For the negative six people waiting for the outcome of my character blacking out (seriously, who reads this?!), here is the continuation.


The first sensation when I regained consciousness was a melon-splitting headache.  Wincing, I opened my eyes to a way too bright room, and three faces.
"May?  May, open your eyes, all the way," the blurry face with glasses said.
I did my best to comply.  Holy cow, when did the box get so bright?  It stung my eyes and I held a noodle-limp arm up to cover the light.
"What happened?" I gasped, reviewing myself for injuries or abnormalities.  My chest was heaving for breath and my elbows felt bruised.  I kept blinking until the fuzziness went away, and I could see Dr. Banner, Stark, and Capt. Rogers clearly again.
"You passed out from oxygen deprivation.  Using all that solar energy burned up the supply of oxygen in your body.  You should be all right in a minute," Banner told me, timing my pulse with his watch.
The captain held my other hand.
"Lie still, May.  Keep breathing."
"Slowly, you don't want to hyperventilate," the doctor said.
I put my head back and took four deep breaths until the desperate desire for air went away and I struggled to sit up, leaning into the captain as the room started spinning.
"You all right, May?  Everything feel normal?" Stark asked, waving something electrical in my direction, picking up readings.
"Yeah, I think so.  I've never done that before," I said, still not completely settled in mind and body. 
"I'm pretty sure we don't need to repeat the experience anytime soon," Stark said, standing up and going back to his data terminal.
"Did you learn anything?" I asked.
"Loads of things.  We should make you an alternative energy source," Banner quipped, satisfied with my pulse's normality.
I smiled, the dizziness fading away at last.
"Who's greener, you or me?" I teased him.
Shifting to stand up, the captain caught my elbow.
"You're sure?" he asked, looking me in the eye.  Annoyingly, I blushed, and hid my face.
"Yes, I'm fine."
Rogers helped set me on my feet and walked me out of the box, Stark and Banner tapping away at their screens.
"It's pretty impressive that you can choose what energy you want to produce.  And from the looks of things, you can choose from quite a few," Banner said, talking and typing at the same time.
I came up to the set of screens, trying to see what he saw, instead of rapidly calculating numbers and flashing charts and graphs.
"What's there?" I asked.
"JARVIS, tell the little lady about her big power," Stark called out, still focused on his screens.
"In order of strength, energy readings include nuclear, solar, electrical, lunar, magnetic, radio, heat..."
The information trailed off as JARVIS listed a bunch of words that didn't register with me.  I looked down at my hands, the same hands they'd always been, pale skin with visible blue veins covering the long fingers and wide palms.  It almost overwhelmed me that these hands could produce nuclear power.  I knew after the first energy outburst that started all of this that there was something a little bit different about me, but to hear Stark and Banner explain it all in detail...
I felt dizzy again and caught myself on Capt. Rogers.

You know what time it is?  Yes, it's time for me to indulge in one of my favorite guilty pleasures...WRITING FAN FICTION.  Oh, yes, that's the kind of girl I am.  Read if you dare.




