There wasn't anyone around to answer that. It was just her, perched on a roof, her hair still even as the wind blew in. Her feet dangled off the awning, swaying back and forth, taking in the morning stretched in front of her.
She still hadn't bothered to do much besides this, and honestly, felt a little guilty for not being inside, curled up next to him. The thing was, even if they'd made it back inside the night before, even if they both had really accepted that the both of them were shifting--
She still didn't quite know who she was at the moment.
Logically, the answer was: she was Madelyne Pryor in the same body as Molly Patton. Two people riding the same body, with almost the same powers, with different memories. Maybe not logical to people who didn't experience this, but logical in that this was their reality now.
Except after last night, it didn't feel that way. This was only her third or forth time doing this, and last night had been the first time that Madelyne had seemed to recognize and be willing to attach herself to the reality of having a body again, of being able to feel again. Before, she'd been dead, and if not dead, existing as a psionic construct brought only to life out of the longing of a son she didn't deserve or out of the anguish of someone else. No real agency, no where to go, nothing to do except exist in thought and memory, confined to the astral plane. Even then, when she'd gotten out, there was no body for her to tie herself too. She had to begrudgingly give it to Scott: he knew how to create a good plan. And that was saying little of the other pieces of her she knew existed, stretched across a multi-verse of reality. Pieces of her that she knew she could pull to her if she wanted.
What the problem was, was the fact that it seemed she and Molly had come to a sort of understanding with each other. And for a brief time, it seemed that they became something of a single entity. They'd finally agreed on things, on existence, on sharing a body, and it seemed it was sticking a little, even in the morning.
She looked down at her hand, turning it over and over as she mulled over last night. Some of her wasn't entirely surprised by what happened. The first shift had left her full of questions, and more than one article had referred to an out of body experience. They spoke of how to ground someone during an episode: physical sensation being the thing that worked the most. Sex hadn't necessarily been on that list; but then again, who was making manuals for the recently resurrected dead with psychic abilities? Much less one who was sharing a body with another woman. Maybe what they had experienced was the opposite: a temporary, singular convergence. An acceptance of their situation, and agreement to be one person however brief.
She focused her gaze on the beach below, at the way the waves pulled in calmly, no longer attached to Arthur or Adam from before. He hadn't experienced the same thing, she was at least certain. Adam had seem unsettled, freaked out, and Arthur almost too much to comprehend at times. They weren't anywhere near in sync, much less temporarily intertwined. She also hadn't given her name to him; even now it didn't feel safe telling anyone on the first go around, even in an intimate setting like that.
And really, that was without the question of it ever happening again. If Molly and Madeylne could even experience moving in agreement, thinking in agreement. How much of that was the Phoenix Spark in her soul, animating her here? How much of that was whatever this fucked up situation was attempting to force them into this? How much of this was genuinely an acceptance of the way things were now, and going forward? And what did this make her -- them now? She couldn't answer a damn thing.
And because of that, because she couldn't answer it. Because try as she might to untangle who she had been last night, and who she was now, as the sun rose further in the sky, she couldn't do anything about it. There were only questions, the sensation that her headache was gone, and that each shift, each week, each day, as Madelyne or Molly, she was changing. Whether that was looking for her son, or the advancement of her powers, of the memories she was picking up. There was just this now. Whatever this was. If she were lucky, it would pass like all the other shifts. This week couldn't get any crazier.
Resigned, she pushed herself off of the roof, uncaring of who saw her float down to the beach, her toes sinking into the sand. It was time to say goodbye, no matter who she was at the moment. Things would blow over and hopefully, when this shift was over, there wouldn't be any lasting damage.
Resolutely, she made her way back inside, passing through the door. It still felt odd to do this, moving without her real body. And in some way, ironic considering everything that had occured. No one in the house could tell she had ever left where she had been the night before, and all the better as she passed through the door. Her phone displayed the time: 7.30 AM. They had to wake up anyway.
She ran her hand over her own head, still pressed against his shoulder. Of course her hair didn't move, and her skin didn't register the touch. This was hers. This nameless thing, Madelyne, and Molly's.
With that, she reached into her power, and all it took was a shift in the air, and she was back in her body, stirring awake.