------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
I grudgingly clawed back to wakefulness. It wasn't by choice, really. I'd been having the most awful nightmare in which Duncan Matthews used me for a punching bag. My room was dark; the clock on the nightstand was the only illumination other than the occasional flash of lightning. A storm raged outside the mansion. It was well after midnight, but I wasn't sure of the day. A shuffling noise from the direction of the chair grabbed my attention.
"Ah, Mr. Maximoff," came Hank's voice in the darkness. "We have got to stop meeting like this."
Oh that's right. It hadn't been a nightmare. My nervous system finally came online and pain came flooding back to me. I would have cringed except that it hurt to move. I guess there was one good thing to come out of being paralyzed. If my legs had been hurt nearly as much as the rest of my body, at least I couldn't feel them complaining.
"Hi Hank," I croaked. Man, I sounded like I'd been through a garbage disposal. I flexed my hands. The pain in my arms wasn't too bad, so I started checking my various hurts, starting with the really nasty headache. I could feel stitches underneath my hair. Impressive. There were a couple abrasions on my neck from where my t-shirt had been ground into into the skin. I wasn't about to roll over to check out my back. The very thought of doing something that stupid made my muscles protest.
Hank switched on the lamp near the bed. I squinted in the sudden light, wondering what other parts of me had been damaged. He leaned in close and took my head between his hands.
"Open your eyes wider," he said. I didn't really have a choice. It was either do it or risk having him pry my eyes open. Since he had claws, I wasn't taking any chances. He grunted, apparently satisfied. "All right, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two."
He nodded and a tiny bit of concern bled away from his face. "Well, you don't seem to have a concussion," he said as he sat back down. "Mind telling me why I get to play doctor twice in four weeks?"
Actually, yes, I did mind. Very much in fact. Duncan Matthews had beaten me to a pulp because he'd somehow found out I was dating Kurt. Exactly how he'd managed to get that information was beyond me, but it didn't change the fact that he's a narrow-minded bigot. Some people just can't handle modern relationships, I guess. I wondered if Logan told any of the other adults in the house. I didn't think so, but I hadn't thought Duncan would use me for a piñata, either. Best to play this safe.
"I had a slight disagreement with one of the football players. No big deal." That's it, just shrug it off. Pretend for a minute that you don't have to bite back a whimper every time you move. Wishful thinking on my part. I yelped as pain shot up my back.
"No big deal," Hank said with a shake of his head. "You're lucky nothing was broken."
I smiled; it was an effort. "Lucky is my middle name." He just raised an eyebrow at my lame attempt at humor. "How long was I out this time?" I asked.
"About nine hours," he told me. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about this 'slight disagreement?'" Why was he so persistent about this subject? It was a character flaw I'd noticed on all of Xavier's brats. Their concern about my well-being was overwhelming on the best of days. There were times I felt like screaming at them to leave me alone.
"It was just an argument that got out of hand, that's all." Take the hint, take the hint.
"Does this have anything to do with Kurt?" he asked. I blinked. Maybe they ran a news story about the two of us on channel four. I couldn't think of any other reason why every single person knew about us.
"What makes you think it has anything to do with," I choked back the phrase 'that little blue fuzzball' because there was a big blue fuzzball hanging on my words, "Kurt?" His eyes slid past me and a slightly amused expression came over his face. Apparently he wasn't going to answer me until I looked.
Kurt was curled up on the far side of the bed under a comforter, fast asleep. His hair had fallen into his face and fluttered in front of his mouth as he breathed. He looked almost peaceful as he slept. Almost, because he looked like he was having a bad dream. I knew there was no point in evading Hank's question or lying to the guy to get him to lay off.
"How long has he been here?" I asked quietly. It was a stretch, but I could just manage to brush Kurt's hair away from his face. Would you believe he actually nuzzled my hand like a cat?
I heard Hank stand up. A moment later, he walked around to the other side of the bed. He shifted the sleeping guy a little closer to my hand. My aching muscles thanked him profusely. Kurt twitched a couple times and I could see his tail jerking beneath the blanket.
"All afternoon," the big blue mutant said, shaking his head as he sat on the bed. "I had to give him a tranquilizer about four hours ago. He went hysterical as soon as Logan brought you home from the hospital."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"I guess you already know what the problem with Duncan was, then," I mumbled.
