Hello. Before you sit down to read my little creation, I figured I better give some information.
First off, the story follows a few days after my last written work "The First Step." It's just a story that follows afterwards. Reading "First Step" might help those of you who aren't familiar with what I've done to the X-Men (all really minor changes).
Next, I utilize Longshot's child-like innocence a lot. It's basically the reason the story works in the first place. Now some people might complain that over time his innocence would simply fade away and be replaced by a more adult attitude (hence his ability to lead a rebellion against whichever Mojo is being tyrannical). But I feel his innocence never really quite goes away. He may put it on a shelf while in the midst of a battle, but it comes right back out when he's not in major peril or needed to act like an adult. It is on that belief that I've based this story.
Finally, this story came to me while reading the ten-year anniversary book for Calvin and Hobbes. This story is intended to be a homage to the masterful stories told with pictures and dialoge bubbles. I really miss them.
So with that out of the way...
ON WITH THE STORY!
DISCLAIMER: The X-Men belong to Marvel Comics and are being used without permission. I am making no money off of writing this, so please don't sue. (College expenses being what they are, I have no money anyway.) Part of the concept of this story belongs to Bill Watterson, and also, this story is a homage to his enlightening work. Finally, Dakota belongs to me (lock, stock, and barrel).
Feedback is adored and welcomed. Also, if anybody wishes to archive this just notify me before you do.
Suddenly, There's a Valley - Part 1
Beverly McIntyre
The Storm-created bubble of warm weather encapsulated a bit more land than just the grounds of Xavier's Institute of Higher Learning. It actually reached to the far edge of a copse of woods that currently had a curious, blond haired man poking about inside of it. He was lifting up logs as his crystal blue eyes peered underneath. Satisfied that there was a requisite amount of squiggly little things wiggling around, he set the decaying log back down and turned to the nearest tree. With four-fingered hands, he climbed up the tree until he found the perfect perch for him to look out across the land. Settling down on a branch that didn't even bend under his slight weight, he shielded his eyes from the sun with a delicate hand and surveyed the surrounding landscape.
Longshot had been told that today was the first day of a new year. He had taken it upon himself to find out what had changed from the last day of last year to today. To his logic something had to be different. He was on his own personal quest to find out what was new.
So far, he had found nothing different. Nothing had changed since he had been in this very strand of trees yesterday. He found it kind of baffling. Storm did say today was a brand new start. With a brand new start comes brand new things. So with very discerning eyes, he scoured the landscape for any signs of something new.
He was starting to lose hope of finding anything new when his sharp eyes picked up a small, black, and furry lump laying near the road that led to Xavier's estate. Now there's something new! Curious, Longshot got down out of the tree the quickest way possible: jumping straight off of the branch. Now, if a normal person had done that same foolhardy stunt, he, or she, would have been seriously hurt from jumping off of a branch thirty feet in the air. But Longshot was no normal person.
He was an extra-dimensional being who was one of the most agile people on the planet. He also was the luckiest. With that being the case, he landed effortlessly at the base of the tree and jogged away.
While crossing over to the curious lump, he went right into an area that the balloon of good weather did not cover. The sudden drop in temperature, while fascinating, chilled him to the bone. Rather than linger in the cold, Longshot sped up until he crossed right back into an area of warm weather. He slowed to a stop when he reached his objective. Kneeling down next to it, he inspected the little creature.
Longshot recognized the lump of fur as a puppy, and it didn't look too good. Its small eyes were screwed shut in pain. A lot of its black fur was matted with ice-cold mud. There was a small gash running down the side of one of its back legs. The only relief to Longshot's hearts was that the little puppy was still breathing, if only barely.
Poor thing. It's so young. What did it do to deserve this? He carefully reached down to pick up the little puppy but abruptly stopped before he even touched it. I'd better not move it. I might hurt it even more. I'll just go get Dakota, he'll know what to do.
Within two heartbeats, Longshot was on his feet and racing toward the mansion. He went through a couple of areas where Storm's bubble of warm weather was not quite complete and therefore a little chilly, but he didn't notice. He had more important things on his mind. He had a life to save.
