"What's it like to be this rich?" Mac wonders, looking around her.

"I don't know, but I'm scared to touch anything," Ana mumbles, her hands folded in her lap and her posture stiff.

The office they are in is roughly the same size as both the kitchen and den in the apartment they left behind, furnished with rich stained woods and the kind of furniture one sees in movie depictions, not in real life. There are books and papers spread about, but in an orderly way. Their pristine bindings and hardcovers are used, but not shredded like the worn college textbooks that Ana sometimes picks up from second-hand stores. There's no faded spots or stains anywhere, making her think that this is the kind of fancy where you use coasters and shit. It's more like a museum diorama than real to her, and the Degas painting on the wall that she's pretty certain is the genuine article adds to that.

So, yah. Mac kind of doesn't want to touch anything either. Forget about not having insurance; she feels like if she lingers too long in one place the property value will go down or something. Some haughty asshole is gonna step around the corner and ramble off about how much they owe for a being rescued from the Canadian wilderness. Next thing you know, it'll be serfdom for the both of them, a long life of working off their debts in a labor camp.

If she had ever imagined a secret boarding school for mutants hidden in New York State, this would not have been it.

"Did you see-?" Mac asks, jerking her head to the window. Ana nods almost imperceptibly.

"They're weird," she mutters, glancing in that direction as well.

The mechanic looking guy led them up from the maybe-hospital standing in the corner of the office glares at them. Mac's gonna let that slide, if only because she's a bit wary of mutants after this, and they weren't referring to the obvious mutations some of the kids outside are sporting. Well, mostly. It's not the spikes one kid is growing out of his skin that bothers her, or the little girl with oddly tinged skin. It's the fact that they all seem...what's the word?

Clean. Well mannered and sort of Disney-esque.

It's disquieting. Mac doesn't have a prerequisite for dealing with this.

Assholes, yes. Fancy ass rich people and happy kids? Not really.

Ana looks back to her, face blank. Her eyes are searching and somewhat empty, the swell of emotion that was evident in the forest muted and barely lingering. Mac tilts her head to the side the slightest bit, trying to convey that it's going to be alright. That Mac isn't angry.

Ana tilts her chin down in recognition, but her hands grasp a little too tightly where they join together in her lap, bandaged fingers pressing hard. Her own scraped up palms twinge in sympathy.

The door opens behind them, and Mac jumps a bit in her seat, her heart racing. Only after a second does she realize it was a bit of an overreaction.

"You girls have been through quite the trial," says a calming, gentle voice. Mac can literally hear how cultured this guy is.

She turns to look and she sees not one, but two people stepping in. One man, bald and kind looking as he presses his wheelchair forward followed by what Mac might qualify as an actual model. Mac has seen quite a few well-formed people in her time, but the woman behind baldy is a stunner. Striking white hair and unblemished skin, paired with eyes that promise that she takes no shit leave make quite the figure.

"Then again, calling it a trial may be putting it lightly," he continues, wheeling his way to the desk. She turns back to realize that Ana is staring at him with wide eyes, the kind she usually reserves for Tony Stark's newest weapons release. A sort of awed, covetous gaze.

"Charles Xavier?" Ana asks, a bit stunned.

The man looks a bit amused.

"Yes," he answers.

"The geneticist who published a 'The Unified Theory of Sympatric and Parapatric Evolution Within the Human Genome?'"

"The very same."

Ana looks a little star struck, and Mac is happy for her, but she can't just let this pass. It's an excellent opportunity. She lifts her fist to her mouth and coughs into it, barely smothering the word 'nerd.'

Ana shoots her a withering glance, breaking the facade for a second. Mac grins as Ana rolls her eyes.

The kindly looking man smiles indulgently at them both, and Mac hears the sound of the door closing again, then the clack of heels as the woman with cheekbones sharp enough to cut goes to stand beside mutton chop mechanic guy. It's a little disappointing that he gives her a friendly nod, but that's probably just Mac's newly gained bias against the wildman look speaking.

It's there. She knows it's there. She'll deal with it eventually.

"Now, and-"

"Mac and Ana, please," Mac interrupts, suddenly a bit wary. She didn't say anything about their last names, and a glance at Ana's stony expression tells her that she didn't either.

Xavier nods, folding his hands on top of the desk in front of him. It's something that Mac appreciates, because if she can see them then she can make sure they are empty.

"Mac and Ana then. We are aware that there may be some confusion, and that you have likely been under some distress. The APB for you two seemed to indicate that there was coercion involved in your disappearance and upon waking seemed to indicate someone-"

Mac briefly stops listening for several reasons. The first and foremost is because her ears are buzzing. Who the fuck put out a report for them? People disappear in all the fucking time in Hunt's Point. It could have been Cage, because he's kind enough to semi-care about his employees, but he would have maybe filed a police report and that's it. If anything, there would have been a Missing Persons Report and that's it. Also, the fact that he received an APB means that there is at least some tie to the law here, and that's very alarming.

