Hi Everyone! This is my first X-fic, and I suppose you MIGHT call it a
sequel to the second movie, except.it isn't. I think it's pretty good, but
I'm not you, so ignore my comments, ok? Just read it and see how it is,
then review PLEASE (if you do, I promise to review one of YOUR stories.
Deal?).
And yes, I do know the entire Jean Gray=Phoenix thing, but I just didn't
have any way to add her to the story. Maybe later, ok? (
If you do review, I gladly accept any suggestions on improvement or ideas
for this fic, just say it nicely, or I will publicly ridicule you and dish
out your most profound secrets. *smiles sweetly*
Anyway, enough of me. Read on.
Disclaimer: In no way, in Heaven or on earth, do I own anything related to this story except for Twilight and perhaps a few others, and I have ZIP money to just blow on lawyers and stuff, so it's not worth suing me for anyway. *wicked grin*
Prelude-
New York City is a very overwhelming place at night. True, certain parts of it are awe-inspiring, making you stop every few steps to stand and gape at some magnificent wonder or another, and forcing upon you the slightest inkling of a thought: you're free. And there are, of course, the parts of it that say to you, "Come. Rest. You are safe here." The places where you simply want to sit down and sip at bitter-sweet cappuccinos, the places where you can simply collapse onto a bench and listen to the crickets sing over the roar of traffic behind you.
But then, there are the not-so-good places. Those places that seem always in shadow, hiding bums, drunks, and druggies who watch you from the darkness and maybe snicker.or follow you.
There are those places that are completely deserted, empty of everything except the moaning wind and melting blackness, where anyone-or anything- could leap at you and devour you.
Then there are those places that are a combination of both: A place that is darker than night, colder than ice, and so filled with evil that you can taste it like smoke on the air. They are places so stark, and yet so filled with malevolence, that once you step into it, it seems impossible to get away.
This is where a six-year-old girl known as Twilight thrived, streaking ghost-like through the alleys, dodging any malevolent people, and hiding behind dumpsters. Twilight had no home. She had no mother or father. No brothers or sisters. No pets or school. She was completely alone.
She slept at the closest available spot whenever she felt too exhausted to go on, she ate from dumpsters whenever she collapsed from starvation, and she somehow managed to steal children's clothes form clotheslines every few weeks. She only came out after sunset, when the sky above was tinged the almost transparent blue that signaled the coming of night. She had never even had a name until a few hoboes started calling her that, on the account that they only saw her appear at night.
It may seem impossible, being it is that she was so young, but she could take care of herself far better than one might appreciate. Twilight was exceedingly bright for her age, with so many thoughts floating through her head that even the most advanced telekinetic would feel overwhelmed. She was brave and resolute, and yet completely silent.though that was not her fault. Twilight was a mutant, a highly superb being with amazing powers, and that was probably the largest contribution to her daily survival.
Aside form enabling her to have a highly intellectual mind, her powers rendered her nearly impossible to harm, and also nearly impossible to catch. Though no one seemed to notice, Twilight could creep through the very smallest of spaces, squirming her way between tight walls to escape an angry washer-woman, or crawling under a dumpster to avoid the butcher she'd just stolen from.
Although Twilight could also do many more wondrous things, the most important was this: She held the lives of every living being on her shoulders. Twilight had, woven throughout her DNA, the genes of both mutants and humans. Every single existing thing was somehow tied to her, and if she was to ever die, everyone and anyone would pass on with her.
Twilight had known this for years, and had been running from city to city for as long as she could remember, simply to avoid being caught by those who wished to harm her. She was somewhat well-known in New York City, simply because no one had ever seen her up close, and no one had heard a single word out of her. Twilight had learned to speak like any other child, but she chose to keep her lips sealed, preferring silence to noise. Of course, speech was not something she needed, as she was a telepath and could both hear thought and speak to others through her mind. Oftentimes, she would walk down streets, listening as people thought, "What is a mere child doing here? Where are her parents?"
Twilight's infanthood was never known. No one has ever known where she came from, or how she survived for so long. Many assume that her mother passed away in childbirth, and Twilight was cared for by different people until she grew old enough to live on her own.
Still others argue that she was a ghost, traveling everywhere she had been in life, wishing for a second chance. Only Twilight knew the truth, and her story was far more unbelievable than anyone's guess. However, she never told anyone, not even her most trusted friends, of her past. She said that it was too painful-too frightening-too repeat.
And it's no wonder.
Day after day, she stayed in the shadows, oftentimes having to struggle free from some psychopath's grip, or even being awoken in the night by the sounds of screams and gunshots.
Wherever she went, she felt the presence of someone wishing her harm. She never felt safe or secure or loved, and she envied other children so much it made her heart burn.
She wanted, more than anything, a home like any other, with a mom and dad, maybe a brother or sister, a warm bed, real food, clothes, and love. She wanted to be able to go to school and do chores and fight with her siblings and get grounded to her room.
She wanted to make cookies and watch TV and play tag and just be a normal kid.one who didn't have to worry about being killed as much as she did. Twilight knew how important she was to humanity.
She also knew of the growing tension between mutants and humans. In her dreams, she had seen and heard people speaking of her, wistfully speaking of how she could be used to rid the world of mutants.or humans.
Those dreams always caused her to wake in the darkest hours of night, after she collapsed from exhaustion, screaming and sweating while her heart trilled against her ribs; everyone had a use for her, and all purposes ended in her death.
Most of the beings didn't frighten her very badly, though; there was only one group that made cold sweat break on her forehead and made her breath come in gasps: The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, led by mutants named Magneto and Mystique. Magneto, also named Eric Lensherr, was a powerful mutant with the ability to control magnetic fields and twist the hardest metal as though it was taffy. His dream was of complete human annihilation, and of mutant superiority. As a child, Eric had been taken to several Holocaust camps, and tortured endlessly. The last straw had been when he had been forced to watch his mother and father be dragged away to their death; after that, he hated all humans.
Mystique, or Raven Darkholme, was a terribly wicked female mutant with the power to change into any mutant, human, or semi-human she wanted, though she never could obtain other mutants' powers. Raven despised humans as much as Eric if not more, though no one had ever found out why.
Twilight stayed awake at night, dreading the nightmares she would have, knowing that they were warnings-foretelling--of things to come. She had never met any mutant that wished to harm her, and she had never actually spoken to Mystique or Magneto, but she knew they lived nearby, that they were looking for her and waiting for just the right moment to take her. She knew that they even walked down the same streets she did, never even noticing when she brushed past their legs to get to the library or some other safe place. She saw on the front page pictures of fires and murders, all pointing to them. She felt completely helpless as she walked down the streets, never sure who she might bump into around the next corner, never certain who might grab her and carry her off. Her chest was filled constantly with fear and wariness, and her small face was solemn with worry and exhaustion, so that she appeared to be much older than she really was. One would think that such a little girl wouldn't be able to take such a lifestyle: Running constantly, hardly sleeping or eating, practically daring death to come for her. But she had.
How? Life. Life was the one thing that kept her going. She had not only her own life to worry about, but everyone's. And that was the reason for her tenacious endurance. That was the way it was for her, day in and day out, for as long as she knew, and she always expected it to stay that way until her dying day. It changed, however, sooner than she expected.
On one particular night, after awakening from a vivid nightmare, Twilight curled herself up against the harsh wind biting through a flimsy blanket she had stolen. The rain was beating down on the ground mercilessly, as if it fully-well intended to break through the asphalt and cause a fissure to split across the entire city. However, the cold was not the only thing that had jerked her ruthlessly from sleep. As she stood up and turned, her breath was suddenly swiped form her lungs at a tremendous sight: the sky, once so velvety black and peaceful, was alight with flames and choking in smoke. Twilight never even thought of the consequences as she, still clutching the blanket to her, raced barefoot out of the alley, to the street nearby.
The always busy street of Harlem Boulevard was in absolute disarray. Large chunks of asphalt were missing form the streets, and smoke poured into the black sky like a huge, writhing snake. Once majestic buildings were drowning in flames or tumbling to the ground, every brick crumbling to dust before everyone's eyes.
Everywhere nearby was lost in total disorder, the normally stunning beauty of the place gone; the gold of the serene lamplights, the silver of the full moon, the blue of the river, all melted away and replaced by a menacing, endless black. Shrieks of terror and confusion flooded into the night, joined by the wails of sirens and the constant explosions of gunfire. By the time Twilight reached the street, police had surrounded a large group of people and were loudly pleading for them to give in. The people seemed completely calm, a ripple of peace in an ocean of panic. They, all of them, were smiling slightly.especially one woman in particular, who appeared to be the leader. She was very stunning, a woman who obviously walked down the street and drew the eyes of everyone who saw her. She was tall and slender, with wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her stance was one of power, one hand resting against her hip and the other holding a revolver to a young boy's head, while the slightest of smiles was curved upon her scarlet lips.
Her prisoner was maybe sixteen or seventeen, his body rigid with fear as his dark eyes stared down the barrel of the gun. He was breathing heavily, too panicked to cry or scream or faint. His pale face was glinting with sweat; slowly, his lips moved in an obvious plea for mercy. He was on his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides, entire form shaking with tremors. Behind the woman, several others were assembled, all obviously mutants. One was another man with green-tinted skin and hair and glowing yellow eyes, his face a mask of both idiocy and evilness. He was holding an older male across his shoulder, a rather dazed grin on his features as he ambled forward a bit, whispering in the woman's ear.
On the other side of the lady, with his arms crossed and pointed teeth bared, was a beast of utmost height and strength, with crazy, tangled blonde hair and black claws protruding form his paw-like hands. Currently, he clasped two women with his claws, laughing as they screamed in terror, looking ready to pass out.
".for you see, dear people, we mutants cannot stand for this any longer! Therefore, we have decided to teach you all a lesson.one you will not soon forget!" That voice cut into Twilight's soul like a burning knife. Slowly, she turned, breathing heavily as her eyes caught sight of the owner of the voice: Magneto.
She knew in an instant who they were: They were the Brotherhood. A sudden bolt of terror shot through Twilight's body, and she desperately considered running for her life. And then she saw the horrified eyes of the captives, and, taking a big breath, she rooted herself to the spot; now was not the time to move.not yet. Eric Lensherr was a handsome man, mid-sixties by appearance, young twenties by energy and wit. He was tall and powerfully built, his uniform stretched across his muscular body. His face was unsentimental and harsh, sporting a smile that chilled the very soul. His eyes were an icy stone gray, like his hair which was currently hidden under a helmet. Behind him was a teenage mutant, a boy that seemed a little out of place among the throng of full- grown mutants.
He was perhaps seventeen years old, with red-blonde hair, blindingly green eyes, and a very prominent smirk plastered on his pale face. In his right hand he held a lighter, which he flicked open and closed constantly: click, thack, click, thack. Suddenly, a flame appeared over the lighter, and the boy waved it over to him; he held the flame. She knew that he could do that already, though. His name was Pyro, and he was able to control fire of any sort, shape, or size. In reality, young as he was, he could make a very worthy opponent.
The people around her were screaming and running, always pushing at each other and fighting in their desperate plight to get away. Twilight, in her very quiet and shy way, somehow weaved her way through screaming people and trampling crowds to the very front, so that the nearest policeman was an arm's breadth away.
She still held the blanket around her neck, only her small head peeping out from the mass of soiled cloth. Someone nearby noticed her and started to tell the officer, but he was cut off as another explosion rattled the streets; the screams were deafening. Rocked by the sudden stampede of people, Twilight stumbled forward, crashing into the policeman and causing him to fall over into his partner, who tripped and set his gun off. That only caused more pandemonium, and people started grabbing officer's guns, shouting that if the police wouldn't kill the 'bad guys', they would. Twilight turned her gaze to the mutants, and saw, to her horror, a miraculous change occur.
The lady lazily resting the gun against the boy's head was beginning to change, slowly but surely. Tanned skin slowly melted into turquoise blue, dripping down from the long, angular face to the slender middle to the shapely thighs and onward, and clothes suddenly shrank to sink into the attractive form and in some places became scale-like flesh. Curly blonde hair seemed to burst into dark red flames, writhing until they became a straight, silken mane of deep crimson. Hazel eyes froze suddenly, leaking out and replaced by bright yellow that scintillated with hatred and wickedness as she smiled; her teeth were shocking white against her dark flesh.
The boy shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes for a second, opening them again slowly, as if he thought she might disappear if he did. The people became even more terrified at Mystique's true appearance, and they were mindless with horror.
