Hello, and welcome to another segment of-okay, I can't do this.
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Logan glances over at the kid. She's been quiet ever since they left that damn bar, and that was almost an hour ago. She didn't ask where they were going, didn't ask for his name, didn't even offer her own. He would have blamed it on fear, but she was calm the whole time too. Even back at the bar, when the gun was on her. She cracked a joke. No fear scent.
Kid was used to this kind stuff. Logan wasn't going to lie. It pisses him off when a kid has seen so much crap they don't know how to be afraid anymore.
The girl looks out the window, her dark eyes on the moon. Wild eyes. He's seen eyes like hers before. Have your back if they like you, but if they don't? Lord have mercy on your soul.
The silence feels awkward. Logan keeps his eyes on the road. All he wanted was a night away from the brats at the school, throw a couple punches and get some spending cash, but no. What's up with him finding kids at crap bars? At least now he knows where to take this one. Hopefully Chuck won't mind.
The girl takes a breath. Logan glanced down at her as she speaks.
"Um, thanks, I guess," she says in a rather monotone voice. Didn't sound very thankful.
"Welcome." It comes out harsher than he means it to. The girl nods and looks down at the bag in her hands.
"So, you're a mutant too?" she asks as if asking what he had for lunch. He nods once. He can feel her sharp eyes on him, burning into him. Studying him. He clears his throat.
"What'd'ya call yourself, kid?" he asks gruffly. The girl looks down, her dark hair falling over her face, hiding her expression.
"Hawthorne," she says quietly.
"Hawthorne?" Logan tries it out. It tastes funny. "That your last name?"
The girl, Hawthorne, clenches her hands into fists. "Dunno."
"'Dunno'?" Logan looks down at the girl. She keeps her face hidden. "Well, how old are ya?"
"Fifteen." She pauses. "I think."
Oh, damn. Damn it to hell. Kid's a fucking amnesiac. How is she not freaking out? Why does he always get stuck with these problems? Chuck better be able to fix this.
The girl speaks again. "Um, if you don't mind me asking," she starts, sounding like she'd go on with the question even if he did mind, "where are we going?"
Ah, there it is. Logan was starting to worry. What kind of kid just gets into a truck with a complete stranger without knowing where he's going? Well, there was Rogue, but…
"A school, uh, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters." He glances down to see the girl's arched eyebrow, her eyes sharp. "It's a place for people like us. Mutants. A sanctuary. They'll help you out," he says.
"How far is it?"
"'Bout another two hours," Logan answers. The girl is quiet for a second.
"Help me?"
Her voice sounded strange. The feral looks down at her. She's looking at him funny. He nods once. "Yeah. There's a telepath there. If anyone can find your memories, it's him."
If she doesn't have a malfunctioning brain like his own. Hawthorne stays quiet. She has a concentrated look on her face, as if she's thinking about what he had just said. Before she can say anything about it, a soft grumbling noise fill the cab of the truck. Hawthorne's eyes go wide in shock before her face turns a rather bright shade of red, considering how pale she's looking. Logan will have to make sure Jean and Hank get a look at her. The girl's hands cover her stomach and she looks down in embarrassment.
Logan can't help it. He smirks. Hawthorne doesn't see it. She's too busy staring down at her lap. Logan sighs. Keeping his eyes on the road, he lifts up the center armrest and pulls out a granola bar. Rogue had made him take a couple for the drive. He didn't even like granola bars, but the kid had pulled some puppy dog eyes and he couldn't say no.
Those damn brats are making him soft.
Logan can feel Hawthorne tense next to him. He glances down at her as he holds out the bar to her. She looks up at him confused. "Here, kid." He waves it at her. She hesitates, but after a second takes it.
"Thanks," she mumbles, taking her time to open it. He half expects her to scarf the thing down, but instead she just breaks off a small piece, studies it for a second, smells it. He doesn't know if she's checking to see if he laced it with something—smart kid if that's what's up—or if she's just never seen one before. Once she's happy with what she sees, the kid nibbles at a corner, then pops the piece in her mouth.
"So, what were you doin' in that damn place anyway?" Logan asks. The girl shrugs.
"Wanted food." She rips another piece of the bar apart and eats it. She looks up at Logan as she chews. "What's your name?" she asks bluntly.
"Logan."
"Logan." Hawthorne tries it out. Then smirks. "That your last name?" The feral looks down at the girl.
"Smart ass," he mutters, shaking his head. The kid yawns once, wrapping up what's left of the bar and setting it on her lap.
"So in about two hours, we're getting to that school place?" she asks.
"Yeah."
"Cool." The girl glances up at him, and something flashes in those wild eyes of hers. "You know, if you lied, I will kill you," she says simply. Logan isn't surprised by those words, and he has a feeling that—even with his healing factor—the kid probably put a good hurting on him. He looks over at her, sees her looking out the window, and shakes his head.
Oh, yeah. He could tell this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Charles Xavier closes his eyes for a second, and a faint smile crosses his features. There's a knock at his door. "Come in."
He opens his eyes as the door opens, revealing three adults. Two women, one with long, fiery red hair, and the other with shockingly white hair, cut short. The other is a man wearing red sunglasses despite being inside.
"You wanted to see us, Professor?" Jean Grey asks. Xavier smiles up at them.
"Yes, Jean, come in," he says, and the trio walks in. "It would seem that we will be having a new addition to our school," he says knowingly. The X-Men exchange looks.
"Should we use the Blackbird?" Scott Summers asks; his voice almost excited. Jean looks over at him, a faint smile on her lips. That man loves that thing too much. Xavier chuckles.
"No, Scott, there is no need." Scott looks a bit put out with that.
"Are the parents bringing the child?" Ororo Munroe asks; her voice lightly accented. Xavier shakes his head.
