The events that took place after the X-jet landed in Westchester were a blur for Nora Blaize. 
She remembered being brought through automatic doors into a high-tech medical facility, and how the spotless, metal interior had initially unnerved her.  Too tired to again question their motives, Nora looked Cyclops for reassurance, and though she couldn't see his eyes, something about his smile made her obediently follow them inside. 

From there, she met Dr. Ruth Clairmonde, an older woman in her fifties, who handed her a tall glass of water.  Only now realizing how dehydrated she was, she greedily gulped it down as well as a second and third as the kind doctor began to apply disinfectant to a gash in her arm.

Nora was put at ease by the woman's natural beside manner, and she soon found herself answering questions about her medical history and what medications she was allergic to.  After her wounds were dressed, the doctor checked her temperature and blood pressure, allowing Nora to feel for just a second like she was a regular girl at a doctor's office, receiving a check-up.

A few moments later, a well dressed, completely bald man in a wheelchair had greeted her.  Though Nora hadn't paid attention when he gave his name, he had told her that she was at a school, a school for mutants.  Their conversation had been brief, ending with him telling her to rest and promising that he would speak to her again once she had recovered her strength.

At his departure, Dr. Clairmonde had showed her into a small hospital room off to the side.  The doctor had been saying something about a shower stall and towels, but all Nora saw was the bed.  Her heavy legs dragging across the floor, she reached the edge and collapsed onto the mattress with a 'fffump', not even bothering to take off her sneakers.

Cushioned by a very soft pillow, Nora's eyelids drooped, and she immediately sunk downward into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Standing in the doorway, Cyclops watched as the doctor removed her shoes and gently tucked a blanket around the sleeping girl.

Smiling slightly, Dr. Clairmonde left the darkened room and joined Scott in the main section of the med-lab.  "Out like a light," she commented as she cleaned the table.

"You think she'll be okay?" he asked.

The doctor cast a glance back to the room.  "I don't see why not.  I'll check up on her every few hours, but she'll probably sleep through most of tonight and tomorrow."

Leaning against the MRI unit, Scott smiled affectionately towards the doctor.  "It's been good of you to come out here, Ruth."

Wrinkles creased at the edge of her gray-blue eyes as the old doctor gave a brief laugh.  "Leave it to Charles to give me a call a week before my retirement papers go through."

Scott chuckled.  Clairmonde had been the doctor at the school back when he'd been a student.  His face became somber.  They had needed someone with medical expertise, after Jean.

"You were the only person he called," he let her know.  "He always speaks well of you."

She gave a 'hmph', but couldn't hide her smile.  "Well, there are very few people Charles will speak poorly of."  The doctor took in a deep, cleansing breath once the station was cleaned.  "But I'm glad to hear I'm not one of them."

His smile turned sideways.  She hadn't quite protested against the compliment, yet she had not fully endorsed it either.  It left him in no position to praise her further.  Uncanny, that Ruth Clairmonde. 

Scott picked up his jacket.  "I'll be back in a little while," he said, taking his leave.  "If you'd like, I can bring you down a cup of coffee when I do."

"Now, that," she said, pointing to him, "is a gesture I would greatly appreciate."

When he left the room, the doctor checked to make sure the medical lab was back in order and once again looked in on her only patient.  The teenage girl lay in the same position they had left her, sprawled out across the bed.

The doctor put a hand to her chin, and reminded herself to ask Charles for the girl's full story when she spoke with him later that evening.

Safe within the confines of the school, Nora slept for a full twenty-four hours, and spent a second day resting in the infirmary under the direction of the doctor who cared for her.

* * * * *

Alone in his room, Trevor Avish plugged long and tiresome equations into his TI-83 and scribbled down what he thought was the answer to one of his many math problems.  Grumbling at the gibberish on the page, he brushed sleepy sand out of his eyes as he sat at his desk. 

He knew he should have finished the assignment last night.

With a sigh, Trevor slouched down in his chair as far as he could without falling off the edge.   Okay, he thought, running his hands through his dusty red shoulder-length hair.  It was official. 

Physics was driving him insane.

Gazing out into space, he toyed with the idea of going down into the art room for a break.  He still hadn't finished that modern collage, or the charcoal sketch…  Maybe he could get Aimee to go with him.  After all, why not?  Several of their classes had already been cancelled for the day.

