Settled on a small couch, Spencer tucked his gloved hands in his armpits once more, trying not to flinch as a man covered in blue hair knelt down in front of him and pushed his pant leg up to get to the zipper of his boot. No sooner had Scott and Remy got Spencer in the office than this Hank had come rushing in, moving straight to Spencer as soon as he'd been pointed out. They'd settled Spencer on the couch and the doctor had dropped down right by Spencer's foot. "Let's take a look at this ankle. Which one is it?"
Reluctantly, Spencer had let him know which. He fought his wince as the doctor found the zipper and slid it down, releasing some of the pressure. A tug got the boot off, but also drained all color from Spencer's face. He made not a sound as he sat perfectly still. Every inch of his body went on lockdown. Not only because he knew better than to complain, but because he could feel his pain and exhaustion mingling in him, lessening his control enough that his hands were tingling underneath his gloves—hence the reason he had stuffed them in his armpits once more.
Hank's hands were surprisingly gentle as he examined the ankle, probing gently at it. "How is the pain? Dull and achy or sharp?" he asked Spencer.
The young doctor looked down, mentally assessing his injury. "Sharp when full body weight is applied but otherwise a steady ache and throb."
The flat way he spoke had Hank furrowing his eyebrows, but the man said nothing as he finished his examination before pulling an ace wrap out of the pocket of his lab coat. "Most likely a sprain. We'll put this on it and check it in the morning more thoroughly, I think." He didn't know that there would be no point. It would be fully healed by the morning time. But Spencer said nothing; he knew better than to argue with a doctor.
Once the ankle was wrapped, Hank looked up at him. "Are you injured anywhere else, young man? Anything at all?"
"Nothing." The tingle in his hands grew stronger and he fought to control it.
Logan moved forward, eyebrows furrowing, looking between Remy, who sat beside Spencer on the couch, and over to Spencer. "Gumbo, you charging anything?" The big man demanded. The question confused Spencer, who looked over to Remy only to find the Cajun raising an eyebrow at his friend as he said "Non, mon ami."
"I smell ozone." Logan said boldly. His eyes shifted from Remy to Spencer. All of a sudden three long claws slid out of either hand and Spencer finally placed who this man was. Sir had only had one thing on him for a name. Wolverine. But the adamantium skeleton and claws had been in the information he'd had, as well as the feral nature. That would explain why he'd said he could 'smell' ozone. "Back away from him." He snarled out suddenly.
To Spencer's surprise, everyone but Remy instantly obeyed. He looked at Remy when he realized that he'd stayed by his side. "Aren't you going to listen to your friend?" He couldn't help asking. "He's right to worry, you know. Being right by me isn't exactly the safest route, honey." The honey slipped out without thought; a habit from the streets that he found himself sliding into as he tried to pull on the character that Sir wanted him to play here.
Remy gave him a slightly lopsided grin. "Don't t'ink y'r here to hurt us." He said simply. The words stunned Spencer so that he could say nothing as Remy kept going. "Remy t'inks y'r here fo' help, just like everyone else. Remy, he feel how tired y' are, cher. He feel how hurt and tired and scared y' be. Y' don't gotta worry no more. Y'r safe here. We aint gonna hurt y' and y' aint gonna hurt us."
He's an empath, too Spencer realized. This man was an empath, among other things. He recalled Logan asking if Remy was charging something. Obviously he possessed an explosive power as well. Was there something about powers of a charged nature that seemed to breed empathy with them? Part of his brain couldn't help but ponder that.
He drew back to the present when the tingle in his hands made his fingers twitch a little. "Not intentionally." Spencer admitted in answer to Remy's words. No, he wouldn't hurt them intentionally, not right now. He had a job to do and he tried to remind himself of that, over and over. He couldn't afford to blow this place and potentially injure everyone inside. He needed to get them to take him in and trust him, not kill him. Mentally he quivered as he tried to control his powers. The tingle was spreading up from his hands, though, and into his arms. "You need to scoot back. Please."
Remy scooted over just a few inches, but he made a show of staying there once he did. "Not going nowhere, me. Look at Remy. T'ings gonna be ok, homme. Y' just gotta calm y'rself down. De professor is coming and he gonna help y'. He's a good man, cher."
"Why thank you, Remy." A cultured voice said. Spencer looked up to see Charles Xavier coming into the room. He didn't hesitate to bring his chair straight to where the two men were sitting on the couch. Stopping in front of them, he folded his hands in his lap and looked to Spencer. "Welcome to my home, young man. My name is Charles Xavier. And what do they call you?"
