Disclaimer: I own nothing…Marvel owns the world (and the X-Men in all their incarnations). I am so poor that if they sue me they will only get a bill for my tuition.
By the way, I own Maya, who has requested that I not bring her into Mary Sue territory by giving her such great hair (for those of you who read the last installment). She will heretofore be having a bad hair day in nearly all episodes, will be mercilessly subjected to the elements of heat, humidity, cold, wind, rain, freezing rain, raining sleet, sleeting snow, snowing rain, raining cats, cats on a hot tin roof, and the occasional flying iguana. If she bitches anymore, I will arrange to have her hair mercilessly chopped off so that she looks like Keri Russell during the second (and third) seasons of Felicity. Not that I watch Felicity, but…oh, hell…
I made a boo-boo in my first installment. Kitty is supposed to be a cute, perky sophomore, not a freshman. I decided to play God and age everybody by about a year. Why? Because I'm the author, that's why! Mwahahahahha…ahem.
Warning: My universe is strange. It contains elements of both the Comicverse and the TVverse. For some ungodly reason, I haven't seen the movie yet; otherwise I would probably throw some Movieverse into this, too, just to really confuse the hell out of everyone who deigns to read this story. This is my first stab at creative writing with established characters and I'm just doing this for fun. I included Hank and Bobby because…well, they don't get enough story time, and they were always my favorite characters when I was growing up. Criticism is appreciated (please don't make me cry though, I'm sensitive), praise is even better, and both will make me a better writer. Enough said, let's get on with the story!
The End of the Matter, Part 3
Late December, New York City
Michelle ran down the
sidewalk, breath puffing like smoke in the chill December air. It was 6 o'clock
in the morning, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, she felt like
running. She often compared running to flying because of the freedom that it
allowed. She had often watched Warren and Ororo fly around the grounds at
Graymalkin Lane, and the expression of pure joy that they wore when in flight
directly mirrored hers when she ran. Well, on a normal day, it did. There was
no joy in the run today. Her lungs were burning; her feet ached with each
pounding step, and she had a side stitch that would not quit. She
managed to run only a half-mile before she stopped, wheezing and gasping for
breathe.
Well, what did you expect dumb ass? You've been living on caffeine and ramen noodles for the last 6 days! Your electrolytes are shot, you have the energy of a turtle, and besides, you've racked up enough sleep debt to file for Chapter 11. Did you really expect to get out here after the week you've had and have a good run? If Logan were here, he'd be laughing his ass off, bless his flinty little heart.
She paused in front of a
storefront and looked at her reflection for a brief moment. She looked like
hell. The stress of the past week was beginning to take its toll. There were
dark circles on her eyes; her hair hadn't seen a pick or diffuser in two
days…or three. There were hollows under her cheekbones that spoke of too many
missed or inadequate meals at a time when she was at the rock bottom of the
biorhythm chart.
God, I look like a crackhead…
She turned around and headed
back for home, tears freezing on her cheeks as she ran away, and the falling
snow was her only witness.
She made her way back to the
brownstone at a slow trot. Half way there, she slowed to a walk, massaging her
aching side, gasping for breath. She thought about the phone conversation she'd
had with the Professor and Kurt last night and was immediately thankful that it
was after Christmas. A lot of the students, the ones who had contact with their
families, were visiting relatives. The only ones left in the Mansion were Jean,
Kurt, Scott, Rogue, Bobby, Hank, the Professor, and, of course…Logan. Jeannie had just come back from her parent's
home; Hank had scientific stuff to work on. Logan was…well, Logan. And then
there were Kurt, Rogue, Scott, and Bobby. They were the ones who didn't have
families to go home to, or had families that were too far away, or had families
who didn't want them home. Like Bobby…
Bobby Drake…resident
mischief-maker and general screw-up, he made Kurt look like Mr. Responsibility,
which was saying a lot. Actually, they were usually partners in crime, 'porting and freezing stuff all over the place.
She'd never been able to get Bobby to talk about his Dad, how he didn't want a
son who was…different. Really, she's never even tried. She knew it was a
sensitive subject with Bobby, and who could blame him? Still, he'd never
brought it up, and she never pressed him for it, even though she knew it
bothered him a whole lot, especially around the holidays. It would be like prying into someone's
personal business when they didn't want you there, like some adults tries to
do. Not the best approach when dealing with a 16-year-old boy who could turn
you into a Popsicle. And besides, she didn't operate that way. Anybody that
talked to her did it of his or her own free will, and she rarely ever did any
talking back. She just did the listening and tried to offer insight when it was
relevant or needed, when she could actually do something to help…
But not to Bobby…I always
seem to let Bobby down. I always seem to dismiss him or push him away because
he's such a… God, I hate it when I'm like this. Introspection is not my
friend, and it always hits me at the worst time. It reminds me that I have more
than a few bad personality traits, and that I've, as Logan likes to remind me,
"fucked up big time" on occasion. Why do I do this to myself? Oh, yeah…'to err
is human' as Hank likes to quote. "You learn from your mistakes"… blah blah
blah…"You're not perfect"…blah blah blah." There's no "I" in team"…blah blah.
