Title: A Change of Pace (BoP/X1 Xover) 2/?
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. Please don't sue me, you won't get anything valuable from me anyway.
Author's Note: Thank you all SO much for the positive feedback, and for not coddling me and telling me like it is. Real life kicked me in the teeth, otherwise I'd have gotten this out sooner. Hopefully things will relent soon...I'll get this story out as I get it done. Any and all feedback is welcome, and I even have a fire extinguisher if you feel that I need it!
* * * * * *
I don't really know how long I was out, though I've been reassured it wasn't more than a couple minutes. All I really remember is hearing a half-hearted argument.
"Well going into the kitchen and getting those damn poptarts isn't helping." Which was said in the most teacherly tone known to man.
So I wasn't terribly surprised to hear in an equally condescending and know-it-all tone, "And sitting here staring at them is helping how...?" I could almost see Helena gesturing questioningly with a sweep of an arm directed my way. From the strained silence, I gathered that Barbara didn't really have any valid reasons, it just felt better to be focusing on something other than her helplessness. Helena continued, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather wait them out than try to do any tests. I mean, it was touching that got them in trouble in the first place, who knows what really set them off. I didn't even want to move them, remember?"
And I could swear I heard the wheels grinding in Oracle's head, because she sounded far away. "No, I think it was just some reaction between a powerful telepath and a relatively uncontrolled touch telepath. Maybe they're like magnets, they repel each other if they're too close."
Right on cue, I groaned, "Why didn't anyone warn me?"
Sounding abashed, Barbara replied, "I'm sorry, my research into telepathy never said anything about a possible reaction between touch telepaths and...well...regular ones."
Opening my eyes but not yet willing to risk moving, I was saved from further expressing my annoyance -- let's face it, how on earth could even the great Oracle have really predicted this -- when Dinah let out a soft curse. We both sat up gingerly at the same time, eyeing each other warily from a safe distance between the couch I was on and the loveseat she was on. I remember thinking, however completely unrelated, that she should have had the couch because she is a couple inches taller than me. I'm more Helena's height.
Helena. I don't know why she intrigued me so deeply. I really don't. It wasn't her exotic beauty, although that was distracting enough on its own, or the way she treated everyone with the same amount of disdain...it was something much more indefinable than that. Even with my shields at their highest, I could feel the strength of her character swirling around in her mind.
It was amazing.
It was intoxicating.
It was scary as hell.
"Not to sound impatient, but is that mu-- uh, meta still on the loose?"
The look of embarrassment and concern on the redhead's face vanished almost immediately, replaced by an impenetrable mask of professionalism. This was a woman used to setting aside herself for the job. While it was impressive as hell, it was also depressing that she was so good at it. No one should have to learn that. These two were textbook cases of people who were used to carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Takes one to know one.
A couple times Kitty, or Shadowcat, tried to convince me to "find the fun." Only when I repeated the phrase to some other students of mine, they giggled and mumbled something about Buffy the Vampire Slayer before running away from my confused look. I suppose teenagers just can't grasp the concept that sometimes teachers can pull off an impressive pop culture reference. We're just not cool enough, I guess.
I wanted to help Helena find her fun.
But those were bad thoughts, ones better suited to late night, steamy dreams. The kind of dreams that make you blush in the middle of a very serious conversation. The kind that make you forget that you're in a clocktower being watched by other people who answer to codenames like 'Oracle' and whatever Helena went by.
"I'm sorry, could you start over again?" I flushed slightly pink at the realization that certain thoughts had completely taken over my mental facilities, making conversation a one-sided affair for the redhead. Sometimes I'm perversely grateful I'm a telepath, therefore more adept at hiding my more...controversial thoughts.
A slightly confused and annoyed expression came over Barbara's face, quickly to be replaced by the professional calm. In fact, I may not have seen anything at all but forged minute differences in my mind from her general mood. Shields from hearing a person's thoughts are one thing; completely cutting off all psychic contact is another. And it's damn near impossible. In any case, I doubt even those closest to her could tell the change in mood.