Storm was in the kitchen, steeping a cup of tea for herself, when Dakota came plodding into the room. His shoulders were slumped. His black hair slightly messed. His brown eyes were dull and had slight bags under them. He looked entirely drained of energy, which was quite the opposite of the night before when he and Logan had come home from some sort of party energeticly singing at the top of their lungs. It might have been fine except both were very drunk and it was four o'clock in the morning.
Dakota glanced to his left and saw an overturned bucket on the floor. He looked back at Storm who was standing across the room, which suddenly seemed like fifty miles away. He plodded over to the bucket and plopped himself down atop it, deciding to rest there so he could get the energy back to make it across the room. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
Storm continued to watch him for a moment, until he spoke up. "Y'know something, Storm? There is something Chu-XAVIER left out of his files on Rogue."
The leader of the X-Men caught Dakota's near slip of his friendly name for the professor. Storm highly doubted that Xavier liked being called "Chuckles" in public.
"Oh? And what is that?" ,she asked while removing the tea bag from her tea. She took a sip and found the flavor strength to be satisfactory as Dakota let out a long sigh and opened his eyes.
"She's oddly vindictive when you wake her up at four in the morning."
"Rough lesson today?" Dakota was working with Rogue, in the form of daily lessons, to help her get her absorbtion powers under control without any mechanical assistance.
"No, just a real long one. I wish she hadn't been so adamant about making up for the day I gave her off yesterday."
"Well, I should warn you then that Hank and Bobby are planning some dire fate to befall you for also waking them up."
"Just for me?"
"They know better than to do anything to Logan."
"Oh, yippeee." Dakota slumped even farther down on the bucket. Storm knew he had to be tired. He had nearly gotten two hours of sleep when Rogue came pounding on his door, ready for today's lessons. Storm tried to hide her smile behind another sip of tea when she remembered the picture of Rogue carrying him outside over her shoulder with him grumbling the entire way. "Are you planning some great revenge, too?"
Storm set down her cup of tea. "No, I believe Rogue, Hank, and Bobby shall torment you enough for all of us."
"Well, on that note, I think I'll just go back to bed. Two hours of-"
"DAKOTA! DAKOTA!" Longshot came tearing into the kitchen. He raced over top his friend, grabbed him by the hand, and tried to drag Dakota bodily out of the kitchen. Dakota, being nearly two times Longshot in weight, didn't budge. "C'mon. There's a little puppy out there that needs your help."
Dakota looked up into his friend's worried eyes and sighed. He nodded once as Longshot let go of his hand. He slowly got up from the bucket and jogged out after an already retreating Longshot. Storm, curious as to why her former compatriot was so worried, followed shortly after.
"The puppy's over here! Hurry!" Longshot motioned furiously for his friend to hurry up. Why is he being so slow? Dakota sped up at Longshot's impassioned plea, despite the protest from his sleep-deprived body. He slowed to a walk as he got closer to the small lump lying at Longshot's feet. He stopped in front of it and crouched down to inspect it as Storm came up behind him. Longshot bent over to watch what Dakota was doing, breathing hard from his sprint to and from the mansion. Dakota looked the young dog over then looked up at his friend.
"Buddy, I don't think there's much we can do for her. She looks pretty bad." Longshot's eyes started too mist over, and Dakota felt his heart sink into his stomach. He hated seeing his happy-go-lucky companion like this. Damn, I'm a big softie. "But that doesn't mean we're not going to try. Go back to the mansion and get a shoe-box and some clean rags."
"Right," Longshot snapped as he stood up and wiped a hand across his eyes. He turned to run back down the road, but Storm laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"We will get to the mansion faster if I move us along." With a controlled column of wind, she picked herself and Longshot off the ground and flew the both of them back to the mansion. Dakota watched them until they were out of sight behind some trees. He rocked back on his heels, shaking his head.
"This little gal isn't going to make it. I hate when these things happen." Dakota looked down at the little puppy. "...you can tell I'm in desperate need of some sleep when I start talking to myself..."
Longshot watched as Dakota placed the puppy in the shoe-box with almost infinite care. He carefully tucked a white dish towel that Storm had donated to the cause around the little bundle of fur. The puppy let out a soft whine and twitched ever-so slightly. Dakota paused to let it settle back down and then carefully picked up the box.
"Well, I guess this is all we can do for her now." Longshot reached out for the box, and Dakota carefully placed it in his hands. "The best we can do is keep her warm and safe."