Hank nodded. "Yes. Lance informed the Professor, who explained the situation to the rest of the staff." He grinned suddenly. "Ororo was particularly irate at that hooligan's actions."
I glanced at the window. Rain was lashing against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
"This is irate? What happens when someone really pisses her off?"
"Ever heard of Hurricane Hugo?" I couldn't tell if Hank was joking or not, though I suspected he was quite serious.
The door opened and we both swung our heads in that direction. My hand froze on Kurt's hair, but it was Logan who entered the room. I resumed running my fingers through his hair. Since everyone knew, there was no point in hiding anything. He closed the door quietly and walked in. He glanced at Kurt but didn't say a word. That was a change. The guy was one of the most opinionated people I knew. Something in Logan's expression troubled me. He was grinning, for one. It didn't reach his eyes, either, and they glittered with an icy satisfaction.
"You idiot," he told me without preamble. The one nice thing about Logan was that he never, ever felt the need to sugar-coat anything.
"Nice to see you too. Why do you look like a cat with a really fat mouse in his claws?"
Logan snorted. Hank had a pained look on his face, as though I was juggling hand grenades. That probably wasn't too far off the mark, either. Sparring with Logan, even with words, was always a dangerous proposition.
"Charles just got off the phone with Murdock. That Matthews kid is history," Logan said to Hank. I looked at the blue guy, raising my eyebrows.
"Mr. Murdock is the lawyer on retainer for the Institute. Charming fellow, though how he manages to practice law while blind is beyond me," he explained. "He filed a grievance with the school board less than an hour after we got the call from the hospital." Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Detention seemed a little tame for a guy who beat up disabled people. Personally, I'd have pushed him in front of a bus, but it wasn't my decision either. Expulsion. Hmm. That had a nice ring to it, I guess. I think I could live with whatever the Xavier was doing.
"Good. I hope Superjock shrivels up and dies as a result," I said with a trace of my customary bitterness. Logan laughed out loud at that. Hank just shook his head. Maybe he was one of those people who believed in turning the other cheek. That would be ironic, given his mutation. There was a reason he was called Beast, you know.
The big guy rose from the bed. The mattress rose with an audible squeal. I guess the box spring wasn't designed for a five-hundred pound person. My own hundred-pounds-and-change didn't count in that equation. Hank yawned widely.
"Logan has the next shift. Have a good night, Pietro."
"G'night."
He shuffled off to his own room and bed, leaving me alone with Logan and Kurt. My furry little friend - no, boyfriend - didn't move as the door clicked shut. Neither did Logan, come to that. He just leaned against the, what was the word, armoire watching me with his arms crossed. I stared right back at him, stroking Kurt's hair. The rain spattering against the window was the only sound in the room. The silence grew quite thick and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
"What are you looking at?" I asked. My voice tried to crack as I said it, but I managed to squelch that before it happened. Whoever decided that puberty and high school should happen simultaneously was a real sadistic person.
Logan shrugged. "Nothin', kiddo." He jerked his chin at Kurt. "I don't need to tell you to be careful, do I?"
I headed that conversation off before it could get started.
"Thanks, but I already had The Talk."
Logan nodded and dropped into the chair Hank had vacated. He pushed his hair out of his face and ran a hand over his stubble.
"You get any more crap about this, you come running to me, alright?" I raised an eyebrow and shot him an amused look. His eyes swept over the lump of blankets covering my legs. "You know what I mean."
I sighed, feeling suddenly drained. "Yeah, I know. I wasn't expecting Duncan to flip out, ok? It just sort of happened. It's not a big deal," I said. Yes, I was repeating myself. That's how tired I was. Not too tired to run my mouth off, though. "It's not like you guys really give a damn, so can you please drop the fake concern?"
Logan growled at me. That's the only way to describe it. It sounded like a two-hundred pound pit bull was in my room and looking at me like I'd just stepped on its toe. It occurred to me that snapping at a guy who was programmed to be the perfect assassin was probably not the best way to extend my life expectancy.
