Title: The Genesis Strain
Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Rating: R - language, violence, and gore
Disclaimer: Not mine
Thanks to A. Ceretta and Purity Black. Your encouragement is appreciated!
Chapter Two: On The Threshold
Xavier Institute for the Gifted
Westchester County, NY
June 27th 4:22 a.m.
Scott Summers was roused from deep, dreaming slumber by a gentle hand shaking his shoulder.
"Scott, wake up. The Professor wants to see us downstairs."
Eyes that had the power to blast through walls blinked open groggily at the quiet voice, their destructive optic beams kept in check by the ruby-quartz sleeping goggles that had recently replaced his everyday - and decidedly less comfortable - sunglasses.
"Rogue?" Scott murmured, finally focusing on the girl standing at his bedside. "What's wrong?"
"Just get up," the southern girl whispered, heading back towards his open bedroom door and motioning for him to follow.
After a glance at the clock on his nightstand, Scott threw back his blankets and hurried after her, knowing that only something important would prompt the Professor to drag either of them from their beds at such an ungodly hour. "What's going on?" he asked, catching up to Rogue at the top of the stairs.
"I'm not sure," she admitted, running a gloved hand through her hair as they descended. "Mr. McCoy knocked on my door about five minutes ago, told me to get you out of bed, and for both of us to meet him and the Professor in the hangar bay right away."
"The hangar?" Scott frowned, pausing in the kitchen to grab a quick glass of water.
Rogue shrugged, watching him drink. "As long as it's not the Danger Room," she said with sleepy vehemence, stifling a yawn.
A faint smile flickered across Scott's lips at her words. "I don't think we have to worry about one of Logan's sessions for at least another couple of days - not after the way you tore into him yesterday." He placed his empty glass in the sink and the pair resumed their journey, stepping into the hall elevator that would take them to the mansion's underground levels.
"Well, what kind of sadist schedules training at 5 a.m. the first day of summer vacation?" Rogue grumbled defensively, arms crossing against her chest.
Scott shook his head, his smile growing. "I just can't believe you threw your alarm clock at him."
"He deserved worse...interrupting my dream like that," she muttered, realizing belatedly that she'd spoken her thoughts aloud when she caught sight of Scott's curiously amused expression.
"Must have been some dream," he remarked, fully grinning now as they entered the cavernous chamber that housed the Blackbird. "Was I in it?" he added in a teasing tone.
The pink heat of a mortified blush erupted across Rogue's too-white face, even as the truthful response to that oh-so-innocent, unknowingly hurtful jest trembled on the tip of her tongue, begging to be blurted into existence. She dropped a step behind him in her embarrassment and pressed her lips together tightly to avoid adding to it, for once thankful of Scott's mutation and how it camouflaged her heightened colour.
Always, Scott... echoed wistfully inside her head. But until you're over Jean, that's the only place I can be with you...in dreams...
The black wings of depression fluttered through her at that thought, chasing away the tiny spark of pleasure being in Scott's presence never failed to kindle, leaving her sullen and suddenly cold. The need to return to her room, to be alone with her unhappiness, welled up forcefully inside her, emotions only the appearance of the Professor quashed. Recalled to the possible seriousness of the matter at hand, she gave herself a shake to clear her mind, and joined Scott just as their mentor did.
"Good, you're both here," Xavier started off, his tone unusually brusque and his face pale. "I'm afraid I have some very disturbing news to impart, and not much time to deliver it in."
Scott and Rogue traded looks of concern with one another, Xavier's voice pulling their eyes back to him.
"Hank received a call from the CDC an hour ago -"
"The Center for Disease Control?" Scott interrupted.
"Yes, they need his help," Xavier nodded. "I will be accompanying him, while you two," he continued gravely, "will remain here."
"But sir! Rogue and I can be suited up in - "
"No arguments, Scott. Not this time," Xavier warned, cutting off his student's protest mid-word. "If the information Hank's contact relayed proves even partially accurate, then it would be far too dangerous to bring either of you along. I won't risk it."
Scott seemed unconvinced. "With all due respect, sir, we're X-Men. We take our chances every minute of every day." He began ticking points off on his fingers. "The Brotherhood, Magneto, The Acolytes, Apocalypse, not to mention all those anti-mutant groups who'd love to see us dead. What could possibly be more dangerous than what we've already come up against?"