Mystique, however, seemed unfazed by the outburst. She merely watched with disinterest as a group of people dragged a taxi driver from his car and tossed him out before piling in and only then realizing that they didn't have keys to start the vehicle. Then her eyes swept over the group, stopping occasionally to watch another amusing scene, and finally resting on Twilight. She seemed a little taken aback at first, surprised as anyone at seeing such a young child in such a scene as that, and then she regained her composure. Twilight was watching her, more curious than scared for the moment. She had never truly seen Mystique's real form before, and she wanted to take a second just to study her. Mystique's lips melted into a slight smile; she winked at her and turned away, at last tossing the teenage boy into the crowd, to the obvious relief of the officers. Magneto turned and smiled at her, and she stated something before turning to point at Twilight; the child took a tentative step back, body ready to run if the need came. Magneto looked up and his eyes met hers. He raised his eyebrows and gave her the slightest of smiles before he looked at the crowd assembled before him, "People of New York, you have been foolish to try to stop us! Mutants are the future of this nation, and there is nothing you can do to stop us. In the end, we will destroy you completely and mercilessly, and you will all be sorry for turning against us."
Stepping back uncertainly, Twilight let the blanket fall from her shoulders and turned to the nearest officer, only then starting to feel afraid. Then, before she could stop it, her mind began to fog up, pain snaking through her brain, causing her to wince in agony. Her mind weaved its way through the people, past officers and women, past frightened men and crazy-looking elders until it crashed directly into Mystique, not even listening to Twilight's constant pleas.
Sensing the girl's antics, the lady whipped around to face her again, and this time her smile was not pleasant at all. Twilight covered her ears as the voices started and the visions swam into view, but nothing could stop her mind. In an instant she knew everything there was to know about Mystique. She was Raven Darkholme, the leader of the Brotherhood, and the one person who could indefinitely destroy Twilight. The darkness of her heart was more than a mere child could interpret. It was endless and black, wilting into infinite malevolence, marred with pain and hatred that seemed to double with every passing day. It was like a dark forest; a black sea; a shadowy alley. No light could ever split the waves of black that had long-ago swallowed her soul and had sucked her into a life of endless hate and murder. To a six-year-old, she was simply 'scary'. Someone to avoid at all costs; a monster who hid in your closet and slithered out after everyone but you had fallen asleep; a thing too frightening to speak of; the person that haunted your every nightmare. Mystique knew she was all of these things to most people.and she was filled with undeniable pride because of it.
A scream welled up Twilight's throat, choking her, making her suffocate on fear. Instantly her mind was filled with those dark, wicked thoughts of Mystique, thoughts so inhumanly cruel that it made Twilight's flesh crawl. Those ideas housed in her mind, those horrible plans for world domination, hit Twilight fully, causing her to double over, mouthing the words, "No.no." A darkness like none she had ever experienced began to seep through her veins, crackling and spitting flames of malevolence through her heart. Twilight shook her head, trying desperately to clear her mind, to get Mystique out of her brain, but she couldn't. She saw all of Mystique's hatred, her bitterness, her strength, her memories.her very dark, twisted soul that crawled and throbbed with relish of death. Twilight let out a tiny whimper and collapsed on the spot.
When she awoke, Twilight was on the side of the road, the rain slowly dying off, merely trickling and drizzling on her face. She sat up dizzily, for a moment forgetting where she was and what had happened, but soon regaining her memory and immediately jerking around, looking for Mystique. The street was mostly empty now, the fires put out and smoldering remains now littering the landscape.
The Brotherhood was gone, as were most of the policemen, and the sky showed the slightest tinge of pink; it was dawn. Twilight groaned and looked around, her eyes soon falling upon a man walking towards her. She backed up a little as he saw she was awake and hurried forward.
"Hey," he said gruffly, "You ok?"
She was still for a moment, and then she nodded slowly.
He stooped down to her level, "Where's your parents, Kid?"
She stared at him, wishing so much that she wouldn't have to talk, not wanting to let him know she was.a mutant.
His face hardened, "You're not an orphan, are ya?"
He had obviously meant it as a joke, but Twilight nodded anyway.
His face fell slightly, and he looked a little embarrassed, "Oh."
He was silent as his eyes switched over to the desolate scene before them. At long last, he looked back at her, "You livin in a home of some kind?"
She shrugged.
"You alone?" She nodded.
"How old are you?" After a second, she reluctantly held up six fingers.
He raised his eyebrows, "Dang. How long you been alone?"
She shrugged again.
"Know how to talk?"
She nodded slightly.
"Great."
He looked off into the distance again, and then muttered, "The Brotherhood again.came this close." He clenched his fist and shook his head, "..this close to just snappin' and killin' 'em all. Course, Charley wouldn't allow it., 'Too dangerous' he said. 'We're not here to kill. We're here to help.'." He glanced at Twilight, "That's all he dares about. Saving people. The way I see it, we'd be savin a lot o' lives if we just murdered the lot of 'em."
Twilight nodded silently in agreement.
"Course, now it's too late. They escaped. Even Charley dunno where they went. If God's good, they've been sucked down into Hell and are burning for their sins." He shook his head again and smirked, "Even that wouldn't be enough for me, though."
Suddenly, he seemed to realize that he was talking to a young child, and his head snapped up, "Oh.yea., Right. Just a kid. You'll have to ignore me, Kiddo. I go nuts sometimes." Twilight smiled slightly; she liked this guy already. The man grinned, "Listen, Kid. I'll go get ol' Charley boy and get him to sort this whole thing with you out. Maybe he can find you someplace to stay, right?"
Twilight nodded in agreement and softly whispered, "Ok."
"Ok. I'll be right back. Don't move."
Then he disappeared through the group of people again.
Twilight sighed and closed her eyes, concentrating hard on the man.letting her mind drift, as it oftentimes did. The man was named Logan, but he was also called Wolverine. Logan was the perfect example of any gangster motorcyclist seen on the street, although he was much, much more than just that. He normally wore faded blue jeans torn in several places, a worn muscle shirt, and a leather jacket that was fraying at the seams. His hair was longer than most of the men at the place, dark brown and wild, with sideburns at the side of his chiseled-stone face. Whiskers dappled his hard chin and crawled lazily up his strong jaw and above his smirking mouth, seemingly frozen in place by his ice-cold, dark eyes. However, although he was very rough, and oftentimes flat-out mean, Twilight knew him to be more than a rough-and-tumble fighter. He could also be, surprisingly, very selfless and somewhat funny, in his own twisted way. Many times he had risked his life to save others, and fought for those he could care less about. In reality, he had died for others. The only reason he still stood strong today was the fact that he had a very strong healing factor; he was almost invincible. Besides that, his bones were made of only the strongest metal, adamantium, which was laced throughout his body and was impossible to even dent. However, as impressive as his defensive powers were, his offensive was considerably more stunning, and frightening. Between his well-worn knuckles, where his skin was rough as sandpaper, almost invisible star-shaped scars exploded, where long, deadly blades-yes, blades-erupted. Of course, he could control his knives very well; they only came out when he sensed danger, or when he was especially angry. Now, however, he was in a perfectly companionable mood, so his blades stayed beneath his skin, where they were most liked.
Twilight knew all of that information about Logan in seconds. Immediately, her heart lifted slightly; he was a mutant, like her. She started to slide off of the bed she was on, preparing to run off down the nearest alley (she knew she still couldn't trust Wolverine or his 'Charley' friend), but just then, she saw Logan swimming through the crowd once more, and behind him was a older man in a wheelchair, who smiled warmly at her the second he saw her.
Once the two men reached her, the wheelchair man took her hands in his and said, "I am Charles Xavier, and I'm not going to hurt you, Twilight."
Immediately Twilight's heart and mind told her the same thing: Charles Xavier was truly not going to hurt her.and he knew who and what she was. She hesitated, looking down the alley, and then faced him again; if he seemed dangerous, she would run.
Xavier was a tall and majestic man, late forties, the type of man that most everyone would want for a grandfather. He was kind and wise; sometimes quiet, but most oftentimes teaching his students in his rich, English- accent. He was clean-shaven and pale, with a round face noted by dark brown eyes and a shaven head.
Xavier sensed the worry she felt and smiled, "You are safe with me, Twilight."
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters; that was the name of the school. It was a large, beautiful brick building that stretched along a regal estate for several miles, guarded by a cast-iron fence and decorated with waves of luscious green grass and sprouting flowers. Of course, at the moment, the grounds were covered in thick, fresh snow, so that everything outside was nothing but stark white. It was bitingly cold outside, with curtains of snow pummeling the ground and a sharp wind crashing against the school's clear window's, but inside it was safe and warm. Nothing in particular seemed different about the school; on the contrary, it was as normal-looking a school as any college might appear. It seemed to be a very pleasant, very fancy school for extremely intelligent children. Which, it was...in a way. In reality, the 'gifted youngsters' of the school were mutants, or beings with highly intellectual powers, such as controlling fire, running through walls, or growing to twice any kid's normal size. That was what the school was for. It was a basic training ground for younger mutants, a place where kids could see others like themselves and learn to form their powers into something controllable and good. Everyone there were mutants, from the teachers to the gardener, and it was there that any mutants, hated by the world and oftentimes murdered by fearful humans, could feel safe and wanted.
Inside the school, a certain woman was leaning her forehead against the cool glass of her window as she sat on a bench, looking out at the snow that pounded down on the grounds nearby. This woman, named Ororo Munroe but known as Storm to most, was ethereally beautiful. Tall and somewhat imposing, her form seemed completely flawless, as if only the most expertise workers had carved it from marble. Under her uniform (which was known as 'tight' 'cool' and 'awesome' to the kids in the school) was a well-shaped body, with curves where they were needed, muscles that weren't very apparent but still noticeable, and melted chocolate skin, flawless like the rest of her appearance. Her face, that of only the most wise and resolute of women, was framed by a long, flowing waterfall of shock-white hair that fell down past her shoulders almost to the middle of her back. Her jaw-line was hard and stubborn, showing that she was not easily frightened, but her almond eyes took any 'scariness' away from her and replaced it with kindness. Indeed, every child there who knew Storm loved her, knowing they could come to her for comfort for anything from a low grade to a breakup with a 'true love'. Indeed, Storm's heart was just as beautiful as her outward appearance, and to some of the people in the school, she was 'The Most Beautiful Woman in the World'. However, to Storm herself, she was just as naturally pretty as any of the other women and girls here. As Storm sat on her window seat and leaned her forehead against the window, completely immersed in her thoughts, her dear friend Kurt Wagner, (Known better as Nightcrawler) came into the room. He spotted Storm and immediately sensed that something was wrong, although it wasn't hard to figure out; Storm's eyes were slowly beginning to melt into as otherworldly a white as her hair, and the storm outside began to grow gradually worse. Storm, true to her name, could control weather and provoke the most terrifying storms known to mankind. Now, of course, she wasn't meaning to do so, but that changed nothing as hail the size of a man's fist began to beat on the roof. Nightcrawler rushed to his friend's side and calmly touched her shoulder; Storm flinched, then turned and smiled, her eyes going quickly back to normal and the blizzard outside diminishing, "Hey."
Nightcrawler smiled, "Hello. How are you?"
"Fine."
Nightcrawler shook his head and sat down next to Storm, "I do not think so," he stated in his rich German accent, "Tell me what is troubling you."
That was simply Nightcrawler's way; talk to me; I'll help you. Kurt was not exactly what you would call handsome. In fact, he looked more like a blue devil, or perhaps a stone gargoyle, than anything. His skin was the color of a midnight sky, which was quite a contrast to his electric yellow eyes, but a perfect match for his slick, dark hair. On his tall, wiry form were several beautiful markings sent from the angel Gabriel; there was one for every sin engraved upon his skin. Kurt was a devoted Catholic and a strong believer in God. For several months now, hew had been urging others to 'have faith' and to 'trust in God'; though it didn't work for some people, Kurt never gave up. Kurt was a teleporter, able to transport himself from one place to another with a single Pht! of foul-smelling purple smoke. It was really a very useful power, but Kurt considered his sweet personality and caring spirit to be his strongest traits. Now, Kurt gave a sharp-toothed smile, "Go on. I am listening." Storm hesitated, looking back out at the snow that still drifted down. The grounds were covered in a soft white blanket, as yet not trampled by the dozens of students in the school. Storm loved the sight of smooth, clean snow. It represented purity, something that had yet to be marked, something ready and waiting to receive anything that came to it.
Storm looked back at Kurt, frowning slightly, "I've just...had a hard day. I'll be better in the morning."
Kurt, however, knew better than to believe that. Though he had been acquainted with Ororo for a very limited time, he knew that she could hide her feelings behind storm clouds as easily as she could the sun. Kurt sat down next to Storm and placed a hand on her shoulder, "No, it's not just that, I can tell. What is it?"