"We don't give a damn?" he snarled in a low voice. I turned to look at him slowly, the way you'd act around a rabid animal. He started ticking off on his fingers in short, jerky motions. I could tell I'd managed to get under his skin. Great. "Scott blames himself for not being around to protect you. Sean hadda talk him outta going after that Matthews bastard when he heard the news. Lance actually hadda be restrained from breaking the guy's one good arm. Bobby locked himself in his room all during supper. Said the whole incident made him too sick to eat. Jean spent all afternoon usin' words I ain't heard since I was in the Navy. I can think of four of you kids who've been strung out and in tears since school let out. All because we don't give a damn." All right, he had a point. I held up my hand to say so, but he ignored me.
Logan jerked his thumb at the window. "Ororo," he bore in relentlessly, "hasn't been able to control her temper or her powers since she heard. There's a severe thunderstorm warning from Atlantic City up to Canada because she 'doesn't give a damn' about you." He pointed at Kurt. "And I don't think I gotta say a word about him." As if on cue, Kurt's tail snaked out from under the comforter and curled around my waist in a kind of bizarre hug. I looked down at the fuzzy blue appendage, at a loss for words. Astonishing, I know. Don't tell anyone.
My heart sank with each sentence. By the time he finished, I felt like a complete loser. I hadn't realized I had that many friends around this place. I blinked watery eyes and swallowed hard. He'd certainly given me something to think about.
"That said," Logan went on in a more conversational tone, "yer excused from classes tomorrow, but since yer doing so well you get to go back on Friday. No arguing, bub." I raised my hand in surrender. Arguing with the man was an exercise in futility. Not to mention dangerous. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head, settling down for the night. "Lemme know if you need anything," he added as he stretched out his legs.
A few minutes later he started to snore. His nose was slightly crooked, having been broken one or more times in the past. It made his snoring sound like a Mack truck shifting gears. I lay there for a long time, one arm around Kurt, the other playing with the edge of the sheet. After a while, I shut the light off. It didn't make anything less complicated. I don't know how long I listened to the rain on my window and Wolverine's rumbling, but it made me drowsy enough to doze for a while.
Pietro, my mother said, it's time to get up. I burrowed my head underneath the pillow. If I didn't have to go to school today then I didn't have to get out of bed, right? Fair's fair, after all.
"Go 'way. I don't wanna get up," I slurred, doing my best to go back to sleep.
If you don't wake up soon, I'm going to make it rain in here until you do, she answered. My mother could be so strict some...wait a moment. Rain? I blinked all the way awake and peered around the room. Logan and Kurt were gone, though the abundance of cobalt blue hair on the top of the coverlet indicated that I hadn't dreamed the events of that morning. Instead, Ms. Munroe was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.
"Good morning," she said.
I checked the clock. Yes, it was morning. Too early for my taste, but oh well.
"Morning," I replied with a yawn. The movement made my body ache and the yawn hitched halfway through as I fought down a yelp. I saw that she'd brought a tray of food up to my room. How thoughtful. "I don't suppose there's any aspirin on that is there?" I asked, pointing to the breakfast tray.
"No," she said, "but if you need any, I'll be happy to get some for you."
I thought that over. Painkillers sounded great, but breakfast trumped even that desire.
"I'll let you know after I eat," I said. Getting vertical was an exercise in pain suppression, but I managed not to cry out or curse, so it was all good. It wasn't any less difficult with assistance, but I have to admit that I felt less pained after I'd been propped up against the headboard and a couple pillows.
Someone had pulled out all the stops for this meal, I saw as she removed the cover from the tray. The sheer variety of food was impressive. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, cereal, yogurt, you name it - it was there. My stomach tried to figure out how to escape and get to the tray on its own. I picked up a slice of bacon and nibbled on it, willing my gut to behave. Mm. Crunchy.
"Thanks," I told her. "I'm really hungry for some reason."
The bed moved as she plucked an apple off the tray. For a fleeting instant I considered taking it back, but there was plenty to go around. That should give an idea of just how much food she'd piled in front of me as well as how hungry I was. One less apple wouldn't hurt. She crunched into it, chewed, swallowed.
"Lance said you hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday," she said. Good point. "I thought you'd appreciate a full meal." I'd spent several years with foster parents in the row house next door to the Daniels family. Ms. Munroe had visited her sister's family every weekend and had always made a huge breakfast on Saturday mornings. Before Evan and I had our falling- out, I'd been over to his house more often than not and had come to like his aunt's cooking. Her scrambled eggs, I'd learned, were legendary all over the neighborhood. The woman loved to cook and it showed.
I inspected the eggs in question, which confirmed my thoughts.
