The Law of Averages

From the very first moment that Dan had discovered his veil, he had been enamored with it. It was the most obvious expression of his power, the most visible, the easiest to manipulate. It was where he had focused all of his efforts in learning and growth. It was his power, as far as Dan was concerned, or at least the primary function of it. Everything else was secondary.

So, it was somewhat predictable that he was utterly blindsided by Matilda's 'revelation'. It was something that he knew, but had never thought to consider. He'd known it from the very beginning, from that first trip to Earth. Of course his power took initiative; it took it from him. The how, the why of it, these things had never entered his mind.

"What are you implying?" Dan ground out in the face of Matilda's manic enthusiasm. The woman looked like Christmas had come early. Excitement was plain on her face, as honest an expression as he'd ever seen.

His question widened her smile. "I imply nothing. It was merely an observation of fact." Crow's feet deepened as her eyes curled with glee. "Implications come later, once we've established a cause."

Dan frowned, shaking his head in annoyance.

"Explain," he demanded tersely. "Be concise. Use small words."

The older woman leapt at the chance. "We can establish two things from this test." She held out her index finger. "The first: Your teleportation actively avoids obstacles."

The sentence was slightly inaccurate, though Dan did not correct her. It was missing the phrase "when he desired it to." Which... eased his mind, actually. It confirmed what he already knew, that his power obeyed him. Whatever other strangeness it carried, it obeyed him. Nonetheless, he listened as she continued her explanation.

"By what mechanism it does this, I cannot say," Matilda admitted, without a hint of hesitation. "It is clearly not your eyes, as we've just ruled that out." She smirked at him. "Indeed, I doubt it uses any of your natural senses, seeing as your official range is measured in miles."

Dan could agree with that assessment. It was technically possible that he had some sort of hidden sense, but it had to be one that only his power perceived. He certainly could not imagine any of the traditional six senses being capable of reaching across the vastness of space. Not without the information upload violently disorienting him at all times.

No. More likely it had something to do with t-space. His power navigated the sightless abyss as easily as Dan did his own apartment. If there was an answer, it would only be found there.

Though he was quite curious as to what else Matilda would come up with, lacking such pertinant knowledge.

"Regardless, knowledge of the exact mechanism is unnecessary," Matilda continued easily. "It is enough to know that this trait exists, at least for our purposes." She raised a second finger. "The second point of note: unlike a standard short-hop, you are capable of teleporting with inexact coordinates."

"It sounds a lot less worrying when you phrase it like that," Dan pointed out, still keeping his distance from the older woman.

She snorted. "It shouldn't. It changes nothing. You do not have complete control over your own ability." Her eyes bore into him. "Can you say that it will always function how you wish? That it moves according to your will? Truly?"

"Yes," Dan replied without hesitation. There was no doubt in his mind, despite this new development. It raised questions, many questions, and the implications made him uneasy, but Dan was no fool. His power hadn't changed, only his perception of it. It was his power, and it had never led him astray.

His conviction seemed to take Matilda aback. With furrowed brow, she asked, "How can you be so certain?"

Dan considered the question, considered himself, then shrugged. "Instinct, I guess. I just know."

This did not make the woman any less frustrated. "You can't possibly know!"

"Of course I—" Dan paused, taking in the sight before him. Matilda's fists were clenched at her side, her teeth were gritted, all excitement had fled her form in favor of a more volatile emotion.

It wasn't the first time he'd inadvertently pissed someone off, but it was the first he'd done it while actively attempting to avoid such a response. Did she think he was lying? It was a possibility, though he couldn't imagine what had given her that impression. Dan was doing his best to avoid being actively hostile, and relatively honest. So... why?

Why was she so angry?

"Your arrogance is astounding," Matilda said, unknowingly answering Dan's question. In her frustration, she abandoned all pretense. "Few Naturals ever learned to control their powers perfectly, and I imagine fewer still would have made such a bold, unsubstantiated claim." Her knuckles whitened and her hands clenched, then slowly loosened. Her face relaxed, falling into a sort of detached superiority. The visage of a teacher, a learned mentor. "But I suppose it's to be expected. You couldn't know better. You've never had a teacher. Your power is tame on its surface, so you haven't yet experienced the danger that carelessness brings."

He had a teacher, a good one, if a little insane. More than one, really. Abby had taught him more than she'd expected, despite her own insecurities. He wanted to spit that fact in Matilda's face, laugh at her assumption; ten minutes of experimentation, a few questions, and she thought she understood his power better than he. Maybe if he was one of the locals, indoctrinated to fear his own—

At which point, Dan remembered that he was supposed to be playing the role of a local. A meek Natural, oppressed by his own culture, afraid of his own power. That was what Matilda had expected from him, going into this. She must have hoped for her revelation to terrify him. To make him doubt himself. To make him unsure.

