Disclaimer: I own nothing, Marvel owns everything…and I am a dirt-poor college kid. I am making no money off this fic; it's just for fun. So, Marvel guys…don't sue me!
By the way: I own Maya…she's mine all mine!
The story: this is the second installment of the series, and it continues to jump in time from the present to the not so distant past. Hopefully it won't be too confusing or too boring. Hopefully, Maya isn't too "Mary Sue"…I've tried to make her flawed. If that doesn't work and I get tired of her, I'll just kill her off. Why? Because I'm the author. Mwahahaha. Seriously, I'm sorry she's such a pretty little thing, but seriously have you ever heard of an ugly X-Man in any of the comics/movies/ cartoons?
When I use these symbols // It indicates a telepathic thought.
So, let's go back to the hospital in New York City, shall we?
The End of the Matter, Part 2
Present Day: The Hospital
Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep…
The heart monitor in the
hospital room continued it's vigil, reminding everyone within hearing distance
that the patient in Room 221 was still alive, still breathing. Outside the
room, a night nurse hurried past the open door, then stopped and looked inside.
The patient lay still, her
steel gray hair neatly combed, her eyes closed, an oxygen mask up over her
mouth and nose. All seemed well, or reasonably well, with the elderly patient
in Room 221, but that wasn't what drew the nurse inside. Her eyes were not
drawn to the patient, but to the other person in the room, the young girl in
the corner chair.
She was asleep, and the
nurse wondered why no one had hurried the child out when visiting hours ended
over two hours ago. Her knees were drawn up against her chest, and she had
wrapped her arms around them. Her head was resting on her knees, and the nurse
watched the child breathe rhythmically. She couldn't see the girl's face…it was
turned away from the door.
My God, the girl must have a spine like a Slinky, curled up like she is. Then again, I was that flexible when I was her age…Well, no sense kicking her out now when there's another bed in the room. I'll just wake her long enough to get her into the other bed, so she can get a decent night's sleep, the poor dear.
The nurse strode quietly
over to the battered plastic chair; her rubber soled shoes squeaking slightly
on the worn linoleum floor, and gently shook the child's shoulder. The girl,
who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16, came awake sluggishly at first, then
fully aware within a matter of seconds. She uncurled herself from the chair and
stood, turning the very action of standing into a full body stretch. It
reminded Nurse Carol Jenkins of her pet cat, and she suppressed the urge to be
jealous. Besides being ridiculously limber, the child was physically stunning,
the kind of girl that most photographers would sell their soul to discover.
Definite model material, except for one thing: she was barely 5 foot tall.
Still, she was a stunning little thing, with light olive-brown skin, high
cheekbones set in a delicate heart-shaped face, thick black hair that reached
to the bottom of her shoulder blades in loose pre-Raphaelite curls, and her
eyes…well, they were the kind of eyes that men wrote songs and poems about…eyes
that just reached out and grabbed you, then wouldn't let you go.
Deep brown, almost black…and slanted, tilting upward at the corner. Oriental almost, but not quite, double-lidded, exotic, strange…she looks like she could see into your soul with those eyes…or cast a spell on you.
Nurse Jenkins shook
herself out of her reverie, chiding herself for the momentary lapse in
attention. The girl was beautiful, all right, no doubt about that. She was also
just about ready to fall over from exhaustion. She had a slightly dazed
expression on her face, as if she didn't know where she was. The child ran a
hand through her thick, curly hair, looked around and said:
"Where am I? How's my
Gram?" Then she looked at the clock on the wall and said,"Oh shit, did I fall
asleep past visiting hours again?"
Nurse Jenkins laughed, and
said," Well, that certainly broke the spell!" Then she blushed, realizing she'd
been thinking aloud when the girl looked at her funny. "Sorry, dear, here I've
been standing here daydreaming and you look like you're about ready to drop. To
answer your question: yes, you did fall asleep past visiting hours. However, I
can't see turning you out of here tonight. It's 20 degrees outside and it's 10 o'clock in the evening. If you'd like, you
can stay here in the room with your grandmother for the evening. I'll just need
to record your name as a guest, so there's no confusion among the staff. Can
you tell me your name, dear?"
"My name is Michelle, and
I thank you for your kindness, ma'am, but I really should be going now..."
"Really, dear, you can
stay here…its no trouble at all. No one in the hospital will mind, especially
since you're a relative of the patient."
