Chapter twenty-one: The Walls Come Down
There certainly were perks to being a Level Seven mutant with every conceivable ability ever catalogued, Ultra thought as she stirred the scrambled eggs in the pan while mentally turning over the bacon rashers and sausages that currently resided under the grill. Tomatoes charred on the griddle while baked beans bubbled in the pan next to the eggs, and that didn't count the pancakes that kept jumping out of their pans like Mexican beans. Chocolate croissants baked happily in the ovens right next to a tin containing a rising loaf of bread.
The kitchen was a hub of activity. It was only seven-thirty in the morning but already more than half of the institute's students were milling around, grabbing plates and filling up on the various breakfast options that were already cooked. Storm, Scott and Jean oversaw the activity, supervising the kids and keeping them on task so that they weren't late for their lessons but, of course, even they had their limits. Jimmy and Carlos, two second years, were fighting over the scrambled eggs, Carlos very loudly arguing that fried eggs were by far the best eggs ever served. Jimmy, however, piled his plate high with the scrambled while declaring at the top of his lungs that he would gladly make love to them if it was physical possible.
Purely for the sake of something to do, Ultra picked up a wooden spoon and stirred something. Seconds later she had to duck as a pile of rocks flew at her head. They crashed into the stainless steel splash guard and scattered in every direction.
"Hey!" she shrieked, whipping round to glare at the boys but they weren't paying attention to her. "I'm cooking here!"
Considering their declaration of eggy love, two plates lay discarded on the sideboard as the two boys started an epic power battle. Jimmy was the rock flinger, summoning streams of varying sized missiles which he flung at Carlos, who was a rather skilled ducker. Considering how busy the room had been moments before, the boys had completed cleared it in a few seconds as soon as war was declared. Poor Carlos had to resort to hiding behind a lap tray as Jimmy howled with laughter, throwing rock after rock.
"This isn't fair, dude!" Carlos yelped, doing his best to deflect the onslaught. He sounded distressed but Ultra could plainly see the smile on his and Jimmy's faces. The mano-a-mano would have been more impressive had Carlos possessed a projection ability but the poor guy could only turn himself invisible, and only after a great deal of concentration.
When their little duel threatened to derail the whole breakfast spread, Ultra stood up and conjured fields around each of them, isolating them from one another. She squeezed them a little tighter to get their attention.
"Ultra! No fair!" Jimmy exclaimed, beating his fists against the invisible wall around him.
"Respect the cooking process boys, and get out!" she exclaimed, levitating them out the door before releasing them. "Take it outside!"
"Those guys drive me crazy," Linnie Charleston muttered, tapping a clawed fingernail against the work surface. "Croissant, please."
Ultra nodded and handed over a pastry from the basket nearby.
"You know, this is actually really nice."
"What is, Linnie?" she asked.
"Seeing you doing all this." Linnie gestured to the sizeable spread that was enough to feed the entire student body of the institute twice over. "You were so serious before, we didn't think you cared about us. This is a nice turnaround."
Ultra felt a wave of guilt break over her, starting at her head and working right down to her toes. Linnie was like the oracle of the house. From her golden blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that were flecked with candy pink at the centre, she looked positively angelic, especially when you added her penchant for floaty clothes that always gave her the illusion of flight. But she was plagued with the mutant ability of perception. It didn't sound like much when you described it as such but Linnie could see the truth in any situation, which Ultra found very threatening. Seeing the truth also gave her the uncanny trait of foreseeing future events.
"Well, thanks Linnie," Ultra replied after a hard swallow. Linnie regarded her for a moment and then nodded with a smile that was a little too knowing. Then she took her breakfast away with her, probably out into the garden where she usually chose to eat. Too many people in one place usually bothered her. Ultra smiled to herself. After all, she could relate to that all too well.
As the hands on the clock ticked closer to nine, the herd in the kitchen thinned until only Logan remained, hidden behind a newspaper with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Ultra could see the steam drifting up and over the paper. She picked up the plate with his bacon sandwich and carried it over to him. He grunted his thanks as she gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. An article about some freak events at an abandoned warehouse caught her attention for a moment, especially when it turned out to be the same abandoned warehouse that had been the epicentre of their mutant scuffles a few days ago. Then her gaze drifted out the window to where Rogue and Bobby were walking across the pristinely landscaped gardens. There was a lightness about Rogue, not just because of the sunshine basking over her. Her aura was practically radiating, contentment oozing from every pore. Ultra couldn't help a smile as she watched them. Leather gloves still kept their skin apart as they held hands but for the briefest of moments, she watched as Rogue stood up on her tiptoes and pecked her boyfriend on the lips.
