ladyfirestarter | desert places

They shouldn't have too far to go, Olivia thinks. The entire complex is pretty close to no and where already.

But she quirks a smile as she glances at Charlie, then turns her attention to the window to take in the dusty landscape.

Dusty, yes ... but as Charlie said, far from empty. There's a great deal of plant life in evidence -- mostly low shrubs and small gnarled trees, sage and juniper and piñon pine -- and, to the sharp enough eye, a great deal of wary animal life as well.

Something small and rusty brown (probably a rabbit, Charlie thinks) bounds away as she pulls the car to a halt, some fifteen minutes from the complex.

Hopefully, the animals will keep clear in case things get out of control.

Things won't. Olivia has to hope they won't. But...that's why they're this far from the rest of the complex, isn't it.

She steps from the car and shields her eyes against the sun, casting an assessing look over the spot.

"It's rockier around here," Charlie says as she closes her own car door. "Less dry greenery to catch fire in case anything gets a little out of control. But just in case -- I asked them to stick a dozen gallon jugs of ice water in the trunk before they sent up the car, and if we want to actually do anything with fire on purpose I'm gonna recommend we soak down a circle to work in first."

She exhales a long breath, letting her hand fall. "Okay."

Olivia moves toward the open space, putting more distance between herself and the car. Extinguishing a brush fire is one thing; blowing up their only mode of transport is another.

"Should I start with something I've called up before, or go straight to the fire?"

"Let's leave the fire for last, I think. What kind of something were you thinking of?"

"Either the glimmer, or..." She considers it before shaking her head, dismissing the idea. "I was going to say moving between worlds, but I don't know if this spot will be empty on the other side."

Or if -- since she's moving from a universe not her own -- it'll be even more difficult to get back.

"Well, that's the advantage of using a desert spot. They tend to be pretty, well, deserted. No matter which world you're in."

Charlie glances at her. "If you're not sure, though -- I take it you can't see through to where you're going until you're there?"

"No," she says. "There was one time, when we were dealing with an outbreak of soft spots, where I could see Over There. But...that was the nature of the spot, not anything I did."

Charlie nods. "It's sort of the reverse, with some of the people here who can do that," she says. "When it's a natural thin spot, you can sometimes tell it's there but you can't really see through it. But if somebody makes an opening between worlds, it sort of --" she gestures -- "acts like a window."

At least by all accounts.

A slight, wry smile. "If it's that different, maybe I wouldn't be able to cross worlds anyway."

At least Over There obeys the same general laws of reality as Olivia's own universe.

"Maybe not."

She knows what she'd do in Olivia's place, but for right now she's not going to advise unless she's asked.

"So...the glimmer."

She kneads her palm with the pad of one thumb. Another idea occurs to her: "Or telekinesis. I managed to trigger a low-level variety of that once."

"Telekinesis sounds simplest." A slightly crooked smile. "And we've got plenty of rocks to throw."

She mirrors the smile. "True."

All right. Olivia closes her eyes, squaring her shoulders as she searches for the internal switch. By now, she has a vague idea as to the location of some of the other switches -- the glimmer, the world-walking -- but telekinesis only happened once, and never spontaneously.

A breeze kicks up, stirring some of the dust near her feet. There's no way to tell if it's her doing or the wind.

Eventually, she puffs out an explosive breath and shakes her head, opening her eyes.

Charlie's watching her. "No luck?"

"No luck," she confirms. When she shoves her hair back this time, there's a lot more sharpness to the movement. "It's like I can't find the switch. I know it's there, but..."

"You've done it before once, you said, right? What kind of situation was it?"

"I had to defuse a bomb," she says. "There was...this person who'd been involved in the creation of the Cortexiphan kids."

That seems like the easiest way to sum up David Robert Jones, despite some inaccuracies.

"He tracked some of us down to test us. My test was turning off a light grid telekinetically; if I didn't do it within a certain amount of time, a bioweapon would explode over Boston."

Charlie's eyes widen. "Jesus," she mutters.

Olivia nods.

"High pressure situations seem like a fairly reliable way to trigger manifestations in most of us," she says. "But there's too much potential for that to be spontaneous, not deliberately controlled."

(What she wants to ask right now is did you at least get the bastard later? -- but that isn't the subject at hand.)

"Yeah," she says instead. "I don't think we want to try and recreate a similar state of pressure here."

Another crooked smile. "Exactly."

Olivia glances down at some of the pebbles near her feet, sizing them up.

"Any other suggestions for how to find the switch?"

She considers it.

"What about ... instead of recreating the situation, what about trying to relive it? Call up the memory of what you were thinking and how you were feeling, as vividly as you can?"

Like the fear she latched onto the first time she triggered the glimmer. It makes sense: maybe the key is assigning different emotions to different abilities.

Because while she was afraid in that skyscraper, it wasn't the gut-wrenching fear of glimmer. It was steel; it was determination; it was the nerves of one bullet left in her gun and a fast-approaching target.

So. You can do this. You have to do this.

Do it.

Olivia spreads her fingers, the emotion heavy and rock-solid against her stomach. Another breeze whispers across the ground.

And this time, it starts to grow.

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