"Inanime." Curling his hands, he fought hard in his mind, forcing the charge back down his arms to sit only in his hands. In his hands, he could deal with. He'd almost grown used to having that tingle in them. At the same time, he gave a quick mental check, making sure his shields were firmly in place. This man was a telepath and there was no way Spencer could risk having the man enter his mind. He almost sighed when he found his shielding strong and secure.
Charles barely flinched at the name Spencer gave. "Interesting choice of name. Latin, I believe. Do you know the meaning to it?"
Closing his eyes behind his sunglasses, Spencer said "Yes." Lifeless or soulless, both definitions had been listed for it that Spencer had seen. It was apt for one such as him.
That brought quiet to the room. That quiet was broken when Logan stepped forward, his claws retracting once more. "The smell dulled." He told Charles. "Either he let go, or he's controlling it."
"I've got it under control." With those words, Spencer admitted to them that it was him and that, for a moment, he had been without control. "It's still there, but I'm containing it." Oh so slowly he pulled his hands from his armpits, resting them on his lap. His eyes locked on the leather gloves with their rubber insulation. Feeling his control, he decided he had enough to show them rather than tell them. The release of the electricity would help ease some of what was in him as well.
He undid the catch on one wrist, loosening it before grasping the fingers and sliding it off, revealing the slender, long-fingered hand underneath. Curling his hand palm up, he drew on the tingle in those fingers, drawing it out of his skin and into the space just above his palm. It started as a small spark, barely noticeable, but he fed a little more and a little more into it until he had a small ball of electrical energy in his hand. "I can manipulate electricity." He told the quiet room. "I can control, manipulate, absorb and even create it. All I need is the smallest spark and I can make it grow and grow to what I want it to be. The storm tonight has me a little overcharged." Very carefully he drew the electricity up from his hand. "Would one of you open that window for me?" he asked suddenly.
Ororo was the one to move and open the window, quickly stepping back. He gave the pretty woman a smile. "Thank you." With that, he focused the energy toward the open window, sending the electric ball flying outside where he released it, letting it flow into the air and make a fork of lightning up into the sky. The relief he felt as he released it was wonderful. His hands didn't tingle as much as they had.
He looked back down, picking up his glove. With a wry grin he turned the edge of it, showing it to the professor. "Rubber insulation. Sometimes, even that doesn't work, but that's only if it's really bad. I don't typically need these unless I'm exhausted or if I get emotional or ill. Or, occasionally my control wavers. Someone I know told me that you guys here help people like me to control this stuff. I can't afford to lose control of this. Last time I did…" He paused, swallowing as he remembered trying to control that much electricity in his body. To cover the pause, he pulled his glove back on. "…I shut down the entire power grid in the city I was in. It took them a week to repair all the damage."
"Oh my." Hank breathed out.
Charles just looked at him with a speculative look. Whatever he was thinking, it was hidden behind his eyes, and none of Spencer's profiling was letting him read anything from him. "I'm sure that we can help you, young man. I don't turn away those in need. We would be glad to welcome you to the school. There is just one question I have tonight before we send you to bed. The rest can wait for the morning."
Apprehensive, Spencer watched him with a steady look, adopting as casual a pose as possible. He pressed just a little bit and let his voice slip into something that was so far from the part he'd been recently playing that he'd almost forgotten how to do it. "An what's that, honey?"
If being called honey affected the older man, he didn't show any sign. He looked right at Spencer and asked him "What is your actual name? The one you gave…that's not something to call a person by and I can't simply continue to call you young man."
A snort slipped out before Spencer could stop it. No, it wasn't a name a person was called by. But creations like him? It was perfect. Still, Sir had always told him 'Be honest where it's safe. That makes the lies all the more believable.' And for this mission, he'd told him 'Do what is necessary to integrate yourself in with them .We want them to trust you implicitly. But betray me, Inanime, and I assure you, you will regret it.'
He schooled his features and slanted a look at the man who he would ultimately betray. "Spencer. My name is Spencer."
"Well, Spencer, welcome to my school." Charles didn't offer to shake his hand, the both of them knowing that wasn't best right now. But he did give him a wide smile that was a lot friendlier than Spencer had been expecting. "Tomorrow morning, I'd like you to join me after breakfast in my office. Remy, can I ask you to help him find a room and to find his way to my office in the morning?"
"D'accord, Professor." The Cajun agreed.
"Good. Now that this is settled, let us all retire."
As the others slowly started to file from the room, Remy reached over and patted Spencer's gloved hand. "Come on, mon ami. Y' t'ink y' can walk a ways till we get y' to a room?"
