A/N: Thanks to my naughty reviewer for loving my fic enough to run run the risk of getting grounded again. You are truly wonderful.
"Hey, Logan. Where's the Prof, I need to talk to him." Damia had just walked back inside. She felt she needed to tell the Professor about her breakthrough. She also felt that he was the only oneshe could tell without being criticized.
Logan turned his grave eyes to Damia. "He's in the infirmary."
Her hazel eyes widened as she spoke, "Why? What's wrong? What happened?"
"He was using Cerebro when something went wrong. Someone sabotaged it to make sure he wouldn't be able to locate the island." Logan seemed to be a mix of angry and worried.
Damia took off at a run towards the hospital wing. She skidded to a stop out front of the doors, the sanitary smell seeping through and assaulting her nose. With a deep, steadying breath she stepped into the room.
Inside the room was a blinding white with the sickening sterile smell. There was a bed in one corner with the curtain drawn, two people could be heard speaking in hushed voices. Damia recognized them as Scott and Jean.
"Hello," Damia said quietly, so as not to seem like she was eavesdropping.
Scott's head poked out from behind the curtain, his red sunglasses reflected the white walls. He motioned Damia towards the curtain before he disappeared behind it again. Slowly she walked forward, her shoes squeaking slightly on the tiled floor. She reached the curtain and stepped behind it.
The Professor lay in the bed, the blankets drawn up to his chest. He was unconscious.
"How's he doing?" Damia braced herself for the worst.
Jean sighed and said, "His condition is stable. He'll make it but he'll be out for awhile." Damia let out her breath, not realizing she had been holding it.
"Logan said something was wrong with Cerebro...?" She looked from Jean to Scott and then to the Professor.
"We think Mystique somehow got in and messed with it so he wouldn't be able to get a lock on you and Rogue," Jean answered again.
"That's exactly why you shouldn't have tried it yourself," Scott scolded causing Damia to look more closely at Jean. She looked exhausted. "What were you thinking?" She only sighed and shook her head in response to Scott.
Damia waited for a moment in the awkward silence before she broke it. "Uh, guys? Could I have a minute with the Professor, alone?"
Jean and Scott exchanged looks. "Of course," said Jean tenderly before she rose from her chair. Scott immediately helped her.
When she heard the doors to the infirmary close Damia sighed and sat beside the Professor's bed. He looked so peaceful, his hands folded over his chest, his bald head shining slightly.
"I'm sorry," Damia blurted out. "This is all my fault." Tears sprang to her eyes as she spoke. "You'd think after you took me in I'd be more grateful, but no." Damia wiped away her tears and she took the Professor's hand. "I should have tried to spring Rogue while I was there. I'm really sorry, Professor." Damia leaned over and kissed the top of his bald head. "I'll bring her back. I promise."
The doors to the medical wing swung violently when Damia walked out. Her head was held high, her shoulders back. There was meaning in her stride as she walked down the halls, her hazel eyes glinting malicously.
As the doors slid open the lights flickered on, bathing the arsenal in light. Shelf upon shelf was filled withguns, knives, swords, explosives, and pretty much any other kind of weapon imaginable. The room was very well organized; sharp pointy objects, dull things for beating, things that go 'bang,' and lastly, things that go 'boom.'
Damia strolled the aisles as if she were grocery shopping. She avoided the gun section, knowing that Magneto would have no problem disarming her if she had one with her. She was drawn to the swords and sharp objects. Selecting only one blade, long and light. It was metallic and Magneto would be able to use that against her but she didn't care.
Along with the sword she picked out a night stick. It wouldn't do much damage but at least it wasn't metal. She packed a small bag with dynamite, flash grenades, gas grenades, and a few other explosives. Damia also packed in a knife, rope, and a flashlight. She knew it was all a little much but it was better than going in there unprepared.
After getting her equipment together she changed into her formfitting leather suit, bearing the X-men symbol on the belt. After one last check to make sure she had everything, Damia grabbed a set of keys and left the mansion.
It was several hours later after a car ride from Westchester to the marina and a lengthy boat ride. The boat was bobbing slightly on the calmed waves. The wall of the island rose to Damia's immediate left, it was a sheer wall of rock.
