turned to Klaus, tilting her face up to his. Softly, timidly, her rose lips let out a murmur: "Dziekuje."

The faintest hint of surprise crossed his face, and with a sudden blush attacking her own, Jozua hastened to explain herself: "Dziekuje - f-for being so kind to me! For doing all this and allowing me to help you ...Anna taught it to me --" For a brief moment the beautiful, hard-working secretary appeared in her mind's eye, clapping gleefully as her little Dutch student mastered her first word of Polish ("Very good, Jozua!"), and Jozua's shy smile returned. "Dziekuje. I am very grateful."