Visions and Revisions

[Cobalt Weaver]

Do I dare disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse

- TS Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

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October 1979

Albert Walkin sighed, looking at the student slouched in the chair across from him. This boy was going to give him more gray hairs than any other student in this school. And that included the pyrokinetic that enjoyed lighting fetal pigs on fire. He needed to have a talk with that boy too.

“Well, Mr. Weaver, I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here again,” Albert sighed, his grey eyes looking at the boy with stern affection. “What I will say is that I almost admire your perseverance. You’re awfully good at finding ways around our security, aren’t you?”

Cobalt shrugged, his bony shoulders almost peeking out of his too-big shirt. Didn’t that boy ever get clothes that fit? Albert leaned back, gesturing at the bowl of candy in the corner, “Well, go on; I know you want some.”

Without a word, the boy’s thin hand shot out, grabbed a chocolate and popped it into his mouth. Oddly, candy had a remarkably calming effect on the child, and Albert watched as Cobalt relaxed ever so slightly. There was a reason that Albert kept candy in his office, and it wasn’t because he himself liked to eat some. Even if that was also true. Albert waited until Cobalt was done eating before leaning forward, folding his hands on his desk.

“Cobalt, I want to understand this. Really, I do.” His gaze grew concerned as he looked at the boy. “You’re obviously unhappy here at Hammel, and I’d like to know why. This is the fifth time you’ve tried to run away since you came here two years ago, you’re at the top of your classes, but you don’t seem to have any friends, I’d like to know what you want from us, so that we can start working together.”

Cobalt looked back at him, with blue eyes just a little too big for his pinched face. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his knees. Albert waited patiently, hoping that Cobalt would allow the older man some insight into what was bothering him so.

Finally, Cobalt looked up at him and shrugged. Albert sighed. “All right then, Mr. Weaver,” He had to admit, he was disappointed. He wanted to help this boy; he was clearly intelligent and a driven student, but he wasn’t happy. Above all else, he wanted his students to be safe and happy. “Detention it is then. Also, no trips to the town. For a week. I hope this will deter you from doing this again, but I suspect not.” He ran a hand through his graying, thinning hair, “To be honest, I worry about you, Cobalt. I do. I know you don’t think anybody here cares about what you think, but I’d certainly like to know.” When Cobalt said nothing, Albert sighed again, “You’re dismissed, Cobalt. Go see Anita about your detention.”

As he watched the boy walk out of the office, a trail of shadow following behind, Albert shook his head before asking his assistant to see in the next student. The pyrokinetic with an enjoyment for burning fetal pigs. Glorious.

[Cobalt Weaver]

It's a fine thing to be honest. But it is also very important to be right

-Winston Churchhill

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November 1991

“This is insane. We have got to be out of our minds.” A blonde man with a square jaw and blue eyes glanced back and forth nervously as his skinny, angular looking companion knelt on a doorstep, fiddling with a lock. “You realize that we could get arrested, Cobalt? We could lose our jobs.”

“Sam…” Cobalt sighed, not looking up from his work, “Will you quit fidgeting? You look suspicious.”

“You know.” Sam glared down at his housemate, “When I decided to be a policeman, I thought I would be upholding the law. Not breaking it.” He sighed, aggravated, and ran a hand through his short-shorn blonde hair. “And why am I even putting up with this anyways? You know what this is? Breaking and entering. That’s what it is. I should be arresting you right now, not… aiding and abetting.”

Cobalt paused, looking up at Sam with an exasperated stare, “Yes, Sam. You could arrest me. Arresting me is one of your two options that I can see. The other one is that you help me out here.” He sat back on his heels to relieve his aching knees. “Sam, you do understand that I’m not doing this for giggles, right? You know this guy is dirty, just like everyone in your and my job knows this.” He gestured at the door, “And we know that somewhere in this house is a ledger. This ledger will basically implicate him and all the other people we know are associated with him but can’t prove it. We aren’t allowed to write up a warrant for ‘the entire house’; the case is such that it needs to be more specific. If we can find out where it is, then we’re set. We don’t need to hurt anyone, steal anything, whatever.” Cobalt held out his hands, “It’s simple.”

“Cobalt.” Sam’s voice was tense, “I understand this. What I don’t understand is why you feel like you—and by extension me—have to do this.”

“Well, your boss lacks ingenuity and my boss lacks the ability to pick locks, so the duty falls on the two of us.” Cobalt bit his tongue, concentrating on the stubborn lock. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Sam sighed, his breath misting in the cold November night. “Just hurry it up, will you?”

As if by request, the lock clicked accommodatingly under Cobalt’s thin fingers. The twenty-six year old smirked up at his friend before carefully pushing the door open. They knew that the house should be empty, but both men knew that that wasn’t any reason to not be careful. The door opened silently, and they were greeted by a dark and empty house. Sam heaved a sigh, Cobalt looked at him questioningly.

“I was expecting an alarm.” The taller man confessed. Cobalt snorted.

“I was expecting guard dogs.” Both men shared a short, quiet laugh before they turned back to the house, their faces serious. “Okay,” Cobalt kept his voice pitched low, “Don’t move anything unless you have to and—hey!” Cobalt’s sharp rebuke froze Sam midway through almost picking up a book on the hall table. Sam looked over at Cobalt, wide-eyed. Cobalt gave him a disbelieving look, “Are you kidding me?” He reached into his pocket and tossed Sam a pair of white latex gloves. “Some cop you’re turning out to be.”

Sam obligingly flipped him off.

-

Cobalt was on his toes, running his hands along the walls, feeling for anything out of place, when Sam slid into the room. “Cobalt!” Sam hissed, “I found something!”

Sam led Cobalt into the study, and pointed at a blank spot on the hardwood. Cobalt stared at Sam, gesturing confusedly. Sam grinned, dropped to his knees and pushed down on the panels. At the pressure, the panels popped up, revealing a small, shallow compartment. Cobalt grinned at Sam, who was beaming proudly. Among other items, there was a thin, leather-bound book. Cobalt picked it up gingerly and flipped it open. After a few moments of watching the other man peruse its contents, Sam couldn’t wait anymore. “Well?” He asked intently, “Is this it?”

Cobalt looked up at his friend and grinned, giving Sam a thumbs up. Sam breathed out a relieved laugh. “All right, let’s get the hell outta—”

Down the hall, the front door opened.

Both men froze, staring at each other with wide eyes as raucous and drunken laughter rang down the hall. “…Oh shit.” Sam hissed, clearly beginning to panic, “What are we gonna do?”

Cobalt stared at the door for a moment before resting the ledger back in the compartment and pressing it shut. They both stood up and looked wildly about the room, scanning for a way out. Sam pointed, “The window.” He looked panicked, “Unless you can think of a better idea.”

The sounds were coming closer. “Nope, sounds good to me.” Cobalt and Sam pried the window open and shimmied out into the night. Cobalt pulled up his shadows around himself and his friend and they were virtually invisible as they ran down the street.

“Holy shit.” Sam gasped. He and Cobalt exchanged thunderstruck glances before they both burst out laughing, the adrenaline and “we just did that” finally catching up with them. “Cobalt, I am never, ever listening to you. Ever again.”

“Fair enough.” Cobalt laughed, “But we got our guy.”

“Rose is gonna kill us.”

“Pssh. Rose is gonna be mad we didn’t invite her along.”