The contact lasted the smallest measure of a moment but the triumph that Ultra felt surged within her. There hadn't been the tiniest flinch from Bobby and neither did he seem depleted from the kiss. The beam that lit up Rogue's face was worth the teenage tantrum that Ultra had had to withstand during their first session. After years of trying to gain some control over her powers, just one intensive session had given Rogue just enough to be able to experience some intimacy with her devoted boyfriend. It was about bloody time. Of course, they had a longer battle to fight before a serious snog-fest would be on the cards but the time would come.
"I saw that," Logan growled, his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.
Ultra grinned and gave him a playful nudge with her hip. "Quiet, you."
"Ultra feels at home, Ultra feels at home," he chided in a sing-song voice. "The ice queen is thawing, the ice queen is thawing."
"And you're going to get a slap if you carry on," she replied, moving back to the kitchen area where she arranged a tray with a plate of hot eggs Benedict and an English-style teapot with cup, saucer and creamer full of milk. "Eat your breakfast."
"You know I don't normally eat anything."
"Well you're going to make an exception considering your dear, devoted sister has gone to the extreme effort of preparing something for you."
By way of an answer, Logan flapped the paper and bent his head to scrutinise the article that had caught her eye. "Cops are investigating the warehouse to try and figure out what happened there."
"Huh, good luck with that," Ultra answered with a snort.
"What did you do with the bodies?"
"Turned them to lead and blasted them into the ocean." It was a deadpan answer as if she had described her hanging the washing out. "I'll focus on laying some mojo over the block that'll tell the cops exactly what they want to know."
"Mind control?" Logan asked, frowning at her.
"The one and only. It's the most efficient means of evading prying eyes, don't you think." With that, she left the kitchen, levitating the breakfast tray along behind her.
Charles' personal chambers were on the third floor of the institute. Rather than take the scenic route up the sweeping staircases and down seemingly endless corridors, Ultra stopped mid-stride and floated up through the air, phasing through the separate floors with the tray close behind. She materialised outside an ornate oak door covered in intricate engravings. She raised her fist and knocked gently.
The voice that answered her was soft and gentle, inviting her in. She opened the door wide and stepped back to allow the tray to pass her by. For a moment she reflected on how strange she felt, knocking at a door and waiting for permission. She hadn't cared about decorum and etiquette for so long that to suddenly conform was almost alien.
He wasn't there when she went in but there was movement in the next room so he was probably getting ready.
Charles' suite was stunning, reflecting the regal English gent that he was. The top half of his walls were papered in a beautiful pale brown with a contrasting embossed pattern that shimmered depending on how the light hit it. Intricately carved coving softened the edges between the walls and ceiling, culminating in beautiful plaster ceiling roses around the light fixtures. White wood panelling adorned the bottom third of the walls, bringing the room in closer so that it almost hugged you. The elegant antique furniture all mismatched but managed to coordinate with one another by sheer luck rather than design; a Victorian-styled sofa and several Louis XV wing chairs sat in cahoots, all reupholstered in modern fabrics that complimented the morning-coffee hew of the room. A dark wood replica apothecary table served as neutral ground between the sofa and chairs, a vase of fresh, home-grown roses in the centre. Ultra directed the tray down onto the table, picking up the vase and transferring it to Charles' desk.
Just for a moment, she traced her fingers over the writing implements, especially the fancy pen set and his hand-carved writing box. The scent of expensive stationery and fountain pen ink hung over the desk, instantly making her want to create something; a novel, a sonnet or even a haiku. Then she thought back to the notebook that she had hurled down the corridor. She heaved a sigh, realising how petulant she must have seemed.
The double doors to her right swung open and Charles rolled inside, dressed in a tasteful satin smoker's jacket. As she moved over to the sitting area, it felt like she was right back in England about to address the Lord of the manor.
