Whoo-hoo! I finally finished the chapter! Wowie, this thing is long! Well, at least, it seems that way to me, 'cause it took me so long to write. Ooh, I'm so proud of myself, I'm not even going to proofread (or is that because I'm lazy? The world may never know...)! Please forgive my sillyness, I'm dreadfully excited right now! Okay, without further ado, here is Chapter Four.
***
Chapter Four: Discussion and Progress
"Excuse me, girls. Greta, I must speak with you."
Kitty, Greta, and Rogue all looked up from what they had been looking at: Rogue's glove collection. Greta had been interested, and Kitty had insisted that Rogue take them out. To tell the truth, it was quite an impressive collection.
_Now there's something you don't see every day,_ Rogue thought, looking at the Professor. He was right in the doorway of the room. _When does the *Professor* come down *this* hallway?_ Greta was looking at the Professor with a blank expression. She glanced back at the two roommates before responding.
"Okay," she said quietly. Rogue and Kitty watched as the Professor led her out of the room and down the hall.
_Now I wonder what *that's* all about._
***
Greta looked at the Professor expectantly. They were in his study; she had taken a seat in the most normal-looking chair she could find. She didn't think she was ready for one of those overstuffed armchairs yet. She rubbed the edge of her eye absently as she waited for the Professor to begin. Which he did.
"What do you think of the others in the institute so far, Greta?" She shrugged. "And your room?" Another shrug.
_Why don't you just get to the point?_
"Alright, I will." She jumped a little. She'd forgotten about the mind-reading thing. "We have a great deal to talk about, Greta, so I might as well just get to the first of three points." He took a deep breath. "Greta, I'm concerned about your education. Would you mind telling me what kind of schooling you have had thus far?"
"Don't-" she paused, not used to speaking with someone who was actually *concerned* about her. "Don't you already know?"
"Yes, I do, but it would be better if you told me yourself, I think."
There was another pause. She had never *really* admitted how little she knew about things. And besides, how did she know he wasn't going to tell everyone else?
"Greta, you can trust me. Everything said within this room will remain confidential."
Again with the mind-reading thing. This was going to take some getting used to. She took a breath: "I don't really know anythin'. I mean, I been livin' on the streets. How do you expect a girl with no home to sign up for school?" _How do you expect a girl with no *name* to sign up for school?_
Xavier sighed, and steepled his fingers (Note: Is it just me, or does he do that a lot?). Of course he knew that she would never have gone to social services; she would have been terrified if they had found out anything about her.
"I'm assuming that you don't know how to read?" She shook her head.
"I told you, I don't know anythin'. I don't know how to count, or nothin'. Hell, I hardly even know how to talk."
Xavier looked at her intensely. She faltered a bit under his gaze.
_I'll have to have a talk with the other recruits. I don't want them insulting her inadvertantly._
"There's a teacher here, Hank McCoy. I'll ask him if he'd like to tutor you. You seem like a bright young girl; I'm sure you'll learn the basics quickly, and from there it is only a few more steps up to the high school level." Greta showed very little reaction to what he had said.
She didn't know what to think. Greta had always been indifferent about learning books and crap like that. After all, what did it matter to her? She couldn't use it to defend herself from other people.
_I'll think about that later,_ she told herself.
"What's the second point?"
The Professor's eyes widened. He had probably been expecting a larger response to that. She cursed herself mentally.
"I told you earlier, Greta, that this was an institute for young mutants. Did the other people here show you their powers?"
"They told me about them."
"I, and the other adults here, work with each of the other students on helping them control their powers. More than a few times a week, the students are helped to better understand the powers they have, so they can begin to use them to defend themselves. You see, everyone here belongs to a group called the X-Men." Greta's eyes widened. She had heard some pretty weird rumors about some people calling themselves X-Men. Of course, she had always thought of them as the Ex-Men, and had puzzled over why people wouldn't want to call themselves people. Now she realized that it had to stand for something.
"What does the name mean?"
