A/N: I'm baaaackk!!! I love this part! I get to say whatever I want!! Anyway, thanks for the suggestions on Leslie's powers. If anyone still has one, I'd love to here it. I have an idea what I want to do, but it's…odd, so any other ideas would probably be better. Ahem, as for whether this will be a Leslie/Kurt romance…well, you never know, do you? J
Disclaimer:
"Confused, Jean..? Sudden doubts about what this means for you and Scotty -- for
your cozy little marriage, maybe -- in the wake of my wake? No fear, girlfriend.
Not about that, at least. Been there, done that. And his little brother too."
Madeline Pryor, X-Man 25
Groggy and nauseous, Leslie struggled to remember where she was and why she was awake. The events of yesterday came rushing back to her. Hell. At least she knew the answer to the first question. As for the second…
Oh, yeah. Might have something to do with the crazy person pounding on her door at…5:49 AM?! Awake now, Leslie threw the covers off and flung open the door. "What?!" she snarled, in an unconscious imitation of Wolverine.
Her question apparently startled the blonde standing at the door. Almost as tall as Leslie, but not nearly as bony, her eyes widened. "H-hi! Ah'm Paige Guthrie. Ah'm s'posed—"
"Hold that thought," Leslie interrupted, closing the door in Paige's face. I will not murder her, I will not murder her, I will not murder her…maim, yes, but I will not murder her…Pretending the last five minutes had never happened, she crawled back into bed and tried to fall asleep.
Paige waited in the hall, tapping her feet, for five minutes…then ten…then fifteen… After twenty minutes of waiting, she opened the door.
Leslie glared at her from her place on the bed. "Don't you know it's rude not to knock?"
Paige glared at her. "Ya had me waiting fer a half hour!"
Still glaring, Leslie sat up. "One, it wasn't a half hour. Two, what the hell are you doing, waking me up this early?"
"Ah'm giving ya yer schedule!"
Leslie stared at her, trying to process this new information. Coffee…need…coffee… "Schedule?"
Sighing, Paige tried her best to get her accent under control before continuing. "Yes, your schedule. With your classes and stuff?"
Oooohhhh, that kind of schedule. "Okay, great. Thanks," Leslie said, taking the slip of paper, "but is there a reason you did it now?!"
"Well, your first class is at 7:25, and I figured you'd need time to get ready and eat—"
"7:25?! Who came up with that idea? Never mind, don't care, thanks so much, bye!"
With that, Paige found herself in the hall again. Miffed, she went downstairs to get her breakfast, away from crazy girls from alternate timelines.
"Crap, crap, crap! Stupid school with stupid classes at stupid 7:25," Leslie muttered as she ran to the cafeteria for breakfast. 6:50. Okay, that gave her a half hour to eat and find her first class. What was her first class? Eat first, check schedule later…
She burst through the cafeteria doors, running to the line. Fooooood…no! Ogle later, hurry now! Grabbing a bowl of fruit and a bagel, she plopped down at the nearest table, ignoring the startled looks of the people already there. "Hi, I'm Leslie, yes, I'm from an alternate dimension, yes, all this is just a comic there, and no, my powers haven't developed yet." With that she viciously began attacking her breakfast.
One of the students at her table cleared her throat. "Ummm…I'm Julia."
"Hi, nice ta meet ya." Nice, polite, eat faster! "So, what do ya do?"
"Limited energy-matter conversion. I'm trying to get better, but still can't do anything really big."
"Interesting." Swallow, bite, chew, swallow…done! Wiping her mouth, Leslie pulled out her schedule. "Let's see first class is…aw, damn!"
"What?" Julia asked curiously.
"A.P. English."
"That's my first class, too. What's wrong, don't you like English?"
"Love it. It's the teacher, Emma Frost, I'm not real keen on."
"Oh," Julia said, smiling slightly. "She is…different."
"Uh-huh. This won't end well."
At 7:23 Leslie and Julia burst into their classroom, panting and out of breath.
"Nice to see you girls could make it," Emma said dryly from behind her desk. Julia blushed, but Leslie ignored her.
Emma hadn't been present at the meeting Xavier had had about Leslie, so it was the first time Leslie had gotten a chance to see her. Well, I think 'slut' just about sums it up…
The ringing of the bell disturbed her thoughts, bringing her back to reality. Emma continued to sit at her desk, apparently grading papers.
After five minutes of this, Leslie looked around. Everyone else was taking notes on…nothing? Finally, Leslie raised her hand. "Uh, Ms Frost?"
Emma's gaze snapped to hers. "Yes…what's you're name?"
"Leslie Corring. Not to be rude, but I'm pretty sure I've missed something…" She heard laughter, but decided to ignore it.
Emma raised one of her oh-so-delicate eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Um…you do know I can't hear telepathy, don't you?"
