Title: A Change of Pace (BoP/X1 Xover) 1/?
Author: nailbunny617
Email: nailbunny617@hotmail.com
Pairing: H/Jean Grey from the first movie just so I don't get bogged down in too much Xmen canon (I think, we'll see where it takes me)
Rating: so far I'll just say PG-13 but I might get some nice girlsmut in there...
Disclaimer: This is, of course, femslash which means -- if you didn't already know -- that there will be romantic/sexual situations between two women. If that's not cool with you for any number of reasons, go away quickly. And, I don't own these characters and am making absolutely no profit from this whatsoever.
Author's Note: after the wonderful feedback I got, my ficbug bit me on the ass and I just sat down and pounded out a lot...and I've rewritten the first part because rainbow was right and when I thought about it, it bugged me so much I had to fix the XMen canon I screwed up...and then I continued the part 1. Any and all feedback is more than welcome!
Have you ever been able to just look back on a week that you've had, or a month, or sometimes (on really crazy occasions) an hour and say 'that's changed me.' Well, I think I've had more of those in my life than I have any right to. More than I wanted. And if things keep going this way, I may just end up whimpering quietly in a corner somewhere for a couple years.
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea just how I ended up in New Gotham. I mean, sure, there's an excuse and a reason, but I still don't quite get it. Charles, or Dr. Xavier to those who don't really know him, got a phone call from someone calling herself Oracle claiming she needed help. Specifically, help that came with certain psychic abilities. And since the rest of the X-Men, as we call ourselves, were mopping up the mess that came from Mystique's games with being a stand-in for Senator Kelly...well, Charles was too busy making sure a sensitive situation didn't get any worse.
Which left me. My telepathy and kinetic abilities sky-rocketed so suddenly that even Scott had noticed it, so I jumped at any opportunity to use my powers. So, reaching telepathically through the phone, I spoke with Oracle, looking for any traces of malicious intentions. And since neither I or Charles believed her to have any way of hiding her true intentions, we were inclined to believe her and I was off on a commercial liner headed for Batman's old stomping grounds since the Blackbird was currently in use.
I hate being in crowds. Lately it's become harder and harder to control my telepathy in groups, and there's nowhere to hide on a plane. Much as I tried to ignore it, my head started pounding and some of the electrical systems on the plane went wacky. So I did my best to distract myself, losing myself in the songs pumped at high volume through headphones.
I feel rather guilty, actually, that I didn't let Scott and Storm fly me, but the jet was better off used chasing Mystique than being my personal escort. That and, though I didn't dare think this even around Charles, I jumped at this chance to be alone.
The plane didn't crash, but I got a lot of thinking done. The kinds of thoughts I'm not supposed to have. I'm one of the original X-Men, a medical doctor, Scott Summers' girlfriend, and one of the supposedly more stable members of the mutant community. My life may be crazy, but I'm not content. Something is missing, and it has been for some time. I tried talking to Storm about it, but she just looked at me with her deep blue eyes and asked what was missing. If I knew, I'd have fixed it by now.
So I've been looking ever since. Shutting Scott out the way I have been isn't fair, but he's kind of like sugar to me. In my drawers I have a multitude of sweets, just in case. I always fall back on sugar when I need comfort. Sugar is safe. Sugar will never disappoint me, but it also will never surprise me. It's familiar when maybe what I need is a little strangeness.
All in all, a long-winded way of saying that I think I'm bored of living my life to everyone else's expectations. Always the good student, the good mutant, the good doctor, the good girlfriend, the good teacher but somewhere along the way I think I lost me.
When I got off the plane, I saw a young looking girl holding a sign, looking very bored, with 'Jean Grey' upside down on it in scrawled letters. That is, she looked young until I saw her eyes. They flashed unguarded for just a moment and then I saw the attitude she would like to project to the rest of the world -- an uncaring, partying brat with a chip on her shoulder the size of Storm's wardrobe.
Smirking and running a hand through my hair, I walked over to her. But before I could get anything out, she sighed loudly and asked, "So, you're the meta-chick who came running when Oracle called?"
Having decided that the best course of action was to let her believe she fooled me into believing her act, I replied, "Damn, and here I am, forgetting my running shoes. Sorry, gotta go get them."
"Okay, sorry, come with me." Laughing softly, she beckoned me to accompany her.
"So you're not Oracle?" I didn't think so, but I had no other way of knowing.