"You are not progressing as well as I thought, you need to focus more" blah
blah blah... Oh I need to stop this, or I'm going to depress myself into a coma…Anyway,
at least no one is coming out to see me today. I think I convinced the
Professor that I was fine last night…
Then again…he is a
telepath…
And there is the whole
Kurt factor…I don't think I convinced him that I'm doing okay. Now how
backwards is that? The Professor smiles gently and tells me he's glad I'm doing
well, sorry that my Gram isn't, and that I should really get some sleep because
I sound beat. The fuzzy elf, who has no psychic abilities whatsoever,
picks up on the way I'm feeling just through the sound of my voice and gives me
the third degree…
What a week…
She limped to the
brownstone, unlocked the door and practically crawled in the door. Shutting the
door with her foot, she turned and locked all three locks, one of which was a
deadbolt. This wasn't a bad neighborhood, but it wasn't the best in NYC either,
so why take chances.
Uhh…I need a shower.
Better feed the cats first…
Felix and Oscar, the two
tabby cats who shared the apartment with Saril, came running at the sound of
the door. They stopped short, cocked their heads in an almost identical
fashion, and just looked at her.
Sorry, guys, I'm not Mommy…wish she was here, too, though.
The cats moved over to her
and began to rub their bodies around her legs, purring all the while. Then they
untangled themselves, turned and began making their way to the kitchen,
occasionally looking back over their shoulders to see if she was coming.
Just like a couple of guys…all they need is food, sex, and the occasional scratch behind the ears to keep them happy. Speaking of food…
She wandered into the
kitchen just behind the cats and got coffee started. Then she put some food
into the cats' dish. They immediately went over and started eating, purring
contentedly all the while. She poured herself a cup of coffee, added milk and
sugar, and then sat down on the floor a few feet away from the cats. Felix, who
was the oldest and biggest, moved out of his customary spot at the bowl by
Oscar, sauntered over and began rubbing his head on her knee. She placed the
cat in her lap and began scratching him behind the ears, which got some
outboard motor worthy purring out of Felix. She sighed, looked down at the cat,
then at his brother and said, "Yeah, old boy, I miss her too. What am I going
to do with you once your Mommy is gone? I can't take you back home with me, and
I can't bear the thought of taking you to the APL…what are we all going to do
once she's gone?"
The now-sleepy cat yawned,
stretched and leaped out of her arms, apparently choosing food over affection
for the moment. Just like a cat, priorities first…He rejoined his
brother at the food bowl, which was situated in a patch of weak December
sunlight. She took her coffee cup and moved beside the bowl, looking at the two
beloved felines, and fought the lump that was forming in her throat. I will
not cry…I will not cry…oh to hell with it…Sitting in a patch of warm
sunlight next to her grandmother's cats, she began to cry…
Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy, aged
twenty-something, sat in his car in front of the old brownstone apartment and
checked his watch.
8 a.m. She should be
awake by now, and hopefully willing to see visitors. Kurt seemed to think that
she was in some distress from the sound of things last night. Not that I can
blame her, what she is going through right now must be unbearable. Still, it
troubles me that the young lady isn't coming to us for help when she obviously
needs it. Not that I expected her to…if there is a soul on earth who
needs to take her own advice, it is Michelle "Maya" Chen, Psychic Healer and
resident Empath of the Xavier Institute.
Kurt had stayed home this
morning, saying that he would visit at a more reasonable hour, after Hank had
been there to talk some sense into her stubborn little brain. He had told Hank
that he hoped he would be able to get through to her, that she had sounded
really bad, no matter how hard she had tried to convince him otherwise. There
had been an urgency to the boy's voice and a look in his eyes that told Hank
that the young mutant was really, truly worried…
Well…Kurt is probably her
closest friend among the teenage set. They look out for each other, support
each other, and generally have a very open and honest relationship .She helps
him through his relationship troubles with Katherine, and normally he keeps her
from going crazy, usually by making her laugh. He knows her better than anyone
at the Institute, even the Professor. She is always the one who is rushing to
their rescue, whether it is to mend physical wounds…or emotional ones. It never
fails to amaze me how willing she is to drop everything to help one of the
other children when they are in need. The fact that all of them, even the
girls, trust her implicitly says volumes for her character. Of course, given
the nature of her talents and how directly they are tied into her physiology
and immune system, perhaps it is a good thing that she is so willing to help
others; she would be a walking zombie if she didn't. That or she would wind up
doing a slow dance on a ledge… perish the thought.
