X-Men: Dark Moon
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter
Continued... Chapter 3: Opposing Views
When a ~ appears with someone speaking, it means the dialogue is in italics (they're thoughts or another language)...
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John DiMarco woke the next morning with a painful pounding in his head. He slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight coming through the window. Rolling off his stomach, he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back, and groaned.
"Good morning, Mr. DiMarco. I hope you slept well."
John forced himself to sit up and face the British woman from the night before, who was reclining in a chair adjacent to the bed, casually flipping through files piled on her lap. He struggled against his restraints as he watched her for a moment, noticing her attempt to ignore him.
~This is starting to become more trouble than it's worth, ~ he thought, ~Why didn't you just pull the trigger back there on the roof? ~
"What's this?" He moved his bound hands so she could see them.
"You gave us quite a scare last night." She commented, seeming to not hear the question.
"What are you talking about?"
She looked at him, stunned. "You don't remember?"
He shook his head. The woman stood up, placed the files on the chair, and brought a trash bin from the corner of the room over to the side of the bed. John craned his neck to glance inside at the shattered vials within. His stomach sank as she answered him.
"Those drugs you were taking seem to have been...less than adequate."
He cursed under his breath, and slowly lifted his head. "Was anybody hurt?"
"We'll live." She placed the garbage can back in the corner and pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. "Now, if you feel you are entirely yourself again..."
Staring at the floor, he quietly nodded. She came forward, kneeled on the bed, and quickly unlocked the handcuffs. He then found his voice.
"Why am I still here?"
The woman put the handcuffs on the dresser beside them and sat on the edge of the mattress.
"You found your way into the school easy enough before: I assumed you could find another way in undetected again. I thought this might be safer for all of us."
"Yeah, and look where that idea got us," he snapped. The woman stiffened from his angry remark.
"As I've said, no one was hurt, Mr. DiMarco, but I would be more than happy to show you the way out ~without~ the return of your belongings."
"I guess I've overstayed my welcome." He conceded, rubbing his sore wrists.
"On the contrary," she interrupted, "Your situation withstanding, I've found it necessary to ask you to stay for a while longer."
He raised his head, surprised. "Excuse me?"
"The fact is, I'd like to help you." She offered her hand to him. "Gwendolyn Holmes."
He stared warily at her for a moment before returning the handshake. "John."
"I'd like to help you, John." She loosened her grip, but it took him a little longer to let go. "If you'll allow me to, of course."
"I don't think that's possible..." He turned to sit on the other side of the bed and pulled on his shirt, which had been lying on the floor.
Gwen laughed at his stubbornness. "I run a school for mutant teenagers." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think I can handle you."
"By yourself?"
She stood up from the bed and slowly headed out of the room. "Truth be told, the others don't quite share my view of all this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach this morning..."
John studied her as she left. "So you're the only person here who trusts me?"
Gwendolyn stopped halfway to the door raising an eyebrow and casting him a wry smile. "Who ever said I trusted you?"
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She entered her office some minutes later. Arthur stood in front of her desk, waiting impatiently.
"Why didn't the Professor warn us?" He paced the floor in front of her. "One would think being the most powerful telepath in the world, that he would know all of DiMarco's little secrets."
Gwen walked over to her desk, placing her files on the desktop. "Well, how would you have acted if you'd known what he could do?"
"You're defending him?" Arthur was taken aback. "Gwen, he nearly killed you!"
"I think you're exaggerating a little."
"The man is dangerous; you can't allow him around the students."
Clocks began ringing to sound that it was 8:00 in the morning; the mutant students' classes would begin soon.
"You don't have the authority to make that judgment. I am convinced now that John was brought here for a reason and not just to protect Moira."
"John?" he huffed.
Their conversation was interrupted as four students hustled into the room. Gwen stared warily at them. She began to whisper in Arabic to prevent overhearing.
"Kefaya! ~That's enough! Please try to understand; he needs our help, not our ridicule.~"
Arthur responded with no difficulty. "~Not when he places the students, and us, in danger for our lives!~"
"~Don't we place ourselves in that situation every day?~"
He glared hard at her. Uneasy silence continued for a while.
"~Fine. It's your decision, no matter how misguided.~"
As more students entered the office, Gwen turned to her desk. "I believe you have a class to tend to."
