Author's Note: I do not own any of the X-Men except for Steam which is a creation of my own daydreams.
Enjoy, review, let me know how I'm doing, please no flames.
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To: Charles F. Xavier,
It is with the deepest regret that I write this letter. My name is Hans Leecher, and I am writing on the behalf of Dr. Robert Hanson. While Dr. Hanson was living, I was his attorney, and now that he has unfortunately passed, I am the executor of his will. I write this to inform you that Dr. Hanson has declared you to be the guardian of his daughter, Elizabeth Hanson. Please contact me as soon as you receive this letter.
Sincerely,
Hans L. Leecher
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"This is bullshit. Mac won't give me the goods. He said our money wasn't good anymore." Wezzer leaned over, out of breath at the end of his speech. He glanced at Steam and lifted an eyebrow. He had run all the way back from Mac's apartment, dodging through alleys to avoid notice. It was raining hard out side and his clothing dripped on the floor.
Steam lifted a hand and focused on Wezzer's clothing. A strong red light flashed from her palm and enveloped Wezzer for a moment. Immediately a cloud of steam rose from his clothing, filling the air with fog. Steam lifted her hand higher and suddenly the steam in the air was gone, sucked into her body. Wezzer's clothing was dry once more.
"Thanks," Wezzer mumbled. Steam's powers made him uncomfortable. The rest of the group had no problem with her being a mutant, but somehow, knowing that even though she looked human, when really she wasn't, made his skin crawl.
Steam withdrew her hand with no sign that she had heard Wezzer. She fished around in the pocket of her padded black vest and pulled out a wad of money. "Here. Take this to Mac and see if this is good enough for him. Tell him if he doesn't, he'll have to deal with the consequences."
Wezzer bobbed his head and took off down the length of the warehouse. Steam did not turn to watch him disappear into the gloom. Instead she focused on the view from the open doorway she was sitting near.
The rain was now coming down in torrents. Each drop was a sign of power for Steam. She could feel the heat in her blood, skimming along under her skin, the power waiting to be tapped. She closed her eyes, listening to the subconscious humming of her power.
Steam was quite the contradiction, an oxymoron in a world of irony. She was fire and water, two competing elements, in one; steam. Water could not drown her. Fire could not burn her. She was a melding of two parts made into one. The fire burned inside of her making it that all she needed was a ready source of liquid in order to create steam. She could form steam into projectiles, scalding hot, ready to be hurled at anyone who came too close.
She could also create flames. Usually the fires she created were small and not very powerful, used mainly to light cigarettes and trashcans full of garbage for warmth. She lifted her hand to eye level and concentrated for a split second until a tiny blue-yellow flame erupted from her palm. She studied the flame, blowing gently on it, making it wave in the air. Too caught up in the flame, Steam didn't hear the soft creak of floor boards under a boot heel.
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Charles Francis Xavier was in his office, sitting in a pool of sunshine, reminiscing. He glanced down at the letter that had prompted this cycle of memories running through his mind. Robert Hanson. Imagine that. Charles hadn't spoken or seen Robbie in years, not since the day Eliza had been born and Rose Hanson had passed away. That was ….what? eighteen or nineteen years ago. Charles sighed; it was impressive how time flew by. And now he was the legal guardian of Eliza Hanson. He hadn't seen the girl since she was just a few days old.
Charles set the letter down on the edge of his desk and he gripped the arm of his wheelchair. He rolled over to the bookshelves that lined the left wall of his office and bent down to a cabinet. He opened the door, tugging slightly; it hadn't been opened in years.
A cloud of particles and dust filled the air, dancing in the sunlight, and causing Charles to sneeze. He cleared his head with a slight shake and reached down into the cabinet. Where was it? His fingers groped over the wooden shelf. Ah there it was! His fingers alighted on the soft leather cover of a book.
Slowly, careful not to disturb more dust, Charles withdrew the book. The cover was still in good condition. The leather was still soft and held a soft shine. Charles plucked the handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the dust of the front, revealing gold tooling formed into words.