"Are you sure about this?  I might blow up the building," I said, raising an eyebrow at the test.
Tony Stark snorted lightly, taking my doubts about his construction design a little personally.
"Relax, this thing could absorb a nuclear explosion.  Actually, three nuclear explosions, or four nuclear meltdowns.  In," the brilliant engineer said, shoving me towards the chamber.
The heels of my sneakers squeaked as I planted them in the floor, still cautious.
"How do you know I won't do something to destroy myself?" I asked.
Stark rolled his eyes.
"We won't go overboard.  Don't worry, we'll be very careful with our science," Dr. Banner spoke up behind him from his numerous monitors and scientific instruments.  I looked back at him and he gave a sincere and encouraging nod.
I turned back to the chamber door and took a deep breath.
"Okay, then."
I stepped inside the big square box made of incredibly strong metal and glass.  Well, at least, I thought it was metal and glass, but it was probably more impressive.  I went to stand in the center, watching Stark join Banner behind the panel of monitors that would track and record everything I did inside the box.
"JARVIS, you around?" Stark said to the air.
"At the ready, sir," the smooth British accent echoed from the speakers connected to his CPU.
"Let's get started."
The door of the box slid shut and clanked as it locked and sealed me in.  My ears popped from the sudden pressure.  A wave of claustrophobia swept across my nose but I put it aside.  I could see Stark and Banner, but more important, I could see the emergency escape switch on my side of the door.  Not a prison, just a box.
"Do your thing, May," Stark said over the loudspeaker.
I screwed up my mouth in a pinched frown.  I didn't really have a "thing", and it wasn't something easily switched on.  I tried to concentrate, but just found my brain working itself up.
"Come on, do something."
I turned my frown on Stark but he wasn't even looking at me.
"We're waiting!" he whined at me, and my blood pressure was the only thing that changed.
"Stop yelling at me!  I'm not your experiment!" I snapped.
Finally he looked up, brown eyes reflecting the light from the box.  He was a handsome devil, but Banner knew he was going about it all wrong.
"May," the doctor began, "hold up your hands and just think about the lightning."
I stopped glaring at Stark, but I still frowned.
"Okay," I said, in a voice that promised to try, but was doubtful of success.
And yet, it was stupidly simple.  I held up my hands, closed my eyes, and remembered the feeling of those huge electric bolts shooting from my fingertips and sparkling off my palms.  The strange pull of energy beginning at my heart and streaming through my arms, and there was the solution.  I opened my eyes, and the box was lit up like a summer storm.  The shock of it made me stop at once.
"Whoa," I murmured.  I glanced at the panel of monitors and Banner and Stark were having a similar reaction.
"JARVIS," Stark said at last, "analysis."
"Direct current electricity, power of two hundred thousand watts at maximum strength, power of ten thousand watts at minimum."
The data flashed up on the glass walls of the box for me to see as the computer spoke.  Fancy graphics and charts spun before my eyes.  Behind the data-covered windows, Banner and Stark focused on their tools.
"All right, May, you want to try something else?" the doctor asked.
Recklessly, I shut my eyes again and let the lightning flow out of my hands, and thought about nothing but the source.  The power emerging from my core felt a little different, and I opened my eyes to look, hoping not to freak out.  All around me, light glittered like fireworks, arcing back and forth between me and the beams of the box.  It didn't look like regular lightning.  Cautiously, I took a step forward, letting the energy dance around me.  I noticed the lightning licking across my feet and arms, and felt nothing more intense than what was coming out of my hands.  Suddenly, I dropped the idea of just emitting energy from my hands, and the light emerged from my skin everywhere.  I could feel lightning burst from my nails, my hair, my kneecaps, my teeth.
The pull on my core became stronger, but not overwhelming.  I looked outside the box, seeing Stark and Banner both staring at me with wide eyes.
The lightning stopped.
"What is it?" I asked them.
It took them a moment to respond, gathering their thoughts.
"May, you're emitting enough energy to light up all of North America," Dr. Banner said.
"It's more than just electricity," Stark said, examining his monitors. "It's a combination of electricity, light on all wavelengths, solar energy, and more, and it's extrememly potent."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So it's not just light?"
Stark shook his well-groomed head.
"Nope.  Is that all you can manage?"
He asked it without condescension, looking at me in quiet fascination.
"I can probably do more."
The far doors of the lab swished open and an elegant pair of people entered, Stark's assistant and CEO of his industries, Pepper Potts, and the noble patriot, Capt. Steve Rogers.  The captain smiled at me and I smiled back.
"What's going on, Doc?" he asked Banner, not taking his eyes from me.
"We're getting a read on May's abilities.  It's pretty impressive," Banner told him absently as his fingers flew across his monitors.
Rogers nodded, and joined him and Stark behind the bank of research equipment.  Potts handed Stark some papers and then quietly withdrew, not interested in disturbing what seemed more and more like a very important study.
"She's just about to show us the extent of her skill, or at least give it the college try," Stark said, equally distracted in his response.
Rogers looked over the monitors, gazing at the readouts, then looked up at me.
"Don't overdo it, May.  No sense in straining yourself," he said.
I resisted the intense urge to sigh.  The captain was such a kind man, to me especially it seemed, but my opinion was disgustingly biased.  Ever since he, Stark, and Banner had discovered me in that well-buried government prison, his face always brought relief.  My powerful core tingled at the memory of him carrying my broken body out into the spring rain, to freedom and safety.
"I'll be careful," I promised.
"Let her rip," Stark said.
I took a deep breath, filling my chest completely.  As I exhaled, I let everything my core could produce radiate out.  Electricity zapped off my eyelashes, the box became a blinding source of light, and I felt like my feet floated over the floor.  Slowly, a weight pressed down on my chest, making it difficult to get a real breath.  I focused, trying to identify the different energies I could produce.  Solar power flowed out of me, and I felt pleasantly warm for a few minutes, every inch of me sparkling gold.  Then the strain started to become too much, and a block of ice formed in my already-heavy chest.  I struggled for breath while maintaining the gorgeous light, and the cold overtook me in spite of the warmth all around me.  Collapsing to the floor as I heard JARVIS speaking over the blood pounding in my ears, I blacked out.

I'm watching Rear Window right now and it's making me smile.  I can relate to the beautiful Lisa Fremont who's in love with her own occasionally-grumpy camera bum.  I'm not exactly the fashionable model Grace Kelly (an $1100 dress would probably cause me to faint), but I do admire her.  And luckily Eric doesn't have a broken leg or things could get interesting in a homicidal neighbor way.


But anyway.


My parents have been gone a while, looking after Dad's parents.  Grandma fell and broke her hip, and things looked a little risky for her for a bit, but she rallied, and Dad says she's going to be okay.  Long recovery, but that sounds way better than the alternative.  It's been pretty stressful on everyone, and I think we're all looking forward to normalcy.  Soonest.


In the meantime, Jack and I have been looking after ourselves (newsflash: we are low maintenance cooks).  I also have to remember to water the plants and do dishes, Jack does trash and gets the mail.  Yay temporary roommates!  I have no idea what we'll do about the lawn, but I'm sure it'll be fine.  Sadly, it took us five days to get the mailbox open.  We're dysfunctional but functional?  Oh, well, the house is still standing, we haven't killed the cars, each other, or anything else, and, um, yeah.