The girl hesitated for a
moment, looked at her grandmother lying on the bed, then said," No, I'd better
be going. I promised Gram I would feed her cats and water the plants at the
apartment…wouldn't want to break a promise, neh? Particularly right now under
the circumstances…" The child said the last line with a false brightness that
didn't even touch those lovely almond eyes, and the nurse thought she saw tears
begin to well up. Then she remembered who the patient was…
Saril Villovich, aged 73, progressive congestive heart failure, I remember now… she's a terminal case with a "Do Not Resuscitate" order sitting on file at the Nurses station. I'd bet my pension that her granddaughter knows about it, too. No wonder she wants to get out of here…She'd be sleeping in the same room as a dead woman. Well, as good as dead, really. It doesn't look like it will be too long, and Margaret said that the girl has been here every day for the last five days, since her grandmother was admitted. How could I have forgotten?
The girl was shrugging on her jacket, a worn canvas military coat.
It was probably an old U.N. Peacekeeper's jacket, from the looks of it, the
kind you could find at some of the thrift stores in the city if you really kept
your eyes open. Most kids wouldn't be caught dead in something so …used, but
this girl seemed at home in it. It seemed to both contrast and compliment her
long orange skirt and scuffed combat boots perfectly.
Gypsy chic…that's what it looks like…what she looks like. One of the Rom…although she doesn't look like most of the Rom I've seen here in New York. I wonder where her parents are?
"Would you like me to call
your parents, dear? They must be worried about you by now…"
"My parents are both
deceased ma'am…my grandmother is my legal guardian right now."
"I'm so sorry…I didn't
know…How insensitive of me."
The girl, now dressed for
the cold December evening, reached out and put a comforting hand on the woman's
arm, offering compassion and understanding with a simple human touch. She
smiled gently and said, "It's all right, you couldn't have known. And I'll be
fine out there, don't you worry." She smiled widely now, almost as if she was
enjoying an inside joke, and then laughed and said, "I'm actually a lot tougher
than I look…at least that's what my friends at school say. Well, good evening,
ma'am."
"Good evening, dear, and
watch yourself going home, you hear? We'll take good care of your grandmother,
so don't you worry about a thing. She's in good hands."
The girl turned and simply
said, "I know." Then she gave another one of her enigmatic smiles and was gone,
gracefully making her way out the door, down the hall and into the cold New
York night, an elfin woman-child walking alone in a city that would chew her up
and spit her out if she let it. A city full of people who would probably kill
her if they knew just what she really was, not just Rom, but something more…
Something much, much more…
Maya shrugged deeper into
her old jacket, and shuddered in the cold December night, her boots scrutching
loudly in the snow that had fallen earlier that evening. It filled the city
with a short of innocence, and a beauty that was often missing from the
rambling concrete jungle. It was quiet out tonight, and as she looked back at
the hospital, she was filled with a sense of peace…and of regret. She had made
all of the arrangements today. The Rom had been notified, the Church had been
contacted, and the funeral was being planned. All was in order. Still…
I should call the Institute…it's been four days and I need to talk about this now, before I lose my mind. Let's just hope I don't start to cry…I've never let them see me cry…never.
As she walked to the old
brownstone that her grandmother called home, she began to think about the past
three months, and how much the time had changed her…and she thought especially
of the day that this had all began, the day three months ago when her Gram had
suffered the heart attack that would be the start of all this. The funny thing
was, looking back now, there had been nothing to indicate that it would be
anything but a normal day…
Then again…was there any
such thing as a "normal" day at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Children?
What would people do if they knew just how "gifted" we really are? Sometimes I wonder…and I fear what the answer would be. I'm being foolish, getting paranoid, running scared. If Gram were here she would probably say something like "Te na knutshos perdal tsho ushalin, Misha"…try not to jump over your own shadow, Michelle.
Sorry Gram, it's not that easy…
Wish you were here…
Three months ago: the Xavier Institute
Maya stood and stretched,
her neck popping with the movement. It had been a long meeting, and she was
eager to get out and enjoy the rest of her Saturday.
I'll have to find Slushy first…talk to him like I said I would.
It was such a beautiful
day, late September Indian Summer with temperatures in the mid 70's. She had a
Chemistry exam to study for, and a creative writing project to finish, but
other than that her day was absolutely, positively free of any other
responsibilities.