The Professor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The name stands for two things, Greta. One being the X-gene, which is the gene in a person's body that makes them a mutant." Okay, she didn't know what *that* meant. The Professor didn't seem to notice, and moved on: "It also stands for the first letter of my last name. Any other questions?"
A new thought occurred to Greta. "Do I have to join them?" The Professor's expression never changed, but Greta could detect mild amusement in his eyes.
"No, you don't *have* to join them, Greta. You will not be forced to do anything. However, you may join them if you *wish.* What I was trying to convey was that you will also have trainings such as those of the other students should you choose to stay here."
_Whoa. Wait a minute. *Not* stay here?! No way. No way, no-how._ Now that she was off the streets, she most definitely did *not* want to go back.
Xavier decided to change the subject. "The third and final topic I wanted to bring up is that of your past." At this Greta paled visibly, and Xavier could feel her mind pushing away from the subject. She did *not* want to talk about it. Unfortunately, Xavier *needed* to know what she knew. It would be better to get it out into the open, anyway. "I know that you don't wish to speak about this, but it is imperative that I know. What do you know about your past, Greta?"
"Nothing." She was squeezing one thumb with the other in her lap. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. "No. I don't wanna talk about it." He could feel that her mind was clenched just as tightly.
Xavier continued calmly. "If you wish, I, or one of the teachers here, can attempt to find something out about where you came from." She was beginning to look very strained. "Beyond that, I won't pry any further if you don't want me to."
All her muscles relaxed. Just like that. Xavier sighed deeply, and leaned back into his wheelchair. "One of the teachers here is waiting outside the door, Greta. She will be taking you to talk about your powers. Thank you for speaking with me." He watched as she stood up, looked over her shoulder at him one last time, and peeked through the door before exiting the study.
_This is going to take a lot of work._
***
There was a woman with white hair waiting outside in hall for Greta. She smiled warmly at her as Greta peeked cautiously through a crack in the door. Greta stepped through and looked up at her, thinking: _She *must* have dyed her hair that color. There's no *way* it's that way naturally._
"Hello, Greta. My name's Ororo Monroe. You can call me Ororo," she paused, that friendly smile still on her face. "Or Storm."
_Storm? What the- oh, it must have something to do with her powers. Either that, or she has really bad P.M.S._
"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Danger Room." Greta raised an eyebrow, causing Ororo's smile to widen.
_The 'Danger Room'? This doesn't sound good._
"Don't worry, that's just where we do our training sessions. I'll make sure you aren't in any *real* danger."
As they spoke, they headed toward an elevator at the end of the hallway. Stepping inside, Greta did a double-take as she saw the vast array of buttons.
"Does, um..."
"What is it, Greta?"
"Are all-a these for different floors?" Ororo just smiled, and pushed one of the Basement buttons. The elevator began to hum around them.
"Now, the Professor told me that your power had something to do with pressure. Is that right?"
"I dunno. All I know is, if I concentrate, I can float, like, a half a foot above the floor. Oh, and once, I, um, I pushed this real drunk guy away from me without touchin' 'im, but I dunno if that was because-a me, or because he was just so drunk he didn't know where he was goin'." Greta blinked, surprised at herself. She had never given that much information to someone she had just met. Ororo just smiled at her.
"Well, we're here." They stepped out of the elevator and headed down a very metallic hallway. Greta glanced about her in fascination. Then she spotted a huge set of double-doors emblazoned with an 'X'. She nearly stopped in her tracks.
_And I thought the *upstairs* was fancy._ Her eyes widened in shock as the doors opened at their approach. _Jesus H. Christ._ Their footsteps echoed as they stepped into the large, empty room. Greta stared around her and reminded herself to raise her expectations for the rest of the mansion.