"Thanks for making this," I said around a mouthful of bacon.
She smiled at me and it was like looking at a memory. "You always enjoyed my cooking. Why should now be any different?" I toasted her with a glass of orange juice. She had a point.
"It's delicious. Thanks," I said again. Believe it or not, I wasn't lying for a change. "I take it you're to be my keeper for the day?" I asked, changing the subject.
She nodded. "It's been a very long time since I've spent any time with you. We used to have a lot of fun, remember?" That was true. Several summers ago she had helped my foster parents rearrange their garden. We - Ms. Munroe, Evan and myself - had spent the entire summer digging and planting. For breaks, we'd all take the subway into the city or wander around Brooklyn. Contrary to popular belief, it's not necessarily a dangerous place. Tough, maybe, but hardly dangerous. My guardians liked the fact that I was spending so much time outdoors. I was a bit of a wallflower in those days, now that I recall. That had been the summer before my speed had started to manifest.
"That was a long time ago, Ms. Munroe," I said, uncomfortable for some reason.
"True. You were very different back then," she sighed. Her phrasing bugged me until I realized that she'd already been an X-Man at that point. Small world, eh? "And please, call me Ororo. Everybody else does."
I brightened. "Sure, Ororo." It sounded odd to hear her name off my own lips. "So what's the day look like? Anything interesting planned?"
She took another bite of her apple. "I thought I'd show you my garden, if you'd like. Other than that, I have nothing in mind."
I was quickly beginning to appreciate how sedate life in this house could be. The boarding house had always been a study in chaos. Xavier's Institute was as far from that as you could get. I always had the urge to speak in a quiet voice whenever I was around the house, because it reminded me of a museum. Or an asylum. Depended on my mood. It was all starting to grow on me, though.
"Sounds great," I said. Her smile was infectious and I couldn't help but smile back. Yeah, these people were definitely starting to grow on me.
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To Be Continued.
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To My Reviewers:
Sailor X1: I promise. :) Let me know how fun it is. As for cockiness, I can never have too much. Frankly, I've learned a lot of nasty nicknames as a triple threat to the local population. (I happen to be a gay, atheistic Yankee in the Deep South. Go figure.) It never fails to amaze me how degenerate our ultracivilized society can be at times. Anyway, the Jean/Pietro animosity comes naturally. It IS an annoying nickname, and the fact that she uses his brain as a library is probably irritating in the extreme. Have to admit that it's fun to write. I'm sure the three-way date will prove amusing as it will feature the aforementioned spat between Amanda and Kurt. A better question is 'Will Kurt ever find out about Rahne?' I think Pietro is going to try to keep that under wraps for some reason. We'll find out why Wanda is staying away from her brother soon. Kurt didn't tell anyone; there is another leak yet to be revealed. Pietro merely jumped to conclusions. Give him a little credit. He was having the stuffing beaten out of him at the time. Lance's thoughts on the situation will come out, no pun intended, soon enough. Yeesh, this response was slightly lengthy. I'll get back to writing now. :) Keep responding. I have almost as much fun 'talking' with my reviewers as I do writing chapters for them to read.
Storm-Pietro: Nice to hear you're still enjoying this. :D
Moda: Ah, I swoon in your adoration. I'm generally not too worried about getting anyone down perfectly, but it's nice to hear I'm managing anyway. Duncan is indeed a jerk-off. I generally update a couple times a week. Expect more soon. Mindless dribble doesn't bother me. If you've found something on which to comment, then by all means do so. I read all reviews and take comments into consideration. It generally doesn't change my mind, but I do consider them anyway. ;)
Ultramatt17: Less of a mean streak than a twisted sense of humour, then. I know that if I were the world's most powerful telepath I'd probably do the same thing. Yes, it was an intense chapter. It didn't turn out at all like I envisioned when I wrote it, either. Chapters eleven and twelve were meant to be filler until I got around to the whole Friday-date storyline, but Duncan showed up and started raising hell. Odd how characters can get away with that sometimes. The fallout from this should be interesting. As for compelling, edge-of-the-seat storytelling, maybe it's because I'm looking at it from the viewpoint of the guy who wrote the bloody thing, eh? I've always found other people's works more exciting than my own. Anyway, thanks for the compliments.
