Give Me Shelter
The rec. room is pretty much deserted – which is what I need right now, I think. All I want to do is shoot some pool and see if that helps me take my mind off my personal problems. I'm not unhappy – I'm not – but I just feel a bit… sensitive right now. Hank would probably tell me to go out and meet people my own age (which would present problems in itself – technically "people my own age" means babies who still can't handle solid food… but I guess that's the problem with being artificially created and aged. Maybe I should find Nate Grey and discuss how he dealt with that problem…), but I like being by myself. It helps me to go over things more clearly in my mind. I really couldn't do that with the kind of mental chatter that bars and clubs usually produce. I'm still not comfortable in large places because my telepathy is a little too enthusiastic that way, and tends to make me hear thoughts I don't want to hear. Until I get more effective mental shields in place, I'd rather not risk endangering other people or myself.
Besides which, I need the practice. I want to be able to beat that smug, overconfident Cajun at his own game, and this seemed like a good way to go about achieving that. I rack the balls and strike the cue ball hard. It hits home strongly, scattering the brightly coloured solid and striped balls in all directions, and even sinking one in a corner pocket. That brings a smile to my face, finally. It was lucky, yes, but then again, if I practice hard enough, luck eventually won't have anything to do with it. I can't wait to see Remy's stupid bravado get dented when I beat him. He'll probably call it a fluke, but it'll still mean I beat him.
Five minutes pass while I'm here – the balls falling slowly, one by one. I dust the end of the cue with some chalk and snap off a quick shot, putting a purple-striped ball into one of the middle pockets with a rewarding rattling sound, and I let out a little exclamation of delight, grinning as the ball rolls down the little ramp at the side of the table, next to the other four or so balls I've already put away.
I can feel her approaching before the door opens. Her mind isn't like any other I've ever experienced. Perhaps it's because of the way she is connected to her surroundings. Perhaps it's because her upbringing was so different to everybody else in the mansion. Whatever – her presence is commanding and I feel almost compelled to turn and look at her as she comes through the double doors.
"Hi, Ororo," I say, trying to maintain a smile despite my mood.
"Hello, Rebecca." Ororo walks towards me and gives me a friendly hug – even though we've never really spoken much, she thinks of Mum as a friend, so to her, that pretty much makes me her friend too. Her blue eyes are really striking against her dark skin, and they hold me still for a few moments before I can speak again.
"What are you doing here?" She smiles her elegant, regal smile and gestures to the pool table with the long fingers of one hand.
"I like to play pool too, you know," she says. "Logan taught me to play a little while after I first arrived here at the mansion – he thought it would be good for me. I'd hoped to play a game by myself – I like to play without Logan or Remy cursing in my ear every five minutes." That makes me laugh.
"You're telling me. Those two could make a sailor blush." Ororo grins at me, tucks a lock of her white hair behind her ear and picks up a cue from the rack at the side of the room.
"Yes, I know. I keep telling Remy and Logan that we have women and children in the mansion, but they really don't seem to want to listen. Logan said 'A little rough language ain't gonna hurt 'em much, darlin'', and Remy just agreed with him. Those two are incorrigible." Her imitation of Logan's rough, cigar-stained voice is remarkably accurate, and raises a broad smile – I'd never thought of Ororo as being the kind of woman who would do such a thing. Apparently I was wrong (not that that's really a bad thing – I like being proved wrong once in a while. It helps to prove I'm not perfect, like I was grown to be). She shrugs, her white and black-striped Lycra top shifting across her shoulders slightly as she does so. "I suppose that's why I love them both so much – Logan has been like a brother to me, and Remy is my best friend. Do you know the story of how he and I first met?"
"I… think so," I say. I almost have an aneurysm dredging the details up from my implanted memories, the information slow to come to the front of my mind. "You were a child at the time, weren't you? How is that possible?"
Storm sighs. "It's… complicated," she says. "The Shadow King made me that way because he wanted me as his obedient slave again. I stayed that way for a long time. Remy took it upon himself to be my guardian angel when I was made a child again. He protected me and made sure I was safe until we returned to the mansion together. Remy followed me because he still felt he had to watch out for me – and I think also because he saw new opportunities. I should think he saw the mansion and what's in it as being a gift from the Goddess herself at first." She laughs, and shrugs slightly. "It was Rogue that made him stay, in the end, but he still cares for me a great deal. As I said, he's my best friend. I'd do anything for him." She smiles. "Even when I was a girl again, I would have done the same."
