A/N: The gruesome chapter I warned you about is coming up in about five chapters. Also, things will start happening quickly, but everything's for a reason, and all will be explained. Oh, and I just found out the most interesting thing. I was going through my old comics and found my Classic X-Men #1. In it, when Scott's powers start to return, his brown eyes turn—dum, da dum, dum—red on black. I think this is pretty obvious that Remy is the third Summers brother. No? ::grins happily:: I'm so proud.
Disclaimer:
Gambit to Bishop: "A plasma rifle against a boysenberry pie? Can you see the
crazed psychopath in this picture?"
X-Men #8
"Damn that man," Leslie hissed under her breath as she reentered her room. She grabbed a brush and began attacking her hair, damp from the shower, conversing with her reflection as she did so.
"I don't need this. I don't want a relationship. I especially don't want one with a twenty-six year old priest."
Her reflection seemed to invite her to continue.
"I mean, really, what can come of it? Nothing! And I'm seventeen! We're at totally different places in life." She put the brush down and began putting her hair in two braids.
"And, okay, so he's attracted to me. That's great, but he can't want a relationship with me. So even if I were interested, which I'm not, it wouldn't go anywhere. Right?"
She was sure that the mirror was responding affirmatively. Snapping the rubber band on her second braid, she nodded.
"Right, then. No more thinking about him. Over him. It's done." Determinedly, Leslie turned away from her mirror and went to her closet to get dressed.
But for some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about yellow eyes.
"Leslie! Over here!"
Looking up, Leslie saw Tray calling her over to his table. Grabbing a muffin, she hurried over, sitting next to Julia. "Morning."
"Hey," Julia said, smirking at her. Leslie scanned her then rolled her eyes. Apparently Julia hadn't given up on the idea of Leslie and Tray together.
"This is evil. It's Saturday. I should be in bed still. Yet, here I am, with you. My life keeps getting worse and worse."
Tray smiled charmingly at her. "Come on, Leslie, it can't be that bad."
"Sure it can," Julia said cheerfully. "Always remember, kiddies, life sucks, then you die."
Leslie looked at her. "You're not making me feel any better. You know that, right?"
"Details, details.
Leslie was about to reply when a sudden flash of malevolence came over her, followed almost instantaneously by a bowl of cereal, poured over her head. Swearing, she jumped up, coming face-to-face with Angel—the student, not the X-Man.
Angel smirked at her. "Did I spill anything on you?"
"What the hell way that for?!"
The smirk dropped. "Let's call it payback for your manifestation." She whirled around and stormed back to her table.
Leslie glowered as she stormed out of the cafeteria, ignoring the snickers, but smiled when she heard a screech and what she assumed was Julia getting Angel back.
Of course, I'll get her, too. There's nothing quite like giving revenge a personal touch. And I can get very personal.
Leslie stared at Jean, wondering if this day could get any worse. "Excuse me?"
Jean sighed, rubbing her eyes. Being around Leslie tended to induce headaches. "You're transferring from my first-aid class to Emma's telepathy."
Leslie didn't miss the wave of disgust Jean experienced when she spoke Emma's name, but chose to ignore it. "Why? I'm not a telepath!"
"No. But it's the closest class we have to train you in. Empaths are rarer than telepaths. You're the only one currently here."
Leslie decided to be blunt. "But I can't stand Emma! And she can't stand me!"
"Actually, it was her idea you transfer there."
Leslie just stared at her. Did I switch realities again?!
Julia knocked on Leslie's door, ready to plot. She received a muffled, "Come in!" Entering, she stopped short.
Now, gentle readers, you must understand Julia. When she was twelve her powers manifested. Unable to control them, she did some wild things, including turning her father's left hand into stone. (Eventually, she did repair it.) Since then, she'd seen some, as she says, "freaky shit" at the Xavier Institute.
But none of it prepared her for what she saw.
The room was dimly lit as always, a concession to Leslie's eyes. And in the center of it sat Leslie, surrounded by the biggest pile of junk Julia had ever seen, covered in glue and glitter and wearing a frustrated expression. "Um…Leslie? What are you doing?"
"Setting up."
"For….what, exactly?"
Leslie sighed. "For getting back Angel and Wolverine. Duh."
"WHOA!" Julia shouted, waiving her hands. "Uh-uh, no way. Angel, sure, but NOT Wolverine. He'll kill us!"
"You worry too much. What happened to the girl who mixed all the pudding to put over Bobby's door?"
"She ran for Vegas when you first mentioned Logan," Julia replied dryly. "Why do you need to get him back, anyway?"
Leslie scowled. "He reported me for something, and I now have to go to counseling with Jean."
"Oh."
Leslie returned to…whatever it was she was working on. "So, are you going to help me?"
"Hell, no! I told you, he'll kill us!"
Leslie glared at her. "Coward."
"Yep."
"Fine."
Julia hurried out of the room, leaving a cursing Leslie behind.
In retrospect, I probably should have listened to Julia. But I was frustrated—with Logan, with Angel, with Tray, with Kurt—you know, life in general. And I wanted to have some fun.
But, work before pleasure. I had everything ready and was about to set it up when I was called to Emma's office. I reluctantly shoved the supplies under my bed before rushing to her room…still covered in glitter, of course.
Like I said, I wanted to have some fun…