Author's note:

Hey there, ladies and gentlemen. First of all, I want to thank you all for the patience you have shown in waiting for this chapter. With the current global conditions keeping the kids off school, I haven't had as much peace and quiet to dedicate to writing as I would like, hence the delay in getting this out, unfortunately this means that future chapters will not be as regular as originally planned either. They are still coming, but I will get them out as I can, rather than sticking to a schedule as I had hoped.

Secondly, there are a few issues I would like to clear up from questions sent to me by readers. There will be no mention -- whatsoever -- of the coronavirus or the current situation in any of my stories. There is too much pain and human suffering in the world already without filling our fantasies with them as well. Another issue is the glaring holes around some of the characters; Pete's parents -- for example. I know their histories, thought and motivations haven't been written in yet and that is intentional, their stories will be revealed as our hero goes through his own. Finally, this story isn't designed or written for people looking for a quick thrill. This is not a sex story, it is a story that contains sex, there will be fairly long parts of it that contain nothing erotic at all. If you can stick with it though, Im will try to make the wait worth it.

Lastly... (and sorry to drag this out so much) ... but I cannot go any further without expressing my heartfelt thanks and appreciation for the comments -- both complimentary and critical -- that my work has received. Messages off strangers on the chat rooms, and through my profile, wanting to discuss my work is something that I never expected and means the world to me. You are all amazing people and I thank you all.

Anyway... now that's out of the way... on with the story.

*****

I had never been a morning person; even before the accident, I had always thought that mornings would be infinitely easier if they were later in the day. Since the accident, it had been worse; every morning I had woken up in the same bleary eyed, semi-conscious, pain med addled state of confusion, in no way helped by new newly realized need for extra rest... but today was different. The sleep in the bunker was a revelation, not only was I wide awake, fully alert and properly rested, but I could somehow tell you exactly how long I had been asleep -- both in the bunker and in the corresponding time in the real world -- down to the minute. Being awake at 7.25am... voluntarily... was something that would take as much getting used to than the power itself.

I stretched -- both physically and mentally -- feeling my powers extend around me in the same way that my body was. I picked her up immediately, Becky was entering the building. The bubble of joyful apprehension that had greeted be the previous day, however, was gone, replaced with something indescribably harder to read.

It is worth me clearing up something at this point, something I wouldn't fully understand for a while yet, but reading people's thoughts wasn't like you see on the tv. I couldn't look at someone and read their deepest desires or darkest fears or suddenly know their atm number; everyone talks to themselves inside their own head, that conscious running thought process that each of us uses to guide our actions - every time I had heard someone's thoughts, it was this internal monologue that I could hear: everything from 'shit, that girl is hot!' to 'did I remember to feed the cat?... all the other things were possible -- the desires, fears and atm numbers -- but accessing them was a conscious -- rather than a passive -- act and one I wouldn't master for some time yet. Becky's mind was pulling her in so many different directions that it was impossible to follow her train of thought.

Trains of thought were still -- apparently -- assholes.

At first, I thought it was me, that I was still tired, that I didn't have enough control over my powers to read her thoughts from this distance, or that maybe I wasn't as powerful as I thought, but by the time she had changing into her scrubs in the locker rooms and made her way to the nurses station, it was clear that it was her that was the problem; her mind was racing so fast that not even she could keep up with it. There were, however, some very clear emotions being given out by my beautiful new lover; excitement to see me, nervousness about how I would react, but -- more pressingly -- concern, bordering on panic at something that had occurred to her last night, something that I couldn't quite decipher. I felt her finish her conversation with her colleagues at the nurses station outside my room, look towards my door, take a deep breath, and start walking towards it. Right on cue, my door opened.

Her smile was brilliant, yet hesitant, as she crossed the room and sat down into Jimmy's chair, "Good morning." She smiled, I returned the gesture, reaching out and taking her hand. "How are you feeling today?"

"Awesome." I replied, it was the truth after all and although Becky was partly responsible, I had more things to feel good about than she could know. "How about you?"

"I'm... err... Pete, we need to talk." She said as her smile faded, her eyes casting down to her feet.

"Look, if this is about yesterday," I said, a sudden pang of concern sparking in my chest, "I'm sorry if anything happened that you weren't comfortable with, if you want to walk away and have nothing more to do with me, I will understand... I'm not gonna lie, I will be disappointed, I really enjoyed yesterday, but I understand the position I have put you in." I started, still completely in the dark about what was bothering her so much, "but either way, nobody will ever find out off me what happened, not even Jimmy. I am not going to put your job at risk with some childish need to boast."

Becky scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, before smiling. "This isn't about yesterday... well, it is... but not in that way. I loved every minute of what happened yesterday and am looking forward to a repeat performance," a seductive smile crept onto her face before vanishing just as fast, "that's not what this is about."

"Then what's bothering you?"

"Pete, I..." she paused for a moment, looking down at our joined hands, "I don't think you understand the condition you are in; you're not stupid, so I'm guessing that it hasn't been explained to you properly... but what we did yesterday..." another pause "... shouldn't have been possible."

"I'm not following."

She breathed out another deep sigh. "Your legs weren't just broken, they were destroyed. Your right femur -- your thigh bone, the strongest bone in the body -- was shattered, it has the same consistency as gravel! But that kind of damage doesn't happen in isolation, there is tissue damage, muscle damage, nerve damage, circulatory damage... the Doctors aren't talking about you needing physical therapy just because of your brain injury -- although that is part of it -you need it because the mechanisms that make your legs work are no longer intact."

"O...Kay."

"Pete, did it hurt yesterday?... what we did?"

"No, not at all."

She let go of my hand and buried her own face in it. "It should have," she whispered in despair, "it really, really should have... it should have been excruciating! There is no way that you should have been able to handle what we did."

"Well, that's a good thing... isn't it?"