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
I grudgingly clawed back to wakefulness. It wasn't by choice, really. I'd been having the most awful nightmare in which Duncan Matthews used me for a punching bag. My room was dark; the clock on the nightstand was the only illumination other than the occasional flash of lightning. A storm raged outside the mansion. It was well after midnight, but I wasn't sure of the day. A shuffling noise from the direction of the chair grabbed my attention.
"Ah, Mr. Maximoff," came Hank's voice in the darkness. "We have got to stop meeting like this."
Oh that's right. It hadn't been a nightmare. My nervous system finally came online and pain came flooding back to me. I would have cringed except that it hurt to move. I guess there was one good thing to come out of being paralyzed. If my legs had been hurt nearly as much as the rest of my body, at least I couldn't feel them complaining.
"Hi Hank," I croaked. Man, I sounded like I'd been through a garbage disposal. I flexed my hands. The pain in my arms wasn't too bad, so I started checking my various hurts, starting with the really nasty headache. I could feel stitches underneath my hair. Impressive. There were a couple abrasions on my neck from where my t-shirt had been ground into into the skin. I wasn't about to roll over to check out my back. The very thought of doing something that stupid made my muscles protest.
Hank switched on the lamp near the bed. I squinted in the sudden light, wondering what other parts of me had been damaged. He leaned in close and took my head between his hands.
"Open your eyes wider," he said. I didn't really have a choice. It was either do it or risk having him pry my eyes open. Since he had claws, I wasn't taking any chances. He grunted, apparently satisfied. "All right, how many fingers am I holding up?"
"Two."
He nodded and a tiny bit of concern bled away from his face. "Well, you don't seem to have a concussion," he said as he sat back down. "Mind telling me why I get to play doctor twice in four weeks?"
Actually, yes, I did mind. Very much in fact. Duncan Matthews had beaten me to a pulp because he'd somehow found out I was dating Kurt. Exactly how he'd managed to get that information was beyond me, but it didn't change the fact that he's a narrow-minded bigot. Some people just can't handle modern relationships, I guess. I wondered if Logan told any of the other adults in the house. I didn't think so, but I hadn't thought Duncan would use me for a piñata, either. Best to play this safe.
"I had a slight disagreement with one of the football players. No big deal." That's it, just shrug it off. Pretend for a minute that you don't have to bite back a whimper every time you move. Wishful thinking on my part. I yelped as pain shot up my back.
"No big deal," Hank said with a shake of his head. "You're lucky nothing was broken."
I smiled; it was an effort. "Lucky is my middle name." He just raised an eyebrow at my lame attempt at humor. "How long was I out this time?" I asked.
"About nine hours," he told me. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me about this 'slight disagreement?'" Why was he so persistent about this subject? It was a character flaw I'd noticed on all of Xavier's brats. Their concern about my well-being was overwhelming on the best of days. There were times I felt like screaming at them to leave me alone.
"It was just an argument that got out of hand, that's all." Take the hint, take the hint.
"Does this have anything to do with Kurt?" he asked. I blinked. Maybe they ran a news story about the two of us on channel four. I couldn't think of any other reason why every single person knew about us.
"What makes you think it has anything to do with," I choked back the phrase 'that little blue fuzzball' because there was a big blue fuzzball hanging on my words, "Kurt?" His eyes slid past me and a slightly amused expression came over his face. Apparently he wasn't going to answer me until I looked.
Kurt was curled up on the far side of the bed under a comforter, fast asleep. His hair had fallen into his face and fluttered in front of his mouth as he breathed. He looked almost peaceful as he slept. Almost, because he looked like he was having a bad dream. I knew there was no point in evading Hank's question or lying to the guy to get him to lay off.
"How long has he been here?" I asked quietly. It was a stretch, but I could just manage to brush Kurt's hair away from his face. Would you believe he actually nuzzled my hand like a cat?
I heard Hank stand up. A moment later, he walked around to the other side of the bed. He shifted the sleeping guy a little closer to my hand. My aching muscles thanked him profusely. Kurt twitched a couple times and I could see his tail jerking beneath the blanket.
"All afternoon," the big blue mutant said, shaking his head as he sat on the bed. "I had to give him a tranquilizer about four hours ago. He went hysterical as soon as Logan brought you home from the hospital."
I didn't know what to say to that.
"I guess you already know what the problem with Duncan was, then," I mumbled.
