Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or any X-Men related material. Well, except this story.
Second, more important disclaimer: I am an amateur fan of the X-Men, so I apologize in advance for any discontinuities in storyline, characters, etc. While I am doing my homework, I really only have the three movies to work from. Also, I apologize for creating an original character, but because of my lack of X-Men character knowledge, I needed to create a vessel for the story. I hope you enjoy, I'll take any kind of review you want to throw at me, the good and the bad…. Did I forget anything?
Edit: Fixed a typo: 2 is supposed to be 20.
Wetting her lips, Alex stared out of her bug-splattered windshield at the monolith towering above her. Ivy hid the original brickwork from sight, but she was pretty sure it was old, at least turn of the century. The grounds were meticulous and so well kept that she would not have been surprised to see an elderly gardener measuring and cutting each grass blade by hand. In short, the Xavier Institute of Higher Learning was gorgeous.
It was also intimidating. When, after a month of faxed resumes and phone interviews, Alex accepted the position, she'd no idea what the school would be like. She'd expected some futuristic building of straight lines and steel or perhaps a run-down inner-city hovel where the teachers struggled to make ends meet and keep the building from being condemned, but not a mansion in the middle of acres and acres of space.
She popped the trunk and, heels clicking on the pavement, walked back to retrieve her bags. Her biggest suitcase was heavy and, when she pulled with all her weight, it merely became stuck against the wall of her trunk. Once again, she cursed her decision to dress in a suit. Sure, she was starting a new job, but she was also moving. Alex wanted to make a good impression, but trying to move in stilettos was perhaps the most ridiculous thing she'd done. An exaggeration- it was the most ridiculous thing she'd done that month.
As she yanked her luggage, grunting in the hot sun, the front doors opened. A white-haired woman and a younger boy, probably in his late teens, stepped out. "Miss Genoux?" the woman asked.
Alex smiled politely and hoped that her flushed face and beading forehead weren't noticeable. Abandoning her baggage, she walked over and shook the woman's hand. "That's me. Are you Ms. Munroe?"
"Call me Ororo. Welcome to the Institute." She glanced at the Jetta in the drive. "If you want, I can show you where the garage is."
"Sure, I just need to get one more bag out of the back." Alex shifted in place, embarrassed to have people watch her futilely pull at her stuck suitcase.
Ororo must have sensed her hesitance and pointed to the boy standing with his arms clasped behind his back. "This is Peter Rasputin, one of our senior students. I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you with your things."
Alex's smile turned into a genuine one. "That would be great. Thanks."
"Of course," Peter replied quietly.
Ororo walked towards the car and opened the passenger door. "You drive and I'll direct."
Alex took the driver's position and waited for Peter to close the trunk lid. "Thanks again," she called out the window as she started the engine.
"It's over to the right," the woman told her, pointing in the same direction. "So, was your drive alright?"
"Well, California to Westchester is a long trip, but I made it alright. Took me, what, five days?"
"I told you we would fly you. It was certainly not an inconvenience."
Alex shrugged. "I like my car. I didn't want to sell it. Like I said, I made it alright." Pulling up to the side of the building, two sliding doors were opened by unseen hands, revealing a garage full of sports cars and what looked to be modified street racers. Suddenly she felt embarrassed of her older sedan. "You have quite a collection."
Ororo paused. "They mostly belonged to one of our former teachers. Mine is the Mercedes in the corner." The friendliness had gone out of her voice and the anxiety had returned to Alex's throat. She'd certainly not meant to upset her new employer, and it sounded like she'd struck a cord. However, the woman's face quickly returned to its stiff smile.
Alex parked the Volkswagen and got out. "So, the Institute wasn't really what I was expecting."
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't really know," Alex said. "You didn't tell me much on the phone. I mean, you asked a lot of questions, but I didn't really learn much about you."
Opening the door in the back of the garage, Ororo ushered the younger woman into the building. "Well, my name is Ororo Munroe, although most people just call me Storm. I recently took over the Xavier Institute and since then have been trying to recruit enough teachers to teach all of the classes."
"You know I don't have any teaching certificates or anything, right?" Alex asked hesitantly, following the white-haired woman through the maze of halls. "I mean, I just don't understand why you would hire me to teach when-"
Ororo interrupted. "Most of us don't have any formal teaching training. However, we're all here not for our academic qualifications, but our other talents. You are fluent in Italian and French and will be perfectly able to take over foreign language here at the school, but we also have a distinct need for other things you can teach."
"Do you mean my mutant powers? But mine aren't very strong. I can barely figure out how to use them myself. I just don't see why you called me."
"Alex, you saw what happened on the television."
"I was in Berkeley. I heard what happened."
Ororo led her into a large entryway and up a flight of stairs. "Dormitories are on the second floor, including the teachers'.
Well, most people didn't see what really happened. In fact, we've done a pretty good job of covering up the true events of that day." She stopped and turned to face Alex. "There is a group of mutants out there called the Brotherhood. They believe that they are superior to humans and that the only way to gain peace in life is to destroy all those without mutant powers. They are very dangerous and they are the ones behind moving the bridge and everything that happened on Alcatraz that night."
She turned once again and started back down the hall. "We at the Institute follow a different philosophy. We have been bullied at harassed and brutalized by humans. I'm sure you've experienced similar."