"W-will she get better?" Dakota looked at his friend and wanted to tell him the truth. He wanted to say that he thought there was no way that the puppy would live to see tomorrow. But Longshot didn't look like he needed to hear the truth. He looked like he needed a ray of hope. Dakota opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Storm, who had flown herself and Longshot back from the mansion, gently put an arm around Longshot's shoulders.
"We will keep her in one of the spare rooms and put out some food and water," she said softly.
"But what do puppies eat?"
"Uh, well, they eat dog food," Dakota said, scratching his head. "But I don't think we can go out to a store and get some since today's a holiday." Longshot looked dejectedly at the little bundle in the box. "No, wait. Seven-Elevens never close. I can send somebody out to get some canned food and maybe a bottle to give her some milk. Normally, I'd suggest tablescraps, but this is Drake's week to cook. We don't want to make her any worse than she is."
Longshot let out a weak laugh as he and Storm turned to go back to the mansion with their precious cargo. Dakota watched them disappear around a bend when he realized that they were heading in the same direction he needed to go in. His bed was, after all, that way. Slowly, he followed them.
Longshot paced back and forth in the foyer, impatiently waiting for Rogue and Joseph to get back from Seven-Eleven. He felt that precious seconds were slipping through his hands now. The puppy had to live. She just had to. He had to have found her for some reason. He highly doubted it was so she could die.
Why don't they just hurry up? Don't they know a life hangs in the balance? Longshot whirled and charged toward the stairs. Dakota will know what to do. He went up two steps before stopping suddenly. He remembered Dakota was trying to catch up on his sleep and did not want to be disturbed. Slightly put out, Longshot slowly turned and went back to the foyer to pace.
After a few more seconds of pacing, Longshot decided to go check up on the puppy once more. He made halfway there when he remembered that he had already annoyed Beast and Dr. Reyes by his frequent visits within a span of five minutes. He turned around, deciding not to annoy the two doctors he had guilted into trying to save the little puppy's life. He walked back to the foyer to wait for Rogue and Joseph's return.
Just as he arrived back at the foyer, Longshot heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle pulling to a stop in front of the mansion. He scrambled over to the front doors and flung them open. Rogue and Joseph were climbing out of the black van with a couple plastic sacks as Longshot rushed at them.
"Hey sugah, we got the stuff ya wanted." Without even a word of thanks, Longshot snatched the sacks from both of them and bounded right back into the mansion. He disappeared inside as he rushed toward the kitchen. Joseph looked over at Rogue with a raised eyebrow.
"Not even a thank you?"
"Well, sometimes when Longshot thinks somethin's important, he forgets his manners." Rogue shrugged as she walked away. "He'll remember t'thank us later."
"But why would the life of one puppy be so important to him?" ,Joseph asked as he jogged to catch up with her.
"That's why he's so special sometimes. He cares."
Elizabeth "Betsy" Braddock fumed as she moved down the hallway. Of all the indignant... She new the relationship between herself and Angel was starting to cool down, but that gave him no right to snap at her. She had been tending to his every need faithfully: getting him food and beverage when he was hungry or thirsty, wheeling him around in the wheelchair that Hank and Dr. Reyes had gotten for him with a little help from Dakota, tried to keep him as comfortable as possible, scratched his leg when his cast itched, and so much more. She had basically waited on him hand and foot. She would not normally do that for anyone, but she figured with their shared experience at the hands of the Destruction Crew that she could make an exception this time. So with all that said and done, there was absolutely no reason why Warren Worthington had any right to tell her to basically bugger off, especially right in front of Hank and Reyes. [Of course, she was oblivious to the fact that eternally being around Warren and asking him if he needed anything got rather quickly on his nerves. He had just hit the breaking point the last time she asked, which was, coincidently, right when Beast and Reyes walked into the room.]
Betsy sped right past an open door and came to an abrupt halt about three steps afterwards. She slowly turned back around and walked back to the doorway, slightly confused by what she had seen out of the corner of her eye. She looked into the room to confirm she wasn't seeing rage-induced images.
