Tara knocked on the door, her hand shaking a little. She'd run into her cousin on the way out of her class on Medieval British Literature, and well… it had been ugly. Beth had said so many hurtful things, so many things about tainted blood, and accusing Tara of shirking her responsibilities… It had brought tears to her eyes. But she wouldn't go back. She couldn't go back to that life, to being the sliver of a person that she'd been then.
Maybe Jean could tell her more about this Xavier's School that they taught at? Maybe that school would be good for her. Especially if her father didn't know where she'd gone… And Jean had said that they learned control, that it was okay to be able to do different things there. It sounded good, almost too good.
"Tara?" Jean's voice had a slight questioning sound as she opened the door. "Scott and Buffy are talking to Joyce…"
"That's alright…" She could feel herself blushing. "I had some questions about your school. You could help with answers, right? And Scott's… sort of intimidating."
"Scott? Intimidating? Well…" Jean blinked and shook her head; as if to say that she really didn't see him that way at all. "I can help answer some of your questions. You finished with your class? I seem to recall that you, Willow, and Buffy were attending classes at the college."
"My class is over for today." Tara nodded, reminding herself not to stare at Jean's breasts, no matter how nice they looked in the little red sweater. Eye contact. "So, umm… how many students are there? What all do you offer classes in?"
Jean smiled as she walked into the kitchen. She picked up a cup of coffee, wincing as Scott's voice carried clearly from else where.
"Because he's dangerous! Aunt Joyce, he's…"
Tara looked at the wall closest to the voice. "Do I want to know?"
"Apparently, Mrs. Summers has a date with someone that we've… well, we met him under unpleasant circumstances." Jean had the too careful phrasing that said she didn't like it but was trying to be fair about the situation. "Buffy and Scott are trying to object."
Tara just looked away, her fingers tracing over the wood grain of the tabletop. "Oh. So… ummm… Is the school far away?"
"New York state." Jean smiled, clearly thinking about something enjoyable. "We're set back from the road, not quite in any of the towns, and there's a lot of private ground. The property is mostly enclosed by a wall, except for the lake boundary. It's quite lovely. Right now, there are about two hundred students, of varying ages. We try to make sure that we cover everything that a normal elementary and high school would, and we have some other classes, depending on the specialties of some of the previous students. We can cover physics, medicine, meteorology, a little about electronics…"
"How do you determine who studies what?" Tara asked, feeling more curious.
"Well, a certain level of the basics is required. But… well, if one ten year old is ready to start algebra and another isn't, they don't both start it at the same time. With small class sizes, we can personalize the classes a bit more. And Kitty's studying physics, which I could never quite wrap my head around… She's only fifteen." Jean sighed, sipping at her coffee again. "The professor does try to encourage everyone to take some specialized classes that have to do with your mutation, if that would work. Like art classes for one of the students who can make illusions or geometry for Scott, when he was a student."
"It sounds like it would be a nice school." Tara offered. "Jean? Can you…. Do you believe in magic?"
"Magic?" Jean repeated, looking thoughtful. "I thought that most things being called magic were mutant activity, or meditation? Maybe a bit too much of certain pharmaceuticals…
Tara tried to smile, feeling very nervous inside. "It's real. I can do a little… I started with scrying spells, which are really close to what my visions do. If I use a spell, someone else can see what I can. Maybe we… well, if you and I work together, maybe we can find the other mutants you were looking for? I'd need you to picture the people."
For a few moments, Jean was quiet, and then asked a simple question. "Why don't I just make a temporary mind-link, and then you can use your clairvoyance to try to find the people?"
Tara thought about that, wondering how likely it would be that Jean would discover that she found her very attractive. But if Jean was a telepath, surely she'd had far worse than seeing or hearing that someone else thought she was attractive, right? She couldn't think of any reason other than her own possible embarrassment to object, and so she nodded, "That should work."
