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Chapter Twelve: Nighttime Repentance
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Later that same night, as Nat lay in bed unable to sleep, she started to think. The excitement of the evening was still fresh under her skin, which smelled like Dial and strawberry lotion after her most recent shower, and her exhaustion paired with it to give her an intense case of midnight paranoia.
The slightest sound was cause for alarm at the moment, not at all helpful in her quest for sleep since there was a tree outside her window that kept tapping at the glass. She would get cold, wrap herself in blankets, and be too hot to sleep in just a few minutes, kicking the covers aside in annoyance. Thoughts kept rushing into her head, making her jittery and a bit ill, which wasn't helped by the rapid changes in body temperature, and she was started to fear that she was coming down with another of her fevers.
Nat tried to ignore the fears that always crept back at night.
She was going to get caught, she just knew it. Professor Xavier was undoubtedly going to have to contact someone back in Hawthorne. He simply wasn't the type to involve himself in a kidnapping, and then he'd know all about her and her dirty little secret. After all, she wasn't in the country legally. Neither was Kurt, exactly, but that was easier to explain considering his unique appearance. She, on the other hand, was a normal-looking teenaged girl with a family history, school and medical records and, if things were going the way that she suspected they were, possibly even an arrest warrant on her head. She chewed on her tongue at the thought, and moaned when she tasted something coppery in her mouth, flopping over on her jumpy stomach and pulling the pillow over her head.
And what would happen when he looked into her past and tried to get the records that would keep her here legally?
Nat sniffled. Not even Moira knew, and she was actually considering telling the one man in the world that might be able to help her if only he thought she was worthy of his help? If he thought that she was dangerous, too risky or too much of a damned liar to keep around, would she be sent back? And what would "back" entail, exactly? There was only one way that she could even try to avoid having that happen.
She'd just have to tell him herself. Nat's body went numb with fear at the thought, but she knew that it was what would have to happen if he was ever going to trust her. Her intestines felt as if they were being twisted and pulled in her midsection and she could hear a rushing sound, like wind, in her ears. It was as if someone was there with her, waiting to hear her say it, so she whispered it aloud, just to hear how it sounded on her lips.
"I've got a secret…"
In the darkness of the room, everything that was ahead of her seemed crystal clear, as it always did at night, and she knew that this intensity, this conviction, would be gone by the first light of the upcoming morning. She would be back to privately fearing discovery, feeling nauseated and terrified at the notion but frozen in place when she told herself that she had to do something about it. There had been so many nights back on Muir when she'd thought these very things, but, come morning, hadn't been able to push herself that extra distance that was needed to tell the truth
That's not going to happen again, she thought, silently addressing the ceiling. I'm not going to let it.
With a deep breath that came back out in a little moan, Nat pushed the blankets aside, carefully laying them on the bed so they'd be warm when she came back to them. She remembered the camping trip at the age of five when her father had taught her how to lay the sleeping bags just right so they stayed the coziest, and felt a lump block up the back of her throat. Her feet hit the cold wooden floor and made her shiver, so she pulled a robe over her nightgown and slipped her feet into a pair of socks from the dresser.
She stood staring at the inside of the door for a few minutes, little voices in the back of her mind telling her to go back to bed, that she was simply being delusional with fatigue, that this was the most foolish thing that she had ever decided to do. She ignored them, and turned the knob.
In the hallway, the house was darker and she couldn't tell where she was headed, so she placed her left hand against the wall to guide her, feeling blind in the suffocating black. After nearly twenty minutes of searching, passing the same incorrect hallway four times, she found the door that Kurt had told her belonged to the Professor's bedroom. Nat could see the shaggy form of a large house plant that tipped off her memory, and she rapped lightly at the door. There was no answer. She tried again, and still got nothing.
With a nervous little sigh, she pushed the bedroom door open slowly, cringing at the sharp creak of a hinge, and peeked her head around the door jam. Inside, there was enough light from the moon pouring in through the windows to see that the bed was empty, and untouched.
With a quiet curse, Nat remembered Kurt's brief mention of the professor's office. Would he really be there this late at night? She glanced at her watch and clicked the little button that made it light up, bathing her face in a tiny circle of dim blue light. It was half past midnight, earlier than she thought. Sighing, she set out for the office, finding the staircase relatively easily and stumbling her way down. She paused at the bottom, her feet shuffling back and forth. Which way was it again?
In the end, she simply picked a direction and took it, following a hallway down to the library, which she did remember. Well, at least that's something, Nat thought. She turned and backtracked a bit, finding herself confronted by a door that looked very familiar. She knocked, harder than at the bedroom door because she wasn't afraid of waking him in there. When there was no response, and she eyed something she had noticed. There was a keypad on the left hand side of the door, and she paused a moment, trying to remember if she had seen a keypad on the door of the professor's office, or even if she had actually seen the office at all or only heard about it from Kurt. There was so much to remember about all that she had seen, that it was a jumble. She chewed her lip, trying to remember what the code had been, and smiled despite herself.
"Green Eggs and Ham. Hmm. Eins, neun, acht, vier." A laugh escaped her, and the door slid open with a hiss.
The room inside was black, not a single window or lamp to guide her, but there was a quiet humming sound in the background, like giant fans or a distant car's engine. Still, desperate to find Xavier before she lost her nerve, she slipped inside and whispered, "Professor? Are you in here?"
With a rush of air the door slid shut behind her, and she jumped.
