A/N: Here we are, the next chapter~~ We have (as LadyDeathStrike1
requested) more Kurt, as well as the meeting of Jean and Scott (in reply to
Optic Red's and aimtbj's requests) Thanks for all the reviews!!! They are
what keep this story going~~
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Rain pattered on the farmhouse roof as lightening flashed in the bedroom window. The fuzzy blue mutant sighed, staring longingly out the window and at the torrential rains. It had been almost as week since he'd last been allowed outside. His adoptive parents had withdrawn him from Ostseite Grundlegend (A/N: I have no clue what school Kurt attended, so I have dubbed it East Side Elementary) and had insisted he remain indoors "until things calmed down." Shortly afterwards, the rains came, confining Kurt in his lonely prison.
How he longed to be outside! To feel the rain beat upon his tired face, to frolic in the mud like a young toddler! Kurt had spent the past eight years growing up on a farm, rarely staying indoors long enough to learn the color of his bedroom walls! Well, he knew his walls now, every crack, every corner, every smudge of smeared paint; he knew it so well he was physically ill from the knowledge.
"Cruel and unusual punishment, zat's vhat zis is," he muttered as lightening flashed again. Crossing to the opposite wall, Kurt gently opened the window, allowing the sounds of the storm to echo within his walls. "Zat's better," he sighed, almost contentedly, as he lay back down on his cozy bed, closing his yes and inhaling the sweet, succulent scent of rain.
'Ah, to be outside,' his mind roamed, tracing over the image of the farm that had imprinted itself in his brain. He could see it all so clearly; the stream rising with the heavy rains, grazing pastures soaking in the much-needed rain, the livestock huddled for warmth in the old barn, the bar itself – shingles flying from the roof as the rain and wind deprived its wooden walls of their faded paint.
As he traveled over the land in his mind's eye, a distinct smell of sulfur wafted in with the sweet rain. Kurt felt himself sink into the deep muddy ground as raindrops pounded his closed lids, causing him to pry his eyes open in astonishment. Gazing around at the open land surrounding him, Kurt shivered in the German rain, but not from the cold, from a secret he could feel rising within him, dying to be revealed.
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The 14-year-old boy fidgeted in his freshly ironed clothes, the starched bandage stiff and uncomforting around his eyes. He didn't understand why he had to look so nice; this girl would be living with them, she'd be lucky to ever catch Scott in a collared, button-down shirt and corduroy pants again. In his opinion, they were giving her the wrong first impression, they were lying to her with their appearances, they may as well lie about their names and past lives while they were at it, just let her think she was at some fancy prep school. Underneath the confining bandage, Scott rolled his eyes with the last thought. He knew he was being cynical, but that was part of his nature, he may change his appearance but he would not change his personality to help east h move of some preppy girl.
Hearing the familiar sound of the Professor's car gently crunching the gravelly driveway, Scott tensed in his chair. 'They're here already?' Hidden under his cool demeanor, the boy began to panic. It had been over eight years since he'd last met a civilized child of his own age, and though he'd spent the last few months behaving in a decorous manner before adults, he was beginning to feel the savage thief rising within him causing him to wonder if he was truly prepared to meet this girl.
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"We're here, little one," Professor Xavier turned in his seat, observing the frightened child. "Do not worry, you have nothing to fear," he motioned out the window as three forms appeared on the mansion's front steps. "It seems as though everyone is anxious to meet you."
Jean nodded, yet she shrunk back in her seat. She did not wish to meet these strange people; she wanted her mother and father.
The professor sighed, "I know it's hard, Jean, and we are not asking you to make up your mind yet. I know you want to be with your family, but let us give this a try, eh? If you don't like it we will certainly drive you home, we would not keep you here against your will."
Nodding, her flaming hair cascaded in ripples down her back. Biting her lip, Jean reluctantly emerged from the car, pausing to take in the sight before her; a tall, dark-skinned woman with sleek snow-white hair stood regally between to men, her glowing smile – warm and welcoming – bestowed itself upon Jean. To her right stood a short, muscular man with hard chiseled features and a wolfish smile. His appearance frightened Jean but he was already projecting thoughts loud enough for Jean to tell that he wasn't all that harsh under his tough exterior. And to the African's left stood, well, you couldn't exactly call him a man nor a boy, but a male that appeared to be around her age, thought Jean could tell he had experienced more than most men would in their lifetimes. Out of the three interesting strangers, the boy intrigued her the most. His dark, shaggy hair hung over a stark-white bandage that appeared to be wrapped around his eyes. He stood in freshly pressed clothes that she was sure were not his own, with a fake smile plastered upon his face as thought it had been painted on by another.