Storm gazed out the window, and Kurt saw tears glistening in her deep brown eyes. He turned her chin towards him with his two-fingered hand, brow creased with worry. Storm took in a deep breath, and then exhaled while whispering, "I...I was just thinking about...about Jean."
Kurt's heart gave an almighty jerk; Jean had been Storm's best friend for a very long time, until...a few months past, when she had died saving everyone's lives. The adventure was strong in Kurt's mind, and though he hated to think of it, he saw everything unfold anyway: It had started with Kurt's kidnapping. He had been captured and taken to William Stryker, a wicked man and true hater of mutants of all kinds. Kurt had then been brainwashed and forced to attempt murder on the President, which of course caused a riot in the world and caused all living people to hate mutants even more. Kurt had eventually come to himself and taken refuge in an old abandoned church, where he was found by Storm and Jean and taken with them to be questioned by Xavier, the founder of the school. On the way, they had found that there was no way to communicate with any of the other mutants, and discovered that the school had been sabotaged by Stryker and that several of the students had been taken captive. It was then that the three 'groups' of beings came face-to-face: There was Magneto, Mystique, and their followers, who wanted nothing but mutant superiority and death of humans; William Stryker and those like him who wanted to destroy all mutants; and the X-men, who cared for both sides, and attempted to make peace between mutants and humans. Kurt had been with the X-men, although they had all grouped up with Magneto to save Xavier from Stryker and prevent the death of all mutants young and old. They did succeed, although Magneto and Mystique escaped and took one of the students (a boy named John, or Pyro) with them. Unfortunately, in the process of escape, the dam that held Stryker's base began to crack, and then an entire part of Alkali Lake (which had overflowed from years of abandonment) began to rush out. The X-men had gotten into their escape jet, but had discovered it unable to fly, so Jean had gone out and levitated it using her telekinesis, and then gave it power to run. Unable to get back to safety, she was swept away with the water...never to be seen again. Kurt let the tears come. Though he hadn't known Jean for very long, he could feel Storm's endless, ripping pain, and he wished more than anything to help her. "I am very sorry," he whispered.
Storm gave him a tearful smile, "It's alright, Kurt. No one could have done anything. She was...too strong...and too stubborn." Storm bit her lip and looked off at the snow again, blinking hurriedly to disperse her tears.
Kurt brushed away a stray tear from her cheek, "It is ok to cry, Friend."
Storm nodded, "I know. I know it's ok...but...I just...I can't..." She broke off then and swallowed hard, wiping her eyes with her graceful hands and inhaling sharply.
Kurt patted her shoulder sweetly, "She was a wonderful woman. I know that she is in Heaven with Our Father as we speak. Perhaps she is looking down and smiling upon us?"
Storm gave Nightcrawler the best smile she could muster, "Thank you, Kurt. You've helped me alot."
Kurt grinned, happy to have been some help, "It was nothing, My Friend."
They were silent for a moment, Storm staring down at her hands Kurt closing his eyes and obviously saying a silent prayer. The silence was broken when a teenage girl suddenly burst in, panting and wide-eyed, "Where's Professor Xavier?"
Storm turned and looked at her, startled, "Rogue? What...what's wrong?"
Rogue, also named Marie, was one of the youngest X-men and, though she still had no uniform (it was still on hold for a few more years), she was just as important a member as any. Rogue was truly an attractive girl, with milk-white skin and a newly bloomed body. She was petite and slim, shorter than Logan, adorned with an oval-shaped face and a flawless complexion. Her hair was long and sleek, falling form her scalp in a hazelnut ponytail, with two wisps of lightning white trailing down along her cheeks. The white streaks had once been as brown as the rest of her hair, but Magneto had fixed that for her. Rogue's ability was one that was very powerful...and a curse to her. If she touched anyone with her bare skin, she would obtain their powers from them, and, if she held on long enough, could even kill them. She had gone through the past few months of her life without direct human contact, or at least very little. Magneto, knowing that she could 'vacuum' mutants' powers from them, used her to operate a machine he had made that transformed humans into mutants. He could have very easily used it himself, but the use of it to change the world's residents into mutants would kill the user, and he felt that Rogue's life would be a better sacrifice than his own. He came very close to succeeding, even coming to the point of killing Rogue, but the X- Men had stopped him. By the time Wolverine had stopped the machine, however, Rogue had been dead for several minutes. Logan, knowing that every second counted now, had forced Rogue to take in his healing ability, and saved her form her awful fate. Rogue, although the incident was already printed clearly in her mind, now had two streams of white hair to remind her of the day her life, and some color of her hair, had been taken. Rogue's dark eyes were alight with anxiety, and she forced herself to remain somewhat serene as she gasped, "I need to speak to the professor! It's urgent!"
Storm got to her feet and strode over, cupping Rogue's face in her gloved hands, attempting to calm her, "Rogue, it's ok. Tell me what's wrong..."
"I need to see the professor!" Rogue gasped, "I have to! I dunno what to do..."
Rogue could say no more, as her throat was suddenly blocked with a lump of emotion.
Kurt and Storm exchanged looks.
Nightcrawler came over and gave Rogue a smile, "Why do you need the professor?" Rogue shook her head unable to say.
"Is it bad?" Storm asked.
Rogue nodded, eyes wide, face pale.
"What happened?" Storm asked, obvious concern imprinted on her soft voice.
Rogue's eyes searched the room, as if she would find the right explanation somewhere in there.
Finally, she choked, "I...I touched someone. A kid. Just a...little kid...I didn't mean to! I was...I was watching TV and he came up in front of me and I bumped into him when I got up...he fell, so I caught him...I didn't touch him long...I...I didn't mean to!"
But Nightcrawler had long since disappeared, racing forward to find the wounded child. Rogue had tears pooling in her eyes, "I'm such a curse," she whispered, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Storm shook her head, "No. No you're not, Rogue. Don't think that way."
"I can't help it," Rogue said, "It's true! I mean...I can't even touch anyone! You'd be dead now, if it weren't for your gloves!"
Strom glanced at the black gloves adorning her hands and sighed, "Rogue, you just have to learn to control the intensity of your power. Be patient. Things will look up. I promise."
Storm wiped the tears away from Rogue's cheeks with her thumbs and gave her a smile. Rogue nodded but Storm could see that she still felt hopeless.
She exhaled sadly as Rogue mumbled, "I'd better go tell the professor anyway...just to be safe..."
Storm watched Rogue leave the room with a heavy sadness on her heart; she couldn't imagine not being able to touch someone, and then the guilt one would feel after accidentally hurting someone...
Storm shook her head, "I wish I knew how to help. It's times like these I wish Jean-"
She cut herself off painfully.
Biting back tears, reaching to unclasp the cape flowing over her shoulders and down her back, Storm suddenly remembered something.
"Rogue!" she called, hurrying out the door, "The professor's gone! He went down to the city to help clean up!"
Rogue halted and looked back, "Clean up.?"
"From the fire," Storm explained, walking over to her, ".from the Brotherhood."
Rogue's eyes hardened, "I see."
Storm gave her a sad smile, "I'm sure everything will turn out ok, Rogue."
The girl nodded in reply, and forced a smile, "Thanks, Storm. You're.you're a great friend. I..I only wish we coulda been of some help. I mean, why didn't the professor just let us go fight the Brotherhood?"
"All he said was that now was not the time for war.and that he would try to calm them down a bit. I think it's hopeless, though. The Brotherhood is getting stronger and stronger.and they have more hatred in their hearts every day."
Rogue nodded and bit her lip, "They got Toad and Sabertooth back. I thought they'd died."
"I did too. It seems we underestimated them."
Rogue looked at the floor, and when she finally glanced up at Storm, tears were pooling in her eyes, "Storm...I'm.I'm afraid. The Brotherhood seems so intent on killing normal people.and anyone who stand in their way. What if.what if they succeed?"
Storm swallowed and sighed, "Rogue, no one knows what the future holds, and no one controls destiny. All we can do is hope.and pray.for a safe future."
Rogue nodded, wiping her eyes and mumbling,. "I.I have to go now."
Then she embraced Ororo, and continued down the hall, turning into her room.
The TV room was jumbled with babbling, anxious students. Most of them were whispering nervously, or casting wary glances in front of the television, but a few were going so far as to cry. Kurt eventually managed to pick his way through the crowd, and when he finally made it to the front, he saw the child that Rogue had touched. He was young, maybe nine or ten, and he was sitting on the floor in a daze, looking pale and nauseous, but otherwise fine. Kurt reached down and helped him to his feet, "Are you alright?"
The kid nodded, "Y-yea...I...I think so...I just...I think...I need to throw up..."
Nightcrawler stepped back uncertainly, "Ok...uh...well, let's get you to a bathroom, then..." Cautiously, he steered the kid through the crowd, which parted easily, all of the kids obviously not thrilled with the idea of getting hurled on. On the way through the hall, Kurt saw Bobby Drake, Rogue's boyfriend, running towards him. "Have you seen Rogue?" he asked breathlessly, wiping sweat away from his eyes.
Kurt nodded, "Yep. Sure have, Iceman."
Bobby sighed at the sound of his 'mutant' name; he could form ice with his bare hands and stand great bouts of freezing temperatures, so he was called Iceman. "Where is she? I've been looking everywhere! She just took off...how's the kid?" he added, nodding at the boy in front of Kurt.
"Sick," Kurt replied, "Actually, he's about to.ummm.lose his dinner, as I've heard you students artfully say, so if you don't mind..."
Bobby obligingly moved over, "Where was Rogue?"
"Last time I saw, she was in Storm's room."
"Ok. Thanks."
Bobby took off up the stairs.
Storm nearly collided with Bobby as she raced hurriedly down the stairs. "Storm! Hey, have you seen Rogue?" Storm nodded, "Yes, she's in her room with Kitty." Bobby was already racing down the hall, and Storm called after him, ".but you may want to stay away for a bit! You know how she likes to be left alone!" She saw Bobby halt and look back at her, giving her a puppy-dog face. Storm laughed and shrugged, "It's your head, Bobby, not mine." He immediately crashed into Rogue's room.
Kurt remembered what it was like the last time he got sick. It had been awful, the feeling of constant dizziness, the lost appetite, the awful, nauseous feeling. He gave the boy as much sympathy as he could, but he was just a little unsure of what to do; he'd only been in the mansion for a couple of months, and it wasn't as if he was used to be around young kids. The boy was sniffling and blubbering, stumbling along to the sink, reeking of yesterday's dinner. He slowly plodded drunkenly over to the sink, where he stood on his tiptoes and stretched his hand out to the faucet. Then he realized he couldn't reach it, and his shoulders slumped. Luckily, Nightcrawler came to the rescue. "Here," he said, lifting the boy up slightly, "Is that better?"
The kid smiled, "Thanks."
"No problem."
That was when Storm ran by, pulling on her gloves, her eyes cloudy with anxiety. The two boys looked at each other, and then were after her in seconds. "Storm?" the kid asked uncertainly. Storm looked down at him, saw his stained shirt, and halted, "Kenny.?" The boy blushed, "I.I.uh." Kurt cut him off helpfully, "He got sick." Kenny nodded. Storm gave him a smile, "I hope you're feeling better?" Kenny beamed, "Yea. Kurt helped me." "That's good." Storm kneeled down and straightened his sweaty hair, "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower, then get to bed. It's a little late for a school night." "Yes Ma'am." Kenny obligingly took off, a big grin plastered to his face. "They really seem to like you here," Kurt commented, and then turned to find her halfway to the front door. He ran up next to her, "Hey? What's the hurry?" "The professor is coming back. He said it's urgent that I have Jean's office ready. He has another child." "Another? A mutant child? Hurt?" Storm was very fast, and Kurt was nearly running to keep up with her. "Yes, it's a mutant. Her name is Twilight." Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, "I've heard that name before." "I imagine you have. She's a very important mutant. I can't explain it all top you right now, but perhaps after things calm down." Kurt nodded as he followed her down to Jean's old office.
Marie De-Ancanto and Kitty Pryde both looked up when Bobby burst in. Rogue gave him a look, "Bobby, don't worry. I'm fine." Bobby, after stumbling a few feet into the room, stood up straight and tall, "I know. I was just checkin'." Rogue rolled her eyes and Kitty giggled, "Siddown." Bobby gladly obliged, dropping down next to Rogue and smiling sat Kitty, "Hey, Shadowcat. How's it goin?" Kitty beamed, "Just fine, thanks." "Glad to hear it." Kitty was not one to butt in on someone's private moments. Grinning widely, winking at Rogue, she stood and backed out the door, "I'll just go grab a midnight snack." Then she backed directly through the solid door. Rogue and Bobby never even reacted. "You're surer a silly boy sometimes, Bobby Drake," Rogue stated simply, shaking her head. Bobby shrugged, "What? I can check up on you." "Five minutes after you last saw me?" Bobby lifted his shoulders again, "You're a lot to look after." Rogue pummeled him playfully with a pillow, and within a few moment's time, an all out pillow fight/tickle fest began.