“…Yeah, true.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

I hope we'll be friends forever, together we'll always be. I don't think you understand just how much you mean to me. And one day when we part our ways, we'll think back to the past and think about how happy we are 'cause our friendship will always last.

--Bridget Davis

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June 1973

“Loser.”

The word stung as the little boy sat down on the ground, holding his model airplane tight. Maybe if he ignored them, the older boys would go away and he could play by himself again. He wasn’t bothering anyone. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone.

“You’re so weird, no wonder nobody likes you.”

The nine year old ducked his head so they wouldn’t see the tears threatening to fall behind his thick glasses. This wasn’t fair, he hadn’t done anything to them. He tried to remind himself that bullies only picked on people because they felt bad about themselves. And if he just ignored them, they would go away. He was better than them, he was a nicer person than them he—

“How’s it feel, having no friends?”

With a wounded cry, the little boy stood up, scowling weakly at the older boys. “Stop it.” He demanded, his voice wavering. He didn’t care that they were probably a whole year older than him, he didn’t care that they could (and probably would) beat him up, he was tired of this. “Quit picking on me. I haven’t done anything to you, so go and bother someone else.”

“Oh, is that so?” Suddenly, he found his model airplane torn out of his hands and tossed carelessly to the side. It hit the asphalt and the wing broke off. With a cry, the boy ran towards it, but he was caught by one arm. “Now guess what we’re going to do to you?” Laughter rang out around him as he shut his brown eyes tight. Maybe an adult would come by soon and—

“Stop it.”

There was a surprised pause as the younger, higher voice sounded from behind them. The boy turned around to see another child: small and maybe even younger than him, with cold eyes and crooked glasses. His face was angular and deadly serious. “Leave him alone. Right now.”

More laughter. “And what are you gonna do if we don’t?”

“Pro’bly tell on you.” The blue-eyed boy responded simply, “Or punch you.”

Suddenly, the hands on his arm were gone, and the boy dropped to the ground, skinning his knees on the asphalt. He looked up with wide eyes as his two antagonists surrounded the smaller boy, who didn’t look the least bit afraid. “Get outta here,” One of the older boys scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I don’t hit toddlers.”

The younger boy smiled, a cold curve of the lips. It occurred to the ten year old that the younger boy had yet to blink. “Your loss.”

It didn’t take much, a well-placed jab to the side of the knee and a sharp kick to the groin and the two boys decided that he wasn’t worth the trouble. They departed with threats to tell the disciplinarian. The blue-eyed boy didn’t look concerned. He stared at him and said nothing, still unblinking.

“Um… Thanks for—”

“You’re a wimp.”

The words stopped him cold. So what, he was getting abuse from his helper as well? Red-faced and embarrassed, the boy opened his mouth angrily, but the younger child knelt down next to him, his eyes finally looking concerned: “You don’t stand up for yourself until it’s too late. Nobody watches your back but you.”

“I dunno. You seemed to have it covered. Thanks.”

The blue-eyed boy looked surprised, then confused, as though he didn’t quite know what to say. Eventually, he stood up, brushing the dirt off his worn jeans, not looking at the nine year old. “I’m Cobalt.” The blue eyed boy mumbled finally.

“Danny.”

Cobalt turned to Danny and nodded. “Nice to meetcha, Danny.” He pushed up his crooked glasses, looking flustered, “Sorry about your plane.”

Danny looked down at the broken plane, dismayed, “It’s ok. I’d tell, but I don’t wanna get you in—”

“No, tell the instructors.” Cobalt looked intensely at the other boy, “I don’t mind getting in trouble. I think I’m going to be in some anyways.”

Danny looked down at the plane, miserable again, “…But I don’t wanna get you in trouble. I wanna be your friend.”

Cobalt looked at him, tilting his head to once side quizzically. His blue eyes were calculating and confused and Danny wondered why that was such a big deal. Finally, the smaller boy spoke, “I’ll still be your friend. If you want me to.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking more nervous now than when he was staring up at two eleven year olds.

Danny’s smile was bright and instantly cheery. “’Course I do! Can you teach me to fight?”

A small, reluctant smile twitched on the corner of Cobalt’s thin lips, “I dunno how to fight. I got lucky. I thought they were gonna beat me up.”

“Well… then why’dya do it?”

Cobalt looked surprised, “Because it was the right thing to do. I dunno.”

Danny grinned, “Well, I’ll teach you how to make model planes. Okay?”

Cobalt looked as though he was waiting for his good fortune to run out. He eyed Danny cautiously before nodding again, “Okay. Yeah, I wanna learn how to make planes.”

Danny smiled again, beaming wider when Cobalt tentatively returned the grin. So this is what having a friend felt like.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Today, today, keep your head and drive again. There's nothing more to battle
And you go
Today, today, is gonna be a better one. There's nothing more to take in going wrong

-Stars, Today Will Be Better, I Swear

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May 1984

Okay. Okay, you can do this. Just—just open it. Go on. Open the damn envelope. Cobalt stared down at the envelope clutched in his trembling fingers. He pushed up his glasses, staring down at the envelope. He had already been accepted to the University of Vermont, and some other schools on the East Coast. But this… this was the school he really wanted. And a school he couldn’t actually get in to unless he also got the scholarship. Both of which were almost guaranteed not to happen, so he should just open the envelope and get it over with. He flipped the envelope over and hooked a fingertip under the flap of the envelope. But he couldn’t do it. Heart pounding, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to get ahold of himself.

Oh, this was ridiculous.

Gritting his teeth, Cobalt huffed an aggravated sigh and ripped open the envelope.

Okay. Step one over.

He stared at the ripped envelope, the fateful paper sticking out of the torn packaging. The nineteen-year-old swallowed hard, suddenly and utterly certain that he was going to throw up and then the world was going to explode. And then he was going to live in a box for the rest of his life.

Dramatic? Sure. Utterly and completely plausible? Absolutely.

Shaking himself, Cobalt steeled himself and, in one gesture pulled the letter out of the envelope.

We are honored to inform you of your admission to the University of Chicago. On behalf of the faculty and other members of this community, we commend you on your personal and scholastic accomplishments. Furthermore, we are pleased to notify you of being awarded the Dean’s Scholarship, renewable for each of your four years at—

…

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!” Cobalt’s yell of utter shock and glee echoed through the halls. “ELAAAIINNEE!” Clutching his letter in hand, he sprinted down the hall, a rare look of thrill stretching a wide smile across his face.

Finally, everything was working out.

[Cobalt Weaver]

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, "It might have been.”

-- John Greenleaf Whittier

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March 1974

“You’re sure this is gonna work?” A blue-eyed boy rubbed the back of his neck nervously, glancing at each of his three companions, “I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

A tall blonde boy rolled his eyes, “Don’t be such a baby, Cobalt. You lost the draw, you gotta go and see. ‘Sides, you’re the smallest one here. It’s your job, really.”

Cobalt glared at the older boy, “I’m not being a baby. I’m being careful. Why can’t we just wait and see what they’re gonna do? Why do we gotta spy on people?”

“Because,” the word was sighed, as though it really should be obvious to the smaller boy, “It’s important stuff. Don’t you wanna know if they’re gonna adopt one of us? You’re nine. That’s old.” The boy spoke with unquestionable authority, “We gotta know what to expect. And it’s only fair that you go.”

“If Cobalt doesn’t wanna, he doesn’t hafta, Mike.” A round-faced, brown haired boy spoke up, pushing up his round, thick glasses. He turned to Cobalt and smiled, “I can go, if you don’t wanna get in trouble, Cobalt.”

