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"Advance, and do not fear the thorns
in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood."
-Kahlil Gibran
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Chapter Forty-Three: Advancement's Thorns
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Nat entered the living room as if she were a child waking early on Christmas with the glittering tree set up just a few yards away, but without the lingering feeling of excitement. She took tiny footsteps and tried to keep her heart from pounding out through her ribs. Her hands tingled and her head felt slightly hot, but it was no longer a painful sensation that made promises of pain and the inability to restrain it. It felt like she was blushing all over, a small, almost comforting heat that radiated outward and spread across her body. She ignored it and focused on the situation she was facing, feeling her heart steady a bit.
Pietro stood beside her, and despite her embarrassment about the events a few minutes before, his nearby presence was undeniably reassuring. For some reason, so was that of Fred in the next room. Even Lance and Todd, as they sat companionably on the couch and switched rapidly through the channels, were a dose of reality. They were still whole and seemed relatively undamaged…
If they have all lasted this long as members of the Brotherhood, with that blue-skinned super-bitch at their heels, maybe I won't be stabbed through the gullet and thrown to the lions, Nat pondered thoughtfully. Or maybe she just likes them…
The young men were not the focus of her attention, however, and she felt her eyes widen as she slowly opened the door. Mystique, no longer in the shape of the dark-eyed brunette that ran Bayville High School, stood by the open window with her hands clasped tightly behind her back. She was dressed in a form-fitting white outfit, which contrasted sharply with her vividly turquoise coloring and red hair, and Nat found herself marveling at the exotic strangeness of this startling woman.
She looked a lot like her son, Nat realized with a jolt, unintentionally biting her tongue against the shock of it. They were slightly differing shades of blue, but blue is blue, and it's a pretty rare physical characteristic. Both were thin and possessed a disturbing strength and agility in their sinewy musculature. Even the same oddly pale and familiar eyes, although a different color, trained on Nat when Raven Darkholme turned to face her newest recruit. The older woman smiled, but her smooth brow was lowered, her gaze intense. This was not a social call.
Nat swallowed hard, swallowing the desire to flee in terror. The burning on her skin intensified and she started to shiver, but she knew that she was in control. There would be no accidents tonight. She felt a sharp jab as Pietro's elbow connected with her side, and she suppressed a yelp and stepped forward awkwardly, putting out her hand.
"P-pleasure to see you again, Ms. Darkholme."
There was no reaction from the red-head for a long time, but when one came it was like a bucket of cold water, and somewhat unwelcoming. Mystique laughed, tossing back her flaming locks, and half frowned, half grinned at the younger woman. She took Nat's hand, and her long, thin fingers wrapped around the girl's wrist with unexpected vigor, shaking the hand quickly, sharply, with just one little flick.
"I'm sure it is, Natalie," she said frostily. Something about her tone told Nat that, for some reason, this woman did not like her very much.
Mystique shot a glare at the two boys on the couch, now bickering over whether to watch professional wrestling (Lance) or a talk show about strippers with over-the-top breast implants (Todd), and she reached out to snatch the remote from the shorter boy's grasp. She crossed her arms over her chest, the remote just out of Todd's reach.
"Hey! I was watchin' somethin'!" he shouted, but his anger seemed to wither when he saw the unyielding expression on his superior's face. He stuck out his chin like a dejected child, leaping off of the couch with stunning nimbleness and storming away with his arms crossed, swearing under his breath. Lance waited a little longer, even kicking up his feet and propping them on the edge of the coffee table. Apparently, he was trying to make some sort of point. He paused, thinking about it for a moment, then caught a glimpse of Mystique's expression and quickly followed Todd out of the room.
Next to Nat, Pietro smiled and turned to Mystique, trying boldly to insert himself into the swiftly wilting conversation. He perched his hands on his hips and cocked his head so he could make eye contact with Mystique but still see Nat in his peripheral vision. "I was under the impression that Magnus would be coming along with you, Miz Darkholme. So where is he?"
"That's really none of your concern, is it?" Raven said blandly, not taking her gaze off of Nat the entire time.
Pietro went on, disregarding Mystique's brusque attitude, although a brief pause flaunted his embarrassment at being so carelessly ignored in front of his guest. "Nat's been here for a few hours now, and I gave her the main go-around. But I left the important stuff to you, so I guess the real tour hasn't started yet."
The twin looks that Pietro received could have frozen hell, Mystique's sharp and cruel and Nat's slightly confused. Ms. Darkholme's tone was equally and obscurely glacial. "Did you, Maximoff? Well, that's a first, but it certainly is comforting." She waved her hand in the direction that the others had taken out of the room, still glaring. "Go with them. I need to speak with Miss Fairbanks alone."
Nat gulped, surprised to hear herself and new teammate being addressed by their last names. It seemed so…impersonal. She glanced at Pietro's face, which was momentarily screwed up in stark annoyance, and felt herself becoming terribly nervous. Maybe Mystique didn't like them. When he turned to leave, she reached out to grab his elbow before remembering how silly it must make her look, and let her hand drop limply to her side instead. This wasn't the time to look like a baby. If there was any way to impress Darkholme, she doubted that looking fragile or frightened would be very effective.