Hank nodded. "Yes. Lance informed the Professor, who explained the situation to the rest of the staff." He grinned suddenly. "Ororo was particularly irate at that hooligan's actions."
I glanced at the window. Rain was lashing against the glass, like it was trying to get in.
"This is irate? What happens when someone really pisses her off?"
"Ever heard of Hurricane Hugo?" I couldn't tell if Hank was joking or not, though I suspected he was quite serious.
The door opened and we both swung our heads in that direction. My hand froze on Kurt's hair, but it was Logan who entered the room. I resumed running my fingers through his hair. Since everyone knew, there was no point in hiding anything. He closed the door quietly and walked in. He glanced at Kurt but didn't say a word. That was a change. The guy was one of the most opinionated people I knew. Something in Logan's expression troubled me. He was grinning, for one. It didn't reach his eyes, either, and they glittered with an icy satisfaction.
"You idiot," he told me without preamble. The one nice thing about Logan was that he never, ever felt the need to sugar-coat anything.
"Nice to see you too. Why do you look like a cat with a really fat mouse in his claws?"
Logan snorted. Hank had a pained look on his face, as though I was juggling hand grenades. That probably wasn't too far off the mark, either. Sparring with Logan, even with words, was always a dangerous proposition.
"Charles just got off the phone with Murdock. That Matthews kid is history," Logan said to Hank. I looked at the blue guy, raising my eyebrows.
"Mr. Murdock is the lawyer on retainer for the Institute. Charming fellow, though how he manages to practice law while blind is beyond me," he explained. "He filed a grievance with the school board less than an hour after we got the call from the hospital." Oh. Yeah, that made sense. Detention seemed a little tame for a guy who beat up disabled people. Personally, I'd have pushed him in front of a bus, but it wasn't my decision either. Expulsion. Hmm. That had a nice ring to it, I guess. I think I could live with whatever the Xavier was doing.
"Good. I hope Superjock shrivels up and dies as a result," I said with a trace of my customary bitterness. Logan laughed out loud at that. Hank just shook his head. Maybe he was one of those people who believed in turning the other cheek. That would be ironic, given his mutation. There was a reason he was called Beast, you know.
The big guy rose from the bed. The mattress rose with an audible squeal. I guess the box spring wasn't designed for a five-hundred pound person. My own hundred-pounds-and-change didn't count in that equation. Hank yawned widely.
"Logan has the next shift. Have a good night, Pietro."
"G'night."
He shuffled off to his own room and bed, leaving me alone with Logan and Kurt. My furry little friend - no, boyfriend - didn't move as the door clicked shut. Neither did Logan, come to that. He just leaned against the, what was the word, armoire watching me with his arms crossed. I stared right back at him, stroking Kurt's hair. The rain spattering against the window was the only sound in the room. The silence grew quite thick and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
"What are you looking at?" I asked. My voice tried to crack as I said it, but I managed to squelch that before it happened. Whoever decided that puberty and high school should happen simultaneously was a real sadistic person.
Logan shrugged. "Nothin', kiddo." He jerked his chin at Kurt. "I don't need to tell you to be careful, do I?"
I headed that conversation off before it could get started.
"Thanks, but I already had The Talk."
Logan nodded and dropped into the chair Hank had vacated. He pushed his hair out of his face and ran a hand over his stubble.
"You get any more crap about this, you come running to me, alright?" I raised an eyebrow and shot him an amused look. His eyes swept over the lump of blankets covering my legs. "You know what I mean."
I sighed, feeling suddenly drained. "Yeah, I know. I wasn't expecting Duncan to flip out, ok? It just sort of happened. It's not a big deal," I said. Yes, I was repeating myself. That's how tired I was. Not too tired to run my mouth off, though. "It's not like you guys really give a damn, so can you please drop the fake concern?"
Logan growled at me. That's the only way to describe it. It sounded like a two-hundred pound pit bull was in my room and looking at me like I'd just stepped on its toe. It occurred to me that snapping at a guy who was programmed to be the perfect assassin was probably not the best way to extend my life expectancy.
