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Chapter Nine: The Cellophane Brigade and Pancakes for Breakfast

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Early the following morning, Nat was jerked out of sleep by a bellow, thundering footsteps, and a shriek of dread, just outside her bedroom door. Terrified, she sat up quickly and somehow managed to strike her forehead against the wall. Her arms flailed wildly for a moment as stars danced before her eyes and she looked for something to grab onto for support before she realized that, despite what she had been dreaming, she wasn't actually being chased by that farting pig thing from The Lion King.

Afraid of what she'd find on the other side of the door, Nat tiptoed silently across the thin carpet and turned the doorknob slowly so it wouldn't creak. With a little yelp that escaped unintentionally, she flung it open and stood staring at the scene that greeted her, gaping.

Hank was there, bright red and virtually steaming with fury, his stance reflecting years of football training and a nearly violent rage. Kurt was next to him, laughing hysterically, even with Hank's huge hand wrapped tightly around the smaller mutant's forearm. At the sight of the open door and Nat's bewildered expression, Hank lifted the smaller mutant by the back of the neck and practically heaved Nightcrawler's unresisting body into Nat's room, where he landed hard and skidded across the rug. Hank turned and stormed down the hallway to his room, muttering something under his breath. Kurt stopped laughing abruptly and stood to rub his aching backside, but started up again when he saw Nat staring at him, her hair disheveled and her sleep-puffy eyes wide with alarm.

"You look like somevun covered your toilet in Reynold's Wrap."

Her hand flew to her mouth, trying to cover the huge grin there. "Omigod! You didn't…did you?"

He rubbed his tailbone and winced, plopping himself down cross-legged on the edge of her bed, and knocking her twisted quilts out of his way. "It's a classic, but it still vorks perfectly every time. I think I'll start my own team of superheroes: the Cellophane Brigade! Righting wrongs! Dispensing justice! Pissing people off!" He waved his arms about, battling imaginary foes.

Nat sat down on the old office chair opposite the bed, shaking her head but unable to suppress a little giggle. "Hell, I'd join in a second." She started spinning the chair, watching the walls flash past as if she were on an amusement park ride. "I can't believe you did that. I've never seen Hank mad before. At least, not really."
"Ja, vell you should have seen the time I tried it on Rogue. I thought for a vile that the vorld vould never see any little Kurt Wagners, if you know vat I mean."

She stuck out her toe and stopped the chair with a jolt, but the world didn't stop spinning for a moment or two. "Who's Rogue?"

"Oh, somevun at the institute. She's all happiness and sunshine the same vay I'm all seriousness and tranquility, but"—he added, as Nat rolled her eyes good-naturedly—"you'll meet her soon enough."

There was an awkward pause that seemed to swell and fill the room. "Um, yeah," she said softly.

He frowned. "You still vant to come back vith us, right?"

"Yeah," was her strangled, unconvincing reply. She lifted her chin and nodded slowly, but looked him in the eyes when she did it. "Yeah, I really do." Her voice came out clear and strong, surprising them both.

Kurt clapped triumphantly. "Good! Ve can tell the professor after breakfast!" He grinned broadly and leaped up off the bed, spinning his tail in the air and cracking his knuckles. He didn't see the panicky expression that spread across her face, or, if he did, he ignored it. "So get dressed and come downstairs for breakfast! I'm not eating Cheerios because you vere slow."

Nat laughed and tossed a wad of crumpled paper at him from the desktop beside her, which he easily ducked. "What makes you think I want you to be here while I dress?"

His mouth popped open in an indignant little "o", but his eyes glittered brightly. "I take das to be a personal insult, Fraulein. To think!" he scampered out the door and down the stairs as if he had tiny trampolines on his soles, like a hyper child. Nat could hear him from all the way down the hall, speaking in a friendly tone that suggested great insult. "A friendly invitation und suddenly I'm a pervert! To think! Schrecklich!"

