Alex watched the cab pull away from the curb, then returned to his apartment and, in an attempt to stop dwelling on Sarah, began cleaning. Despite his best efforts to stop thinking about the beautiful yong lady, thoughts of Sarah continued to distract him and he decided to abandon his efforts. He went into his studio, picked up his guitar once more, and began strumming it softly.

He closed his eyes as he played. Images of Sarah started to form in his mind: an image of her sitting across from him at the restaurant, another of her wearing one of his sweatshirts that only covered her to mid thigh. Finally, there was an image of her, removing that same sweatshirt and revealing even more of her spectacular figure. He still felt the lingering touch of her last kiss and the thought of her brought a small lump to his throat.

Alex heard the rustling of clothing behind him. Alex turned, opened his eyes and, somehow, was not surprised to see Weaver standing there.

"She's very beautiful," he said quietly. Alex scowled a little but could not bring himself to admonish the old man.

"How long have you been watching me -- us?" was all Alex said.

"I've only just arrived," Weaver replied. "I was merely commenting on the images you've created."

Alex turned to where Weaver was looking and there, hanging in the air between the wall and the stool he sat on, were the images of Sarah that he had just recalled, all three-dimensional and vividly detailed.

"Where did they come from? How did you--"

"Oh no," chuckled the old man. "This is none of my doing. These are all yours. Besides, my days of being infatuated by young women are very long past. May I ask who she is?"

Alex was still bewildered. "But I can't... I mean, I've never done... How did I do this? I need music to be able to do things like this."

Weaver sighed and looked at Alex like a small child. "What is it that you're holding in your hand?"

Alex looked down and realized that he was still holding his guitar. "So what? I've been playing music since I've been big enough to hold an instrument. I've never done anything like this before."

"Actually you have," replied the old man, "but I don't want to get into that discussion just yet. Now another question: Do you manifest powers every time you hear music?"

Weaver was starting to sound like some of the teachers he'd had in his early teens. He was asking leading questions of the sort designed to make a student realize the answer without actually giving it to him.

"No, I don't," replied Alex, mildly annoyed.

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't always feel right, I suppose," started Alex. "Either the music isn't forceful or catchy enough to generate a mood where powers manifest or the music is just at odds with the mood I'm in. Or maybe the music fits the mood but powers aren't warranted. Or maybe it's something else entirely. I've never fully figured it out. What are you trying to get at, anyway?"

"What I'm trying to get at," said Weaver, displaying infinite patience, "is that you don't manifest powers unless you're in the right frame of mind and there is a need to do so. It may or may not be that music may put you in the frame of mind you require."

Alex simply shook his head.

Weaver continued, "It does, however, seem that music is the vehicle by which those powers manifest, whether it be from an external source or in this case", Weaver indicated the guitar, "music that you yourself have made."

Alex sat on the stool, a stunned look on his face.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Uh, what?" answered Alex, only half-listening to the other man.

"What is her name?"

"Sarah," said Alex absently. "Sarah Steiner. Possibly the most amazing person I've met in my life."

"Nuts!" said the old man, stamping his feet. "I was hoping that I would hold that title for a while longer."

Alex smiled suddenly at the somewhat comic display. "Don't worry. You're a pretty close runner up."

"What about Jessica?" Weaver asked suddenly.

"Who?" Then Alex suddenly realized who, as he remembered his former, would-be girlfriend.

Curiously enough, instead of feeling guilt at not having considered her, Alex felt a sense of relief. If Jessica had chosen Alex over Gerry, Alex would have felt compelled to do the honorable thing and remain with her instead of following his heart, which now seemed to belong to Sarah.

"I think that it's best that things worked out with Jessica as they did." Something else also occurred to Alex just then. "I suspect if it had been Jessica with me today instead of Sarah, things may have been much worse for the both of us."

"Good. I'm glad that's out of the way. Good night."

Weaver managed to turn half way around before Alex stopped him with a "What? That's it? Good night?"

"You were expecting something more?" replied Weaver, seeming to be at a loss and somewhat embarassed.

"Well Yes!" replied Alex. "For starters, you can tell me how you keep appearing out of thin air, unannounced and without any warning at all -- and then vanishing again without so much a a 'By Your Leave!' And You still haven't told me how you know me or know so much about me!"

A short silence followed Alex's outburst. Weaver broke that silence by saying. "You already know the answers to these questions. You just have a little learning to do before you realize it. Good night, again."

Weaver took two steps and then paused, turned, and said, "Oh, give my regards to Sarah. She must be an extraordinary young woman to have made such an impression in such a short time. Your images show an impressive amount of detail." With that, Weaver left, this time by the door.

Alex didn't even bother to look for him on the other side of it - he knew the old man wouldn't be there.

Andrews read the report again. Weaver had once again entered and left the building without being seen. The suspicion had been that the meta had been teleporting since, once again, none of the sensors had registered his presence. Unfortunately, the internal sensors, the ones used to monitor Alex, failed to register any sign of the intruder. The teleportation theory whad been disproved by the absense of data; there had been no tell-tale rush of displaced air made by a body that suddenly appeared, there had been no additional weight placed on any of the floor plates strategically placed about the apartment, no infrared signatures other than Alex's or his companion from earlier in the evening. Andrews made a mental note to find out more about this "Sarah Steiner."

The level of anger Andrews felt was still there but it was now tempered by the fact that the problem would soon be eliminated. His negotiations with Fist had been concluded. Fist had not been Andrews' first choice owing to the fact that the mercenary had just finished recovering from plasma burns. Unfortunately, Shinobi had been unavailable and the meta called Mastiff, while more than capable, had an unfortunate tendency towards uncontrolled, psychotic behavior. Andrews did not want to risk irreparable damage to Alex in removing Weaver from the picture.

So Fist had been hired to remove the unknown meta that kept appearing to and speaking with Alex. He had been warned of the harsh consequences of killing the young man. He had, however, been given leave to render the boy unconscious if it proved necessary.

Andrews permitted himself a brief smile as he put the report through the shredder.

Soon, he said inwardly. Soon.
 

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