Which brought my mind back to the dilemma that persuaded Oracle to seek out my help, albeit indirectly.
A Picasso on loan from Le Louvre for two months had walked out on the exhibit's opening day, even though no one was certain exactly when it disappeared during the day -- just that around three in the afternoon the painting looked hazy for about fifteen minutes and then completely disappeared.
A brand new top of the line, top secret computer chip, had disappeared from a high-tech computing company's R&D lab during its final testing.
A senator's child, not yet out of grade school, had been viciously garroted where he stood behind his father on a public speaking podium while his dad spoke out against any and all anti-abortion laws.
The only solution anyone had been able to come up with was that there was a mutant who could project images of what he or she wanted other people to see. While it's a pretty neat trick, this mutant had used his/her abilities to not only steal precious items but had also carried out gruesome public assassinations for hire. Because of the mutant's ability to trick the human mind, most of the crimes were carried out in broad daylight with a large crowd, making any video surveillance a moot point. What images had been caught seemed to have been distorted by the psychic images, although even Oracle was stumped as to how that happened. I suppose I don't need to explain that the authorities were at a complete loss, relying solely on what little they knew about metas/mutants to try and figure out just how the crimes were committed. The resulting public backlash against the meta community, both in New Gotham and worldwide, was horrendous. Mobs executed humans and mutants alike, not caring about the human bloodshed they caused.
These were desperate times. Oracle hoped that once the actual threat was neutralized, that things could calm down once again. A part of me resented the fact that one person could create such a lynch mob. A part of me resented the fact that I was human, yet considered barely a member of the species. A part of me began to think that maybe humanity was nothing more than a bunch of snarling animals covered by a thin veneer of manners and politeness.
Who am I kidding, it was a really big part of me. It still is. But that doesn't mean I'm for the extermination or enslavement of my not-so-genetically-gifted brethren like Magneto wants. That plastic prison of the government's isn't going to hold him -- I don't know how they deluded themselves into believing it might. He'll get out and make another bid at starting a war between humans and mutants. And I'll be part of the team trying to stop just that. A small, but growing, voice in my head is asking why bother protecting people who just as soon kill me as look at me? It just doesn't seem worth it anymore.
But that's not a thought I will ever allow anywhere near Charles' mind. Ever.
Oracle, Charles and I all agreed that there was a high probability that a non-touch-reliant telepath powerful enough would be able to see through any of the images, or at the very least detect their existence. After the fourth mob-related mutant execution, Oracle decided to step it up and get me to New Gotham. Can't say I disagreed.
So there I was. I'd taken the assignment so willingly, but faced by the daunting task, I was scared. I think if my life were a movie, which sometimes I think it would be too much fodder for the big screen, I'd really love to plan out my soundtrack. Right at that moment I think I'd have had some Godspeed You Black Emperor.
I really think I have ADD sometimes.
But my wandering thoughts and Barbara's ongoing speech, which I'd spaced out on again, were interrupted when Dinah grumbled and stood up unsteadily. "Why do I always have to be the one that goes all unconsciousy? It's not fair."
Laughing, Helena playfully mussed Dinah's hair, to which she squealed and pleaded with the brunette to stop. Barbara was laughing but valiantly trying to hide it from her young friends. I couldn't help a smile myself, and I wondered how often it was that these women got to laugh like that. And when the last time I ever smiled like that had been.
I couldn't remember.
Noting my serious mood, Barbara misinterpreted it and shushed both Helena and Dinah, believing I was anxious to get down to business.
Which was how I found myself with an earpiece, standing on the balcony with a disbelieving Helena staring at me. "Me? I know how I'm gonna get down there, but how are you?" she questioned.
I sauntered over to the ledge with a little half-smile, not nearly as sure of my newfound ability as I'd have liked to be, but not willing to back down in front of the exotic woman. "Aren't you ever gonna stop talking? Come on." And with that, I lazily stepped off the edge. From the way she dashed to the ledge, eyes wide and breathing a little harder, I could tell I'd done exactly what I'd intended to do -- surprised the hell out of her. I was floating about ten feet down, openly grinning at her panicked expression.