Closing her eyes, Tara waited for Jean to touch her mind and give the images of the people that they were looking for. She felt something, like the crackling flare of a fire, and something like honey, and she could feel Jean in her mind. An image of a young man with dark hair wearing jeans and a letter jacket appeared. Tara focused on the image, and let loose of the corner of her mind, shaping the question – where is he now?
Images flickered, stabilizing on the same young man, no longer wearing the letter jacket. He was bending over a car engine, tools beside him, grease streaking his hands and forearms as he did… something to it. He looked healthy, and not half bad… Tara realized that not only was Jean firmly heterosexual but that her admiring thoughts for the young man were spilling over into Tara's mind. Tara tried to pull the image back, wanting to see more than the inside of a garage. It was a pale yellow house with a dry yard and a weedy flowerbed with some bright red and orange mums blooming in the front. The house had dulled brass numbers on the porch – 692.
"Got it…" Jean's voice was doubled, echoing in her ears and her mind at the same moment. Then another image formed, of a young woman with blond hair, torn jeans, and a ring in her eyebrow and another in her nose. "This is the second one."
Tara focused n the girl, who was sort of pretty in a tough-girl sort of way. Where are you… An image formed, the girl pressed against a brick wall, string across the street at a brown sedan. A man in a suit was leaning out of the driver's side, talking to someone, possibly asking for directions. The young woman was clearly terrified by this, certain that 'they' were looking for her again/still. The intensity of it distracted Jean, and the link broke.
Tara blinked, grabbing at her head. It hurt, and she could still feel the intensity of the young woman's emotions… "That was weird. She's right d-down the street from the Espresso Pump. Maybe we… you… someone should go get her? Before the other people find her first?"
"You're right, I think we should. I'm not sure who's trying to find her, but she's terrified of them." Jean's voice was soft as she rubbed her head. "I'll just go get Scott."
End 31.
Forrest Gates sat on a couch, a history book spread out in front of him, a notebook on his lap. He looked as if he was working on a history report, and he'd actually intended to do just that. But he couldn't focus on the French Revolution when his mind kept turning over the latest rumors and discoveries. The Initiative told them to watch for what had to be a mutant, except that this 'inexplicably strong female that looks like a normal human woman' might be Buffy. The government had files about mutants. The Initiative… They'd probably do the same sort of tests and experiments on a mutant as they would on a hostile, a demon.
He'd managed to convince himself that the research on the demons was okay, that it was to make America safer, that it wasn't really a bad thing. That it was okay that the HST's brought in often ended up dead, or vanished. He'd never wondered what happened to them, and he'd managed to prevent himself from thinking about the chance that they could have been mutants. He'd stopped himself from thinking.
That should have set off warning bells right there. If you have to stop thinking about something to go through with it, something's wrong. Following orders wasn't enough of an excuse – the workers at the Nazi concentration camps had 'just been following orders'. Prisoners of war had been illegally executed by people 'just following orders'. It didn't make them less guilty, didn't make him less guilty. He couldn't even say that he didn't really know bad things were happening.
Was what the Initiative doing right? Was it even a good idea? Forrest wasn't certain anymore. The only thing that he was certain about was that he had to think about this, had to come to a decision on where he stood. For that, he'd need more information about what was really going on in the Initiative, what their real goals were. No more blindly following orders, no more casual listening to rumors - it was time for facts.
Putting the books away, he made his way down to the labs. He just wished that he didn't have such a bad feeling about the answers that he might find.
Willow closed another browser window and sighed. She'd found some information on Irene Adler, but none of it told her why a shape shifting mutant with ties to at least one scary person willing to ignore the rules would be interested. Of course, it was a bit interesting that the woman in question, while old, might still be alive. She had been as of a census taken three years ago, and living in a nice little retirement community in Texas.
Of course, it would help if she knew what she was looking for. Irene Adler was a blind old lady, a former stock market advisor, a former painter who'd never made it big, and a widowed mother of a little girl who'd apparently taken in an orphan, back in the days when the rich could do just about anything with few questions. A thin, quiet girl called Raven, who'd appeared in only one picture that Willow had been able to find.
