Maverick

Youve been unwell for some time, Lexion”

“No kidding” 

Liberty’s attendant jabs his tongue against the inside of his cheek to delay his reply. He’s learnt over the eleven years of serving the maverick how to wisely respond to her sarcasm.

“You know” he decides finally on a line of attack, pouring her morning electrolyte infusion into the glass tumbler chilled overnight and placing it beside her prostrated body; “II’d hoped the sass would become as non-existent as your appetite.”

His wittiness is met with a short sharp lipsucked smile. To most, this may appear as annoyance. But those who know Lexion well enough know that she loves a challenger; she thrives off of competition.

“Ooo” she quips, dark eyes sparkling upwards with approval at his smug expression (he is clearly pleased with his jab),” I see your bedside manner is evolving, Gill. But be careful - you need to partner some charm with that irresistible baby face if you’re going to bag yourself a girl before I retire. Otherwise you’ll be stuck nursing me into my spinster days, and trust me, you won’t want to know what goes on under the latex suit”. This time, the attendant isn’t so smug and her winning quickness exposes a look of slight embarrassment. But not because Lexion isn’t incredible - of course she is easy on the eye and has a body built like a tank that will probably never wither away even with age. He is caught off guard because he realises that his boss, who was a teenager when she acquired his service, despite possessing supernatural powers is not immortal and so, unlike what the adoring Earthlings thought, she would one day become dust. Just like them.

“Earth to Glll” Lexion cranes her neck towards the chilled glass swirling with only nutrients she’s been able to keep down over the past few weeks, “wanna give your girl a hand, grab a straw and stick that sucker in this gob?” she points at the glass and then to her mouth which she opens and closes playfully like a predatory shark,” I know I have supernatural abilities but you know the Power’s strictly for the end of the world, civilian safety things only.”

Gill snaps out of his daze, complies and plucks a steel tube from the steel service tray. He forgets her current state and holds it out to her. As if she’s going to use all of her energy to sit up and hydrate herself?

Sorry, he says when Lexion stays firmly flat on her back and scratches intentionally at her satin bonnet to indicate her wish for him to move his little butler behind faster.. After some slight difficulty on Gill’s behalf (figuring out how to feed the liquid into his planked patient’s mouth within the limitations of a non-bendy straw - never plastic, Lexion was a new environmentalist) Lexion is finally hydrated and she feels almost instantly the goodness from the electrolytes shooting through her veins and into her stagnant limbs. She should’ve thought ahead and ordered IV on tap. Knowing now what she didn’t know before, Lexion imagines she’ll have to get used to being in this position. She may be in and out of bed, resting more and taking things slightly slower for the foreseeable. If her current circumstances progressed as they were, depending on the great decision she still has to make.

Gill is clumsy packing up the morning service tray, he crashes around it like a disorientated ballerina. What is wrong with him today? Lexion watches him from her bed, unsure if she should find his display humorous or concerning. He is always professional and poised in her presence, it’s what makes him a stellar attendant and why he has lasted so long as her employee. Gill is almost like family to Lexion. A hardworking man but a quiet sometimes unseen presence in her hectic and complex life. Today he is so loud and visible, clattering around the bedroom, clocking a ninth day with the shutters down. It is the only space that Lexion feels completely hidden away from the prying eyes and neediness of the civilians just beyond her skyscraper apartment, even though her whereabouts are still a tightly kept secret. Lexion frowns at Gill’s scatty movements, wincing from the awkward angle of her gaze; she should at least make an attempt to sit up soon, being flat like this for so long is making her feel even more lazy and giddy. For once she is slightly unnerved by Gill’s presence. He catches her eye in the dimmed light, tries a dismissive smile but makes no attempt to scoot out of there like he normally would to leave his boss to her peace and privacy.

“Does he know something’s up?” Lexion restlessly grapples at a braid, loose from her bonnet and starts picking at it. She is paranoid and wishes Gill to just go somewhere else in her sprawling abode. He’d be more useful handling Kilo’s nagging calls on her behalf. The alliance’s heavyweight needed convincing that Lexion would be back in the game in no time and just needed a little more R&R following their last rumble which had truthfully whipped her harder than she’d expected.