Cobalt smiled back at his best friend, flushing a little, “No, I can go. Thanks, Danny.”

Mike rolled his eyes, “Get a room, you guys.”

Cobalt punched him in the arm.

-

Cobalt tucked his legs against his chest, curled up in the cramped art cabinet. A small part of his brain was well aware of how silly this whole thing was. But was certainly too late to back out now. Not when the Director and the couple who had been by the past couple of days had just thrown open the door.

“…I have some files on children who have been in here for a while and are in great need of a home.” Mrs. Kilconnel, the director of St. Ives walked right past the cabinet where Cobalt was hiding. The little boy shrunk even further into the cramped space, pretty sure the older woman would be able to smell him. He loved Mrs. Kilconnel, but he was pretty sure there was nobody tougher in the universe.

“Oh…” The young wife (whose name Cobalt had forgotten) sounded a little taken aback. “We—we were hoping for a younger child. Perhaps a toddler?”

“Toddlers are all very well and good,” Mrs. Kilconnel barely acknowledged, the sound of papers sliding across a desk punctuating her words, “But the youngest child we have right now is seven. However, there are a few children who desperately need someone to love them, and are growing discouraged the longer they are here.” Cobalt grinned a little. The director was never this touchy-feely, but he appreciated what she was willing to say on their behalf. “Simply put, you would be a child’s hero.”

“Oh…” The young wife sounded touched, “Bert, let’s at least look at them, it shouldn’t be—”

“Let’s see the files first.” The man sounded firm and generally unimpressed, “See what kind of kids we’re looking at.”

There was a moment of silence save for the rustling of paper and quiet murmuring before the wife said, “Oh, what about this little boy?”

“Oh, yes.” Mrs. Kilconnel sounded pleased, “That’s Cobalt Weaver.” Cobalt’s eyes went wide and breath stuttered out of his throat. He leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest. Could… are they… “He’s one of our smartest children. Very bright for a nine-year-old.”

“Oh, goodness, he’s nine?” The wife sounded shocked, “The poor thing looks so much younger.”

“Yes…” the husband made a thoughtful noise, “He looks thin. Is he sickly?”

“No, he’s healthy as any of our other children. He’s just far more active.”

“Bert, he looks adorable, let’s just—”

“Wait, what’s this?” Bert interrupted, the sound of sliding paper deafening to Cobalt. “What’s this about a disciplinary hearing? He got into a fight?”

There was a brief pause. “Yes, Cobalt did get into a fight a few weeks ago. He witnessed one of his classmates bullying another. He now understands that fighting is not the best way to solve those problems—”

“Yes, well.” Bert interrupted, “We’re not interested in a child with disciplinary problems.” A pause, “We’ll get back to you, if we’re still interested. Thank you.” There was a note of finality in the man’s voice and the rest of the conversation—goodbyes and other such pleasantries—fell on deaf ears. Cobalt curled up and rested his head on his knees, expression blank.

Once they were gone, he waited another minute or so before clambering out of the cabinet and walking up to his room.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity. And I’m not so sure about the universe.

--Albert Einstein

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January 1985[/b]

“Sam, I don’t really wanna…” Cobalt trailed off, glaring at the denizens of the bar. Sam rolled his eyes, leaning forward, resting his arms on the counter.

“Cobalt, you are overthinking this. You really are.” He clapped Cobalt on the back, shooting him a wide smile, “Look, it’s your birthday. Even your not-girlfriend told you to get off the phone and have some fun. I’ve invited some people and—”

“What?” Cobalt yelped, “You invited people? What people? Who told you to invite people?”

Sam stared at him, giving his roommate an innocent stare that Cobalt didn’t appreciate for a second, “Just a few people. I don’t see the big deal.”

“Do I know any of these people?”

“…No.”

Cobalt stared, “Oh wow. Thanks, Sam, for inviting people I don’t know to my own birthday party. Seriously, what the hell?”

Sam threw his hands up, “No, look. I know them, they’re all really cool guys and it’s not like I could invite Elaine or anything. Seriously man, no offense, but you don’t actually have any friends for me to invite.”

It was a fair point, but Cobalt felt that it didn’t allow Sam to just… decide to throw a party for Cobalt without Cobalt’s permission. “…Fine, whatever. But I’m not going to have any fun.”

“You ever hear of self-fulfilling prophecies, Cobalt.”

“Shut up. This was your idea and I am never letting you or anyone else surprise me with a social gathering ever again. I don’t care how pure your intentions are.”

“Okay, okay. Jesus, Cobalt. What are you—”

“Heeey~!”

Their argument was interrupted by a long, drawled greeting by a tall, athletic-looking Hispanic man. Sam grinned widely and waved. Turning to Cobalt, he shot the twenty-year-old a pleading look. “Please be nice.”

Before Cobalt could respond, the other man, tailed by five other people, made his way to the bar. “Hey Emile.” Sam grinned, clapping the other man on the shoulder. Cobalt nodded, trying not to look as anxious as he was feeling. “Uh. This is Cobalt, my roommate.”

Emile looked surprised and gleeful, “Oh, so this is your straightlaced roomie.” His grin was wicked. “Oh, this should be fun…”

-

“…Cobalt …Cobalt.”

Cobalt opened his eyes a crack and instantly regretted it. Oh, god, it was bright. And someone was shouting. Why were they shouting? “Wrrrlllgg…” Cobalt mumbled inarticulately, pressing his face against what felt like his bedcovers. He pushed himself up and winced, his head pounding. “Wha…?”

Eventually, Sam blurred into focus, an amused look on his face and a cup of water in his hand. “Hey bud. How ya feeling?”

Cobalt moaned. “…Why are you shouting?”

Sam snorted, “Good morning starshine.” He handed Cobalt the cup of water, which Cobalt took and drank thirstily.

“Ugh. What happened last night?”

Sam was trying to hide a smile, “Um. You got a little drunk last night. Well… okay, you got a lot drunk. Dude, you were totally wasted.” He snickered briefly.

Cobalt closed his eyes, distantly feeling mortified, “…Dammit.” He hauled himself off the bed and limped groggily to the bathroom.

“…Sam, is this a hickey??”

“Um… yes?”

“…What the hell did I do?”

“Heh. The question you should be asking is who the hell you did.”

“SAM!!”

“I’m just kidding! You have to meet Alex at the coffeeshop at three.”

“…Is Alex a boy or a girl.”

"Well..."

[Cobalt Weaver]

Never take life too seriously. Nobody gets out alive anyway.

--Unknown

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March 1987[/b]

“Hey, Cobalt?”

Cobalt looked up from his book and over at the girl who was leaning against him with her head nestled comfortably on his shoulder. He tilted his head quizzically at his girlfriend, “Hey, Nat. What’s up?”

She straightened up, looking at him with anxious brown eyes, “Um. We need to talk.”

Cobalt swallowed, his stomach sinking. Those words sounded ominous. Quickly, he tried to figure out if he’d done anything egregiously wrong these past few weeks. Nothing came to mind. He had been dating Natasha for about three weeks or so, and he had been very careful to be polite and conscientious and as affectionate as he could muster. He thought he’d been doing a pretty good job; it was kind of like hanging out with Elaine. Except there was kissing. That was a little weird; Cobalt was trying to figure out how he felt about the kissing. He was pretty sure he liked it. Abruptly, he pulled himself back to the present. “Uhh… okay. Go ahead.”