"Good morning, my dear," he greeted her warmly, manoeuvring his wheelchair expertly between the furniture.
Ultra cleared her throat, suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable. Since rescuing him from Magneto's clutches and bringing him out of his own mind, she didn't quite know how to act around him. Delving around in someone else's head always made her feel like she had violated them in some way, especially given the connection that the two of them had formed during that time. It was difficult to avoid learning how someone felt about you when you were swimming around, constantly rubbing up to different fragments of information. During his forced recovery in the institute's sick bay under Jean Grey's watchful eye, Ultra and Charles had talked a lot of things through but that didn't alleviate the awkwardness.
"So how's the invalid today?" As soon as the words had left her mouth, Ultra hissed, wishing she could retract them. "Sorry Charles, I didn't mean..."
The old man chuckled, one hand raised. "I know, I know," he said. "It's fine."
Cue more throat-clearing on her part. "Er...I thought I'd make you some breakfast. Typically English, I suppose. I think I might have overdone it." She gestured to the tea service as Charles helped himself.
"Actually, it's rather nice to have someone in the house who appreciates the power of a good cup of tea," he mused. "Eggs Benedict."
"Yeah, I kind of got the message that it's your favourite." Yeah, when I was poking around your head looking for you.
"Well, thank you," Charles said, the smile never wavering.
"How are you feeling?" As she met his eyes, Ultra remembered the deathly pallor and how, even when she had brought him out of unconsciousness, he had needed several days to recover from the ordeal. She had stayed by his side in the sick bay, not daring to leave him.
"Much better," Charles replied, sipping daintily at his cup. "You?"
She shrugged as she sat in one of the deceptively comfortable wing chairs. "No harm done."
He regarded her for a moment with a critical eye as he put his cup and saucer down on the table. He picked up the plate with his eggs Benedict and began breaking into it, carving through the thick, crusty toast and bacon. "You know that I'm psychic," he muttered.
Ultra smiled, twisting her fingers together in her lap and avoiding his gaze. "What do you know, I am too."
"You took too much of a risk coming to rescue me," he said, suddenly very serious. "I told you to stay home because I knew what Eric wanted."
She shrugged. "In all fairness, the message was quite garbled at the end. All I got was 'gather the...' and 'don't'. The fact that I knew precisely what you meant is irrelevant."
"But he could have killed you."
"That wasn't the plan," she answered. "He'd heard whispers about a Level Seven and he wanted to check things out for himself. Let's face it; he doesn't really want any mutant more powerful than him on the opposing team. Now he knows that this particular Level Seven is a force to be reckoned with."
"But it was reckless of you to come to my aid. I'm extremely grateful but I absolutely did not want you to be put at risk."
Ultra smiled not unkindly. "My whole life is a risk," She said. "Every time someone learns how much power I have, they try and manipulate me to their own ends. To fight is all I've known. It was just nice to have something to fight for this time."
"You do seem to have reached some sort of peace within yourself."
She shrugged again. "Peace is too strong a word, I suppose. I don't think I'll ever be completely at peace with who and what I am. I can't afford to get complacent."
"I've tried to create a safe space for you here so that you can live and flourish," Charles said. "If I'd realised that it took my being kidnapped to get you to open up then I would have tried it sooner."
Ultra sniffed her amusement. "I have almost torn myself in two about living here," she said. "You see, imagine being cast off by the very people that sired you and vowed to protect you just because you were different. I was forced to transition alone, having to figure out how to control the myriad of powers that chose to manifest all at once. I was very vulnerable then and was desperate for friends. I found someone and became the object of amusement. Exploitation became a watch-word. When I eventually got away, I found myself in the company of a radical activist group that tolerated me more because of my abilities than any personal feelings. I was their trump card that could tip the balance in their favour. I was never respected, only feared. I was very aware of the fact that the second I had outlived my usefulness I was gone. Then I was thrown into the path of William Stryker and was forced to endure more abuse. The end result of that is obvious. When he couldn't control me, he was going to kill me despite the investment I represent to this day. Then I came here. For the past few months I have been waiting for the expiration date to appear. I have tested every boundary possible to try and speed up the process, to force your hand. You have treated me with nothing but respect. After all the things I've been through, to be respected is a lot more harrowing a prospect than to be feared or hunted. It has been easier to shut myself off from everyone around me in order to protect myself. I know this hasn't been fair on you after everything you've done and everything you've put up with from me but this is the only way I know how to be."