Quinn clenched his fists, and stormed out of the room.
Gwen sighed and returned to her desk, anxiously re-sorting the papers. She quietly turned to the students, who now filled the room.
"Good morning, class. Please take your seats..."
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Later that morning, John swung the door open, straightening his shirt collar. He'd sensed he had a guard long before he'd stepped out of the room, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young Australian leaning in a chair against the wall. He stopped and slightly smiled, wondering why Gwendolyn had left a child to keep watch over him.
"I wasn't told to stop ya, mate." The young man leaned the chair upright. Just to let ya know we'll be watchin. So no funny business; got it?"
"Got it..." John responded, unconvinced by the young man's ultimatum. He felt his stomach suddenly growling. Then he realized he hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon.
"There any way to get some food around here?"
"Sure, mate: kitchen's down the stairs on the left."
"Thanks," he turned to go. "And I'm not your mate, boy."
The would-be guard raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright, no need t' get snippy bout it."
John slowly ventured down the staircase. Glancing down into the hall below, he caught the gaze of three young students relaxing on the sofas at the far end of the room.
In unison, the three quickly stood up from their seats and hustled to an adjacent door, suddenly eager to return to class.
He grimaced for a moment, recalling what he had been told about the previous night, but then heard raised voices coming from the office at the foot of the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and he decided to investigate.
The door was cracked open, so as he came closer, he could discern that one voice belonged to Gwendolyn...
"Humanism is a philosophy that emphasizes humanity's ability to reach their full potential as ethical and moral people. It's fairly popular belief, but a bit too ideal."
John peeked into the crack in the door and saw a large gathering of students seated in various upholstered chairs surrounding Gwendolyn's desk. The young woman was leaning against it, deep into her lecture.
"So how do you learn to define morality? How do you know right from wrong? Where do you learn it from?"
She looked around, waiting for a volunteer. A young, Asian girl raised her hand. Gwendolyn pointed to her.
"From our parents," the girl piped up from the back of the room.
"Alright, Becka, but where do they learn?"
"From their parents," a tall German boy answered aloud. John recognized the young red-haired girl sitting a few rows back. The girl raised her hand cautiously.
"Yes, Moira?"
"Well, doesn't society shape what we believe?"
The woman smiled, nodding.
"Very good point, Moira. But then we must begin to consider who started society's view? Where did it all begin?"
Gwendolyn shrewdly observed the student's faces: this was obviously getting too in depth.
"But we're getting off topic. So as I was saying, the humanist belief is that all humanity had the capacity to be good."
"That idea is flawed, Ms. Holmes."
Students gave murmurs of disapproval and flashed stern glances at the boy who had cut in, warning him to not contradict her. But Gwendolyn raised her hands in protest.
"Now now, we're not here to judge: after all, this class is founded on individual ideas and opinions. Marcus, you have the floor."
The boy seemed surprised that he was allowed to continue. It took him a moment to come up with what to say.
"Well, these philosophers spew all about humanity being honest and that everyone has the ability to be good...when we ALL know from personal experience that that's not true."
Gwendolyn's face became grim as she shifted uneasily on the desktop.
"Yes, I'm sure no one here can say that they have never received a strange look from someone because of what we are."
"Then what are we supposed to do? Hide from humans? Never reveal ourselves?"
All eyes were now on Gwendolyn, awaiting her response. She stood up, facing the entire class.
"I'm not here to give you with all the answers to life. Even if I was, I couldn't provide them."
John watched silently from the doorway as she glanced at the clock above the door. He ducked out of the way. He wasn't sure if he had been seen, but Gwendolyn continued.
"This class is designed to provide you with different points of view in order for you to come up with your own conclusions about humanity. I hope, of course, that you all can find it inside yourselves to give them the benefit of the doubt to accept us."
"Why should we?" Marcus remarked indignantly. Gwendolyn rested her hand on his shoulder.
"I know how you feel. But we mustn't hate those humans who refuse to accept us; if we do, we're no better than them."
Suddenly, another clock sounded that it was noon. The tension was broken as the student packed their books.
"I'll see you all for training at two o'clock sharp." She finally let out a quiet sigh, heading back to her desk.
John quickly shifted to the side to avoid the charge of students rushing through the door. As the crowd thinned, he peeked into the door at Gwendolyn, who was resting in her desk chair.