"We don't give a damn?" he snarled in a low voice. I turned to look at him slowly, the way you'd act around a rabid animal. He started ticking off on his fingers in short, jerky motions. I could tell I'd managed to get under his skin. Great. "Scott blames himself for not being around to protect you. Sean hadda talk him outta going after that Matthews bastard when he heard the news. Lance actually hadda be restrained from breaking the guy's one good arm. Bobby locked himself in his room all during supper. Said the whole incident made him too sick to eat. Jean spent all afternoon usin' words I ain't heard since I was in the Navy. I can think of four of you kids who've been strung out and in tears since school let out. All because we don't give a damn." All right, he had a point. I held up my hand to say so, but he ignored me.
Logan jerked his thumb at the window. "Ororo," he bore in relentlessly, "hasn't been able to control her temper or her powers since she heard. There's a severe thunderstorm warning from Atlantic City up to Canada because she 'doesn't give a damn' about you." He pointed at Kurt. "And I don't think I gotta say a word about him." As if on cue, Kurt's tail snaked out from under the comforter and curled around my waist in a kind of bizarre hug. I looked down at the fuzzy blue appendage, at a loss for words. Astonishing, I know. Don't tell anyone.
My heart sank with each sentence. By the time he finished, I felt like a complete loser. I hadn't realized I had that many friends around this place. I blinked watery eyes and swallowed hard. He'd certainly given me something to think about.
"That said," Logan went on in a more conversational tone, "yer excused from classes tomorrow, but since yer doing so well you get to go back on Friday. No arguing, bub." I raised my hand in surrender. Arguing with the man was an exercise in futility. Not to mention dangerous. He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head, settling down for the night. "Lemme know if you need anything," he added as he stretched out his legs.
A few minutes later he started to snore. His nose was slightly crooked, having been broken one or more times in the past. It made his snoring sound like a Mack truck shifting gears. I lay there for a long time, one arm around Kurt, the other playing with the edge of the sheet. After a while, I shut the light off. It didn't make anything less complicated. I don't know how long I listened to the rain on my window and Wolverine's rumbling, but it made me drowsy enough to doze for a while.
Pietro, my mother said, it's time to get up. I burrowed my head underneath the pillow. If I didn't have to go to school today then I didn't have to get out of bed, right? Fair's fair, after all.
"Go 'way. I don't wanna get up," I slurred, doing my best to go back to sleep.
If you don't wake up soon, I'm going to make it rain in here until you do, she answered. My mother could be so strict some...wait a moment. Rain? I blinked all the way awake and peered around the room. Logan and Kurt were gone, though the abundance of cobalt blue hair on the top of the coverlet indicated that I hadn't dreamed the events of that morning. Instead, Ms. Munroe was sitting on the edge of the bed next to me.
"Good morning," she said.
I checked the clock. Yes, it was morning. Too early for my taste, but oh well.
"Morning," I replied with a yawn. The movement made my body ache and the yawn hitched halfway through as I fought down a yelp. I saw that she'd brought a tray of food up to my room. How thoughtful. "I don't suppose there's any aspirin on that is there?" I asked, pointing to the breakfast tray.
"No," she said, "but if you need any, I'll be happy to get some for you."
I thought that over. Painkillers sounded great, but breakfast trumped even that desire.
"I'll let you know after I eat," I said. Getting vertical was an exercise in pain suppression, but I managed not to cry out or curse, so it was all good. It wasn't any less difficult with assistance, but I have to admit that I felt less pained after I'd been propped up against the headboard and a couple pillows.
Someone had pulled out all the stops for this meal, I saw as she removed the cover from the tray. The sheer variety of food was impressive. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, cereal, yogurt, you name it - it was there. My stomach tried to figure out how to escape and get to the tray on its own. I picked up a slice of bacon and nibbled on it, willing my gut to behave. Mm. Crunchy.
"Thanks," I told her. "I'm really hungry for some reason."
The bed moved as she plucked an apple off the tray. For a fleeting instant I considered taking it back, but there was plenty to go around. That should give an idea of just how much food she'd piled in front of me as well as how hungry I was. One less apple wouldn't hurt. She crunched into it, chewed, swallowed.
"Lance said you hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday," she said. Good point. "I thought you'd appreciate a full meal." I'd spent several years with foster parents in the row house next door to the Daniels family. Ms. Munroe had visited her sister's family every weekend and had always made a huge breakfast on Saturday mornings. Before Evan and I had our falling- out, I'd been over to his house more often than not and had come to like his aunt's cooking. Her scrambled eggs, I'd learned, were legendary all over the neighborhood. The woman loved to cook and it showed.