Photographs
Charles held the book in one hand and let it fall open. Inside was a cascade of pictures. A family of two, then three, then two once more. Pictures of Rose and Robbie's wedding were in the front. A picture of Rose bending down to hug Charles with Robbie standing over both of them smiling fondly took up a whole page. Next came pictures of a very pregnant, and yet glowing, Rose. And then there were pictures of Rose and her tiny newborn daughter at the hospital, Robbie beaming from besides them. Suddenly Rose disappeared from the pictures. There were no pictures showing Eliza's early years. They jumped from her birth to her fourth birthday. The pictures continued until Eliza's fourteenth birthday. The last few pages of the book were blank; there were no pictures to put there.
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"Got a light?"
Steam snarled, clenching her fists and extinguishing the flame that had burned in the palm of her hand. She whirled around readying herself as she turned.
She sunk into a crouch, one arm extended, the other reaching for the knife stuck into the top of her boot.
"Easy now."
A tall hairy man stepped into the doorway, hands held high, one holding a cigar. He was wearing work boots peeping out from dirty jeans. A white t-shirt and worn leather jacket completed the outfit.
A growl bubbled up from the back of Steam's throat. She was angry at this stranger for approaching her, and even angrier for letting this guy sneak up on her. Why hadn't one of the lookouts from outside warned her?
"Elizabeth? Elizabeth Hanson?" they guy asked, raising one eyebrow.
Steam stilled. Her body constricted, her fingers pausing their reach for the knife. The trickle of steam that was curling away from the palm of her out stretched hand stopped, hanging still in mid air.
"What did you say?"
The man slowly lowered his hands. "That's you name isn't kiddo?" He brought the cigar to his lips and glanced up at Steam. "Gotta light?"
Steam studied the man for a second longer before she slowly rose from her crouch. "Don't call me by that name, and certainly don't call me kiddo." She flicked her fingers sending a small streak of flame towards the stranger. The flame alighted on the end of his cigar which glowed brightly of a moment before dying down to a more appropriate level.
The man nodded his thanks and puffed on the cigar for a moment. "So what should I call you then?"
Steam let out a low chuckle and flicked her fingers again. At once a great cloud of steam rose from the stranger's wet clothing. Steam straightened her arm and used her power to suck the steam inside of her. The cloud of steam spiraled past the strangers head, ruffling the hair on the side of his head, and disappeared into Steam's hand.
"Steam. Call me Steam."
She turned and made her way to what looked like a couch and had probably been a couch in a former life time but now it was so worn and faded, it was hard to tell what it was now.
Steam flopped down onto the couch and pulled a pack of cheap cigarettes from a vest pocket. She held the cigarette to her lips and puffed, a flame appearing at the end of the cigarette.
"Now what am I suppose to call you?"
The stranger blew out a stream of smoke and smirked. "Logan."
Steam studied the stranger, letting her eyes roam over his body, enjoying what she saw.
"Well that doesn't explain what you want from me. Unfortunately I don't have any candy for sale right now. You should try back later."
Logan's smirk disappeared. "I'm not looking for candy, an old friend sent me to find you."
At once Steam sat up. "Who? If it's Johns tell him I'll have his money for him soon. It's just taking me a bit longer to get the amount that he needs."
Logan shook his head and took a few steps closer. "Not Johns. It's a friend of your father's."
Steam took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke from her nostrils. A nasty smile played across her lips. "I don't have a father and if I did he certainly wouldn't have any friends."
"How about Charles Xavier?" Logan came another step closer, flicking ashes from his cigar.
Steam tensed for a moment before relaxing. If Logan had blinked he would have missed it.
"Sorry can't help you there. I can't say I'm familiar with any Charlies."
Logan shrugged and flicked his cigar to the ground. He rolled the ball of his foot across the ground, grinding the cigar's flame out.
"Well if you do happen to remember having a father and his friends. The Professor would like to speak to you."
Steam nodded, blowing another stream of smoke from her mouth.
"Thanks for the tip."
Logan nodded, pausing like he had something more to say. "Take care kiddo." He turned and disappeared through the doorway into the rain.
Steam released the breath she had been holding. She brought her cigarette to her lips but instead of smoking it she held it out and focused on the flame. It flared briefly before dying completely.
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Weezer rolled over in his sleep and snuffled wetly. He had gotten lucky tonight and had grabbed one of the dry blankets before any of the others had. As he shifted in his sleep, the blanket pulled away and let a cool breeze filter in.
