A/N: This idea started pestering me a few days ago. I wasn't planning on following through with it, but as soon as I started writing the first chapter I got hooked. Because I have several other projects going on (Rose; Seven Ways; The Secondaries; preparations for NaNoWriMo; and, of course, real life) I'm not sure how far I'm going to continue this. I'll just see how it goes. ^-^
I do not own Wizards. Full summary at bottom.
Psyche [ˈsʌɪki] - noun; the human soul, mind, or spirit.
Alex died on a Thursday.
Nothing important happens on Thursdays, she had always stated with certainty. Thursdays were dull, gray-and-brown days reserved for soap operas and dermatologist appointments. It was as though the deities, both evil and benign, stayed in bed with a can of TaB and let their underlings take care of the work on Earth. Anything on either end of the spectrum was strictly prohibited. It would be illogical.
On October thirtieth, her theory was proved wrong before she made it to school.
October 30, 2008
"We need to talk. Now."
Theresa approached her daughter during breakfast. Alex stared back with bleary eyes, one hand rummaging inside a box of cereal. The TV blared out an unedited rap song, which Theresa was quick to silence with a ferocious flick of the remote.
"What about?" Alex wrapped the fleece blanket tighter around her stomach and rubbed at her cold arms.
Theresa took a seat on the futon. "Are you sick?"
"Umm... I don't think so." Alex avoided her mother's intent gaze.
"So your throwing up three times a day is nothing to speak of?"
"I don't know what y-"
Theresa shook her head. "Your brother was kind enough to rat you out."
Furrowing her brow, Alex raised her knees up in front of her chest. "It's nothing."
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that." With a stone face, Theresa pulled a blue, oblong object out from behind her back. Alex groaned with recognition, but before she could argue Theresa had jumped on the case.
"Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? This is a big thing! Do you realize what you've done? Do you realize how badly you've messed up your life?"
It was the mechanical spiel Alex had expected, and Theresa was living up to it word for word. Alex stared at the carpet, letting her vision blur, and tuned out the prattling of her mother's voice. She ached to crawl back into bed; at once she felt quite envious of Snow White. A glass coffin would be ideal at the moment.
" - and I hope you weren't planning on just getting an abortion, because you know I would never, ever allow that-"
Alex decided that the coffin would be soundproof.
Theresa ended her lecture with an exasperated huff and whisked downstairs, shouting a warning about the time. Thirty minutes to get ready. Tasting bile in the back of her throat, Alex rose from the futon and stumbled towards the bathroom.
The door was locked. Swallowing hard, Alex leaned her head against the wall and moaned. She wanted to grab her mother by the shoulders and scream, "I know!" until her voice gave out. Everything her mother had gone on about, every warning and every bad name, had been tugging at her mind for weeks. She knew from the start that she had made a dire mistake. Images flashed through her mind - orange light slanting across the floor of Dean's apartment ... empty words whispered in her ear ... the final fight only days later. Her poor judgement haunted her day and night, more so than any word from her mother would.
"So she finally figured it out."
Alex didn't even turn to look at her brother. "Only because you told her."
"She needed to know." Justin dropped the mocking voice. "She's right, this is a very big thing, and you can't deal with it on your own."
"Shut up." Alex clamped a hand over her mouth, willing the entire loft to vanish. She needed to be alone, but foremost, she needed a trash can.
Sighing, Justin passed her and continued to his bedroom. He was fully dressed, with his dark hair combed and a fresh pack of floss in one hand. His perfection was sickening.
As the bedroom door slammed shut, the bathroom door cracked open and Max appeared, his cheeks red and water dripping from his hair. With wide eyes focused on the carpet, he hurried past his sister without a word.
"But how did he figure it out?" Harper asked for the third time. She pursed her lips and screwed up her brow in concentration.
Alex shrugged. The crowded hall of Tribeca Prep was the very last place she wanted to be, with her bed topping the list and the city morgue coming in a close second. There was too much laughter, too many couples nuzzling in corners.
"Well... Have you told Dean yet?"
Alex's fingers faltered on her locker's dial. "Not yet," she muttered. "Haven't gotten the chance." And I don't plan on it either. It was not a mere rumor that Dean had already found a new girlfriend. Her name was Lauren, or something to the effect, and she wore dark red lipstick.