This time the laughter was much louder. Emma may have blushed, but it was gone in a flash. "I see. Well, then, we'll just have to have class out loud." There was a sneer in her voice as she said this. "Get the earlier notes from someone else. Now, back to Jane Austen…"
Leslie slumped down in her seat as she began to take notes with everyone else. It was gonna be a loooonnnggg day…
Give me Kurt or Hank any day! I can't stand that woman! Part of it, I suppose is my own fault—I have this thing with women who have affairs with married men. Still, she is such a slut!! EVERYTHING is RIGHT THERE!! Plus, I'm pretty sure she hate's me cause she can't get into my mind. Well, too bad for her!
I'm going to kill whoever made up my schedule! I have basic combat with Wolverine, survival skills with Wolverine, and combat aid with Jean! Apparently, since my powers aren't developed yet, they thought these were the most logical training classes for me. Uh-huh, yeah. I can't freakin' MOVE I hurt so much!!
At least I have Julia to complain to. She's nice, I guess, even if she's scared of me like the rest of 'em. But hey, beggars can't be choosers!
Leslie lay prone on her bed, unable to move. Soft…lovely softness…kill Logan…kill Jean…
A knock at the door interrupted her wonderful plotting. "Come in," she groaned.
The door opened to reveal Hank. "Leslie, I was looking at some…are you alright?"
"I just spent three hours training with Wolverine and an hour with Jean. Alright and I aren't even in the same hemisphere."
"Ah," Hank said knowingly, sitting on her desk chair. "If you'd like, I can always give you some Tylenol."
"No, I'm fine," Leslie lied, sitting up carefully. "Was there something you wanted?"
Hank sobered as he remembered. "I was going over your test results and found this." He tossed the pack of paper to her.
Leslie picked it up curiously, then tensed when she realized what the figures meant. "Found that, did you?"
"Yes. Leslie, I'd like to recommend some counseling—"
"No, Hank," she said firmly, tossing the results back to him. "I don't want anyone to know. It's my business, no one else's."
"But, Leslie, this is a difficult time for you. Wouldn't it be helpful to talk to someone else about this?"
"Hank, I said no. I'm dealing with it my way, okay? I don't want to talk about it, and I don't want anyone else to know. Especially not Xavier. Got it?"
Sighing, Hank stood up. "While I think you're wrong, doctor-patient confidentiality forces me to accept you request. But, Leslie, if you do ever want to talk, just come to me, alright?"
"Sure, Hank," Leslie said, but the tone in her voice made it clear that that would never happen.
Shaking his head, Hank left.
Closing the door behind him, Leslie sat down at her desk and folded her arms. There were some things she just didn't want to think about. Well, that plan had just been shot to hell.
Groaning, she stood up. I need a drink.
You'd think they'd make it more difficult to get the beer, considering that this is a school and all. I mean, I go in the kitchen, open the fridge, and grab some. Ridiculous. Not that I'm complaining, mind.
Sighing, Leslie sat under the tree outside, enjoying the night and the beer. She took a deep swig, which she proceeded to spray all over the place when a voice suddenly scared her to death.
"Pretty sure yer underage, kid. Not to mention it's past curfew."
Wiping her mouth, Leslie turned to see Logan—Wolverine—walk over to her and sit next to her. She snorted at his comment.
"When you've been thrown into an alternate timeline and been told you can never go home, then you can lecture me about underage drinking. Until then, you can join me." She handed him a can.
Surprised by the fact that she wasn't screaming in terror—the reaction he normally got—Logan shrugged and took the can, draining half of it in one draught. He smacked his lips. "Good choice, kid. This is Chuck's stash." He finished the can, then looked at her. "I should report ya and send ya to bed."
"Probably," Leslie agreed, drinking from her own can. "But you won't."
Wolverine raised his eyebrows. He grinned at her. "Why not?"
"Cause I'd just sneak out again. This way, you're being the responsible adult and making sure I don't overdo it."
He laughed at that. "Alright, kid. Just tonight, though, got it?"
"Sure."
They sat in silence for a while, Logan starting a new can, and Leslie finishing her current one. Sighing, she sat back against the tree. "Does it ever get easier?"
"What?"
"Life."
A moment passed, then, "No. It doesn't."
Leslie nodded, then took a swig. "Didn't think so," she said a minute later. "But…I was hoping…"
Logan studied her. "It doesn't get easier. But you get stronger."
Leslie let a tear fall. "I don't want to be strong. I don't want to care. I just want to wake up, and all of this to be a dream."
"Most of us do."
They let the silence fall again. Eventually, Logan glanced at his watch. "You better head in. Got class tomorrow."
"Class. Fuck, I'm supposed to have Sense and Sensibility read! Emma'll freakin' kill me!"
Logan laughed. "Should've thought of that before you started drinking."
"Go to hell."
Logan looked at the ground. "Crap, kid, how many have you had?"
"Not enough."
Chuckling, Logan lifted Leslie to her feet. Immediately, she fell back down. He sighed and picked her up.
"Lemme go. I'm fine."
"You're drunk. Chuck'll kill me."
"You've got a healing factor. You'll live." Closing her eyes, she did the smartest thing she'd done all night—she passed out.