"You may come in, John."
He walked in, a little hesitant. Glancing around the room, he found her office of be adorned with an array of Egyptian artifacts; stone hangings of hieroglyphics lined the walls, busts of ancient pharaohs placed on pedestals were placed on either end of the doorway, and an image of a goddess painted onto a sheet of papyrus paper was framed beside her desk.
He looked back to Gwendolyn, who was resting against her hands, slumped over the pile of papers.
"You look tired," he remarked, running his hands along the desk.
She looked up at him, smiling weakly. "Hmm? Oh...yes; a bit, I suppose. It's been a very long week." She straightened up. "So what can I do for you?"
"Oh nothing, I was on my way to get something to eat and I heard your class. Sounded interesting."
"You don't have to patronize me, John. I know that philosophy's not one of the most exciting subjects."
"The kids seemed to be getting into it."
"Well that was a topic that is most relevant to our work here: it requires a lot of attention."
There was a long pause between them. John allowed his attention to wander around the room. His eyes fell onto the image resting on her desk.
"What's this?"
"She's Shait, the Egyptian goddess of fate and destiny."
"Shyeet?" he tried his best to pronounce it, but it didn't come as close as Gwendolyn's near native accent saying the name.
"It was a gift from a friend of my family. I was raised in Egypt for much of my life, and some followers of the old religions who worked for my father felt that my powers made me a Shait reincarnate."
He saw her eyes dim as she mentioned her father. "Is he..."
"Both he and my mother passed many years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"No need. I don't think I would have even considered attending Xavier's school in America had I not been on my own. Life's not without its lucky surprises, I suppose."
A long pause once again followed. John continued hesitantly.
"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."
Gwen smiled knowingly and stood up from her seat. "About our arrangement?"
"Yeah. I don't understand exactly how you expect to help me."
"We can discuss it if you like."
"Right now?"
Her smile broadened. "Of course, if you wish. But I'd prefer to get something to eat first. I'm starving too."
John returned with a grin, moving to the side to let her through. "After you."
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To be continued...
A FanFic by: Artemis Hunter
Continued... Chapter 3: Opposing Views
When a ~ appears with someone speaking, it means the dialogue is in italics (they're thoughts or another language)...
--------------------------------------------------------------
John DiMarco woke the next morning with a painful pounding in his head. He slowly opened his eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight coming through the window. Rolling off his stomach, he realized his hands were cuffed behind his back, and groaned.
"Good morning, Mr. DiMarco. I hope you slept well."
John forced himself to sit up and face the British woman from the night before, who was reclining in a chair adjacent to the bed, casually flipping through files piled on her lap. He struggled against his restraints as he watched her for a moment, noticing her attempt to ignore him.
~This is starting to become more trouble than it's worth, ~ he thought, ~Why didn't you just pull the trigger back there on the roof? ~
"What's this?" He moved his bound hands so she could see them.
"You gave us quite a scare last night." She commented, seeming to not hear the question.
"What are you talking about?"
She looked at him, stunned. "You don't remember?"
He shook his head. The woman stood up, placed the files on the chair, and brought a trash bin from the corner of the room over to the side of the bed. John craned his neck to glance inside at the shattered vials within. His stomach sank as she answered him.
"Those drugs you were taking seem to have been...less than adequate."
He cursed under his breath, and slowly lifted his head. "Was anybody hurt?"
"We'll live." She placed the garbage can back in the corner and pulled a set of keys out of her pocket. "Now, if you feel you are entirely yourself again..."
Staring at the floor, he quietly nodded. She came forward, kneeled on the bed, and quickly unlocked the handcuffs. He then found his voice.
"Why am I still here?"
The woman put the handcuffs on the dresser beside them and sat on the edge of the mattress.
"You found your way into the school easy enough before: I assumed you could find another way in undetected again. I thought this might be safer for all of us."
"Yeah, and look where that idea got us," he snapped. The woman stiffened from his angry remark.
"As I've said, no one was hurt, Mr. DiMarco, but I would be more than happy to show you the way out ~without~ the return of your belongings."
"I guess I've overstayed my welcome." He conceded, rubbing his sore wrists.
"On the contrary," she interrupted, "Your situation withstanding, I've found it necessary to ask you to stay for a while longer."
