A/N: Time to answer questions! No, Leslie is not pregnant, and alcoholic, or a drug addict. No, Leslie doesn't hate Rogue, she was just trying to keep Rogue from killing both her and Bobby. When will you find out what her mutation is? Soon. I do promise that she's not a telepath or a telekinetic, though you may not like what she is. I decided to go with my original idea, and there's clues throughout the story, if you want to try and guess. There not super obvious, though. Read below, it's one of my all-time favorite scenes! Oh, and the book Leslie remember is The Magician's Nephew by C. S. Lewis, one of the Chronicles of Narnia.
Disclaimer:
Brian: "Basically, we believe that, underneath that unutterably fowl exterior,
you're halfway decent."
Kurt: "I'll agree to you staying on the team. But if you ever--"
Brian: "EVER."
Kurt: "Hurt Kitty…"
Brian: "I will without hesitation tear your head off."
Kurt: "And I will spend days mocking it and drawing pictures all over it before
teleporting it into the north sea."
Pete: "Well, the urge to go to the little boys room has now… left me." -- Excalibur #91
"That was dumb, Bobby! Dumb! Not fail-a-test dumb, either, that was I-wonder-what-happens-when-I-push-the button-labeled-'launch'-dumb! That was beyond dumb!"
"Alright, I get it," Bobby snapped, "it was dumb! Now, can we please talk about what you know?"
Leslie glared at him. "Dumb," she muttered, before sighing. "What's there to talk about? I said I wouldn't tell anyone. None of my business."
"Why do I doubt that that makes a difference to you?"
Leslie sighed, rubbing her head. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I know, I'm sorry I told you I know, I'm sorry I'm trapped in this whole damn dimension! BUT I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!" She grabbed the nearest object—her phone—and through it against the wall as she yelled the last part.
Stunned, she looked at the broken phone, then at Bobby. "…I'm sorry," she finished quietly.
Bobby looked at her. "Yeah, I guess you are." Carefully, he picked up the phone and handed it back to her. "It should snap back together." Seeing her puzzled look, he sheepishly grinned. "I used to have one just like it."
Leslie managed a small smile in return. "Thanks."
"No problem. That's what I'm here for. Well, that and in case the fridge breaks!" With a grin he left, still hoping to avoid Rogue.
Exhausted, physically and emotionally, Leslie curled up on her bed and fell asleep.
I slept for hours. I would have loved to have woken up, though. Because the blackness came back.
It was stronger than ever…and it wanted me. The laughter was louder and closer. I'd never cried in a dream before, but I did that night…
I couldn't take it anymore, so I did something. Something I didn't know I could do…
Panting with fear and exhaustion, Leslie shuddered on the ground. Slowly, she opened her eyes, fearing that she'd still see the blackness. It was gone.
Shakily, she stood up. She was outside, but nowhere she'd ever been before. The sun was red, the color of a dying ember. It reminded her of a book her father had once read to her as a child…the sun of a dying world. It was cold.
Hearing a noise, she turned to see a group of men, standing in front of some statue. Curious, she walked over. They didn't seem to see her. She stood in front of the statue, looked up, then gasped.
It wasn't a statue. It was a cross in the shape of an "X." And Kurt was on it. He looked at her, and such pain was in his eyes she nearly vomited. Crying anew, but this time for him, she tried to move closer, to get him down…
But the blackness pulled her back in.
Shivering, Leslie woke up. The now-familiar feeling of nausea resided in her stomach, but she ignored it, hoping it would just go away. She threw back the covers, soaking with her sweat, and stood up. Grabbing a robe, she hurried to the bathroom.
Once there, she passed the toilets and entered a shower stall, trying to wash away the nightmare with her sweat. Letting the warm water pour over her, she stood there, thinking, enjoying being in a dark that wasn't trying to get her.
It had been real.
Nothing in her doubted it for a moment. The blackness wasn't a nightmare, or at least not an ordinary one. There was a sense of malevolence in it, a will, almost. She remembered it from when she'd come here. That alone scared her.
But what scared her more was Kurt's dream. Or was it her own? She remembered reading about his nightmare, so possibly it was her own…but there was something about his eyes that made her know it wasn't.
So, Leslie mentally sighed, fairly certain I just was in someone else's dream. Also certain that the nightmare I've been having is more than a nightmare. In addition to that, I know have to figure out whether or not to tell Kurt about what the Pontiff did to him, and if I wasn't scared of Kurt before, I am now. Grimacing, she slid down the wall until she was in a sitting position beneath the water. …This is not good. Not good at all.
Eventually, she heard a knock on her stall. "Hello? Anyone in there?"
Wondering how long she'd been sitting, Leslie turned off the water and grabbed her robe. Fastening it, she opened the door to see a very startled Paige. "Not you again," she groaned, not thinking.
Paige's eyes narrowed, but her tone remained civil. "Ah thought you weren't a mornin' person."
"And Ah thought you had manners," Leslie snapped back, blinking at the bright lights. "Jeeze, what kind of lights do you guys have here? Trying to blind me?" She moved to go, but Paige grabbed her arm. Turning, Leslie noticed that Paige was looking at her rather curiously. "What?"
