I wrote this all today and stayed up to finish it! I'm so tired and delusional right now that after I finish posting this, I'm going straight to bed, haha. But anyway, here's the one-shot that you all waited a day for, lol! And I have decided that I will write a sequel, only I have NO ideas whatsoever. Feel free to inbox me if you have something you'd like for me to suggest! In other news, X-MEN: FIRST CLASS ON DVD WOOT! I get my copy next week in the mail! Now, without further ado, enjoy! (P.S. There's not any Gillian/Alex action or whatever in this chapter, so I didn't put him down as a character.)
Several weeks have passed since Chicago and the sour, biting mood in the Xavier residence is gone. It was realized that constant bickering and stinging attitudes weren't helping anyone to cope with what happened in Cuba. Gillian emerged from that emotional shell that trapped her for so many months, and beamed with her usual, quipster self. It was like normal, minus Raven and Erik. Sometimes it was still hard to deal, she would cry over Raven yet seethe over the thought of Erik in Shaw's helmet.
It's eight o'clock in the morning on a weekend, maybe Sunday, when the doorbell chimes throughout the manor. Charles infiltrates on everyone's mind, asking someone to get the door since he is immobile at the moment. Bone-weary, Gillian answers back and offers to get the door, to which Charles expresses great appreciation and then removes himself from her mind.
Gillian groans quietly and throws the duvet off of her frame. She has a hard time climbing out of Alex's bed, but eventually, gets her feet onto the damask carpet and stands up. She picks up her brasserie from the floor and fastens it onto her, slipping on her underwear that she finds on the floor beside the bed. Gillian picks up Alex's blue tee shirt and pulls it over herself, it's too big to fit like a dress, the hem reaching the middle of her thigh.
She looks at Alex sleeping, bundled up in fitted sheets and the duvet. His hair is a mess from rolling around in bed all night long. Gillian smiles at him and opens the door to leave, shutting it quietly behind herself. She tiptoes down the staircase and runs a hand through her straightened hair, combing her fringe up and to the side so that it's not in her eyes.
The doorbell knells again and she rushes to the door.
"Coming, coming!" Gillian says in a half-whisper. She unlocks several latches along the door's frame and turns the knob, pulling the door back. "Listen, it's eight in the morn—" Gillian is almost so shocked that she loses consciousness.
"...surprised to see me?"
Gillian's lips quiver and her feet threaten to step forward, disbelief is an understatement. "M—mom?"
The woman nods, her grayish blonde waves bouncing over her shoulders. "It's me," she says sadly, but maintains a smile.
"What are you doing here?" Gillian asks, her hand is still on the door, but she uses the frame to balance herself.
"We need to talk," her mother answers, pulling her coat closer to her body.
Gillian shakes her head and scratches the nape of her neck with the hand previously fixed around the door. She has so many questions that need answers and there are so many emotions running through her right now that she can't even think properly. "How did you even find me?"
"I'll tell you that later, but we really need to talk."
She sighs, "Mom..."
"Gill—"
"I don't want to talk. About anything."
Her mother is in skepticism. "I can't believe you're being so crabby with me." She points a finger at herself. "I should be the bitter one," she says, poking Gillian in the chest. "You left, remember, Gillian?"
Gillian crosses her arms and leans against the frame of the door, pushing back the bothersome fringe from her eyes. "Of course I remember."
There is a spell of reticence shared between the town, Gillian shifts her position against the frame. Her mother shivers slightly and rubs her arms. "So, aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Gillian?" Charles calls, rolling out of the elevator and to the door. He jumps slightly at the sight of Gillian, practically bare skinned if not for the large tee shirt draped over her trembling frame. "Would it have troubled you to pull on a pair of pants, dear?" he asks, wanting to be comical, but is too discomforted by the situation.
Her mother chuckles from the door. "I always told her the same thing."
Charles, confused, looks from Gillian to her mother, then back to Gillian. "So, you're familiar with our visitor, Gillian?"
She grunts and her ever-averting eyes never meet anyone. "Yeah," Gillian sighs. She puts an upturned palm out to her mother. "This is, my, uh, mother."
"Oh," Charles breathes. "Well, don't just allow her to stand out in the freezing cold. Come in, come in." He motions for her to come inside, and she gladly accepts the invitation, sliding past Gillian at the door. "Have a seat, please."