He raised his head, surprised. "Excuse me?"
"The fact is, I'd like to help you." She offered her hand to him. "Gwendolyn Holmes."
He stared warily at her for a moment before returning the handshake. "John."
"I'd like to help you, John." She loosened her grip, but it took him a little longer to let go. "If you'll allow me to, of course."
"I don't think that's possible..." He turned to sit on the other side of the bed and pulled on his shirt, which had been lying on the floor.
Gwen laughed at his stubbornness. "I run a school for mutant teenagers." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "I think I can handle you."
"By yourself?"
She stood up from the bed and slowly headed out of the room. "Truth be told, the others don't quite share my view of all this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach this morning..."
John studied her as she left. "So you're the only person here who trusts me?"
Gwendolyn stopped halfway to the door raising an eyebrow and casting him a wry smile. "Who ever said I trusted you?"
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She entered her office some minutes later. Arthur stood in front of her desk, waiting impatiently.
"Why didn't the Professor warn us?" He paced the floor in front of her. "One would think being the most powerful telepath in the world, that he would know all of DiMarco's little secrets."
Gwen walked over to her desk, placing her files on the desktop. "Well, how would you have acted if you'd known what he could do?"
"You're defending him?" Arthur was taken aback. "Gwen, he nearly killed you!"
"I think you're exaggerating a little."
"The man is dangerous; you can't allow him around the students."
Clocks began ringing to sound that it was 8:00 in the morning; the mutant students' classes would begin soon.
"You don't have the authority to make that judgment. I am convinced now that John was brought here for a reason and not just to protect Moira."
"John?" he huffed.
Their conversation was interrupted as four students hustled into the room. Gwen stared warily at them. She began to whisper in Arabic to prevent overhearing.
"Kefaya! ~That's enough! Please try to understand; he needs our help, not our ridicule.~"
Arthur responded with no difficulty. "~Not when he places the students, and us, in danger for our lives!~"
"~Don't we place ourselves in that situation every day?~"
He glared hard at her. Uneasy silence continued for a while.
"~Fine. It's your decision, no matter how misguided.~"
As more students entered the office, Gwen turned to her desk. "I believe you have a class to tend to."
Quinn clenched his fists, and stormed out of the room.
Gwen sighed and returned to her desk, anxiously re-sorting the papers. She quietly turned to the students, who now filled the room.
"Good morning, class. Please take your seats..."
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Later that morning, John swung the door open, straightening his shirt collar. He'd sensed he had a guard long before he'd stepped out of the room, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the young Australian leaning in a chair against the wall. He stopped and slightly smiled, wondering why Gwendolyn had left a child to keep watch over him.
"I wasn't told to stop ya, mate." The young man leaned the chair upright. Just to let ya know we'll be watchin. So no funny business; got it?"
"Got it..." John responded, unconvinced by the young man's ultimatum. He felt his stomach suddenly growling. Then he realized he hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon.
"There any way to get some food around here?"
"Sure, mate: kitchen's down the stairs on the left."
"Thanks," he turned to go. "And I'm not your mate, boy."
The would-be guard raised his hands defensively. "Alright, alright, no need t' get snippy bout it."
John slowly ventured down the staircase. Glancing down into the hall below, he caught the gaze of three young students relaxing on the sofas at the far end of the room.
In unison, the three quickly stood up from their seats and hustled to an adjacent door, suddenly eager to return to class.
He grimaced for a moment, recalling what he had been told about the previous night, but then heard raised voices coming from the office at the foot of the stairs. His eyes narrowed, and he decided to investigate.
The door was cracked open, so as he came closer, he could discern that one voice belonged to Gwendolyn...
"Humanism is a philosophy that emphasizes humanity's ability to reach their full potential as ethical and moral people. It's fairly popular belief, but a bit too ideal."
John peeked into the crack in the door and saw a large gathering of students seated in various upholstered chairs surrounding Gwendolyn's desk. The young woman was leaning against it, deep into her lecture.
"So how do you learn to define morality? How do you know right from wrong? Where do you learn it from?"
She looked around, waiting for a volunteer. A young, Asian girl raised her hand. Gwendolyn pointed to her.
"From our parents," the girl piped up from the back of the room.
"Alright, Becka, but where do they learn?"
