On the other end of the phone, there was silence.
Taking in account, of course, that it was around three in the morning, I'd just gotten done 'sleeping' (in the loosest sense possible), and I'd just finished relating every misadventure I'd had the pleasure of having. Grace had been called away unexpectedly just after we'd met in the drive and she'd called me at eleven.
Four hours. My throat was killing me.
"I won't lie, Loki," came a tired, scratchy voice. "This story... you scare the crap out of me." A lump rose suddenly in my throat and I gagged. "But that just means you need someone who isn't gonna blow in and straight back out of your life. I love you, you big idiot. You're stuck with me."
Hiding my sob of relief as a cough, I managed to croak out a response and then wished her a good night's rest. The phone dropped from my numb fingers, and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
It was okay. She loved me. She wasn't leaving.
With this massive weight off my chest, I dropped back into sleep quicker than I could stop myself. Damn stress and all its stupid ability to tire you out. My brain is so whacked I can't even come up with a witty quip, dammit.
The nightmare that pounced was much different than what I'd been experiencing for the past... who knows how long. I certainly haven't been keeping track. I wonder if anyone does...
Back on the subject. I was in school again, except this time the place was cavernous and empty. Drifting tendrils of fog creeped around every corner. I was running; to or away from what, I didn't know. The only certainty I had was the fact I was alone: I had been, and always would be. But the teasing sounds of a female voice haunted me and I ran, ran, ran.
I woke up with a shuddering gasp, and gentle hands pressed me back into the couch. I looked around wildly; the aching loneliness speared through me and I gasped as concerned faces peered at me.
"Relax," Kurt murmured. "It was only a bad dream. No need to panic." Kitty nodded emphatically, Evan not a beat behind.
Half of me wanted to scream at them to leave me the hell alone. Unfortunately, that half was quickly squashed under the half of me that somehow remained a scared little kid, so all I ended up doing was shutting my eyes and remaining very, very still.
They helped me up and I swatted them away, rifling through my clothes and sliding into something hopefully clean. I staggered down to the kitchen, dreading the pitying looks sure to come.
But none did. Kitty instantly began pestering Scott and Jean about driving with her (how she'd gotten her permit before me, I don't know). Evan was fixing his board, mumbling something under his breath. Kurt was drinking the milk right from the carton, prompting Xavier to say something and make him jump. Rogue was scribbling a last paragraph for a homework assignment, ignoring the copious amounts of crumbs on the sheet. Miss Ororo was eating a pear at the table while Logan read the newspaper.
Normal. It was like breakfast in a really, really big family.
For the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable being where I was. Being part of this place. Being an X-Man.
"Everyone," Xavier called, gathering our attention. But instead of a big announcement, it was just a simple, "Be good in school." Very fatherly of him, I must say. I grabbed my pack and headed out, hopping in Scott's ride as he drove us to school.
Apparently, as I later discovered, the eight days I'd spent at home, helping to fix up the mansion, didn't count as my week-long probation period. Not that I'd expected it to be, it just made coming back to school that much harder.
My teachers, alternately, decided to do one of three options: ignore me, spend the entire hour glaring daggers at me, or pretend the whole mutant business was a big fat mess and treat me like blown glass. Mr. Hastings fell quite neatly into the second category, and when he passed back the worksheets we'd done a few weeks ago, I was not surprised to see a fat red zero at the top.
I'd broken my left hand that day, making writing in my normal scrawl impossible. I'd gone for my right hand - like any good schoolchild, I'd done the usual method of holding it like a caveman and going slowly. It was only a little bit messier than my regular handwriting, and when Hastings had started in on the treatment, I'd broken my pencil. So it was only half-finished and had a big black mark down the middle.
I didn't contest it. At this point, I knew Xavier basically had a bed with my name on it permanently reserved, so schoolwork wasn't as important any more.
Yay! I'm just jumping for joy.
School was over quickly, and none of my classmates said anything as I shot past, intent upon meeting with Grace. A talk with a teacher from category three had kept me from seeing her at lunch, and I was eager for some face-to-face talking.
That was, until someone tapped me on my shoulder and I completely overreacted. And by overreacted, I mean... grabbed their wrist and tossed them over my shoulder, one hand out and charging a wind bullet before I'd consciously realized what had happened.