Was it a trick, then? A lie, to make him more pliable? Or a truth, twisted to her own purposes? She was a devious one; he knew that now more than ever. Whatever trust they might have built between them had been lost with this revelation, even if only Dan knew it to be so.

Matilda wanted him afraid. Of himself, of his power. He would fear, and she would wait in the wings with guidance. The veteran, the teacher, who had taught all of this before. A sympathetic ear and a wise mind. What Natural would not have fallen for her words? The world told them to fear themselves. It should have worked.

But Dan was not from around here.

So when his confidence had remained unshaken, she called him a fool. Arrogant, and inexperienced. She had shifted tactics faster than a mongoose catching its dinner, but the message remained the same. Trust her, rely on her. He'd be a fool not to. Where else could he find a teacher? One willing, one capable?

He wanted to call her bluff. It would be easy; to ask her for names, for examples of those she'd 'helped' in the past. Demand proof that she'd guided another, and was not just a shameless liar. It was tempting, but pointless. She wouldn't have gone for this charade if she didn't have some way of supporting her claims. Maybe they were even true (though he doubted it). Maybe she had, at some distant point in the past, interacted with another Natural.

Whatever the truth, Dan was certain that she wanted his presence. She wanted access to his power, though he couldn't guess at her purpose. That would have to come later.

This was a relief, really. He knew now where they stood in regards to each other. No more uncertainty.

Enemies.

Practically speaking, it changed little. Dan had gone into this mess, determined not to share anything that could be used against him. A different perspective on his power was useful, and was already paying dividends. The woman had pointed out something that Dan had failed to realize, that Marcus had failed to realize, with just a few short experiments. He would use her, just as she used him, but he'd never trust her.

Dan put on a contrite expression, honed through years as a white collar worker. He was perfectly used to apologizing for things that weren't his fault, even if that skill was less useful these days. Eyes dipping downward, he nodded to Matilda. "You might be right. I apologize."

She blinked at his abrupt change in attitude. "Oh? You see sense in my words, then?" The question was laced with suspicion.

Dan didn't blame her. He'd been too skeptical from the very beginning, so caught up in his personal dislike. He had to sell the version of himself that she now saw: an arrogant young man, blinded by his small successes, but with just enough insecurity to need her tutelage.

He shrugged, barely addressing her question. "I said might. Tell me more about your theory, and maybe that'll change."

She smirked, fire returning to her eyes, and Dan knew that he had her.

"As I'm sure you know, details on Naturals are sparse at best," she began with an appropriately forlorn shake of her head. She sold it well, a sort of scoffing disrespect towards the established culture. "From what I've gathered, and from my own experiences, natural powers tend to activate in the same manner as upgrades. That is, through the will of the bearer."

"Tend to?" Dan clarified quickly.

Matilda nodded. "In every case that I am aware of."

Which might not be many. Dan took her words with a grain of salt.

"So what does that mean for me?" he asked, curiously. For all her bluster, she hadn't actually offered a reason for his power's... aberrance.

"I have no idea," Matilda admitted, with far more honesty than Dan had expected. "All I know for certain, is that your power can act independently of your control. That is, quite frankly, groundbreaking. Also horrifying."

Dan snorted. "I suppose this is where you tell me the implications."

The look she bestowed upon him was chilling. "They should be obvious, Daniel Newman. You cannot rely on your own effectiveness. The past is not a guarantee of the future."

In other words, just because his power had always worked before, didn't mean that it would continue to do so. It was fucking preposterous, and against everything that Dan had learned about natural powers. His own doubt would poison his power; his own expectations would weaken it.

Her warnings would have been amusing, if they weren't so infuriating. It was a transparent attempt to reassert her authority, her control over him. She needed a lever, and playing on his uncertainty was her only option. The irony was that, in weakening his faith in his power, Matilda would have weakened its growth. A self-defeating act, and one that made Dan certain she had never worked with a Natural before.

He had a role to play, however, and so he asked, "What do you suggest?"

"Focus," she answered immediately. "Precision. Don't fall into old habits, don't be lazy. It's likely that there is some subconscious cause at the root of this. You mustn't allow any slip of concentration. Clear your mind, take no risks."

Subconscious? He held back his frown. Of course that's what she would think. It made sense, after all. What else could it be? There was nothing else it could be.

Was there?

The creeping feeling of uncertainty returned. That gnawing unease. He remembered an abyss filled with eyes and teeth and moaning mouths. He remembered eldritch creatures, writhing in the dark. He remembered them waiting, watching, as he meditated in t-space.

He remembered, and he wondered.