“Well…” Natasha toyed with a lock of her dark hair, her shoulders hunched, “Honey, I feel awful about this. I mean, you’re an awesome guy. You support me, you were the one to totally shut down that T.A. who suggested I go into Women’s Studies just ‘cause I’m a girl. You didn’t blink when I said I wanted to be an engineer…” She trailed off, staring at her feet. Cobalt nudged her shoulder with his own.

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ in here.” He said, surprisingly not feeling as offended or upset as he felt he should be. Just a little curious.

Natasha nodded, her brow furrowed in a little wince, “But sweetheart, you are so boring.”

…Well, that certainly wasn’t what Cobalt was expecting.

He blinked, “Boring? Boring, how?” Man, if he knew that his ranting about his poly-sci classes were that boring, he would have just stopped.

“Boring like…” Natasha huffed out a sigh. “Okay, cards on the table? Nothing has changed since we decided to start dating. That, and whenever we kiss, you always look totally terrified the whole time—yes you do, don’t give me that look. And, call me crazy, but I kinda want to make out with my boyfriend every once in a while.” She rolled her eyes, looking amused and apologetic, “I’m sorry, Cobalt. I just…don’t really think we function as anything more than good friends.”

Cobalt stared at Natasha, then at his knees, trying to sort out his feelings on all this. Really, he didn’t feel very heartbroken, but what kind of boyfriend gets broken up with because he doesn’t show affection? Seriously, what was wrong with him?

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts. Natasha looked worried, “So… are you mad?”

Cobalt gave her a lopsided grin, “Nah. I am sorry, though. I didn’t…” He waved his hands helplessly, trying to remember how to articulate things. Natasha grinned, “Cobalt, don’t worry about it. We just weren’t right for each other is all.” She shrugged, “You’ll find someone for you. And hopefully you won’t look like a deer caught in the headlights when they try to kiss you.” She nudged him teasingly.

He grinned wider and nudged her back, “Thanks. We’re still friends, though, yeah?”

“’Course.” She responded promptly, “I mean, someone needs to give you advice on how to date properly. And now I can be objective!”

“Oh good. Just what I need, more people trying to give me advice I won’t take.”

“Honestly, it’s like talking to an ostrich sometimes with you.”

“Hey!”

[Cobalt Weaver]

Know your limits, but never stop trying to exceed them.

- Author Unknown

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February 1981

Ms. Jane Redding looked at the student that stood before her. He didn’t look like much, but she knew about him from the grapevine. Cobalt Weaver: extremely bright, shrewd, and perpetually sullen. This was the bane of the security personnel’s collective existence and the kid nobody wanted to associate with. Poor little thing.

Jane Redding sighed and pushed these thoughts out of her mind. This was her student and she was going to teach him right. “Hello Mr. Weaver, how are you today?”

Cobalt looked up at her. Somehow, she didn’t expect him to be so small. “I’m doing well, how are you?” He responded, polite but not personable. Okay. She could work with that.

“Fine, fine.” She clapped her hands, “So. We’re going to work on your power today. See what we can do with it. What can you do with your power so far, kiddo?”

Obediently, Cobalt stepped back and took a deep breath, staring into middle distance. At his side, his fingers twitched. A good sized shadow spun up from the ground, pulled from his own cast shadow and hers as well, and wrapped itself around him. He looked up at her, his blue eyes still eerily bright behind the shadow. Jane nodded.

“Okay, good.” She scrutinized him, “Looks like you’ve got the defensive side of your powers down. Now, there is a possibility that you can do some offensive things with your ability. Can you describe to me what happens to your powers when you are angry or feeling very strongly?”

Cobalt looked a little surprised, “Uh. This, pretty much.” He shrugged, “I think that’s all I can do with it. Oh, and this.” With a little more flourish, the boy raised his hands and gestured at the wall. She looked over at the wall to see a ribbon of shadow spiraling and twisting on the wall. It was surprisingly beautiful. She looked over at Cobalt, who looked more animated than before. He caught her gaze and shrugged, “It makes my muscles sore to do that for very long, but I like it.”

“You should.” Jane nodded, “It’s very interesting.”

“I can’t make shadow people like some of the other shadow manipulators. Why is that?” Cobalt didn’t look too disappointed with this, just interested. She could see the wheels turning in his head.

“Well, the meta gene manifests itself in different ways, sometimes it just takes one variation and it produces the same power, but with strengths the other doesn’t have.” She paused to make sure the boy was following. He looked incredibly interested, his eyes narrowing as he processed this information. Apropos of very little, Jane had an idea.

“Cobalt, I want to try something with your power. I’m going to turn out the lights, okay?”

Cobalt stared at her a little suspiciously, but nodded, his fingers moving at his side. Jane switched off the light and pulled down the curtains. It was almost completely dark, but she could easily see the boy before her. “Okay, kiddo. We’re going to play a game. Hide and I’m going to try to find you, okay?”

In the half-dark, she saw the boy grin, “Okay.” Jane chuckled and turned away. “Aaand… go.”

She turned around.

Cobalt was gone. Jane blinked. She knew he didn’t slip out the door, because she was staring at the door. He had to be in here. Damn, this kid was good. Reaching out with her own shadow powers, Jane pushed and pulled the shadows, sifting through the darkness to try to find the small boy.

After a few moments, she called out, “You know, hiding under furniture is cheating!”

“I’m not.”

Jane wheeled around to see the boy standing behind her, looking bright-eyed and excited. Jane was impressed, “How the hell were you able to do that? I couldn’t even see your shadow mass.”

Cobalt flushed, trying to hide his embarrassed smile. What, hadn’t this kid ever been complimented before? “I dunno,” He replied, “I just… I can feel it, the way the shadows move and I make them move with me.”

Jane grinned at him, cuffing his shoulder, “That’s great, kid. Now, let’s try projecting shadows. You do well pulling them around yourself, let’s see if you can’t at least do a shadow front.”

This turned out to be harder for Cobalt. The shadows liked him too much. He’d pull them up and they’d swirl around him or stick to the wall. He could never make anything solid. After almost an hour, she could see he was getting frustrated. “Okay kiddo, let’s take a break.”

“No, no.” Cobalt widened his stance and flexed his fingers, “I can do this. I can.”

Jane frowned, “Cobalt, don’t--”

Too late.

The boy arched back, raising his hands and then pushed them forward, fingers splayed and reaching, a look on intense concentration on his face. A burst of pitch-dark shadow burst out from behind him, a wall of black that enveloped Jane. She froze for a second, surprised and trying to adjust her eyes. As far as she could tell, the wall of shadow covered the entire room.

It was too much.

“Cobalt! Cobalt, stop it!” She shouted, “It’s too much, you’re going to hurt yourself!”

The shadow front disappeared. Cobalt stood before her, slumped over and knock-kneed. He was pale and sweating, swaying on his feet. Before Jane could do anything, the boy dropped to his knees and vomited.

Cursing under her breath, Jane ran over and hauled the boy up, looping his thin arm around her shoulders, “C’mon kid, let’s get you to the nurse.”

Cobalt didn’t say anything, still panting and dragging his feet. He coughed, “What—what happened? I didn’t… I didn’t know… why…?”

“You overtaxed yourself.” Jane said curtly, more angry with herself than at the boy, “It happens, but next time I tell you to stop, you listen, you understand?”