Scott Summers was a tall, muscular man with good features such as a clean- shaven face, neat brown hair, and a smile to die for. He, like Storm, was still in his uniform, which consisted of the same thing all of them wore: Black pants, t-shirt, leather jacket, boots, ands gloves; Storm was the only one with a cape, simply because it worked for her. The uniforms were more than just modish, though. They were also specially designed to maintain a perfect body temperature in harsh conditions, minimize enemy impacts by a considerable amount, and serve as camouflage; they were also bullet and fire proof. All of the X-men wore their uniforms pretty consistently, except when they taught school. Scott was different from the rest of the X-men for one reason: he had 'shades'. Scott's mutant ability was to shoot lasers form his eyes. His beams were strong enough to punch a hole through a mountain, but he couldn't control them at all unless he wore his visor. His visor was both the reason for his codename, Cyclops, and the reason he could simply walk through the school without killing anyone and everyone when he opened his eyes. A special dial on the side of the visor enabled him to tweak the lasers to go as powerful or weak as he wanted; currently, like most times, the dial was at 'off', but woe betide you if you stepped in front of him during battle... Scott was sitting in the kitchen, resting contentedly on a barstool, a bottle of Dr. Pepper standing before him on the counter. He was normally very talkative and liked to be around people, but lately he'd just wanted to be left alone. Ever since Jean's death, he had been very different. He's been keeping to himself, sleeping all day and refusing to eat, the life seemingly drained out of him. Jean had been his life, his joy.the very core of his being, and at the second her last breath escaped her, his heart had shattered into a trillion tiny pieces. At the moment, he was reading a magazine-rather, he was staring blankly at the same page he'd been on for an hour-and simply resting, trying to keep Jean out of his head. It had been a few hours since Xavier had left with Logan, and Scott had never moved at all. His Dr. Pepper bottle was almost empty, and it was growing quite warm, but Scott didn't care. He was in a semi-zombie state, his very soul penetrated with devastation. Suddenly, he jerked awake at the numbing roar of an all-to-familiar plane. Sighing, he dragged himself out of his chair and walked out in the hall; his Dr. Pepper bottle stood, like him, empty and lifeless.
Jean's old office was different than any of the other X-Men. Hers was nothing less than a hospital room, with a bed, an operating table, an X-ray ma machine, and several drawers that no doubt held all sorts of vaccines and tools used for doctoring. Storm wasn't as good at doctoring as Jean had been. Jean Gray had gotten an actual doctor's certificate, had worked in a hospital, had worked with actual human beings for a paying job. All Storm knew was what Jean had taught her. She hoped that was enough.
Going through all Jean had taught her, her heart throbbing under her chest, Storm went about preparing Jean's office, biting back tears at the memories of her good friend. Kurt did all he could to help-setting out the medical tray, putting clean sheets on the bed, getting out medication-but it never seemed to do any good; Storm stayed melancholy and serious, her eyes filled with uncontainable sadness. Today had been a harder day than usual, Kurt knew. Today had been Jean's birthday; she would have been twenty-four years old. All Kurt could do was pray for his dear friend, and hope against hope that everything would turn out ok. Finally, the sound of the plane could be heard, and both Kurt and Storm walked swiftly to the garage, where they knew Xavier would be waiting.
Then X-Jet was a majestic plane, with sleek dark wings and a tough-as-nails metallic surface that gleamed in the light. Several black windows lined the aircraft's slim exterior, and it flew as majestically as any winged bird. Inside, it was even more remarkable, with a dozen seats set in two lines, and too many buttons and levers to count. Twilight was currently seated in between Xavier and Logan both of whom were flying the plane and talking casually, as if she wasn't there. Perhaps an hour before, they had wrapped her in a blanket and carried her over to a parked and running car, which they entered and stayed, silent, as they were driven away from the city. When the car had stopped, they entered into the X-Jet, which normally would have stunned Twilight speechless.but she was unconscious form what Xavier dubbed 'dehydration and lack of nourishment'.
Now she was slumped over, exhausted, in her seat, the blanket concealing everything but her face, her eyes half-open in a vain attempt to take everything in. Never before had she felt so.sick. That was really the only word for it. She was dead-tired, to the point that even blinking was a chore. Her muscles all ached, and breathing caused a throbbing pain in her chest.
Her stomach ached horribly, emptier than it had ever been before (she hadn't been able to steal any decent food for at least two weeks). Her mouth was parched and dry, and she had trouble swallowing because her throat was so swelled and achy. She couldn't remember ever feeling so horribly. Perhaps that was why she wasn't putting up a fight at the moment. Normally she would have simply ran off and hid, so as to not be discovered; but the entire shock of the evening and her combined sickness was about all she could handle at one time.
All she could do was hope that, wherever she was going, it was easy to escape from.
Sometimes, we meet people that we simply know we can trust. We feel it in our hearts and know it in our minds: These people will help us and care for us, no matter what. We can actually feel the love radiating from them, like beams of warm sunlight washing over our skin, and the most profound and amazing peace comes over us, so that even our deepest fears disappear.
That was how it was for Twilight with Storm. The second she really looked into those eyes-really saw the kindness and loyalty pooled there-she trusted her. As soon as the X-jet sailed lazily into the garage, Twilight noticed the group of darkly-dressed people outside.
Out of instinct, she wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders and looked at the ground, hoping to seem as invisible as she wished to be. As the plane finally stopped, the engine humming sadly into silence, Logan stood and extended a hand to Twilight as the professor rolled to the back of the plane, where a ramp had been lowered and a door opened.
"C'mon, Kid. We're here to help."
Twilight bit her lip and continued looking at the ground.
Logan sighed, "Look, it isn't like we're any more scary than those bums you lived with on the street."
"Leave her, Logan," Xavier called from the ramp, "I'll send Storm up to get her."
As Logan disappeared from view, following Xavier out of the plane, Twilight's heart leapt to her throat; Storm? What kind of a person would have the name Storm?
After a few moments of muffled talking and a few laughs, Twilight heard footsteps on the ramp behind her, and she shrank deeper into the blanket, her mouth going dry. Her heart was trilling wildly against her ribs, her skin suddenly tingling with cold as a slender form came into view from through the hooded blanket. The person stopped before her and kneeled down; it was a lady, which Twilight had figured, and she was very pretty.
The woman smiled kindly, softly, "Hi."
Twilight looked up at her a little closer and mouthed, "Hi."
"What's your name?"
".Twilight."
"I'm Storm, but my birth name is Ororo."
Twilight nodded in response, allowing her eyes to drift slowly up to Ororo's kind face.
" I promise I'm not going to hurt you, ok? We just need to take you down to the office to check up on you. We're going to help. I promise."
She tilted Twilight's chin up with her hand and looked her in the eyes, "I promise I'll take care of you. All you need to do is trust me.trust us. Ok?"
After a second, Twilight allowed herself to look into those oceans of blue. Storm's eyes were so pretty, wild and daring like a hurricane, but so affectionate that they glowed like a sunset.
Finally, Twilight gave a whisper of a grin and took the hand held out to her.
Late that night, long after everyone had gone to bed and as the mansion creaked and sighed in its own slumber, Storm sat awake and alert, her chair drawn to the edge of the bed Twilight slept on. She frowned slightly, her eyes flicking from the IV attached to the child's wrist, to the half-eaten bowl of soup on the nightstand, to the girl's chest rising and falling steadily, to the clock on the wall: 2:25 a.m. Storm raised her eyebrows, surprised; it hadn't felt like it had been that long since Kurt had bid her goodnight at midnight. Storm stood slowly and stretched luxuriously, much like a cat might, as she headed over to the fridge next to Jean's office. Running a hand through her shimmering hair, she opened the door to the fridge and leaned in, looking at what there was to drink.
Several bottles of medicines and water glistened innocently up at her form the shelves, as well as sodas, a gallon of milk, some yogurt, pudding, Jell- O, and lunchmeat. Ororo chose a bottled water and closed the door, leaning back against the counter and popping the lid off.
That was when she heard Twilight stir in the next room, and then: ".Storm?" Her voice was very, very quiet and sounded exhausted. The small voice became a little anxious, "Storm? Where are you?"
Storm set the bottle on the counter and hurried into the next room, smiling, "Hey. I'm right here. You ok?"
The child, obviously relieved at Ororo's appearance, eased back into the pillows and nodded, "Yes.I.I'm fine."
Ororo sat down on the edge of the bed and straightened Twilight's hair, "How do you feel?"
"Better. I'm thirsty, though."
"Want some water?"
"Yes, please."
Ororo smiled as she stood. It was very good that Twilight was accepting water; she had been worried that she would fight her tooth and nail about eating and drinking. As she stepped back into the 'kitchen' and went over to the fridge, she heard Twilight ask, "Storm..?"
"Yes?"
"Did.did they get those people from the city? The.the ones who hurt everyone?"
Ororo lifted a water from the fridge and set it on the counter, biting her lip; they hadn't gotten the Brotherhood. In fact, they didn't even have a clue as to where they were. However, Ororo was a intuitive woman, and she could sense the absolute terror Twilight had for them; for what reason, Storm had no idea.
Finally, as she closed the door again and headed back to Twilight, she replied, "No, they didn't, Honey. They got away. But you're safe here, with us. We won't let anything happen to you."
Twilight bit her lip slightly, a little scared, and then grinned a little, "Cuz you're superheroes, huh? I saw your uniforms and the plane and everything. You're mutant superheroes."
Ororo smiled and nodded, "That's right."
"And you fight for the safety of everyone.even humans, right?"
"Yes."
".Storm?"
Twilight paused as Storm held the glass of water to her lips, and then continued after swallowing, "What's your power?"
Ororo's eyes flashed slightly with pride, "Well.I can fly."
Twilight sat up, beaming, "For real?"
"For real," Storm laughed.
Twilight frowned slightly, "Then why are you called Storm?"
Ororo chuckled, "Because of this."
Slowly, her eyes began draining away into white, sparking slightly as thunder rolled overhead. Outside, lightning began to crackle through the sky, aided by the wind whistling overhead. Then, very suddenly, rain began lashing down heartlessly, hitting the window like bullets, joined very soon by hail. Twilight shivered a little, more awed than scared, and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself as the wind shrieked against the building, curtains of water beating down on it. Then, quite suddenly, it stopped, and all was peaceful again. Storm's eyes slowly faded back into their normal blue, and she smiled.
"That was amazing!" Twilight whispered breathlessly, eyes wide.
Ororo laughed, "Thank you."
"Can you do that anywhere? Anytime?"
"Yes. I can do anything with the weather."
"Even make it super hot?"
"If I want to."
"Is it hard?"
"Sometimes it can be, but not very often. It's usually about as easy for me as breathing."
"Wow."
Both of them were silent for a moment as Twilight looked out the window at the now clear sky.
Then, quietly, she murmured, "I got powers too."
"Do you?" Storm rested her chin in her hand, watching the girl before her, "What are they?"
"I'm telepathic. And it's hard for me to get hurt.and I'm really smart."
"Well that sounds great, Twilight."
The girl smiled sheepishly and looked down.
After a second, she whispered, "You know what else I can do."
It wasn't a question. Storm nodded, "Yes, I do."
"Everyone does. Every single mutant knows 'bout me, and some normal people too."
Ororo tilted her head a little, "That must be scary."
Twilight nodded earnestly, "It is. Everyone's after me.and everyone wants to kill me. I don't know who to trust."
Then, she turned her eyes to Storm's and gazed at her, "At least I didn't. I think you're the first person I've ever really trusted, Storm."
Ororo, truly touched, smiled graciously, "And that, Honey, is an honor."
Twilight grinned and, after hesitating only a moment, she wrapped her arms around Storm's neck.
Storm, feeling more honored than surprised at the hug, embraced her tightly, shocked at how much she already cared for the girl, and even more stunned at how quickly Twilight had returned the feeling.
"Storm, do I get to stay here forever?"
"If you want to, yes."
"And no one will get mad?"
"Oh no. Everyone will be very glad to see you."
Twilight, never having felt how it would be to have people actually glad to see her, sighed skeptically; how could anyone like her for her, and not her powers? "Does everyone know about me?"
"No. The students don't. Only the teachers."
"Are you gonna be my teacher?"