It was actually an accident that I found out I could levitate myself. Fly in a way, really. Rogue and I had been training in one of the top floor rooms of the mansion, forced to work on our hand-to-hand combat skills by a grumpy Logan. We had been trading blows fairly equally, which was a little embarrassing considering I was supposed to be the senior member, when Rogue surprised me and threw me over her shoulder...and right out the window. Logan had rushed to the broken glass, ready to leap out and try to catch me, only to jump halfway back across the room in surprise when I reappeared in the window under my own power.
Not all that different from levitating a book. And the more I practice at it, the better I become. One really neat trick, if you ask me. I'm better at controlling my 'flight' than even Storm is with her wind powers.
When I finally found Scott, I was flushed with excitement and almost babbling. It's not as though I believed I wasn't a valuable X-Man before, but come on -- I could fly. Who wouldn't be thrilled? And in the two seconds it took Scott to regain his composure after my ecstatic news, he wasn't happy for me. In fact, I felt resentment, envy, fear, and anger. All the emotions a loving boyfriend isn't supposed to feel. Crazy old me, I thought love was supposed to be selfless and there was Scott, worried that I was going to take over his leadership role in our little band of mutants. I never let him know that he didn't hide it quickly enough. In fact, for a very long time I convinced myself I was being paranoid, that the smile he cracked after those two seconds was as genuine as our love.
Who was I kidding? I'd known Helena for all of a few hours, and already she was more impressed by my flying than Scott had been in months.
But she recovered quickly, erasing her expression of concern with that same old annoyed attitude she loves to exude, and said, "Last thing we need is a little red blob at our front door because you wouldn't take the stairs. Warn me next time you pull something like that, okay?"
Smirking, loving every second that I'd made her nervous, I responded, "Yeah, okay Helena."
Right before she jumped, she said, "Out here on comms I'm Huntress. And by the way that was pretty cool."
Then, before I could really feel my smile, she was off, racing across rooftops gracefully and I was hard pressed just to keep up. Gotta get faster at this, I remembered thinking.
Oh I got faster, alright.
* * * * *
TBC
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. Please don't sue me, you won't get anything valuable from me anyway.
Author's Note: Thank you all SO much for the positive feedback, and for not coddling me and telling me like it is. Real life kicked me in the teeth, otherwise I'd have gotten this out sooner. Hopefully things will relent soon...I'll get this story out as I get it done. Any and all feedback is welcome, and I even have a fire extinguisher if you feel that I need it!
* * * * * *
I don't really know how long I was out, though I've been reassured it wasn't more than a couple minutes. All I really remember is hearing a half-hearted argument.
"Well going into the kitchen and getting those damn poptarts isn't helping." Which was said in the most teacherly tone known to man.
So I wasn't terribly surprised to hear in an equally condescending and know-it-all tone, "And sitting here staring at them is helping how...?" I could almost see Helena gesturing questioningly with a sweep of an arm directed my way. From the strained silence, I gathered that Barbara didn't really have any valid reasons, it just felt better to be focusing on something other than her helplessness. Helena continued, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather wait them out than try to do any tests. I mean, it was touching that got them in trouble in the first place, who knows what really set them off. I didn't even want to move them, remember?"
And I could swear I heard the wheels grinding in Oracle's head, because she sounded far away. "No, I think it was just some reaction between a powerful telepath and a relatively uncontrolled touch telepath. Maybe they're like magnets, they repel each other if they're too close."
Right on cue, I groaned, "Why didn't anyone warn me?"
Sounding abashed, Barbara replied, "I'm sorry, my research into telepathy never said anything about a possible reaction between touch telepaths and...well...regular ones."
Opening my eyes but not yet willing to risk moving, I was saved from further expressing my annoyance -- let's face it, how on earth could even the great Oracle have really predicted this -- when Dinah let out a soft curse. We both sat up gingerly at the same time, eyeing each other warily from a safe distance between the couch I was on and the loveseat she was on. I remember thinking, however completely unrelated, that she should have had the couch because she is a couple inches taller than me. I'm more Helena's height.