"No. Logan's bringing her home." His eyes light up. "Ah. That would be them."
I don't know what I was expecting.
I follow Claws down a hall, and every now and then I can feel his eyes on me. Checking my reaction. I try to keep my face blank, but it must not work. The guy keeps smirking at me. Jerk.
"So, uh, how do you know these people?" I ask, glancing into a room we pass. Expensive.
"I teach here." I stop short to stare at the man in front of me. There is no way this brute teaches here. James Bond doesn't teach. He must notice that I've stopped, but doesn't stop. "Don't fall behind, kid."
I crinkle my nose, but hurry after him, my boots' stomping echoing throughout the hall. "You teach? What do you teach?" I demand, only to smirk. "Wait, let me guess. English."
Claws shoots me a Shut-Up look. "Smart ass," he mutters, shaking his head. "And no, not English," he snaps gruffly. "Defense."
"Defense? What do you do? Run at the poor kids with those knives of yours?" I crack a grin at the glare he shoots me. "Sorry, Claws," I say, not sorry at all, "but you don't exactly look teacher material."
Claws takes a breath, no doubt trying to stay calm. "Damn brat," he grumbles. "Shoulda made ya walk."
"But you didn't. See, you're a decent human, after all," I say in mock brightness. Then frown at how we turn to a plain hall, no more expensive shit on the walls. "Where're we going now?" I demand.
"Infirmary," Claws says simply. "You look like shit, kid."
I stop short. "Infirm… like, with a doctor?" I look down the hall, narrow my eyes at it. Maybe I can make a run for it, knock him out with a club or something. He must sense my discomfort, because he stops and looks back at me.
"What?" he demands.
"I don't like doctors," is my automatic response.
"Why not?"
"Can't remember," I admit bluntly. "And you tard, I do not look like shit," I snap, knowing the words are a lie. At least, I feel like shit. Head's pounding. I wonder if this is how Zeus felt when Athena was born. I feel for the guy. Even though he's a myth and doesn't actually exist.
Claws smirks. "Tell that to a mirror." His eyes harden a bit, probably sees how I tense. "And don't even think about runnin'."
"Quick, what color am I thinking of?" I deadpan. "Is it really necessary? I mean, I feel fine…" I trail off at the look he gives me. "No?" The mutant in front of me sighs.
"Relax, Boots, the docs here ain't gonna kill you," he assures as I start to follow him again. I give him an annoyed look.
"Was that a Dora reference?" I demand. "Because I am not a monkey."
He looks down at me like I'm crazy. "The hell is a Dora?"
"You know, little Mexican girl with a talking monkey best friend and the purple back pa…" I trail off. He stares at me, no doubt wondering how he got stuck with me. "No?"
"How do you even—?"
"Shut up. They had it playing in a Wal-Mart I spent a couple of nights at." I pause, ignoring the sympathetic look. "Had some catchy tunes, though," I say with a small smile, the Map song playing through my head. "And I have a name. Kinda. Hawthorne."
"I have a name too. Logan."
"But I like Claws better," I tell him.
"And I like Boots." I glare at him as we stop in front of a white door. He knocks once before pushing it open, grabbing a fistful of my jacket's hood when I make a last minute attempt of freedom. "Don't even think about it," he growls, pulling me in after him.
"But do I have to?" I look up at him, pull some puppy dog eyes I have no idea where I learned. "Can't we just, I dunno, not, and say we did?" He rolls his eyes and plants me next to him, not letting go of my jacket as we face four new people. I stare at them for a second. "Oh. Hello." I clear my throat as I yank my hood out of Claws's hand, glaring at him as I do so. I glance around, barely suppressing a shudder. "This your science room? It's very… science-y."
And it is. Looks like a lab. I don't like labs. I wish I could remember why though. I look at the four new people. Two women, a white ginger chick and a black chick with white hair. Ha. I'm gonna call her Oreo. Is that racist? I hope it's not racist. Two men, one a tall dude, dark hair. Why the hell is he wearing sunglasses? Inside. At night. Like that one song. The last is some bald dude in a wheelchair.
Best bet would be to take out Shades first. Oreo looks tougher, so she's next, then the ginger. But then we still have Claws—
"I assure you, there is no need for violence," Baldy says in a soothing voice. Eat your heart out, Morgan Freeman. Wait. Crap.
"What color am I thinking of?" I ask.
"You're not thinking of a color. You're thinking of Batman," the man says, a warm smile playing at him lips. I look up at Claws.
"He's good." Claws just smirks.
"Hawthorne, I presume," he guesses. I nod once.
"Yeah, that's me." Claws nudges my arm, shooting me a glare at the tone I use. Baldy doesn't seem to mind though. He just keeps on smiling.
"I am Professor Charles Xavier," he says. "These are the other teachers here. Dr. Jean Grey," the ginger steps up. "Ororo Munroe," ha! He name even sounds like Oreo! "And Scott Summers." I look at them; study them. Jean smiles warmly at me. What's up with that?
I don't try to figure out what though. Ice pick totally took out about half of my brain. Not really, but it sure feels like it. I bring a hand up and rub my temple, crinkling my nose. Head ache needs to piss off.
"You alright, Boots?" There's a frown in his voice.
"Peachy, Claws," I mutter. "Just peachy." I open my eyes to see the concerned look coming from the four newbies. Oh. Hey. Dizzy. Dizzy needs to not be here.
"Logan," Ginger starts, her voice somewhat alarmed. She takes a step forward. I blink once before my legs turn into gel-o. I hate gel-o. Last thing I see is Claws jumping forward to catch me as I start to face-plant.
So much for first impressions.
Any and all mistakes are mine. Because I'm selfish like that. Apologies.