Aside from our domestic hysterics (wee!), I went to the Champions Workshop last weekend with all the lovely people from Minnesota, Mike and Eve, Dee and Jeremy-Many=Names.  They were all great.  Mike and Jeremy are really fun dancers, especially Jeremy.  I danced with him twice and he likes to play.  That's so rare but fun.  Eve is very sweet, and Dee is just wonderfully sassy.  She taught us to groove, and I'll admit that I probably look like a total goof working my hips but I love it.  I need more groovy swing and blues.  And someone to dance with me to that music, but it would work alone.  We also got to watch the Heartland Hepcat and the Cowtown Cow hang out, dance, play Rock Band.  Good times.


Otherwise work is work.  I'm excited for Sunflower Swing, getting away for a little while, seeing my other grandpa, and maybe shopping?  I feel like I need something pretty to wear.  I love my new purple shoes (even if they cost me more than a pair of Aris Allens), and after learning from Mike, Eve, Dee, and Jeremy, I'm pretty psyched to keep learning dance.  I still love it.  I wish I had more time and money and ability to devote to it.  I fear the infamous game of Bases I went to over Memorial Day has done something to my leg.  Or it could be stress, I'm not really sure.  My left leg hurts, I do know that.  But yeah, more dancing.  Dance, dance, dance.  I don't know if I'll get to STL this summer, as I'd like to, but maybe I'll just save it up for Nevermore in November.


One never knows.


I wish I could dress and look more like Grace Kelly.  So glamorous, though I don't know if would do me much good.  I think I'll stick to being just me.  It's worked so far.

"I'm home!"
The housekeeper, Mrs. Koraleski came out of the kitchen as I put down my bags and started pulling my coat off.  She took my coat from me and smiled.
"So nice to have you home, Miss Violet.  Your aunts have been waiting most anxiously for you.  They can't wait to celebrate your birthday," Mrs. K told me, hanging my coat up and waving me into the kitchen.
"Have they indeed?" I asked over my shoulder, while my stomach led me towards the smell of cinnamon rolls.  Yes, they had been expecting me.
"Is that my little girl?  That stylish young lady?"
My stomach was temporarily waylaid by the sound of my Aunt June's voice.  I smiled at the mature woman of seventy, beginning her years of being known as "cute little old lady", who was wearing a pale blue silk dress trimmed with fine lace, and sock monkey slippers.
"Still your little girl, Aunt June.  I promise."
June Ames smiled her pert little smile.
"Don't be so silly, Violet.  You're 22, you swear, you drink, you wear impractical underwear, you are hardly a little girl.  But you still come home for your birthday to spend time with your decrepit aunts, so I appreciate the efforts," she said, teasing me.
I grinned.
"Where else would I spend my birthday?"
"With your sophisticated college friends, of course, like other girls your age."
I shrugged and resumed my journey for cinnamon rolls.
"My friends can hang out with me later.  They know this is tradition."
Aunt June laughed softly from behind me.
"Such a good girl.  Bella tells me she has a special treat for you, just for the occasion."
I raised an eyebrow and swallowed a very large bite of cinnamon roll.
"You guys didn't get me a stripper, did you?" I asked cautiously.  Aunt Arabella, or just Bella, was notorious for that threat.
"Goodness, no, dear.  We have to serve at church this weekend, we could hardly do such a thing in good conscience."
I smiled again and munched away at my snack.
"Not that you won't have a very handsome date for dinner this evening.  We couldn't let you go stag on your birthday, even if it is with just your aunts," June said, dropping the statements like Fat Man and Little Boy on Japan.
And then she whisked out of the room while my mouth was full and I knew I'd have to wait for an explanation later.  Aunt June was crafty like that.  But I didn't mind.  June and Bella had raised me since I was four, and became my official guardians at six.  My father was their younger brother, and he and my mother had no interest in having children, and even when they did they had no interest in raising one.  My aunts came to visit for Christmas and found me cooped up in one end of the house with a nanny who was barely seen.  Aunt June pursed her lips and carried me off to the Ritz-Carlton, and Aunt Bella called Social Services, fired the nanny, and gave my parents an earful.  My parents never took me back, but I was happier with my aunts anyway.  June had been widowed young, and Bella never married, so we became an odd little family, but it suited us.  I couldn't ask for a better place to be than with my two demure little aunts in their stylish brownstone, Mrs. Koraleski the housekeeper, and Mr. Koraleski the driver.
As I finished my cinnamon roll, I pondered what birthday surprise was in store for me.  Aunt June would've only vaguely disapproved of the stripper, and Aunt Bella could be crafty too.  I theorized that my former French tutor would be draped naked across my bed when I went up to my room, and my dreamy British History TA would somehow be using my shower.  My aunts, for all their perceived daintiness, were not above something like that.  But I was sure Renard was married by now (he was too handsome and intelligent not to be), and Oliver was back at Brown, so I didn't theorize too far.