Maybe she'd have better luck trying to find a hidden military demon hunting group in Sunnydale. They'd need to be hooked into the local power and water systems, so if she started there, she should be able to find something. She knew more or less what she was looking for – a large area for unreported and probably underground research, storage of equipment, confinement of prisoners, and the paperwork and records that would go along with all of that. No wonder it was underground.
Where would a secret underground base go in Sunnydale? It couldn't be under the old high school, that was where the Hellmouth and the Master's cavern would be, and they'd have noticed anything going on there. It couldn't be under the Magic Box, there were too many sewer tunnels and that larger area that they had to clean out every two months – the baddies kept thinking it made a perfect lair. It wouldn't keep getting infested if there was a group of demon hunters right beside it, and they'd gone down there just last month to get rid of a pack of ghouls. Too close to the ocean and they'd have water issues. Too far in the trees to the west and they'd be having earthquake issues, unless all those tremors over the last spring and summer had been from secret construction. They'd want a good, central location so that they could move quickly to any of the surrounding areas…
Willow pulled out a map of Sunnydale, with the graveyards and ritual hotspots already highlighted, and crossed out the place where the high school rubble still stood. She drew some lines through the land closest to the beach, where even normal basements ran into the water table. She crossed out the area near the Magic Box. Now, where would be a good central location?
Her eyes fell to the college campus almost in the middle of the town. A central location, with plenty of open spaces where there could be hidden access points. Plenty of frat houses where soldiers in disguise could be hidden in plain sight. Site of so many pledge pranks and drunken parties that nobody took things very seriously. There were four different road connections to get off campus. It would be perfect.
Oh no.
End part 32.
Joyce drove up to the hotel, feeling a bit nervous. She'd said that she might as well pick up Vic for their lunch date, considering that his hotel was on the way to the restaurant, and it had made a great deal of sense. It still made sense. But it had been a long time since she'd really dated, and, well, she was nervous. And what sort of 'something hellmouthy' had been interfering this time?
A door opened, and he stood there, a solid shape against the grey building. He looked around, and spotted her, nodding as he started to walk closer. "Joyce."
"Vic." She could feel herself blushing. "So, what happened?"
He opened the door, scrunching a bit as he sat down, making an unhappy noise as he moved the seat as far back as it would possibly go. "There's soldiers – men in camouflage and uniforms, at least. They're grabbing people. Vampires, probably demons… They stunned me, and I woke up in a concrete cell. I don't know who's giving the orders, or what they want."
Joyce felt a cold prickling run down her spine. "That's… terrible. I don't even know if I want to guess… When I was in college, years ago, there was a project about ESP, and one of the volunteers… she just vanished, and we never found out what happened. If she dropped out, or ran away, or…"
"Or if she died." His rumble was full of distrust for such projects.
"Or died." Joyce agreed, her voice low. "I wasn't expecting anything like this. I just thought… I wanted to try lunch."
"Are you nervous because of the soldiers, or me?" He asked, sounding almost regretful.
"Yes." Joyce said, and then sighed. "I'm worried about what the soldiers are up to. I'm afraid Buffy will get hurt trying to stop them, or that the danger will spread and more people will get hurt. And I haven't really dated anybody in a long time."
For a moment, he blinked, and then a smile spread across his face. "If that's all you're worried about…" He leaned closer, and whispered, "I haven't done too much dating lately either."
She giggled. It was almost embarrassing, but there was no other word for the sound – it was a giggle. "Hopefully, we can manage to have a nice lunch. We go in, we order food, they cook it, we eat it and try to talk some…"
"Yeah." He nodded, "That's a nice, simple plan."
She wasn't certain if her stomach was fluttering from anticipation or nerves as they stepped out of the car at the restaurant. Joyce smiled, and took Vic's arm, walking together towards the door. She just hoped their nice, simple plan didn't end up with unexpected complications.
Scott tried not to frown as Jean dragged him out the door. They'd managed to get a rental car, a rather alarmingly noisy dark vehicle that Jean assured him was brown. Tara had arrived earlier, just missing Aunt Joyce as she left for her date, and they'd talked for a while. "What's the rush?"
