Disclaimer: out of all of this, I own Marianne, Michael, Tank, Nova/Ben,
Gaia/Sarah, Shadow, Connor, Samantha, Jonathan and Ezra. Any new OC's are
mine unless otherwise mentioned. Further more I own the plot. I do not, nor
will I ever own X-Men Evolution, any songs mentioned are not mine either.
This disclaimer applies to the entire story.
A/N: this is the sequel to my fic Just a Girl, read that first or you will be lost, we wouldn't want that, now would we?
Agent-G: no need to wait! Here is the first chapter. Read and find out what's this about.
Silver12: thanks for the review, you have no idea what it means to me when people like what I write! No thanks for finishing the story, it's only logical, ne?
Fighting Destiny – Trouble starts
A young, blond woman looked around the room, across from her sat a red headed, near orange man, a girl of her age with dark green, died hair, a man build like a tank and her boyfriend: Michael. Usually, these conversations were cheerful, full of jokes, but now, even Tank was deadly serious.
"So we're up next?" Marianne asked the group.
"Yes, everyone is going to be evacuated tomorrow. You're sure you're going to stay here with us?" Nova asked her. Normally, he was a walking disaster area, but he was under pressure now, and that brought the best out in him.
"Yes, whatever that is going to happen, you guys are going to need a doctor, and if it isn't stopped here, whatever will happen, I don't think any of us would be save anywhere," Marianne nodded. They had had this discussion already.
The precogs who had aligned themselves with Underground had recieved visions about something terrible happening, no one knew what, but it apparently was bad enough for Underground to pull everyone out of the USA, at least. It would start there. Not everyone wanted to leave, though, and Marianne was, sort of, proud to say her friends didn't want to either.
It would be strange, Marianne figured, so many rooms would be empty, no more kids to keep her from running tests on any subject she could think of, on one side, that would be a good thing, on the other side, it would get boring. As far as it could get boring when you were preparing for a serious threat of which you knew nothing.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I have a patient in the hospital wing on who I really should check up," Marianne rose from her seat and left the conference-room. She hated being in that room, perhaps that was what made them joke around in there so much. But regardless, being in that room meant there was trouble, for them or for someone else.
She returned to the hospital, slightly surprised that she wasn't ambushed by someone, but then again: they were all probably packing and the children were having their lessons. A couple of adults had taken it upon themselves to start a temporary school. Marianne, Michael, Tank, Sarah and Ben thought it was a great idea.
She looked at the man who was still out cold. He had mid long, brown hair, he looked pretty battered, he had several bruised and cracked ribs, it looked like he had recieved quite the beating, she was amazed he had no broken bones.
"You must have a pretty thick skull, mister, I'm surprised those haters didn't kill you," Marianne muttered as she took his vitals once again. Haters, that was what they called those who were FOH, or those who sympathised with FOH. He was still out cold, they didn't know his name, all they knew he was a mutant and had obviously gotten into more trouble then he could handle.
It appeared he was still unconcious, so Marianne turned to her phone. It was time to give the X-Men a call, and see if they had picked up on Underground's current buzz of frantic activity, which they most likely hadn't, as she was the one who kept them posted on things.
"Xavier's Institute for the... KURT! Give that back here!" Kitty picked up the phone.
"My my, should I come over and drill some discipline into the boy?" Marianne chuckled
"Marianne!" Kitty forgot all about Kurt when she heard Marianne on the other side.
"Can you patch me through to the professor, it's kinda important," Marianne smiled at the happyness she heard in Kitty's voice. She had no regrets for leaving the X-Men and joining Mutant Underground, even though life was harder like this. She missed her friends at the mansion, but she was often too busy to stop and think about it all.
"Marianne, Kitty told me you had something important?" she heard Xavier's voice, laced with a hint of worry.
"Yeah, it's kinda like this: the precogs of Underground picked up on something bad that is going to happen here in the USA. We're evacuating our people, our safehouse is up tomorrow. I wanted to give you a heads up, perhaps you should get the young kids out of the country," no matter how grave the situation was, Marianne enjoyed talking with her mentor.
"Thank you, I will discuss this. I take you and your friends are staying?" she could almost see a smile form on his face when she replied.
"Ofcourse, if, whatever it is, is going to be stopped, we should do it where it starts. The guys in charge of Underground don't agree, though, but they all know that if we don't wanna move, we ain't gonna," she thought back to the argument she and Michael had had with the Underground leaders.
