Turns out that, no, he's not going back home any time soon. Marley decides that it's probably because of how much his father detests him right now, there's no way he wants Marley in Nocona Palace.

You'd think that the man would be thankful that Marley's not, you know, dead right now. He did get shot in the head and throat, killing shots according to the doctor. One would think that Allorn would have at least given the teenager a hug.

Maybe Marley should have expected it. Maybe, as soon as the doctor began hinting at the fact that he had superhuman abilities, he should have seen it coming.

It still hurts, though.

As soon as Marley is disgnosed clinically abnormal the day after the incident, his mom is crying and his dad is looking at him like he's the scum of the earth. Marley, himself, is close to throwing up and half wishing that the shots had succeeded in ending his existence.

Someone had gone back to the palace to pack his bags–he's pretty sure it was his mom, since whoever had done it also packed his keychain as well. No one else would have done that–and brought them back to the hospital. It really sets in the fact that he's going to be leaving. For a while.

He doesn't want to leave his home. He doesn't want to leave his family. He doesn't want to leave his mom–or even his dad, despite the fact that the man probably regrets raising him right now.

It's half because he will be homesick. It's partially because he knows right now nobody at 1-A will like him. Plus, he has about as much experience associating with people his own age that he has with dinosaurs.

It's mostly because if he's shaking at just the simple thought of being thrown into a building with a bunch of people that don't like his family and will likely put him through immense pain, his keychain won't help him when he gets there.

On the ride to the airport, he's in a separate car than his parents. He wants to think it's because if he's in one separate then there's more room for his bags. But he only has two bags and even then, something tells him that's not it.

When the driver pulls up to the building that one of their private planes reside, Marley steps out the car on shaky legs. The driver gets his bags for him. Nice to know some things haven't changed since his newest... revelation.

Right then it clicks that Marley got shot on international television. He stood back up, alive and fully functioning, with billions of people watching. Everybody, the entire world, knows that he's inhuman. That he can't be trusted. That he has this ability. That he cant die. He has embarassed his father in front of the entire world.

By being shot.

How fucked up is that?

Now with the added stresses of everybody knowing that he can't die and the fact that simple strangers on the street will know his whole deal going on, he's more nervous than he's ever been.

When he looks up he finds Charlene rushing towards him, eyes still watery. She doesn't have her purse or anything with her, which means she won't be seeing him off for long. Figures, it's not like the queen of the Westhem has a lot of free time.

Not to mention Marley isn't too much of a priority anymore. That's likely the reason his father isn't out here as well.

"Okay, make sure to call me if there are any problems. Anyone treats you badly, we..." she glances at the car his father is currently in, "I'll take care of it. Do everything they ask you to do, lay low, don't cause any problems, and you'll be out of there in no time. Back home with your mom."

She's explaining all this as they begin walking to the jet. Marley's trying to memorize everything she's telling him, which he succeeds at mostly because about half of it is common sense and the other half is stuff he'd do anyway.

The driver hands his bags to some guy standing at the entrance of the plane, a door on the side with a ramp leading up to it. That also seems to be where his mom is currently leading him. It's strange, because usually any time he's going on a plane it's with his parents. Typically they're going to some political event.

Not a prison for the abnormal.

Okay, okay, so it's not a prison. That would be against the law, to send someone to a prison like environment when they hadn't done anything illegal. Usually.

Now that he thinks about it, maybe some of them have broken the law. What if you can shoot lasers out of your eyes and accidentally kill someone? Boom. Murder.

Good god, he's now becoming aware of the fact that he really doesn't know what it's going to be like there. It very well could be like a prison. It could be like a hospital. It could be like a school. He doesn't know.

He feels some suckage in his cheek and realizes his mom is kissing him. He's also standing right in front of the ramp.

Wow, this is actually it. Holy cow. He's really about to leave everything he knows for an unknown amount of time–it all happened so suddenly, it's throwing him for a loop. He's only ever been completely away from his parents for a few days at most. This? This is insane. He half thinks he's dreaming.

"Call me when you land and text me when you get there. Make sure to keep me updated..." she's going through a mental checklist. She tends to do that, having always been a pretty organized person. "And, no matter what happens or what has happened, I love you."

She finishes off with a sad smile.

Marley doesn't know how to respond to most of that, nerves eating him up inside, so he just gives her a falsified smile of his own and a half hearted, "I love you too."

The lady gives him a hug and turns away. He takes that as his cue to board the plane. The guy by the entrance won't make eye contact with him and he decides not to take it personally.

