Author's Note: Aww…thank you guys for the reviews. I hope to keep up this pace of updating every other day or so.
Chapter 13:
As the X-Jet lifted off the ground, Mary looked down out of one small window and felt another sob catching in her throat. She caught it and choked down hard on her sorrow. She was homesick already, watching Nana wave from the front step, but she would not cry in front of these people again.
From the earth, which was quickly pulling away from them, Mary could see Nana smiling through streaming tears. The look of pride in the old woman's eyes was the only thing that kept Mary from forcing these people to land their jet right now and leaving her where she belonged. Of course, Nana would not have allowed that. She would have grabbed Mary by the arm and walked her to New York, if that's what it took to get her there. There was no arguing with Nana when she knew she was right.
And she's always right, Mary thought with a sad grin.
The jet moved quickly upward, and Mary gripped the arms of her chair anxiously. This was the first time she had ever flown, and the thought of hurtling through the air was a little intimidating, no matter how impressive the small jet was.
As they climbed in altitude, Mary felt like her stomach was now roommates with her esophagus and she breathed slowly to calm herself down.
Xavier sensed the girl's discomfort and glanced over at her sympathetically. She looked very pale, causing her large dark eyes to stand out significantly on her face. To the Professor, she looked as anxious about the flight as she was about leaving home.
"Don't worry..." Xavier began, "The trip is much smoother once we are aloft."
Mary nodded and swallowed, though the look on her face was doubtful. Xavier noticed how unhappily she was looking down out the window and tried to reassure her.
"The flight won't be long," he said, and then added with a smile, "We fly a little faster than what is normally allowed to aircraft."
Mary glanced sideways at the Professor and nodded again, not yet trusting herself to speak without her throat closing. Silently, she focused her mind and breathed deeply. She was not going to sit here like a mime the entire way to New York. After a moment, she spoke.
"Can I..." she began and inhaled before continuing, "Can I call my grandmother when we get there? She just wanted to know we got there safe.
"Of course," Xavier said, "Your room will have its own phone, which you are free to use at any time. Many of the children come from quite a distance away and a few like to call home everyday. Luckily, we have very understanding long-distance carrier."
Mary grinned, "Yeah, I guess so. What about holidays or if I needed to come back right away?"
"You are always free to return home at any time," Xavier said, "If you wished to leave tomorrow, it could be arranged as easily if you had wanted to leave six months from now."
Mary nodded slowly and Xavier smiled sympathetically.
"I understand this must be difficult for you," he said, "I'm sorry your decision had to be so sudden..."
"It wasn't," Mary said sharply, "I told you...I probably knew you were coming before you did."
She gave the Professor a quick apologetic glance.
"It's just that...I haven't seen anything past this point yet. My visions always end just when I decide to go with you all. I guess I'm just used to always knowing what coming...this is the first time I'm flying blind."
Xavier looked at her for a moment before responding. He was beginning to understand her apprehension more clearly.
"Flying blind..." he repeated softly, "Perhaps...but not flying alone."
Mary turned to face the Professor and held his gaze firmly. His simple words struck a chord in her, and the doubt she felt about her decision faded a little.
When she first learned through her vision that Charles Xavier would be joining the others to find her, a part of her had been afraid to meet the man she felt may have caused the attacks on the world eight months before. She had not been prepared to meet someone with that much power.
However, Xavier did not strike her now as having any violence or malicious intentions in him. She suddenly felt a new doubt, about whether the "Charles" the vision spoke of was Charles Xavier. How could a man so intent on helping others cause so much pain?
"Thank you," Mary finally said, "It's good to know there's others out there who can..."
Mary paused and inhaled sharply as the jet shimmied from air turbulence. Her stomach did a cartwheel and she closed her eyes. A wave of nausea passed over her. Her visions may make her sick and give her headaches...but even they were way better than this.
The jet dipped again and Mary's eyes shot open.
"Excuse me..." she mumbled as she stumbled out of her seat towards the back of the craft.
Second door to the left, Xavier sent her telepathically, cutting off the connection as the small bathroom door slammed shut.
***
Inside the general store, owned and operated by a "Mr. Duchak" for over twenty years, the faint roar of a passing aircraft was heard again by the proprietor.
Duchak stood on the front steps of the store and looked up into the sky, his aged hands rubbing at the knots in his lower back. He had lived in this town in Arizona for a long time, but he knew his place in this dusty land was about to be reassessed.
He stamped out the butt of his cigarette and walked back into his small entrepreneurial placement.
Not much had changed in the two decades he had been assigned this post, the walls and windows, cracked floors and two slowly revolving ceiling fans, the shelves and counter, all looked as they did when Duchak first arrived (aside from being a bit more weathered).
However, he did not look on this place with any kind of nostalgia or fondness. To him, it was a prison, and he hoped his sentence was about to end. They had assigned him to watch the girl, inform them of any changes or events in her life that might be significant.
So far, he had filed only one report. Ten years earlier...to which he received only one response. Await further instructions.
None had ever come, and now he was about to make his second report in twenty years. He hoped it would also be the last.
Duchak walked slowly into the back room, though it was no longer the movement of an old storeowner. It was the march he had been trained to walk, proud and straight, with a quiet gleam of hope in his eyes.
From his old fashion roll top desk, Duchak withdrew a large high-band communications radio. It was dusty and outdated, but still looked very out of place in the aging general store. He twisted the dial to the correct frequency and heard the buzz of background noise fade away. He pushed in the large button that read "SEND" and smiled callously as he spoke.
"Position Nineteen to Base," he said in a voice few in town would have recognized, "Target 217 has been identified by C.X. Assumed destination, New York. Please report and advise. Over."