Nat chuckled to herself, squelching that slithery feeling in her stomach. She hadn't faced anyone but Kurt since the tablecloth fiasco the night before, and she wasn't sure how they were going to react. If they were much like her German friend, they hadn't given it a second thought, and the thought filled her with a certain sense of strength.

A few minutes later, jerking her unruly hair into a braid and smoothing her fresh jeans and sweater (a gift from Moira, like all the clothes in her modest wardrobe), Nat tried to put on a smiling face. She noticed herself in the mirror and couldn't help laughing out loud, a sound that was only halfway between mournful and comic, remembering the morning before when the X-Men had arrived in their great metal beast.

"Ye look like ye've swallowed a lemon…"

And she headed down for breakfast.

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Downstairs, Moira and Charles were chatting quietly over coffee and raspberry scones that Hank had picked up for them on the mainland. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, filled with those long, comfortable silences that only old friends can have, but Moira's face was pensive. She squeezed her coffee mug in a death-grip.

"I joost don' know what t' do with the lass, Charles. She's a good girl, really she is, but I think she's got more to her than she's willin' t' share."

"I'm sure she does, Moira. Few teenagers will come looking for help if they don't absolutely need it." He tried to lighten her mood with a smile, buttering a second scone and offering it across the table, but she didn't seem to notice.

"She's joost so…emotional. An' secretive."

The professor chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "All she did was set the table ablaze. Trust me. I've had worse."

She glanced down somberly at the doilies on the table. "I'm so sorry tha' she hasnae shown more interest in returning with ye to yuir school, Charles. I was so sure tha' she'd love the idea."

"Think nothing of it, Moira. I won't push her, and I don't think that you should either. Let her make up her own mind. Hopefully, Kurt has been able to get a few more insights into her personality than we have."

"D'ye really think tha' he can persuade her, if she's so convinced to go against the idea?"

"There are few people more persuasive than our resident jokester, despite his eccentricities." Moira glanced out the window at the rocky cliffs, where the seagulls were fighting over something they had found. Professor Xavier patted her hand. "We're here until tomorrow, Moira. And after that, she can always change her mind. We're a mobile bunch: we're used to transport."

Her expression lightened a bit, and a smile escaped. "Ye're right o' course. I'm joost so worried about her…"

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When Nat entered the kitchen, her fuzzy blue security blanket was nowhere to be seen, and she was tempted to dart out of the room and come back later. Scott and Kitty were sitting at the table, eating pancakes, while Jean, dressed in a gaudy pink apron she'd pulled out of some random closet, ladled batter onto a griddle on the stove. The smell was sweet and delicious, but underneath there was a faint odor of charred oak. The ruined table had been replaced by the one that had formerly stood in the dining room, and there was no tablecloth adorning the surface. Nat was beginning to feel a little nauseated.

She cleared her throat, not wanting to approach any of them until they knew damn well that she was coming, lest she startle out one of Scott's eye-beam thingies. Scott and Kitty looked up, but Jean was surrounded by the sounds of sizzling food and her own voice, loudly crooning an old Aerosmith tune that Nat vaguely recognized.

Kitty smiled brightly and flipped her brunette ponytail, pulling the chair beside her out for Nat and gesturing broadly for her to take it. Apparently, she had forgotten Tiger Beat crack of the morning before. Either that, Nat thought, or she's afraid to be roasted alive before she can finish her breakfast. In front of her, a massive book with tiny print, talking about proton accelerators and quantum mechanics, was open to a page halfway through it, and Nat inwardly withdrew any quips that she'd had of Kitty being stupid.

Nat took the offer and sat down lightly on the edge of the chair. From the stove, between song lyrics, Jean looked up and smiled, flipping her flaming red hair over her shoulder. She waved at the pan with her spatula, wielding it like a pro. "Ya want breakfast? Best pancakes in the world, if I don't say so myself."

Kitty popped a bite into her mouth and chewed it thoroughly, frowning. "You, like, just did."