"When you're older, yes."
There was silence, and then: "Will you give me all A's if I behave?"
The sound of laughter echoed up the stairs and into Xavier's study, where the man was leaning in his chair, smiling as he listened to the girls' conversation; Twilight would be right at home here.
Disclaimer: In no way, in Heaven or on earth, do I own anything related to this story except for Twilight and perhaps a few others, and I have ZIP money to just blow on lawyers and stuff, so it's not worth suing me for anyway. *wicked grin*
Prelude-
New York City is a very overwhelming place at night. True, certain parts of it are awe-inspiring, making you stop every few steps to stand and gape at some magnificent wonder or another, and forcing upon you the slightest inkling of a thought: you're free. And there are, of course, the parts of it that say to you, "Come. Rest. You are safe here." The places where you simply want to sit down and sip at bitter-sweet cappuccinos, the places where you can simply collapse onto a bench and listen to the crickets sing over the roar of traffic behind you.
But then, there are the not-so-good places. Those places that seem always in shadow, hiding bums, drunks, and druggies who watch you from the darkness and maybe snicker.or follow you.
There are those places that are completely deserted, empty of everything except the moaning wind and melting blackness, where anyone-or anything- could leap at you and devour you.
Then there are those places that are a combination of both: A place that is darker than night, colder than ice, and so filled with evil that you can taste it like smoke on the air. They are places so stark, and yet so filled with malevolence, that once you step into it, it seems impossible to get away.
This is where a six-year-old girl known as Twilight thrived, streaking ghost-like through the alleys, dodging any malevolent people, and hiding behind dumpsters. Twilight had no home. She had no mother or father. No brothers or sisters. No pets or school. She was completely alone.
She slept at the closest available spot whenever she felt too exhausted to go on, she ate from dumpsters whenever she collapsed from starvation, and she somehow managed to steal children's clothes form clotheslines every few weeks. She only came out after sunset, when the sky above was tinged the almost transparent blue that signaled the coming of night. She had never even had a name until a few hoboes started calling her that, on the account that they only saw her appear at night.
It may seem impossible, being it is that she was so young, but she could take care of herself far better than one might appreciate. Twilight was exceedingly bright for her age, with so many thoughts floating through her head that even the most advanced telekinetic would feel overwhelmed. She was brave and resolute, and yet completely silent.though that was not her fault. Twilight was a mutant, a highly superb being with amazing powers, and that was probably the largest contribution to her daily survival.
Aside form enabling her to have a highly intellectual mind, her powers rendered her nearly impossible to harm, and also nearly impossible to catch. Though no one seemed to notice, Twilight could creep through the very smallest of spaces, squirming her way between tight walls to escape an angry washer-woman, or crawling under a dumpster to avoid the butcher she'd just stolen from.
Although Twilight could also do many more wondrous things, the most important was this: She held the lives of every living being on her shoulders. Twilight had, woven throughout her DNA, the genes of both mutants and humans. Every single existing thing was somehow tied to her, and if she was to ever die, everyone and anyone would pass on with her.
Twilight had known this for years, and had been running from city to city for as long as she could remember, simply to avoid being caught by those who wished to harm her. She was somewhat well-known in New York City, simply because no one had ever seen her up close, and no one had heard a single word out of her. Twilight had learned to speak like any other child, but she chose to keep her lips sealed, preferring silence to noise. Of course, speech was not something she needed, as she was a telepath and could both hear thought and speak to others through her mind. Oftentimes, she would walk down streets, listening as people thought, "What is a mere child doing here? Where are her parents?"
Twilight's infanthood was never known. No one has ever known where she came from, or how she survived for so long. Many assume that her mother passed away in childbirth, and Twilight was cared for by different people until she grew old enough to live on her own.
Still others argue that she was a ghost, traveling everywhere she had been in life, wishing for a second chance. Only Twilight knew the truth, and her story was far more unbelievable than anyone's guess. However, she never told anyone, not even her most trusted friends, of her past. She said that it was too painful-too frightening-too repeat.
And it's no wonder.
Day after day, she stayed in the shadows, oftentimes having to struggle free from some psychopath's grip, or even being awoken in the night by the sounds of screams and gunshots.
Wherever she went, she felt the presence of someone wishing her harm. She never felt safe or secure or loved, and she envied other children so much it made her heart burn.
She wanted, more than anything, a home like any other, with a mom and dad, maybe a brother or sister, a warm bed, real food, clothes, and love. She wanted to be able to go to school and do chores and fight with her siblings and get grounded to her room.
She wanted to make cookies and watch TV and play tag and just be a normal kid.one who didn't have to worry about being killed as much as she did. Twilight knew how important she was to humanity.
She also knew of the growing tension between mutants and humans. In her dreams, she had seen and heard people speaking of her, wistfully speaking of how she could be used to rid the world of mutants.or humans.
Those dreams always caused her to wake in the darkest hours of night, after she collapsed from exhaustion, screaming and sweating while her heart trilled against her ribs; everyone had a use for her, and all purposes ended in her death.
Most of the beings didn't frighten her very badly, though; there was only one group that made cold sweat break on her forehead and made her breath come in gasps: The Brotherhood of Evil Mutants, led by mutants named Magneto and Mystique. Magneto, also named Eric Lensherr, was a powerful mutant with the ability to control magnetic fields and twist the hardest metal as though it was taffy. His dream was of complete human annihilation, and of mutant superiority. As a child, Eric had been taken to several Holocaust camps, and tortured endlessly. The last straw had been when he had been forced to watch his mother and father be dragged away to their death; after that, he hated all humans.
Mystique, or Raven Darkholme, was a terribly wicked female mutant with the power to change into any mutant, human, or semi-human she wanted, though she never could obtain other mutants' powers. Raven despised humans as much as Eric if not more, though no one had ever found out why.
Twilight stayed awake at night, dreading the nightmares she would have, knowing that they were warnings-foretelling--of things to come. She had never met any mutant that wished to harm her, and she had never actually spoken to Mystique or Magneto, but she knew they lived nearby, that they were looking for her and waiting for just the right moment to take her. She knew that they even walked down the same streets she did, never even noticing when she brushed past their legs to get to the library or some other safe place. She saw on the front page pictures of fires and murders, all pointing to them. She felt completely helpless as she walked down the streets, never sure who she might bump into around the next corner, never certain who might grab her and carry her off. Her chest was filled constantly with fear and wariness, and her small face was solemn with worry and exhaustion, so that she appeared to be much older than she really was. One would think that such a little girl wouldn't be able to take such a lifestyle: Running constantly, hardly sleeping or eating, practically daring death to come for her. But she had.
How? Life. Life was the one thing that kept her going. She had not only her own life to worry about, but everyone's. And that was the reason for her tenacious endurance. That was the way it was for her, day in and day out, for as long as she knew, and she always expected it to stay that way until her dying day. It changed, however, sooner than she expected.
On one particular night, after awakening from a vivid nightmare, Twilight curled herself up against the harsh wind biting through a flimsy blanket she had stolen. The rain was beating down on the ground mercilessly, as if it fully-well intended to break through the asphalt and cause a fissure to split across the entire city. However, the cold was not the only thing that had jerked her ruthlessly from sleep. As she stood up and turned, her breath was suddenly swiped form her lungs at a tremendous sight: the sky, once so velvety black and peaceful, was alight with flames and choking in smoke. Twilight never even thought of the consequences as she, still clutching the blanket to her, raced barefoot out of the alley, to the street nearby.
The always busy street of Harlem Boulevard was in absolute disarray. Large chunks of asphalt were missing form the streets, and smoke poured into the black sky like a huge, writhing snake. Once majestic buildings were drowning in flames or tumbling to the ground, every brick crumbling to dust before everyone's eyes.
Everywhere nearby was lost in total disorder, the normally stunning beauty of the place gone; the gold of the serene lamplights, the silver of the full moon, the blue of the river, all melted away and replaced by a menacing, endless black. Shrieks of terror and confusion flooded into the night, joined by the wails of sirens and the constant explosions of gunfire. By the time Twilight reached the street, police had surrounded a large group of people and were loudly pleading for them to give in. The people seemed completely calm, a ripple of peace in an ocean of panic. They, all of them, were smiling slightly.especially one woman in particular, who appeared to be the leader. She was very stunning, a woman who obviously walked down the street and drew the eyes of everyone who saw her. She was tall and slender, with wavy blonde hair and gray-blue eyes. Her stance was one of power, one hand resting against her hip and the other holding a revolver to a young boy's head, while the slightest of smiles was curved upon her scarlet lips.
Her prisoner was maybe sixteen or seventeen, his body rigid with fear as his dark eyes stared down the barrel of the gun. He was breathing heavily, too panicked to cry or scream or faint. His pale face was glinting with sweat; slowly, his lips moved in an obvious plea for mercy. He was on his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides, entire form shaking with tremors. Behind the woman, several others were assembled, all obviously mutants. One was another man with green-tinted skin and hair and glowing yellow eyes, his face a mask of both idiocy and evilness. He was holding an older male across his shoulder, a rather dazed grin on his features as he ambled forward a bit, whispering in the woman's ear.
On the other side of the lady, with his arms crossed and pointed teeth bared, was a beast of utmost height and strength, with crazy, tangled blonde hair and black claws protruding form his paw-like hands. Currently, he clasped two women with his claws, laughing as they screamed in terror, looking ready to pass out.
".for you see, dear people, we mutants cannot stand for this any longer! Therefore, we have decided to teach you all a lesson.one you will not soon forget!" That voice cut into Twilight's soul like a burning knife. Slowly, she turned, breathing heavily as her eyes caught sight of the owner of the voice: Magneto.
She knew in an instant who they were: They were the Brotherhood. A sudden bolt of terror shot through Twilight's body, and she desperately considered running for her life. And then she saw the horrified eyes of the captives, and, taking a big breath, she rooted herself to the spot; now was not the time to move.not yet. Eric Lensherr was a handsome man, mid-sixties by appearance, young twenties by energy and wit. He was tall and powerfully built, his uniform stretched across his muscular body. His face was unsentimental and harsh, sporting a smile that chilled the very soul. His eyes were an icy stone gray, like his hair which was currently hidden under a helmet. Behind him was a teenage mutant, a boy that seemed a little out of place among the throng of full- grown mutants.
He was perhaps seventeen years old, with red-blonde hair, blindingly green eyes, and a very prominent smirk plastered on his pale face. In his right hand he held a lighter, which he flicked open and closed constantly: click, thack, click, thack. Suddenly, a flame appeared over the lighter, and the boy waved it over to him; he held the flame. She knew that he could do that already, though. His name was Pyro, and he was able to control fire of any sort, shape, or size. In reality, young as he was, he could make a very worthy opponent.
The people around her were screaming and running, always pushing at each other and fighting in their desperate plight to get away. Twilight, in her very quiet and shy way, somehow weaved her way through screaming people and trampling crowds to the very front, so that the nearest policeman was an arm's breadth away.
She still held the blanket around her neck, only her small head peeping out from the mass of soiled cloth. Someone nearby noticed her and started to tell the officer, but he was cut off as another explosion rattled the streets; the screams were deafening. Rocked by the sudden stampede of people, Twilight stumbled forward, crashing into the policeman and causing him to fall over into his partner, who tripped and set his gun off. That only caused more pandemonium, and people started grabbing officer's guns, shouting that if the police wouldn't kill the 'bad guys', they would. Twilight turned her gaze to the mutants, and saw, to her horror, a miraculous change occur.
The lady lazily resting the gun against the boy's head was beginning to change, slowly but surely. Tanned skin slowly melted into turquoise blue, dripping down from the long, angular face to the slender middle to the shapely thighs and onward, and clothes suddenly shrank to sink into the attractive form and in some places became scale-like flesh. Curly blonde hair seemed to burst into dark red flames, writhing until they became a straight, silken mane of deep crimson. Hazel eyes froze suddenly, leaking out and replaced by bright yellow that scintillated with hatred and wickedness as she smiled; her teeth were shocking white against her dark flesh.
The boy shuddered involuntarily and closed his eyes for a second, opening them again slowly, as if he thought she might disappear if he did. The people became even more terrified at Mystique's true appearance, and they were mindless with horror.
