Don't bother Scott. Be careful how you talk to Scott. If Scott seems disoriented, find Jean immediately.
This is how Kitty greeted me when I got back.
"It's nothing serious," she said with a nonchalant wave of the hand, "he's just not himself since the mission."
Piotr was more forthcoming, but he looked over my head before answering each question. He repeated Kitty's admonition to act carefully around Scott, informing me that his teaching duties will be limited until his mental health improves.
From an alcove, I listen to a hushed conversation between Logan and Jean. According to her, Scott's become distant, keeping to himself while shutting her out. The "aftereffects" aren't clearing up, she says, but he won't let her in to help. Logan suggests he's afraid to.
"What are you doing?" asks a voice over my shoulder.
My skin prickles. I do not like this woman. I didn't get a chance to meet her before leaving for the summer, but I've been back less than a week and she already rubs me the wrong way. Raising my head, I let the open book in my lap speak for itself.
Emma arches her brow. "You chose to read here?"
Her telepathy's a bit too keen for my taste, so I refrain from even thinking what I want to say. Instead, I ignore her and look back at my book.
Boring of me, she walks away, and I ditch the eavesdropping and jump to my room. Nowadays I teleport whenever I can, getting my walking done on weekends when I volunteer in the city. As often as I can I wear a different face while in public, otherwise people pause to stare at me. There must be another video of me online, or else I wouldn't be this recognizable.
"It's really my face?"
Matt kicks a sack of clothes under his new bed. "Probably some creeper with a zoom-in lens. Here give me that, I have it bookmarked."
I clutch the laptop bag I'm carrying. "I don't want to see it. Just tell me what happens. What do I do in this video?"
Matt glares at a note left by his new roommate. "What the hell is a dove-ette?"
I look at the note too. "He's saying he got you a new comforter. What was in this video?"
"God, Ace, nothing. You save a guy from a car fire and then put out the fire."
I stifle a frustrated scream. That tourist kid with the Nokia. "I might throw up on your duvet."
Matt crumples the note. "Go for it. You still in the apartment, by the way?"
"On weekends." I set his things down on the floor. "Why, how much longer can I stay?"
"Dad's keeping it till January I think, but I can't afford to keep bribing the housekeeper."
I look out of the flat's third story window. "You've got a great view. You can even see a corner of the green if you angle a little."
"I think that's just some other lawn." A drawer shunts shut. "I'm meeting some people at a classy little pub later. Care to join?"
"Knowing you the people probably aren't as classy as the pub."
"Hey, they're English, they're born with class."
"And supposedly so were you, yet."
Matt pinches me. "How's Scott doing, any better?"
I zip up my sweater. "Jean's worried, that's all I know. He seemed alright when I talked to him the other day, but..."
Nodding his head, Matt checks to make sure his phone and wallet are on him before ushering me out the door. "Summers is the man with the plan. He'll be alright."
...
After the guys moved out, I was unprepared for the hollow loneliness that would take their place. Thus, I moved all our household things out of the apartment and into my completed room at Stark Tower, where I stayed unnoticed by anyone but JARVIS.
I brush hair out of my eyes as I stare through the smoke and adjust my earpiece. Logan looks sidelong at me.
"You programmed this one, didn't you?"
"What gave you that idea? On your left, Terry."
A piercing shriek signals the end of those aliens, followed by a whoop a block away.
"That kid's too happy to kill things," mutters Logan.
"He's just hyper," I say, as enemy fire disintegrates into the field hanging over our heads. My nerves twitch and jump with each hit, but I've kept the field up for a solid eight minutes now, long enough to let the kids get some groundwork done without running for cover every few seconds.
"Recendez, Haslett," Logan snaps into his comm., "we've got a big one comin' in."
Two of our bulkier students leap from their positions and onto a small-scale Leviathan. It roars with confusion, belly skimming the surface of my field and sending tremors down my spine.
"Rodriguez got himself tangled up again," Logan observes drily.