Harper frowned. "He really does have the right to know." As menacing as her stage whisper was meant to be, it was dulled by the school-bus yellow of Harper's handmade dress, adorned with felt bananas.
Alex took a long, deep breath. "I'll tell him, alright? I'll call him over the weekend." She wasn't sure whether or not she meant it, but Harper appeared satisfied.
"Good." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I just think it's the right thing to do."
"So do I," Alex said, a scowl on her face, "but that doesn't mean he's going to care."
Harper wrinkled her brow in concern. "He'll care, I'm sure of it. It's his ba-"
"What eighteen-year-old guy really wants a kid?" The locker door slammed shut, and Alex looked at Harper with a sarcastic sneer. Harper muttered an apology and followed her best friend down the hallway.
"You know," she said carefully as they entered their classroom, "I think you would be a lot happier if you started telling the truth-"
"I don't need a lecture, Harper."
Harper pouted, but closed her mouth. There was no arguing with an angry Alex. In fact, she mused, there was no arguing with Alex at all.
This is going to be a long nine months.
Max Russo had a bad feeling. It had been nagging at him from deep inside his chest ever since he had woken up that morning, and even a long, hot shower and sugary cereal in front of the TV had not calmed his nerves.
When he did not fall asleep in geography, he knew something was wrong.
"Psst." Max felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, and turned his head. Behind him a tall, red-haired boy grinned.
"You still coming tomorrow, right?"
Max pursed his lips for a moment. His thoughts were lagging. "Um, yeah," he whispered. "Halloween party. I'll be there."
"Cool." Sean's grin widened, revealing black-banded braces. "Can't wait to break out the martian suit. Bummer that your mom won't let you dye your-"
"Shut it, Mr. Willis, or you're butt's going to the principal's office." Sean shied away under the glare of the horse-faced Mrs. Downing, and Max turned around to face the board. Mrs. Downing was writing something about Oceania in blocky letters.
Max looked up at the teacher. "Can I go to the restroom?"
"It'd better be an emergency."
The air in the hall was refreshingly cool. For the first time, Max noticed that he was sweating. It seemed logical to visit the nurse, but what he really needed to do clear his head.
Maybe I'm coming down with a serious disease, Max imagined as he strolled the hallway, taking bites of some taffy he had found in his pocket. By the time I get home, I'll be covered head to toe in big, purple spots. There's no way Mom's making me do my homework tonight! ... Actually, she'd probably call an ambulance if I had purple spots. That wouldn't be too bad - I'd totally get to ride in a gurney. But what if this disease is so rare that no one knows about it, and then I'll die at the hospital? ... Death would be kind of exciting. I mean, if you could come back afterwards and all.
He had been standing by the window, chewing taffy, for quite awhile before he noticed Alex. She was crouched on a wooden bench, earbuds in her ears, making herself small. Every so often she would glance up at her brother with annoyance.
"What're you doing here?" She removed the headphones and sneered in apparent disgust.
Max shrugged, forcing a smile. "I, um, didn't feel well. I needed some air." There was a long pause, then he added, "What about you?"
"Skipping. It's none of your business." She tugged at the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
"Well..." Max began to walk away, "it's been nice talking to you."
"Wait." Alex's words surprised both siblings, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Removing it, she gave Max a faint smile. "So I'm trying this new honesty thing," she said hesitantly, "and I thought I'd start with you."
"Okay?" Max raised one eyebrow.
"How do you feel about being an uncle?"
He faltered, then the corners of his mouth raised into a sweet smile. "Can I play with their toys and use them to get on kiddie rides?"
Alex couldn't help but chuckle.
"Sweet." Max had already known - however serious the subject, Justin could not help but blab about his discovery. It was part of his prying nature.
There was a long pause between the two, during which Max produced another wad of taffy and offered some to a sugar-craving Alex. For several minutes the two sat with their knees touching, their jaws popping as they chewed on the sticky candy. When the bell rang, they quickly separated and began to go their own ways.
Max really did love his sister, in spite of the taunting and pummeling. He guessed that it just came naturally to siblings, except perhaps his father and sulking aunt. Then again, it seemed unlikely that Alex thought of her brothers as any more than brainless punching bags. Things would only get worse from here - Max knew very little about pregnancy, but he did know that it meant a monstrous appetite and a lot of bad words. It was almost comical to think of Alex stuffing her face at three in the morning. As he returned to his classroom, he dreamed vaguely of videotaping the whole thing.