Alex nodded, remembering back to her desk job. Would she be here now had it not been for that little accident she'd had? Would she have considered moving across the country to take a position she wasn't qualified for had her co-workers not turned to her, looking from the imploded computer screen to her face, shrinking back in fear? Their thoughts could not have been any clearer had they chased her out with pitchforks. They knew she was a mutant and she was now a threat to people she'd chatted with an hour ago at lunch.
"But our founder, Charles Xavier dealt with the same things we do, except they were even worse for him. He found his powers before the mutant gene had been discovered and people thought he was a monster. But he worked from that time on to better mutant/human relations and many of the civil rights we have now came from bills that he funded. He believed that understanding could be reached and we could live together harmoniously." She stopped, thinking. "I don't know that I necessarily agree with everything he said, but it's certainly a noble cause to work for."
"Certainly," Alex echoed softly.
Storm took out a small key and unlocked a door to their right. Opening it, Alex saw a small wooden-paneled hallway leading into a cream-walled room. They walked into the main space, a spacious but rather plain bedroom. There was a bed, of course, a makeup table across from its foot, her luggage piled into the corner, and a dresser against the inside wall. There was a door between the dresser and a closet that Alex could see leading into a small bathroom, but what caught her attention was the view. Two French doors led to a balcony that overlooked a field of green grass and trees. It was breathtaking.
"Do I share this with someone else?" she asked, not believing her good luck.
"No, this is your room. I know it's a bit plain, but feel free to decorate however you wish- within reason. We've had to ask some of our other professors to take down rather vulgar posters they've put up," Ororo explained, chuckling.
"I don't have any of those," Alex replied quickly.
"I didn't think you did."
Storm plucked the key back from her pocket and placed it in Alex's hand. "If you need anything, please let me know. Breakfast is at seven fifteen on class days, and until ten on days off… lunch is always eleven to twelve… oh, and dinner is usually between six and nine, but on Sundays we all sit down to eat together at seven." When Alex didn't immediately reply, she added, "But you can certainly take your time unpacking. We don't expect you to be there your first night."
"I'll try. Where's the dining hall?"
"Just go down the stairs and take a right. You'll run into it." Suddenly Ororo looked a little nervous. "Alex, I know we haven't previously discussed this, but there is another subject that I need you to teach."
"And that is?" She asked, dreading the answer.
"Health… and Sexuality."
Alex balked. "I really don't think I'm qualified to do anything like that."
"I understand your feelings, but the rest of the professors already have full schedules. You're the only one with free periods."
"I'm sorry, I just don't feel comfortable teaching that class."
"No one feels comfortable teaching fifteen-year-olds about their bodies, but it still has to be done." Alex chewed her lip, hesitating. "May I offer you a twenty percent raise?" Ororo asked.
The condo and mound of unpaid bills from her previous life in California swam into Alex's mind. The sooner she could leave that behind, the better. "Fine," she conceded, "but I'll need some books or something. I'm not exactly up on the whole subject."
"Of course, I'll bring you some at supper. You can also meet some of the other professors." She walked toward the hall. "Welcome to the Institute, Alex, I really think you'll like it here."
"Thank you, Ororo," she called as she heard the door close. Alex quickly ran to the bathroom to relieve herself. It had been a long car trip and she'd barely been able to concentrate on Storm's words. As she flushed and washed her hands, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Despite the fact that she was only 26 and the Institute's head was like quite a bit older, they looked to be the same age. Perhaps Ororo had a young face, but Alex worried that maybe she was the old-looking one. She'd never touched a cigarette in her life, but she'd only taken to wearing sunscreen daily recently.
She'd taken care to straighten her that morning, but with all that had happened since then, flyaways created a blonde halo around her head. The pieces framing her blue eyes and pale skin were beginning to crinkle back into their usual curls. She'd have to get her iron back out and fix them before dinner.
She began unpacking her numerous bags, worry gnawing at her stomach. She'd spoken three languages since she could remember, but being able to do something was far different than teaching it to others. Besides, it sounded like these people wanted her more for her mutant powers than any language she spoke. But how the hell could she help them? Sure, she could jumpstart a car without using any cables, but what good did that do anyone whose battery wasn't dead?
Storm had extended her an invitation to come to the Institute, had looked her up, but what if Alex turned out not to be what she was looking for? Would she be fired? She couldn't go back to advertising, her ex-employer had certainly told everyone about what had happened and she was blacklisted from the entire field. She had no money, she had no prospects, and she'd given up any ties she did have to move across the country, which had seemed adventurous at first, but now looked like a foolish idea. Thank god the Institute had turned out to be a real place and a reputable one at that, but sometimes things looked different once you got to know them.
Still, if it waswhat it seemed to be, wouldn't that be wonderful? Alex let herself daydream a little about what life could be like: living in a mansion, never hiding who she was, never fearing her powers getting away from her. She tucked folded panties and socks neatly into dresser drawers, watching the clock to make sure she didn't miss the seven-o-clock dinner call.
As she reached for her final top and walked toward the closet, she suddenly felt strange, like her head was too full. "Alex…" a whisper echoed.
She spun around, searching the room for the origin of the voice. "H-hello?" She asked, fear plastering her to her spot.
"Alex…" it repeated and pain exploded in her temples. Gasping, unable to cry out from the intensity of it, she fell to the ground, stars exploding in front of her eyes.