It was no one I knew. Not by name, anyway, he had a face that was bland and easily lost in the crowd. Brown hair, light brown eyes, a surprised look on his face and a backpack clutched in his hands. All the fight drained out of me and I helped him up with my other hand, swallowing.
That was probably exactly what the Board would need to kick me out for good. Damn, I'm an idiot. Stupid freaking paranoid instincts.
"Wow!" he gushed. "That was so cool! You're like a ninja!"
I lifted one eyebrow, unable to contain myself. "Huh?"
"You're a mutant, right?" I stiffened, but nodded, and he shook my hand vigorously before waving behind him to Evan, who looked confused as he spotted me.
"How do you know Kevin?" he asked, one arm clutching his board possessively. I explained what happened in terse terms, Kevin looking back and forth at us in poorly-concealed glee.
"Walk with me?" Kevin said. I opened my mouth to say no, I wanted to spend some time with my girlfriend, but Evan just nodded and hissed,
"Xavier's all about the inter-species connections. Just shut up and follow my lead!"
I stuffed my hands in my pockets and slouched along, listening with half an ear to the one-sided conversation going on in front of me. It didn't take more than a few minutes, though, before Evan decided I was wearing my 'deep in thought' face and decided to ask.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I dunno. I'm trying to figure out why Mystique didn't attempt to kill me too." I snorted under my breath. "I mean, it's not like I've not pissed her off long enough. And I didn't actually shut the door in her face the way Scott did. I just didn't help."
"Her and Scott have history," Evan pointed out, tossing the skateboard lightly from one hand to another. "She's tried to off him loads of times. You're more like... a nuisance. A mosquito, you know? And you're kind of vain, so I bet she figured a dose of humility would do you good."
I could feel myself puffing up in indignant rage, but his intelligent answer popped my balloon not a second later. I guess that would make sense. Scott's a leader for us all. I'm just a lackey. No sense in killing the soldiers you want to use someday.
"Hey!" Kevin said out of nowhere, whirling around and looking at me with a large grin on his face. "Can I see what you really look like? I mean, I've seen it on the news, but..."
"No." This I growled, and the human shrank back. Evan just looked at him strangely. I mean, I could kind of understand where he would be coming from: a teenager, surrounded by freaks, and with two right in his grasp, why not make them dance? But I didn't show my face for any half-wit on the street. So when Kevin opened his mouth to plead, I fixed him with a glare.
He wilted suddenly, swallowing with an audible gulp. "Never mind, then," he squeaked.
Silence again, as we continued walking to wherever it was we were headed. On my right, buildings and businesses faded into a park, with devolved into a gated cement haven. Guys and gals from Evan's side of things whooped and hollered as they landed (and horribly missed) their various tricks.
"Skate contest tomorrow," Evan said absently. I nodded, asking if he was participating after such a question, and he replied in the affirmative. "Though it might get cancelled." He frowned, brows pulling downwards. "The sponsor, Pow-R8, has a factory up in the boonies, but it got broken into last night. The damage is sky-high."
"So with money needed for repairs, looking for a decent skater might be..." I twirled my finger around my temple, and Evan smirked.
"Exactly."
"What've we got here, hmm?" A dark voice, new and unfamiliar, rang in my ears. I swung focus abruptly onto the new person, who was surrounded by a group of thugs. Come to think of it, so were we. Look at that. I try to be civil, and we walk straight into an ambush. That's it! I'm living as a hermit in the mountains.
"You can't beat me up today," Kevin said triumphantly. "I've got two mutants with me, and they'll cream you!"
I just stared. So much for inter-species relations, I guess. We'd been relocated on the food chain from 'worse than dirt' to 'so worse than dirt they're obviously only good for doing other people's dirty work'. I hiked my pack higher on my shoulder and took a step backwards, only to feel a fist tapping my floating ribs. Sucking in a breath, I decided to scoot up.
"We've got enough problems without handling yours." Evan glanced at me; I bobbed my head down twice and we both waited two beats.
One.
Two.
With an explosive cry, Evan popped his spikes and charged through a gap in the wall. I held up one hand, screeching a battle cry of my own, letting the silver winds wreath my fingers. Then I darted past the stunned bullies and took off at a brutal pace.