"From their parents," a tall German boy answered aloud. John recognized the young red-haired girl sitting a few rows back. The girl raised her hand cautiously.
"Yes, Moira?"
"Well, doesn't society shape what we believe?"
The woman smiled, nodding.
"Very good point, Moira. But then we must begin to consider who started society's view? Where did it all begin?"
Gwendolyn shrewdly observed the student's faces: this was obviously getting too in depth.
"But we're getting off topic. So as I was saying, the humanist belief is that all humanity had the capacity to be good."
"That idea is flawed, Ms. Holmes."
Students gave murmurs of disapproval and flashed stern glances at the boy who had cut in, warning him to not contradict her. But Gwendolyn raised her hands in protest.
"Now now, we're not here to judge: after all, this class is founded on individual ideas and opinions. Marcus, you have the floor."
The boy seemed surprised that he was allowed to continue. It took him a moment to come up with what to say.
"Well, these philosophers spew all about humanity being honest and that everyone has the ability to be good...when we ALL know from personal experience that that's not true."
Gwendolyn's face became grim as she shifted uneasily on the desktop.
"Yes, I'm sure no one here can say that they have never received a strange look from someone because of what we are."
"Then what are we supposed to do? Hide from humans? Never reveal ourselves?"
All eyes were now on Gwendolyn, awaiting her response. She stood up, facing the entire class.
"I'm not here to give you with all the answers to life. Even if I was, I couldn't provide them."
John watched silently from the doorway as she glanced at the clock above the door. He ducked out of the way. He wasn't sure if he had been seen, but Gwendolyn continued.
"This class is designed to provide you with different points of view in order for you to come up with your own conclusions about humanity. I hope, of course, that you all can find it inside yourselves to give them the benefit of the doubt to accept us."
"Why should we?" Marcus remarked indignantly. Gwendolyn rested her hand on his shoulder.
"I know how you feel. But we mustn't hate those humans who refuse to accept us; if we do, we're no better than them."
Suddenly, another clock sounded that it was noon. The tension was broken as the student packed their books.
"I'll see you all for training at two o'clock sharp." She finally let out a quiet sigh, heading back to her desk.
John quickly shifted to the side to avoid the charge of students rushing through the door. As the crowd thinned, he peeked into the door at Gwendolyn, who was resting in her desk chair.
"You may come in, John."
He walked in, a little hesitant. Glancing around the room, he found her office of be adorned with an array of Egyptian artifacts; stone hangings of hieroglyphics lined the walls, busts of ancient pharaohs placed on pedestals were placed on either end of the doorway, and an image of a goddess painted onto a sheet of papyrus paper was framed beside her desk.
He looked back to Gwendolyn, who was resting against her hands, slumped over the pile of papers.
"You look tired," he remarked, running his hands along the desk.
She looked up at him, smiling weakly. "Hmm? Oh...yes; a bit, I suppose. It's been a very long week." She straightened up. "So what can I do for you?"
"Oh nothing, I was on my way to get something to eat and I heard your class. Sounded interesting."
"You don't have to patronize me, John. I know that philosophy's not one of the most exciting subjects."
"The kids seemed to be getting into it."
"Well that was a topic that is most relevant to our work here: it requires a lot of attention."
There was a long pause between them. John allowed his attention to wander around the room. His eyes fell onto the image resting on her desk.
"What's this?"
"She's Shait, the Egyptian goddess of fate and destiny."
"Shyeet?" he tried his best to pronounce it, but it didn't come as close as Gwendolyn's near native accent saying the name.
"It was a gift from a friend of my family. I was raised in Egypt for much of my life, and some followers of the old religions who worked for my father felt that my powers made me a Shait reincarnate."
He saw her eyes dim as she mentioned her father. "Is he..."
"Both he and my mother passed many years ago."
"I'm sorry."
"No need. I don't think I would have even considered attending Xavier's school in America had I not been on my own. Life's not without its lucky surprises, I suppose."
A long pause once again followed. John continued hesitantly.
"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something."
Gwen smiled knowingly and stood up from her seat. "About our arrangement?"
"Yeah. I don't understand exactly how you expect to help me."
"We can discuss it if you like."
"Right now?"
Her smile broadened. "Of course, if you wish. But I'd prefer to get something to eat first. I'm starving too."
John returned with a grin, moving to the side to let her through. "After you."
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To be continued...