"And how did you get back to being this age again?" My curiosity has been piqued by what Storm is saying. Suddenly, it sounds to me like Mum and I are not the only ones with confusing issues about age.
"I was made a mutate by the Genoshan government," Ororo says, sadly, the memory clearly still painful for her. "The man changing me made some… alterations… to the programme and secretly gave me the ability to change back to being myself again, out of some hidden motive or other. I returned to being an adult then, but it took me a long time to grow my hair back." She laughs again, running a hand through her thick mane of pure white hair and flipping it behind her so that it falls neatly between her shoulder blades. "I suppose I could have gone back to the mohawk I had for a while, but that just wasn't me any more. I was going through an odd period in my life then – my mind wasn't really my own. Yukio would probably enjoy seeing me that way again, though." Her elegant lips curve upwards into a wistful smile. I frown, slightly puzzled by that.
"Yukio?"
Storm shrugs. "A… friend… I met in Japan just before Logan's wedding to Mariko Yashida. She and I spent a lot of time together while I was there. She helped me experiment with a lot of things – my hair, my body, the way I dressed, and so on. I always enjoy seeing her again. We… shared a lot, she and I. I miss her a great deal." She sighs. "But I expect you don't want to hear my woes all day, do you, Rebecca? Come – let's play some pool." She racks the balls and lines up her cue, before taking careful aim and putting the white ball into the centre of the triangle, scattering the coloured balls here and there. "Your shot," she says, standing back from the table.
"Stripes," I say, as I hit a red-striped ball into a side pocket with a satisfying finality. Ororo raises an elegant eyebrow and folds her arms, surveying the table for a moment, obviously sizing up which shot to make next while I take aim at the yellow ball close to the side pocket. The ball bounces off the leather side of the pocket and rebounds into a cluster of balls a little way down the table. Storm moves close to the table and lines up her shot.
"I've talked enough about myself, Rebecca," she says as she strikes the cue ball hard, bouncing the blue ball off a cushion and into a pocket on the opposite side of the table. "Let us talk about you for a while. How are you finding it here with us?"
Well, it had to happen sometime…
"It's been… different, 'Ro," I say, not realising until I've said it that I used the runt's nickname for Ororo. She looks up at me and smiles.
"It sounds to me like you're settling in better than you think," she says, winking.
"Maybe I am," I reply, "but I didn't see the rest of you taking to me like Mum and Dad did, or like Scott and Jean have, especially after you saw what I was." Ororo looks at me, her expression speaking volumes.
"Rebecca, I would think that you aren't the only person who has come to live under this roof that one or two of the team has had doubts about. Wolverine, for one, caused a lot of trouble when he first arrived here. I remember I protested to the Professor when he brought Sabretooth in for treatment, and most of us were unsure about having Magneto as the headmaster of the school when the Professor left us. Even Joseph made us unsure of where we stood with him. Trust me, Rebecca, we are no strangers to having people with questionable pasts here." She smiles. "Think of this as a fresh start. That was how I approached it when the Professor asked me to be in his new generation of X-Men, and I've never been more comfortable. Goddess knows I have been through a lot worse since I was a little girl." She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently, fixing my gaze with her own. "If you merely let the rest of us in, we can help you adjust to being here a little better."
"Thank you for the offer, Ororo," I say. "It's… appreciated. I haven't really talked with most of you properly – just Mum, Dad, Jean, Scott, Nathan and Hank; I didn't think I'd have much to say to the rest of the team."
"From what Scott tells me, we were wise to stay out of your mother and father's way when they were trying to get you to talk to them, after you first arrived here," Ororo says, a slight smile crossing her lips.
Thanks for reminding me,
I think, bitterly. Aloud, I say "Probably. I wasn't the best person to start a conversation with then, after all. I was so convinced Sinister was going to come and rescue me that I just wanted Mum and Dad to leave me alone until he did. And then he had my clone beat the shit out of me. Nothing like physical violence to shake your faith in someone, is there?" I sigh, and put my cue down by the side of the table. "I felt so stupid after that, I just tried to shut everybody out. Don't let them in, and they can't hurt you, right?""An understandable conclusion, under the circumstances," Ororo replies. "But I assure you, Rebecca, none of us here will hurt you – or if we do, it will be unintentional. We shall take care of you, I promise."
"I know that, 'Ro," I say, with a wry little smile. "But that still doesn't make it any easier to remember what I used to be, does it?" I sigh. "My brother would probably say 'What is, is,' and move on. I'm not so sure I can do that."