"No!" she barked back. "It could mean major nerve damage! And more than that, you were..." she rocked in her hips in her chair, "...thrusting, you were moving your hips up to meet mine. You shouldn't be able to do that, and even if you could without passing out through the pain, it could have caused massive internal damage to what's left of your legs and pelvis!"

"Bex," I said, trying to sound reassuring, reaching out and retaking her hand, "I'm fine."

She yanked her hand away from mine, trying desperately to cover the look of guilt and despair on her face, "You don't know that! Neither of us do!" she sobbed "What if one of those bone fragments was knocked loose, what if it pierces your femoral artery? It could have killed you! It could be there right now and your first attempt at physical therapy could be enough to... I even phoned in during the early hours for a nurse to check on you, I made something up about not being sure about the pain med dosage and asked her to check for me." she broke down, her shoulders rocking as her sobs increased. "I need to tell someone. You need to be tested again -- X-Rays, MRIs, CT scans -- whatever it takes to find out what is going on, find out what is happening with your nerves and how much damage I have done. And when they ask how I know or why I am suspicious... I am going to have to tell them what happened."

"No!" I almost shouted, surprising her out of her rant. "There is no way I am letting you get in trouble for that! You may have loved every second of what we did but so did I! I told you that I was never popular with the ladies and that was true, after the accident I thought my life was over, and then I met you; a woman who I would never have thought would be interested in me at the best of times, let alone in my current condition... and the thought you would be interested in me gave me more hope than I could ever tell you, the first hope I have felt since I woke up. There is absolutely no way I am letting you pay any sort of penance for that... it's not fair and it's not right and it's not going to happen!"

The tears were still running down her cheeks, there was genuine anguish in her expression and not -- I quickly realized -- about the prospect of losing her job, or worse, but at thought of her inadvertently harming me more than I already was.

"Look, I'm not downplaying your concerns here; I would very much like to live, I'd be very happy to walk again and I feel like I owe you a proper round two," she smiled slightly and blushed at that, "but there has to be another way!" I finished.

She pulled her hands back up to her face, rubbing her eyes and wiping the tears off her cheeks, then stood with a sigh. I was about to tell her to sit back down, thinking she was heading to the door, but instead she walked to the end of my bed and picked up my charts, leafing through the pages with a frowned look of determination. Both of us remained quiet for a few minutes, her deep in concentration and me not wanting to disturb her. Her lips were moving silently as she read along, but her thoughts were annunciating every word she read, the whole time trying to think of something that could be done to justify the new round of tests without drawing suspicion.

"come on, come on." She was thinking to herself, "I've just found this guy and there is no way I am losing him now! I've just got to find something... anything... to give them a reason to..."

Her eyes suddenly widened. "Do you think you can sit up?" she asked, looking up at me. "After all these weeks healing, your bones should be able to handle that level of mobility without causing any damage."

"err..." I put my hands onto the mattress and pushed myself into as upright a position as my casts would allow. "apparently so."

"and that doesn't hurt?" she asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicious disbelief.

"a bit stiff," I shrugged, "like I have been laying down for two months, but no, not painful."

She shook her head, dismissing the incredulity that was screaming around her brain. "Ok, the Consultant... Doctor Matthews... will be making his rounds at 9, make sure you are sitting up when he gets here, use some pillows or something to make yourself comfortable... that should be enough."

"You sure?"

"Patient needs to be kept in a flat, laying position at all times," she read from my charts, "under no circumstances should he be bent at the waist when transferred between beds, transported around the hospital or undergoing testing. Extreme risk of further injuries if patient isn't kept immobile. Consideration of traction apparatus to be given at a later date." She finished reading. "that is in his handwriting... if he sees you sat up, he is going to go berserk, but as soon as he realizes you are not in pain, he will demand tests to find out why."

"Sounds like a plan." I smiled, laying myself back down.

Becky breathed a sigh of relief, her mind calming almost instantly and -- for the first time -- the effects of my internal editing started to take effect; apparently, concern over my wellbeing was enough to activate the 'within reason' clause of my commands. Her tongue wetted her lips before they curled into one of her spine-tingling sultry smiles. "So," she purred, "tell me about this 'round two' that you owe me." She sashayed back to her position next to the bed, putting her hand on my shoulder and stroking it gently.

"I would much rather show you." I smiled back.

"Name the time and the place, and I'm yours."

"Maybe next time you are on a night shift, you can sit on a different part of my body. I have favors to return."

Her whole body trembled in anticipation, as she leant down to whisper in my ear. "When you get out of here, I am going to fuck you so good and so hard, that you'll end up back in a wheelchair."

"Oh really?" I grinned back as her tongue licked my earlobe.

"And... there is one more hole and a perfectly good cleavage that haven't felt your cock... yet" It was my body's turn to tremble as she kept talking between licks of my ear, the sexual aggression part of my changes were starting to have an obvious effect. "I am going to pleasure you in ways that you have never imagined, baby."

My dick had now tented visibly under the sheet, a tent that was noticeably larger that last time I had seen it, Becky spotted it too, her hand moving down from my shoulder and under the sheets, a few seconds later I felt her warm fingers wrap around my shaft and slowly start sliding up and down my newly enhanced member... the difference in its size either not noticed or not cared about.