"No, but I'd have thought you had figured that out by now, being telepathic and all." Accompanying the remark was a sideways grin that had no humor in it at all. She didn't like or trust me one bit.
I had a horrible urge to just delve into this woman's mind and rummage around to my heart's content. Usually such inclinations are easily ignored, but she fascinated me to a degree that I knew wasn't good. The last person I was so enthralled by was Logan, and that turned into a flirtation that almost lost me Scott. I don't know what it was, maybe the way her act and what I'd seen for a fraction of a second in her eyes were so wildly different. So I used every ounce of willpower I had to keep my shields up to avoid accidentally overhearing anything she might be unconsciously broadcasting.
Sometimes morals suck.
"You know, Oracle wouldn't have flown me out here if she didn't trust me."
The woman stopped to look at me, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "Oracle's funny that way, she believes the best in everyone. Even when they don't deserve it."
I got the feeling that Oracle was the good cop and this woman, whoever she was, got to fill the shoes of the bad cop. And that, on occasion, Oracle had to believe in a good that this woman didn't see in her own self. Too bad I already saw it. She was good at hiding it, but I was more used to looking for it than she was at covering it up. Something about the situation depressed me.
We eventually made our way to the parking garage, where both our shoes squeaked bloody murder. What is it that the concrete made of to make it sound like you're in a movie car chase no matter just how slow you're driving? The bright Hummer that chirruped when the strangely feral woman pressed a button on her keychain gave me my first indication of just how great Oracle's resources really are.
"Get in," she almost growled at me...and yet I found myself obeying without hesitation. Strange, usually I have good instincts about people, and all I wanted to do was sit down have a days-long conversation with this woman when all she'd done was treat me with disdain and a bad-ass attitude. I suddenly realized I had no idea what I'd really gotten myself into.
And I liked that.
Instead of thinking too much about my automatic reaction to the woman, I teased her some more. "Shouldn't you be putting a blindfold on me?"
From the way she glared at me, her eyes focused on a distant point and head tilted in barely restrained annoyance, I realized that she must have had an earpiece in. And that this was an issue of contention between her and Oracle, who I surmised was on the other end. "I guess," dripping with sarcasm, she was obviously just summarizing what Oracle had told her, "since we know your real name, you can know ours. I'm Helena. And that also means you will be trusted since vengeance is easier with your full name if you turn on us. Besides, having met you, I've just gotta see why the hell Oracle thinks we need you."
I had a feeling this was the most I was going to get out of her, and I didn't want to think about what she meant by vengeance. And I also didn't want to show her what I could do, so I just gave her my most mysterious smile and settled into the carseat -- making it obvious that she couldn't intimidate me no matter how hard she tried. "Nice to meet you, Helena."
The name definitely fit. An exotic turn on a mediocre, boring name. Also one you didn't hear often, but damn...it just fit. Thought I didn't dare egg her on any further, I wanted to ask her what she could do. I had a feeling it was far more than I could imagine, since people usually don't carry themselves with such calm assurance unless they know they can handle any situation that arises.
About ten minutes into the drive, her curiosity reluctantly piqued, she asked, "So you're a meta?"
"Well, at the Xavier Institute we call ourselves mutants, but yes."
She made a face at the road and replied, "I don't like the term mutant. It just seems somehow...wrong. Meta sounds to me like an improvement on the human race as it stands. Little tweaks that could prove good or bad."
Ahh, a control freak. She seemed so used to being in control of everything, especially herself, that the idea of being called a freak or mutant unsettled her. I quietly said, "Mutant was originally a scientific term for the changes that appeared in certain people's genetic makeup -- it's society's opinion that makes it a bad thing."
Clear sky blue eyes swung my way, the thoughts swirling fast and furious, and then turned back towards the road before I could catch my breath. "How old are you?" The question was openly curious, nothing there to imply offense was meant. I hate getting older, makes me feel useless when I see all the new students arrive looking younger each year.
"Twenty-six."
"You're pretty young to be a doctor already." So Oracle had done some checking on me...good. It would have been bad had she trusted me at face value -- like I'd trusted her. But I also had certain innate abilities to forecast any malignant intentions.