"O, what did they say?" Marianne cursed inwardly: he knew how to read people even if he only heard their voice!
"They said that we can't fight destiny, that if we stay, we write our own death. Well, even if we can't fight destiny, we can still try, right?"
"I will talk this over with the X-Men, can you get in touch with us tomorrow?"
"Ofcourse, bye professor," they said their goodbyes and Marianne hung up.
She couldn't help but think that the X-Men were protected from the harsh reality, yes, they went out to protect mutants, yes they saw the labs. But here, in the safehouses, they patched up the damages, or at least tried. Physical and mental, sometimes, the battle to help a mutant reclaim some portion of sanity was harsh, brutal, unsuccesful. They had to live with that, the X-Men saved them, yes, but did they see the results of the hardships inflicted upon those they saved on the long term? Over the past year, Marianne had, and it had made her grow up quickly.
"Mommy! Mommy!" a young girl, hardly older then four years came running into the hospital wing.
"Well, aren't you supposed to help the grown-ups with packing? And stay with David?" Marianne turned her chair around to see the young girl who looked up at her expectantly, she had been brought in a couple of months ago, no one knew the girl's real name, as the girl had called herself stubbornly C.
"I don't wanna go," C whined while climbing into Marianne's lap.
"C, we've been over this. You have to go. I can't go. Something is going to happen and when it happens, I have to help Michael and I can only help him when I know all my children are somewhere safe. I couldn't work if I don't know if you're safe," Marianne sighed. The children were stubborn, they didn't want to leave 'mom' or 'dad'.
It still amazed Marianne how easily everyone had picked up on that nickname for her and Michael. Well, who could blame them? Michael certainly acted like a strict 'dad' over the refugees, and she, well, unless you got on her bad side, was the one you went to with problems. The children had the firm believe 'mom' could fix everything. O, how she wished that were the truth, but the only thing she could do for them was at least try and live up to their expectations.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a groaning sound coming from the bed, instantly, Marianne ushered C out of her lap and rushed to the man's bed side.
"C. Go tell Michael that the man in the hospital is waking up, can you do that for me? It's very important," she asked the girl with a tone as if she entrusted the child with the faith of the world. C nodded, pride and excitement filling her eyes: she was trusted with something this important! As the little girl scurried out of the hospital wing, Marianne turned to the man.
"Sir, can you hear me?" she asked, while preparing a 'knock-out illusion' as a safety precausion. She only got another groan. She tried again.
"Merde, y' got de license o' dat truck?" he groaned in a French accent.
"I'm afraid it was not a truck, sir, but a couple of mutant haters. Don't worry, you're safe here," a smile broke through her tense face.
"Ugh, Remy have a headache, de size o' dat truck," the man groaned again.
"I told you, there was no truck," Marianne grinned: he knew his name, that was a good sign.
"Yo' sure? An' what would be de belle femme's name?" he focused on the doctor by his bedside.
"I'm Marianne Jong, and not a 'belle femme'," Marianne's grin disappeared as quickly as it appeared: great, a charmer. He probably thought she didn't even understand French.
"Have yo' seen a mirror? Tu est une belle femme*, I be Remy LeBeau. What? It true!" he cried as he saw her sceptic look.
"Sure, mister LeBeau. Now, you were brought in with a minor concussion, some cracked ribs, scrapes, cuts and bruises. As far as I can tell, you were very lucky. Though I would rather have you keep bedrest, we are evacuating first thing tomorrow. As far as I see your options, you can leave on your own," which she preferred, "go with the others or stay here and help us face of whatever bad things that are about to happen," the latter would also be grately appreciated, she knew Michael was having serious doubts about their numbers and ability to fight of what ever threat.
"Dere trouble? Remy be no gentleman if he leave such a belle femme t' face it on 'r own, non?" he propped himself up on her shoulders and Marianne got the distinct feeling he was trying to flirt with her. She found that his eyes were fascinating, red on black.
"Well, then I hope you survive Michael, he's in charge of this place. And would ya stop calling me a 'belle femme'? You'll be making an enemy out of Michael," not matter how fascinating his eyes were, or how good looking he was, his personality began to irritate her more and more by the minute.
"What be dis 'Michael' t' y', petite?" he asked with curiousity.