"Good thing I locked the door when I came in and I'm not officially on shift for another half an hour." She winked as she flipped back the sheet and her head moved down to join her hand. Once again, my whole body arched as the feeling of her hot breath on my dick was quickly replaced by the warm wetness of her lips, sliding quickly down to take my whole length. There was no teasing this time, no edging and no drawing out the pleasure; as the power of her suction increased, and the speed of her head bobs quickened, I realized that her only focus was on making me cum as quickly as possible. Her blonde ponytail was swishing around my groin and flapping in the air as her efforts increased, her head now almost a blur as she engulfed my entire rod into her throat -- even more impressive considering my new size -- then quickly drawing off almost to the tip, before repeating the motion again and again. Her one hand had buried itself in her scrubs, no doubt preforming a poor imitation of the pleasure she was giving me, while her other was caressing the semen out of my balls with astonishing efficiency, most impressive as the fact that her efforts were putting no weight whatsoever on my groin -- apparently, her wanton lust was not enough to override her concern for my wellbeing, she was being careful in her application of pleasure. In a little over five minutes, her effects started to pay off and my balls started tightening; that familiar feeling churning in my gut and my cock swelling to make it even harder than it already was. She pulled her mouth off, the hand on my balls coming up to replace it -- and its motions -- as she turned to me with a wicked smile. "Empty your big balls into my slutty little mouth, stud! I want to swallow you again." Her mind blazing with the memories of my taste in her mouth and her savoring of it for her entire shift yesterday. He fingers buried in her cunt the following evening as she sucked her own tongue for more.

In less than a second, her mouth was back to work, and only a few more seconds after that, I passed the point of no return. With a silent roar, my whole body tensed, and Becky pulled back so only the head was in her mouth, her hand working furiously on the shaft and her tongue licking whatever part of my skin it could find. In an instant, my cock started pulsing uncontrollably as I unloaded rope after rope of cum into her wet, willing, and waiting mouth, her throat working to deposit the load into her stomach with gulp after loud gulp... In another feat of impressive dedication, not a single drop escaped the vacuum seal of her lips as she slowly descended back down my shaft until her nose was pressed against my pubes, and then slowly pulled back, milking the last of my essence as she did. One last swallow and she released me, a smile -- and a feeling -- of contented satisfaction at her efforts filled her face, her thoughts soaring with the pleasure she felt from pleasuring me and the refreshed essence on her tongue.

"Wow." I whimpered, "that was..." my mind couldn't think of a single adjective to describe what that was.

"I'm glad you liked it," she smirked seductively. "there is plenty more where that came from, big boy..." her tongue came out to lick her lips, "you taste yummy too. I'm looking forward to my night shift now." And with a wink, she left me -- slack jawed and drained -- and walked to the door, "don't forget, be ready at 9" she called over her should as she left the room, a wry grin playing on her face.

There is nothing quite like the clear headed clarity that a quality blowjob brings... any release would do I suppose, but the passive 'laying back and letting her do her thing' was hard to top, it was also an experience that had been sorely missing from my life up until the last few days and one that I was keen to reintroduce myself to in greater numbers and variety. Jimmy had gotten by on a lifestyle of playing the field for years, and although I had no immediate desire to follow his lead, I would be lying if I said the prospect of hordes of nubile, horny and 'skilled' women throwing themselves at me wasn't appealing. I vowed to take my opportunities where I would find them, but not necessarily go out looking for them... Becky was more than enough for the foreseeable future, but something inside me told me that other opportunities wouldn't be lacking, nor would they necessarily interfere with the thing between me and Becky if I didn't want them to.

It was still over an hour until the Consultant started his rounds, I had hoped to use this opportunity to properly explore my bunker, or at least the computer within it, but there was simply not enough time. In hindsight, I would have realized that the time worked differently in my bunker and I would have had hours -- comparatively speaking -- to work on whatever I wanted, but my mind hadn't quite crossed that bridge yet.

It has always surprised me how time works; the concept of time flying when you're having fun or dragging like a lame donkey when you're bored as shit! I know its all relative and down to perception but the hour or so between Becky leaving and my performance to Doctor Matthews seemed like the longest wait of my life. It wasn't even as though I had any particular nerves or apprehension about the meeting; I knew I was fine, I knew that my powers would make sure of it -- yes, I understood Becky's concern, as I would understand the Doctor's, but they didn't know what I knew and I had no realistic way of explaining it to them. Instead, I was relegated to a position in which I had to bear more tests and more unnecessary concern over an issue which -- if only in my mind -- was already settled, all the while, counting down the minutes until I could return to my bunker.

Finally, the hour arrived, and at 9am on the dot, Doctor Matthews -- accompanied by a gaggle of other junior Doctors -- strode confidently and authoritatively into my room.

"Good Morning, Mister Roberts," He started, having not looked up from the clipboard in his hand yet, "How are you doing on this..." he finally looked up and stopped his sentence short. His eyes flashed back down to his paperwork, looking -- his thoughts told me -- for anything that would suggest he was in the wrong room or looking at the wrong notes, the fact that I was sitting bolt upright was enough to make him question the hospital he was in, let alone the room. Satisfied that his paperwork was in order, he turned his sights on me. "What are you doing sitting up?!?" he almost yelled, the concern and consternation taking over his features in a heartbeat. "NURSE!!" he bellowed into the corridor.

A few seconds later, Becky ran in, the impressive - yet fake - look of concern on her face at the Doctors outburst almost enough to convince even me. "Yes, Doctor?" yes replied through labored breaths, she took one look at me and her face dropped in horror, "Oh my god! Why are you sitting up?!?" she screeched before rushing to my side.

"Who put this patient in the incorrect position?" the Doctor demanded, Becky's flustered attempts to gently dislodge the pillows behind my back hampered by my reluctance to let them go, and her half-assed attempts to remove them.

"I... err... I don't know, Doctor." She breathed. It was an impressive display of acting, one that I would normally be more than a little concerned about, but I knew enough from Becky's thoughts to understand that she only lied under extreme circumstances and my condition certainly qualified.

"What do you mean, you don't know?!?" the Doctor screamed, pacing across the floor to the opposite side of the bed to where Becky was working, "You're his lead nurse aren't you? When was the last time you were in here?"

"Yes, I am." Becky replied, still portraying a look and demeanor of abject panic, "I was here a little over an hour ago, he was in the correct position then."

The other Doctors in the room were busily looking at their own paperwork -- apparently copies of the ones held my Doctor Matthews - each of them was slowly realizing the reason for the consultant's outburst. "If I find that anyone in your department has jeopardized my patient and ignored my instructions, I swear to god, I will..."