Jean was jarred out of her observant trance by the soothing sound of the professor's voice. "Jean, I would like you to meet the rest of the Institute's occupants. This is Logan," the small man bowed his head as the professor gesticulated in his direction.
"How are ya?" He asked in a politer tone than was usual for him.
"And to his left is Ororo Monroe,"
"Welcome, Jean," the tall woman smiled warmly.
"And lastly, this is Scott Summers."
The boy nodded curtly and quickly uttered a rushed "hello" after inconspicuous prodding by Ororo and a disapproving glance from Logan.
Jean smiled to herself as the boy's cheeks flamed in humiliation. She could tell by the snippets of thoughts filtering through her mind that she was the first girl to cross Scott's path in a great many years, but that was all Logan and Ororo would reveal, no other thoughts about the boy pushed into her mind and she was receiving no thoughts from the boy himself. Curious, she pushed her mind forward, into his, only to find herself forced back out. Brow furrowing in concentration, Jean tried again, only to feel similar resistance. 'He must have built a wall up around his mind . . . does he know I'm a telepath? Is he afraid of me?'
*Professor?* Jean silently questioned, her curiosity overruling her caution. *Do they know I'm a telepath?*
*I may have mentioned it once or twice, why? You have nothing to fret, my dear, they won't be frightened.*
*No, it's not that, it's just, well, the other two are projecting thoughts, but there is nothing coming from Scott . . . *
*Ah, yes, well, Scott has been learning to shield his mind from others. He has a fairly traumatic past, he may not be ready to share it with you yet.*
Nodding, Jean cast one more furtive glance to the boy as the group began retreating into the mansion. An aura of mystery surrounded the boy and his appearance alone had aroused countless questions within her. Try as she might – and indeed, try she would – Jean wondered if she could ever possibly learn all the secrets of Scott Summers.
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Rain pattered on the farmhouse roof as lightening flashed in the bedroom window. The fuzzy blue mutant sighed, staring longingly out the window and at the torrential rains. It had been almost as week since he'd last been allowed outside. His adoptive parents had withdrawn him from Ostseite Grundlegend (A/N: I have no clue what school Kurt attended, so I have dubbed it East Side Elementary) and had insisted he remain indoors "until things calmed down." Shortly afterwards, the rains came, confining Kurt in his lonely prison.
How he longed to be outside! To feel the rain beat upon his tired face, to frolic in the mud like a young toddler! Kurt had spent the past eight years growing up on a farm, rarely staying indoors long enough to learn the color of his bedroom walls! Well, he knew his walls now, every crack, every corner, every smudge of smeared paint; he knew it so well he was physically ill from the knowledge.
"Cruel and unusual punishment, zat's vhat zis is," he muttered as lightening flashed again. Crossing to the opposite wall, Kurt gently opened the window, allowing the sounds of the storm to echo within his walls. "Zat's better," he sighed, almost contentedly, as he lay back down on his cozy bed, closing his yes and inhaling the sweet, succulent scent of rain.
'Ah, to be outside,' his mind roamed, tracing over the image of the farm that had imprinted itself in his brain. He could see it all so clearly; the stream rising with the heavy rains, grazing pastures soaking in the much-needed rain, the livestock huddled for warmth in the old barn, the bar itself – shingles flying from the roof as the rain and wind deprived its wooden walls of their faded paint.
As he traveled over the land in his mind's eye, a distinct smell of sulfur wafted in with the sweet rain. Kurt felt himself sink into the deep muddy ground as raindrops pounded his closed lids, causing him to pry his eyes open in astonishment. Gazing around at the open land surrounding him, Kurt shivered in the German rain, but not from the cold, from a secret he could feel rising within him, dying to be revealed.