There goes the idea of playing lost hikers. This complicates the shit outta things.

"-dark implications. You were found two thousand miles away, in the Canadian wilderness with nothing more than hiking packs, unconscious near two of our teaching staff. Between the two of you, there were contusions and burns, and both of you suffered from exhaustion and dehydration. Not to mention the raging wildfire not far away," Xavier continues. He says it all with that same calming smile and genial tone, the one that's too nice.

Mac swallows dryly. That's...that's a lot to take in. She doesn't even know what to say.

"This may be a stressful question to ask at the moment, and I understand if you need time, but we were wondering perhaps if you could illuminate us to what happened," says a female voice. It's rich and stable, and almost perfectly timed out like there was some nonverbal cue for her to speak Mac missed.

Mac glances at Ana, who is looking at her. She won't talk, trusting Mac to have the words.

Usually, Mac wouldn't talk. She's not a snitch. She has her pride.

But considering just what a raging dickhead Victor is, combined with the fact Ana may have already indicated him when she woke up, she feels no remorse. She has no qualms about throwing their assailant under the bus and would probably do it literally if she could.

"Victor Creed, that's who took us," she says damningly, licking her lips. "Six foot six, I'd say. Blond hair cut short, around two hundred and seventy pounds, muscular. An utter asshole."

The mutton chops guy snorts.

"I am very sorry," Xavier says softly.

Mac ignore him. The gentleness chafes a bit, unfamiliar and strange. She forces the rest out.

"He said there was another guy, someone named Logan who had a kid. He said we would be 'better than Logan and his brat', but then called the guy Jimmy? That's why he took us to Alkali Lake, because he wanted us to impress him. Said something about a base there. He wanted to hunt us, but then there was a wild fire-" because Ana started it, can't believe that worked "-and we ran. Made it to the lake, saw a guy with a motorcycle, asked him for help. Then there was some lady coming out of the lake, and I guess whatever magic she was doing made me pass out, but I saw everyone there in your super secret future hospital, so I guessed it worked out alright."

The resulting silence is stifling. She's stuck wondering if maybe they don't believe them, that maybe they think they're crazy. Her heart beats like a drum in her chest, and she can feel preemptive indignant anger begin to swell. Mac is about to call them out when a snarl that sounds like Victor's fills the room.

Ana stands so fast her seat nearly topples behind her, eyes glued to the mechanic in the corner.

"Logan," The bald man states authoritatively, but he hasn't opened his mouth, and Mac is fairly certain she wasn't meant to hear that, especially not in her head. It's scarier somehow. Mac can feel the adrenaline begins to pump in her veins.

For fucks sake. Immortal wildmen, government spooks, kidnapping road trips, and now telepathy? To be fair, she does think the telepathy is the coolest thing yet, but still. She's not ready for this all at once. Maybe one or two things over a couple of months, over a couple of years would be preferable. It hasn't even been two weeks and it's being crammed down her throat all at once.

(Can he hear her thoughts? Fuck-)

To his credit, the man manages to wrangle his anger in. She thinks that seeing Ana watch him like she's waiting for something awful to happen might help, but she's still pissed. She thought this was a safe place.

"Well, that's one question answered," she bites out, crossing her arms across her chest.

It raises a million others though. Questions such as how the ever living fuck are they supposed to live now that they don't have jobs because they missed so many days? Since there's been an APB, and their apartment has probably been gone through, is it still there? Actually, scratch that. They don't have jobs to pay rent so it probably doesn't even matter.

Would these people even get that? They live in a big ass mansion after all. Mac's fairly sure what Mac and Ana have now is what's in the packs and the clothes on their back. Why the fuck is the mysterious Logan here? Where the fuck do they stand on things? Are they captives instead of rescued victims?

(What the fuck?! Whathefuckwhatthefuckwhatthe-?!)

"Please, everyone, calm down," Xavier intones.

Mac notices her breathing has gone fast. Her head is starting to ache from it all, pulled twenty directions at once.

She forces herself to slow it down.

"I am sorry you have endured so much," Xavier says after everyone seems to have gathered themselves, his gaze sympathetic. He looks over to Ana who stares back blankly, still standing.

"Ana," Mac says lightly. She doesn't say it's cool, but she does want Ana to know she's here.

Ana twitches awkwardly, looking over to Mac before settling back in her seat.

"This is fucked."

"Gonna second that," Huffs Logan sullenly, crossing his arms.

"Neither of you is wrong," Mac agrees.

The bald guy clears his throat, breaking up what could potentially be a fairly good skulk between the three of them. Not that Mac feels inclined to let mutton chops in on it, but they are here, they are skulking. It could have been a thing.

"I planned on offering you two sanctuary here, perhaps some time to figure things out, but I understand fully if you do not feel safe. If there is somewhere else for you two to go..."

There isn't. The way they don't answer the question probably makes that pretty obvious to everyone else in the room.

"You're just going invite us to stay here? Just like that?" Mac asks skeptically.