"Well, why don't you show me this 'floating trick' that you told me about?" Ororo immediately regretted speaking so suddenly as the slight girl beside her twitched at the sound of her voice. She didn't actually jump; that was what intrigued Ororo about Greta: all of her motions were halfway. Her voice was barely above a whisper, although she seemed to think that she was talking at normal tones. And her features didn't seem to want to change position too much, since Ororo hadn't seen a look of extreme emotion on the girl yet. _Of course. This was what the Professor was warning me of when he said she is 'shy.'_ Ororo's focused on the teen in front of her. She seemed to be recovering from the slight shock, so Ororo prompted her again: "Well?"
"Okay," Greta whispered. The look of concentration on her face was, for her, extreme, as she 'lifted' herself up and took a few steps on the air. She looked to be about ten inches off the floor. Once she had stepped down, she remarked shyly: "Um, that kid Scott noticed before that I try ta walk when I'm...uh...floatin'. Maybe I should try to work on that, ya think?"
_Either her self-esteem is very low from her life on the street, or she's deliberately keeping herself down. We'll have to work on *that.*_ "No, Greta, I think it's just fine if you try to walk on the air. In fact, I think it's good. Many people have had the dream to do it, you're one of the lucky few who can."
Greta's eyes widened in a tiny way. She looked like she had a question about that, but whatever it was, she kept it to herself. "Uh, what next?"
Instead of responding, Ororo asked the computer for a small object, perhaps a wooden block. When it appeared Greta's eyes widened a little bit more. "Greta, I just have a question to ask you: what do you feel when you walk on the air?"
"Huh?"
"I noticed that you pointed your hands downward while you did it. What I'm asking, essentially, is what sort of *feeling* you get in your body when you use your power."
Greta thought for a second. "I feel this...tingle...in my wrists..." she started slowly. She looked up, and Ororo nodded for her to continue. "...and if I sorta...push it down into my hands...you know, the middle?" She pointed to her palm. Ororo nodded again. "And if I push it...if I push it out...toward the ground, you know? I can lift m'self up," she finished. She looked to Ororo for approval. She was nodding once more. _Does she know that she's doin' that?_
"I see what you're getting at. Tell me, when you 'pushed' that drunk away from you, did you feel the same thing?"
Greta furrowed her brow. "Come ta think of it, yeah. How come I never thought-a that?"
"You were confused, and probably shocked with yourself. It's no wonder you didn't want to muddle it over." Greta stored that in her head for further thought. "I'm thinking that perhaps you could use your powers to push other things besides yourself, Greta. And I'm wondering whether you could push that 'tingle' of yours further down from your wrists. What do you think?"
Greta shrugged, not really sure. "I dunno."
"Well, let's try it. Here, I'm going to hold this block for you-" Ororo walked over and picked up the rectangular block. "And I want you to try and push it off my hand without touching it. Can you do that?"
Greta shrugged again. "Okay." She walked up to Ororo, who was holding the block up at Greta's shoulder-level. Greta held up her hand, palm out, at the block. A look of extreme concentration was on her face as she focused on the tingle in her wrist. She pushed it out into her palm, then out of her palm toward the block. Holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she watched as the block on Ororo's hand shuddered a tiny bit, then started to move away from Greta's palm. She focused even harder, and the block toppled onto the floor. It took a moment for Greta to register what had happened.
Straightening out, she lowered her hand and looked at Ororo. Ororo was smiling even more than she had been before, and she looked like she was about to say something, but there was a sudden hiss from behind Greta, and they both looked to the double doors.
"Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" asked Evan, smiling sheepishly from the doorway. Greta felt her eyebrows lift the tiniest bit at the sight of the intruder. _Cut it out,_ she thought. _I don't want him *thinkin'* anythin'._
"What did you want, Evan?" Ororo seemed a little annoyed.
"I was just gonna ask if I could go to the movies with Kurt and Kitty. They're gonna go see this horror flick, and-"
"That's fine, Evan, but you're forgetting your manners." His eyebrow lifted, but then he seemed to realize his mistake.
"Sorry, Greta. Do you want to come too?"
***
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm not going to tell you what happens! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! Hee-hee-hee! That's right, you'll just have to review and find out. Oh, sometimes I can be so evil that I amaze myself!
