Author's Note: I've updated this post, but it's still incomplete. i'm posting it with the full knowledge that it's incomplete and I am imparting that knowledge to you. Three of my X-men friends have looked this over and, so far, this is what I've come up with. Any ruination is still on my head. You have been warned.
Three on Three
vashti
The young students passed looks among themselves as Professor Xavier paused mid-sentence. They knew he was "hearing" something from the way he cocked his head to one side, looking at nothing they could see.
"P-Professor…"
He shook himself out of whatever had caught his usually focused attention. "Yes, Amelie?"
"Is everything all right?" Her voice quavered with fear. Of the youngsters in the room, Amelie had been at Xavier's School for the Gifted the longest. Perhaps that explained the worry she so obviously felt.
"Yes, Amelie," he said with infinite kindness. "It's just the mind of another mutant inadvertently brushing mine. You may sit down."
Eyes over-wide, another student asked, "Is it a good mutant or a bad mutant?"
The Professor smiled. "Neither. She just…is, as are most people, mutant or otherwise. Now, since you've asked Brandon, perhaps you can tell me what we were talking about before I interrupted you so dreadfully." And so the class continued, blissfully unaware of the exchange between Professor X and his protégé Jean Grey.
You're sure she's searching for us, Professor?
Not searching for the X-Men, per se, Jean, but desperately looking for help. I believe it was her desperate need rather than the strength of her powers that has caused her to touch our minds…and likely the minds of other telepaths.
Shall I tell Scott to assemble the team, Professor?
There was a pause in the mental exchange before Professor Xavier agreed. But take only a skeleton crew. I get the impression there is more to our unnamed friend than meets the mental eye.
So not Beast, came the thought with an accompanying mental smile.
Not until we understand her and her situation, and she ours.
Yes Professor.
"Well if we're leaving Hank we might as well leave Logan behind too," Scott said jocularly.
"Watch it, bub," Logan growled.
Hank put a large furry hand on Logan's shoulder. "Do not be distraught, my friend. Despite the levity of Scott's remark it is true that a man who considers using adamantium claws as part and parcel of hand to hand combat may be found disconcerting to a young mutant in distress."
Logan looked at him blankly.
"She may get freaked out, Logan," Jean said.
"Knew what he said, Jeannie, just can't see how it matters. What'll ya do if she turns out ta be somethin' more like the Professor thinks," he said to Scott.
"Jean, Rogue and myself should be fine," Scott said.
Logan shrugged. "Too bad, cause I'm still goin' with ya."
Scott started to argue.
Jean put a hand on his shoulder. "It can't hurt."
Keeping his thoughts to himself, Scott let it go boarding behind his wife.
Three hours later, when they had finally subdued the young mutant, Cyclops was indeed happy that he'd allowed Wolverine to join them. The girl had claws of her own, and a nasty-quick way of using them. She could take a good beating too, but that seemed to be a fairly common mutant talent. Rogue was still glowering at the girl, however. She'd dared to punch the redhead back. After the redhead had knocked her into a wall. Finally, while Wolverine distracted her in claw to claw combat -- Cyclops had noted that hers seemed to be natural rather than metallic like Wolverine's or Yuriko's -- Jean had managed to bring the girl to her knees. By telekinetically bending back her claws.
"Them your own?" Cyclops heard Wolverine ask the girl in the back. He'd been set to watch her.
"Maybe. Ain't yours?"
Cyclops heard the unmistakable snikt of something, Wolverine's claws, being unsheathed. "Mostly." He also heard humor in his comrade-in-arms' voice. "Yours are nice. For a girl."
She snorted. "Wait 'til you see my sister." There was silence for a long moment and then for the only God knew how many-eth time: "My sister will save me."
Wolverine chuckled darkly. "Ain't no need to be rescued, half-pint."
Cyclops could almost hear the girl go spitting mad but, and he had to hand it to her, she kept her cool.