Hell, Chem can wait till tomorrow, or later tonight if I'm not doing anything…I can always go to Hank if I get really stuck on the formulas. Creative Writing? Hmmm…not really in the mood. Maybe I'll go out to the Nature Preserve after I have my one-on-one with Bobby…go out for a run. That or I could get a pick up game of basketball going with Evan. It's too nice out to stay inside all day…
But first to find Bobby…
She went upstairs to his
room and knocked on the door…no answer. She went down to the kitchen, the
Danger Room, the living room, outside…everywhere. She even tried to "feel" for
him mentally, which was usually a last resort for her. She didn't really like
using her talents to "find" people; it always felt a bit sneaky to her, like an
invasion of privacy. Still, she tried it this time, but there was no sign of
him. She really wasn't that surprised; there were a lot of people in the
mansion, and it was hard for her to get an accurate reading on people when the
house was this crowded. Jean was actually a lot better at it then she was,
though Jean was a telepath, not an empath. Just then, Kurt appeared with a
BAMF, and an explosion of smoke and brimstone. Maya had been at the mansion way
too long for the dramatic entrance to make any sort of impression on her
anymore…
Not like the first time…God, I about jumped out of my skin. And the first time he actually 'ported me with him…I almost fell over. Yeah, inter-dimensional travel…it's all the rage these days. All passengers, remember to fasten your seatbelts, and please don't forget your Dramamine…
"Greetings, liebchen, are you perhaps looking for Herr Drake?" said the
furry blue mutant, tail swishing slightly behind him, a wicked gleam in his
yellow eyes.
"Yeah, Kurt…have you seen
him? I swear I 've looked everywhere."
"Ja, I've seen him", said
Kurt with a smile. " Did you perhaps forget
to check in the library, Misha? He was
last in there, waiting for you. "
Wha…? The library? Well, that is the one
place I didn't expect to find him…usually, the only way to get Bobby Drake in
the library is to drag him in…or bribe him. Why is he in the library?
"Why is he in the
library?" she asked Kurt, who just shrugged and said, "Beats me, I didn't think
he even knew where the library was. Maybe he has discovered a newfound love of
books, no?"
Maya looked at him, one
eyebrow raised and said,"Uhhh, no. The day that Bobby Drake falls in love with
books is the day that Hitler takes up ice-skating. It's just not going to
happen, buddy. Not in this lifetime, at least…"
Kurt looked at her slyly
and said, "Well, then perhaps something, or should I say, somebody has gotten him interested in…ahem…academic pursuits.
Perhaps he is trying to impress a certain very serious young lady who likes to
spend much of her time in the library? Hmmm…?"
"Well maybe you're right,
Kurt. But you know, I really don't think
Kitty is his type…" replied Maya wickedly, unable to keep a straight face.
Kurt smiled back and made
a motion as if to smack Maya upside the head, which got her laughing even
harder. She then threw an arm around her "cosmic brother", and said, "Care to
port me down to Mister Drake, Herr Wagner? I'm feeling particularly lazy
today…"
"Ja, why walk when you
can…"
!BAMF!
The two teens disappeared
in a puff of smoke, the distinctive smell of burning brimstone redolent in the
air serving as the only reminder that they had been there at all. It drifted
away in the still September air, dust motes dancing with the threads of smoke
until they melded…and disappeared. And then there was only silence…
The Present
Michelle unlocked the door
to the brownstone and walked into the living room. The house was actually a
duplex; the landlady lived in the other apartment, and had been the one to
discover her grandmother that day three months ago. It had been a heart attack.
Nadia had called her at the Institute that evening, shortly after the ambulance
had taken her grandmother away. Michelle had had plans to go out that night
with Alison, Rogue and Kitty, but had backed out at the last minute. She had
had a "feeling" that she should stay put, had settled down with her Chemistry
notes…and then the phone call came through. Precognition worked that way for
her, funny and unpredictable, coming and going when she least expected it. She
had stayed in the city that night, alone in the apartment. The place was empty
without her Gram's presence to fill it, and she had cried herself to sleep that
night…and many nights after that. Alone, as she always was…alone.
Maybe that's why I am so afraid to let her go. I will really, truly, be an orphan then. And I will be alone…
She prided herself on her
emotional control. She needed control as an Empath; otherwise she would go
crazy trying to deal with everyone around her. Alison called her "the ultimate
co-dependent" because she was always trying to keep everyone happy. Always
looking out for the team emotionally, trying to keep people from hurting…or
killing each other.