So whaddaya think? Did enough happen in this chapter to satisfy your cravings (yes, that's right, my writing's addictive), or do I have to go even *further*? *Please* review!
***
Chapter Four: Discussion and Progress
"Excuse me, girls. Greta, I must speak with you."
Kitty, Greta, and Rogue all looked up from what they had been looking at: Rogue's glove collection. Greta had been interested, and Kitty had insisted that Rogue take them out. To tell the truth, it was quite an impressive collection.
_Now there's something you don't see every day,_ Rogue thought, looking at the Professor. He was right in the doorway of the room. _When does the *Professor* come down *this* hallway?_ Greta was looking at the Professor with a blank expression. She glanced back at the two roommates before responding.
"Okay," she said quietly. Rogue and Kitty watched as the Professor led her out of the room and down the hall.
_Now I wonder what *that's* all about._
***
Greta looked at the Professor expectantly. They were in his study; she had taken a seat in the most normal-looking chair she could find. She didn't think she was ready for one of those overstuffed armchairs yet. She rubbed the edge of her eye absently as she waited for the Professor to begin. Which he did.
"What do you think of the others in the institute so far, Greta?" She shrugged. "And your room?" Another shrug.
_Why don't you just get to the point?_
"Alright, I will." She jumped a little. She'd forgotten about the mind-reading thing. "We have a great deal to talk about, Greta, so I might as well just get to the first of three points." He took a deep breath. "Greta, I'm concerned about your education. Would you mind telling me what kind of schooling you have had thus far?"
"Don't-" she paused, not used to speaking with someone who was actually *concerned* about her. "Don't you already know?"
"Yes, I do, but it would be better if you told me yourself, I think."
There was another pause. She had never *really* admitted how little she knew about things. And besides, how did she know he wasn't going to tell everyone else?
"Greta, you can trust me. Everything said within this room will remain confidential."
Again with the mind-reading thing. This was going to take some getting used to. She took a breath: "I don't really know anythin'. I mean, I been livin' on the streets. How do you expect a girl with no home to sign up for school?" _How do you expect a girl with no *name* to sign up for school?_
Xavier sighed, and steepled his fingers (Note: Is it just me, or does he do that a lot?). Of course he knew that she would never have gone to social services; she would have been terrified if they had found out anything about her.
"I'm assuming that you don't know how to read?" She shook her head.
"I told you, I don't know anythin'. I don't know how to count, or nothin'. Hell, I hardly even know how to talk."
Xavier looked at her intensely. She faltered a bit under his gaze.
_I'll have to have a talk with the other recruits. I don't want them insulting her inadvertantly._
"There's a teacher here, Hank McCoy. I'll ask him if he'd like to tutor you. You seem like a bright young girl; I'm sure you'll learn the basics quickly, and from there it is only a few more steps up to the high school level." Greta showed very little reaction to what he had said.
She didn't know what to think. Greta had always been indifferent about learning books and crap like that. After all, what did it matter to her? She couldn't use it to defend herself from other people.
_I'll think about that later,_ she told herself.
"What's the second point?"
The Professor's eyes widened. He had probably been expecting a larger response to that. She cursed herself mentally.
"I told you earlier, Greta, that this was an institute for young mutants. Did the other people here show you their powers?"
"They told me about them."
"I, and the other adults here, work with each of the other students on helping them control their powers. More than a few times a week, the students are helped to better understand the powers they have, so they can begin to use them to defend themselves. You see, everyone here belongs to a group called the X-Men." Greta's eyes widened. She had heard some pretty weird rumors about some people calling themselves X-Men. Of course, she had always thought of them as the Ex-Men, and had puzzled over why people wouldn't want to call themselves people. Now she realized that it had to stand for something.
"What does the name mean?"
The Professor rubbed the bridge of his nose. "The name stands for two things, Greta. One being the X-gene, which is the gene in a person's body that makes them a mutant." Okay, she didn't know what *that* meant. The Professor didn't seem to notice, and moved on: "It also stands for the first letter of my last name. Any other questions?"