Mystique, however, seemed unfazed by the outburst. She merely watched with disinterest as a group of people dragged a taxi driver from his car and tossed him out before piling in and only then realizing that they didn't have keys to start the vehicle. Then her eyes swept over the group, stopping occasionally to watch another amusing scene, and finally resting on Twilight. She seemed a little taken aback at first, surprised as anyone at seeing such a young child in such a scene as that, and then she regained her composure. Twilight was watching her, more curious than scared for the moment. She had never truly seen Mystique's real form before, and she wanted to take a second just to study her. Mystique's lips melted into a slight smile; she winked at her and turned away, at last tossing the teenage boy into the crowd, to the obvious relief of the officers. Magneto turned and smiled at her, and she stated something before turning to point at Twilight; the child took a tentative step back, body ready to run if the need came. Magneto looked up and his eyes met hers. He raised his eyebrows and gave her the slightest of smiles before he looked at the crowd assembled before him, "People of New York, you have been foolish to try to stop us! Mutants are the future of this nation, and there is nothing you can do to stop us. In the end, we will destroy you completely and mercilessly, and you will all be sorry for turning against us."
Stepping back uncertainly, Twilight let the blanket fall from her shoulders and turned to the nearest officer, only then starting to feel afraid. Then, before she could stop it, her mind began to fog up, pain snaking through her brain, causing her to wince in agony. Her mind weaved its way through the people, past officers and women, past frightened men and crazy-looking elders until it crashed directly into Mystique, not even listening to Twilight's constant pleas.
Sensing the girl's antics, the lady whipped around to face her again, and this time her smile was not pleasant at all. Twilight covered her ears as the voices started and the visions swam into view, but nothing could stop her mind. In an instant she knew everything there was to know about Mystique. She was Raven Darkholme, the leader of the Brotherhood, and the one person who could indefinitely destroy Twilight. The darkness of her heart was more than a mere child could interpret. It was endless and black, wilting into infinite malevolence, marred with pain and hatred that seemed to double with every passing day. It was like a dark forest; a black sea; a shadowy alley. No light could ever split the waves of black that had long-ago swallowed her soul and had sucked her into a life of endless hate and murder. To a six-year-old, she was simply 'scary'. Someone to avoid at all costs; a monster who hid in your closet and slithered out after everyone but you had fallen asleep; a thing too frightening to speak of; the person that haunted your every nightmare. Mystique knew she was all of these things to most people.and she was filled with undeniable pride because of it.
A scream welled up Twilight's throat, choking her, making her suffocate on fear. Instantly her mind was filled with those dark, wicked thoughts of Mystique, thoughts so inhumanly cruel that it made Twilight's flesh crawl. Those ideas housed in her mind, those horrible plans for world domination, hit Twilight fully, causing her to double over, mouthing the words, "No.no." A darkness like none she had ever experienced began to seep through her veins, crackling and spitting flames of malevolence through her heart. Twilight shook her head, trying desperately to clear her mind, to get Mystique out of her brain, but she couldn't. She saw all of Mystique's hatred, her bitterness, her strength, her memories.her very dark, twisted soul that crawled and throbbed with relish of death. Twilight let out a tiny whimper and collapsed on the spot.
When she awoke, Twilight was on the side of the road, the rain slowly dying off, merely trickling and drizzling on her face. She sat up dizzily, for a moment forgetting where she was and what had happened, but soon regaining her memory and immediately jerking around, looking for Mystique. The street was mostly empty now, the fires put out and smoldering remains now littering the landscape.
The Brotherhood was gone, as were most of the policemen, and the sky showed the slightest tinge of pink; it was dawn. Twilight groaned and looked around, her eyes soon falling upon a man walking towards her. She backed up a little as he saw she was awake and hurried forward.
"Hey," he said gruffly, "You ok?"
She was still for a moment, and then she nodded slowly.
He stooped down to her level, "Where's your parents, Kid?"
She stared at him, wishing so much that she wouldn't have to talk, not wanting to let him know she was.a mutant.
His face hardened, "You're not an orphan, are ya?"
He had obviously meant it as a joke, but Twilight nodded anyway.
His face fell slightly, and he looked a little embarrassed, "Oh."
He was silent as his eyes switched over to the desolate scene before them. At long last, he looked back at her, "You livin in a home of some kind?"
She shrugged.
"You alone?" She nodded.
"How old are you?" After a second, she reluctantly held up six fingers.
He raised his eyebrows, "Dang. How long you been alone?"
She shrugged again.
"Know how to talk?"
She nodded slightly.
"Great."
He looked off into the distance again, and then muttered, "The Brotherhood again.came this close." He clenched his fist and shook his head, "..this close to just snappin' and killin' 'em all. Course, Charley wouldn't allow it., 'Too dangerous' he said. 'We're not here to kill. We're here to help.'." He glanced at Twilight, "That's all he dares about. Saving people. The way I see it, we'd be savin a lot o' lives if we just murdered the lot of 'em."
Twilight nodded silently in agreement.
"Course, now it's too late. They escaped. Even Charley dunno where they went. If God's good, they've been sucked down into Hell and are burning for their sins." He shook his head again and smirked, "Even that wouldn't be enough for me, though."
Suddenly, he seemed to realize that he was talking to a young child, and his head snapped up, "Oh.yea., Right. Just a kid. You'll have to ignore me, Kiddo. I go nuts sometimes." Twilight smiled slightly; she liked this guy already. The man grinned, "Listen, Kid. I'll go get ol' Charley boy and get him to sort this whole thing with you out. Maybe he can find you someplace to stay, right?"
Twilight nodded in agreement and softly whispered, "Ok."
"Ok. I'll be right back. Don't move."
Then he disappeared through the group of people again.
Twilight sighed and closed her eyes, concentrating hard on the man.letting her mind drift, as it oftentimes did. The man was named Logan, but he was also called Wolverine. Logan was the perfect example of any gangster motorcyclist seen on the street, although he was much, much more than just that. He normally wore faded blue jeans torn in several places, a worn muscle shirt, and a leather jacket that was fraying at the seams. His hair was longer than most of the men at the place, dark brown and wild, with sideburns at the side of his chiseled-stone face. Whiskers dappled his hard chin and crawled lazily up his strong jaw and above his smirking mouth, seemingly frozen in place by his ice-cold, dark eyes. However, although he was very rough, and oftentimes flat-out mean, Twilight knew him to be more than a rough-and-tumble fighter. He could also be, surprisingly, very selfless and somewhat funny, in his own twisted way. Many times he had risked his life to save others, and fought for those he could care less about. In reality, he had died for others. The only reason he still stood strong today was the fact that he had a very strong healing factor; he was almost invincible. Besides that, his bones were made of only the strongest metal, adamantium, which was laced throughout his body and was impossible to even dent. However, as impressive as his defensive powers were, his offensive was considerably more stunning, and frightening. Between his well-worn knuckles, where his skin was rough as sandpaper, almost invisible star-shaped scars exploded, where long, deadly blades-yes, blades-erupted. Of course, he could control his knives very well; they only came out when he sensed danger, or when he was especially angry. Now, however, he was in a perfectly companionable mood, so his blades stayed beneath his skin, where they were most liked.
Twilight knew all of that information about Logan in seconds. Immediately, her heart lifted slightly; he was a mutant, like her. She started to slide off of the bed she was on, preparing to run off down the nearest alley (she knew she still couldn't trust Wolverine or his 'Charley' friend), but just then, she saw Logan swimming through the crowd once more, and behind him was a older man in a wheelchair, who smiled warmly at her the second he saw her.
Once the two men reached her, the wheelchair man took her hands in his and said, "I am Charles Xavier, and I'm not going to hurt you, Twilight."
Immediately Twilight's heart and mind told her the same thing: Charles Xavier was truly not going to hurt her.and he knew who and what she was. She hesitated, looking down the alley, and then faced him again; if he seemed dangerous, she would run.
Xavier was a tall and majestic man, late forties, the type of man that most everyone would want for a grandfather. He was kind and wise; sometimes quiet, but most oftentimes teaching his students in his rich, English- accent. He was clean-shaven and pale, with a round face noted by dark brown eyes and a shaven head.
Xavier sensed the worry she felt and smiled, "You are safe with me, Twilight."
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters; that was the name of the school. It was a large, beautiful brick building that stretched along a regal estate for several miles, guarded by a cast-iron fence and decorated with waves of luscious green grass and sprouting flowers. Of course, at the moment, the grounds were covered in thick, fresh snow, so that everything outside was nothing but stark white. It was bitingly cold outside, with curtains of snow pummeling the ground and a sharp wind crashing against the school's clear window's, but inside it was safe and warm. Nothing in particular seemed different about the school; on the contrary, it was as normal-looking a school as any college might appear. It seemed to be a very pleasant, very fancy school for extremely intelligent children. Which, it was...in a way. In reality, the 'gifted youngsters' of the school were mutants, or beings with highly intellectual powers, such as controlling fire, running through walls, or growing to twice any kid's normal size. That was what the school was for. It was a basic training ground for younger mutants, a place where kids could see others like themselves and learn to form their powers into something controllable and good. Everyone there were mutants, from the teachers to the gardener, and it was there that any mutants, hated by the world and oftentimes murdered by fearful humans, could feel safe and wanted.
Inside the school, a certain woman was leaning her forehead against the cool glass of her window as she sat on a bench, looking out at the snow that pounded down on the grounds nearby. This woman, named Ororo Munroe but known as Storm to most, was ethereally beautiful. Tall and somewhat imposing, her form seemed completely flawless, as if only the most expertise workers had carved it from marble. Under her uniform (which was known as 'tight' 'cool' and 'awesome' to the kids in the school) was a well-shaped body, with curves where they were needed, muscles that weren't very apparent but still noticeable, and melted chocolate skin, flawless like the rest of her appearance. Her face, that of only the most wise and resolute of women, was framed by a long, flowing waterfall of shock-white hair that fell down past her shoulders almost to the middle of her back. Her jaw-line was hard and stubborn, showing that she was not easily frightened, but her almond eyes took any 'scariness' away from her and replaced it with kindness. Indeed, every child there who knew Storm loved her, knowing they could come to her for comfort for anything from a low grade to a breakup with a 'true love'. Indeed, Storm's heart was just as beautiful as her outward appearance, and to some of the people in the school, she was 'The Most Beautiful Woman in the World'. However, to Storm herself, she was just as naturally pretty as any of the other women and girls here. As Storm sat on her window seat and leaned her forehead against the window, completely immersed in her thoughts, her dear friend Kurt Wagner, (Known better as Nightcrawler) came into the room. He spotted Storm and immediately sensed that something was wrong, although it wasn't hard to figure out; Storm's eyes were slowly beginning to melt into as otherworldly a white as her hair, and the storm outside began to grow gradually worse. Storm, true to her name, could control weather and provoke the most terrifying storms known to mankind. Now, of course, she wasn't meaning to do so, but that changed nothing as hail the size of a man's fist began to beat on the roof. Nightcrawler rushed to his friend's side and calmly touched her shoulder; Storm flinched, then turned and smiled, her eyes going quickly back to normal and the blizzard outside diminishing, "Hey."
Nightcrawler smiled, "Hello. How are you?"
"Fine."
Nightcrawler shook his head and sat down next to Storm, "I do not think so," he stated in his rich German accent, "Tell me what is troubling you."
That was simply Nightcrawler's way; talk to me; I'll help you. Kurt was not exactly what you would call handsome. In fact, he looked more like a blue devil, or perhaps a stone gargoyle, than anything. His skin was the color of a midnight sky, which was quite a contrast to his electric yellow eyes, but a perfect match for his slick, dark hair. On his tall, wiry form were several beautiful markings sent from the angel Gabriel; there was one for every sin engraved upon his skin. Kurt was a devoted Catholic and a strong believer in God. For several months now, hew had been urging others to 'have faith' and to 'trust in God'; though it didn't work for some people, Kurt never gave up. Kurt was a teleporter, able to transport himself from one place to another with a single Pht! of foul-smelling purple smoke. It was really a very useful power, but Kurt considered his sweet personality and caring spirit to be his strongest traits. Now, Kurt gave a sharp-toothed smile, "Go on. I am listening." Storm hesitated, looking back out at the snow that still drifted down. The grounds were covered in a soft white blanket, as yet not trampled by the dozens of students in the school. Storm loved the sight of smooth, clean snow. It represented purity, something that had yet to be marked, something ready and waiting to receive anything that came to it.
Storm looked back at Kurt, frowning slightly, "I've just...had a hard day. I'll be better in the morning."
Kurt, however, knew better than to believe that. Though he had been acquainted with Ororo for a very limited time, he knew that she could hide her feelings behind storm clouds as easily as she could the sun. Kurt sat down next to Storm and placed a hand on her shoulder, "No, it's not just that, I can tell. What is it?"
Storm gazed out the window, and Kurt saw tears glistening in her deep brown eyes. He turned her chin towards him with his two-fingered hand, brow creased with worry. Storm took in a deep breath, and then exhaled while whispering, "I...I was just thinking about...about Jean."