"One of the mutants is near the coffee house. She's terrified that 'they' – meaning men in suits – have found her again. She's certain that she's in mortal danger." Jean spoke, fishing out the keys and glaring at the car, as if daring it not to start. "We're going to go get her before they do."
"What does she look like?" Scott sighed, remembering the initial idea. Sunnydale, a small beach town in California. It should have been simple and relaxing. Demons were real, his cousin hunted vampires, Mystique was here, there were soldiers doing something, and now a mutant convinced her lie was in danger. This was getting less simple the longer they stayed.
"She's got blond hair, sort of streaky. A piercing on her left eyebrow, another on her lip, and a whole line up her ear. She's dressed… well, normal. Ripped jeans, a worn shirt, a jacket…" Jena shrugged, and left the driveway. "She's maybe a bit younger than Buffy."
Scott swallowed, and nodded. This wouldn't be the first time that they'd had to save a mutant from danger, but he still worried that something would go wrong. That this time, they'd be too late.
He didn't chide Jean about zipping through the yellow lights, or the way she ended up straddling a parking line in the little lot. He could feel himself tensing as they moved out of the car, and watched Jean carefully. The description was general enough that it fit half a dozen people that he could see right now – fair hair, torn jeans, maybe pierced. Was that why she had done it, to blend in? And if so, was it for fashion, or camouflage of a different sort?
Jean walked into the store, smiling as she slid into a booth. The girl sitting there looked up, her expression flickering through alarm and confusion before settling on a bland half smile. It was so quick that he'd almost missed it, and only barely managed to nod as the girl lifted her mug of coffee.
"Pity about the car dying on you." Jean said, as if picking up a conversation. "But we can give you a lift back to the beach."
"Thanks. I promised that I'd be there for lunch, you know?" Her voice was soft, but carried no trace of the California accent that seemed so prevalent.
Scott tried not to frown out the window. An uncannily unremarkable car, containing two men in suits was now pulling away, the passenger side man fumbling with something. A microphone? A camera? The road… should take them towards the beach, he realized. They'd been spying, trying to find a time and place to grab the girl.
Jean sat back up, tossing a few dollars on the table. "Come on, the car's outside. You can come with us."
The girl hesitated for a moment, and then nodded, leaving the now empty cup on the table. "I guess. Not like I have too many other options."
"We want to help you." Jean said, her voice soft as she lead the way back to the rental.
"Even though you don't know…" The girl cut off her words, and took a deep breath. "Why?"
"You're a mutant." Jean's voice was soft, and she glanced at the girl as she slid into the passenger seat. "We're from a school that can help you."
"We're also mutants." Scott spoke, hoping to ease her fears. "We learn control, so we don't accidentally hurt people with our abilities."
"What do you do?" The girl asked, twisting to look at him.
"I… I guess you could just call them eye-beams." He sighed, for a moment wishing there was a nice, simple, impressive sounding description. "Unfortunately, I can't quite control them without the glasses."
"And you?" She looked at Jean, her body slightly less tense.
"Telekinesis." Jean smiled, and then added, "And some telepathic abilities."
"Oh." The girl was quiet for about a block, and then whispered, "Where did yours come from?"
Scott shrugged. "We don't know. Sometimes people are just born different. What… um, what do you want us to call you?"
"I'm Charlie, and I light fires." Her voice was soft, and she looked up, her eyes pained. "My parents were in some study, back before I was born. It apparently did something, and changed them. Then, they had me…"
"And they wanted to know what you could do." Scott finished, feeling like his stomach had just dropped out. He'd wondered when the next complication in this mess would hit. This sounded just about… well, just as dangerous and confusing as everything else.
"Yeah, and if they could control me." Her words were bitter. "They've been chasing us… me for years. They've killed both my parents now."
"We'll try to keep you safe, Charlie." Jean promised.
Scott just hoped they'd be able to keep that promise. The government… Hopefully, it wasn't connected to the soldiers. That would just be a bit too much.
End part 33.