"This 'Michael' would be her boyfriend, for the past three years or so," came Michael's amused voice from the doorway.
*Tu est une belle femme= you are a beautifull woman.
I happen to have French, I don't like it, but it's no-choice...
A/N: this is the sequel to my fic Just a Girl, read that first or you will be lost, we wouldn't want that, now would we?
Agent-G: no need to wait! Here is the first chapter. Read and find out what's this about.
Silver12: thanks for the review, you have no idea what it means to me when people like what I write! No thanks for finishing the story, it's only logical, ne?
Fighting Destiny – Trouble starts
A young, blond woman looked around the room, across from her sat a red headed, near orange man, a girl of her age with dark green, died hair, a man build like a tank and her boyfriend: Michael. Usually, these conversations were cheerful, full of jokes, but now, even Tank was deadly serious.
"So we're up next?" Marianne asked the group.
"Yes, everyone is going to be evacuated tomorrow. You're sure you're going to stay here with us?" Nova asked her. Normally, he was a walking disaster area, but he was under pressure now, and that brought the best out in him.
"Yes, whatever that is going to happen, you guys are going to need a doctor, and if it isn't stopped here, whatever will happen, I don't think any of us would be save anywhere," Marianne nodded. They had had this discussion already.
The precogs who had aligned themselves with Underground had recieved visions about something terrible happening, no one knew what, but it apparently was bad enough for Underground to pull everyone out of the USA, at least. It would start there. Not everyone wanted to leave, though, and Marianne was, sort of, proud to say her friends didn't want to either.
It would be strange, Marianne figured, so many rooms would be empty, no more kids to keep her from running tests on any subject she could think of, on one side, that would be a good thing, on the other side, it would get boring. As far as it could get boring when you were preparing for a serious threat of which you knew nothing.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I have a patient in the hospital wing on who I really should check up," Marianne rose from her seat and left the conference-room. She hated being in that room, perhaps that was what made them joke around in there so much. But regardless, being in that room meant there was trouble, for them or for someone else.
She returned to the hospital, slightly surprised that she wasn't ambushed by someone, but then again: they were all probably packing and the children were having their lessons. A couple of adults had taken it upon themselves to start a temporary school. Marianne, Michael, Tank, Sarah and Ben thought it was a great idea.
She looked at the man who was still out cold. He had mid long, brown hair, he looked pretty battered, he had several bruised and cracked ribs, it looked like he had recieved quite the beating, she was amazed he had no broken bones.
"You must have a pretty thick skull, mister, I'm surprised those haters didn't kill you," Marianne muttered as she took his vitals once again. Haters, that was what they called those who were FOH, or those who sympathised with FOH. He was still out cold, they didn't know his name, all they knew he was a mutant and had obviously gotten into more trouble then he could handle.
It appeared he was still unconcious, so Marianne turned to her phone. It was time to give the X-Men a call, and see if they had picked up on Underground's current buzz of frantic activity, which they most likely hadn't, as she was the one who kept them posted on things.
"Xavier's Institute for the... KURT! Give that back here!" Kitty picked up the phone.
"My my, should I come over and drill some discipline into the boy?" Marianne chuckled
"Marianne!" Kitty forgot all about Kurt when she heard Marianne on the other side.
"Can you patch me through to the professor, it's kinda important," Marianne smiled at the happyness she heard in Kitty's voice. She had no regrets for leaving the X-Men and joining Mutant Underground, even though life was harder like this. She missed her friends at the mansion, but she was often too busy to stop and think about it all.
"Marianne, Kitty told me you had something important?" she heard Xavier's voice, laced with a hint of worry.
"Yeah, it's kinda like this: the precogs of Underground picked up on something bad that is going to happen here in the USA. We're evacuating our people, our safehouse is up tomorrow. I wanted to give you a heads up, perhaps you should get the young kids out of the country," no matter how grave the situation was, Marianne enjoyed talking with her mentor.
"Thank you, I will discuss this. I take you and your friends are staying?" she could almost see a smile form on his face when she replied.
"Ofcourse, if, whatever it is, is going to be stopped, we should do it where it starts. The guys in charge of Underground don't agree, though, but they all know that if we don't wanna move, we ain't gonna," she thought back to the argument she and Michael had had with the Underground leaders.
"O, what did they say?" Marianne cursed inwardly: he knew how to read people even if he only heard their voice!