"Could you-"
He leaves to handle the imperiled student. I step out from my cover and yank a chariot to the ground. "You're doing great, guys. Field's coming down now, so watch out."
My body shudders as the field finally drops, but I don't feel exhausted.
"I told you you'd teach Danger. They terrified of you yet?"
"Not when I'm with Logan." I shift the phone to my other shoulder as I snap binder rings back into place. "I'm the nice one."
Vince chuckles. "I see Stark's back in Malibu. Could you get him to stop by and make me look awesome?"
"I'll get right on that. Are you coming back for Thanksgiving?"
"Don't know yet," he answers rather flatly, "I might have plans here."
I contain my disappointment. "Right. Keep me posted."
Vince has developed a tone for when he wants me to get off his case, and the last thing I want is to annoy him. I miss him like crazy, and I'm mad at myself for it. I'm mad and I don't know why, just that I messed us up.
"You're acting weird," Logan observes.
I look under the break room table. "Just looking for Scott's tutoring folder, he said he left it in here."
Logan opens the freezer. "Are you the one who keeps doing this?"
Glancing up, I snort. "No, Bobby."
He takes out the frozen beer can and rolls it onto the counter. "So. How're things going with the guys?"
"Fine." Suspicious. "Why?"
"Vinny and I had a talk while he was—"
"No."
"—getting ready to leave for California." He hands me the frozen beer. "So now I'm talking to you."
"Uh-uh, what is this? This isn't something you've ever worried about with Rogue or Kitty. What did he tell you?"
"That you're a stubborn, suspicious person even when it comes to your best friends. What's changed?"
I shift. "He was rough to get along with, needed to grow up. Now he's...he's nice. He's still a jerk, but he's nice about it."
Logan mulls over that.
"I should never have said anything." I drop the frozen beer can in the sink. "There would never have been any problems between us if we'd just kept our stupid minds to ourselves."
With a sigh, Logan goes to find a warm beer instead. I pick at a loose hem on my shirt. "How's Jean doing with Scott? She seems stressed."
Finding a beer, Logan closes the cupboard with his knee. "Back to your old ways, I see."
I press my tongue into my cheek. "Still talking about me behind my back, I see."
"Raising you required a lot of second opinions, so don't even start with that again."
"And getting any idea of how to live around here seems to require a lot of eavesdropping, which—in a place as rife with mind-readers as this one—is common practice." I cross my arms. "So, can you tell me about this disaster of a mission that I missed out on? I've been waiting months to know what the hell happened."
Swearing tiredly under his breath, Logan sits down at the table and pops open the first in a six-pack. I sit down too.
"It wasn't a rescue, there was no public emergency. It was an old enemy with a bone to pick. Emma worked for him." Logan downs as much beer in one lift as he can, and sighs. "Except now they had someone else working with them too. Capable of mind control and suffering from a god complex. Not going into all the details, but he took over the operation shortly after we got there. That's when everything went downhill.
"He played around in our heads for a week, making us think we were safe then sifting through every sensitive spot he could find. Scott somehow got the upper hand and let him play hell in his head instead. Bastard thought that was funny, but he still didn't let us go. No one knew where Kitty was for another week after that. We thought we lost her in the first fight when one of Scott's blasts caused a landslide."
Logan looks at the beer can and swallows. "Turns out she was just looking for a way to get us out too. Far as I know, he didn't meddle with her."
I fill in the blanks. Emma did though.
One more long drag and the can is empty. He cracks open another.
"How is it she's here?"
Logan takes a drink before answering. "She came through in the end. We made it out by the skin of our teeth with her help, but Jean was the powerhouse. I've never seen…" He trails off, brows knitted as he thinks.
"You've never seen—?" I coax.
He licks his lips, actually hesitating to take another drink. "Jean got us out. I'm still not sure how."
I remember how she was when she arrived, how energy seemed to radiate from her. "But she's alright now."
