Listen, people, this is really starting to bug me, so does anyone think they could give me a quick tutoring of how to use html? Thanks. :D Enjoy the chapter!

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Chapter Twelve: A Chilling Conversation

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Greta immediately forgot about any outside problems as soon as she entered the enormous, round room. "So - so this is the Cerebro that everyone was talkin' about?"
"Yes," Beast answered in tones to match the quiet girl's. "It is rather impressive, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it's okay, I guess," she said, glancing sideways at him. As the pair reached the computer in the center of the room, Greta said softly: "Hey, Professor. What's up?"
"Ah, just the person I wanted to see," the wheelchaired man said, turning said wheelchair and removing his headset. Greta just looked at him. "Yes, ahem, well," he continued awkwardly. Beast smiled from behind his student, putting a broad hand on her shoulder. "You said that you were going to allow me to do some research into your past, correct?" She blinked at him. "Quite. Well, I've been doing some looking, but I'm afraid it's near impossible to find anything out about it without some help from your end."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Well, for one thing I'd like to know anything you remember about when you first found yourself on the streets. Any landmarks you saw? Anything at all that stands out in your memory?"
Images flashed behind Greta's eyes. She stared blankly into the dark space beyond the Professor's shoulder for a moment, biting the inside of her lip. Xavier and Dr. McCoy watched her retreat even farther into herself, and thought that perhaps she wasn't going to respond, until she spoke so softly that neither of them could hear, her lips barely parting to form the words.
Xavier didn't want to disturb her in her reverie, for fear of hurting her emotionally, so he tentatively reached out with his mind to 'see' her surface thoughts at least, just to get a glimpse at what she was going through. All he could sense was...fear. Pure fear. The kind that children have late at night when their room is just light enough for them to see the shadows and what might be contained in them. The kind of fear that could make the bravest person he'd ever met curl into a fetal ball and weep. Instinctively he drew back, both physically and mentally, and realized that Greta was now speaking loudly enough to hear.
"No, I won't give it to you, it's all I've got." Her words were at her normal volume, but they seemed more timid than usual. Eyelids flickered shut as she drew in a deep breath. When she next spoke, her voice had changed, gotten more gruff. It was almost as if she was repeating something someone else had said.
"Aw, y'er a cute liddle kiddie, ain'tcha? I seen thatcha got somethin' else - ya put it in yer pocket, din-cha? Why don'tcha give that'n to me, too?"
"No!" The voice was still quiet, but it was growing in intensity.
"Come on, kid!" Angrier this time. "Give it to me!"
"Why do you want it anyway?!"
"Give it to me!"
"No!" Both voices has raised to near-shouting now, and each time the gruff voice spoke her face twisted into a vicious snarl.
"Then I'll take it from ya!"
"*No!* You smell bad! I don't wanna talk to you anymore!"
"Give it *here*!"
"No!"
Just then, the authoritative voice broke in. It sounded older than both of the others. "Hey, what's goin' on here? You botherin' this kid?" Changing back to the timid persona, Greta nodded slowly, eyes still closed. "Hey, bug off, will ya?"
The gruff voice was back. "Okay, okay, I'm leavin'." Then it muttered, "Stupid kid."
"Thanks," said the timid voice. Then suddenly Greta's eyes snapped open, and her head jerked up slightly. She took a deep, shaky breath, then began to shudder. It was a moment before anyone spoke again. "What in tha hell just happened?" Greta asked, her mask-like face starting to falter into an expression of fear.
Dr. McCoy put his hand back onto her shoulder (it had fallen off while she was acting out her peculiar drama), and gave the shoulder a little squeeze. "Repressed memories," said the Professor softly. "This is more serious than I thought." Steepling his hands in front of his face, he creased his brow in thought.
"Do you think she should spend time in the medical wing?" Beast inquired.
Professor X looked up at Greta again. "Do *you* think you should, Greta?"
"Not until you tell me what in tha hell just happened."
"You've just acted out something that I fear you've repressed for many years. Do you remember any of it now?"
"Just somethin' about bein' scared." That made him increase the intensity of his gaze on her, and she shifted uncomfortably, a subtle expression of discomfort coming over her features. "You want me to keep tellin' you 'bout stuff so you can do research and crap?"
The Professor was still thoughtful. "Yes, I think you should be fine on your own tonight." Then he switched back to normal. "I'm sorry. Um...I think I would just like to copy down the information on your business card, if that could be possible. And, uh..." He turned to the blue figure behind Greta. "I'm sorry, Hank, but would you mind leaving the room a moment?"
McCoy nodded and left. Xavier waited until the door had hissed shut behind him before speaking again. "Would you permit me to...probe your mind? If only for that memory that you just acted out for us?"
Greta was still confused, but she nodded her consent anyway. She could almost feel his presence in her mind, but, luckily, the feeling only lasted for about half a minute. She shuddered slightly again when she saw the change in his eyes when he returned to his own head. Before she could blink, he was all business again. Putting his headset back on, he turned back to Cerebro. "Thank you, Greta, you've given me much to work with," he dismissed her. Thoroughly creeped out, but careful not to show it, she exited the dim room, greeting Hank at the door. As she walked slowly to the Danger Room, she began to puzzle over the exchange. As if she didn't have enough to think about already.

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Huzzah! I'm *back*, baby, back and kickin'! Okay, I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote this chapter, but I've been feeling kinda gloomy lately, and I finally think I got that dull feeling outta me. This is why I say "huzzah." For those of you reading this: please review and tell me what you think. But, um...if you have to tell me something bad, could you use some tact in saying it, if only to leave my pathetic little emotional barrier unharmed? Thanks.
Oh, and: much more to come! I'm on a writing *streak* now!