"You feel very deeply, Ultra. I knew that the moment I met you, the same as I knew that the harsh exterior you had fortified was not your true self. Once I learned of your adamantium I had some idea of the ordeal you had been through because of what I have glimpsed in Logan's mind. I knew that one day you would open up to me. Thank you."
Ultra shrugged and swallowed hard against the guilty tears that stung her eyes. She regretted every bitchy moment and snide comment and if she could go back and change everything she would. "Logan is the only one I felt I could connect with because we share the same experiences. He doesn't know the ins and outs but there's that familiarity."
"You are very alike in many ways," Charles thought out loud. "It is very easy to think of you both as siblings."
"He's my brother to the end," she replied. "Which opened up a whole other facet, if I'm honest. Even though I am so powerful, he still wants to protect me. When we were looking for you in that warehouse, he wouldn't let me pair with any other person. I've never had that before. I've never known what it's like to have someone looking out for you and watching your back, no matter what."
"You have a whole institute of people that will do that," Charles said, putting down his empty plate. He stretched forwards to take her hand in his. "Even though you tried to close yourself off from us, everyone in this school would have defended you to the end. Not because you are such an asset but because you are loved. I tried to get you to believe that once before."
"I didn't want to hear it," said Ultra.
"We all had an idea of what you'd been through but we all wanted to help. I knew that we only could once you decided to let us. I somehow think that decision has been made."
"I don't really need help, as such. I suppose all I need is support. I need to do something now. I'm sick of running or plotting or hiding. Yes, the Freedom Fighters were striving towards a noble goal but I was just a tool in their plans. I was never a part of it. Now I want to belong to something. I've got a lot to give."
Charles smiled. "I know. I've never seen Rogue look so happy before."
"I saw the paralysing fear in her face that day in the warehouse when I told her to power up. No one should have to live their lives that way. I've known what it's like to be afraid of my powers and I don't want anyone to have to go through that. Hopefully one day she won't have to be scared anymore."
"I tried to help her but I kept hitting a blockage. Rogue can be very stubborn, especially when she doesn't think something is working."
"I noticed. She tried playing the 'you don't know what it's like' card, but she is still a teenager after all. I proved that I know what I'm doing and with time I think she'll be pleased with the results. I just hope she doesn't take my 'play around' message too far."
Charles shook his head. "She won't. She will accept the advice but she's lived with too much caution and restraint to just let it all go now. She'll keep her head, of that I'm sure."
"Well, it looks like you're getting your wish after all."
"What wish is that?" he asked, frowning.
"My staying on and helping train the kiddies."
"All I wish is for you to be happy, Ultra," he replied. "I want you to find something that you love to do."
She thought for a moment, wondering what could possibly make her happy after so much misery. It was going to be a struggle. Then she remembered lurking outside Jean Grey's classroom with her notebook and pencil, practically crushing her face against the glass. For the first time in forever she had been able to escape her own head. She knew that she had a very analytical mind and turning it to scientific problems seemed a fitting focal point for her energies. Ultra had always possessed a curiosity about the nature of genetic mutations, from something as benign as eye colour to the life-altering abilities that she shared with her fellows. If there was one genetic cause, why did the abilities differ to such a vast extent? If the cause could be identified, could there one day be a cure? What kind of moral and ethical problems would such a cure inflame? She wanted to be able to answer those questions and many more.
Charles' smile broadened as he watched the cogs turning in her head. No doubt he could hear her thoughts, for they screamed so loudly in her head that he must be able to.
"It seems like you've made your decision," he said.
Ultra nodded slowly at first and then as the idea solidified in her mind the nod increased. "I think I have."
Charles rolled over to his desk and opened one of the side drawers, taking something out that he put on his lap. He turned back to face her, holding out the notebook that she had thrown away. She had been angry at herself for showing weakness that day, for allowing them to find out about her secret aspirations. Now it felt like a rite of passage as she looked at the blue notebook held tightly in Charles' fist. She looked first at the book and then at him. His expression was completely open, even slightly excited. They both knew that together they could change the world and this was their first step.
Charles bowed his head at her. "Shall we get started?"