For Wolverine's part, he recognized the subtle muscle tightening that prefaced releasing his own adamantium laced claws. He could just bet she was itching to let them loose again. "It hurts, don't it?"
"I've taken worse beatings."
While he filed that bit of information away… "Ain't what I'm talkin' about." His chin jutted toward her hands, forcibly crossed on her lap. Loosing her claws would not only entail the incredible pain of piercing her own flesh, but would likely open the major arteries running along the inside of her thighs. "Betcha wanna gut us all," he said softly so their fearless leader wouldn't hear. He respected the girl.
The lines of anger and worry crossing her face relaxed. It made her look younger. "I don't want to kill you all. I just want ta be let go."
"So you can find your sister."
She shook her head slowly, as if the statement were highly amusing and any faster motion would make burst forth in a peal of giggles. "So I c'n find my brother. Cara'll find me fine on'er own." She turned away from Wolverine, looking out the windows of the Blackbird. "Always does."
I ain't where I was.
Who in heaven have you been hanging around?
Mental shrug. Dunno who they are. Callin' themselves the X-Men. Ya heard of'em?
Sure. They're okay. The Master was never fond of them. Don't tell me you got into a fight with those guys.
……
You didn't!
I ain't know!
I thought I was the predisposed cat-fighter. How am I supposed to find you now? You know my telepathy isn't as good as yours.
I got faith in ya, Cara. Ya ain't never let me down before.
Mental shudder. I'll find you. If only to get you away from whomever it is you've assimilated this time.
…I miss ya, Cara. …An' I'm scared.
We both are. Don't worry…we'll find him. You just send out another tele-beacon and I'll scent you out.
Smile. See ya soon, Cara.
Ditto.
Justifiably wary with their suddenly quiescent prisoner, Cyclops insisted that she remain restrained. "Just in case."
"She ain't a threat ta us anymore, One-Eye."
Cyclops bristled at the familiar nickname but kept his ire to himself. "I'd rather be safe than sorry."
For her part, their prisoner didn't seem to exactly mind. She didn't even seem to need Wolverine's steadying hand as they descended the steps of the Blackbird: the feline grace with which she'd dodged a good many of their blows and inflicted her own helping her keep her balance.
"Ain't ya gonna blindfold me?"
Rogue snorted. "She's startin' ta sound like ya, Wolverine."
He shrugged. As did the girl.
Rogue snickered.
"Ain't like I did it on purpose," she muttered as she was led from the hanger deeper into the bowels of their headquarters. An expression of sullen acceptance on her face, she followed them, ignoring the wonders of the cold metallic corridors as if she saw them everyday.
She gasped.
Wolverine came up behind her shoulder. "Ya alright, darlin'?" Something about her reminded him of Jubilee. Which probably explained the wave of protectiveness he felt for her.
"Ain't sure. Ya got telepaths in this place?"
"I'm a telepath," the slim redhead who had nearly ripped her claws from her hands said, turning her head.
"You in my head then, Red?"
Jean was startled by how much this new mutant sounded like Logan. She was almost positive that the girl's speech patterns had been completely unique when they'd first encountered her. Of course there hadn't been a terrible lot of talking. Not physical talking at least. "No, I'm not. It must be the Professor."
"An' who's that? An' what's he doin' in my head?" All she missed was the belligerence the same situation would have elicited from Wolverine.
"We shall have to ask him," Jean said before turning away, already questioning the Professor telepathically. Have you touched her mind, Professor?
Yes Jean. It's quite fascinating. She can feel me, but apparently not much else. Which seems odd after the telepathy you witnessed.
I agree. Please, Professor, when we meet you could you pay close attention to her speech?
Her speech, Jean?
Yes. I can't be sure, but I think the girl has begun to mimic Logan's way of speaking. I don't know if it's to ingratiate herself with him or…
Or if it is part of her powers.
Jean could almost see her mentor nod sagely.
I quite understand Jean. Of course I believe Logan has been duly impressed with her fighting and does not need mimicry to do the job.
Jean smiled to herself.