"Yeah, I am." No explanation was warranted, not until I knew her better. Then I could delve into the fact that I'd started college courses still in high school, knowing that I wanted to make more of myself than the average human being. I guess being a mutant made me feel that I had to prove my worth and good intentions. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," which was younger than I had first thought. There was something haunted in her, the same thing I see in every mutant/meta's eyes. Being hated for something we were born with and couldn't help in the least aged a person more than the majority of normal humans can possibly understand. But there was more than that in her soul. I had the dangerous urge to just take all her fears and pain away. Dangerous because I barely knew her and already I liked her more than I should.
The rest of the ride went by in silence, with me staring out the window at a city that managed to look ominous even on a bright sunny day. Now that's brooding for you. We pulled up to the last thing I expected this invitingly dark woman to live in -- a clocktower. Then again, I mused, who am I to judge a person? When we were in the elevator, I could tell this place was more a fortress than an innocent apartment building. I also had the feeling that if I'd looked in any of the other apartments, there wouldn't be any tenants.
When the door opened, my attention was immediately drawn to a huge bank of moniters and raw machine power. Both the machine and the woman in the strange looking wheelchair, that is. She turned and directed her chair over to us, smiling openly. Hand extended in greeting, the redhead welcomed me with, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Oracle, but since you're already here, my name is Barbara." Her red hair, pale skin, and overwhelming beauty was definitely not the face I'd imagined for someone who called herself Oracle.
"It's nice to meet you, too."
"The flight wasn't too bad, was it?" Said with true concern in her emerald green eyes, I found myself liking her immensely. "I heard planes are pretty awful for telepaths."
With a budding respect for the woman's intelligence and thoughtfulness, I replied, "It wasn't a picnic, but I managed just fine, thanks."
At that exact moment, a blonde teenager came flying down the stairs, chattering in only the way the innocently young can, "Oh my god, she's here and no one told me?! Come on, guys, I'm part of the team now, you gotta keep me informed! So who's going to introduce me? Okay, I'm Dinah, it's nice to meet you. Jean, right?" It was said in the span of one breath and about fifteen seconds. I was impressed by her sheer lung capacity, which is saying a lot since I teach junior and senior high school kids. She finished with her hand offered in greeting, standing directly in front of me. All I could think about was how deceptive her appearances were because she was actually quite tall, but didn't really look like it.
I went to shake her hand, but as soon as our skin touched, the world went black.
Author: nailbunny617
Email: nailbunny617@hotmail.com
Pairing: H/Jean Grey from the first movie just so I don't get bogged down in too much Xmen canon (I think, we'll see where it takes me)
Rating: so far I'll just say PG-13 but I might get some nice girlsmut in there...
Disclaimer: This is, of course, femslash which means -- if you didn't already know -- that there will be romantic/sexual situations between two women. If that's not cool with you for any number of reasons, go away quickly. And, I don't own these characters and am making absolutely no profit from this whatsoever.
Author's Note: after the wonderful feedback I got, my ficbug bit me on the ass and I just sat down and pounded out a lot...and I've rewritten the first part because rainbow was right and when I thought about it, it bugged me so much I had to fix the XMen canon I screwed up...and then I continued the part 1. Any and all feedback is more than welcome!
Have you ever been able to just look back on a week that you've had, or a month, or sometimes (on really crazy occasions) an hour and say 'that's changed me.' Well, I think I've had more of those in my life than I have any right to. More than I wanted. And if things keep going this way, I may just end up whimpering quietly in a corner somewhere for a couple years.
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea just how I ended up in New Gotham. I mean, sure, there's an excuse and a reason, but I still don't quite get it. Charles, or Dr. Xavier to those who don't really know him, got a phone call from someone calling herself Oracle claiming she needed help. Specifically, help that came with certain psychic abilities. And since the rest of the X-Men, as we call ourselves, were mopping up the mess that came from Mystique's games with being a stand-in for Senator Kelly...well, Charles was too busy making sure a sensitive situation didn't get any worse.
Which left me. My telepathy and kinetic abilities sky-rocketed so suddenly that even Scott had noticed it, so I jumped at any opportunity to use my powers. So, reaching telepathically through the phone, I spoke with Oracle, looking for any traces of malicious intentions. And since neither I or Charles believed her to have any way of hiding her true intentions, we were inclined to believe her and I was off on a commercial liner headed for Batman's old stomping grounds since the Blackbird was currently in use.
