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Chapter Seven: Ice Water
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The look on Moira MacTaggart's face when she entered the kitchen to make lunch was a fabulous one. There, seated in the center of the room amongst egg shells, fruit juice and a fine dusting of flour, were Kurt and Nat, laughing hysterically and munching on what appeared to be an empty pie crust. The doctor's eyes widened and her mouth popped open in shock, uttering an indignant shriek that was heard across the entire floor level.
"Joost what is goin' on in here, ye little hooligans?"
It took only an hour for the two young mutants to utterly destroy the kitchen, and the better part of the afternoon to repair the damage. Moira had stood over them for good fifteen minutes, tapping her toe and frowning. Fortunately, you get to know people rather quickly when you spend a day with them on your hands and knees scraping smashed peaches off of a tile floor, and by the time dinner rolled around Kurt and Nat were speaking more companionably than she was able to do with most people. She didn't even find his sharp teeth disturbing anymore. For the most part.
The rest of the X-Men were another story. Up in her room around six o'clock that evening, locked in the steamy shower stall and trying to squeeze the last of the peach juice out of her matted hair, her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she feared she might collapse with a coronary and she would be discovered later, naked, wet and still smelling oddly of cinnamon. Downstairs, Hank and Jean were fixing dinner, and in less than an hour she'd be at the table with Hank, Moira and their distinguished visitors. Nat leaned against the smooth, soapy shower wall, letting the water stream down over her back and, for the first time in her seventeen years, crossed herself, whispering quiet prayers that she would be able to get through the evening without causing even more trouble for Moira.
As she rinsed the third handful of shampoo from her hair, a raisin fell off the back of her neck.
She wasn't sure what she was afraid of happening. Inside, she was still afraid that Moira wanted to send her to Xavier's institute. Even more, she was afraid that she'd do something that she'd regret. Again. Her powers tended to be a little…agitated when she was feeling on edge, and her hands were tingling even now. In the month that she had been on the island, she was yet to tell Moira exactly why she'd come to her in the first place.
Maybe there was no one in the world that knew about her past, except those girls back at the school, and many of them were likely to abandon what they had seen as a flight of fancy. But when so many of them had seen it…Nat shuddered at the thought. There was no way that they hadn't spoken up. It just wouldn't be logical. No, she wouldn't ever be returning to Hawthorne or to the school where she'd spent all of her teenaged years up until the fire, and she wasn't particularly disappointed about that. Her home was on Muir Island with Moira. Nat was amazed at how quickly she had taken to this place. Even at school she'd never felt this sense of home, and she'd lived there for six years.
Now, there was a good chance that she would be leaving the island and her small but comfortable seaside bedroom to depart the country. Then, she'd end up living in yet another school surrounded by people who made her feel uncomfortable. Kurt, with whom she had spent the afternoon, was welcoming and kind, but a tentative friendship wasn't quite enough to lure her away from the only place where she'd ever felt some level of peace.
After all, what would happen if they learned about the fire? She'd either be shipped back to the authorities or, immeasurably worse, stranded, friendless and alone, in a country she didn't know. It was a weak argument, even in her head. Moira could find out about the fire, too, and she'd probably be in pretty much the same predicament, whether or not Moira was her friend.
Or maybe they'd keep me, she thought, but quickly pushed the idea away as fantasy.
Nat knew that the discovery of her past wasn't what frightened her. Not now. It was the idea of returning to a normal life again, a life of school days and video rentals and a houseful of teens, but never reaching that level of normalcy she desired so strongly. It was returning to the life of an imposter. If she were going to be a mutant, she didn't see the wisdom in returning to a world where she'd be smack dab in the middle of one of the most stressful and self-questioning environments on earth: high school, which was hard enough without the added strain of a dangerous genetic anomaly.
And there was still that little issue of being afraid of the X-Men. Kurt's company had done a lot to ease that particular fear, but the thought of living with them was still disturbing. It was as if doing so was to accept the fact that she was destined to live like a freak for the rest of her life, surrounded by other freaks, barely scraping by in a world that would rather she were dead.
Nat stepped out of the shower with a sigh, wrapping her hair in a towel. She caught a glimpse of herself in the steam-clouded mirror. A fair-skinned girl of medium height and average build, dark-haired and standard looking. Only her eyes gave her anything to take a second glance at, and she'd long since grown used to them. There was a freckle on her neck and another on her cheek, as well as a faded scar on her arm where she'd once fallen into blackberry brambles. Nothing gave her away as a mutant, and she thought for a moment, as she often did at catching a glimpse of her reflection, that perhaps she had been dreaming up till this point. Perhaps she would go downstairs and play Scrabble with her happily married parents and her 1.3 younger brothers before calling her boyfriend to go to the movies. Then he'd come to pick her up with a bouquet of flowers and a shiny red sports car before he asked her to go steady. If only life were as simple as the sitcoms of the Fifties.