The plane is completely empty and he takes a seat right in the middle, forgetting to put on his seatbelt. It's not too long afterward that the plane is lifting off, taking into the sky and leaving behind everything he knows.

He can't stay still the entire flight. Hell, he can't stay still on a regular basis. Add his unaided apprehensiveness and the fact that there is nothing to do–not to mention how small this plane is–and he can hardly stay in his seat.

In fact, he doesn't. Over the course of the two hour long trip he ends up laying starfish style in the floor, flopped across two seats, on his back with his feet in the air, rested on the side of the plane. Hell, he's pretty sure he ends up crawling around under the seats at some point.

When they land, he calls his mom. She answers almost immediately. She tells him that she needs to be somewhere–a meeting or a press conference or something, he doesn't know–and tells him that a car should be waiting for him in the parking lot of the building he landed by.

It's then that he realizes that he hasn't seen any press or paparazzi anywhere. Hell, not even any cameras. This must be serious if not even the media are able to get to him.

He's greeted by a swift nod from the man who's going to be his driver. The pilot puts his bags in the trunk of the car and the driver holds the door open for him to get in. He just sits back there. Then, getting an idea;

"Hey, can I watch the press conference my parents are at?"

The driver responds with an affirmative, and a screen is popping out from the seat in front of him. The driver hands him a small remote and Marley thanks him, then starts going through channels until he finally finds the one with his father standing in front of a bunch of people. His mom is off in the background, watching him.

Marley catches him right at the tail end of a sentence;

"-being sent to 1-A, Institution for Abnormal Persons."

Allorn then calls on a reporter, so the camera pans out so you can see all of them. It doesn't zoom in on the one asking the question, though. Just the king and a few reporters in the front row.

"Are you concerned for the future for the Westhem, the heir to the throne being abnormal?"

Allorn's blank yet polite facial expression doesn't change. "I believe that rehabilitating him through 1-A will give him the proper experience he needs and will provide us with the information we, as a hemisphere, need, to ensure he is fit for rule."

Okay, that makes him feel better. Part of him wonders if Allorn means it.

A ton more hands fly up. He picks a woman in the middle.

"Many people are wondering how Prince Marley could have stood right back up after receiving two killing shots. What do you assume is the magnitude of his condition?"

The king still seems like he is invincible. Ready for every question thrown his way. Marley, however, can see how stumped he is.

"That is classified information. Queen Charlene, Prince Marley, and I would prefer for that information to remain private. Thank you."

More hands. More questions about Marley and his little death problem. More of a reason for Marley to want to run away and cease to exist.

Then, one that has Marley shutting the TV off;

"You, Your Highness, seem quite sure that Marley will be able to overcome this new ability–or, well, disability–and match your level in abilities to rule a kingdom. How exactly do you believe the public will react when someone who is a part of a group practically sub-human will take the throne?"

This does nothing to help Marley's mental state, so he decides he's done.

He knows he has complained a lot. He knows he has had it above great his entire life–everything practically handed to him constantly. However, with the unmedicated anxiety he has had to deal with for 17 years and severe lack of experience with change in general, he thinks he's going to be sick.

Thank god he got his keychain out of the luggage and clipped it to his pants, because without that he'd be hyperventilating.

Maybe he can convince the people at 1-A to help him? Perhaps tell them he's already on medication and seeking therapy for it? Then again, they may try to confirm with his father, and he remembers the last time he tried talking with Allorn about this.

"So? What? You think you need to be put on medication for feeling nervous?"

The way he'd said that was like a punch to the gut. Like every teacher Allorn had ever hired failed miserably.

"No, I mean... yes. I just feel like I feel it, you know, more than usual."

"More than usual?" He'd said it like he just ate his least favorite food. Like he just ate oysters.

"Yeah- yes." Marley quickly corrects because the word 'yeah' is disrespectful. "It's just, it's getting to be really bad and I always feel..."

Allorn raises his eyebrows. Marley doesn't know how to finish that.

"Marley, you know how I feel about medication," his voice has not gotten any softer, "it's all a scam that does more harm than good. All those mental disorders they've made up... don't fall into that. I thought you were better."

That shut Marley up real quick. He'd nodded his agreement, even believed his father for a while. However, when he stopped breathing and nearly passed out and started crying right before he had to give a giant speech in front of a lot of really important people, he decided there was no way his father was correct about it.

As they pull onto a separate road, gated, Marley reaches down to his keychain and starts messing with a circular object that twists in four directions. They pull into a massive parking lot, with a giant grey building in front of them, and Marley takes a deep, shaky breath.

Okay, here we go.