Cobalt nodded, looking miserable. “…Sorry.”

Jane sighed, “No, I’m sorry. I’m in charge of you and I wasn’t clear about the rules before we started. You’re okay, don’t worry about it.”

“…Guess I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.”

Jane huffed out a short laugh, “It happens.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

When a friend is in trouble, don't annoy him by asking if there is anything you can do. Think up something appropriate and do it.

- Edgar Watson Howe

---------------------------------------------------------------------

September 1982[/i]

“Hey. Hey, Cobalt. Hey shrimp, I’m talking to you.”

Cobalt let out a world-weary sigh that fit better on a middle-aged banker than a seventeen-year-old boy. He turned and looked up (way up) at his harasser, “What do you want, Brett.” He hated Brett. Even his name grated on his nerves. Seriously, who named their child Brett?

Brett sneered, his lip curling in a sloppy imitation of the distain Cobalt took it upon himself to carefully cultivate since he was nine. And really, over-exaggerated, self-important sneering was just inelegant. Cobalt was swiftly losing interest in Brett’s presence. “So, why you still hanging around that preggers chick, shrimp?”

A hot spike of anger shot through Cobalt, but he affixed Brett instead with a cold stare, “I don’t know any pregnant girls, actually. However, I’m not at all surprised that you are still baffled by basic physiology, Brett. Please feel free to call your mommy when you go home and ask her where babies come from again. Spoilers, it’s not the stork.” Adjusting his backpack shoulder strap, Cobalt stepped around the taller boy, signaling his interest in the conversation complete. However, he knew Brett wouldn’t be swayed by subtlety.

Predictably, Brett called after him, “I betcha want in her pants. That what you want, shrimp?” A rough laugh. “Not that it would be that hard. How’dya think she got herself knocked up anyways?”

Cobalt wanted very much to grab this boy by the shoulders and punch every single one of his teeth out of his crude, stupid head. And, for a moment, he almost did; his hands were curled up in fists so tight his nails were digging into his palms. How dare this stupid, ignorant idiot—

Stop. Cobalt took a breath. Elaine had made him promise that he would stop getting into fights on her behalf. After getting sent to the office (and nurse) enough times, she had angrily told him that he was setting a bad example for Morgan and also ruining his own life so he better knock it off. And Cobalt was finding that saying no to Elaine was difficult anyway. It was impossible when she was angry.

Instead, he turned, schooling his expression into placidity. Brett’s sneer turned a little confused. This could work.

“How’s Tanya, Brett?” He asked, his voice level, almost pleasant. Brett’s eyes widened.

“What did you say?” He demanded sharply.

“Tanya.” Cobalt repeated, putting his hands in his pockets idly, “She’s your little sister, isn’t she? She’s…what? Fifteen?”

“Hey, you shut up about my sister, you stupid little punk.” Brett spat, livid.

“Then you shut up about mine.” Cobalt snapped, his shadows curling around him menacingly. “And don’t even think about asking ‘or what’. Because you don’t want to know.” He stepped away from the seething older boy and gave him a quirk of an eyebrow. “Say hi to your sister for me.”

Cobalt waited until he had turned the corner to let out a triumphant smirk. Nobody messed with his friend.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Never stay always up on the barren heights of cleverness, but come down sometimes to the green valleys of silliness

- Ludwig Wittgenstein

---------------------------------------------------------------------

April 1985[/b]

“They’re black.”

“Oh my god, I am telling you right now, they are brown.”

“No, shitty knock-off Oreos are brown, real Oreos are black.”

“No. Look, cocoa beans. They’re brown. Ergo, chocolate is brown. Oreo cookies are chocolate. Ergo, Oreo cookies are brown.”

Cobalt and Sam sat on the edge of their respective beds, a pile of Oreo cookies piled on the nightstand between their beds, locked in an extremely important debate that had been going on for quite a while.

“Right,” Sam rolled his eyes sarcastically, “Because nobody ever uses food dye. What about those purple cookies you ate yesterday?”

Cobalt looked confused, “Those cookies weren’t purple. They were black.”

Sam gave him an incredulous, irritated look, “Wha—okay, you know what? Never mind. Not the point. Look, Oreo cookies are black. Not brown.”

“Okay, you know what. Here.” Cobalt grabbed a cookie from the pile and pressed it against his black hoodie. “See? Brown.”

“That’s just a different shade of black.” Sam protested.

Cobalt smacked his hand against his forehead, “Oh my god, really? Really, Sam? Okay, here.” He stood up and walked over to the brown windowsill and held the cookie near it. “See? It’s far closer to the shades of brown than the shade of black. Oh, and by the way,” Cobalt added, his voice disdainful, “I don’t even think there can be shades of black. Pretty sure there is black, and there is like… grey an—urk!” Cobalt’s tirade was cut off by Sam shoving another cookie into his mouth.

“It’s like you never shut up or something.” Sam muttered, rolling his eyes and grinning.

“Tha’s mathure.” Cobalt mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. He swallowed before saying, “Anyways, you’re just mad ‘cause I’m right. Why does nobody ever admit when I’m right?”

“Because you’re a douchebag when you’re right.” Sam informed him helpfully, “Maybe if you were a more graceful winner, people would admit you were right.”

Cobalt considered this briefly before shrugging. “Hey, I’m right or I’m not. If I’m wrong I’ll admit it, and I would appreciate it if others did the same.”

“Well either way.” Sam shrugged, unconcerned, “You’re not right in this case, so…”

“I am so.” Cobalt scowled, annoyed, “I have proven with comparison of real life objects. That’s evidence, Sam. Do you have evidence?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Here. Exhibit A.” He held up a cookie. “And Exhibit B.” He held up his own black sweatshirt. After a moment of holding them side by side, he took a healthy bite of the Oreo. “Cathse cwothed.” Sam mumbled, grinning broadly and spraying cookie crumbs all over the floor.

Cobalt stared at him for a moment, clearly at a loss. After a few moments of opening and closing his mouth, searching for something to say, he finally punched his roommate in the arm.

“Ow!!” Sam whined, rubbing his arm. “What is wrong with you, you stupid weirdo?”

Cobalt grinned crookedly, “I’m right. Now shut up and eat your damn cookies.”

Sullenly, Sam obeyed.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.

- Khalil Gibran

---------------------------------------------------------------------

September 1988[/b]

Cobalt hit the ground hard, breath rushing out of his lungs. Without hesitation, he rolled back to his feet despite every nerve in his body pleading for him to just stop moving. There was iron on his tongue and the smell of rust and sweat hung in the cold night air. Cobalt’s glasses were somewhere on the floor of the alley and the night was shrouded in myopia, shadows and fog. And the men in front of him were faceless, nameless. They could be anyone. He could be anyone.

And that was the whole appeal.

“Motherfucker, stay down.” Someone to his left growled. In some distant way, Cobalt was intensely grateful for those words. He clung to them. The opposition gave him a challenge, painted this as something other than what it actually was. Now, he could pretend he was struggling against something. Like this wasn’t something he asked for the moment he stepped out of his door into the night.

Cobalt let out a feral grin; the sting of his bloodied lips, the throbbing of his head, the burning in his lungs, it all screamed the same thing: you’re alive. You’re alive and you can feel something else for a while. He bent his aching knees and clenched his torn fists. There was a sharp huff of exasperated breath, a disconcerting moment of discomfort from the other men that reminded him that this wasn’t really their fault. And he couldn’t have that.

