Chapter Two

Faith was certain that Xavier's was the biggest privately owned building she had ever seen. The place was massive, and empty.

Agent Holland – who was actually called Scott Summers – had dropped her and Broussard – Remy LeBeau – in the grounds, about a mile from the main building. The two men had spent the entire trip sitting in the cockpit, Scott focussing on piloting and Remy sleeping, sprawled across his seat with the grace of a particularly lazy cat. The short walk to the mansion was therefore her first real opportunity to find out about her new home.

'How long have you been here?' She asked the tall mutant.

''Bout t'ree months.'

'So how many kids are there?'

'About t'ree, four dozen. Most o' dem don't like to be called kids. Gambit be one o' de eldest, but not by much.'

'And they're all mutants?'

'For de most part. Sometime, a normal person come here wit' dere brother or sister, but not often.' He glanced at her. 'What's de matter, p'tite?' She glared at him. Although she was six inches shorter than him and Remy possessed the kind of confidence that came from never having been pushed to his limits, he found himself taking a step back.

'Three things are the matter, Gambit. One, your attitude. Two, your accent, and three, don't call me petite. Comprehend?'

'Apologies. This thief, he likes people to underestimate him.' He smiled endearingly. 'But what should I call you, then?'

'Faith.' She snarled, and stalked towards the mansion, managing, despite her shorter legs, a pace that had her companion running to keep up.

The best thing about living at Xavier's, Jubilation Lee had long ago realised, was the holidays, when it was just her and half-a-dozen others who had nowhere else to go, and they pretty much had the run of the place. Oh, there were chores and rules still, but otherwise they were free to do as they pleased, so it seemed to her utterly insane that what one of her newest friends pleased was to lock herself in her room and mope.

Jubilee had banged on Rogue's door continuously for over a minute before the older girl had responded, yelling at her to go away. After a brief impasse she had resorted to picking the lock and yelling her into action, which was how the two of them came to be headed downstairs towards the garage when the front door opened and Remy ushered Faith inside.

Rogue was quick to judge people on first impressions, and usually correct in her assumptions, while Jubilee tended to spend longer evaluating them – she didn't trust anyone easily, still didn't trust the staff of the school at which she had spent the last eighteen months of her life. Had they paid attention to Faith both of them would have felt a strong urge to befriend the older girl, whose appearance and body language practically screamed 'shat on by the planet and working a tough-girl façade' to anyone with their experiences. However, since Faith was accompanied by Gambit neither of them did more than glance at her, before returning their attention to the star attraction. Rogue flinched and moved slightly back, almost unconsciously putting Jubilee between her and the Cajun. Jubilee simply put on her friendliest, least lust-addled grin and worked very hard at maintaining the expression in the face of Remy LeBeau wearing an extremely rumpled suit.

Below them, Gambit pointed his charge to the Professor's office, and then looked up to see two of the mansion's most fascinating pieces of jailbait staring down at him.

'Ladies.' He saluted them with a smile. 'Goin' somewhere?'

'Mall.' Jubilee managed, without stuttering or drooling. Below them Remy struggled to keep from laughing out loud. He'd long-since become accustomed to his effect on the more hormonal members of both genders, and in his easy-going, good-natured, way, had taken to using it to his own advantage.

'Y' want to do Gambit a favour?' He asked pleasantly.

Inside the study Faith found herself facing a lean, impressive-looking bald man who was seated behind a large desk. It took her a moment to realise that said desk was slightly higher and wider than normal in order to fit over the wheelchair in which he sat. Standing behind him was...

'Cookie Monster?' She whispered in astonishment. She was rewarded by the biggest, toothiest grin she had ever seen.

'I am Professor Charles Xavier.' The guy behind the desk told her. 'This my assistant, Dr Henry McCoy.'

'Hey.' She muttered.

'Greetings and salutations, dear lady. Please, call me Hank.' Declared the big blue guy, leaning forwards and extending what was, under the fur, the longest, brawniest arm she could remember seeing. When she shook his hand, she pushed slightly, felt the give, and without exerting she could tell that she was stronger than him. He realised it too, and his eyes widened slightly.

'Henry?' The bald guy said, and he looked round.

'My most heartfelt apologies for my distraction, Professor. I was simply sidetracked by the strength that our guest was displaying.'

'Yeah. I get that a lot.' Faith said. 'So . . . You're a mutant, right?'

'Indeed.' If he had fewer fangs, his expression could have been described as 'beaming'.

'Most of us here are.' The Professor interjected.

'I'm not.' Said Faith.

'How, then, would you explain your remarkable physiological capabilities?' Hank asked her.