Maybe Ali's right…I need them to be happy, because I'm so sensitive to emotional vibes. If 50% of the household is in a pissy mood, you can just bet I'm going to turn into a royal bitch. I get sucked into the vibe so easily…so I try to head it off at the pass, so to speak. That's the unspoken rule: keep everyone happy, don't leave anyone hurting, and be there for them when they need you. That includes 3 o'clock in the morning counseling sessions, which I've done on more than one occasion. It's an unspoken thing among the kids: you can go to Maya if you need to talk. If you're upset, angry, ready to throw yourself off the roof, you go to Maya because she's a kid, too, and she understands. You go to Ororo if you need a grown-up to talk to, but if it's something that a grown-up isn't going to understand, you go to Maya…
That was the unspoken agreement among the other
students at the Institute, and in the 9 months that Michelle had been there, at
least seven of the students had taken advantage of it…
Rogue and Kurt, for the most part, but even Warren, Scott, and Jean have come to me from time to time. Bobby would rather not; I think it bugs him that I can get into his head so easily. Evan hasn't either, because of all the students; he's the most comfortable with himself and what he can do. There is another reason that they all come to me: trust. They know that they can come to me, and everything will be kept completely confidential. I try not to choose sides unless somebody is being a jackass, and I don't spill secrets unless someone is in real physical or emotional danger. Deprogramming Bobby has pretty much been the extent of my interference so far, and that's only because he tends to run off at the mouth so often. On the other hand, I've also had to keep the other students…as well as Logan from killing him a few times. That's my role at the Institute: healer, helper, peacemaker and counselor.
So who heals the healer? Who counsels the counselor when she needs a shoulder to cry on?
There's nobody…there's nobody at all, because I'm all alone. Because I won't let them see me cry. Because I won't let them see me vulnerable, not even Kurt, and he's the closest thing I have to a 'best friend'. He worries about me, and I shut him out because I don't want him, or anyone else, to see how much this is killing me. I shut them all out, and I'm all alone…
I swear, I am such a pain in the ass sometimes…
She looked at the phone on
the end table in the living room. The answering machine light was blinking
rapidly 5 times, indicating that there were at least 5 new messages.
Probably telemarketers…God give me strength…
She picked up the phone
and hit the messages button. The first one came on:
12:45 p.m: Misha, it is Kurt…please call the Institute when you get in, please?
2:13pm: Michelle, it's Jean…could you please call us here? We didn't want to bother you at the hospital. We're all worried…we haven't heard from you in a few days. Touch base, okay, kiddo?
"I hate it when she calls me that" muttered Michelle under
her breath. "Okay…next message…"
5:15 pm: Misha, it's me again…Call me, okay? Even if it's late, just…call, okay? Bye.
5:20: Doll, this is Logan…CALL…THE…INSTITUTE…I SWEAR, the little squirrel is going to drive us all crazy. He's wearin' a hole in the carpet and I'm going to wring his neck if he asks why ya haven't called in 5 days one…more… time. Oh, and if we don't hear from ya tonight, we're all drivin' out t' the city tomorrow to give ya the ass-kicking that you deserve…especially me!
She stared at the phone
for a moment and said,"Why, Logan, I'm…touched. Slightly offended, but touched.
Okay, well then…next message…"
5:23 pm: Shelly, girl…I'm sorry…that message was, man I can't believe I'm fucking saying this…that last message was insensitive, and I'm a jackass. You take all the time you need, but I tell ya…you take too long and yer Elf friend is gonna be minus a tail…Just, um, yeah…take all the time you need. Whatever, okay? Bye.
"Did Logan just admit he's
insensitive? And is this a good thing or a bad thing? Damn, it has been one
fucked up day. I should call, if any thing just to spare Kurt a sudden and
violent tailectomy…"
I should call…let them know I'll be home soon…in a few days at the most. I should call…but I don't know how to tell them without crying…I never let them see me cry…
I should call…
She picked up the phone.
I should call…
She dialed the number.
What will I say?
"Hello…"
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Okay…that's the end of part 2. The next segment is, I think, going to
be told from the other student's p.o.v. I'll have to play around a bit…Read and
review, please!