Fishing out my inhaler, I held it steady in my casted hand, just in case. Never could be too careful and all that.
On my left, Kurt burst out of a cloud of foul-smelling smoke. I swung my arm wide, but with the meds in my hand, nothing substantial came out. He was panting, too; his eyes flicking back and forth.
"That was close," he said, a smile teasing along his face. "I'm here to take you back to the mansion." He held out his hands, Evan taking one and me taking the other. I shut my eyes, clamping my jaw so as not to vomit. No matter how much he did that to me, I would never get used to it. Especially not after seeing what lives in the place.
We made it back to the mansion in good time. Xavier pried the full story from us (Evan still had his spikes out, for whatever reason) and sent us off while he pondered what to do in his room of awesomeness. I sat down for the first time in several months and actually attempted to do some of my homework.
Not that it went well, but it's the thought that counts.
Or maybe that's just with presents.
Oh well. Evening came and went; Kitty roped Logan into an evening session of driving and they came back two hours later, the communal X-Van in tatters. I took pictures, just to commemorate the occasion. We all had a good laugh, because Logan hates driving in anything that boxes him up, hence the motorcycle thing.
I stayed up all night, as was my usual. My late night grazing led me to another run-in with the Bleached Boy Wonder, in which he grudgingly revealed why his spikes had still been out when we'd gotten home. The plates down his back looked kind of cool, though. Much nicer than pointed ears, silver eyes, and white hair. Easier to hide, too.
Jealous? Me? The sheer thought!
Regardless. We skipped the requisite DR session the next morning in favor of eating another nice, family breakfast. Though I was starting to get creeped out by all the familial vibes. Restless, I motioned for Xavier to meet me in the hall. He stared at me openly, concern on his face.
"Why is everyone being so... homey?" I struggled to find a better word, but that was the only one I could grasp that had the feeling of... niceness. Peace. Companionship. That sort of fruity stuff.
"Your nightmare," Xavier said quietly. "I have mentioned before that you cry out for help on the mental channel, Loki, and this time, the nature of your dream was made clear when you began asking for someone to be there."
I looked down at him coldly. So this was just a... what, then? A way to make me feel better? Something to placate your little wind-up soldier?
"No." He glared at me, eyes full of fire. For a moment, I was starkly reminded of what he was: the most powerful telepath on the planet. He could take an egg-beater to my brains if he wanted. "This is our version of a family, Loki, finally seizing the opportunity to do what families do: spend time with one another."
"Sounds odd to me." I glanced over my shoulder; Scott and Jean were pouring over the recent article about the factory raid. "Scott, especially. He knows how much we need the DR sessions. Why skip out on them?"
"Mystique's attack taught him something." Xavier turned his wheels around, so we were both facing the bustling kitchen. The New Mutants and Beast would be down later, mostly due to them not having to go to actual school. "Practice sessions only go so far. He's taking time to experience life as a teenager, now, because he knows he won't be able to much longer. About as much as you yourself have been doing as of late."
"Oh?"
He looked up at me, a smile on his face. "Were there two tickets to Evan's competition today hidden in your pocket, or just another detention slip?" he teased. I felt my face burn hot and Xavier shooed me out of the hall. "Enjoy yourselves!" he called to my back.
So I was gonna take Grace and watch the punk skate. What can I say? Living with a guy for a while lets 'em rub off on you. And you might even find that you can stand their company. For a bit, at least. And we wouldn't have to talk, me and him, just let Grace and I hang out together before...
My shoulders sagged. Of course. Before the next set of bad circumstances came a'knocking.
Damn Xavier. Why's he got to be so smart?
Wrinkling my nose at the question, I fished a phone out of the couch and dialed up Grace. She agreed to come; she said her mom had been nagging her to take a day off anyways. Twenty minutes later, I was in her truck and we were sitting there. The silence was so thick, I could almost taste it.
Finally, I couldn't take it any longer. "Is something wrong, Grace? Did I do something to upset you?"
She turned to me, shaking her head as fast as she could without taking her eyes off the road. "No, no," she said distractedly, running one hand through her constantly-messy hair. "It's just... never mind. It's not important. I'll tell you later."