Kurt's heart gave an almighty jerk; Jean had been Storm's best friend for a very long time, until...a few months past, when she had died saving everyone's lives. The adventure was strong in Kurt's mind, and though he hated to think of it, he saw everything unfold anyway: It had started with Kurt's kidnapping. He had been captured and taken to William Stryker, a wicked man and true hater of mutants of all kinds. Kurt had then been brainwashed and forced to attempt murder on the President, which of course caused a riot in the world and caused all living people to hate mutants even more. Kurt had eventually come to himself and taken refuge in an old abandoned church, where he was found by Storm and Jean and taken with them to be questioned by Xavier, the founder of the school. On the way, they had found that there was no way to communicate with any of the other mutants, and discovered that the school had been sabotaged by Stryker and that several of the students had been taken captive. It was then that the three 'groups' of beings came face-to-face: There was Magneto, Mystique, and their followers, who wanted nothing but mutant superiority and death of humans; William Stryker and those like him who wanted to destroy all mutants; and the X-men, who cared for both sides, and attempted to make peace between mutants and humans. Kurt had been with the X-men, although they had all grouped up with Magneto to save Xavier from Stryker and prevent the death of all mutants young and old. They did succeed, although Magneto and Mystique escaped and took one of the students (a boy named John, or Pyro) with them. Unfortunately, in the process of escape, the dam that held Stryker's base began to crack, and then an entire part of Alkali Lake (which had overflowed from years of abandonment) began to rush out. The X-men had gotten into their escape jet, but had discovered it unable to fly, so Jean had gone out and levitated it using her telekinesis, and then gave it power to run. Unable to get back to safety, she was swept away with the water...never to be seen again. Kurt let the tears come. Though he hadn't known Jean for very long, he could feel Storm's endless, ripping pain, and he wished more than anything to help her. "I am very sorry," he whispered.
Storm gave him a tearful smile, "It's alright, Kurt. No one could have done anything. She was...too strong...and too stubborn." Storm bit her lip and looked off at the snow again, blinking hurriedly to disperse her tears.
Kurt brushed away a stray tear from her cheek, "It is ok to cry, Friend."
Storm nodded, "I know. I know it's ok...but...I just...I can't..." She broke off then and swallowed hard, wiping her eyes with her graceful hands and inhaling sharply.
Kurt patted her shoulder sweetly, "She was a wonderful woman. I know that she is in Heaven with Our Father as we speak. Perhaps she is looking down and smiling upon us?"
Storm gave Nightcrawler the best smile she could muster, "Thank you, Kurt. You've helped me alot."
Kurt grinned, happy to have been some help, "It was nothing, My Friend."
They were silent for a moment, Storm staring down at her hands Kurt closing his eyes and obviously saying a silent prayer. The silence was broken when a teenage girl suddenly burst in, panting and wide-eyed, "Where's Professor Xavier?"
Storm turned and looked at her, startled, "Rogue? What...what's wrong?"
Rogue, also named Marie, was one of the youngest X-men and, though she still had no uniform (it was still on hold for a few more years), she was just as important a member as any. Rogue was truly an attractive girl, with milk-white skin and a newly bloomed body. She was petite and slim, shorter than Logan, adorned with an oval-shaped face and a flawless complexion. Her hair was long and sleek, falling form her scalp in a hazelnut ponytail, with two wisps of lightning white trailing down along her cheeks. The white streaks had once been as brown as the rest of her hair, but Magneto had fixed that for her. Rogue's ability was one that was very powerful...and a curse to her. If she touched anyone with her bare skin, she would obtain their powers from them, and, if she held on long enough, could even kill them. She had gone through the past few months of her life without direct human contact, or at least very little. Magneto, knowing that she could 'vacuum' mutants' powers from them, used her to operate a machine he had made that transformed humans into mutants. He could have very easily used it himself, but the use of it to change the world's residents into mutants would kill the user, and he felt that Rogue's life would be a better sacrifice than his own. He came very close to succeeding, even coming to the point of killing Rogue, but the X- Men had stopped him. By the time Wolverine had stopped the machine, however, Rogue had been dead for several minutes. Logan, knowing that every second counted now, had forced Rogue to take in his healing ability, and saved her form her awful fate. Rogue, although the incident was already printed clearly in her mind, now had two streams of white hair to remind her of the day her life, and some color of her hair, had been taken. Rogue's dark eyes were alight with anxiety, and she forced herself to remain somewhat serene as she gasped, "I need to speak to the professor! It's urgent!"
Storm got to her feet and strode over, cupping Rogue's face in her gloved hands, attempting to calm her, "Rogue, it's ok. Tell me what's wrong..."
"I need to see the professor!" Rogue gasped, "I have to! I dunno what to do..."
Rogue could say no more, as her throat was suddenly blocked with a lump of emotion.
Kurt and Storm exchanged looks.
Nightcrawler came over and gave Rogue a smile, "Why do you need the professor?" Rogue shook her head unable to say.
"Is it bad?" Storm asked.
Rogue nodded, eyes wide, face pale.
"What happened?" Storm asked, obvious concern imprinted on her soft voice.
Rogue's eyes searched the room, as if she would find the right explanation somewhere in there.
Finally, she choked, "I...I touched someone. A kid. Just a...little kid...I didn't mean to! I was...I was watching TV and he came up in front of me and I bumped into him when I got up...he fell, so I caught him...I didn't touch him long...I...I didn't mean to!"
But Nightcrawler had long since disappeared, racing forward to find the wounded child. Rogue had tears pooling in her eyes, "I'm such a curse," she whispered, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Storm shook her head, "No. No you're not, Rogue. Don't think that way."
"I can't help it," Rogue said, "It's true! I mean...I can't even touch anyone! You'd be dead now, if it weren't for your gloves!"
Strom glanced at the black gloves adorning her hands and sighed, "Rogue, you just have to learn to control the intensity of your power. Be patient. Things will look up. I promise."
Storm wiped the tears away from Rogue's cheeks with her thumbs and gave her a smile. Rogue nodded but Storm could see that she still felt hopeless.
She exhaled sadly as Rogue mumbled, "I'd better go tell the professor anyway...just to be safe..."
Storm watched Rogue leave the room with a heavy sadness on her heart; she couldn't imagine not being able to touch someone, and then the guilt one would feel after accidentally hurting someone...
Storm shook her head, "I wish I knew how to help. It's times like these I wish Jean-"
She cut herself off painfully.
Biting back tears, reaching to unclasp the cape flowing over her shoulders and down her back, Storm suddenly remembered something.
"Rogue!" she called, hurrying out the door, "The professor's gone! He went down to the city to help clean up!"
Rogue halted and looked back, "Clean up.?"
"From the fire," Storm explained, walking over to her, ".from the Brotherhood."
Rogue's eyes hardened, "I see."
Storm gave her a sad smile, "I'm sure everything will turn out ok, Rogue."
The girl nodded in reply, and forced a smile, "Thanks, Storm. You're.you're a great friend. I..I only wish we coulda been of some help. I mean, why didn't the professor just let us go fight the Brotherhood?"
"All he said was that now was not the time for war.and that he would try to calm them down a bit. I think it's hopeless, though. The Brotherhood is getting stronger and stronger.and they have more hatred in their hearts every day."
Rogue nodded and bit her lip, "They got Toad and Sabertooth back. I thought they'd died."
"I did too. It seems we underestimated them."
Rogue looked at the floor, and when she finally glanced up at Storm, tears were pooling in her eyes, "Storm...I'm.I'm afraid. The Brotherhood seems so intent on killing normal people.and anyone who stand in their way. What if.what if they succeed?"
Storm swallowed and sighed, "Rogue, no one knows what the future holds, and no one controls destiny. All we can do is hope.and pray.for a safe future."
Rogue nodded, wiping her eyes and mumbling,. "I.I have to go now."
Then she embraced Ororo, and continued down the hall, turning into her room.
The TV room was jumbled with babbling, anxious students. Most of them were whispering nervously, or casting wary glances in front of the television, but a few were going so far as to cry. Kurt eventually managed to pick his way through the crowd, and when he finally made it to the front, he saw the child that Rogue had touched. He was young, maybe nine or ten, and he was sitting on the floor in a daze, looking pale and nauseous, but otherwise fine. Kurt reached down and helped him to his feet, "Are you alright?"
The kid nodded, "Y-yea...I...I think so...I just...I think...I need to throw up..."
Nightcrawler stepped back uncertainly, "Ok...uh...well, let's get you to a bathroom, then..." Cautiously, he steered the kid through the crowd, which parted easily, all of the kids obviously not thrilled with the idea of getting hurled on. On the way through the hall, Kurt saw Bobby Drake, Rogue's boyfriend, running towards him. "Have you seen Rogue?" he asked breathlessly, wiping sweat away from his eyes.
Kurt nodded, "Yep. Sure have, Iceman."
Bobby sighed at the sound of his 'mutant' name; he could form ice with his bare hands and stand great bouts of freezing temperatures, so he was called Iceman. "Where is she? I've been looking everywhere! She just took off...how's the kid?" he added, nodding at the boy in front of Kurt.
"Sick," Kurt replied, "Actually, he's about to.ummm.lose his dinner, as I've heard you students artfully say, so if you don't mind..."
Bobby obligingly moved over, "Where was Rogue?"
"Last time I saw, she was in Storm's room."
"Ok. Thanks."
Bobby took off up the stairs.
Storm nearly collided with Bobby as she raced hurriedly down the stairs. "Storm! Hey, have you seen Rogue?" Storm nodded, "Yes, she's in her room with Kitty." Bobby was already racing down the hall, and Storm called after him, ".but you may want to stay away for a bit! You know how she likes to be left alone!" She saw Bobby halt and look back at her, giving her a puppy-dog face. Storm laughed and shrugged, "It's your head, Bobby, not mine." He immediately crashed into Rogue's room.
Kurt remembered what it was like the last time he got sick. It had been awful, the feeling of constant dizziness, the lost appetite, the awful, nauseous feeling. He gave the boy as much sympathy as he could, but he was just a little unsure of what to do; he'd only been in the mansion for a couple of months, and it wasn't as if he was used to be around young kids. The boy was sniffling and blubbering, stumbling along to the sink, reeking of yesterday's dinner. He slowly plodded drunkenly over to the sink, where he stood on his tiptoes and stretched his hand out to the faucet. Then he realized he couldn't reach it, and his shoulders slumped. Luckily, Nightcrawler came to the rescue. "Here," he said, lifting the boy up slightly, "Is that better?"
The kid smiled, "Thanks."
"No problem."
That was when Storm ran by, pulling on her gloves, her eyes cloudy with anxiety. The two boys looked at each other, and then were after her in seconds. "Storm?" the kid asked uncertainly. Storm looked down at him, saw his stained shirt, and halted, "Kenny.?" The boy blushed, "I.I.uh." Kurt cut him off helpfully, "He got sick." Kenny nodded. Storm gave him a smile, "I hope you're feeling better?" Kenny beamed, "Yea. Kurt helped me." "That's good." Storm kneeled down and straightened his sweaty hair, "Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower, then get to bed. It's a little late for a school night." "Yes Ma'am." Kenny obligingly took off, a big grin plastered to his face. "They really seem to like you here," Kurt commented, and then turned to find her halfway to the front door. He ran up next to her, "Hey? What's the hurry?" "The professor is coming back. He said it's urgent that I have Jean's office ready. He has another child." "Another? A mutant child? Hurt?" Storm was very fast, and Kurt was nearly running to keep up with her. "Yes, it's a mutant. Her name is Twilight." Kurt stopped dead in his tracks, "I've heard that name before." "I imagine you have. She's a very important mutant. I can't explain it all top you right now, but perhaps after things calm down." Kurt nodded as he followed her down to Jean's old office.
Marie De-Ancanto and Kitty Pryde both looked up when Bobby burst in. Rogue gave him a look, "Bobby, don't worry. I'm fine." Bobby, after stumbling a few feet into the room, stood up straight and tall, "I know. I was just checkin'." Rogue rolled her eyes and Kitty giggled, "Siddown." Bobby gladly obliged, dropping down next to Rogue and smiling sat Kitty, "Hey, Shadowcat. How's it goin?" Kitty beamed, "Just fine, thanks." "Glad to hear it." Kitty was not one to butt in on someone's private moments. Grinning widely, winking at Rogue, she stood and backed out the door, "I'll just go grab a midnight snack." Then she backed directly through the solid door. Rogue and Bobby never even reacted. "You're surer a silly boy sometimes, Bobby Drake," Rogue stated simply, shaking her head. Bobby shrugged, "What? I can check up on you." "Five minutes after you last saw me?" Bobby lifted his shoulders again, "You're a lot to look after." Rogue pummeled him playfully with a pillow, and within a few moment's time, an all out pillow fight/tickle fest began.