Nat could feel a blush creeping up the back of her neck as she nodded at Jean. "Um…sure, that sounds good."

Jean waggled her fingers in the air as if she were counting. "You can have as many as you'd like. We've got enough for a small army here."

"Oh? Hank hasn't eaten yet?"

The sound that escaped Jean was almost a snort, and made Scott smile hugely. Jean's eyes widened and she smacked her hand over her mouth, embarrassed, as her sort-of-boyfriend turned to her to make some sort of crack. She tossed a dishrag at him, catching him on the shoulder and grinning. "It was funny, okay?"

He raised his hands in the air in a defensive gesture. "Hey, I didn't say anything." He smiled and went back to work on his breakfast, giving Nat a terse little nod before returning to whatever it was that he was reading. She felt her stomach do a little flip-flop.

Nat smiled at her inadvertent ability to make the pretty girl laugh. She thanked Jean quietly when the red-head plopped a plate of hotcakes down on the table in front of her, and started slathering them in syrup. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but her empty stomach was beginning to remember.

Jean went back to cooking and singing (this time a terribly off-key little number that Nat didn't know). She ate her breakfast, not saying much and getting progressively more uncomfortable. Kitty seemed to pick up on it. She leaned back in her chair and pushed her empty plate aside, pressing her glossed lips together. "So…you got any…hobbies or anything?"

Nat blanked. "Um…yeah, I probably do."

Kitty smiled encouragingly, her narrow eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline. She made a little circling motion with her hand. "Such as…"

Oh, to hell with it. Isn't honesty always the best approach? She smiled sheepishly. "I can't remember."

There was a long pause before a gentle smile spread across Kitty's face. She leaned forward, wearing an exaggerated and silly expression, the one her friend Doug called the "annoying psychiatrist" face. "Yeah, it is still kinda, like, early in our relationship to be sharing stuff."

Nat stared at her, not sure what to do with that remark. Kitty let out a little giggle, and Nat let herself do the same, until the two girls were laughing vigorously, neither of them quite sure of he cause.

They were interrupted by a shout. "Comin' through!!!"

Kitty groaned, and Nat looked around, confused. Until, that is, the boy introduced as Evan came tearing into the kitchen on his skateboard, knocking over two chairs in the process and jarring the table.

"Watch it, dorkball!" Kitty screeched, grabbing her teetering milk glass and waving a dismissing hand at him. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at Nat, leaning on her elbows. "I swear, he's, like, so immature."

Nat nodded in agreement, but secretly wished she could grab the skateboard from him and try it out on the kitchen floor. It looked like more fun than Kitty's scary science book.

Evan approached the table with his skateboard in hand, tossing it onto the tabletop before Kitty shrieked crossly. He quickly pulled it off, tossing it under the chair he'd staked out for himself, mumbling "Sheesh," and dropping himself down directly across from Nat. Glancing up from his pancakes, he noticed her sitting there for the first time, and went still as stone, a wad of unchewed food in his cheek.

Through clenched teeth Kitty hissed, "Don't be rude. And swallow every now and then. You look like a squirrel."

Evan swallowed obediently, but didn't even blink. There was an awkward silence, and Nat whispered, "Hi."

The younger boy nodded with a little smile, reaching clumsily across the table for her hand. She took it after a small pause and shook it briefly. "Hi," he said in return.

Just as abruptly as Evan's entrance, Kurt came sashaying in with his hands cupped around his mouth, making a trumpeting noise. "There's no need to fear! The Cellophane Brigade is here!"

Kitty scowled at him. "Does anyone in our household ever make, like, a normal entrance?"

Scott grinned around a mouthful of milk. "Wouldn't bet on it, if I were you."

Kurt blew Kitty a kiss and glided over to the stove. "I'll take three to go, if you don't mind."

Jean frowned, but never looked away from her griddle of hotcakes, not a single one burned. "Why? Where're you going?"

Kurt waggled his blue brows at Nat and smiled. "Natalie and I have a meeting vith the professor."