While keeping the ocean still she shifted the cliff wall. Slowly a makeshift stair formed, leading up for several hundred feet. She stepped out of the boat and onto the first step. Quickly she tied the boat to a rock, hoping it would still be in once piece when she returned.
Damia hurried up the stairs, her feet making very little noise as they hit the rough steps. The salty sea air blew against her and she could feel her legs tire from the unaccustomed climb but she ignored it and pressed on.
It seemed like hours had passed when she finally reached the top, her legs were sore and she was a little tired from the steep incline. With one wave of her hand the rocky steps shifted back to their usual places in the cliff wall.
The top of the island was barren and rocky, large boulders protruding here and there. Damia realized she that there had to be security cameras but she didn't know where. Maybe if I shift the seasons I can get it to snow and they'll get covered. Damia thought at length of how she would getby them unnoticed.
She was about to conjure a wind and a drop of temperature when she heard the distant sounds of a helicopter. It was approaching fast and she almost didn't get the rock morphed in time.
As the aircraft landed, Damia was hiding inside a large boulder. It wrapped around her and completely covered her except for a small peep-hole. She watched as the ground moved with a loud complaining creak which hid the sounds of mechanics. The helicopter slowly lowered into the hole in the ground and Damia took that as her chance.
Her hiding place changed and she dashed out towards the now closing gap. As she ran she influenced the wind and it followed her down the hole as she dived in. The wind she had fabricated suspended her just below where the hatch doors were. Below her the helicopter's engine had been cut, the blades slowing down. The corners of the hangar were filled with various crates and boxes.
The slowly dying wind carried Damia swiftlyto acorner and she ducked behind a crate, unseen. A blue, scaly woman climbed out of the helicopter and was followed closely by a scared looking man. Damia recognized him as Senator Kelly, the man who wanted to pass the Mutant Registration Act. The two of them left and Damia was about to follow when there movement from the helicopter.
She sank back just as someone hopped out of the pilot's seat. Damia's heart soared at the sight of a short man with green-brown hair and sallow skin. Mortimer was looking at the helicopter with disapproval. He mumbled under his breath as he retrieved some tools from the top of a crate on the other side of the room and began to work on the aircraft.
Damia was torn. Part of her wanted to call out to him, to be in the same room as him. The other part of her wanted to stay true to the promise she made the ailing Professor. Biting her lip, Damia looked from the door of the hangar to Toad and back again. Finally she made up her mind.
Stealthily, Damia dashed to the cover of the next box. She paused, straining her ears for a sound from Mortimer, any pause in his repairs that might suggest he had noticed something. She peeked out from between two boxes and saw that he was still absorbed by his task.
Heart pounding, Damia moved onto the next set of containers before pausing and listening again. This carried on for a few minutes until she was at the final stretch. The door was about twenty feet away, so close she could feel the knob in her hands. She got ready to move, listening for a cease in the clinks of the tools against the helicopter parts. She was about to run, just coming out of the crouching position when the door opened.
Damia's heart nearly jumped out of her mouth as she fell back, imaginary hands pulling her back to the safety and cover of the crates. She silently scooted around the side of the wooden box so whoever came through the door wouldn't see her.
"Toad," a loud, ferocious voice called. Damia peggedit as Sabretooth the cat-man. "Magneto wants to speak to you." No response. "What are you looking at," the voice growled.
"None of your bloody business you wanker," roared and angry, heavily accented voice. "Tell old Mags I'll talk to him when I'm pissing done!" The sound of the metal tools against the helicopter parts started again but stopped just as soon. "What are you still doing here? Piss off!"
Damia distinctly heard an animal sniffing. "I smell something," Sabretooth growled, still smelling the air. "It smells like flowers."
Her eyes clamped shut and she held her breath as the footsteps neared her. She concentrated on making the slightest of breezes to carry her scent away, in hopes of distracting the beastly man. Something else beat her to the punch.
"Oy! Are you deaf? I told you to bloody PISS OFF!" As the angry British accent finished shouting out his last word a dull clunk filled the hangar, closely followed by a loud roar.