Storm smiles. "Nathan has a very unique way with words, does he not?" She chuckles. "Did you know I used to baby-sit him when he was a little boy? He loved Dr Seuss more than anything else I ever read to him. Mention 'The Cat In The Hat' or the Grinch to him, and I would think you will see a side of him you haven't seen before."
I roll my eyes. "Time travel. It really messes with your mind, doesn't it?" Storm laughs sympathetically.
"Yes, it does. Especially now that I find Nathan and myself getting closer and closer – I have to reconcile the images I have of the little boy on my knee and the man Nathan has become. He is older than I am now, do you realise that? And yet I can still remember him not being able to eat solid food and needing to be burped after every bottle of formula." She shakes her head. "Goddess, it is such an odd feeling to have seen him at such conflicting points in his life, and yet not to have aged a great deal myself. I wonder if I will ever come to terms with it." Suddenly, she smiles wickedly. "It does give me something to hold over his head, though. If he ever refuses to do something I want him to, I can pin his baby pictures to the refrigerator, and watch him go purple with embarrassment. I really don't think he'd enjoy seeing himself in that Barney the Dinosaur romper suit I bought him." Her expression changes to one of coy girlishness. "He does look wonderful when he's embarrassed. It makes him seem… more human, somehow."
"I know what you mean, 'Ro," I say, grinning at the sudden mental image I have of Nathan blushing. "When I first met him I thought he was going to be all tough talk and nothing else." I shake my head. "And then he started to talk to me – you know, really talk, like Mum and Dad do. He talked to me like we'd been brother and sister for more than just a couple of months. He said it was good to have me as a little sister. It really changed my opinion of him." I scratch my neck and push some persistent strands of hair out of my eyes. "Maybe I'll bring up that Dr Seuss thing the next time I talk to him. I think I'd like to see him embarrassed. It sounds like fun." Ororo rolls her eyes.
"You have your mother's sense of fun," she says, chuckling softly. "I would recognise that naughty streak a mile away." She touches me on the shoulder gently. "I can see why she is so proud of you."
I can feel heat at my cheeks, a red flush coming up from my neck to my face almost instantly. Great. There goes my "tough broad" façade…
Ororo smiles. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Rebecca. You should feel fortunate that you have parents to give you such appreciation – I would give everything that I have for a chance to hear what my mother and father think of the way my life has turned out. Cherish the time you have with your own parents, because you never know what may come between you." She sighs. "Listen to me. I feel like I'm preaching at you. Forgive me, Rebecca."
"No, it's all right," I say, softly, "you don't have to apologise. I know how lucky I am to have Mum and Dad – and Scott, Jean, and Nathan too – and I also know that they're all I'm ever going to have in the way of family. I don't have much of a choice but to keep them as close as I can." I grin weakly. "Besides, with the way Scott's family works, I'm going to need all the help I can get the next time my evil twin from an alternate reality shows up."
Ororo laughs musically. "Goddess, yes! I had forgotten how convoluted Scott's family tree could be sometimes. I shall have to get you and Bishop talking – the two of you would have a field day discussing parallel realities. You know Bishop is not from this timeline, don't you?"
I nod. "Yes. Not from quite as far in the future as my brother, is he?" Storm shakes her head.
"No. He is from only about eighty years in the future, after what he calls the 'Summers Rebellion' and the overthrow of the Sentinels' rule." She smiles, and shrugs sheepishly. "Listen to me – I say 'only about eighty years in the future' like it was an everyday occurrence. I must be more jaded than I had thought. Looking on the positive side, though, at least there is less future history to separate us than there is with Cable."
"Or confuse us," I add sardonically.
"Yes, or confuse us." Storm's grin widens. "You see? You're becoming accustomed to the way things are under this roof already."
"Perhaps," I say, folding my arms, "but I still have a lot to learn. Hank made that abundantly clear the other day." I take a deep breath. This is a mistake…stop now and you might keep some of that dignity you're so fond of… "Can I tell you something, Ororo?"
Ororo cocks a slender eyebrow quizzically. "Of course, child. Why wouldn't you be able to?"
"Well… this is… difficult for me." I feel the hackles on the back of my neck rising, as if to tell me that what I'm about to say is going to make me regret opening my mouth, but I try my best to ignore them. I take a deep breath and start again. "What did you feel like, the first time you… had feelings… for another person?" Ororo raises her eyebrows.
"Are you… thinking of getting involved with anybody?" she asks, a concerned tone running through her voice. "I'm not sure I'm the one you should be talking to, if you are. Perhaps your mother or father –" I shake my head.