A new thought occurred to Greta. "Do I have to join them?" The Professor's expression never changed, but Greta could detect mild amusement in his eyes.
"No, you don't *have* to join them, Greta. You will not be forced to do anything. However, you may join them if you *wish.* What I was trying to convey was that you will also have trainings such as those of the other students should you choose to stay here."
_Whoa. Wait a minute. *Not* stay here?! No way. No way, no-how._ Now that she was off the streets, she most definitely did *not* want to go back.
Xavier decided to change the subject. "The third and final topic I wanted to bring up is that of your past." At this Greta paled visibly, and Xavier could feel her mind pushing away from the subject. She did *not* want to talk about it. Unfortunately, Xavier *needed* to know what she knew. It would be better to get it out into the open, anyway. "I know that you don't wish to speak about this, but it is imperative that I know. What do you know about your past, Greta?"
"Nothing." She was squeezing one thumb with the other in her lap. Her hands were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. "No. I don't wanna talk about it." He could feel that her mind was clenched just as tightly.
Xavier continued calmly. "If you wish, I, or one of the teachers here, can attempt to find something out about where you came from." She was beginning to look very strained. "Beyond that, I won't pry any further if you don't want me to."
All her muscles relaxed. Just like that. Xavier sighed deeply, and leaned back into his wheelchair. "One of the teachers here is waiting outside the door, Greta. She will be taking you to talk about your powers. Thank you for speaking with me." He watched as she stood up, looked over her shoulder at him one last time, and peeked through the door before exiting the study.
_This is going to take a lot of work._
***
There was a woman with white hair waiting outside in hall for Greta. She smiled warmly at her as Greta peeked cautiously through a crack in the door. Greta stepped through and looked up at her, thinking: _She *must* have dyed her hair that color. There's no *way* it's that way naturally._
"Hello, Greta. My name's Ororo Monroe. You can call me Ororo," she paused, that friendly smile still on her face. "Or Storm."
_Storm? What the- oh, it must have something to do with her powers. Either that, or she has really bad P.M.S._
"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the Danger Room." Greta raised an eyebrow, causing Ororo's smile to widen.
_The 'Danger Room'? This doesn't sound good._
"Don't worry, that's just where we do our training sessions. I'll make sure you aren't in any *real* danger."
As they spoke, they headed toward an elevator at the end of the hallway. Stepping inside, Greta did a double-take as she saw the vast array of buttons.
"Does, um..."
"What is it, Greta?"
"Are all-a these for different floors?" Ororo just smiled, and pushed one of the Basement buttons. The elevator began to hum around them.
"Now, the Professor told me that your power had something to do with pressure. Is that right?"
"I dunno. All I know is, if I concentrate, I can float, like, a half a foot above the floor. Oh, and once, I, um, I pushed this real drunk guy away from me without touchin' 'im, but I dunno if that was because-a me, or because he was just so drunk he didn't know where he was goin'." Greta blinked, surprised at herself. She had never given that much information to someone she had just met. Ororo just smiled at her.
"Well, we're here." They stepped out of the elevator and headed down a very metallic hallway. Greta glanced about her in fascination. Then she spotted a huge set of double-doors emblazoned with an 'X'. She nearly stopped in her tracks.
_And I thought the *upstairs* was fancy._ Her eyes widened in shock as the doors opened at their approach. _Jesus H. Christ._ Their footsteps echoed as they stepped into the large, empty room. Greta stared around her and reminded herself to raise her expectations for the rest of the mansion.
"Well, why don't you show me this 'floating trick' that you told me about?" Ororo immediately regretted speaking so suddenly as the slight girl beside her twitched at the sound of her voice. She didn't actually jump; that was what intrigued Ororo about Greta: all of her motions were halfway. Her voice was barely above a whisper, although she seemed to think that she was talking at normal tones. And her features didn't seem to want to change position too much, since Ororo hadn't seen a look of extreme emotion on the girl yet. _Of course. This was what the Professor was warning me of when he said she is 'shy.'_ Ororo's focused on the teen in front of her. She seemed to be recovering from the slight shock, so Ororo prompted her again: "Well?"