Nothing had changed in the span of the four heartbeats it took her to turn around and look back in the room. Longshot knelt in the middle of a barren room with his back to the doorway. He hunched slightly forward as if he was intently watching something on the floor directly in front of him. There was an uncovered window to his left that let in a stream of light that illuminated the area around him. The light that poured in was soft and made his blond hair seem to glow with a golden angelic halo. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought that Longshot was praying and she had just stumbled upon a very pious scene.
"Longshot?" Her beckoning voice was not very loud; it was as if she did not want to break into whatever was happening in the room. But apparently Longshot had heard her because he quietly got to his feet, leaving a baby bottle full of milk next to a box on the floor. He slowly turned to face her, and when she got a good look at the state he was in, something odd happened: her heart nearly broke.
Longshot stood in front of her, the picture of sorrow. His eyes were red-rimmed and pleading with her to do something. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. Betsy sensed that his surface thoughts dwelt heavily on the small puppy lying in the shoe-box behind him.
"It won't eat," he mumbled dejectedly. "Beast said she won't live much longer if she doesn't eat. I gave her some food, but she's not eating it." Betsy was beside herself with what to do. If she had been the same person she had been when Longshot was an active member of the X-Men, she would have gathered him in her arms and told him everything would work out. But she had been through so many changes since the X-Men had been outlaws living in the Australia. She wasn't quite sure what should be done anymore. Maybe I should get someone who does know what to do. Betsy reached out telepathically to Storm and told her that Longshot was having an emotional problem. Storm responded with a quick "I'll be there in a second," and Betsy severed the link. A few excruciating minutes passed. Longshot had not become any happier, nor had Storm showed up. Where is she coming from? The other side of the grounds? Longshot looked like the most miserable man on the planet.
Impulsively, Betsy crossed the few steps that stood between the two of them and awkwardly put her arms around him. What am I doing? I'm not the same soft woman I was when he knew me. But that was beside the point when Longshot innocently put his arms around her and buried his face in her purple hair. A few hot tears made it through her hair and wet her skin. She felt him trying to draw comfort from her presence there and try to push back the anguished thoughts that pervaded his mind. Being in such close proximity to him, she almost felt as bad about the puppy as he did.
"It will be all right, Longshot." It was hard for Betsy to say those words, but she forced them out any way. No matter what changes she had been through, Longshot was still her dear friend. She held him closer, letting him take whatever comfort he needed from her. "It will be all right."
The rest of the day, the X-Men tried to keep Longshot busy enough to at least keep him partially distracted from the puppy. In part, they succeeded. His thoughts only drifted toward the puppy when there was a pause in the action. Everyone chipped in to help in one way or another. Reyes let him tag along when she went to check up on Angel. Storm had him help with the watering of the few plants she had in her room. Betsy kept him distracted the best way she knew how by letting him join in with her sparring with Logan. When Dakota got up from his six-hour-long nap, he and Maggott went digging through Dakota's boxes of stuff to find Longshot's favorite video and a V.C.R. While the two of them were downstairs hooking up the V.C.R., Hank and Bobby let him help with short-sheeting Dakota's bed with a little toothpaste thrown into the mix. Rogue and Joseph made up some popcorn for his movie-viewing. They even let him pour the kernels into the pan. The only two people who didn't help were Marrow and Cannonball, both of whom disappeared earlier to visit Calisto and Meltdown, respectively. When Dakota had popped in the video, everybody came into the rec room to watch _Alladin_ with Longshot. [Cartoons never bothered Longshot because he knew that they were fake. And if somebody got hit over his head, there were these neat little stars that showed up.]
After the movie was over, it had gotten a bit late and everybody was pretty tired from trying to keep Longshot busy all day. As everybody filed off to bed, Longshot walked to the room with the puppy in it. He quietly tip-toed over to the shoe-box and knelt down beside it. He knew his friends had been trying to keep him from thinking about her, but it never quite worked. The poor, little puppy was always hanging around in the back of his mind. He leaned over and tucked the dish towel more tightly around her. He leaned over and kissed her on top of her furry little head.
"Don't die, little puppy," he whispered softly as he got up. "It wouldn't be very grateful of you to break either of my hearts." He slowly backed out of the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He slipped down the hallway then up the stairs to his room.
He went into his room and shut the door behind him. He stripped down to his underwear and got into bed. As he slipped into the realm of dream, a small flicker of hope brightened inside of him, and in his dreams he was playing fetch with a little, black puppy.