A final bell rang at four thirty, marking the end of detention. Alex marveled that her class-skipping had not yet gotten her expelled. It would be much easier on the staff, she imagined. Through the tall front windows of Tribeca Prep, Alex could see rain falling in grey sheets. Groaning, she pulled her thick hair back and tried to cover her backpack with her arms. The front door was heavy, and by the time she made it through her face was already dripping.
"Shit, my mascara!" Alex stomped through the puddles on the front steps, conscious of black trails forming on her cheeks.
"Too bad you don't have an umbrella."
Alex's chest swelled with hatred as she saw Justin sitting on a bench to her left. He was reclined with his arms resting on the back of the bench; rain ran off of an invisible bubble that encircled him.
"I hate you," Alex said, wiping her face. Traces of black makeup showed on her fists. "What're you even doing here?"
"I'm your chaperone. Mom and Dad seem to think you need one." He paused for a moment. "Can't say I disagree."
Alex kicked him in the shin, warranting a loud curse.
"Hey, hey," he said, "I don't like it anymore than you do." As he spoke he reached under the bench and pulled out two small umbrellas. Alex snatched hers, opened it, and began to stalk off.
The rain picked up after only a few minutes, and the umbrellas did little good. By the time they reached the entrance to the Sub Station they were both dripping with cold rain. When Alex muttered about magic transportation, Justin replied, "It was for your own good. I mean, do you really want to be killed by Mom? Believe me, she's fairly homicidal today."
This turned out to be quite true. All day Alex had been dreading her mother's wrath, and Theresa did not disappoint.
"You're dripping all over the floor! Ah mi Dios, just put on something dry and start on your homework. I'll deal with you later. And don't you dare let me catch your mind wandering or your butt's not leaving this building till you're thirty!" There was more, mainly Spanish phrases. Alex figured that leaving wet footprints across the tile floor did nothing to lessen her mother's temper. She hurried upstairs, followed by Justin.
"As much as I would love to babysit you," Justin said as they entered their loft, "I'll be at Zeke's house. We have some costumes to finish."
Alex said nothing. She flung her backpack onto the floor so hard that Max, who was seated at the counter with a sandwich, nearly toppled over in surprise. Then, with her shoulders hunched and her eyes set on the floor, she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. As soon as she was truly alone, she fell face-first into her bed and began to shake with sobs.
She could hardly believe it herself. She had only cried three times in her memory: once out of sappy joy at her quinceneara, once during the fateful vacation to Puerto Rico, and again after the harsh break-up with Dean. Pregnancy seemed to be taking its toll on her - once she started sobbing, she could not seem to stop herself. Her face became red and pinched, and she was soon gasping for breath. Her hands clutched at the pillow shams, desperate to rip them apart. After nearly ten minutes her body finally calmed down, and she fell into a restless sleep.
It was almost six when she was awoken by the buzzing of her cell phone. Groggy and disoriented, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket and blinked at it like an amnesiac. Flipping it open, she answered with a weak, "Hello?"
"Hey, I wasn't sure if you'd gotten your phone taken away or something, but I called anyway, obviously. How are you feeling? Your mom said you were working on homework?"
"Harper..." Alex wanted to tell her best friend to shut up and leave her in peace, but she was too lethargic to close her phone. "I'm doing alright," she said with a sigh.
"Good. I stopped by to visit, but your parents have me bussing tables now for the dinner rush. Ooh, and I have something important to tell you."
Alex sensed tension in Harper's voice. "Shoot."
"Dean's here. He has his girlfriend with him."
The phone nearly fell to the floor, but Alex caught it in her shaking hands. "Dean's here?" she repeated. "Dean and his girlfriend..."
"Yeah. Lauren, the one with the black bob and the scary makeup. She just ordered black coffee and a ham and cheese without the ham..." Harper continued to prattle, but Alex heard nothing after "Dean's here". Dean's here. Dean's in the Sub Station. It echoed in Alex's head.
"I'll be down there in five minutes." The words slipped out of her mouth before she could catch them.
"Alex!" Harper sounded appalled. "You know you can't leave. You'll only get in more trouble!"
"No. No, I won't." Alex was forming a plan. "I won't get in trouble, because it won't be me coming downstairs."