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The 14-year-old boy fidgeted in his freshly ironed clothes, the starched bandage stiff and uncomforting around his eyes. He didn't understand why he had to look so nice; this girl would be living with them, she'd be lucky to ever catch Scott in a collared, button-down shirt and corduroy pants again. In his opinion, they were giving her the wrong first impression, they were lying to her with their appearances, they may as well lie about their names and past lives while they were at it, just let her think she was at some fancy prep school. Underneath the confining bandage, Scott rolled his eyes with the last thought. He knew he was being cynical, but that was part of his nature, he may change his appearance but he would not change his personality to help east h move of some preppy girl.
Hearing the familiar sound of the Professor's car gently crunching the gravelly driveway, Scott tensed in his chair. 'They're here already?' Hidden under his cool demeanor, the boy began to panic. It had been over eight years since he'd last met a civilized child of his own age, and though he'd spent the last few months behaving in a decorous manner before adults, he was beginning to feel the savage thief rising within him causing him to wonder if he was truly prepared to meet this girl.
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"We're here, little one," Professor Xavier turned in his seat, observing the frightened child. "Do not worry, you have nothing to fear," he motioned out the window as three forms appeared on the mansion's front steps. "It seems as though everyone is anxious to meet you."
Jean nodded, yet she shrunk back in her seat. She did not wish to meet these strange people; she wanted her mother and father.
The professor sighed, "I know it's hard, Jean, and we are not asking you to make up your mind yet. I know you want to be with your family, but let us give this a try, eh? If you don't like it we will certainly drive you home, we would not keep you here against your will."
Nodding, her flaming hair cascaded in ripples down her back. Biting her lip, Jean reluctantly emerged from the car, pausing to take in the sight before her; a tall, dark-skinned woman with sleek snow-white hair stood regally between to men, her glowing smile – warm and welcoming – bestowed itself upon Jean. To her right stood a short, muscular man with hard chiseled features and a wolfish smile. His appearance frightened Jean but he was already projecting thoughts loud enough for Jean to tell that he wasn't all that harsh under his tough exterior. And to the African's left stood, well, you couldn't exactly call him a man nor a boy, but a male that appeared to be around her age, thought Jean could tell he had experienced more than most men would in their lifetimes. Out of the three interesting strangers, the boy intrigued her the most. His dark, shaggy hair hung over a stark-white bandage that appeared to be wrapped around his eyes. He stood in freshly pressed clothes that she was sure were not his own, with a fake smile plastered upon his face as thought it had been painted on by another.
Jean was jarred out of her observant trance by the soothing sound of the professor's voice. "Jean, I would like you to meet the rest of the Institute's occupants. This is Logan," the small man bowed his head as the professor gesticulated in his direction.
"How are ya?" He asked in a politer tone than was usual for him.
"And to his left is Ororo Monroe,"
"Welcome, Jean," the tall woman smiled warmly.
"And lastly, this is Scott Summers."
The boy nodded curtly and quickly uttered a rushed "hello" after inconspicuous prodding by Ororo and a disapproving glance from Logan.
Jean smiled to herself as the boy's cheeks flamed in humiliation. She could tell by the snippets of thoughts filtering through her mind that she was the first girl to cross Scott's path in a great many years, but that was all Logan and Ororo would reveal, no other thoughts about the boy pushed into her mind and she was receiving no thoughts from the boy himself. Curious, she pushed her mind forward, into his, only to find herself forced back out. Brow furrowing in concentration, Jean tried again, only to feel similar resistance. 'He must have built a wall up around his mind . . . does he know I'm a telepath? Is he afraid of me?'
*Professor?* Jean silently questioned, her curiosity overruling her caution. *Do they know I'm a telepath?*
*I may have mentioned it once or twice, why? You have nothing to fret, my dear, they won't be frightened.*
*No, it's not that, it's just, well, the other two are projecting thoughts, but there is nothing coming from Scott . . . *
*Ah, yes, well, Scott has been learning to shield his mind from others. He has a fairly traumatic past, he may not be ready to share it with you yet.*
Nodding, Jean cast one more furtive glance to the boy as the group began retreating into the mansion. An aura of mystery surrounded the boy and his appearance alone had aroused countless questions within her. Try as she might – and indeed, try she would – Jean wondered if she could ever possibly learn all the secrets of Scott Summers.
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