Her mother sits down on the ottoman and crosses one leg over the other. Charles wheels himself next to the recliner directly across from her, slightly leaning back in his wheelchair. Gillian moves to the recliner beside him and sighs as she flops into the seat.
"I apologize for not introducing myself," he says. "I'm Charles." He sticks out a hand.
Gillian's mother takes it and shakes. "Lena. Nice to meet you, Charles."
"Likewise," he responds, smiling.
"So..." Lena drags, folding her hands into her lap. "Are you two—" she moves her hands around each other, trying to form her words. "Seeing each other?"
"Oh! No! No! No!" Charles says after a moment of exchanging a confused glance with Gillian.
Gillian shakes her head. "He's only my Professor."
Lena puts a hand to her heart and quickly apologizes to the two of them. "I was worried for a moment."
"Why?" Gillian asks, quite bitterly. "Charles is a wonderful man."
"Gillian—" Charles begins.
"And why are you even here, mom?" Her voice is raising several inappropriate standings.
"Gillian!" Charles shouts, only to silence her. "You are only but a young lady and she is an adult. You will not disrespect your mother in my home. Understood?"
It is the first time Charles has ever gotten relatively loud with her and Gillian is surprised. She shrinks away in the recliner and childishly crosses her arms over her chest, looking down into her lap. "Yes, Professor. Understood."
He nods at her and looks back to Lena. "I apologize, Lena."
"It's okay, she's like that sometimes," Lena answers, forcing a smile even though her heart is aching.
Gillian wants to make a smart remark, but before she can, Charles gives her a look that warns her about the repercussions. You're being very disrespectful, Gillian, he says inside her head. It is to stop right this moment.
She nods and rolls her eyes out of his line of view.
"If it's fine with you, Charles, I'd like to talk to Gillian in private?" Lean says.
"I understand completely," Charles replies.
"Thank you."
He nods and begins to wheel himself away, quickly turns his body to face Gillian again. "Don't be curt, Gillian," he demands. Charles rolls away to the elevator and it pings quietly as it reaches the ground floor. Charles wheels in and the doors close behind him, suddenly, it's quiet again.
"You're eighteen now, right?" Lena asks, attempting to break the inelegant silence. "Your birthday was... um..."
Gillian nods. "Last week."
"Right," Lena says, nodding. "Last week."
"It's sad, when your own mother doesn't know your birthday."
"You can't blame me, Gillian. You've been gone—"
"And you've forgot me."
Lena opens her mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it when she can't formulate a reply.
"Please," Gillian begins. "Don't bullshit me. Cut to the chase, mom."
Without warning, chalky white, glittering restraints bind her to the seat and tighten around her body. Her arms are forced to her sides and she tries to shimmy free of the impediments, but they just keep getting tighter and tighter with every attempt. Trembling with apprehension, she frantically looks to her mother. Lena's eyes are completely white and she's towering over the coffee table between them, face tautened.
"What are you doing?" Gillian cries. "You're hurting me! Stop!"
"You will not be discourteous with me!" Lena shouts, the octave of her voice echoes.
Gillian is hysterically crying and fighting her restraints, all to no avail. "Stop! Please! Mom!"
Lena's eyes roll back into green and the bindings disappear, freeing Gillian. She falls back onto the couch with exhaustion and shakes her head, trying to regain her thoughts.
"Who are you!" Gillian shouts, trying to suppress her crying.
"Sorry. It takes over sometimes."
"What takes over?"
Lena sighs and looks at Gillian. "I'm like you, Gillian. A mutant."
The words go right through Gillian like nothing and her disbelieving eyes bore into her mother. Gillian shakes her head frantically and puts her hands out. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I was the first one to notice your mutation, Gill."
"Stop."
"I saw the first time you exploded—"
"No, you didn't!" she shouts. "I was in the woods by myself when it happened and I was thirteen."
Lena shakes her head. "You were five. You started convulsing and shaking and crying and I didn't know what was going on. All of a sudden, pieces of you are strewn across the bedroom." She curses beneath her breath. "Why do you think we moved to New York? You think I actually like it here?"
"How was I supposed to know why?"
"Why did you leave?" Lena asks, completely changing the subject. "I woke up and you were gone. No note, no letters, no phone calls."
"I didn't want to hurt you, mom. I'm a danger."
Lena begins tearing. "You should've told me."
"Yes, mom. What was I thinking?" Gillian says sarcastically. "Of course I should've told you." She narrows her eyes slightly. "What the hell was I supposed to say? 'Hey mom, I just exploded in the woods and now I expect you to accept me.'" She shakes her head. "It was so difficult dealing with it."