Weezer shivered in his sleep and slowly woke up. He opened one eye and then the other, slowly letting them adjust to the dark. The fire in the trashcan that Steam had lit earlier had died down to barely glowing embers. Steam's pack laid about the trashcan. Some had blankets like Weezer. Others slept close together trying to keep warm. Steam herself had claimed the couch. Sometimes she slept on the couch and other times she let someone else sleep there.
A soft clink from near the door caught Weezer's attention. He rolled over onto his back and cocked his head to the right. He squinted his eyes trying to make out shapes in the shadows.
Weezer couldn't see anything but that didn't mean something wasn't wrong. The hair on the back of Weezer's neck was standing straight up.
Slowly so not to attract attention to himself, Weezer pulled the blanket off from himself and shifted his weight. Making sure the couch was between him and the shadows in the corner, Weezer began to crawl towards Steam.
Steam tensed. She felt a weight on her arm. She shifted slightly and brought her other arm up.
Weezer froze. He could feel the heat from her palm against his face. "Steam, something's wrong."
Steam opened her eyes and glanced at Weezer. She opened her mouth but before she could say anything Weezer gasped and his face paled.
Weezer pulled away from Steam, his hands lowering to his stomach.
Steam turned, gripping the edge of the couch. She bit back a gasp as she saw the blood leaking through Weezer's shirt. It was then she heard the second shot.
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Logan glanced out at the trees surrounding the school. He flicked the remains of his cigar out of the window and turned back into the room.
His room at the school wasn't large or extravagant. It was modest but comfortable. He sighed and crossed the few feet to his bed.
The Professor hadn't said anything but he could see it in his eyes. He said he hadn't expected Logan to return with Eliza but Logan could see that Charles had still hoped that she would have come back with him.
The bedsprings groaned as Logan sank onto his bed. He leaned back against the headboard and toyed with the idea of flicking the television on.
"Going to bed already old man?"
Logan cursed and he leaped from his bed, claws extended.
Steam sat crouched on his windowsill. Her head was lowered, her mangy hair covering her face. She held one arm close to her body.
Logan's claws retracted immediately and he reached out to Steam.
"What made you change your mind kiddo?" He kept his tone light, teasing, trying not to let worry cloud his voice.
Steam waved him off and extended a foot. She made to step down from the windowsill but her other leg was stuck under her and she stumbled down instead and into Logan's arms.
"It's alright, I'm fine."
Logan held the girl back, his eyes scanning her for damage.
Steam's brown-red hair was matted with sweat and what looked like blood. Her eyes were wide, her pupils huge, dilated, the whites were streaked with red. A cut split her bottom lip. Blood from the cut was smeared on her cheek.
The vest she had been wearing earlier was gone. The black t-shirt she was wearing was covered in dust and looked stiff with dried blood.
"What the hell happened?"
Logan turned and put his arm around Steam's shoulders, taking her weight and leading her to his bed. He sat her down, pulling the blanket off and wrapping it around her.
"Are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?"
Steam shuttered and nodded. She shrugged her right shoulder, letting the blanket fall away. She had taken a bullet through her shoulder.
"Fuck. Hold on. You need help."
Logan sprang to his feet and sprinted to the door.
The door was made from solid oak and the crash it made as Logan slammed it open reverberated down the hall.
"Help. Professor. Help."
Logan pelted down the hallway making for the staircase leading to the Professor's rooms below.
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Logan gripped the doorway and flipped himself into his room. Storm and the Professor were right behind him.
Steam had collapsed on the bed, her hair fanning out over his pillow. The edge of his blanket was dipped in red.
"Eliza!"
Charles used the edge of his wheelchair to push past Logan who had frozen at the sight of Steam. He bumped into the bed in his hurry to reach the wounded girl. He reached out, his hand trembling. Slowly his eyes closed.
Storm came to stand behind Logan, she laid a hand on his shoulder, freeing him. He straightened up.
"Who is she Logan?"
"Eliza Hanson."
"Who?"
Logan shook his head. "I'll explain later, right now we have to get her downstairs to the infirmary."
Charles opened his eyes. "I've done all that I can for her. Logan, carry her downstairs. Storm go ahead of us and prepare the infirmary."
Storm nodded and took off at a sprint down the hallway.
Logan came to the side of his bed and carefully picked Steam up. Her head lolled against his arm. His bloody blanket slipping to the floor.
"Careful Logan. I want her in one piece at the end of this."
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