I inspected the eggs in question, which confirmed my thoughts.
"Thanks for making this," I said around a mouthful of bacon.
She smiled at me and it was like looking at a memory. "You always enjoyed my cooking. Why should now be any different?" I toasted her with a glass of orange juice. She had a point.
"It's delicious. Thanks," I said again. Believe it or not, I wasn't lying for a change. "I take it you're to be my keeper for the day?" I asked, changing the subject.
She nodded. "It's been a very long time since I've spent any time with you. We used to have a lot of fun, remember?" That was true. Several summers ago she had helped my foster parents rearrange their garden. We - Ms. Munroe, Evan and myself - had spent the entire summer digging and planting. For breaks, we'd all take the subway into the city or wander around Brooklyn. Contrary to popular belief, it's not necessarily a dangerous place. Tough, maybe, but hardly dangerous. My guardians liked the fact that I was spending so much time outdoors. I was a bit of a wallflower in those days, now that I recall. That had been the summer before my speed had started to manifest.
"That was a long time ago, Ms. Munroe," I said, uncomfortable for some reason.
"True. You were very different back then," she sighed. Her phrasing bugged me until I realized that she'd already been an X-Man at that point. Small world, eh? "And please, call me Ororo. Everybody else does."
I brightened. "Sure, Ororo." It sounded odd to hear her name off my own lips. "So what's the day look like? Anything interesting planned?"
She took another bite of her apple. "I thought I'd show you my garden, if you'd like. Other than that, I have nothing in mind."
I was quickly beginning to appreciate how sedate life in this house could be. The boarding house had always been a study in chaos. Xavier's Institute was as far from that as you could get. I always had the urge to speak in a quiet voice whenever I was around the house, because it reminded me of a museum. Or an asylum. Depended on my mood. It was all starting to grow on me, though.
"Sounds great," I said. Her smile was infectious and I couldn't help but smile back. Yeah, these people were definitely starting to grow on me.
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To Be Continued.
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To My Reviewers:
Sailor X1: I promise. :) Let me know how fun it is. As for cockiness, I can never have too much. Frankly, I've learned a lot of nasty nicknames as a triple threat to the local population. (I happen to be a gay, atheistic Yankee in the Deep South. Go figure.) It never fails to amaze me how degenerate our ultracivilized society can be at times. Anyway, the Jean/Pietro animosity comes naturally. It IS an annoying nickname, and the fact that she uses his brain as a library is probably irritating in the extreme. Have to admit that it's fun to write. I'm sure the three-way date will prove amusing as it will feature the aforementioned spat between Amanda and Kurt. A better question is 'Will Kurt ever find out about Rahne?' I think Pietro is going to try to keep that under wraps for some reason. We'll find out why Wanda is staying away from her brother soon. Kurt didn't tell anyone; there is another leak yet to be revealed. Pietro merely jumped to conclusions. Give him a little credit. He was having the stuffing beaten out of him at the time. Lance's thoughts on the situation will come out, no pun intended, soon enough. Yeesh, this response was slightly lengthy. I'll get back to writing now. :) Keep responding. I have almost as much fun 'talking' with my reviewers as I do writing chapters for them to read.
Storm-Pietro: Nice to hear you're still enjoying this. :D
Moda: Ah, I swoon in your adoration. I'm generally not too worried about getting anyone down perfectly, but it's nice to hear I'm managing anyway. Duncan is indeed a jerk-off. I generally update a couple times a week. Expect more soon. Mindless dribble doesn't bother me. If you've found something on which to comment, then by all means do so. I read all reviews and take comments into consideration. It generally doesn't change my mind, but I do consider them anyway. ;)
Ultramatt17: Less of a mean streak than a twisted sense of humour, then. I know that if I were the world's most powerful telepath I'd probably do the same thing. Yes, it was an intense chapter. It didn't turn out at all like I envisioned when I wrote it, either. Chapters eleven and twelve were meant to be filler until I got around to the whole Friday-date storyline, but Duncan showed up and started raising hell. Odd how characters can get away with that sometimes. The fallout from this should be interesting. As for compelling, edge-of-the-seat storytelling, maybe it's because I'm looking at it from the viewpoint of the guy who wrote the bloody thing, eh? I've always found other people's works more exciting than my own. Anyway, thanks for the compliments.