Catching the gesture from the corner of his eyes, Cyclops asked, "Everything okay?"
Her smile broadened to include her husband. "So far."
"This where ya takin' me?" the young mutant asked.
"Yup," was Wolverine's elegant reply.
A chuckle bubbled up from deep within her throat. It even gave Wolverine momentary pause. Then the doors slid open to reveal an elegant, bald man in a three-piece suit and the fanciest wheelchair she'd ever seen.
"Do come in," he said, as they crowded inside.
She heard the doors swish closed behind her.
"I don't believe we've received the pleasure of knowing your name."
But she had finally shaken off her grumpy nonchalance. The large room with its walls of maps like out of some war movie, the control panels and screens…so many screens. She opened her mouth to breath. Big as this room turned out to be, it felt incredibly small. Made her feel small.
"Scott, please remove her restraints," the Professor said quietly as he monitored her easily read emotions. Even Logan had zeroed in on her as his hypersensitive senses picked up physical response to it all.
Scott moved to obey. She hardly seemed to notice -- only rubbing her wrists vaguely. It was the Master's room all over again. All it needed was the big observation window over by the left, set high, high above where he made them train. And run. And fight. Be his circus cats. His lab animals.
"She ain't lookin' so good, Prof," Logan said in rumbling warning.
So little room to breath in here with all these people. God it looked like the Master's office…
"I quite agree. Shall we go upstairs to my office."
Again she didn't seem to hear them. Rogue, who knew all too well how memory could engulf you without warning, took pity on the young mutant. "C'mon, sugah. We're gonna go someplace a mite nicer'n this'un," she said, taking the girl's arm and steering her back out the way they had come. "Although this ain't too bad once ya get used to it," she added conversationally.
"Huh?"
"We're goin' ta Professah Xavier's office, sugah." She still had the girl by the arm.
Who looked down at the chair-bound gentleman. "Is that you?"
"Yes, dear. I am Professor Charles Xavier."
"Was that you pokin' around in m'head?"
His smile was reassuring as the little party stopped in front of the elevator that would lead them into the mansion proper. "I was not, as you say, 'poking around' but merely scanning your surface thoughts."
"I felt ya. It was like a han' touchin' m'mind."
His smile faltered imperceptibly.
Did you hear that Professor?
Yes, her voice is losing some of Logan's quality but seemingly in favor of Rogue's.
What does it mean Professor?
We shall see, Jean.
Within moments they were ensconced in Professor's Xavier's office. Quite unlike the war-room they had just left, Xavier's office was a thing of warm wood and bright daylight. The girl lost the hard look she had worn on their march through the mansion's tunnels. Slipping her arm from Rogue's she went to the window. Both Scott and Rogue started toward her, but a wave of the Professor's hand stopped them.
The girl turned away from the window. "Y'know my sister says ya ain't half bad. She says pickin' a fight with ya was one a the stupidest things I've ever done."
"You've certainly won the respect of the X-Men."
The smile that slipped from her mouth was downright feral. "You'd a never been able ta take all'a us."
"All of you?" Professor Xavier inquired, still carrying on his mental conversation with Jean. They had noticed her reversion to many of Logan's habits as soon she had left Rogue's immediate presence. Even that, however, seemed to be changing.
The girl's face clouded. "There's three a us."
"Ya got two sisters out there like you, sugah?" from Rogue.
The girl shook her head. "Sister an' a brother. An' we're nothin' like each other. Cara's more like him," she said pointing with her chin to Logan. "Guess Tarsus is like you, Prof."
"A telepath?"
Her expression darkened further. "Psychic vampire."
There was a moment of stillness as the group took in her admission. "And what about you? We don't even know your name."
"Sorry 'bout that. Habit. It's Ashlyn. Guess I'm a cross 'tween the two of'em. Makes sense bein' the middle an' all." She sat on the window seat.
Professor Xavier cocked his head to one side. "There's something you're not telling us."