Cobalt’s next swing caught someone in the jaw and then Cobalt began to realize that they had been holding back before. That they hadn’t wanted this. The startling revelation caused him to stumble and he caught a knee in the solar plexus and a heavy blow to the side of the head. Reeling, Cobalt wasn’t sure what was happening until he felt the world tilt and concrete scrape the side of his face. Distantly, he began to panic get up, get up get up. If you don’t get up, you’re dead. There was a boot in his side and he wasn’t sure which direction up was anymore. From what felt like a long way off, he heard one of them curse, almost distressed, “—had just quit fucking with us, this wouldn’t have happened…” But that was okay. He could accept the consequences for his actions. He could. He did. He—

Suddenly, they stopped. There were still angry, echoing voices, but after a moment, there was a hand on his shoulder and a concerned face swam into view. It looked familiar.

“Cobalt? Hey, can you hear me?”

Cobalt blinked, trying to see clearly, “…Danny?”

A nervous laugh, “No, man. No, I don’t—I don’t know who Danny is. It’s Sam.”

Oh yeah. Cobalt nodded slowly, “I know who you are.”

“Good. All right, c’mon. I’m getting you home.”

-

The next time Cobalt opened his eyes, he was momentarily confused. Weak, early morning sun peeked through the blinds and his roommate was a nearsighted blur, hunched over his computer, sitting at his desk. The startlingly incongruous scene contrasted sharply with his memories from last night. Dammit, what was he gonna tell Sam… Cobalt tried to take a deep breath, but his entire torso ached. The twenty-two year old winced.

Steeling himself, Cobalt pushed himself up and, ignoring the burning pain lancing through his muscles, settled into a seating position. Sam turned to look at him, and Cobalt couldn’t precisely see his roommate’s expression, but somehow, Cobalt had a feeling it wasn’t good. He just couldn’t bring himself to care.

Cobalt mumbled something before hauling himself to his feet, pausing for a moment to wait for the room to stop spinning. “…Where are my glasses?”

A pause, and then the blur that was Sam stood up and shuffled towards him, reaching out and pressing his glasses into his hand. Cobalt grunted in thanks before slipping them on, wincing when everything became bright and clear. Somehow, he preferred the murkiness. Sam’s expression was as stony as Cobalt had suspected. Cobalt stared at him blankly for a moment before turning away to reach for the water bottle on his own desk.

There was a moment of silence, then: “…So they said you started it. Last night. I would call bullshit only one of those guys is in my science class. He’s a real idiot but he doesn’t actually like beating the crap out of people.” Cobalt didn’t respond. “So did you?”

“What, start it?” Cobalt took a drink of water, “Yeah, I did.”

Sam sputtered, “Wh—but… I don’t understand. Why do you do this? This is like, the fourth time since I’ve known you. What the hell is going on?” He tilted his head, giving Cobalt the uncomfortable feeling that he was being examined, “…Is this because of what happened with Logan? Because he broke up with you?”

Cobalt frowned, “Sam, I broke up with him. It wasn’t anything anyways. Just… like an experiment.”

Sam made a disbelieving noise and ran a hand down his face, “God, Cobalt. I can’t even begin to take apart everything that is wrong with that statement. I—okay. Look. What’s actually going on here? You didn’t act like this when you broke up with Nat. Or… like, Jenny, but she was a bitch anyways. I don’t understand why, if Logan wasn’t such a big goddamn deal, then why—”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Cobalt interrupted, the pain and embarrassment granting him unusual honesty, “I don’t like thinking about it.” Sam still looked confused. Cobalt shrugged, too tired to care about anything, “Nothing…nobody feels right. To me. So I don’t know what else to do.”

“Making people punch the crap out of you is your solution?” Sam demanded, still incredulous, “How is that supposed to solve anything?”

“It’s not.” Cobalt replied, “It just… makes things simpler. Gives me something else to think about. Also, fighting doesn’t require thought. It…shuts my brain up.” Cobalt rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping.

“…Well, that settles it. I’m making an appointment for you. You’re going to see a counselor.”

Cobalt let out a dry laugh, “I saw one when I was a kid. It doesn’t help.”

“Shut up.” Sam snapped, causing Cobalt to look up at him in surprise, “The only reason it hasn’t worked is because you’re too damn stubborn to let it work. Now get your stupid head out of your ass and figure out what the hell you’re doing.” Sam scowled, his usually amiable face deadly serious, “Because I’m tired of driving around Chicago at night worrying about my stupid friend. Okay?”

Cobalt’s eyes were wide. “O-okay. Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, cringing at the sensitivity, “Sorry, Sam.”

Sam relaxed, “Look man, you’re a little fucked up. But you’re not as fucked up as you think. There’s another way to work with this.” He sat on his bed, looking up curiously at Cobalt with scrutinizing eyes, “Hey Cobalt?”

“Yeah?”

“Who’s Danny?”

“…I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

[Cobalt Weaver]

How often it is that the angry man rages denial of what his inner self is telling him.

- Frank Herbert

---------------------------------------------------------------------

September 1975[/b]

“…Guys?”

It was close to eleven o’clock at night, and the oldest of the four boys who shared this room was fast asleep. The other three, however, were not. So the thin voice of a child calling out to his friends made the smallest of the group sit up to look at his friend.

“What’s wrong, Danny?” Cobalt rubbed his eyes clumsily, squinting myopically through the dark, “Didja have a bad dream?” The concern in the ten-year-old’s voice was audible, and it made the older, blonde boy in the corner snort.

“Yeah, Danny. If you got a nightmare, maybe Cobalt and you can snuggle.”

“Shut up, Mike.” Cobalt growled in the dark, ready to push himself out of bed to punch the other boy, if need be. Cobalt and Mike had an interesting relationship. As it was, the twelve-year-old didn’t seem too concerned.

“No… guys, it’s not that.” Danny sounded tired, his voice quiet and confused, “It’s… do you guys believe in that one lesson we got today?”

“Look, nerdbucket,” Mike sighed exaggeratedly, “We got like… six lessons today. Which one are you talking about?” Cobalt growled, scowling at Mike through the shadows.

“The one about… gay people.” The last two words were whispered in the juvenile fear that just by talking about such a forbidden subject would bring the judgment of God on their heads.

“Oh.” Cobalt tilted his head, confused, “Well… yeah. I mean, they wouldn’t teach it to us if it’s not true.”

“But, but…” Danny sounded inexplicably distressed, “Do you really think that God would send people to hell because they love someone?”

“Well…” Cobalt shrugged with the air of someone who knew they were going to say something offensive, “They loved the wrong people. That’s why it’s wrong. God made boys so they can love girls and girls so they can love boys. That’s the whole point. They shouldn’t’ve made the wrong choice, I guess.”

Danny paused, “D’ya think it’s a choice? Like… they decide to be that way?”

Cobalt paused, frowning in concentration, “Has to be. Why would God make something only to throw it in Hell?”

“But then, why would anyone choose to go to Hell?”

That threw Cobalt. And he thought about it, trying to make as much sense as a ten year old could of a strange conundrum. “Maybe… maybe they don’t believe in God. So they don’t know.”

“Maybe they love the other person so much that they don’t care.” Danny murmured, his silhouette hunched over, toying with the edge of his blanket. Cobalt stared over at Danny. He could tell the other boy was upset and for some reason, that made him upset as well. And suddenly, he could think of one person he would risk Hell for—

“Oh my god, Danny…” Mike sighed, pushing himself up, “Would you just shut up? Look, are you gay?”