“I’ll be back for lunch to check on you” Gill is finally backing the tray out of the door, though his face registers lingering concern. But when he notices his watch and realizes he is behind schedule, Gill's normal composure resumes as he checks back into professional mode.

“Maybe we can try a little protein today? I can blitz some grass-fed chicken with a sprig of parsley and a touch of turmeric and ginger into a soup. I’ve heard the ginger root does wonders for nausea and the turmeric root is excellent for inflammation. We’ll get to the bottom of this stomach issue, Lexion. We’ll flush out the little bugger in a matter of days.”

“Please God don’t,” Lexion interrupts and groans loudly. 

As in Please God don’t come back in here to check on me and Please God don’t come back in here with even a whiff of food. The thought of especially cooked meat makes her instantly moan into her silk pillow.

Gill starts to grimace again. He can’t remember ever seeing her this unwell.

“Ok, scrap the chicken soup. I’m getting your specialist here ASAP.” He pokes his head back around the door. “It's Olivier, right?”

Lexion punches down on her pillow, reshaping the air between the goose feather filling. She is starting to feel irritable now. Why is he still here? She huffs to herself.

“Don't you dare call him, Gill. It’s not necessary. You’re too antsy, you’re making me antsy”

Gill takes the rebuke on the chin and remains cool

“You’re too much of a hero, Lexion.”

“That’s what they’re paying me to be!” she says in a moody sing-song tone, glaring up at her ceiling rose. “And if you keep yapping away like this, I won’t get back to being the hero soon enough. Close the door behind you, Gill. I have a virtual check-in appointment with a GP this afternoon anyway. If you want to help me, please go and tell Kilo I have some infectious stomach bug to deter him from swinging by.”

She hears Gill sigh, almost sadly but certainly with defeat. There’s no winning with Lexion. She always gets her way. Strong-willed in every way, even whilst being almost bed-bound for several days. 

When the door finally closes shut, Lexion waits until she hears the elevator outside ping before shoving the pile of pillows away and pushes up to her elbows to survey her surroundings. Her stomach pings as she uncoils her stiffened body, instinctively flexing her core. Lexion is startled to find herself so disheveled after this period of inactivity. She almost breaks into a sweat as she rolls out of the bed, drapes herself in a robe she spots on a nearby chair and just about makes it to the window seat before feeling faint. She slumps back, catching her breath and presses her hands against her fluttering stomach. Geesh; she groans; this is worse than getting sucker punched or winded from a physical fight. Maybe some real oxygen instead of the sterile air con will do her some good. 

Lexicon suddenly remembers her balcony is still locked and cursing and laughing incredulously. The lock is the result of her super controlling ways to keep herself safe in the case of an unwanted party - journalist, robber, revengeful or drunken civilian - entering her apartment from the balcony. Gill is the keeper of all of her apartment’s keys, apart from this one. He knows exactly who enters, and who exits. Well, most of the time….

The balcony, an extension of her bedroom’s safe haven, is Lexion’s and Lexion’s alone. No one has access unless Lexion permits it. Which is how the masked caper, who’d caught her eye that summer, first infiltrated her life and then left it in swift succession after he broke her heart. Just like all the other fetish crazy men she’d attracted, who only saw the super in the human, and not the human beneath the super. Sad really. Lexion, completely aware of her own humanity, is still learning how to handle the complexities of being flesh and blood - just with a little extra speciality. 

She has the Power, an extraordinary ability completely unique to all who possess it. An ability not earned, but given. Not always wanted, but assigned. Hers was her inheritance, a gift (depending on perspective) passed down to her through her mother’s bloodline. A family chosen, from some even higher power they suspected, at some point in time, to nurture and use for the good and health of others. Lexion is one of thousands living amongst the general population, some known, some unknown, expected to carry out the destinies dumped on them. Begrudgingly, Lexion accepted the call after her Power mentor advised her it was the only way she’d escape “screwing up her life and going off the rails” like every other orphaned teen growing up on a hedonistic Earth. Be a somebody for somebody; were his parting words. Lexion still holds these words dear and even though she will never forgive him for leaving her like mother did, she respects him for his wisdom and passing her over into the capable hands of life time assistant Gill. 

And so here she is present day in the midst of a metropolitan jungle. 

Alive and still kicking it after fifteen years of destiny dueling. 

Hopefully not another statistical screw-up. 