"They said that we can't fight destiny, that if we stay, we write our own death. Well, even if we can't fight destiny, we can still try, right?"
"I will talk this over with the X-Men, can you get in touch with us tomorrow?"
"Ofcourse, bye professor," they said their goodbyes and Marianne hung up.
She couldn't help but think that the X-Men were protected from the harsh reality, yes, they went out to protect mutants, yes they saw the labs. But here, in the safehouses, they patched up the damages, or at least tried. Physical and mental, sometimes, the battle to help a mutant reclaim some portion of sanity was harsh, brutal, unsuccesful. They had to live with that, the X-Men saved them, yes, but did they see the results of the hardships inflicted upon those they saved on the long term? Over the past year, Marianne had, and it had made her grow up quickly.
"Mommy! Mommy!" a young girl, hardly older then four years came running into the hospital wing.
"Well, aren't you supposed to help the grown-ups with packing? And stay with David?" Marianne turned her chair around to see the young girl who looked up at her expectantly, she had been brought in a couple of months ago, no one knew the girl's real name, as the girl had called herself stubbornly C.
"I don't wanna go," C whined while climbing into Marianne's lap.
"C, we've been over this. You have to go. I can't go. Something is going to happen and when it happens, I have to help Michael and I can only help him when I know all my children are somewhere safe. I couldn't work if I don't know if you're safe," Marianne sighed. The children were stubborn, they didn't want to leave 'mom' or 'dad'.
It still amazed Marianne how easily everyone had picked up on that nickname for her and Michael. Well, who could blame them? Michael certainly acted like a strict 'dad' over the refugees, and she, well, unless you got on her bad side, was the one you went to with problems. The children had the firm believe 'mom' could fix everything. O, how she wished that were the truth, but the only thing she could do for them was at least try and live up to their expectations.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a groaning sound coming from the bed, instantly, Marianne ushered C out of her lap and rushed to the man's bed side.
"C. Go tell Michael that the man in the hospital is waking up, can you do that for me? It's very important," she asked the girl with a tone as if she entrusted the child with the faith of the world. C nodded, pride and excitement filling her eyes: she was trusted with something this important! As the little girl scurried out of the hospital wing, Marianne turned to the man.
"Sir, can you hear me?" she asked, while preparing a 'knock-out illusion' as a safety precausion. She only got another groan. She tried again.
"Merde, y' got de license o' dat truck?" he groaned in a French accent.
"I'm afraid it was not a truck, sir, but a couple of mutant haters. Don't worry, you're safe here," a smile broke through her tense face.
"Ugh, Remy have a headache, de size o' dat truck," the man groaned again.
"I told you, there was no truck," Marianne grinned: he knew his name, that was a good sign.
"Yo' sure? An' what would be de belle femme's name?" he focused on the doctor by his bedside.
"I'm Marianne Jong, and not a 'belle femme'," Marianne's grin disappeared as quickly as it appeared: great, a charmer. He probably thought she didn't even understand French.
"Have yo' seen a mirror? Tu est une belle femme*, I be Remy LeBeau. What? It true!" he cried as he saw her sceptic look.
"Sure, mister LeBeau. Now, you were brought in with a minor concussion, some cracked ribs, scrapes, cuts and bruises. As far as I can tell, you were very lucky. Though I would rather have you keep bedrest, we are evacuating first thing tomorrow. As far as I see your options, you can leave on your own," which she preferred, "go with the others or stay here and help us face of whatever bad things that are about to happen," the latter would also be grately appreciated, she knew Michael was having serious doubts about their numbers and ability to fight of what ever threat.
"Dere trouble? Remy be no gentleman if he leave such a belle femme t' face it on 'r own, non?" he propped himself up on her shoulders and Marianne got the distinct feeling he was trying to flirt with her. She found that his eyes were fascinating, red on black.
"Well, then I hope you survive Michael, he's in charge of this place. And would ya stop calling me a 'belle femme'? You'll be making an enemy out of Michael," not matter how fascinating his eyes were, or how good looking he was, his personality began to irritate her more and more by the minute.
"What be dis 'Michael' t' y', petite?" he asked with curiousity.
"This 'Michael' would be her boyfriend, for the past three years or so," came Michael's amused voice from the doorway.
*Tu est une belle femme= you are a beautifull woman.
I happen to have French, I don't like it, but it's no-choice...