“What? No!” Danny stammered hastily, “I just—I didn’t—”

“Then who cares?” Mike flopped back down on the bed, “Just worry about yourself. And lemme sleep.” Grumbling, Mike rolled over, sufficiently ending the conversation.

There was a moment of pause before Danny looked over at Cobalt and gave a grin that shone so that Cobalt could even see it half in shadow and without his glasses. “It just doesn’t seem fair, I guess…” Danny sighed, laying back down, “Night, Cobalt.”

“Night Danny.” Cobalt rolled over, pressing the side of his face against the pillow.

No, it didn’t seem fair at all.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Though nothing
Will keep us together
We could steal time
Just for one day
We can be Heroes
For ever and ever
What d'you say…

- David Bowe “Heroes”

---------------------------------------------------------------------

June 1972

The nice thing about summer, Cobalt decided, was that you could stay outside later at night, and it wasn’t too cold or wet. Indeed, the night was warm and clear and the moon hung bright in the sky. It wasn’t too late, or Cobalt and Danny would be in an awful lot of trouble for breaking curfew, but it was late enough to sprawl out on the lawn in the back and see the stars. The grass tickled the back of Cobalt’s arms and poked his back through the thin cotton of his slightly too-big T-shirt. He pushed up the glasses up on his nose and sighed happily.

“Hey, Cobalt?” Danny straightened up into a sitting position, turning to look down at his friend, “What do you wanna be when you grow up?”

The nine-year-old rolled over on his stomach and pushed himself up to sit next to Danny, staring up at the sky, “Umm…I dunno. I think I wanna be a policeman.” Cobalt considered it for a moment, then nodded, “Yeah. I could catch bad guys.”

“You’d be a good policeman.” Danny nodded with a grin. When he fell silent, Cobalt nudged him with his shoulder, “What do you wanna be?”

Danny sighed, playing with a blade of grass for a moment. Then, he shrugged, “I dunno. Don’t laugh, but…I kind of wanna…” Danny blushed, looking away. “Never mind.” He mumbled, playing with his glasses self-consciously.

Cobalt looked at him quizzically. “…I promise I won’t laugh.” He offered, not knowing what to say, “It’s prob’ly not that bad.”

Danny grinned sheepishly before looking up at the stars again, “…I kind of want to fly to the moon.”

Cobalt tilted his head, considering, “Like… in a spaceship? Like those guys on TV?”

Danny ducked his head. “I toldja it was stupid,” The ten year old muttered defensively.

Cobalt blinked, “I don’t think it’s stupid. You’re gonna have to learn how to make a spaceship though. Or join those guys who already been there. I read some stuff about the moon. ‘Parently, there’s no air, so you’re gonna have to figure out how to get air up there.”

Danny looked at him, surprise written on his round face, “You don’t think it’s stupid?”

Cobalt looked confused, “No… you can do whatever you want. You’re smart and stuff.”

Danny looked pleased, smiling slightly and scooting closer to Cobalt. After a moment of stillness, Danny slowly leaned his head to rest on Cobalt’s shoulder, sliding his hand closer to the younger boy’s. The younger boy started a little, looking surprised, “Are you tired or something?”

Danny straightened up instantly, looking embarrassed, “N-no. It’s… people do this. I saw it in a movie.”

Cobalt looked confused still, his glasses sliding down his face, “But why? I don’t understand.”

Danny stared at him for a moment before looking up at the stars again, “I dunno. It’s okay.”

Cobalt didn’t think it sounded okay. Cobalt thought Danny sounded sad. But, as far as the nine-year-old was concerned, if Danny didn’t want to talk about it, then Cobalt wouldn’t pry. Instead, he said the only thing he could think of to make Danny smile, “I bet you could even go to Mars. Nobody’s done that yet, I don’t think. That would be cool.”

Danny brightened, “Yeah, it would be. You really think I could do it?”

“Sure. You’ll be the best astronaut ever.”

Danny grinned at Cobalt, who hesitantly smiled back. The little boy leaned his head back and inhaled deeply, relishing the smell of the warm summer air.

Yeah, they could do anything.

[Cobalt Weaver]

Who loves not a false imagining, an unreal character in us; but looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our natures - not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.

- Alfred Lord Tennyson

---------------------------------------------------------------------

February 1982

Morgan was crying. Again. Morgan wasn’t a crying baby. Usually, he was a laughing, happy, cheery baby. Today, though, he was a crying, unhappy, angry one-year-old intent on making everyone at Hammel deaf with his shrieks. Elaine hiked the squalling toddler up her hip and walked into the cafeteria with her head down. She would never be ashamed of her baby in a million years; Morgan was the sun and the moon to her and she would tear to pieces anyone who tried to criticize him. However, she was a little embarrassed that her little ray of sunshine was interrupting everyone’s lunch.

“Morgy, please, please stop crying,” She sighed at her baby, “I know you’re cranky, but screaming about it isn’t gonna help anything.” She sighed, setting Morgan on a chair and putting her head in her hand for a moment.

It took her a minute to realize that Morgan wasn’t crying anymore.

She looked up to see that instead of crying, he was staring across the room, a look of thrilled awe on his face. She followed his gaze to see (to her great surprise), her classmate, Cobalt Weaver, waving his hands in the air, using his power to create fantastic shadows on the wall. She blinked. This was a little… unexpected. Cobalt was notorious for his ill temper and his sullen attitude. Nobody really liked Cobalt. And usually for good reason. And yet here he was, making shadow puppets and silly faces for her baby. He caught her gaze and quick as anything, the shadows pulled back around him in an attempt to hide his blush. She smiled a little, staring down at Morgan, who was still cooing happily and beaming at Cobalt. She had an idea, and gathered up her things to go sit with him.

He looked a little nervous when she sat down. He was smaller than she thought. But he smelled like good people. And a whole lot of sadness. She watched as he pushed his glasses up on his nose and swallowed. She smiled.

“Hey, I don’t think we met before, I’m Elaine Tonaya. I think we have History together.”

“We do.” Cobalt replied quietly, poking at his food. “You did that report on the Tudors. It was good.”

“Uh, thanks.” Elaine grinned, a little surprised. At least he didn’t say ‘you’re Elaine, the teenaged mom, right?’ It was depressing how much she got that one. “This is Morgan. He’s my son.” She stared at him, testing for his reaction.

Instead of looking uncomfortable (more uncomfortable, he always looked kind of uncomfortable), he looked at Morgan and gave a lopsided grin. “Hey there, Morgan.” He waved his fingers at him, and a shadow shaped like a rabbit bounded across the wall. Morgan shrieked with glee. Elaine laughed in spite of herself.

“You’re really good at that,” She complimented, smiling, “That’s actually why I came over here. To thank you. Thanks for playing with Morgan, he can be a handful sometimes.”

Cobalt shrugged, “It’s no problem. It’s… good you involve him with your life. Family’s important.” He glanced back at his food, blue eyes downcast and yep, there was definitely the sadness. It came off of him in waves, the poor guy. He looked up at her, appearing to gather himself, “I’m Cobalt Weaver.”

“I know.” Elaine responded candidly, “You punched Daniel Hawthorne in the face three days ago. I can’t remember what for.”

Cobalt didn’t look ashamed, “He deserved it. He was trying to set Sara Blake’s hair on fire. Nobody else saw.”