"Woah!" I interrupted him before this went too far, "Calm the fuck down, Doc. What's the problem?"

"I'm sorry, Mister Roberts," Matthews composed himself, "but you should not -- under any circumstances -- be sat upright, I need to find out who put you in that position."

"I put me in this position!" I calmly stated back, playing the part of confused and oblivious patient, "What's the issue?"

Matthews, all his accompanying doctors and -- in an Oscar worthy display of acting -- Becky, felt their jaws hit the floor. "You?" Becky asked suspiciously, "you sat yourself up?"

"Wasn't I allowed to?"

"Err... no. No, you weren't" Becky replied, the shock convincingly displayed across her lovely face.

"Anybody think to mention that to me?" I asked, pretending to be confused.

"Wait..." Matthews found his voice again, "you sat yourself up?" I nodded, "without help?" I nodded again, my eyebrows raising to highlight the apparent stupidity of his question. "How?"

"Err... the same way I usually do?" I over enunciated every word, as if I didn't understand his query.

Another silence settled over the room as each person within it flicked their eyes between each other. "It's got to be the pain meds." Matthews announced, walking around to Becky's side of the bed and checking one of the machines linked to my arm, it took only a few seconds for his eyebrows to frown even further than they already were. He picked up the clipboard on the table next to the machine and checked the readings over the past few days; apparently, they didn't make things any clearer. Becky was standing back to allow Matthews access to the machinery -- her hand over her mouth in shock. "Are these readings accurate?" the Doctor asked her, gently this time.

"Yes... I'm certain of it." Becky nodded.

"And the machine is properly calibrated?"

"The anaesthetist has been in to check it every three days." Becky confirmed. Apparently out of ideas, Matthews fell silent, his hand raising up to scratch the back of his head. Becky waited a few seconds before speaking again, "You don't think it could be..."

"Nerve damage," The doctor finished, shaking his head in dismay "It has to be, it's the only explanation."

"Err... Anyone wanna tell me what's going on?" I interrupted, trying to sound worried.

"Mister Roberts," Matthews' eyes flashed back to mine, seemingly only now remembering that I was still in the room and part of this conversation. "We... err... we're going to need to run some more tests."

"I know, you said that the other day."

"No, I mean we need to do them now!" he clarified.

"O...kay... care to tell me why?"

"Look, there's... um... there's no way you should be able to sit up, at least not without an extraordinary amount of pain, which you are obviously not feeling..."

"No, none at all." I frowned,

The Doctor grimaced but kept talking, "and if by some miracle you managed to sit yourself up and ignore the pain, there is absolutely no way you would be able to keep yourself there with the damage done to your bones and leg muscles. More than that, I am concerned that the extra movement may cause additional damage to your lower extremities; we need to lay you back down and get these tests booked in for as soon as humanly possible."

"More damage..." I muttered as I allowed Becky to remove my pillows and lay me back down, "Great. Didn't think to tell me any of this before now?"

"The only way that this is possible is partial nerve damage," the doctor continued, ignoring my question, "your nerves may be intact enough to allow limited movement, but too damaged to communicate sensation -- in this case, sever pain."

"I'm not following." I lied.

Matthews huffed and walked to the bottom of my bed, hoisting the sheets up to expose my feet -- the majority of which were encased in the casts. "Close your eyes and tell me if you feel anything." he sighed, already anticipating the answer. I closed my eyes.

He stuck a needle into my toe.

"Oww! What the fuck, Doc!"

"You felt that?!?" the look of incredulity on the Doctor's face would have been hilarious in any other circumstances, but his jab genuinely did hurt like hell.

"Of course, I felt it! What the hell is wrong with you!?" I yelled, jerking my leg away from him. Becky was trying her hardest not to smirk at this point, apparently, I was playing my part perfectly. Matthews had adopted the look of a bewildered schoolboy, his thoughts screaming with equal levels of confusion and concern. "Look, I don't know what has gone wrong here," I said, trying to look like I was yet to calm down, "but you must've made a mistake somewhere" I flipped the sheet off the rest of my legs, exposing the full casts on each of them. "I can feel everything," I wrapped my knuckles against the plaster, causing everyone in the room to either gasp or physically wince "and it doesn't hurt that much; yes there is a little bit of an ache, but I haven't moved in weeks so I assumed that was normal. I don't know what you want me to say, Doc, but stab me like that again and I'll jam one of these casts up your ass! With or without my foot still in in it!"

Becky had to pinch herself -- hard -- to suppress a giggle.

That seemed enough to pull the Doctor out of whatever thoughts were still bouncing around his head. "I apologize, Mister Roberts," he started calmly, "I didn't intend to cause any pain or discomfort, but the test was necessary. We need to get these tests done as soon as possible and I'm afraid that will involve a full body MRI scan..." I feigned a look of frustration but let the Doctor continue, "I know it's not what you want to hear, but we need to find out what is going on."

I huffed out a deep breath. "Fine, do what you need to do." I felt bad at my treatment of such an obviously skilled and compassionate medical professional, the guy was just trying to do his job but -- unbeknownst to him -- was dealing with a patient far beyond his understanding. This guy, under normal circumstances, would be almost solely responsible for overseeing my care and recovery, if I were ever to have gotten better -- in the pre-power days -- it would have been mainly thanks to him; he didn't deserve this treatment, but the need to protect Becky was more important. Regardless, I silently vowed to find a way to make it up to him.

"Can I see all of the medical staff outside, please." Matthews announced calmly. One by one, the consultant's entourage filed out of the room, Matthews and Becky -- both bidding me farewell - a few steps behind them; my nurse lover looked over her shoulder, her eyes meeting mine and flashed me a wink as the door closed behind them.

Normally, that would have been the end of it, but my abilities were letting me hear the conversation as it happened in the corridor. "So, what are we thinking?" Becky asked with concern, genuine concern this time; despite her excellent performance in my room, and her amusement at mine, she was still extremely worried about my condition, the doctor's lack of answers was doing nothing to calm her nerves.