"No, there was nothing wrong with her." His brows stay furrowed. "I think she just didn't realize her own strength."
The school bell rings and I get up. "Was Vin worried about…about what I said?"
Logan puts his remaining beers back. "Worried about you mostly. Said you have a lot going on since the attack."
I raise my eyebrows and head out the door.
...
Matt tosses a candy wrapper at the overfilled theater garbage can. "They broke up like, last week. He didn't tell you?"
"That idiot. Give me your phone."
"Vin and Kirsten broke up?" Madge asks. When she heard I was going to the movies with Matt in England, she dropped everything and willingly risked teleporting. "We're Facebook friends, how did I miss that?"
Matt scowls as I snatch his phone from him. "He took the update down pretty fast."
"I hope he's okay," Madge continues. "They were really cute together."
"Forget it." I stop dialing and return Matt's phone.
"Ix-nay on the—cough—'cute together'-nay." Matt pokes Madge in the side.
"That's not how pig Latin works, moron." I smack his belly, wondering too if Kirsten's okay. Madge raises one eyebrow and looks between us, so I quickly change the subject. "Matt, will you be home for Thanksgiving?"
"Ugh, yes. Mom's shoehorning me into having Thanksgiving with her family. I don't even know those people."
Madge gives a sympathetic half-smile. "You'll have a nice time, Mattie. Think of the turkey."
"I actually prefer ham."
"Then think of pie," I cut in. "Vince said he might be staying in Cali for Thanksgiving, but if they did break up then his plans might've changed. Anyway, come on, Madge."
"Hey," Matt catches my hood as I start to walk away, "if I do end up getting stuck with my mom's relatives, will you be my date?"
"Matt, I'm sorry, but that sounds absolutely miserable."
"I'll go," pipes Madge, the poor thing.
I shake my head firmly, and Matt makes a face. "Yeah, my family's kinda...I wouldn't want to put you through that, Maggie. Ace can handle it."
"Well now I'm just aching to go," I say, checking the time.
"So, we'll sneak out early and drive to Xavier's." He flashes a grin. "It'll be fun."
I roll my eyes because he used the grin, but it does work on me. "Maybe. But if Vince comes home I don't want to abandon him just so you can disappoint your mother."
"My mother can never be disappointed by me."
"I'm no expert, but I think you underestimate mothers." I squint at the gray sky. "I'll rescue you if I can, but right now Madge and I have a student curfew to meet."
Madge perks up at the sound of Big Ben tolling. "You know I owe you a humongous favor after this, right?"
I try not to look too flattered. "It took some crazy physics to get you over here. Let me know if you feel dizzy or forgetful in the coming days."
Her lips quirk in that cute way they do and she looks at Matt. "See you on the web?"
Matt taps her on the nose and grins.
...
Vince pulls off his sweater and throws it on his bed. "No, honestly, we weren't that into each other anymore, and she found someone she likes better."
"You're okay with that?"
"As long as he's nice to her, yeah."
I lean back in his desk chair.
"Just do what I did," he smirks, "tell yourself you're not in love with me."
"Don't make me slap you—oh, you're enjoying this."
"If anything, I had to join the Brotherhood to get over you. I guess your equivalent would be joining the X-Men or the Avengers."
I shake my head. "I've got too much work to be on a team now. Don't even think I can make Matt's thing tonight."
"Are you kidding? We can't leave him there; he's our damsel in distress."
"Right, you still haven't answered my question; does this outfit look good enough to have dinner with billionaires?"
Crossing his arms, Vince gives me a good long survey. "Are you wearing shoes?"
"Yes."
"Then you're already overdressed for a party with my relatives."
I slap his backside and change into something else.
...
Matt drove me along the breezy, coastal road to his family's place in the Hamptons, his expression icy and his mannerisms agitated. When the road turns onto a private lane, the sand and the beach grasses continue for an acre before giving way to an endless manicured lawn. The house itself is everything I expected; broad porch, high ceilings, polished wood flooring, and a ridiculous white staircase leading to the second floor.
