s*t*a*r*s 2 - pt 15

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It's FRIDAY!

s*t*a*r*s

            “But come with me?” offers Sydney.  “Dad, Hawaii and you already know everyone.  You’re being silly, please?”

            “Keep rubbing that in, why don’t you?” offers Mike.  He is slicing cucumbers for the salad he is making.  “I can’t get time off.”

            “Liar,” says Sydney.  “You can take time off, you never take time off and you know, as I know, that you have like seven weeks of vacation banked.”

            “And two plane tickets…,” says Mike.

            Sydney opens a rift up and pops up in front of Mike before he can finish the sentence.

            Mike shuffles back, ramming into the stove.  “Don’t do that!”

            Sydney giggles.  “Dad, who needs a plane ticket when you have me?”

            Mike wags the cucumber at her.  “No more doing that.”

            “Why?” asks Sydney, drunk on the power, it is momentary but it clings to her longer each time she uses her power.

            “What you have isn’t something you can just use where ever and when ever.  It’s something you have to hide,” says Mike.

            “Dad, you can be a hero with powers like ours,” says Sydney.  “And we don’t need to wear spandex either.”

            “But no one can ever know the hero you are,” says Mike.  He reaches for her, pulling her to him.  “Each time you use it, it’s a risk to you.”

            Hugging her father, she smiles into his shirt, his smell always makes her feel safe and loved.  “Okay dad, I’ll behave.”

            “Thank you,” smiles Mike.

            “….If you come to Hawaii with me.”

            Mike groans and rolls his eyes.   “You have a doctor’s appointment.”

            “I’ll go, it’s just a normal viral load test, please…,” begs Sydney.  “I’ve never felt better.  In the last few weeks the fatigue from the medication has drifted away and I feel wonderful.”

            “Oh, I’m sure you haven’t felt better,” says Mike sarcastically.  “I’ll go with you, but I’m flying.”

            “It’s weird that Tegan gets sick, no one else does,” muses Sydney.  “Did anyone get sick with mom?”

            “She rarely teleported anyone…  I cannot believe I’m having his conversation,” snorts Mike.  He moves back to the small island in the center of the kitchen.  The home is warm, there is a fire crackling in the stone fireplace. 

            “Dad, of all the things we’ve had to talk about, and this is freaking you out?” asks Sydney.  “We talk about sex, viral loads, condoms…”

            He laughs again.  “Point taken.”

            “So, we can leave, oh, tomorrow?” pleads Sydney.

            “In a few days, I have to get time off first,” chides Mike.

            “Fine, fine, fine, fine,” recites Sydney.

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