I hate being in crowds. Lately it's become harder and harder to control my telepathy in groups, and there's nowhere to hide on a plane. Much as I tried to ignore it, my head started pounding and some of the electrical systems on the plane went wacky. So I did my best to distract myself, losing myself in the songs pumped at high volume through headphones.
I feel rather guilty, actually, that I didn't let Scott and Storm fly me, but the jet was better off used chasing Mystique than being my personal escort. That and, though I didn't dare think this even around Charles, I jumped at this chance to be alone.
The plane didn't crash, but I got a lot of thinking done. The kinds of thoughts I'm not supposed to have. I'm one of the original X-Men, a medical doctor, Scott Summers' girlfriend, and one of the supposedly more stable members of the mutant community. My life may be crazy, but I'm not content. Something is missing, and it has been for some time. I tried talking to Storm about it, but she just looked at me with her deep blue eyes and asked what was missing. If I knew, I'd have fixed it by now.
So I've been looking ever since. Shutting Scott out the way I have been isn't fair, but he's kind of like sugar to me. In my drawers I have a multitude of sweets, just in case. I always fall back on sugar when I need comfort. Sugar is safe. Sugar will never disappoint me, but it also will never surprise me. It's familiar when maybe what I need is a little strangeness.
All in all, a long-winded way of saying that I think I'm bored of living my life to everyone else's expectations. Always the good student, the good mutant, the good doctor, the good girlfriend, the good teacher but somewhere along the way I think I lost me.
When I got off the plane, I saw a young looking girl holding a sign, looking very bored, with 'Jean Grey' upside down on it in scrawled letters. That is, she looked young until I saw her eyes. They flashed unguarded for just a moment and then I saw the attitude she would like to project to the rest of the world -- an uncaring, partying brat with a chip on her shoulder the size of Storm's wardrobe.
Smirking and running a hand through my hair, I walked over to her. But before I could get anything out, she sighed loudly and asked, "So, you're the meta-chick who came running when Oracle called?"
Having decided that the best course of action was to let her believe she fooled me into believing her act, I replied, "Damn, and here I am, forgetting my running shoes. Sorry, gotta go get them."
"Okay, sorry, come with me." Laughing softly, she beckoned me to accompany her.
"So you're not Oracle?" I didn't think so, but I had no other way of knowing.
"No, but I'd have thought you had figured that out by now, being telepathic and all." Accompanying the remark was a sideways grin that had no humor in it at all. She didn't like or trust me one bit.
I had a horrible urge to just delve into this woman's mind and rummage around to my heart's content. Usually such inclinations are easily ignored, but she fascinated me to a degree that I knew wasn't good. The last person I was so enthralled by was Logan, and that turned into a flirtation that almost lost me Scott. I don't know what it was, maybe the way her act and what I'd seen for a fraction of a second in her eyes were so wildly different. So I used every ounce of willpower I had to keep my shields up to avoid accidentally overhearing anything she might be unconsciously broadcasting.
Sometimes morals suck.
"You know, Oracle wouldn't have flown me out here if she didn't trust me."
The woman stopped to look at me, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "Oracle's funny that way, she believes the best in everyone. Even when they don't deserve it."
I got the feeling that Oracle was the good cop and this woman, whoever she was, got to fill the shoes of the bad cop. And that, on occasion, Oracle had to believe in a good that this woman didn't see in her own self. Too bad I already saw it. She was good at hiding it, but I was more used to looking for it than she was at covering it up. Something about the situation depressed me.
We eventually made our way to the parking garage, where both our shoes squeaked bloody murder. What is it that the concrete made of to make it sound like you're in a movie car chase no matter just how slow you're driving? The bright Hummer that chirruped when the strangely feral woman pressed a button on her keychain gave me my first indication of just how great Oracle's resources really are.
"Get in," she almost growled at me...and yet I found myself obeying without hesitation. Strange, usually I have good instincts about people, and all I wanted to do was sit down have a days-long conversation with this woman when all she'd done was treat me with disdain and a bad-ass attitude. I suddenly realized I had no idea what I'd really gotten myself into.
And I liked that.
Instead of thinking too much about my automatic reaction to the woman, I teased her some more. "Shouldn't you be putting a blindfold on me?"
From the way she glared at me, her eyes focused on a distant point and head tilted in barely restrained annoyance, I realized that she must have had an earpiece in. And that this was an issue of contention between her and Oracle, who I surmised was on the other end. "I guess," dripping with sarcasm, she was obviously just summarizing what Oracle had told her, "since we know your real name, you can know ours. I'm Helena. And that also means you will be trusted since vengeance is easier with your full name if you turn on us. Besides, having met you, I've just gotta see why the hell Oracle thinks we need you."