"Didn't even feel ya this time, Prof--"
"That's Professor to you, young lady," Scott broke in. Something about the girl prickled on an instinctive level.
"It's quite all right Scott. I don't mind." He turned to Ashlyn. "You were saying?"
"Right…'bout my family…" She unthinkingly released her claws and scratched the back of her neck. "We're triplets."
"Identical?" Jean asked, curiosity soaring.
"As identical as fraternal trips can get. There ain't no denyin' the family resemblance." Ashlyn felt itchy in her own skin. A distinctive urge to rub up against something rough, as if she were trying to slough off her skin, came over her. Cara, where are you?
She is on her way, my dear.
Ashlyn looked up so fast stars danced across the vision. "You heard me," she accused.
Scott spoke up for the Professor. "Professor Xavier is the most powerful telepath on Earth.
"Ain't no one asked your opinion, One-Eye."
Scott bristled visibly. All but forgotten in the sole dark corner of the office, Logan chuckled throatily.
"Ashlyn!" Professor Xavier, sharply. "That was uncalled for."
She managed to look contrite. "I'm sorry. But he ain't exactly been peaches and cream since we ran into each other, if y'know what I mean."
Which did nothing to diffuse Cyclops' sudden anger. "We didn't start the fight."
"Ya didn't exactly stop it either, did ya?" Ashlyn demanded, jumping to her feet.
"Had you listened--"
"Me. I didn't see you do much more'n order everybody around--"
"You came at us--"
"Scott! Ashlyn!" The Professor called over their escalating voices as they began to circle each other to no avail. He was loath to use his abilities to stop them -- and more than a little chagrined with his pupil for falling to so simple a stab at his pride -- but it seemed they would give them little choice. If his and Jean's guess was right, it wouldn't take much more for the girl to let her fists and claws do the talking for her.
The door to the office opened. Hank McCoy poked his head in. "Professor, I thought I heard--" He caught sight of Cyclops and an unknown mutant circling in hot debate. "Oh my." He slipped into the room and into the dark corner with Logan.
"Yer just in time, Hank."
"So I see. I had thought I'd heard voices raised in anger and had come to see what might the matter be. And why are Scott and the rescued mutant -- I perforce assume that this is the young mutant whom the Professor sent you to save?"
Logan grinned wolfishly. "She wasn't exactly needin' savin'. Though it's startin' ta look like Slim over there might." He took a deeper breath confirming what his senses had already told him. This girl was ready to put up or shut up.
"Oh dear," Hank said, agreeing in his way. Although less vocal about them, he too had superior senses. Not that he needed them standing next to Logan who was like a human compass in the face of hidden, or in their case not so hidden, emotion.
Logan knew a second before it happened that the girl was going to loose her claws. The others weren't so lucky. They were used to the characteristic snikt of his own adamantium laced ones, or the claw-tipped fingers of mutants like Sabretooth that needed no freeing. "Hold it there, Ash," he said, coming out of the shadows, holding up his hands in an as non-threatening gesture as possible.
Henry followed him. "Yes, do still your anger."
Hands half curled -- the better to use claws that extended from fingertips -- and ready to slash at Cyclops, Ashlyn stopped at their voices as if brought out of her mania.
Logan knew the truth. Hank had scared her stupid. He swore.
Hank turned toward him. "Is something the matter."
"Yeah, she ain't never seen a blue-furred monster that wore glasses an' a lab coat," he said in a rush, under his breath. "No offense."
"I see. And none taken. My dear girl," Hank said, turning his attention to Ashlyn, "there is no reason to fear. My mutation simply manifests most strongly in the physical. As you can see," he began to take slow steps forward, "I am completely…"
Professor Xavier who had been monitoring the entire affair, ready to pull his student and his newest foundling apart by force if necessary, read the utter terror that raced through her mind. If the experience down in the war-room had been a fog of memory than seeing Beast was an absolute tempest. "Hank, no!"
But too late, the great blue-furred apelike genius had already begun to move.
Will no one listen to me today? the Professor wondered to himself.