Helena. I don't know why she intrigued me so deeply. I really don't. It wasn't her exotic beauty, although that was distracting enough on its own, or the way she treated everyone with the same amount of disdain...it was something much more indefinable than that. Even with my shields at their highest, I could feel the strength of her character swirling around in her mind.
It was amazing.
It was intoxicating.
It was scary as hell.
"Not to sound impatient, but is that mu-- uh, meta still on the loose?"
The look of embarrassment and concern on the redhead's face vanished almost immediately, replaced by an impenetrable mask of professionalism. This was a woman used to setting aside herself for the job. While it was impressive as hell, it was also depressing that she was so good at it. No one should have to learn that. These two were textbook cases of people who were used to carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.
Takes one to know one.
A couple times Kitty, or Shadowcat, tried to convince me to "find the fun." Only when I repeated the phrase to some other students of mine, they giggled and mumbled something about Buffy the Vampire Slayer before running away from my confused look. I suppose teenagers just can't grasp the concept that sometimes teachers can pull off an impressive pop culture reference. We're just not cool enough, I guess.
I wanted to help Helena find her fun.
But those were bad thoughts, ones better suited to late night, steamy dreams. The kind of dreams that make you blush in the middle of a very serious conversation. The kind that make you forget that you're in a clocktower being watched by other people who answer to codenames like 'Oracle' and whatever Helena went by.
"I'm sorry, could you start over again?" I flushed slightly pink at the realization that certain thoughts had completely taken over my mental facilities, making conversation a one-sided affair for the redhead. Sometimes I'm perversely grateful I'm a telepath, therefore more adept at hiding my more...controversial thoughts.
A slightly confused and annoyed expression came over Barbara's face, quickly to be replaced by the professional calm. In fact, I may not have seen anything at all but forged minute differences in my mind from her general mood. Shields from hearing a person's thoughts are one thing; completely cutting off all psychic contact is another. And it's damn near impossible. In any case, I doubt even those closest to her could tell the change in mood.
Which brought my mind back to the dilemma that persuaded Oracle to seek out my help, albeit indirectly.
A Picasso on loan from Le Louvre for two months had walked out on the exhibit's opening day, even though no one was certain exactly when it disappeared during the day -- just that around three in the afternoon the painting looked hazy for about fifteen minutes and then completely disappeared.
A brand new top of the line, top secret computer chip, had disappeared from a high-tech computing company's R&D lab during its final testing.
A senator's child, not yet out of grade school, had been viciously garroted where he stood behind his father on a public speaking podium while his dad spoke out against any and all anti-abortion laws.
The only solution anyone had been able to come up with was that there was a mutant who could project images of what he or she wanted other people to see. While it's a pretty neat trick, this mutant had used his/her abilities to not only steal precious items but had also carried out gruesome public assassinations for hire. Because of the mutant's ability to trick the human mind, most of the crimes were carried out in broad daylight with a large crowd, making any video surveillance a moot point. What images had been caught seemed to have been distorted by the psychic images, although even Oracle was stumped as to how that happened. I suppose I don't need to explain that the authorities were at a complete loss, relying solely on what little they knew about metas/mutants to try and figure out just how the crimes were committed. The resulting public backlash against the meta community, both in New Gotham and worldwide, was horrendous. Mobs executed humans and mutants alike, not caring about the human bloodshed they caused.
These were desperate times. Oracle hoped that once the actual threat was neutralized, that things could calm down once again. A part of me resented the fact that one person could create such a lynch mob. A part of me resented the fact that I was human, yet considered barely a member of the species. A part of me began to think that maybe humanity was nothing more than a bunch of snarling animals covered by a thin veneer of manners and politeness.
Who am I kidding, it was a really big part of me. It still is. But that doesn't mean I'm for the extermination or enslavement of my not-so-genetically-gifted brethren like Magneto wants. That plastic prison of the government's isn't going to hold him -- I don't know how they deluded themselves into believing it might. He'll get out and make another bid at starting a war between humans and mutants. And I'll be part of the team trying to stop just that. A small, but growing, voice in my head is asking why bother protecting people who just as soon kill me as look at me? It just doesn't seem worth it anymore.
