Chapter 1
Charles smiled slightly as the young woman stirred on the medical table, her eyelids fluttering open slowly to reveal two brilliant magenta orbs. The look of peace and tranquility that had graced her face while she was unconcious quickly vanished, replaced by fear and confusion.
The heart rate monitors blared loudly as she quickly swung herself off the bed, retreating into the farthest corner that she could find. Her eyes scanned the room frantically as she snatched a scalpul from the counter, crouching down as low as she possibly could.
Charles smiled comfortingly at her. You don't have to be afraid my dear. He tried to reassure her, his telepathy allowing his voice to echo in her mind; but this only fueled the dangerous fire, filling her eyes with a raw fear and terror that made him wheel backwards a little.
Logan smirked, stepping over to Charles. "Better let me do the talkin', Chuck." he said arrogantly, slowly stepping over to her. "Easy darlin'." he whispered in a low, rumbling voice, crouching down to offer her his hand. His movements were slow and careful, as if he were working with a skittish horse.
She eyed him unsurely, hesitantly inching closer but not releasing her grip on her weapon. "Who...are...you..." she asked with some difficulty, as if the words were hiding in the back of her mind and she had to force them to line up correctly.
"Logan. We're here t' help darlin'." he reassured her, inching closer.
Words flashed through her mind. His words. "Professor! I need you to get the Jet down here pronto. There's a girl, she's banged up pretty bad." She couldn't see him, but she could smell the calming scent of pine and tobacco, mixed with the scent of fresh snow. He was close. No, he was holding her. But she couldn't move. She couldn't speak. It was cold. Too cold to even think. And it was getting darker...
"You...you...found me?" she asked slowly, moving a little closer as she lowered the small, metallic surgical knife. When Logan nodded, she loosened her grip on the tiny weapon, taking his hand with a soft smile. "Thank you." she said quietly, allowing him to help her up.
"Can you remember your name?" Charles asked her as Logan led her back over to the bed to sit.
She was silent for a moment. "My...my instructor...he called me...Mirage." she said atlast, straining to recover the memory from the fog of blackness that filled her mind.
"Instructor fer what?" Logan asked curiously, but Mirage only shook her head. Try as she might, the rest of the memory eluded her, leaving only that little fragment.
"Mirage. That answers another question." Xavier said, and smiled as she gave him a puzzled look. "My dear, with a name such as that, it is most certain that you are a mutant." he said with a smile. "But we will not focus on that now. For now, we will let you get settled in. Logan, would you care to escort our lovely guest to her room?"
"Sure thing, Chuck." Logan said casually as he led her out of the room, ushering her past the gaping students and whistling boys that lined the corridors. "So how old are ya kid?" Logan asked, trying to make conversation.
Mirage shrugged, her violet hair cascading from behind her ear and into her face. "How old do I look?" she asked, not really certain her self.
Logan eyed her for a moment as they stepped into the cylindrical elevator. "I dunno, twenty? Maybe twenty-one?" he guessed, ushering her down the hallway as the elevator door slid open. "Well darlin', here it is." he said as he pushed the door open wide. "There's clothes in the closet for ya, a map of the mansion on the dresser, books on the shelf, towels an' stuff in the bathroom..."
"Thank you Logan, but...I think I'd like to try and find things on my own. " she said with a faint, half-hearted smile.
Logan shrugged. "Suit yerself. I'll be down the hall if ya need me." he said before vanishing from the room.
Mirage looked around. It was lovely...but it didn't take away the throbbing ache that filled her chest. Something was missing...and she couldn't even remember what it was. Why? Why can't I remember... she thought with a deep-set frown. With a weary sigh, she slumped onto the bed, burying herself beneath the blankets and closing her eyes. The next few weeks weren't going to be easy, and she needed to be at her best.