Something in her eyes warned me not to press. I obeyed my instincts and we turned into the parking lot with a screech of brakes. I hopped out, appraising the parking job with a critical eye. "You're over the lines on this side," I teased. She frowned and socked my arm; I threw my hands up and 'died'. Laughing now, we linked hands and went off to find a place to sit.
Not being one for skating competitions, I didn't have two clues as to what was going on half the time. Of course, neither did Grace, but we made up for our lack of knowledge with our version of commentary.
"Oh, and there he goes, face-plant, ten points... could have landed it a bit more artfully, though. And a twisty-twirl, a hang-nail, and a big jump..." And so on.
I managed to separate myself from her side to go say hi to the kid, and grabbed one of the Pow-R8 drinks on the way there. I peered over the heads of the shorter people, finally spotting his hair-do from across the way. I slid through the crowds, finally catching up with him.
"Hey," I said. "Good job out there. Are you doing well?" He nodded and gave me a thumbs-up, twisting off the cap of his own drink.
"Toast?"
I nodded. Opening mine, I knocked them together and said, "Hope you don't break your fool neck!"
Evan laughed. We both raised the bottles to our lips...
...only to have some chick with an eye-patch - come on, that's so out of style it's not even funny - knock them out of our hands.
"Don't," she rasped, glaring at Evan, then giving me a once-over. "Maybe he can drink it, but you certainly can't. It's poison!"
Mouths agape, we didn't have the collective brain power to say something back, and she melted back into the scores of people. We traded looks. I shrugged, a confused expression on my face, and an announcement buzzed over us, telling the competitors to get back in their places. Evan waved, and I struggled back to Grace's side.
With two bottles of Pow-R8. Hey, paranoia? It's knocking. It's saying, Don't believe creepy people with eye-patches. If you're thirsty, let someone else drink from it, and when they don't drop dead, you're clear. And she only seemed to think it would effect Evan, so it shouldn't hurt for Grace to try, right?
So when Grace sipped both the bottles at my explanation, she wiggled and said, "Seems good. I'm not dead yet, am I?"
I kissed her on the lips and said with a smirk, "I hope not." Eyebrows furrowed, Grace punched me again.
A couple skaters bombed. A couple shone. With the afternoon bearing down on us, Evan stepped up to the half-pipe (I'm not a total imbecile) and jumped down. Only, he must have taken off wrong, because he wobbled and the board slipped out from under him. He landed on his back with a loud whoosh of air and his spikes shot out, impaling a straight line up the curved sides on his left and right.
The shit hit the fan quickly after that. I apologized to Grace and she nodded brusquely, chocolate brown eyes burning into the back of my head. While the panel of judges was in pandemonium, I jumped onto the track and helped Evan to his feet.
"They're gonna be pissed," I said under my breath.
"Of course," he growled. I drew back, uncertain. His voice was deeper, darker; his face held a kind of anger I'd seen only a few different places. On Patrick, for one. On Mystique, when Scott locked her in. And now on him.
"He's a mutant!" the female judge shouted. "He's disqualified! Someone take him out of here now!"
I had to resist the urge to punch her. Instead I herded Evan over to a quieter place where we could hash things out. It was obvious to me that Evan had been one of the most skilled out there. The prejudice was... amazing. I shook my head, noticing with a frown that my knuckles were throbbing again.
Hitting them with a hammer hadn't quite broken them, but they still hurt like hell. And clutched in my hand was the bottle of Pow-R8. I moodily twisted off the cap and watched Evan do the same.
"Take a slug and grab your gear," I said quietly. "We'll get out of here before they get the cops." Evan sighed, his shoulders slumping.
"This sucks." I nodded, tapping my bottle against his, and put it to my lips. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone racing to us, mouth open, hand outstretched-
-the cool liquid slid down my throat, leaving behind a burning path of flame-
-plastic slid from my fingertips, sounds multiplied tenfold; the light became too bright to bear; my clothes were like dull knives against my skin-
-and blackness pounced on me, whisking me away.
"...didn't know he was a mutant! He looked normal enough! It's not our fault!"
"Yeah, well, he was hanging out with me! That should have been your first clue!"
Familiar voices. I blinked, cracking my eyes a bit, and moaned deep in my chest as the light stabbed my eyes. There was a tap-tap-tap of footsteps, the rasp of cloth against cloth, and I winced as the sensations poured into my brain.