Ashlyn bolted away from Hank. Where once she had been engaged in a dance of anger with Scott -- who was as far now from being angry as he had been, moments ago, from listening to reason -- she now danced with Hank looking for a way out.
Professor, she doesn't even know we're here, Jean mind-spoke Xavier.
She is deep in the folds of memory, Jean, and unfortunately Hank's natural tendency to prove that he is not what he seems only serves to make it worse. She does not see him. The Professor transmitted the fragmented images Ashlyn's mind was broadcasting to his protégé. We won't be able to help her until we break her out of this trance of memory.
Jean nodded minutely. Yes Professor.
But it quickly became obvious that they were moving too slowly. Just as Scott and Ashlyn's fight had quickly spiraled out of control for no obvious reason, Ashlyn had maneuvered herself around the stunned and immobile X-Men and was working herself toward the door.
"Rogue!" the Professor called.
She shook herself out of her stupor. "Right."
"I promise you, my dear," Hank continued, advancing on Ashlyn, "that I do not present a deleterious effect on your person," trying to reassure her.
Unnoticed by all, Gambit came stumbling drunkenly into their midst, leaning heavily on the door. "Wha's dis? Dere be a party wit'out Gambit?" Only Wolverine still in his corner, unsure what to do, heard him.
Certainly not Ashlyn who had inadvertently opened her mind in an unconscious attempt to send out a distress call to her sister, as she continued to backpedal. Between the shock of blue-furred Beast, and the sudden inundation of so many mental flavors, Ashlyn hardly knew what was going on around her. Or who she running into.
"Watch it chere!" Gambit warned her, coming into sobriety.
But Ashlyn didn't hear-- "Oomph!"
Gambit's arms were instantly around her, as his instinct to remain upright kicked in. And failed.
They landed heavily on the floor, Gambit acting as the girl's cushion. He swore roundly in French.
Something long, hard and bottle-shaped jabbed Ashlyn in the middle of her back. Pushing off Gambit she too swore. In French.
A look passed between Jean and the Professor. Logan stared at the girl hard.
Flushing under his blue fur, Beast said, "You seem to be quite fluent in the Gallic tongue."
"Dat ain't the only language dis femme be knowin'," she said smartly. Her mouth fell open. "What be…"
"Chere is French?" Gambit didn't like the sudden quiet.
She shook her head slowly. "Non."
Moving for the first time since the entire long incident began, Wolverine took a long dramatic sniff of the air. "Somethin' don't smell right."
"Logan," the Professor said with an air of warning.
"She ain't smelled right since we got her." He took a menacing step out of his corner, half in and half out of the shadows. "Whatcha hidin' kid?"
Ashlyn took a step back toward Gambit. "Dis ain't what it seem, mon ami."
"You wasn't spoutin' no French when we first found ya." It didn't take a psi mutation to feel Logan's anger blaze hot and high, but those with it felt it most keenly.
"Ain't mean ta do…" she said trying defend herself, and inadvertently slipping into Logan's speech patterns.
They all noticed. Sound erupted in the suddenly small office.
Professor this is quickly spinning out of control!
I know, Jean. Emotions were running high, and Professor Xavier wasn't sure how to calm his pupils. Every moment only seemed to exacerbate a seemingly groundless situation.
And Ashlyn was trying to clutch Remy -- who was all but charging her clothes trying to get her off -- and her head at the same time. In the end it was her head that won.
Clutching it she cried, "CARA!!" Everyone was shocked mute by her cry, but only Professor X and Jean Gray heard the telepathic please…help me before she dropped to her knees.
"What's wrong with her, Professor," Scott demanded.
Eyes narrowed, Wolverine said, "She don't smell right."
"Yeah, well you keep saying that, but I don't see you doing anything about."
"Ya know what, bub--"
"Scott! Logan! Both of you!" Jean barked at them.
Professor Xavier had hovered to the all but forgotten Ashlyn, kneeling and moaning on the floor as she continued to clutch her head. He probed her mental shields only to find the flimsy things in tatters. Ashlyn
Please, please not another one.