'You wouldn't begin to believe me.' She replied.

'Try us.'

'I'm the mystical avatar of an ancient power put on this Earth to defend humanity against the forces of darkness.'

'It does seem somewhat implausible . . .' Hank said mildly.

'Yeah, that's pretty much what I said.'

'We can, however, perform certain straightforward procedures that will appraise both the extent and the origin of your abnormal abilities.' Hank told her.

'Whatever the results, and even if you choose not to allow yourself to be tested, you are welcome here.' The Professor went on. 'I would add that this is conditional on your attending classes at least until you graduate high school, and on you not harming any of your fellow students.'

'High school? Kind of old for that, aren't I?' All this was slightly overwhelming. Twenty-four hours ago she'd never knowingly met a mutant before in her life, and now she was in a room with two of them, both clearly a lot more intelligent than she is, having been flown there by two more, both of those extremely good-looking.

'Don't worry. Many of our students have been on their own for a while before they come here, and start off a little behind academically. There's something else we need to discuss, though, Faith. I don't know if you are aware of this, but . . .'

'She's a millionaire.' Agent Sawyer was working on her partner's laptop.

'What?' Bishop was re-reading Faith's confession.

'Her accounts have been activated.'

'Where from?' He rumbled.

'New York. There was a credit card issued there two hours ago. The girl now has access to all the funds she could need – which means presumably so does whoever she's with.' Further discussion was interrupted by the reappearance of Wesley, accompanied by a tall, shaven-headed black man and a slim young brunette.

'Agents,' he began, 'these are my associates, Charles Gunn and Cordelia Chase. These are agents Sawyer and Bishop.'

'Pleasure, man.' Gunn shook hands with them, nodding his head to Lucas and smiling at Veronica.

'Hi.' Said Cordelia. 'Wesley says Faith's loose.' Lucas nodded.

'What can you tell us about her?'

'Psychoslut? Likes include killing people, leather, promiscuity and violence. Dislikes include me, Wesley, and pretty much every other human being on the planet, although she may have had a thing for Buffy back before the coma.'

'Buffy?' Asked Veronica. Wesley was shaking his head and making furious faces at the younger woman.

'Uh, just this girl I was at school with. No real story there.'

'But she knows Faith?'

'She knew her. And a month ago I would have immediately recommended calling her to help track Faith down.' Wesley paused, clearly uncomfortable. 'Unfortunately, she, she died.'

'I'm sorry.' Veronica said, and it was clear that she meant it. There was a moments silence, and then...

'We may have a location for Faith.' Lucas told them.

'Where?' Asked Wesley.

'New York State.'

'Sounds like we don't have a problem, then.' Commented Gunn. Everyone turned to look at him. 'What? So this chick with a grudge going for Angel has relocated to several thousand miles away. Sounds like good news, right?'

'Gunn, you've never met Faith. She's unpredictable, and very dangerous. Wherever she goes, she will wreak havoc.'

'Okay, I get that. But if she's gone to New York, how is she our problem?' He shrugged, and then turned towards the stairs. 'Just asking is all.' He vanished into the depths of the hotel.

'Well, that was helpful.' Cordelia pointed out. 'You were saying?' This to Veronica.

'We were hoping you could help us narrow it down a little.' For some reason Cordelia seemed slightly disturbed at that.

'How would I be any help?'

'You know her. Did you say you were at school with her?'

'Yeah, like Little Miss Killing Spree ever actually went to school? No, I got knocked unconscious by her once. If you're really that interested, I'll fill you in on how much fun that wasn't. I never spent much time with her, though. Ask Wesley, he was her Watcher.'

'Her what?' All eyes were now on the Englishman.

'A sort of . . . supervisor. It was my job to try and keep Faith out of trouble. I think we're all well aware of just how successful I was at that.'

'Well, congratulations. You are now our official expert and source on Faith Wilkins. Feel like a trip to New York?'

Faith emerged from Xavier's office with an appointment for examination and evaluation the following morning, and also with her very own credit card.

Gambit was waiting outside with two girls.

'Faith, Remy would like you to meet two of his dearest friends. Dis is Rogue.' A slim, shy-looking girl with a white streak in her hair, seventeen trying for twelve. There was nervousness in her manner belied by the strength in her eyes. For some reason she was wearing opera gloves and military dogtags.

'Hi.' She said, nervousness evident here as well. She had a trace of a Southern accent.

'And . . .' Remy attempted to continue, but was interrupted.