Doing her bit for humanity within an alliance of other Power-gifted individuals. 

But currently struck down with a “stomach issue” and wondering Just where the hell did I put my key for the balcony?

“I thought the idea of my chicken soup made you gag?” 

“Its not your chicken soup I'm seeking Gill”

“Oh?”

“Have you dealt with Kilo?”

“Yes, for now. And the others. Garnet and Zen are more sympathetic about your situation.”

Lexicon scoffs. That's because they're women, she thinks and yanks the duvet towards her chin. She is shivering now the air con is doing her head in. Gill clears his throat as Lexicon stifles a sneeze but then ends up choking down the phone line instead.

“I have Oliviers number to hand. I can phone him right now…”

“Drop it Gill. I don't want your blessed soup nor that know-it-all specialist. Bring up my Mac and a notepad from the office. I have an appointment with a GP in an hour. I will be fine. Everything will be fine.”

Everything is not fine.

One hour later, the key is still missing. And fifteen minutes late for her appointment due to an unforeseen puking episode, Lexicon is a polished turd, trying too hard to persuade the solemn GP that she's been recovering.

But the GP just sighs at her through their connected webcams.

“Your bloods and tests say otherwise I'm afraid Lexicon” he informs her grimly.

“Oh really?” The maverick fakes surprise although she is already twitching, unraveling a braid. She knows very well how sick she's been, no amount of makeup or cheeriness ca truly disguise it. But Lexicon catches herself and quickly perks up,“What seems to be the problem, Doc?”

The doctor repositions himself and holds up a wad of result papers to the screen. He watches the sass drain from his secret patient's face at the sight of the tables and numbers. He is not her GP, at least not the one her assistant or alliance knows about. He is here for a special task, for as long as she requires his service. Which has yet to be defined. And by the outcome of her most recent health stats, the doctor guesses today's check in will change everything.

From the depths of her bed, Lexicon muscles up the energy to sit uprht and blink into the⁹

PDoesnt find the key

Goes back moodily to bed to await call from GP

“Come on Doc. You said it yourself - daily rounds of IV, some more sleep, I should bounce right back and be up on my feet again. Okay, so I know I'll have to be extra careful immediately before bowing out, but I trust my body. She's tough, she's been through the worst things and we all know women everywhere have been doing this thing for generations…”

“Lexicon, your body isn't responding well to the pregnancy,” the doctor cuts in, pressing his thumbs into the corner of his eyes. Sometimes he wonders why he puts up with her, her overconfidence is draining.

This time, Lexicon is genuinely surprised. She glances nervously at her closed door almost anticipating Gill to intrude on her at this most inconvenient time. She is aware the very word she has not spoken out loud has now been uttered and its mention makes everything feel very real. 

Gill has been hovering around her like a mother hen, she was sure he'd guessed something more than an ongoing stomach distension was going on.

“What do you mean?” Lexicon asks in a lowered voice, woozy as she leans closer to the screen. “You said…”

“I know what I said, Lexicon. But you must understand. I was speaking from a standard case. I'm sure you don't need me to remind you that you are far from a standard case…”.

Yeah sure, not every other orphaned teenager screw up. She has the Power. And that alone is enough.

Feeling annoyed that she had missed the crucial detail, Lexicon clasps her hands together to stop herself from thumping something. Her palms rest over her middle and as it fires up at her touch, she drums against its walls moving her finger tips down until they hit the little bump. Ĥ

Usuall quirky sassy self - asks Dr, so how long til i get back into tip top condition Doc, send over some pills and an IV and all be good as rain. 

Doctor is more sombre and serious

Says it may get worse from here - her body isnt taking well to the preganancy

Lexion is annoyed, it dawns on her this is true, she has been struggling but been hiding it, thinking its just a short phase and she’ll get over it soon and be ok to get back to it\

Doctor informs her that baby could have further impact on her - more sickness, days out. Inconvenience. To address the inconvenience, she could just terminate.

But if she did, she would lose her power - if you dont save a life, you lose ability to do so in future. She can press on and keep baby but she could put health at risk? 

Moral dilemma - rid baby because it reminds of past, shes not really mother material anyway, wants to just get on with life. Keep it because its morally right, wants mentor to be proud, wants to do what his words say.

 Phone call with dr? Discuss options?