His eyes once again finding the handout, Trevor made a determined face and clutched his pencil with newfound resolve.  No.  It was time to focus, he chided himself.  No more distractions.

Trevor's inner pep-talk had actually caused him to start the next word problem, when he overheard familiar voices chatting outside of his open bedroom door.

"-Brought her in after first period," Bobby Drake, his roommate, commented to someone as he slowly made his way down the hall.  "I got a glimpse of Cyclops and Storm leading her into the hospital wing when I was heading out of the Danger Room."

"We heard the X-Jet leave early this morning.  We wondered if we'd be seein' somebody new." Rogue's voice joined her boyfriend's.  "Was she okay?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders.  "She was a little scratched up.  Kind of scared.  But other than that, she seemed alright."

Trevor looked down at his physics homework and back to the door.  There was no contest.  Noiselessly, he inched towards the door to listen more closely.  It had been at least four months since they'd gotten a new student.

"What's she look like?" she asked.

"A normal high school kid, about our age," Bobby answered.  "You wouldn't know she was a mutant to look at her."

Trevor grinned.  A new student their age?  His best friend Aimee Whittaker, goddess of gossip, would be in her glory.

Leaning her head to the side, Rogue heaved a thoughtful sigh. She remembered what it was like the first time she'd come to the mansion.  The frightening novelty of it all, the culture shock of suddenly being surrounded by so many mutants…  "She's prob'ly pretty overwhelmed…"

"Yeah," Bobby soundly agreed.  Leaning against the wall, he linked his arms around her small waist.  "She was a runaway from the looks of her."

She returned the gesture, enjoying the closeness of their bodies.  "Did she have anything with her?" she wondered aloud.  "Like a bag of backpack?"

Bobby thought back.  "No," he said.  "Not with her anyway."

Rogue arched her neck, causing her white tresses to fall forward.  "Well, then don't you think we oughtta give her a proper welcome?  Some clothes or something?  She probably doesn't even have a hairbrush."

Bobby distractedly brushed back the white streaks in her hair, being careful not to touch the skin around her face.  "It'd be a nice gesture," he said, knowing his girlfriend meant well.  "But I'm sure Dr. Clarimonde's taking care of her, as well as the rest of the staff.  The professor wouldn't let her go without clothes."

"I know, but I'm just saying it might be nice to see people her own age," she pressed.  "It couldn't hurt, Bobby."

Still listening in, Trevor read the meaning behind Rogue's words.  She wanted to meet the new girl because she was concerned, yes, but also to satisfy her own curiosity.  Trevor's smile grew.  And who could blame her?

Unconvinced, Bobby breathed an icy sigh.  "I don't know, Rogue.  I just think we should wait until-"

At that point, footsteps sounded behind them and another voice joined their conversation.  "Rogue?"  There was a short scuffling sound as the two moved away from each other, out of respect for the woman before them. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

It was Miss Munroe.  Trevor pulled back his wavy hair to lean his ear closer against the wall.  He suddenly wondered why he didn't eavesdrop more often.

"Yeah, sure," Rogue allowed.

Storm wasted no time in explaining herself.  "This morning a teenage girl was brought into the school to be given medical attention."  She gave Rogue a quick once-over.  "You're close to her in size, and I was wondering if she might borrow an outfit of yours.  Just a simple t-shirt?  Jeans?  It doesn't have to be anything elaborate-"

"Sure," she repeated enthusiastically.  "It's no problem."

"Thank you." Storm said in a reserved tone that rarely left her.  "Just bring them down to the medical lab when you have the chance, and Dr. Clairmonde will see that she gets them."

Once again, Rogue assured Storm that it was not a problem, and her mission completed, Miss Munroe returned back down the hallway to attend to other matters.

Trevor snickered as quietly as possible when Rogue smugly turned her face to Bobby.

"See?" she taunted.

Bobby muttered something about a lucky coincidence, and laughing proudly, Rogue began to rattle off outfits that she would be willing to part with as they made their way to her room.  As their voices faded, Trevor stepped back from the wall.

Forgetting all about his physics homework, he threw on a pair of shoes and waited until the couple was out of sight before hurriedly clamoring down the stairs.

He suddenly couldn't wait to see Aimee's reaction to the news.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Muwahahaha! Inspiration just keeps coming!  Curious as to what Trevor looks like??  A very talented friend of mine did a drawing.  Email me at dianaclampe@yahoo.com if you wanna see ;D