"I have never seen anything like it," Matthews admitted after a short pause, "It has to be a misdiagnosis; if it's not a problem with the pain medication and it isn't nerve damage, a misdiagnosis is the only explanation that makes sense. But I checked the X-Rays..." Matthews was genuinely racking his brain trying to find a way to explain my condition, memories of the afternoon when my unconscious and badly broken body was wheeled onto his ward flashed through his mind; he had poured over the X-Rays, the pre and post op repots and every other shred of information on my condition in order to formulate a care plan for my recovery. Every ounce of his professional knowledge and experience was telling him that there was no way that a misdiagnosis on this scale was possible. Even if the ER doctors had messed up -- unlikely on its own -- the surgeons would have seen the mistake as soon as they opened me up. Then there were the countless times when -- during my coma -- my temperature had spiked, or my breathing had become laboured and he had to personally intervene to save my life... none of this pointed to a misdiagnosis. Something was happening that he couldn't explain, and unexplainable conditions in a medical environment were never a good thing. Like most of the dedicated medical professionals in the world, Doc Matthews took the care of his patients personally.

"Alright, here's what I want you to do..." he announced, apparently coming to a decision, "I want you to get someone from the Fracture clinic up here as soon as possible so we can get those casts off, then I need an X-Ray, MRI and CT scan -- in that order -- make sure they are all done today, if diagnosis give you any trouble, tell them to contact me and I will make sure they understand the urgency of the situation... I don't want some technician or some overly bureaucratic jobsworth fucking this up! Call me when the results are in."

"Yes, Doctor." Becky replied and -- after confirming that the Consultant didn't need anything further -- headed off to the nurses station to start on her list of tasks, her mind rejoicing the entire time that Matthews had taken the bait and my condition would be looked into properly... and that she hadn't needed to sacrifice her job to get it done.

Despite the flurry of activity around my condition, I had work to do. The feeling of being completely refreshed -- both from a dammed good sleep in the bunker, my performance to Doc Matthews and Becky's oral efforts -- was not only new, but indescribably invigorating; somewhere in my newly discovered subconscious, there was an internal editing station that needed exploring and with some free time in the real world until the next round of test, there was no time like the present to start looking into what I could do.

It was strange, I thought to myself as I entered my bunker and looked around; I obviously had no idea or what these machines were truly capable of, yet at the same time, I seemed instinctively aware of how to work them and how to find out. Marco had been a great instructor, but his limited experience and appreciation of technology seemed to limit not only his 'library' but also the way he used it -- Toiling through books seemed incredibly inefficient; to be honest, scrolling through information on screens and typing commands didn't seem like a huge improvement - voice commands were the way to go, something that Marco's pen and paper approach simply couldn't accommodate.

"Alright computer..." I said, somehow knowing that this would work, walking into the room and starting to pace in circles around the pedestal, pacing being something I often did when I was trying to think. "Scan my imagination, and cross reference all conscious and subconscious desires with attributes that my powers are capable of granting me... display the results on the main screen."

The main screen -- I had decided -- was the screen to the left of the door, the one still streaming the lines of decipherable data. It was easily large enough to be viewed from anywhere in the bunker without the need to seat myself in one position.

In a few seconds, line after line of abilities started scrolling up the screen, thousands of them... tens of thousands maybe. My eyes scanned the list as it scrolled by, my eyebrows raising at some of the more ... Novel... possibilities.

Asbestos skin -- immune to burning... I guess that could be useful. Invisibility: maybe if I was still in high school and had girl's locker rooms around, but otherwise, useless. X-Ray vision... err no. There were a few that piqued my interest though. Telekinesis: the ability to move objects with my mind, I can see how that would come in handy being sat in bed. Sexual stamina: ability to achieve and maintain erections all will, instant refill of testis after expenditure... Most fucking definitely, apply that bad boy now!

I smiled as row after row of potential abilities scrolled up the screen; some of them were ridiculous, better for little more than a party trick, the ability to perfectly imitate another voice or sound, for example. Others, such as hardened skin and ballistic shielding -- obviously for times where my life would under threat -- would normally be laughable, but the foreboding at the back of my mind about the threat posed by the Inquisitors made me take special note of them. Others, despite my request that only useful options be shown, were ridiculous...

Change my gender at will... As much as I love women, I have no desire to become one. Change my skin color... Look, the green chicks on Star Trek were pretty hot, the guys, not so much... besides, that would definitely be noticed... selective fertility, the ability to only reproduce at will; yeah ok, that one might actually come in handy.

I slumped down onto the sofa -- the one whose function I still didn't know - my eyes never leaving the screen as more rows scrolled up.

"May I be of assistance?" A voice sounded from behind me.

"holyfuckingshitballs!" I leapt from the sofa, spinning around to face the intruder and instinctively dropping into a fighting stance. I was momentarily proud of that last part, but my attention was instantly pulled towards the strange suited figure standing next to the pedestal.

He looked like... well... a butler, for lack of a better word. Immaculately dressed in a full suit coat and tails, he was only missing the top hat to complete the look of a man at the Royal Ascot races, standing perfectly upright, his hands clasped behind his back. A thin ring of grey hair circled the shining bald patch on the top of his head and a keen pair of grey eyes regarded me with a look of amused tolerance as he arched an eyebrow awaiting my response.

"Err... who are you?"

"I am you." He answered plainly, without a hint of humor on impatience.

I narrowed my eyes at the man, suddenly remembering that -- according to Marco -- nobody else could possibly be in this room. "Are you the Pete of Christmas future?" I asked, relaxing from my stance and standing upright. "Have you come back from the future to warn me about the Terminators?" my mind reached out for his... nothing, nothing at all... It was like he wasn't there.