"Half an hour, tops," he promises again as I'm led into the kitchen. "But please—pretty please—don't…eat anything. I'm not trying to be a jackass, but you know how you eat."
"Like a starved coyote," I say drily, repeating an observation of his in past. "You know, considering the number of times I've taken you home when you were too sloshed to walk—"
"Ooh, yeah, don't mention those times either."
"Matt," I put on my nicest tone, "I'm doing you a huge favor. Please don't tick me off while I'm here, or all sorts of things might happen."
"Mattie," exclaims a richly feminine voice, "when did you get here?"
Pure blonde hair—with the help of dye—an altered nose, French tips, and an excessively glittery cocktail dress. Add to all this the cavalcade of Chanel N°5 accented by a hint of bourbon, and this is indisputably Matt's mother.
"Oh, look at you," she hooks one arm around his neck and pulls his head to her shoulder, "you're so pale. Please come back next semester, England is so gloomy."
"Mhm," Matt mumbles into her shoulder. "Where is he?"
"Who's this?" Mrs. Larson changes her tone of voice noticeably when she sees me.
"It's Amy."
"Who's Amy?"
"She's just an old friend." He's never told her about me. "I've got to talk to Dad, where is he?"
"Matthew Bernard, I haven't seen hide or hair of you in six months and the first thing you want to do is see your father?"
Matt mutters as he heads for another door leading out of the kitchen. "Is he in his den?"
"Lord knows, he's probably bolted himself in upstairs." Mrs. Larson follows after her son. "They won't be here for another fifteen minutes and he's already being a pain in the ass."
"When isn't he a pain in the ass?"
Their back-and-forth continues down the hall while I stay put and give all the party platters a look over. Don't eat anything, yeah right. I'll eat whatever I want.
At one point I hear Mrs. Larson's voice ringing heavily pathetic.
"Mom, I told you, I'm not staying, I've got plans."
"You've always got plans, but they're never to stay home with your miserable mother."
"You're not miserable," Matt replies tiredly. "Don't be so dramatic."
A car pulls up in the roundabout, then another. I clear my throat and wonder if I shouldn't have followed Matt too. The doorbell rings and I wait to see if any of the Larsons will respond, when a fourth person in the household walks into the foyer. Peeking out through the frosted glass door of the kitchen, I spot a well-dressed man approach the front entrance. Servant.
A male voice rises harshly from somewhere else in the house, and Matt's voice with it. Six people in the foyer, and I a pheasant about to be flushed. Tip-toeing out the second kitchen door, I follow the sound of Matt's arguing.
"After all that trouble at BU, you really expect me—"
"Dad, it's not that much more, and I'll pay you back when—"
I block them out to focus on the sound of ice cracking in warm bourbon. Matt's mother is behind the door to my left, but contrary to my silent prayer she doesn't stay there. Glass in hand, the forty-two-year-old ex-beauty queen drifts into the hallway and leans back against the doorframe, sipping quietly. "So, are you one of Mattie's little girlfriends?"
Relatives chatter in the background, talking about Jackie. "No, those never last as long as I have."
Mrs. Larson swirls her glass. "I bet you want him for his money."
And you married Daddy Dearest for his riveting personality? I smile. "The last thing I need is his money."
A gunshot perforates the silence. Jackie Larson screams, spilling her bourbon on the walnut floor. I immediately locate Matt, en route to the hallway.
"What the—"
"Front lawn," I answer.
A gray-haired man Matt's height follows after him. "That better not be your cousin because I'll kill him." With that, Robert Larson pushes past us and into the kitchen.
One man stands in the two-acre front lawn, a man I mistook for an arriving relative when I heard him approach on foot. Matt's father, who isn't as old as he's pretending to be, stalks toward the window. "Bastard."
"Really? At the house?" Matt jabs a finger at the window. "This happens at the house now?"