The red-headed woman watched as Pietro left, and she stalked over to the door through which they had all left, moving to close it. Just before the door met the jamb, Todd stuck his head through and grinned up at his "teacher", nodding happily. She sighed and rolled her eyes.
"What now, Tolensky?"
He grinned wider, his eyebrows raising happily. "Good call on the fiery chick, Miz M. She's better than any o' these jokers." He turned to leave, and Nat heard him say to Lance, a little quieter but not quiet enough, "I saw her boobs, yo!"
Mystique turned slowly around with a questioning look on her face, one thin eyebrow arching upward toward her hairline. Nat's face instantly colored, her eyes going so wide that they began to water, and she tried to look away. Mystique let out a little exhalation and stared at her newest charge. "Well. You've already become well acquainted with the others, then."
Nat nodded, trying to salvage what was left of her dignity by not quite meeting Mystique's vaguely amused expression. "Y-yes ma'am." Her teeth were clenched so hard that it hurt.
There was a long moment of silence. "I don't think I have to tell you that you are expected to keep your clothes on, most of the time."
A painful heat was creeping up around Nat's ears, but it was the mere burn of embarrassment rather than something more insidious. "No, ma'am. You don't have to tell me. Well, not again, I guess." Her mild attempt at humor failed miserably, going instantly belly-up in the already murky sea of her humiliation that was apparently intent on making its way through this entire house.
Now that the lights were turned up and Nat could see it better, the room looked like a group of teenaged boys lived in it, without a dried flower or crocheted throw in the place. There was an overstuffed couch, a couple of matching easy chairs, a low coffee table and an entertainment center that boasted a modest supply of possibly-stolen electronics, but not much attention had been paid to the décor itself. It was a comfortable room that fulfilled its purpose, but it was clear that Mystique, or any other females, spent little time here.
Mystique nodded slowly, watching Nat as the younger girl made her random appraisal of the living area. "I suppose I should welcome you to the Brotherhood of Mutants and all of that, now that you'll be with us for a while. You will, won't you?"
Nat rubbed her hands on the backs of her jeans, wiping the tiny bit of sweat from her palms and trying to subdue the tickly itch that was spreading up to her elbows. Now, it was more of a matter of discomfort than some form of impending danger. "Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much for letting me stay here. I, uh…really needed a place."
"I heard," Mystique said, sounding bored, as she took a seat on the edge of the magazine-littered tan sofa. "He's still in the hospital, if you'd like to know." Recognition played across Nat's features and her spine quivered, her knees wanting to hold her up any more, but she straightened herself and refused to let her chin drop. Mystique watched her closely, looking vaguely pleased with her reaction.
Nat slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs, not waiting to be invited but not quite trusting her legs to hold her up much longer. Her chin was high and her gazed remained fixed on Raven's own. She had begun to tremble ever so slightly and her stomach felt as if gravity had fleetingly abandoned it, the sensation of being on an elevator that is going far too quickly, perhaps even dropping without the aid of cables.
"Is he…I mean, he's going to be alright, isn't he?" Her voice sounded tight and throaty even to her own ears.
Raven's odd blue-gray eyes narrowed minutely. "Why does it matter now? They won't press charges. Not if they're smart. They're completely aware that you know what's going on at that institute of theirs, considering that you were a student."
Nat swallowed. "I…well, I mean, I don't want him to…you know…because of me."
"Of course. You're a moral being at the core, I suppose." She said this almost bitterly, and Nat just nodded, temporarily unsure of how to respond to such a statement.
"Um…yeah," Nat finally sputtered. There was a long pause, a palpable discomfort growing in the room between them. "Did…didn't you want to talk to me about something? I mean, it's getting sort of late—"
"I was getting to that, of course," Raven interjected, her words clipped and sharp. She leaned forward and gracelessly flicked a half-empty glass of room-temperature milk off of the table, scowling in apparent disgust at her charges' lack of housekeeping skills as it splashed across the carpet. Nat cringed when a sour-sweet odor pervaded her nostrils.
Raven twined her fingers together, resting her elbows on her knees casually but wearing an expression that was all business, her eyebrows knitting together. "You have to remember that you are going to have to make yourself wanted here. We can't have potentially dangerous mutants running around that haven't proven themselves to have at least some sort of dedication to the team. This isn't a youth hostel."
A cold chill ran through Nat's middle, and she felt oddly lightweight, as if her head were about to float away on a string like some horribly demented balloon. Her eyes lowered of their own accord, like a toddler being chastised or a puppy caught playing in the garbage can. "Of…course, ma'am. I understand."
Mystique rose, walking slowly to the fireplace and running a finger disgustedly across the dusty mantelpiece. She paused for a long moment, not looking at the younger mutant or even acknowledging her presence. An anomalous sense of calm settled over the room, before it was bitten through by another sharp bite from the long-limbed changeling.
"How do you suppose you can make yourself as welcome as possible here?" she asked, not bothering to turn and face the object of her interrogation.