His eyes never left me, he just stared indifferently, as if waiting for me to finish before answering my question. He raised a single eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm done." I mumbled, like a school child being scorned by a teacher.

"I am the representation of your subconscious, a guide if you will." He said calmly and politely.

I scrunched up my eyebrows, "I thought this whole room was a representation of my subconscious."

"You have been misinformed." He stated simply, "this room is little more than a tool, a way for you to interact with and interpret information from your mind. You give instructions, your subconscious applies them, there is very little two-way communication other than that." He paused, waiting for me to process that before continuing. "I am the embodiment of your mind, a way to directly communicate with your own subconscious."

"Oh... well... nice to meet you, I guess." I answered, not really sure what to do with that information.

"Likewise." He added without expression.

"So, where did you come from, you weren't here the last times I came in?" I had barely finished the sentence when my eyes widened in understanding. "The sofa! Of course, ..." I sat myself back onto the leather couch, giving myself a moment to appreciate the luxurious softness and comfort of it. "So, what's your name?"

"I don't have a name."

"Don't you think you should have one?"

"Do you?"

"Err... yes, it would make talking to you easier."

"If you insist, sir."

I narrowed my eyes at the butler. "You don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"

"And yet, I have a limitless supply of patience."

"You look like a Jeeves." I said after a pause, a pause spent scratching my stubbled chin.

"Very good, Sir." he said flatly, obviously not appreciating either his new name or the humor behind it, "Now, shall we continue?"

"Jeeves, you need to relax a bit, man." I smirked; I was going to enjoy teasing this man... myself... whatever. Nouns were becoming increasingly irrelevant in this room. "I am all ears, but you need to sit down and relax. I've never had a butler before..."

"I am not a butler."

"... but I'm pretty sure this overly formal personality is going to get old, quickly." I said, ignoring his statement, he sure as shit looked like a butler. "Hey, have you seen Iron Man?"

I could almost see his jaw clench a little. "Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

"well then, so have I."

"Right, of course... Well, be Jarvis," I smiled, "Helpful, informative, Sarcastic, much more amiable than this stick-up-your-ass routine that you've got going on." It was more of a tease than an insult, but the Jeeves' expression changed almost immediately, he rolled his eyes and sat down on the other end of the sofa. He took a deep breath, smiled with mild, humorous annoyance and raised his eyebrows.

"Much better," I grinned. "Please continue."

"How kind of you, Sir. Now, as I was saying; the devices in this room are little more than tools, there is no real intelligence behind them, the results of your request for a list of abilities should illustrate that... the ability to make your bowel movements glow in the dark -- although amusing -- would be absolutely useless. Communicating your desires through me would give much better results, moreover, having a comprehensive understanding of your capabilities, I am in a position to recommend abilities that would be more useful or appropriate in certain conditions without the need for you to assess the value of every possible ability individually. It would also save you the trouble of having to implement those changes yourself, you could simply tell me what you want, and I can make the necessary alterations."

"Wait, go back," I coughed, my mind suddenly latching onto something that Jeeves had just said. "You have a comprehensive understanding of my abilities?"

"Of course, Sir." The confused look on my face prompted Jeeves to continue. "As Marco explained, your subconscious has an innate understanding of your body and mind's capabilities and limitations, as soon as your power was activated, I became aware of the change and of how to access and use these powers. Your... bunker... was formed almost immediately as a way for your conscious mind to interact with them, but am I the 'sentient' -- for lack of a better word -- aspect of your mind, making me a much more efficient and intelligent way for those powers to be accessed and understood."

"Uhuh." I said after a pause, almost all of what Jeeves had said had flown right over my head. "So... In English... What does that mean for me?"

Jeeves sighed, as if disappointed -- but in no way surprised -- that I hadn't quite gotten the point of his speech. "Let me give you an example. I have found a group of abilities that I think will appeal to you and grouped them together under a title you may appreciate, something these tools aren't capable of." He nodded towards the main screen on the wall. Two words, in large white writing filled the upper half of the screen and I immediately understood the benefit of what Jeeves could provide.

Jedi Powers.

"You have got to be shitting me!" I laughed, clapping my hands together in appreciation. Below the two words was a short list of abilities that this group contained; telekinesis, mind influence (as opposed to outright mind control) martial arts and weapons training, precognitive reflexes, heightened metabolic movement -- the ability to do shit really fast, or jump really high etc, although that one was set to 'off' for the time being -- and advanced emotional control. "Ok, that's pretty cool." I grinned at Jeeves.

"Here's another one." Jeeves said, sounding happier that I was taking him more seriously. Another two words appeared on the screen; 'Red Alert' and Jeeves kept talking to explain. "With the threat posed by these Inquisitors, I thought it would be prudent to have some sort of defensive measures on hand in the event that you are attacked like Marco suggested. This group of abilities allows you to read the minds of anyone around you to detect threats to your safety, so if someone meant to do you harm, these defenses would automatically activate."

"Nice, so what defenses are we talking about?"

"Well for starters, enhanced combat skills..."

"I thought the Jedi and martial arts skills did that." I interrupted.

"No, these are more... extreme," Jeeves answered after considering the appropriate wording, "It will couple a highly advanced knowledge in the use of every and any weapon and martial art known to man, significantly increased physical strength and your telekinetic skills... Think superman, Jason Bourne and Yoda all rolled into one. It also includes the ballistic shielding power you spotted earlier; that will make you impervious to most kinds of bullets or other weapons... Many of these skills do overlap though, enhanced reflexes for example. These skills -- if you were ever attacked -- would make you one of the most dangerous people on Earth."

"Err... sweet." I finally said after a long pause. My mind's preoccupation with the Inquisitors and the assumption that I would need to defend myself seemed both premature and over compensatory, yet I couldn't argue with the mantra that it was better to be safe than sorry. "So, what about skills that I would consider more... I don't know... fun?"