"That's how it is for everyone, baby," Lena replies.
"How did you find me?"
Lena sighs. "My mutation allows for things like that. I can find anyone."
There is another moment of silence. "Can you... find dad?"
"Let's not talk about him."
"You said you can find anyone, though. Can you find dad?"
"Gillian..."
"Can you find dad?" Gillian repeats.
"Your father is dead, Gillian!" Lena shouts, irritated with her daughter's persistence.
Her world stops for a moment. The fireplace crackles and the wind outside is rampant, crashing against the manor and shaking the windows in their panes. She shifts in her seat and the tears flow more furiously now, she clings to the armrest and trembles.
"You said he was gone. You lied to me."
"Gill, I didn't lie."
"You said that he left us, you lied to me! You're a liar!"
"What happened was an accident!" Lena shouts.
Gillian furrows her eyebrows. "An accident? What do you mean?"
She sighs, "When you were nine months old, your father and I had a horrible fight. He found out that I was a mutant and threatened to call the police on me." Lena wipes the tears from her eyes. "I couldn't let him take me from you, you needed me. So I blasted all of the phones and barricaded all of the doors, if he left, I would lose you. He kept throwing all of the plates at me so that I wouldn't come near him." She chuckles slightly. "Luckily, none of them hit me. But he was so mad and I was so mad and my powers got out of control."
"No," Gillian cries, shaking her head.
"A light flourished inside of him, he started screaming and then I was screaming because I wanted to stop it," she whimpers, trying to keep her sobbing quiet. "But the light was so intense. The next thing I know, he's a pile of ash on the kitchen floor."
"...you killed him." It's a statement, not a question.
"It was an accident, Gillian. I swear."
Gillian looks around, blinking the tears from her eyes. It's shocking to both when Gillian gets up and walks over to her mother, wrapping her arms around her and pulling her close. "I'm so sorry," she chokes out between sobs. "I'm so sorry, mommy."
"I know, I know," Lena says, stroking Gillian's hair. "And I know I can't make you come home with me," she begins, holding her out at arm's length by the shoulders. "But I don't want you to."
"What?"
"You're happy here, I can see it. You're tired, but you have a light in your eyes that you never had at home," Lena answers, holding Gillian's face in her hands. "I want you to stay and learn and be free here." Lena stands up sadly and starts for the door.
"Mom?" Gillian stands up. "Mom? Where are you going?"
"I love you all the same, Gill," she replies, turning to face her. "Just, never forget that. Will you?"
Gillian nods. "Never."
"Hopefully," Lena starts, putting up her hands. "I'll see you soon."
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I walk you to your car?" Gillian asks.
Her mother laughs and gestures to Gillian's entirety. "You're practically naked and it's freezing outside. I can't let you do that."
Gillian shrugs her shoulders. "You do crazy shit for the people you love."
Lena beams with a smile, walking to Gillian and holding her face in her hands. "And I love you enough to not want you to catch a cold." She plants a gentle kiss on her forehead and grins. "I am still your mother, after all. Do as you are told and stay in the house."
Gillian nods and smiles.
Before she reaches the door, Lena turns around and scratches the nape of her neck. "Gill, did you have sex last night?"
Like a deer in effulgent headlights, Gillian freezes, but looks down at the shirt she's wearing and nods sheepishly. "Yeah."
"It's your first time?"
"Yes."
"Did you use protection?"
Gillian is taken aback. "Of course we did."
"Is he good to you?" Lena asks.
"He's wonderful, mom."
"How long have you been together?"
"About four and a half months."
"Do you love him?"
She has to think on that question, putting her fingers on her lips and biting them. "Honestly? No."
"No?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"No, I mean no."
"No or yes?"
"No, I don't. But it's still soon in the relationship, I've never liked a guy like I like him right now. It won't be too soon until I fall in love with him," Gillian answers with a smile.
Lean nods. "I'm happy that you're happy."
Without exchanging anymore words, Lena leaves content with a half-smile plastered on her face. Upon hearing the door close, Charles takes the elevator downstairs and wheels over to Gillian who has taken a seat on the recliner. She is in shock and she is confused and she is abashed and she is happy. Charles puts a hand on her bare knee, but quickly recedes from her divested flesh. He notices the moisture on her face and gently pulls her into a hug.
"She's proud of you," Charles whispers.