"Robert, what the hell is going on?" Jackie leans toward the window, unable to smother her curiosity. I step forward to pull her back, but Robert does it for me.
"Of course the first thing you do when there's a crisis is bumble your way into the crossfire."
Jackie pushes him off and walks away from the window, proud but embarrassed. I look at Matt tangibly fuming, and raise my eyebrows. He looks sidelong at me, momentarily confused, then furrows his brow and mouths a 'no.'
"C'mon, Robert," the stranger shouts, "haven't got all night."
Robert stands to the side of the window, glaring down into the yard, clenching his trembling hands into fists. The servant is already on the phone with the police, and Jackie rolls her eyes and walks into the foyer. "I have guests."
Matt takes me by the arm. "Forget this, we're going out the back way."
On the car ride home, I ask if there's something else we should have done.
"Nothing will happen," he insists. "They just argue and then the cops come, nothing new."
"But that happens often?" I stare at him in the dark, the lights from the dashboard reflecting in his eyes. "Whose bad side did your dad get on?"
"Who knows? I swear it's someone different every time."
"And you really don't know why people are hostile towards him?"
Matt presses his tongue into his cheek and glances at me. "This is the man who didn't even tell me that he and mom would be in Europe for two months when I was eight. You think he'd tell me now why people are showing up in our front yard with guns? I don't bother asking anymore. Just drop it."
I uncross my arms to rub my eyes then curse myself quietly when I remember I put on real makeup. "You know I worry about you, right?"
Matt swallows to clear his throat, and turns on the radio. I press my forehead to the window and watch as the city crawls by.
Vince sets the can down, not exactly a fan of Logan's choice of beer. "Alright, what are you listening to?"
Logan raises an eyebrow, but his head remains slightly inclined. "She's home."
There's a gentle sound of impact as Vince's forehead meets the tabletop.
"Better get going," Logan says, reclaiming the can and drinking it himself. "Before she gets caught up with her friends."
"I can't do this."
Logan comes around to the other side of the table and pulls Vince's chair back, startling him. "Get going now."
The stables deliver a stronger odor in the inclement weather than usual, but when he opens her door there's a distinct trace of perfume. A few steps in and he trips over her dress discarded right where she took it off.
"Hey, dude." Ace stands by the desk in jeans and a t-shirt trying to take off a necklace. "Turns out Matt's family is crazier than we thought."
Vince swallows. "He's here, right?"
"Yeah, he's talking to Scott. Poor guy, he was probably hoping for a stress-free night here, but Scott's really—"
"I want you."
Ace hesitates before turning to face him.
"Do you still want me?"
Letting out a pent up breath, she gives him a sarcastic look tainted by a smile. It takes no time at all to cover the ground between them. Taking her face in his hands, Vince leans in for a kiss, but hesitates. Her pulse throbs against his fingertips, and he wonders what made him think he could just do this without asking.
"Can you help me get this necklace off first?"She bites her lip, eyes laughing.
He mangles the clasp, but kissing her is like stepping into another world altogether. When it's over, Ace wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder, and he holds on in return. For a while neither of them speaks.
Ace pulls back to look him in the eyes. "So now what?"
Vince feels his own smile spread through every part of him. "You let me kiss you again."
She makes a face. "I don't know how to kiss."
He shrugs. "Then I'll show you."
She crosses her arms. "And if we mess up? I mean, if we really mess up and it all ends in tears?"
Vince holds his arms out at his sides. "Then we gave it our best shot. We can't blame ourselves for that, can we?"
"You underestimate my ability to blame myself."
Vince steps forward again, looking her in the eyes. "Then I take all the blame ahead of time."
"You'll say anything at this point, won't you?"
"I really want to kiss you again."
Ace sighs and closes her eyes, and those fine lips of hers are like coming home at last.
Review please, a lovely little review, yes thank you *author requires the will to live*. — 3/2/18