A tiny voice in her head reprimanded her, saying, Don't be silly, you little git. Not even normal people live like that.
She suppressed the urge to scream. There just aren't any easy choices for Natalie Fairbanks, are there? she thought angrily. She could go with the X-Men happily and try to embrace their offer of friendship, only to risk facing reality and, possibly, future abandonment. Or, she could try to stay with Moira, and risk the same thing with a little less emphasis on the reality part. Then, of course, there was the option of running away from it all again.
Nat looked up into the mirror, staring herself directly in the eye and giving herself a pinch on the wrist. "No running. Not any more."
Her hands continued to burn, but she took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her bed for a few minutes, trying to ease them. When she felt a little better, she yanked a comb through her wet hair, dressed carefully in the sweater and skirt she'd laid out for herself, and made her way to the dining room, head swimming.
Kurt had saved a spot for her between himself and Jean, which she accepted gratefully after only the slightest of pauses, stumbling slightly over the leg of the chair. A little embarrassed, she folded her tingling hands in her lap and chewed on her bottom lip, making cautious conversation that seemed to come out in a whisper. Moira eyed her warily, afraid for Nat's sake that this was going to end in another fit of tears. At the sight of Moira's anxious expression, Nat plastered a smile on her lips and raised her eyes to the rest of the table.
The salad was fine, and Nat was actually beginning to enjoy chatting with Jean about music and novels when Professor Xavier turned his gaze on her. He smiled and set his fork down beside his plate, steepling his hands in an interested way and leaning forward. Apparently, the conversation he'd been having with Kitty had expended enough to include her.
"And what kinds of academic interests do you have, Miss Fairbanks?"
Nat's mouth went dry. She coughed a little and reached for her water glass, gulping down a large swallow. "At my old school I was pretty good at history. And, um, math."
He nodded, taking her bluntness graciously and moving on. She let out a little puff of air and rubbed her stinging palms together, imagining his filing that little tidbit away in his immensely powerful brain. Again, she wondered if he could tell precisely what she was thinking, and hoped that he couldn't. Beside her, Kurt smiled and leaned forward, whispering, "Don't vorry. The professor tends to make people a little nervous."
She returned the smile gratefully.
On the other side of her, Jean was occupied helping Scott with something he'd managed to spill on his shirt, so Nat and Kurt continued on their own, speaking a little softer than everyone else.
"So vere are you from?"
"Oh…um, a town on the mainland. You'd never have heard of it. It's about this big." She indicated it with her hand, holding her thumb and forefinger a centimeter or two apart. "And you? I'd say Germany's a pretty safe bet."
He flashed the smile that she was now beginning to expect every time she looked at him. "Ja, you'd be right."
She glanced down at her plate, puncturing little holes her potatoes with her fork. "So…do you miss your family and stuff? Being so far away, I mean."
Kurt rolled his eyes. "You'd be surprised how little time I have to spend missing anyvun. Besides, I never knew my real family growing up."
"Really? Sorry. That must've been…very hard."
"I had my freunde, my friends. Und my adopted family, too. They vere very good to me. Nein, it vasn't as bad as it sounds."
Nat put her fork down and looked at him intently. "You're awfully optimistic aren't you?"
He nodded. "Sometimes you've got to be to keep from going completely verrückt."
She glanced away. "I didn't know my parents too well, either."
"Oh? Warem?"
"I'm told that my mother died when I was a baby, and that might or might not be true. And my dad…he left me with my aunt as soon as I began to…develop my powers. From there I got sent to a lot of boarding schools. He never really tried to contact me after that, and he died when I was fourteen. An accident killed him. Uh, a car accident or something."
"I'm sorry. So how'd you end up here?"
She took a large bite of potatoes, chewing it slowly and carefully. "I saw something in a newspaper and thought I'd give it a go. You know, try it out and all. I was curious about Moira. It's not every day that anyone dealing with mutants is mentioned in the news without being followed by the word 'lynched'."
"Ja, I know."
They sat silently for a few minutes, eating and listening to the conversation between the others. As she reached for the pitcher of ice water, Kurt continued.
"Have you considered coming back vith us? To the institute?"
That's when it happened. The delicate crystal pitcher tipped over and shattered, but Nat was probably the only one who saw it. In the same split second, there was a flash of bright light and a flare of heat, and the tablecloth was ablaze. Everyone leaped back, startled, and there were several shouts and screams. Hank grabbed a towel and started beating at the flames, and Scott followed his lead, whipping the fire into submission.
In all, it had only been burning for a few seconds, but the tabletop was charred and smoking. Not a piece of china or crystal glass was left without a mark, and the food had turned into charred lumps on the platters. Everyone was silent for a moment before Kurt let out a little squawk of laughter, staring at Scott's shocked expression.
Nat uttered a low, strangled moan and turned to flee, leaving Kurt's outturned hand empty as he reached for her arm.