Nat's throat was drier than ever, and a small crimp was forming at the base of her spine from sitting too rigidly. "I…I don't know…I guess I could take my clothes off some more." She grinned half-heartedly, the words falling past her lips before she could stop them. Her cheeks colored hotly but she was unable to quell the raging smile that was suddenly so eager to show itself. Giggles erupted from her at the pure, unjust idiocy of her own unthinking mind, and Mystique spun around, her brow creased in irritation. Nat tried to stop chortling, making an odd burbling sound instead as she choked slightly on her own tongue.
"Yes, well, I don't think that's quite what I was thinking," the shape-shifter said acidly.
Shaking with the effort to breathe and keep her laughter inside at the same time, Nat nodded again, feeling her lip quiver with the need to smile. "Yeah…sorry…kidding."
"Indeed."
Another awkward silence descended. "Um…is there something in particular that you had in mind, ma'am?"
"It's not my place to say, at the moment. But I must ask you: are you prepared to use your abilities, whatever that may come to entail in the future, to ensure the betterment of the Brotherhood of Mutants?"
It sounded phony, rehearsed, and Nat tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that this must be something that was asked of all the new recruits. Her insides remained a quivering mess, a gelatinous knot of confusion and barely-veiled anxiety. She licked her lips, finding them hot and dry. "Yes. Yes, of course I am."
Not like I have much choice, eh? she thought bitterly to herself, trying not to let the thought show through her features.
Mystique's face was still, her eyes narrowed assessingly and trained on Nat's face. Nat swallowed hard, almost positive that her inner doubts were surfacing in her outward appearance, and afraid that Mystique would notice. Slowly, and to Nat's relief, a broad smile spread across her new superior's lips, bearing straight white teeth that were frighteningly reminiscent of a wolf or a haunted house clown.
Raven rose to her feet again, glancing at her watch and making an irritated huffing sound. "Excellent. Now, I'm sure that you're ready to return to school in the morning?"
Surprised, Nat rose as well, approaching Darkholme with her hands outspread, feeling shocked and suddenly terrified. "No! No, I can't! It's too soon, and what if they see me?"
"See you?" Raven chuckled softly, a hard sound that was distinctly humorless. "What will they do, call the police? Like I said, there's no way that they would be so foolish. You know far too much about them for them to make such an imprudent mistake. And with Xavier out of the way…excuse me, with Xavier unavailable, there's no way for them to alter your memories of the institute and all the goings-on there."
There was a strange and bitter taste on Nat's dry tongue, like the juice from the stem of a dandelion, swallowed during the aftermath of a childish prank. She watched the shape-shifter closely as her vision seemed to block out everything else, unsure of how to react to such a blunt statement, her body still wracking with fear at the prospect of returning so soon to Bayville High. The fret was etched quite frankly in her wide green eyes and the pale hue of her cheek, at which Ms. Darkholme sneered quite openly.
"Oh, what is it now, you infantile thing?" With a roll of her watery eyes that seemed to pin the dark-haired girl against the nearby wall, Raven's thin arms were laid across her chest in a display of open annoyance and her pointed chin thrust outward as if to stab the air. Her words were carved in Nat's brain, a sign of distaste, a deliberate show of disgusted authority.
"I…I can't go back just yet! I mean, they'll all be there and…and—"
"And what, they'll try to talk to you? Those adolescent pacifists aren't likely to try anything any more dangerous than that, especially if Maximoff is wagging along behind you like your little lapdog the way he seems to be."
A blush again colored Nat's face and throat, but she tried to ignore it to face the more immediate problem rather than submitting to her own embarrassment. She swallowed, trying not to let tears break through her stern grasp on placidity, and nodded slowly and stiffly, like a frightful marionette. "I…can be ready in the morning, ma'am."
A sharp nod preceded a brief and unfriendly smile, showing that something had finally been accomplished. "See to it that you are. I have a reputation, Little One, and I won't have it tainted with some dirty rumor that I run an undisciplined household." Mystique dusted her front as if to dislodge some sheen of sweaty grime attached to her from entering this abode, and began heading for the front door, pausing for a moment with her hand on the knob. "And, Miss Fairbanks?"
Nat bit her tongue and pressed her aching hands against her ribs, squeezing her body inward as much as she could without imploding. "Y-yes?"
"You'll be having another guest tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be calling you to my office at the school." Mystique smiled enigmatically at Nat's apprehensive expression. "You are to be sufficiently prepared." With that, she left before uttering another word, ignoring the quiet, tremulous sounds of stifled whimpering as the door slipped shut behind her.
A long moment of silence greeted the panicky girl, who dropped again into the nearest seat, unable to remain upright under her own power, her head in her hands with her hair splayed around her face like a dark curtain against the world. Nat Fairbanks listened to the quiet night, devoid of almost any sound, and tried not to let her emotions get the better of her. She caught the muffled clicking of the lock as it shifted into place, the faint sounds of her new teammates moving about in the next room, and the distant chirping of late spring crickets courting one another outside the house.
Above it all, like a snare drum echoing in the midnight air, was the painful thudding of her own anxious heart.