"Xavier's Institute is a well-known for its goodwill," The stunner in the back interjects. "You would not be the first to be in need of assistance."

Mac presses her lips together. That feels fake. This all feels very weird. They are so many reasons why this should not be.

They don't have tons of options though.

"What about Victor?"

The Irish woman turns to her friend who is still rigid in her seat. Her hands have gone back to squeezing each other in her lap, and her eyes are cold.

"What happens when Sabertooth shows back up for us?" she presses, and Mac wants to say that this time, they'll go with the eye impalement plan. Or maybe lava if they can swing it.

Before she can debate the merits of saying that aloud, somebody else is speaking up.

"No one is coming for you," Xavier tries to assure them. "You are safe here."

Mac and Ana don't even have to glance at each other. They both know that is a lie. Maybe it's just trauma, or maybe it's paranoia. Hell, it could even be regression into an old mindframe, but somehow Mac knows that Victor is coming.

Apparently, their unease is obvious.

"I cut his fucking head off," Logan says from the back, and Xavier makes a noise of concern at that.

Mac turns in her chair to look at him. He's got his arms crossed over his chest, staring at both Mac and Ana. She may not know the guy, but the look on his face tells her that's a promise.

Mac still doesn't trust it. She believes in the good of people, but she's just been through an ordeal that reminds her that everyone has their own motivations. Being allowed in on all this information, and promised a bit of safety on top of that?

She can't take that at face value anymore.


The one that introduces herself as Ororo takes them on something of a basic tour, and Ana has to concentrate on the little things in order to not bolt.

It helps that Mac understands this, up to the point where she manages to scrape up some spaghetti from wherever they feed the army of children, and is patient with Ana's hovering in her personal space the whole time they re-heat it and shove reimbursement where it once sat.

Her brain keeps telling her several things at once. The first and foremost is that Victor is coming and they have to impress him. She knows intellectually that the likelihood is slim and that there was a promise of protection, but Ana doesn't trust that pledge. Nobody can help them but themselves.

A subsection of this thought says that the logan they have been compared to is within grasp, and wouldn't it be impressive to Victor if they bested him here and now? Would that buy them leniency? Time? Would he even like it if it were possible to do somehow? Is this the Logan or do they now have to fight every Logan and child duo they come across? She's pretty sure they implied he was the right one, but...

The next thought Ana has is that there are mutants everywhere. Little fifteen-year-olds and tiny nine-year-olds with power beyond Ana's grasp, blessed by nature and science in a way that makes envy crawl in her throat and make a home there.

Many do not see Ana and Mac, as the group that brought them here seems fond of walking them down richly furnished corridors -yah, fucking corridor, not halls- while the children are otherwise occupied or distracted, but Ana can see the children. Ana can see them playing, learning, and developing with more care and skill than she can ever have.

The kids are so….so odd. So neat and nice and whole, their clothes without holes and their school dripping with luxury. Even the brooding teenagers trying to find their own place seem to care and genuinely respect the adults watching them. The petty rebellions of acting out, dying hair, talking back… these are things that are done to people the child knows it can safely express itself with. It's like a movie set, or a magazine page. It doesn't feel real.

Jealousy, hot and unjust, settles in her heart. What is she, compared to these people who can shove memories and thoughts into her head as easily as they can take them out? What is one average woman to a man like Victor, like Logan? How can she possibly stand up to these people when they could break her on accident, when the teenager she saw could walk through walls, and the boy could create illusions? What use is she?

The third thought is that someone posted an alert for them. An APB. She doesn't know for sure, but the only person she can think of is the spook. Suburban dad was no one to them, not really, but he was someone to Victor, part of a group that even that gigantic douche did not want to catch the attention of. Without the alert, would they have survived being found by this group? Would they have been picked up at all, or left to their fate? Did Mac condemn them by saving one man, and rescue them by helping another?

Too much. There's too much panic in her head. She shuts it off, lets the foggy feeling in, and drifts after Mac. She still experiences things, but far away. She refuses to come back until they are alone, eating spaghetti in an empty kitchen.

Mac notices the moment she does come back. Mac always does.

"You cool?" Mac asks after a long time gathering her thoughts.

Ana thinks about lying. Discards it.

"Not yet."

Mac nods and eats another bite. Somewhere, a child laughs and Ana's gut churns.

"What can I do to help?"

Ana wants to say there is nothing that can be done, that she'll just be stuck like this and that isn't so bad. It's a kneejerk reaction, though.

"Space," she says after a moment of thought. "Direction"

Mac nods, but Ana realizes that just because it looks like she's coping better does not mean she is. It just means that Mac has better methods than Ana or at least that methods that don't amount to 'be ghost outside of body.'

"You?"

"Setting up a watch and figuring out who put out the APB," Mac admits after a second.

Ana nods her head. She can do that. Also-

"Suburban Dad was a spook, right? And you did save him from a mugger."

Mac pauses, her fork frozen in her hand.

"Oh," she says.

Ana snorts.

"Dumbass."