"You know, I can just take a picture with my phone. That would be a lot less risky-"
Alex closed her phone and tossed it back in her purse. She could not get out of her room fast enough. What was that spell again? Her mind raced as she crossed the living room, headed for the stairs. She crept down two steps and peered into the kitchen; Max was still sitting at the counter, his nose in a comic book. Perfect.
Once she opened her mouth, the body switching spell came naturally. Screw the bugs, she thought. It would be worth it just to catch a glimpse of Dean.
"... Corpora, Sua Nominavi." The last syllable escaped her lips, and she felt herself being lifted out of her own body.
Faintly, as if through a thick wall, she heard a loud crash. At first she felt alarm, but a more dire problem arose:
Everything had gone black.
It was a mystery how all of Manhattan did not hear the crash. Max sat frozen at the kitchen counter, wondering if the loft might come down around him. It seemed likely. He would be dead at any moment, buried in the rubble. No one would find his body beneath the wreckage...
All at once, a searing pain cut across his eyes, and his vision went dark. Max sank onto a bar stool, his head in his hands. Maybe I'm dying, he thought vaguely. Dude, Mom's gonna be bummed. Or is everyone dead? Mom and Dad and Alex are still in the building. Oh no, Justin's gonna be all alone! Maybe I'll come back as a ghost, and I'll get to haunt the loft and scare him. That would kind of rock.
Max opened his eyes. The kitchen was still there. He was still sitting at the bar, clutching his head. Everything was alright. Groaning, Max stood up and rubbed at his temples. As he turned towards the back windows, squinting from the dull ache, he noticed something quite out of place.
At the foot of the iron stairs, lying face down with her black hair fanned out, was Alex.
Max crossed the kitchen in a few long strides, but when he reached his sister he recoiled. There was something terrible and unnatural about the way she had landed. She had crumpled at an odd angle, her limp arms and legs twisted about like a puzzle.
"Alex?" His voice was weak with fright. She wasn't moving; not a muscle stirred. Max leaned in closer and shook her shoulder. There was no response. She wasn't breathing, he saw with horror. Her face was stark white, and her neck was bent too far to the side. A cold fist took hold of his lungs.
"Mom! Dad!" Max hardly heard himself screaming. He felt himself rise to his feet, stumble, and collapse again. "Help! Somebody!" Tears rushed down his cheeks without his knowledge. The piercing pain returned to his head at once, and his screaming faded to a whisper. His face buried in the carpet, he was again overcome with the certainty that he was about to die.
"Honey! My goodness, what's-"
Max never heard the door open, but the sound of his mother's frantic footsteps as she sprinted across the room startled him into a sitting position.
"What happened?" Theresa was on the floor, checking her daughter's pulse, her forehead, everything that could be checked.
"She fell," Max blubbered. "All the way down the stairs." He rubbed a fist across his eyes, feeling foolish. Theresa was here now - of course Alex would be alright.
"Jerry! Hurry!" Theresa was yelling down the stairs now, and the building seemed to shake with the pounding of feet. Max burrowed farther into his coat, his eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched. Theresa called 911. Jerry called Justin and nearly shouted into the receiver. Crouched on the floor in his corner, Max tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. His sister was dead. His sister was dead, and she wasn't coming back. He was never going to see her again. The realization brought on another wave of tears. He felt dizzy. He felt sick. His head was going to split open.
Then, clear as a phone clutched to his ear, Max heard a familiar voice. It seemed to come from deep inside his mind, and a deep chill ran up his back.
"Where the hell am I?"
Full Summary: When a body-switching spell goes horribly wrong, Alex is killed ... or at least her body is. At first sharing Max's head seemed like an easy way out of death. But three tormenting years later, both Alex and Max have decided it's time for her to be put to rest. The tough part? Max is pretty sure grave-robbing is a crime. The siblings' final escapade proves to be difficult, especially when the goal is losing Alex forever.
Rated T for language.
A/N: I'm sorry this chapter was so long - I actually cut off about 1000 words. My goal was to get everything that takes place in 2008 into one chapter, but that didn't quite work out. Another note - while I watch the show whenever I can, I'm not super informed about everything. For example, i couldn't remember the body switching spell. If anyone knows it by heart, please tell me and I'll correct it. Also, I played around with the ages a little bit. All I knew was that Justin and Alex are one year apart. In this story they are 17 and 16 respectively, and Max is 13 (before he hit puberty and got curly hair).
Thanks for reading this far.