"Loki." The chick. Creepy, eye-patch, got a thing against sports drinks. Her voice was like a loudspeaker in my ear and I shrank back from it, ignoring the stabbing of the blanket on my chest.
I shot upright, every muscle screaming, and fell back to the bunk with a howl of pain. Everything hurt. This wasn't a generalized pain, no, it was an everywhere-pain. My brain ached, my skin burned, something acrid made my nose itch and a gentle hand on my shoulder - so cold it sent a shiver down my spine, prompting me to lean over and dry-heave - caught my attention.
"I'm sorry," the rough woman's voice said again, but at a level I could stand. "I didn't know you were a mutant too. That Pow-R8 garbage is poisonous to us." I opened my eye a sliver.
Every pore, every crag in her skin became apparent. It was like someone was shining a spotlight onto her, then magnifying it directly into my brain. I moaned again and rasped, "My head... what the hell?"
"It's different for everyone," she whispered. "Evan is very... different now. You simply experienced a sudden increase in your senses. Some would call that a gift." She didn't appear too happy though. "But the pain I see says otherwise."
"No shit, Sherlock," I grouched. "It hurts..." It trailed off into a whimper.
"It should fade within a few hours," she said quietly. "Because of this, you will not be able to accompany Evan and myself up to the surface." I began to protest; backtracked, and cocked my head.
"Where am I? When can I go home?" I coughed; it felt like someone was trying to punch out of my chest.
"In the sewers. You may leave when you are healed. Evan may stay, if he wishes." She turned away, calculating. "I must depart. Lucid will take care of you." Without so much as a damn better reason, she left. I sat up again, fighting the urge to scream or vomit or both, and threw my feet onto the ground.
Shuddering at the sensations - every rock was a dagger, every breath a cold fire down my lungs - I limped my way out of the little chamber and into...
...a city. Underground. Mutants of all ages worked, humming, some play-wrestling or working the scrap into amusing shapes. I bit back a gasp, and a gentle hand on my arm made me jump.
"His carpals and phalanges are covered in metal," she said under her breath. "Inside one is broken, but it's healing. Other side the same, bruised tissue. And the neurons in his brain are going nuts." She looked up at me, blinking round eyes, and flicked out a forked tongue. "Oh. Hello. I'm Lucid. Nice to meet you."
I winced, motioned for her to talk quieter, but a thought agitated me once more. "I need to tell Grace I'm okay," I said, turning and making my way backwards. "And Xavier needs to know, too..."
"No, no!" she cried. "You can't go back, not yet, not until Callisto has completed the mission!"
"What mission?" I looked at her suspiciously.
"She's taken Evan and gone to destroy the Pow-R8 factory," Lucid murmured, wringing her hands together. "It's been flushing into the systems, and we've had two of our littlest pass away from the poison..."
I lifted my eyebrows. "Poison? Honestly?" I turned away, anger bubbling up within me, feeling like hot coals in my stomach. I whirled back around, snarling, "Let me go, now!" I whipped my hand out - just to scare her, scout's honor - and the blade of silver just missed her hair as she ducked.
With a hiss, she leaped, a blur of motion. I fell backwards into a puddle, screaming as the nerves fired painpainpain!, and my watch shorted out with a sizzle. Lucid paused, and almost seemed to deflate as she trailed one hand over an ear and into my grime-soaked hair.
"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Can you do illusions, too?" She nodded to me, then flicked her own ear. "With that wind?"
"What? No. It's my watch..." I weakly offered my wrist to her, biting my tongue as her fingers left a trail of pain over my hand. "It gives me a human face. So I can go to school and stuff."
"Why would you need that?" she asked quizzically. "Why not accept your true self and live here, with us? No one would fear you for looking different."
"That's not the point," I said tiredly. "I... belong up there." It sounded lame, even to me, and I elaborated. "I've got a life. A woman I love. A man who cares for me, and other mutants like me. I can't just give it all up because of my face." I swallowed self-consciously as she nodded, downcast.
"Not all of us are as lucky as you," she murmured. "I suppose you are correct." But she just held her hand out and tugged me out of the puddle. I began shivering, the cold seeping into my bones. As I exhaled, silver sparked. Lucid stepped forward, eyes shining, and she gently - the touch was still painful, but marginally so - grabbed my hand. "Walk with me?"