Xavier shook his head slowly as his lips quirked into a small, sad smile. "Scott, there are still some things in this world that even the X-Men can't stand against."
"Like what?" Rogue asked uneasily, her fingertips unconsciously toying with one of her pajama sleeves.
"A virus," rang a voice from behind teens. "The likes of which the scientific community has never encountered before."
Turning, Rogue and Scott saw the familiar blue-furred form of Hank McCoy lumber in through the open hangar doors, a large box perched on one shoulder, a specially reinforced bag containing his laptop slung around the other.
"A virus," he continued, loading the unmarked box into the Blackbird, "that was first reported less than eight hours ago, and has since surfaced in more than a dozen major cities worldwide. No one knows how it started, how many people could be infected, or even how it's transmitted. The only thing that is known is that it's spreading quickly." He approached the now silent trio, bestial face grim. "If it's not stopped soon, we could be looking at the worst pandemic the world's ever seen."
"Oh no," Rogue breathed, stunned.
Hank patted her shoulder awkwardly. "Hey, I said if it's not stopped. The Professor and I are going to do everything in our power to see that it is, but that means paying a visit to Atlanta and learning more about what we're up against – which, at this point, given the limited amount of information available, I've yet to determine."
Scott was quiet for a moment, digesting his instructor's words, before he glanced back at the Professor determinedly. "If the situation plays out like Beast says it might - if things are really bad out there, all the more reason we should go with you."
"No, Scott."
"You might need our protection! What if -"
"I said no." The Professor didn't yell, but he might as well have.
Scott slumped, crestfallen at the man's refusal.
"Now, there are a few more things you need to know before we go," the telepath went on as Hank took the grips of his wheelchair in either paw-like hand and steered him towards the jet. "Neither one of you is to leave the mansion for any reason until we return. I've activated the primary defenses as a precaution, so that means even the estate's grounds are off limits, is that understood?" The teens nodded. "I pray matters don't deteriorate to where you'll need them, but the codes for the DEFCON sequences are behind one of the wall panels in my study - do you remember which one, Scott?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, but you'll need this to get to them."
A small brass key was placed in the center of Scott's palm as he stared, stricken, at the man he very nearly considered a father, his expression plainly saying that he feared for him. Unsurprisingly, Xavier seemed to pick up on his charge's worry, and, with a reassuring smile, took Scott's hand in his own, gently forcing the boy's fingers to curl into a protective fist around the key. "Don't lose it," he softly admonished as he drew his hand away, their eyes connecting meaningfully despite Scott's goggles. "I'll want it back when I return."
"When you return," Scott echoed quietly, watching as first Xavier, and then Hank, disappeared into the jet, the ramp rising up behind them and locking into place.
Rogue, not a little scared herself and unsure of what else to do, hesitantly slid her gloved hand into Scott's free one and gave it a squeeze as the Blackbird's engines whined to life. With his attention fully on the two faces that could be seen through the cockpit windows, Scott didn't seem to notice her gesture. Disappointment flared, and Rogue tried to pull her hand back, only to have Scott's fingers spasm around hers at the movement, his grip suddenly going tight.
And so they remained, holding fast to one another as the Blackbird taxied down the short runway and through the large metal doors that slid open at its approach, the rumble of the waterfall just without mixing with the aircraft's to form a deafening cacophony of sound.
When the doors shut, and the jet was gone, Rogue looked to Scott. "I'm sure they'll be fine."
Scott huffed out a sigh and, still clinging to her hand, started to move out of the hangar. "Yeah, I guess so," he replied shortly.
Never one for pep talks, Rogue decided to say nothing further, simply contenting herself with peeping at him covertly from the cover of her long, white-streaked bangs, enjoying the feel of his fingers interlaced with her own - until a belated realization tickled the back of her skull.
One very important person - the fifth member of their shrunken, summertime family - had not only been absent from the hangar meeting, but hadn't even been mentioned at all.
Perplexed, the southerner slowed, then stopped in her tracks.
"Umm...Scott?"
"Yeah?"
"Where do you suppose Logan is?"