Elaine looked surprised, “That’s not what I heard happened.”

Cobalt shrugged, looking generally unconcerned. Elaine laughed, shaking her head. Morgan cooed, reaching out with little chubby hands at Cobalt, who grinned at him. Elaine looked at her watch and then blanched. “Oh sh—oot.” She glanced at her toddler, “I have to go to English. Like, right now.” Elaine rubbed her head, trying not to scream in frustration.

“Well… if you need someone to watch Morgan. I—I wouldn’t mind watching him. I’m done with my classes.” She looked up in surprise. Cobalt looked back at her, blue eyes a little anxious. She hesitated, but she knew already that she trusted him. He was a good person, despite all of the obvious attitude problems.

“That would be great, actually.” She sighed, reaching into her bag, “He doesn’t really require much, but here’s his bag. Everything he’d need is in there.” She handed over the bag, wondering if the sight of the large green bag would intimidate him, and while he looked a little frightened, he took the bag without hesitation. “So, where’s your room, so I know where to go after class?”

“Room 502.” He responded, shouldering the bag, “But if you’d feel more comfortable me taking Morgan somewhere outside, I would definitely understand.”

Elaine smiled widely. This was really… weird. Cobalt, the cranky bastard of Hammel, the kid everyone loved to hate, was actually relatively well-meaning. “No, that’s okay, I trust you.” She patted his shoulder and rushed to class.

-

Elaine pushed open the door reading “502” after a few hours of blessed freedom and classes. She felt a little bad for making Cobalt watch a one year old all day, but she figured that he wouldn’t mind so much. The door was open, so she peeked in and grinned broadly.

Cobalt was sitting on his bed, reading a book, Morgan was completely mouth-open, drooling on his shirt asleep, head on Cobalt’s shoulder. The toys and books in Morgan’s bag were laid out all over the room, evident signs of play. Cobalt looked up from his book and smiled at Elaine, looking happier than she remembered seeing him.

“Hey,” She smiled, pitching her voice low, “How was he? Not too much trouble, I hope?”

Cobalt shook his head, carefully transferring Morgan from his shoulder to Elaine’s arms, “Nah, he was great.” He grinned, ruffling Morgan’s hair a little, “Also, he’s been changed, so you don’t have to worry about that for a while.”

Elaine blinked at him, “You changed his diaper?”

Cobalt shrugged, putting the toys and books back in the bag, “Sure. He was stinky.”

Elaine was a little awestruck. “Thanks. Look, I don’t have a whole lot to pay you but…” She shifted Morgan in her arms to reach for her wallet in her pocket, but Cobalt shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged, “It wasn’t any big deal. A lot better than how I was gonna spend my day anyways.”

“I should still give you something.” Elaine insisted. Cobalt looked uncomfortable.

“Look,” He said, rubbing the back of his neck, “You came over to talk to me when most people really… don’t. I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but you’ve always been nice to me. You trusted me with your child.” He shrugged, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking money from you. All things considered.”

Elaine grinned, “Fine, but I’m still making you cookies.”

And Cobalt actually laughed then. Brief, but there. “Well, I’m never one to turn down baked goods.”

“Well, hey,” Elaine shouldered Morgan’s bag, “If you want, I could really use a regular sitter for Morgan. We could work out a schedule and I could pay you in cookies.”

Cobalt smiled, nodding, “Yeah, that sounds like a good deal.” He held out his hand and she shook it, grinning.

“See ya later, thanks again!” She waved, and then walked out with a wide smile on her face.

[Cobalt Weaver]

The self-educated are marked by stubborn peculiarities

- Isaac Disreali

---------------------------------------------------------------------

September 1977

The sun was setting over Vermont’s heavily wooded skyline, and the shadows were lengthening and lending the air a crisp chill. It was almost time for curfew for the students of Hammel, but nobody was paying much mind to this. This evening, everyone’s attention was on one particular oak tree in the courtyard, and one tiny little boy perched stubbornly in the branches. He’d been up there for hours. More or less the entire day. He’d missed all his classes for the day, and nobody had realized he was there until a concerned classmate notified one of the teachers of a little boy who had ostensibly not moved the entire day. Now, what appeared to be half of Hammel was gathered about as an eleven-year-old boy made his stand.

“Cobalt, you have to come down!” Mrs. Tyler, a young English teacher was looking up at him, exasperation written all over her pretty features.

“No!” The voice that carried down from the tree was as tiny and frail-looking as the child, but there was a steely edge of stubbornness that meant business. Mrs. Tyler pressed a hand to her temples and sighed. The students about her giggled and chattered, clearly bemused by this little protester.

“What’s going on?” A tall, shy looking fourteen-year-old asked her, stopping on his way to the dorms.

“One of the new students is hiding in a tree.” Mrs. Tyler sighed, “It’s all right, Riley. Don’t worry about it.”

The tall boy gave the tree a sympathetic look, but walked on, mindful of his teacher’s instructions. Other children were not so kind. A group of boys were crowded under the tree, laughing loudly at the absurd spectacle of such a small boy showing such stupid audacity.

“Why not?” Mrs. Tyler asked, clearly trying to hold onto her temper, “Why won’t you come down.”

A pause. “I wanna go home. I’ll get down if you send me home.”

Before Mrs. Tyler could reply, one of the boys called up, “Hey, aren’t you that orphan kid?” Silence. “Shit, you don’t have a home anyways! What’s the big deal?”

“Shut up!”

“Brett.” Mrs. Tyler called out sharply, “Be quiet and get to your dorm.” She watched, making sure that the boys complied. Finally, she turned her eyes up to Cobalt, “They’re sending Mr. Valiens now. This is your last chance to come down on your own.” Mr. Valiens was a phaser and head of security. The little shadow in the tree shifted slightly but otherwise gave no sign he had even heard the young telepath.

Finally, Mr. Valiens appeared. Literally. He took one look at the tree and sighed. “Young man,” He called up sternly, “You have three seconds to start moving from that tree or I will come up to get you and you will be in trouble.” He paused, “One…two…” When Cobalt didn’t move, the phaser sighed, rubbing his temple, “Fine… Three!”

Mr. Valiens phased. Cobalt leapt out of the tree.

It was quite a long drop, and the little boy took a tumble, but he rolled up to his feet and began a dead sprint towards the edge of Hammel and the beginning of the town. A little blonde girl beside Mrs. Tyler gasped, “Oh my gosh.” The reaction from the other students was explosive. Most laughed, some cheered; the majority of the students couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted this wiry little boy to escape or get caught, but either way, it was hilarious.

Mr. Valiens had figured out what had happened almost immediately after he had phased and his face was stony as he phased out of the tree and in front of the would-be runaway. Cobalt skidded to a stop, and scrambled to change direction, but the security officer plucked Cobalt off his feet and tucked him under his arm. Cobalt shouted angrily, kicking and squirming in the older man’s grip, to no avail.

“All right, there’s nothing more to see here.” Mr. Valiens said briskly, “Everyone go to your dorms, it’s almost curfew. Mr. Weaver, I will escort you to my office. We need to talk.”

Mrs. Tyler nodded her thanks as the security officer carried the boy out of sight. She looked down at the preteen girl staring worriedly after him. She touched her shoulder, “All right, Elaine. Time to go.” The little girl nodded and walked off in the direction of her dorm. The young English teacher sighed, running a hand through curly brown hair. What a day.