Sabretooth had suddenly lost interest in the flowery smell and his footsteps were thumping away towards the helicopter. Damia could hear him snarl incoherent words and she saw him between a small gap in the boxes. He picked Toad up by the collar and roughly pushed him against the wall. Toad merely laughed at the cat-man, much to his misfortune.
Sabretooth's free hand clenched into a fist before it came into contact with Mortimer's face. Damia winced and turned away, trying with all her might to keep her powers in check. She heard a soft thud when Sabretooth let the little green man fall to the floor before storming out of the room.
The door closed and Damia peeked around the corner of her hiding place to make sure he was really gone. When she saw that no one was there she swiftly came out of the cover of the box and walked to the slumped figure.
His eyes were closed as he leaned against the landing skids of the helicopter, a small trickle of blood could be seen in the corner of his mouth. As Damia knelt down beside him his black eyes opened and he looked into the hazel voids of her eyes. For a moment neither of them said anything.
"I'm sorry," Damia finally whispered, looking away.
Mortimer snorted. "S'not your fault. I'm the one who threw the wrench at the stupid git. At least it was better than a slap in the face with a wet kipper."
Damia smiled weakly as she looked back at him. She silently reached out and very gently wiped the blood from his lip, her pale hand skimming his clammy skin in the process. All she could manage to say was, "Thank you, Mort."
Surprised by the abrupt contact he just stared at her for a moment. He could see the genuine concern in her hazel eyes and felt his insides melt.
"Don't worry about it," he said waving his hand. "What brings you back anyway? Couldn't get enough of my charm?" He smiled at her smugly and Damia laughed a little despite the seriousness of her situation.
"I'm here to get Rogue." She hesitated before continuing. "The Professor was going to send some of the X-men butsomething went wrong when he tried to use Cerebro and now he's incapacitated."
"You mean more than before," asked Toad jokingly.
Damia ignored his comment and continued. "Since no one else knows where this rock is I decided to come out and her get her myself."
His black eyes widened at her. "You're telling me you're here alone? Bloody hell, you must be suicidal."
"No," Damia sighed. "I left on a guilt trip. Its my fault he's laid up, if I had gotten Rogue before, then maybe..." she trailed off and looked down at one of her rings, a Celtic knot.
"Why feel so guilty," he asked with authentic curiosity.
Damia took a deep breath. "Well my parents kicked me out when I was fifteen, that was when they first found out about my mutation. I had managed to hide ituntil then, the only reason they noticed was because my cat almost got hit by a car and somehow a chunk of the road mysteriously shot up out of the ground, saving him. Anyway they were disgusted by me and threw me out. Well, left me stranded in the woods is more like it.
"I lived in those same woods for couple of years, surviving by using my powers. After awhile I stumbled across a town where awidow took me in. She had me work in her flower shop. I grew the flowers. And to make a long story short, she died and Charles Xavier found me."
"I grew up in an orphanage," Toad said quietly."Once I was old enough I left and lived on the street, rolling drunks. Magneto found me and took me in. He's like a father to me, even if he is a loonyold fart."
"Yeah, I know the feeling. Charles is like a father to me, even if I have only known him for a few weeks." Damia could feel the tears stinging her eyes. "I had to come to get Rogue, to make it up to him." She wiped a tear away and began to study her ring again, the intricate pattern calling all her attention.
Damia was surprised when her hand was covered by one with a green hue. She looked up at Mortimer who now held her hand and she had the vague suspicion that he had never made physical contact with anyone before, unless killing them. Her lips curled into a grateful smile when she felt the clammy skin against her own. It was a feeling she had longed for since she first met him.
"Damia, I can't help you this time. Magneto already thinks I'm sabbin' his plans," Mortimer looked into her eyes somberly. "All I can do is turn my back while you walk out that door. After that you're on your own."
Damia nodded and smiled at him. "Thanks, Mort," she said as she leaned forward and hugged him. She surprised the both of them. Toad tensed slightly and Damia pulled back, sensing his discomfort.
She stood up and hurried out of the room, once again, leaving Mortimer in awe.
Ah, there we go. Nice and long with plenty of the gushy stuff. I hope I didn't go too overboard with Mort, though. His personality kinda limits how much lovey-dovey stuff you can put in one chapter.