"Please, Ororo?" I say, firmly. "I don't think I want to talk to Mum or Dad about what I have to say right now. Will you answer the question?"
"All right," she sighs. "I felt… invigorated. As if my whole body were floating on air."
"What was his name?" I ask her. She smiles.
"His name was T'Challa. He was the son of the Wakandan king, T'Chaka, and I was just a little girl, probably no older than you are now. We met for only a little while –little more than one night – but he touched my soul in a way I have never felt before. We shared a passion for life that was exquisite and sad all at once." She smiles, and wipes a tear from her eye. "He has probably forgotten all about me – he has his Dora Milaje to keep him company, after all."
"Dora Milaje?" The words are unfamiliar. Evidently this T'Challa is not a mutant – otherwise my brain would be full of information about him. Sinister is quite generous with facts and figures if someone has the X-factor gene. If they don't, then he doesn't give a damn – and, by extension, neither should any of his flunkies.
"His female bodyguards, and consorts. They are his wives in training. They are the most beautiful girls the royal house can find. I am just one woman – why would he remember one night with me when we were just children?" She laughs sadly. "And then there was Forge. He and I… had something together – a real, honest love, despite the loss of my powers at the hands of a weapon he created. He even proposed to me once. I turned him down, and so he turned to Mystique." She dabs delicately at her eyes with her handkerchief. "You see, child, perhaps I am not the best person to talk to about matters of the heart after all." I lay my hand on her arm.
"I'm sorry."
She shakes her head reassuringly. "You don't need to apologise for my mistakes, Rebecca. Hopefully, with Nathan I can avoid some of them before I end up alone again. We shall see, I suppose. Now, enough about me – who is the lucky man you have fallen for?" She does her best to raise a smile, and I suddenly feel a lot less brave about actually confessing this to someone who isn't either family or Hank himself.
Steeling my nerves, I take a deep breath and say "Hank."
Ororo's eyes widen. "Goddess. That certainly wasn't what I was expecting to hear." She folds her arms. "Have you talked to Henry about this?"
"Yes – a few days ago," I say. "He told me that he couldn't do anything except apologise to me. I can understand that – he and Trish are still an item, right? What else did I expect? Him to just say 'I love you too, Rebecca, let's run off to Tahiti together?'" I rub the inner corners of my eyes with my fingertips. "God, I knew this would be a bad idea. I'm sorry, Ororo. I shouldn't have said anything." Ororo shakes her head.
"No, child, you did the right thing. I'm sure your mother would say the same. Keeping things in here –" and she taps her breastbone "– isn't good for you. Take it from someone who knows." She sighs, and scratches at the nape of her neck. "Rebecca, I do not want to see someone else walk the same path as I have – I wouldn't want you to experience that kind of solitude."
"Me neither," I say, shortly. "Hank and I… we talked this through. I know what the situation is between us – I don't have to like it, but I know what it is. He told me I should try finding somebody else."
"He's absolutely right," Storm says, folding her arms. "I know this must hurt now – believe me, I have been where you are far too often, so I know what I'm talking about. As I said, I don't want you to suffer as I have. You have had enough pain already." Her face lights up suddenly as an idea comes to the front of her mind. "How would you like to come down to Harry's with the rest of us this Friday? It would do you good, I think."
"Now you sound like Mum," I say, wryly, as I nod slightly. "I think I'd like that, though. It might take my mind off my problems for a while." I nod again, a little more firmly. "Yes. I'd like to come." Storm claps her hands excitedly.
"Good!" she exclaims, her blue eyes dancing with pleasure. "I hope it will help you, Rebecca – there is nothing worse than tearing yourself to pieces inside over a lover, or someone who has spurned you, however kindly." She chuckles sadly, and draws one side of her mouth up into a sad little smile. "Perhaps we can at least drown our sorrows together?"
That makes me laugh. "I like the sound of that. We'll see who can outdo whom, shall we?"
Ororo raises an ivory eyebrow, her smile turned to one of mischievous anticipation. "Yes, Rebecca – I suppose we will."
A/N:
Rebecca Braddock is my own creation, but everybody else is owned by Marvel. At the moment. Rebecca Braddock can be first found in my fic "A Simple Case Of Scientific Curiosity", which covers her creation, and her story continues through the next few fics ("Magic", "Growing Pains", and "Dear Diary"). So if you feel inclined to learn more about her, those are the places to look! :)