Scott Summers was a tall, muscular man with good features such as a clean- shaven face, neat brown hair, and a smile to die for. He, like Storm, was still in his uniform, which consisted of the same thing all of them wore: Black pants, t-shirt, leather jacket, boots, ands gloves; Storm was the only one with a cape, simply because it worked for her. The uniforms were more than just modish, though. They were also specially designed to maintain a perfect body temperature in harsh conditions, minimize enemy impacts by a considerable amount, and serve as camouflage; they were also bullet and fire proof. All of the X-men wore their uniforms pretty consistently, except when they taught school. Scott was different from the rest of the X-men for one reason: he had 'shades'. Scott's mutant ability was to shoot lasers form his eyes. His beams were strong enough to punch a hole through a mountain, but he couldn't control them at all unless he wore his visor. His visor was both the reason for his codename, Cyclops, and the reason he could simply walk through the school without killing anyone and everyone when he opened his eyes. A special dial on the side of the visor enabled him to tweak the lasers to go as powerful or weak as he wanted; currently, like most times, the dial was at 'off', but woe betide you if you stepped in front of him during battle... Scott was sitting in the kitchen, resting contentedly on a barstool, a bottle of Dr. Pepper standing before him on the counter. He was normally very talkative and liked to be around people, but lately he'd just wanted to be left alone. Ever since Jean's death, he had been very different. He's been keeping to himself, sleeping all day and refusing to eat, the life seemingly drained out of him. Jean had been his life, his joy.the very core of his being, and at the second her last breath escaped her, his heart had shattered into a trillion tiny pieces. At the moment, he was reading a magazine-rather, he was staring blankly at the same page he'd been on for an hour-and simply resting, trying to keep Jean out of his head. It had been a few hours since Xavier had left with Logan, and Scott had never moved at all. His Dr. Pepper bottle was almost empty, and it was growing quite warm, but Scott didn't care. He was in a semi-zombie state, his very soul penetrated with devastation. Suddenly, he jerked awake at the numbing roar of an all-to-familiar plane. Sighing, he dragged himself out of his chair and walked out in the hall; his Dr. Pepper bottle stood, like him, empty and lifeless.
Jean's old office was different than any of the other X-Men. Hers was nothing less than a hospital room, with a bed, an operating table, an X-ray ma machine, and several drawers that no doubt held all sorts of vaccines and tools used for doctoring. Storm wasn't as good at doctoring as Jean had been. Jean Gray had gotten an actual doctor's certificate, had worked in a hospital, had worked with actual human beings for a paying job. All Storm knew was what Jean had taught her. She hoped that was enough.
Going through all Jean had taught her, her heart throbbing under her chest, Storm went about preparing Jean's office, biting back tears at the memories of her good friend. Kurt did all he could to help-setting out the medical tray, putting clean sheets on the bed, getting out medication-but it never seemed to do any good; Storm stayed melancholy and serious, her eyes filled with uncontainable sadness. Today had been a harder day than usual, Kurt knew. Today had been Jean's birthday; she would have been twenty-four years old. All Kurt could do was pray for his dear friend, and hope against hope that everything would turn out ok. Finally, the sound of the plane could be heard, and both Kurt and Storm walked swiftly to the garage, where they knew Xavier would be waiting.
Then X-Jet was a majestic plane, with sleek dark wings and a tough-as-nails metallic surface that gleamed in the light. Several black windows lined the aircraft's slim exterior, and it flew as majestically as any winged bird. Inside, it was even more remarkable, with a dozen seats set in two lines, and too many buttons and levers to count. Twilight was currently seated in between Xavier and Logan both of whom were flying the plane and talking casually, as if she wasn't there. Perhaps an hour before, they had wrapped her in a blanket and carried her over to a parked and running car, which they entered and stayed, silent, as they were driven away from the city. When the car had stopped, they entered into the X-Jet, which normally would have stunned Twilight speechless.but she was unconscious form what Xavier dubbed 'dehydration and lack of nourishment'.
Now she was slumped over, exhausted, in her seat, the blanket concealing everything but her face, her eyes half-open in a vain attempt to take everything in. Never before had she felt so.sick. That was really the only word for it. She was dead-tired, to the point that even blinking was a chore. Her muscles all ached, and breathing caused a throbbing pain in her chest.
Her stomach ached horribly, emptier than it had ever been before (she hadn't been able to steal any decent food for at least two weeks). Her mouth was parched and dry, and she had trouble swallowing because her throat was so swelled and achy. She couldn't remember ever feeling so horribly. Perhaps that was why she wasn't putting up a fight at the moment. Normally she would have simply ran off and hid, so as to not be discovered; but the entire shock of the evening and her combined sickness was about all she could handle at one time.
All she could do was hope that, wherever she was going, it was easy to escape from.
Sometimes, we meet people that we simply know we can trust. We feel it in our hearts and know it in our minds: These people will help us and care for us, no matter what. We can actually feel the love radiating from them, like beams of warm sunlight washing over our skin, and the most profound and amazing peace comes over us, so that even our deepest fears disappear.
That was how it was for Twilight with Storm. The second she really looked into those eyes-really saw the kindness and loyalty pooled there-she trusted her. As soon as the X-jet sailed lazily into the garage, Twilight noticed the group of darkly-dressed people outside.
Out of instinct, she wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders and looked at the ground, hoping to seem as invisible as she wished to be. As the plane finally stopped, the engine humming sadly into silence, Logan stood and extended a hand to Twilight as the professor rolled to the back of the plane, where a ramp had been lowered and a door opened.
"C'mon, Kid. We're here to help."
Twilight bit her lip and continued looking at the ground.
Logan sighed, "Look, it isn't like we're any more scary than those bums you lived with on the street."
"Leave her, Logan," Xavier called from the ramp, "I'll send Storm up to get her."
As Logan disappeared from view, following Xavier out of the plane, Twilight's heart leapt to her throat; Storm? What kind of a person would have the name Storm?
After a few moments of muffled talking and a few laughs, Twilight heard footsteps on the ramp behind her, and she shrank deeper into the blanket, her mouth going dry. Her heart was trilling wildly against her ribs, her skin suddenly tingling with cold as a slender form came into view from through the hooded blanket. The person stopped before her and kneeled down; it was a lady, which Twilight had figured, and she was very pretty.
The woman smiled kindly, softly, "Hi."
Twilight looked up at her a little closer and mouthed, "Hi."
"What's your name?"
".Twilight."
"I'm Storm, but my birth name is Ororo."
Twilight nodded in response, allowing her eyes to drift slowly up to Ororo's kind face.
" I promise I'm not going to hurt you, ok? We just need to take you down to the office to check up on you. We're going to help. I promise."
She tilted Twilight's chin up with her hand and looked her in the eyes, "I promise I'll take care of you. All you need to do is trust me.trust us. Ok?"
After a second, Twilight allowed herself to look into those oceans of blue. Storm's eyes were so pretty, wild and daring like a hurricane, but so affectionate that they glowed like a sunset.
Finally, Twilight gave a whisper of a grin and took the hand held out to her.
Late that night, long after everyone had gone to bed and as the mansion creaked and sighed in its own slumber, Storm sat awake and alert, her chair drawn to the edge of the bed Twilight slept on. She frowned slightly, her eyes flicking from the IV attached to the child's wrist, to the half-eaten bowl of soup on the nightstand, to the girl's chest rising and falling steadily, to the clock on the wall: 2:25 a.m. Storm raised her eyebrows, surprised; it hadn't felt like it had been that long since Kurt had bid her goodnight at midnight. Storm stood slowly and stretched luxuriously, much like a cat might, as she headed over to the fridge next to Jean's office. Running a hand through her shimmering hair, she opened the door to the fridge and leaned in, looking at what there was to drink.
Several bottles of medicines and water glistened innocently up at her form the shelves, as well as sodas, a gallon of milk, some yogurt, pudding, Jell- O, and lunchmeat. Ororo chose a bottled water and closed the door, leaning back against the counter and popping the lid off.
That was when she heard Twilight stir in the next room, and then: ".Storm?" Her voice was very, very quiet and sounded exhausted. The small voice became a little anxious, "Storm? Where are you?"
Storm set the bottle on the counter and hurried into the next room, smiling, "Hey. I'm right here. You ok?"
The child, obviously relieved at Ororo's appearance, eased back into the pillows and nodded, "Yes.I.I'm fine."
Ororo sat down on the edge of the bed and straightened Twilight's hair, "How do you feel?"
"Better. I'm thirsty, though."
"Want some water?"
"Yes, please."
Ororo smiled as she stood. It was very good that Twilight was accepting water; she had been worried that she would fight her tooth and nail about eating and drinking. As she stepped back into the 'kitchen' and went over to the fridge, she heard Twilight ask, "Storm..?"
"Yes?"
"Did.did they get those people from the city? The.the ones who hurt everyone?"
Ororo lifted a water from the fridge and set it on the counter, biting her lip; they hadn't gotten the Brotherhood. In fact, they didn't even have a clue as to where they were. However, Ororo was a intuitive woman, and she could sense the absolute terror Twilight had for them; for what reason, Storm had no idea.
Finally, as she closed the door again and headed back to Twilight, she replied, "No, they didn't, Honey. They got away. But you're safe here, with us. We won't let anything happen to you."
Twilight bit her lip slightly, a little scared, and then grinned a little, "Cuz you're superheroes, huh? I saw your uniforms and the plane and everything. You're mutant superheroes."
Ororo smiled and nodded, "That's right."
"And you fight for the safety of everyone.even humans, right?"
"Yes."
".Storm?"
Twilight paused as Storm held the glass of water to her lips, and then continued after swallowing, "What's your power?"
Ororo's eyes flashed slightly with pride, "Well.I can fly."
Twilight sat up, beaming, "For real?"
"For real," Storm laughed.
Twilight frowned slightly, "Then why are you called Storm?"
Ororo chuckled, "Because of this."
Slowly, her eyes began draining away into white, sparking slightly as thunder rolled overhead. Outside, lightning began to crackle through the sky, aided by the wind whistling overhead. Then, very suddenly, rain began lashing down heartlessly, hitting the window like bullets, joined very soon by hail. Twilight shivered a little, more awed than scared, and wrapped her blanket tighter around herself as the wind shrieked against the building, curtains of water beating down on it. Then, quite suddenly, it stopped, and all was peaceful again. Storm's eyes slowly faded back into their normal blue, and she smiled.
"That was amazing!" Twilight whispered breathlessly, eyes wide.
Ororo laughed, "Thank you."
"Can you do that anywhere? Anytime?"
"Yes. I can do anything with the weather."
"Even make it super hot?"
"If I want to."
"Is it hard?"
"Sometimes it can be, but not very often. It's usually about as easy for me as breathing."
"Wow."
Both of them were silent for a moment as Twilight looked out the window at the now clear sky.
Then, quietly, she murmured, "I got powers too."
"Do you?" Storm rested her chin in her hand, watching the girl before her, "What are they?"
"I'm telepathic. And it's hard for me to get hurt.and I'm really smart."
"Well that sounds great, Twilight."
The girl smiled sheepishly and looked down.
After a second, she whispered, "You know what else I can do."
It wasn't a question. Storm nodded, "Yes, I do."
"Everyone does. Every single mutant knows 'bout me, and some normal people too."
Ororo tilted her head a little, "That must be scary."
Twilight nodded earnestly, "It is. Everyone's after me.and everyone wants to kill me. I don't know who to trust."
Then, she turned her eyes to Storm's and gazed at her, "At least I didn't. I think you're the first person I've ever really trusted, Storm."
Ororo, truly touched, smiled graciously, "And that, Honey, is an honor."
Twilight grinned and, after hesitating only a moment, she wrapped her arms around Storm's neck.
Storm, feeling more honored than surprised at the hug, embraced her tightly, shocked at how much she already cared for the girl, and even more stunned at how quickly Twilight had returned the feeling.
"Storm, do I get to stay here forever?"
"If you want to, yes."
"And no one will get mad?"
"Oh no. Everyone will be very glad to see you."
Twilight, never having felt how it would be to have people actually glad to see her, sighed skeptically; how could anyone like her for her, and not her powers? "Does everyone know about me?"
"No. The students don't. Only the teachers."
"Are you gonna be my teacher?"
"When you're older, yes."
There was silence, and then: "Will you give me all A's if I behave?"
The sound of laughter echoed up the stairs and into Xavier's study, where the man was leaning in his chair, smiling as he listened to the girls' conversation; Twilight would be right at home here.