I did. She introduced me to the many varied members of - as we called ourselves the X-Men, they too had a name for themselves - the Morlocks. Each had a physical mutation that made living in the human world impossible. I met women too many arms, men with eyes in their hands and not on their faces, children with tails and scales and everything in between.
I was amazed. Here we were, fighting for rights, and these people still lived like this, and... they were happy. It wasn't like they were rich or anything, but the pleasure they got out of talking to another being who didn't flinch at the sight of them was surprising. I was taken aback, and Lucid noticed.
"You think because we live here we are miserable?" she said playfully. "Honestly, we are far happier than we would be up there. You should expand your horizons a bit, Loki."
I nodded. The movement didn't send knives up and down my neck and I blinked. Everything had slowly darkened, back to its usual sharpness in my eyes. Walking no longer ached. I turned, grinning. "I'm better?"
"You didn't drink very much," she said, nodding. "Consider yourself lucky. When it first flushed down here, the children drank themselves full. The sensory overload killed them slowly." My stomach dropped; the good mood shattered.
I opened my mouth to apologize - for what, I don't know; perhaps the cruelty of humans that keep them down here or my own stupid prejudices - when Evan burst in, Storm hot on his tail.
Evan was... changed. His bone-colored spikes had become bone-colored armor, plates running across his chest and arms and up around his head in a samurai-esque helmet. I raised my brows, and Storm shot me a pleading look. "Talk to him!" she mouthed.
I smiled at Lucid and she nodded. "He won't agree," she said with certainty. "He wants to stay and protect us. It's rather noble, though we're capable of that ourselves. But you can let him know he's still welcome up at the surface."
Walking around the puddles, bemoaning the fact my pants were shot (I'm getting back to normal, thank goodness!), I gestured to Evan, who stomped over and growled under his breath.
"He's not gonna stop making that crap," he snarled, kicking the wall. "The look on his face - it was horrible. He knew it was deadly to us, and he liked it."
"Miss Ororo seems to think you want to stay."
"So what?" He seemed to wilt a bit. "I never fit in with your crew, Loki." My crew? What the hell? "They look up to you as much as they do Scott. Jean, too. I was just... there." He shrugged; the armor moved smoothly with the motion. "And now, looking like this..." Evan opened his mouth to continue, but I beat him to it.
I dipped my head to my chest slowly. "You're growing up," I said softly. "You care about them, even if you've only been with them for a little while. I can see that. I just want you to know, as much as I was irritated with you in the beginning..." I held out my hand and he grasped it firmly, shaking once. "I respect your decision. Just don't get yourself killed, alright?"
Well. Making a long story longer, we left Evan behind in the tunnels, the Morlocks looking on at the X-Men who escorted me up. Xavier gave me a replacement watch, since the other one was fried. Storm was upset I hadn't convinced Evan to stay, but by the tears in her eyes I knew it was mostly worry and not anger. No one had been injured; Xavier informed me that the Pow-R8 guy would stop. Evan's words haunted me, though, and I tucked that information away for another day.
Grace was furious, of course. Ranting about not being careful and kidnappers and such, she nearly paced a trough into the ground at the park where she agreed to meet me.
"And that's not even the worst part," she growled, raking a hand through her hair. A nervous gesture, I knew. I straightened, gathering her into my arms.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing you've done," she grumbled. Then she pulled herself away and sighed, scuffing the ground with one foot.
"What?"
"It's my mom," she muttered. "She... wants to meet you. For real. Like, at a dinner."
I could face mutants. Mutants were simple: revenge or power. The evil ones, at least. And crazy humans weren't that bad either. But meeting my girlfriend's mom for dinner?
I'd rather be poisoned. Again.
Oh, fun.
A/N: Eek. It wouldn't stop writing itself. Sorry! You know the drill, etc. Review, thanks, I don't own.
Espa - Sometimes a story needs a little wtf-ery. Hopefully this one will make more sense. Look! Character development! Loki's actually beginning to realize he's not the most important person in the world! (And about the broken hand hammering thing: drawing off my own experiences, I've broken my hand before and within five days with the cast on I was doing stuff like it'd never been broken. Sorry if continuity sucks! ^^)
Until next time - peace.