But that's not a thought I will ever allow anywhere near Charles' mind. Ever.
Oracle, Charles and I all agreed that there was a high probability that a non-touch-reliant telepath powerful enough would be able to see through any of the images, or at the very least detect their existence. After the fourth mob-related mutant execution, Oracle decided to step it up and get me to New Gotham. Can't say I disagreed.
So there I was. I'd taken the assignment so willingly, but faced by the daunting task, I was scared. I think if my life were a movie, which sometimes I think it would be too much fodder for the big screen, I'd really love to plan out my soundtrack. Right at that moment I think I'd have had some Godspeed You Black Emperor.
I really think I have ADD sometimes.
But my wandering thoughts and Barbara's ongoing speech, which I'd spaced out on again, were interrupted when Dinah grumbled and stood up unsteadily. "Why do I always have to be the one that goes all unconsciousy? It's not fair."
Laughing, Helena playfully mussed Dinah's hair, to which she squealed and pleaded with the brunette to stop. Barbara was laughing but valiantly trying to hide it from her young friends. I couldn't help a smile myself, and I wondered how often it was that these women got to laugh like that. And when the last time I ever smiled like that had been.
I couldn't remember.
Noting my serious mood, Barbara misinterpreted it and shushed both Helena and Dinah, believing I was anxious to get down to business.
Which was how I found myself with an earpiece, standing on the balcony with a disbelieving Helena staring at me. "Me? I know how I'm gonna get down there, but how are you?" she questioned.
I sauntered over to the ledge with a little half-smile, not nearly as sure of my newfound ability as I'd have liked to be, but not willing to back down in front of the exotic woman. "Aren't you ever gonna stop talking? Come on." And with that, I lazily stepped off the edge. From the way she dashed to the ledge, eyes wide and breathing a little harder, I could tell I'd done exactly what I'd intended to do -- surprised the hell out of her. I was floating about ten feet down, openly grinning at her panicked expression.
It was actually an accident that I found out I could levitate myself. Fly in a way, really. Rogue and I had been training in one of the top floor rooms of the mansion, forced to work on our hand-to-hand combat skills by a grumpy Logan. We had been trading blows fairly equally, which was a little embarrassing considering I was supposed to be the senior member, when Rogue surprised me and threw me over her shoulder...and right out the window. Logan had rushed to the broken glass, ready to leap out and try to catch me, only to jump halfway back across the room in surprise when I reappeared in the window under my own power.
Not all that different from levitating a book. And the more I practice at it, the better I become. One really neat trick, if you ask me. I'm better at controlling my 'flight' than even Storm is with her wind powers.
When I finally found Scott, I was flushed with excitement and almost babbling. It's not as though I believed I wasn't a valuable X-Man before, but come on -- I could fly. Who wouldn't be thrilled? And in the two seconds it took Scott to regain his composure after my ecstatic news, he wasn't happy for me. In fact, I felt resentment, envy, fear, and anger. All the emotions a loving boyfriend isn't supposed to feel. Crazy old me, I thought love was supposed to be selfless and there was Scott, worried that I was going to take over his leadership role in our little band of mutants. I never let him know that he didn't hide it quickly enough. In fact, for a very long time I convinced myself I was being paranoid, that the smile he cracked after those two seconds was as genuine as our love.
Who was I kidding? I'd known Helena for all of a few hours, and already she was more impressed by my flying than Scott had been in months.
But she recovered quickly, erasing her expression of concern with that same old annoyed attitude she loves to exude, and said, "Last thing we need is a little red blob at our front door because you wouldn't take the stairs. Warn me next time you pull something like that, okay?"
Smirking, loving every second that I'd made her nervous, I responded, "Yeah, okay Helena."
Right before she jumped, she said, "Out here on comms I'm Huntress. And by the way that was pretty cool."
Then, before I could really feel my smile, she was off, racing across rooftops gracefully and I was hard pressed just to keep up. Gotta get faster at this, I remembered thinking.
Oh I got faster, alright.
* * * * *
TBC