"Well, to be honest, you have already activated a few of them. Being more attractive to women, making them come on to you rather than you having to make the first move, increased sexual aggression towards you and increased sexual stamina, selective fertility, the musical instruments were a nice touch, and so on... You did miss out instant success though."

"What's that?"

"It makes you successful at whatever you try, on the first and every attempt."

"At what?"

"At anything."

"So, if I wanted to win the lottery, or write a bestselling book, or leap a tall building in a single bound...?"

"You'd be successful, well... not the jumping buildings part, laws of physics would still apply, but otherwise... yes." Jeeves shrugged

"Wouldn't that make life a little... boring?"

"Probably." He replied, "but it would be useful if you were trying to pull off a particularly difficult task with little chance of success."

"Hmmm." I hadn't thought of that part, and it would come in handy for some of the more difficult parts of my college degree in the unlikely event that my increased knowledge and understanding failed me. There was a part of me that understood that my life -- at least in regards to the threats now posed to it -- had completely changed, but the bigger part of it was still refusing to acknowledge the negative side of my new powers. "Maybe that is one to keep on the back burner for now. Anything else."

"Yes, you have a visitor, sir."

"What?"

The door to my hospital room swung open, yanking me out of my bunker. "Alright dude, this isn't funny anymore. You've gotta stop breaking when I'm not around." Jimmy said with a slightly forced smile. "More problems and more tests, I hear."

Still a little disorientated from the sudden change of subject and scenery, I blinked a few times before realizing what my friend was talking about. "Err... well apparently I am not quite as broken as I should be."

Jimmy's face contorted into a look of confusion that would be funny under any other circumstances. "What?"

"Well, according to the Consultant, I shouldn't be able to move and should be in a ridiculous amount of pain..."

"And... that isn't the case?"

"Nope. I feel fine... and they don't like it."

"I'm confused." Jimmy finally said after staring at me in silence for a few moments.

"I can tell."

"Ha-fucking-ha," he frowned with a smirk. "So..." he shook his head, trying to rattle his thought into a coherent position, "you're not as bad as they thought? Isn't that a good thing?"

"They don't know... hence the more tests."

Jimmy and I just started at each other for a few seconds, "dude, can't you just... like... be a normal patient in hospital. You know, be ill when you're supposed to be, not die or confuse the doctors and hot nurses, that kind of thing?" he asked with a smirk.

"Funny, I was going to ask him the same thing." Phillipa's voice came from the door. Jimmy's face broke into a smile as he turned to the source of the voice, and his smile was met with a more demure one from her. "Pete, you have another visitor, A Mister Prof?" she scrunched her eyebrows at the piece of paper in her hand, "Mr. Prof and a Jacob... oh for fuck sake..." she muttered. "... god damned receptionists, I think it means there is a Professor Jacobs here to see you."

Jimmy and I both widened our eyes, with everything that had happened, I had completely forgot that the Professor was due to visit. We both sat ourselves upright, well, Jimmy did; straightening himself up in his chair while I tried to look more... horizontal. "Oh, and Pete?" Phillipa called from the door. "Please try to stop scaring the shit out of Becky, I don't think the poor girl can take much more." A wry grin playing across her face.

"I promise nothing." I smirked back

A few moments later, the Professor was led into the room. Professor Jacobs was brilliant; he had played a part in designing software for computers that was still being used a decade after its development and was considered one of the pioneers of modern gaming technology, yet judging by the looks of him, he was closer to my age that that of my parents, or even the other professors on the course. A stern and quiet man -- until provoked -- there was an energetic quality behind his eyes that hinted as his keen intellect. He was the sort of man that would never say five words when two would do, always quick to praise and quicker to scold, his no nonsense approach to teaching surprised me with its effectiveness. Despite being intimidated by the power this man had over my success in my degree -- and the fact that most students hated his lessons -- he was actually one of my favorite lecturers.

Apparently, the feeling was mutual; Professor Richard Jacobs had always prided himself on his ability to spot that one shining light in the sea of mediocrity that usually filled his lecture theatre. Computer game development seemed like 'fun' to most of the students that passed under his tutelage, like being good at playing video games somehow equated to even the most basic understanding of how they worked. On average, 40% of the students that started the first year of his course had dropped out by the end of first year exams, barely over half of those left would go on to graduate, his course was second only to the college's medical school in terms of student attrition.

So, two months ago, when his brightest and most promising student literally disappeared from the face of the earth, he was more than a little disappointed. It had taken a few weeks for news of my situation to find its way to his ears causing that disappointment to change to concern. The circumstances had also explained the less concerning -- but equally noticed -- absence of my group partner as well; although Jimmy would never set the game development world on fire, Jacobs had to admit a new found respect for the young man's character. He was doubtful that any of his own friends would have made such a sacrifice him if he were in the same position I was. All the same, Jimmy was a valued member of the class, always willing to put his hand up to answer a problem or keep a discussion rolling, it was people like him who kept the excitement in the classroom and made Jacobs' job much easier.

He strode into the room and took the chair that Jimmy hastily offered him. "Pete, Jimmy..." he nodded to the pair of us with a formal smile, the sort of formal smile that happens when you are trying not to make it look formal but ending up making look more formal than normal. He quickly gave up smiling. "Its good to see you both."

"Professor, it's good to see you." I replied as Jimmy rounded the bed to stand on the other side of m2=

)e, placing my bed between him and the professor. Although Jimmy didn't dislike Jacobs, he always had the feeling that the professor was one bad mark away from flunking him and it made him nervous.

"I... err... don't want to intrude, so I will make this as brief as I can." Jacobs started, looking around the room surrounding us. This was another man who didn't like hospitals. "The course board has met to discuss your circumstances and I am here to inform you of the outcome. So..." the professor pulled some paperwork out of the satchel that was hung over his shoulder, leafing through the pages as he talked, "...as you should already know, you were both granted a deferral on the semester due to unforeseeable extenuating circumstances, you understand what that means, right?"