'Jubilation Lee, Jubilee, great to meet ya, chica.' Short, loud, annoying, sixteen with the eyes of a thirty-year-old, the girl in the yellow trenchcoat seemed to be taking adolescence to an extreme. As a past master of the tough façade and behavioural smokescreen herself Faith could tell there was a lot more to both of these girls than met the eye.

'De girls have agreed to take you into town wit' dem.' Gambit went on. She looked at him.

'Yeah?' She asked. 'What for?'

'You goin' to live in dose clothes?'

'So,' Jubilee asked ten minutes later, leaning forward between the front seats. 'Where'd they dig you up from?'

'Prison.' Faith said shortly. Rogue was driving. From what she had seen so far, Rogue drove extremely well, and also extremely cautiously. 'Northern California Women's Facility, Stockton.'

'Cool.'

'What were you in for?' Rogue asked. She didn't seem to talk much, but then, as Faith had noticed in the preceding few minutes, no one did when Jubilee was around.

'Murder two.' She was doing an extremely good impression of nonchalance.

'And they just swept in and pulled you outta there?'

'They asked me if I wanted to go. I wasn't doing any good where I was. There were precisely two reasons why I turned myself in, and one of them died and the other one – stopped visiting just after.'

'Oh. Well, I guess . . . sucked to be you, huh?'

'Briefly, yeah. Things are looking up, though. Hey, you share a house with him, what kind of a guy is Remy?'

'Oh, he's just like any other man, only more so.' Jubilee told her. Rogue, for some reason, giggled.

'You mean untrustworthy scum only out to get laid?' Faith asked conversationally.

'Yep, that sounds like Gambit to me. 'Cept he says we're jailbait.'

'We are jailbait, Jubes.' Rogue pointed out.

'So is he, practically.'

'So, uh, what about the other students? 'Cause you two can't be it.'

'It's the holidays. They've all gone home.'

'So why . . .'

'The mansion is home.' Jubilee cut her off. Faith nodded to herself.

When Scott reached the Professor's office Hank had already headed back to the lab to go over the new girl's existing medical records.

'Faith.' Xavier began as Scott, slightly awkwardly as ever, sat down.

'I take it you've met her?'

'Yes. Obviously you thought well enough of her to offer a place here, but I'd like you to tell me the details. What impression did she make on you?'

'She's been hurt by the world. A lot, and not just because of her powers. I got the impression she's had a bad life, and when her powers manifested things just got worse.'

'The fact that she admits to having been a professional killer doesn't worry you?'

'She worked for Wilkins. He adopted her. That, to me, suggests . . .' He trailed off.

'What, exactly, do you think their relationship was?'

'She saw him as a father. She still does, though she also admits that he was using her. She told us, and I quote, 'at least he was honest about it'. I also got the impression that he's probably the only man she can remember helping her without wanting her sexually.' He paused. 'Their relationship bears close comparison to ours.' Xavier raised an eyebrow at that.

'Should I be offended?'

'Professor, she needs our help – or somebody's help. You took me in and cared for me and, though you expected my help in return, you didn't demand it. You let me choose. Faith – had a similar arrangement with the mayor of Sunnydale. I think if we can help her, and convince her that there's no obligation in return – one day she may choose to become an extremely valuable member of the team. In the meantime, we can help her.'

'Do you really think she's that much of a team player, Scott?' Xavier was surprised; normally Scott's judgement was second to none, but Faith had struck him – on admittedly very brief acquaintance – as even more ferociously independent than Wolverine.

'Not yet. She needs to learn to trust us first.'

The Professor, nodding, was about to reply, when he was interrupted by the telephone. Glancing at the caller ID, he gestured, and Scott rose and left the room.

'Xavier.'

'Xavier, you've made a serious error. Did you imagine that we would not watch the girl's bank accounts?'

'The credit cards?'

'I'm just assembling our equipment before going to the airport. We're coming to New York to look for the girl, and we're bringing a couple of old acquaintances of hers along with us. A Wesley Wyndham-Price and a Cordelia Chase.'

' ... Those names sound familiar.'

'Price is the man she confessed to torturing. He won't talk about it.'

'Can't you delay them somehow?'

'Professor, Sawyer is twice as intelligent as me, and Price and Chase are acting as if Wilkins' escape is the end of the world. Price maintains that if she refuses to come into custody with us, we stand no chance of apprehending her. He and Chase also both insist that she is not a mutant, although they will not say what they believe her to be.'

'The mystical avatar of an ancient power?' Suggested Xavier.

'Excuse me?'

'It's nothing, Bishop. I'll . . . see what I can do. If necessary, I'll assert influence at higher levels to have you both reassigned.'

'I do not think Price and Chase are going to forget easily. Or at all.'