Spencer tried to act as casual as possible despite the exhaustion that was pulling at him. Play your part. Play your part. "Sure thing, honey. I can walk just fine." He smiled before bending down and unzipping his other boot, yanking it off once he was done. He picked both boots up in one hand and put his rucksack over his shoulder. Then he rose, trying not to wince too much at his ankle. "Let's go."
The walk to the rooms was quiet. Remy seemed to be content to leave Spencer to his thoughts, which he appreciated. There was quite a lot to process for one evening and he was just too tired to manage it as well as maintain a conversation. When they finally stopped, he looked up and around him, seeing only a hallway with a few doors. Remy lift a hand and pointed to a room on the right. "Dis is m' room. On de other side of Remy be Logan. Dere's a room on m' other side, or one across de hall here. Y' can take either one, cher."
Right beside the Cajun or across the hall? One would let him be close and might encourage a sense of friendship between them, something that would benefit his work. The other, however, would grant him a little more privacy, something he knew he desperately needed. The most logical choice won out. He raised a hand, pointing to the one across the hall. Remy moved over and opened the door, flipping the switch to turn the light on. "Go on and get comfortable, cher. I'll come and get y' in de morning when it's time fo' breakfast."
"Thanks." Spencer stepped inside the room, taking a look around. It was a simple room with a closet, a dresser, a bed, and a large window with a window seat. There was also a desk off to one side. He couldn't believe the luxury in here. This was better than anywhere he'd stayed so far. Even better than the hotels he'd stayed at with his last assignment. He couldn't help but look around him and smile. This room was really his? Unsure, he slanted a look to Remy who was watching him from the doorway still. "You sure this is for me?" he couldn't help asking. Honestly, he'd expected somewhere quite different for a 'thing' like him. Then again, they don't know what you are. They only know what you've let them see so far.
The answering grin Remy gave him was both kind and amused. "Remy had de same thoughts when he first came. Dis, if y' want it, is y'rs, homme." With a final wink, he told him "Sleep well" and left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Being alone gave Spencer the freedom to relax a little. He dropped his bag on the ground and looked around him. "Well, Spencer, you landed yourself a fine one." He murmured to himself. The he let out a soft laugh. Maybe this assignment wasn't going to be too bad.
Out in the hallway, Remy leaned against his door, feeling the current of emotions in the air. He couldn't help but smile at the door across from his as he felt the stunned joy get replaced with a happiness so pure it was almost childlike. He heard Logan come out of his room, dressed in dry clothes once more. He leaned beside Remy and looked toward the door as well right as Spencer let out a tinkling laugh that made the both of them smile. "Someone seems happy with his room." Logan rumbled.
Remy flashed his friend a grin. "Oui. Stunned him when I told him it was his. Dat homme aint used to t'ings dis nice, I'm t'inking."
"Kind of like a certain Cajun when he first came here." Bumping their elbows, Logan chuckled. "You kept looking for the poison you were sure was hidden somewhere in all this."
"Know better now, me. Dis one, though….Merde, Logan. He's hard t' read. Some of dem emotions come through loud and clear and others he makes disappear or dey murky, like he's shielding dem but de shields is failing a little."
That had Logan looking at him with surprise. "You think he's an empath, too?"
"Could be. Wouldn't surprise me." It would make sense. Remy probed, feeling the emotions in the other room change, slowly shutting down behind what he was positive was a shield. That was the only thing he could think of that could make them vanish so completely. No one was emotionless. "Either dat or someone taught him how t' shield his emotions. But he seemed sensitive to emotions around him. Flinching back when y' got defensive, even afore he looked up at y'. I don't know what it is, cher, mais dere's something about this boy."
"You don't trust him, do you?"
Remy finally looked at Logan once more and he was grinning again. "Dis Cajun don't trust no one he don't know, cher. Especially strangers dat turn up in de middle of de night. But I t'ink I might like him. People around here, dey aint gonna take to him to well. We gonna have to keep our eye on dis one. Y' see de way he dress? De way he call us all 'honey'?"
"Yeah, I caught that." Sighing, Logan scratched his head. He'd seen it just the same as Remy had and recognized the act for what it was—an act. One that quite a few street kids learned how to do. "I put plenty of people in their place who thought they could call you a whore. I'm not gonna be shy about doing it for him, either."
The smile Remy wore now was slightly gentle. He put his hand on Logan's arm, silently sharing the brotherly love he felt for the man who had terrified him when he had first come and somehow had ended up being one of his best friends. The feral smiled back at him before they separated and went into their rooms, each wondering about their newest resident.