"…Have you looked in a mirror?" Paige asked, her voice surprisingly gentle.
"No, Paige, why?" I really have to stop being so nasty to people…
"Just…look in one, okay?"
Wondering what Paige was on, Leslie obeyed her and walked over to one of the sinks. What she saw made her yell several colorful, and, incidentally, anatomically impossible, remarks, much to Paige's displeasure.
Her once-blue eyes were jet black, which would have been enough to make her freak out, but there was more. They iris and the pupils of her eyes were indistinguishable and were spreading over the white. Already, little white was left.
"Leslie, it's okay," Paige soothed.
"Okay?! I LOOK LIKE A FREAKIN' ANIME CHARACTER!" Plus my eyes really hurt from the damn lights!
"Look, it's just your mutation."
"Paige? I know you're trying to be helpful and all, but you suck at it! Okay? So just leave me alone while I go try and find my room with the damn lights blinding me and all!
Paige sighed. "You're eyes are probably just sensitive. Here, I'll help you to your room. Get dressed, and I'll bring Doctor McCoy to check you."
"I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do." With that, Paige grabbed Leslie's arm and began to guide her. "Now, come on."
Grumbling, Leslie relented. Finally making it to her room, Paige opened the door and flipped on the lights.
"Arrggh!! Turn the lights off!"
Wordlessly, Paige obeyed. Leslie sighed in relief, then gasped when her vision cleared. She could see everything, as clearly as if the lights were on.
"I'm going now, okay?"
"Yeah, fine," Leslie said, walking over to her closet and opening the door.
Paige stared at her, then, shaking her head, left.
People should not see in the dark. Well, not the way I was. I mean, if anything, I was seeing better than I normally do! It was ridiculous! But fairly cool, too…
Hank blinked when he entered the dark room, grateful for the night-vision his current mutation had blessed him with. "Leslie?"
"Here, Hank," she said softly from her place on the bed. "Mind closing the door? Light and I apparently aren't getting along that well."
"So Paige tells me," he said dryly as he acquiesced to her demand. Setting down his bag, he sat across from her, studying her eyes. "Fascinating.
"What, you Mr. Spock now?"
Ignoring her, he pulled out a small flashlight. "Hold still." With that, he flashed it into her eyes.
"Crap! Hank, are you trying to blind me?"
"Not at all. I merely wished to test a hypothesis."
"Well, you tested, now what?"
Returning the flashlight to his bag, Hank answered her. "When the eye does not have enough light to see with, the pupil expands, attempting to gather more light. With the introduction of additional light, it contracts."
"Ooookayy,"
"You're eyes have mutated into, basically, giant pupils, allowing you to see in the dark. This, however, has made them extremely sensitive to even normal levels of light."
"So, what do I do? I mean, as far as I've been able to tell, class takes place during the day."
Hank chuckled. "Mostly, yes. For now? I suggest you wear these," he said, tossing her a pair of sunglasses. "They'll block most light. I suspected this might be the case when Paige told me of you plight, so I grabbed them."
Frowning, Leslie held them. "I'd really rather not going around wearing sunglasses forever. Cyclops I am not."
"Indeed. I believe that eventually your eyes will adjust to regular levels of light. Probably within the next week or so. After all, they just mutated last night. Which brings me to a quandary. What on earth were you doing up and in the shower at 4:30?!"
Leslie started. "…bad dream."
Hank nodded. "Ah. That explains a lot. May I suggest you mention it in your counseling session with Jean?"
"Yeah. Sure." Leslie was distracted, thinking over the dream. "Hank?"
He turned around. "Yes?"
"What…what does it mean if you find yourself in someone else's dream?"
Hank furrowed his brow. "Normally it means that the person was thinking of you at some point before they fell asleep."
"No," Leslie said, frustrated, "not like that. Like, you in their dream."
Realization dawning, Hank quickly sat back down. "Leslie, did this happen to you?"
She nodded.
"…I'd like to run some tests, if you don't mind coming down to the lab."
Sighing, Leslie stood up and put her sunglasses on. "Of course, my home-away-from-home." She followed him, barely blinking in the bright light of the hall.
"Hmmm." Hank had said "hmmm" more times than Leslie cared to count.
"What, Hank? What 'hmmm?'"
Startled, Hank looked up. "Oh, there you are, Leslie." Ready to blow, Leslie forcibly shut her mouth. "These results are…interesting, to say the least."
"Well, tell me what they are!"
Hank blinked. "Oh, of course. Well," he cleared his throat, "you are not a telepath."
Leslie stared at him. "That's it?"
Hank looked hurt. "The logical assumption to make about someone entering someone else's dream is that they are a telepath. Are you sure it was someone else's dream?"
"Hank. I'm low on sleep, have a headache from light, and my eyes have just gone nutso. Do you really want to ask me that?"
"Right. Well, frankly, I don't know how you entered another's dream, but I'll continue running some blood work."
"So…can I go?"
"Sure. Go, eat breakfast, annoy Emma."
Leslie flashed him a grin. "Was there ever any doubt about the last one?"