Another what? Ashlyn, I'm here to help--
Just be quiet please… Even in her mind she was curled in on herself. I can't separate you.
Separate who? But then he heard them. The voices of his X-Men, like tapes, playing themselves over and over in her. Most strongly were Logan and Remy, as well as an intense attraction for the Cajun, but every other X-Man in the room sounded in Ashlyn's mind. And even through this he could hear them talking still -- Jean yelling at Logan and Scott, Hank offering profuse apology, Rogue filling Remy in on all that had happened. As he concentrated, ignoring Ashlyn's pleas for the voices to quiet, he realized that although conversation ebbed and flowed around them, the sounds never stopped. They continued to compile, adding themselves to themselves until Professor Xavier more than understood Ashlyn's plea.
I didn't know.
His mental voice joined a track he hadn't realized was in her mind. The track of his voice in her head.
I didn't knowI didn't knowI didn't knowI didn't knowI didn't know…
I'm so sorry Ashlyn. Then he did for her what she couldn't do for herself. He erected a mental shield around her mind. Rest now, was the last voice she heard.
Blinking owlishly at the Professor, Ashlyn slowly lowered her hands from her head. She stared at him, cocking her head to one side as if she'd never seen him before. "Thank you."
She collapsed.
"Hank, please take our guest down to the infirmary," Professor Xavier said. As the blue-furred scientist did so, picking her up as gently as possible, the Professor turned to the rest of his X-Men. "As for the rest of you, I don't know what just happened here, but I expect we'll know better when Ashlyn wakes up. Scott, I want you to post someone at the front gate to greet her sister Cara. After that last telepathic wave I suspect we shall be meeting her quite shortly."
Shoulders low in contrition, Scott murmured a "Yes, sir," before sliding out of the room.
"Remy, you are dismissed until properly sober."
"But--"
"Thank you, Remy, that will be all."
Grumbling something about the injustice of it all, he too slipped out the room.
"Rogue, you may go with him. Please inform Storm, and whomever else you deem appropriate, about what has transpired."
"Sure thing, Professuh."
"And Logan…"
Eyes still narrow and hands itching for a fight, Logan growled, "I know what I smelled."
"As far as I can tell your senses are, as usual, right on. I would like you to stay with the girl until she wakes--"
"I got better things to do than babysit a liar."
"Be that as it may, I need you with her. You are, if nothing else, a familiar presence. And I think an intimidating one if the need should arise."
Logan's claws slipped free. He pulled them back in. "All right, Prof, but this don't mean I like it. Or her."
Professor Xavier's smile was wan. "Of course not. Nor any of us."
A faint growl marked Logan's leaving.
"Do you think that was wise, Professor?" Jean asked, the only X-Man left in the room.
"Loath as he may be to admit it, Logan feels a true affection for the girl. He wouldn't not have reacted so strongly to her changing personality if he did not."
She began to pick up after her comrades. Professor Xavier's office was a mess. "And what did he mean by she smelled different?"
A look of consternation crossed Xavier's face. "I'm not sure what it meant exactly to Logan. He's never been able, or willing, to explain how scents relay to him. I know what I…felt in Ashlyn's mind." He shook his head. "What I felt was the presence of other minds. Our minds. What that means…I'm not sure I can know unless Ashlyn tells us herself." Eyes coming back into focus, Professor Xavier seemed to notice what Jean was doing for the first time. "Leave that, Jean, someone else will take care of it. I want to use Cerebro to try and locate our young charge's siblings. Cara and…"
"I believe she said her brother's name was Tarsus."
"Yes. She called him a psychic vampire. We must find out if he is anything like Selene."
"But they seem to be very young, Professor."
"And how many adolescent mutants have we met with nearly uncontrollable abilities." He let out a slow breath. "However, I see your point: Selene is almost immeasurably old. Tarsus may have power equal to hers but doubtlessly not the experience.