"Err... actually, not really" I replied after a pause.

"That's ok... basically, what it means is that the credits for the work you have already completed are yours, but -- obviously -- you haven't acquired enough credits or completed enough of the course to move onto the third year. The 'extenuating circumstances' clause simply means that the deficit is explainable in a manner the university accepts; in your case, you would have completed the year, but couldn't, due to medical problems. The deferred semester status is a little more complicated; under normal circumstances, if you failed to meet the requirements to complete the year you would have been flunked, but due to the extenuating circumstances, you are being offered the chance to finish your studies at a later date without any consequences. There are three options available to students in your position; the first one is that you resit the second year -- or at least the parts of it you missed. The second is to progress onto the third year and make up the credits there, essentially squeezing a year and a half's worth or work into a single year.

"I took the liberty -- however -- of putting you down for the third option, Assessment by Board; this is a rarely used option as is reserved for student that the faculty are confident would have passed the year with good marks if it wasn't for event outside of their control. If all members agree, you are given a passing mark for the modules you missed, and progress onto the third year as if nothing happened. I am happy to tell you that you have passed that board and -- should you wish to continue your studies -- you are welcome to re-join us in September, or whenever you are fit enough to return."

My eyes widened at the news, I had assumed that my college career was basically over and I would have to start again, at least from the start of the second year; it was the same assumption that made me appreciate Jimmy's sacrifice as much as I did. This idea that I would be able to basically pick up where I left off hadn't even occurred to me. "I... Err... I don't know what to say." I said, turning to look at the smile on Jimmy's face. His forced smile -- like an actor applauding the winner of his Oscar nomination -- pulled my mind away from its own selfish ends. "I cant thank you enough, but... What about Jimmy?"

"I..." the professor scrunched up his eyes, looking back at the paperwork, "Sorry, what about Jimmy?" he asked in confusion.

"He is off for the same reason as I am, it doesn't seem fair that I am being offered a place and he isn't." I answered slowly, being careful not to throw this generous offer back in the professor's face.

"Pete, its ok, this is great." Jimmy said from the other side of my bed.

"No, I don't think you understand," the professor cut in, "this offer is for both of you."

"Wait." Jimmy looked up in astonishment, "What?"

The professor narrowed his eyes, flicking them between Jimmy and me, "I'm not sure what part of this you are confused about."

"I passed a board assessment? Me?" jimmy asked, his jaw still firmly on the floor. "I thought I was barely scraping a passing grade!"

"I don't know where you got that idea from." Jacobs shrugged, "You're not top of the class, but you're definitely in the top half."

"But... I didn't think you liked me!" I was starting to get a little dizzy, swinging my head between the two men on either side of my bed.

"Why would that matter?" The professor asked again. "Look, I don't know you well enough to decide if I like you personally or not, but either way, my personal opinion of you would have no bearing on the outcome of the board, its purely based on academics. Pete..." he turned to me, "...it isn't very often that a student has such a complete comprehension of the subject matter as you do, you are top of the class in every metric. Your grades alone would qualify you for passing the board." He turned to Jimmy, "your marks aren't as high as his, but being in the same group, I'm guessing you already know that. But if there is ever a class discussion, you are always involved; driving debate, solving problems and keeping the class thinking, you are actually my favourite type of student; one who is genuinely interested in the subject and is willing to learn... and you have been learning, there has been a steady improvement in you work since you started last year. Yes, you make mistakes, lots of them, but unlike some of your classmates, you learn from them, that learning curve will see you graduate with a very good mark.

"More than that, your character -- the sacrifice you were willing to make and the burden you took on in Pete's care -- is, frankly, inspiring. That kind of moral fortitude is something that my faculty would never allow to be used against a student, our college needs more young people like you, not less. You only have one issue, Jimmy, and that is a lack of confidence in your work. Solve that, and you will do fine."

Jimmy's expression of astonishment was -- in a word -- hilarious, but his mind was reeling. He had genuinely believed that he was barely making it through the course without making a fool of himself, being told by the head lecturer that he wasn't only safe from flunking, but actually doing well was a thought too surprising to process. His mouth just opened and closed a few times, like a fish out of water as his brain abjectly failed to connect with his mouth. I spoke for the both of us. "We would be happy to come back to school in September." I smiled, "assuming I am able by then." I added.

"Keep us informed of your progress." The professor said with a nod and a smile, standing from his chair and reaching out to shake our hands, mine first, followed by the still-mute Jimmy. "I wish you a speedy recovery."

"Thank you, professor." I nudged Jimmy with an elbow.

"Err... yeah. Thank you, professor, I won't let you down."

"See you both soon." And with another smile, the King was gone.

Jimmy remained silent for a few more minutes, quietly making his way back around the bed and slumping into his chair. "Did you hear that?" he asked eventually.

"Yeah, always said you were doing fine." I smiled.

"No, he said I was his favourite," his face cracked into a grin. "now I am the golden boy." He laughed.

"Shall we call him back and get him to clarify?"

"Nope, I know what I heard." His grin spreading. "I am far superior to you in all intellectual matters and my new best friend will see me through."

"Really?" I laughed. "and what about your old best friend?"

"Ah fuck him" Jimmy snorted playfully.

"I'll tell Phillipa you won't be around anymore then, shall I?"

Jimmy paused for a second. "Well played, sir... Well played." We both burst into laughter.

*****

Thank you for reading NewU Pt.04... (a)... yes, that's right... after writing out this chapter I realised that is was way too long for a single chapter and the later bits still need work, So the first half of Part 4 is being released now, and the second will be released as soon as it is ready... hopefully it wont take as long as this one did.

As always, comments and criticisms are always welcome, and I thank you all once again for taking the time to read my work. I am still looking for editors to help me polish these works up and would love to hear off anyone who would be interested in working with me.

I have found myself on the chatrooms recently so feel free to say hi if you'd like.

See you next time

TheNovalist