"Hello?" Her voice echoed eerily, and a chill ran through her bones at the thought that she had somehow made it back to the Blackbird's big metal hangar and was trapped behind the waterfall until she could figure out what to do next.
A series of crashes somewhere in the dark, and a voice that she couldn't make out, made her scream, and call out in a tremulous voice, "Hello? Professor Xavier, are you there?"
The voice shouted again, and this time she heard it more clearly, a muffled voice, deep and masculine, and very commanding. "Get down, kid, before ya get creamed!"
There was a loud noise coming straight for her, and she was amazed that she hadn't heard it more clearly before: a mechanical sounding whir that was moving forward quickly. Something was here, and it was coming. She started to tremble. "W-what's going on? Who's there?"
"Just get down and stay down, now!" Terrified, Nat dropped to her knees, covering her head with her arms, trying to back up so she could find the wall, a desperate attempt to seek out a light switch.
The "something" whizzed past her, and she screamed again, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling her body grow cold with fear, her knees pressed tightly against her chest. "What's happening? Where are you? Who are you?"
There was an enormous smashing sound, and the clatter and clang of metal on metal. Whatever had been coming was no longer on its path with her, and she heard the screeching sound of something tearing across the floor as it skidded to a stop, striking the wall and making the entire room vibrate.
A large hand came down out of nowhere, clamping down on her wrist and hauling her to her feet. "Computer, lights!" Lights flickered on from somewhere above, pooling down brightly around her. A few feet away, what looked like a large piece of machinery was whirring and buzzing, wicked looking blades spinning in the air. Its gutted wires had been pulled out and lay haphazardly on the metal floor. A short, muscular man with wild dark hair had her arm tightly restrained.
"What the hell do you think you're doin'?" Her captor shook her wrist, and she started to shiver, her entire frame shaking on her feet.
"Well? What's goin' on?"
"N-nothing! I mean, n-not really! I was just looking for the professor's office, and I came in here, and it was so dark that I couldn't see, but I could hear, because there were sounds—crashes and machines!—and—"
He shook her again, harder this time. "Knock it off, kid! What are ya doin' in the Danger Room by yourself?"
Nat blinked. "The…what?"
The man stared at her for a moment, a pair of gleaming blades sheathing themselves in the backs of his hands. Nat gulped. She remembered something Kurt had told her earlier: this must be Logan, better known simply as Wolverine. The sweat that glistened on his forehead gathering in the clenched creases there, but, slowly, a tiny smile of amusement played at the corner of his mouth. "Were ya wanderin' around or somethin'? Ya wanna tell me why ya thought it was a good idea to go pokin' yer nose in mysterious rooms late at night? I'm guessing you're the new kid, right?"
She nodded. "L-like I said before, I was just looking for the professor, and…I thought that this might be…well, his office." She looked sheepishly into the man's hairy face, and continued, quieter. "I'm guessing it's not."
A deep grumble of a laugh escaped from his broad chest. "Not last time I checked. This is the Danger Room." He wiped his face on the back of his hand. "Ya know, it's kinda late, so if ya really needed to talk to the prof, ya might check the man's bedroom."
She shook her head. "I did. He wasn't there. So I came down here…"
"Yeah, ya explained that part already."
"What's a Danger Room?"
"I thought I was askin' you the questions."
She shrugged. "Okay."
"I'm…done."
"So what's a Danger Room?"
He raised his hands vaguely in the air, indicating the walls around him. "This place. It's a trainin' room, of sorts. Kinda like a gym, only here you're more likely to, well, die."
Her eyes widened. "Whoa."
"Ya could say that. Now, did ya want me to show ya where to find the prof?"
Nat felt suddenly dizzy and faint, remembering what she had set out to do in the first place. She paused for a moment before she nodded tersely, and when she spoke her voice sounded pinched and very young. "Yes, please."
"This way, then," he said, leaving the so-called "Danger Room" behind. She looked back over her shoulder and followed him, seeing the twisted hunk of metal, that she could easily imagine decapitating her, on the floor. Nat shivered and continued with Wolverine down the hall.
He led her only a little bit farther down the corridor, probably only five or six doors away, and stopped with his arms folded in a threatening way. He rapped on the door and called out, "Charles, you in there? Ya got a visitor."
The professor's voice answered back, "Thank you, Logan," and the burly man nodded at thin air and gave her a quick little glance before he turned, disappearing again down the hall. She saw a tiny orange light flare up as he lit a cigar, and then he was gone from view completely.
When Nat heard the professor's voice again, it sounded oddly like an echo, and it took her a moment to realize, with a start, that it was echoing within her own skull. "Come in, please, Natalie."
Shaking all over again, almost as badly as she had in the Danger Room, Nat pushed open the door (which was a simple wooden one without a keypad) and entered the professor's office. He greeted her warmly, and she came in slowly, looking around. The room was dimly lit by a fire on the hearth and a small green desk lamp, just enough light to work by. The professor was at his desk with a laptop opened in front of him, his hands still poised on the keys. He was dressed in a dark green bathrobe and had a plaid blanket draped over his lap. With a friendly smile, he pulled out from behind the desk and came forward, beckoning for her to take a seat before he returned to his desk. The laptop was snapped shut and put aside.
"How can I help you, Natalie?"
She bit her bottom lip, staring over his shoulder at the painting of a young woman with eyes that looked a lot like his own. She glanced down at her lap, all of her carefully decided speeches forgotten in the heat of the moment.
"I have something to tell you, Professor."