Hank genuinely liked
Michelle. She was kind, loving, and affectionate, but would tell you without
hesitation if you were being an ass. Honest, studious, and a most gifted young
healer, she was acutely aware of physical injury or disease, pain and human
suffering, and had an interest in pursuing the healing arts after her
graduation in a year or so. Hank had done everything in his power to foster
that interest, and she had spent countless hours in the lab with him over the
last nine months rather than pursuing more age appropriate activities, like
dating.
"Oh but, Hank," she had teased during one lab session, "Why would I want to go out on a date with a guy who won't appreciate me when I could hang out with a very cool platonic friend who does? Trust me, I'd rather study the molecular structure of earthworms than date some of the guys in my school."
"But, Maya, dear…you know
I just worry that you are throwing your childhood away. What about some of the
young men at the Institute?"
"Mmmm…let's see, Scott is taken, Warren is as good as taken, Kurt is almost taken. Evan isn't interested in anything but basketball and computers, and Bobby is a bit freaked out by me." She had then sighed dramatically, and batting her eyelashes, said, " Well… I guess that leaves Logan…"
She had said that last
bit with a wry smile, and he couldn't pass up the opportunity…
"You and Logan, eh? A
veritable match made in heaven. Why, you could psychoanalyze him and then he
could beat you up in the Danger Room in record time."
She had burst out
laughing then, and said, "I forget, what is the current record? Isn't it
something like 33.2 seconds? I am afraid, my friend that I am not cut out for
fightin 'an' killin' thangs, as Rogue would say. The healer thing just gets in
the way. It drives Logan crazy. I just know it. He wants to turn me into a
lean, mean, killing machine and I just want to go play in the Med Lab. I swear,
I am going to drive that man into an early grave before the year is out."
So she kept herself as
chaste as a nun, and spent much of her free time in the lab with him. He
enjoyed her company and it was obvious that she felt very comfortable around
him, judging from her easy banter during their lab sessions. He had even found
himself wishing once or twice that she were a bit older than her nearly 17
years…
Don't go there, McCoy…besides what would she ever see in you? And the age thing is a bit, as Kitty would say, 'icky'. She needs a friend more than anything, not…something else.
8:15…time to go…
I hope she is alright…
I hope that I can get
through to her…
I hope…
He got out of the car.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
ringringring
What the heck? The phone? Michelle opened her eyes and looked around, trying
to find the source of the ringing. Blearily, she got to he feet, the sudden
movement making her head swim.
Ooh…I'm going to have to start taking Iron pills…don't want to get anemic and sick. That would seriously crimp my healing talent…bad thing to have happen when you've got Mystique's little posse running around causing injury and chaos at the high school…
She stretched out her back
and looked at the floor. The cats were gone and so was her coffee.
"Oh, great…I fell asleep on
the floor and the cats just totally take advantage of the situation. Perfect…"
ringringring
It wasn't the phone; instead
the sound was coming from the front doorbell. She looked at the clock on the
wall: 8:16 a.m.
Oh my…was I out that long?
She walked to the door
cautiously, and peered through the peephole, then sighed with relief when she
saw who was waiting outside. She threw all the locks, opened the door and said,
"Hank…"
"Michelle…it's good to see
you again."
"Mmm…thank you, it's good to
see you, too. Come in please…"
He did, following her into
the foyer, hanging his huge wool coat on the coat rack outside the living room.
She padded into the living room lightly, and Hank found himself envious as
always of her native grace.
Then again, if I were barely over 100 lbs and 5'1" tall, I 'd be stealthy, too!
Saying that he was a big guy
was the understatement of the year. He was easily 12 inches taller than
Michelle, and outweighed her by a good 200 lbs, none of which was fat. His
oversized hands could crush all of the bones in her frail, delicate ones with
minimal effort. Not that he would do that, of course. He was a man of science
and medicine. A healer like her, but without the mutant ability to heal by
touch, instead he used his intellect and medical training to assist her when
necessary. He would only act in violence if one of his own were being
threatened, which included everyone at the Institute, even Logan.
"Have a seat, make yourself
comfortable. Oh, and watch out for the cats."
"The cats?"
"Yeah, they're highly
caffeinated right now" She grimaced slightly at his puzzled expression, and
said, "Trust me, you don't want to know."
"I'll take your word for
it", said the large man in the armchair. Then he sighed and said, "So,
truthfully, Michelle…how are you?"
It's the story that never
ends! Next installment…deep philosophy, religious beliefs, Twinkie consumption,
caffeinated cats, apologies, tears, and a death in the family (that would be
Michelle's grandmother). I may be able to end this soon! Read and review,
please. Input is wonderful. To all of those who have reviewed this series, so
far…thank you.
-Ring