I had a feeling this was the most I was going to get out of her, and I didn't want to think about what she meant by vengeance. And I also didn't want to show her what I could do, so I just gave her my most mysterious smile and settled into the carseat -- making it obvious that she couldn't intimidate me no matter how hard she tried. "Nice to meet you, Helena."
The name definitely fit. An exotic turn on a mediocre, boring name. Also one you didn't hear often, but damn...it just fit. Thought I didn't dare egg her on any further, I wanted to ask her what she could do. I had a feeling it was far more than I could imagine, since people usually don't carry themselves with such calm assurance unless they know they can handle any situation that arises.
About ten minutes into the drive, her curiosity reluctantly piqued, she asked, "So you're a meta?"
"Well, at the Xavier Institute we call ourselves mutants, but yes."
She made a face at the road and replied, "I don't like the term mutant. It just seems somehow...wrong. Meta sounds to me like an improvement on the human race as it stands. Little tweaks that could prove good or bad."
Ahh, a control freak. She seemed so used to being in control of everything, especially herself, that the idea of being called a freak or mutant unsettled her. I quietly said, "Mutant was originally a scientific term for the changes that appeared in certain people's genetic makeup -- it's society's opinion that makes it a bad thing."
Clear sky blue eyes swung my way, the thoughts swirling fast and furious, and then turned back towards the road before I could catch my breath. "How old are you?" The question was openly curious, nothing there to imply offense was meant. I hate getting older, makes me feel useless when I see all the new students arrive looking younger each year.
"Twenty-six."
"You're pretty young to be a doctor already." So Oracle had done some checking on me...good. It would have been bad had she trusted me at face value -- like I'd trusted her. But I also had certain innate abilities to forecast any malignant intentions.
"Yeah, I am." No explanation was warranted, not until I knew her better. Then I could delve into the fact that I'd started college courses still in high school, knowing that I wanted to make more of myself than the average human being. I guess being a mutant made me feel that I had to prove my worth and good intentions. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two," which was younger than I had first thought. There was something haunted in her, the same thing I see in every mutant/meta's eyes. Being hated for something we were born with and couldn't help in the least aged a person more than the majority of normal humans can possibly understand. But there was more than that in her soul. I had the dangerous urge to just take all her fears and pain away. Dangerous because I barely knew her and already I liked her more than I should.
The rest of the ride went by in silence, with me staring out the window at a city that managed to look ominous even on a bright sunny day. Now that's brooding for you. We pulled up to the last thing I expected this invitingly dark woman to live in -- a clocktower. Then again, I mused, who am I to judge a person? When we were in the elevator, I could tell this place was more a fortress than an innocent apartment building. I also had the feeling that if I'd looked in any of the other apartments, there wouldn't be any tenants.
When the door opened, my attention was immediately drawn to a huge bank of moniters and raw machine power. Both the machine and the woman in the strange looking wheelchair, that is. She turned and directed her chair over to us, smiling openly. Hand extended in greeting, the redhead welcomed me with, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Oracle, but since you're already here, my name is Barbara." Her red hair, pale skin, and overwhelming beauty was definitely not the face I'd imagined for someone who called herself Oracle.
"It's nice to meet you, too."
"The flight wasn't too bad, was it?" Said with true concern in her emerald green eyes, I found myself liking her immensely. "I heard planes are pretty awful for telepaths."
With a budding respect for the woman's intelligence and thoughtfulness, I replied, "It wasn't a picnic, but I managed just fine, thanks."
At that exact moment, a blonde teenager came flying down the stairs, chattering in only the way the innocently young can, "Oh my god, she's here and no one told me?! Come on, guys, I'm part of the team now, you gotta keep me informed! So who's going to introduce me? Okay, I'm Dinah, it's nice to meet you. Jean, right?" It was said in the span of one breath and about fifteen seconds. I was impressed by her sheer lung capacity, which is saying a lot since I teach junior and senior high school kids. She finished with her hand offered in greeting, standing directly in front of me. All I could think about was how deceptive her appearances were because she was actually quite tall, but didn't really look like it.
I went to shake her hand, but as soon as our skin touched, the world went black.