"Okay," Greta whispered. The look of concentration on her face was, for her, extreme, as she 'lifted' herself up and took a few steps on the air. She looked to be about ten inches off the floor. Once she had stepped down, she remarked shyly: "Um, that kid Scott noticed before that I try ta walk when I'm...uh...floatin'. Maybe I should try to work on that, ya think?"
_Either her self-esteem is very low from her life on the street, or she's deliberately keeping herself down. We'll have to work on *that.*_ "No, Greta, I think it's just fine if you try to walk on the air. In fact, I think it's good. Many people have had the dream to do it, you're one of the lucky few who can."
Greta's eyes widened in a tiny way. She looked like she had a question about that, but whatever it was, she kept it to herself. "Uh, what next?"
Instead of responding, Ororo asked the computer for a small object, perhaps a wooden block. When it appeared Greta's eyes widened a little bit more. "Greta, I just have a question to ask you: what do you feel when you walk on the air?"
"Huh?"
"I noticed that you pointed your hands downward while you did it. What I'm asking, essentially, is what sort of *feeling* you get in your body when you use your power."
Greta thought for a second. "I feel this...tingle...in my wrists..." she started slowly. She looked up, and Ororo nodded for her to continue. "...and if I sorta...push it down into my hands...you know, the middle?" She pointed to her palm. Ororo nodded again. "And if I push it...if I push it out...toward the ground, you know? I can lift m'self up," she finished. She looked to Ororo for approval. She was nodding once more. _Does she know that she's doin' that?_
"I see what you're getting at. Tell me, when you 'pushed' that drunk away from you, did you feel the same thing?"
Greta furrowed her brow. "Come ta think of it, yeah. How come I never thought-a that?"
"You were confused, and probably shocked with yourself. It's no wonder you didn't want to muddle it over." Greta stored that in her head for further thought. "I'm thinking that perhaps you could use your powers to push other things besides yourself, Greta. And I'm wondering whether you could push that 'tingle' of yours further down from your wrists. What do you think?"
Greta shrugged, not really sure. "I dunno."
"Well, let's try it. Here, I'm going to hold this block for you-" Ororo walked over and picked up the rectangular block. "And I want you to try and push it off my hand without touching it. Can you do that?"
Greta shrugged again. "Okay." She walked up to Ororo, who was holding the block up at Greta's shoulder-level. Greta held up her hand, palm out, at the block. A look of extreme concentration was on her face as she focused on the tingle in her wrist. She pushed it out into her palm, then out of her palm toward the block. Holding the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she watched as the block on Ororo's hand shuddered a tiny bit, then started to move away from Greta's palm. She focused even harder, and the block toppled onto the floor. It took a moment for Greta to register what had happened.
Straightening out, she lowered her hand and looked at Ororo. Ororo was smiling even more than she had been before, and she looked like she was about to say something, but there was a sudden hiss from behind Greta, and they both looked to the double doors.
"Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" asked Evan, smiling sheepishly from the doorway. Greta felt her eyebrows lift the tiniest bit at the sight of the intruder. _Cut it out,_ she thought. _I don't want him *thinkin'* anythin'._
"What did you want, Evan?" Ororo seemed a little annoyed.
"I was just gonna ask if I could go to the movies with Kurt and Kitty. They're gonna go see this horror flick, and-"
"That's fine, Evan, but you're forgetting your manners." His eyebrow lifted, but then he seemed to realize his mistake.
"Sorry, Greta. Do you want to come too?"
***
Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! I'm not going to tell you what happens! Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah! Hee-hee-hee! That's right, you'll just have to review and find out. Oh, sometimes I can be so evil that I amaze myself!
So whaddaya think? Did enough happen in this chapter to satisfy your cravings (yes, that's right, my writing's addictive), or do I have to go even *further*? *Please* review!
