Notes: This chapter contains an original mutant character. Beware. I've also played with people's ages some, but I see no problem with that. Rogue DID first come to the X-Men practically a kid, but no one remembers that. Hopefully the movie people researched and did that on purpose. I haven't done a certain mutant in a while, my French accent is rusty…
Chapter 5: Just A Thought Away
"Welcome to Telepathic Conditioning, Nate. This is a required class for all students, since all telepaths aren't as well meaning as you are. We try to teach the students how to build up their mental defenses, and be familiar with their mindscapes as possible. Of course, there are precious few telepaths here, so we only expect so much from them. You, however…"
Nate glanced down at Illyana and frowned. "Um…with all due respect, Jean…I don't think I should be here."
"Oh? Why is that?" Jean asked.
"First, telepaths don't come much more defensive than me. Second…I'd rather not embarrass you in front of Illyana. Third…I really don't wanna end up hurting you."
Jean arched an eyebrow. "Are you trying to say you're too advanced for this class?"
"No. I'm saying if anyone's gonna mess with my head, I'd prefer it be the Professor. You might not be able to handle me, all kidding aside."
"Okay. Let's try something different, then." Jean thought for a few seconds. "Do you know how to create a psychic rapport?"
Nate blinked slowly. "…I know how to make a psychic link, if that's the same thing."
"Not quite. A link is pretty simple by comparison, since it only transmits thoughts. A rapport is both telepathic and empathic in nature."
"That, I've never done," Nate admitted. "I've never met someone I felt that comfortable with, anyway."
"That's…unfortunate." Jean smiled. "But since you do know about links, why not try one with…Illyana?"
Illyana perked up at the mention of her name. "I get to help?" she asked excitedly.
"Hey, hold on," Nate said, looking uncomfortable. "Simple or not, a link is serious business. I don't wanna do it if Yana doesn't want-"
"I wanna help, Nate!" Illyana insisted, tugging on his hand.
"You have a volunteer," Jean observed. "If the link ever becomes a problem, we can always remove it."
Nate sighed in defeat and knelt before Illyana. "Look, Yana. I want you to really think about this. If I do this, you'll have to get used to hearing me in your head."
Illyana shrugged. "I like your voice."
Nate smiled. ~"It's a little different like this, though."~
Illyana frowned in confusion. ~"How? I can still hear you. It's just louder and clearer this way."~
Nate blinked in shock. ~"You…you've done this before?"~
~"No. What makes you think that?"~
"Um…I think we're ready," Nate muttered in disbelief. "You might wanna hold onto something, Yana."
"Okay." Illyana picked up Miko and hugged him tight. "Ready!"
Nate chuckled. "Maybe you'd better sit down, too."
Illyana sat down in a nearby chair. "Now can we start?"
"That depends. Do you trust me?"
"Sure I do, silly!"
"Okay." Nate cupped Illyana's face in his hands. "Think of something that makes you happy."
With a mere thought, Nate found himself inside Illyana's mind. It was just what he'd imagined: bright, swirling colors and happy music.
The first thing he did was search for any pre-existing links that creating a new one might disturb. He found a low-level empathic one with Piotr, but that was nothing strange between siblings. Strangely, there was also a pretty strong one with her stuffed bear, Miko. Children did sometimes place a great deal of importance on their toys, but even that wouldn't have explained the strength of this link. Nate wasn't even sure he could undo it, though he didn't really see a reason to. He could safely establish a new link without harming the others.
Within a few seconds, Nate had created a very basic telepathic link. It was nothing fancy, but it would allow them to communicate over long distances, even if one of them were unconscious. Hopefully, it would never come to that, but Nate wasn't going to risk something bad happening to Illyana and being unable to track her down.
"Okay, we're done," he said gently, lowering his hands. "How do you feel, Yana?"
"All tingly," she replied, rubbing her arms. "Is it supposed to tickle?"
"Compared to what it has done in others, be glad that's all it did," Nate chuckled. "You don't hurt anywhere, do you?"
Illyana shook her head. "Should I?"
"No, but if you did, that'd be a sign I did something wrong."
She smiled up at him. "I know you'd never hurt me, Nate."
Something like pain flashed across his face, but it was gone instantly. "Listen, Yana," he said softly, picking her up. "I'm glad you trust me and all, but…sometimes people you care about hurt you, without really meaning to. It's not that they don't care…sometimes they care too much. I guess what I'm trying to say is…well…"
"If you ever hurt me, that you're sorry in advance?" she guessed.
Nate smiled weakly. "Um…yeah. Exactly."
Illyana patted his cheek and laid her head on his shoulder. "Okay. I forgive you. Miko does, too."
"Glad to know that," Nate sighed, resting his chin on her head. "Really glad to know that, Yana."
Neither of them seemed to notice the concerned look on Jean's face as she left the room in a hurry.
* * * * *
Charles Xavier couldn't help swallowing noisily as the shadow of Apocalypse fell over him. Though they had never met before, Xavier couldn't deny the fact that just a hologram of the powerful mutant sent chills racing down his spine. If he was anything like Nate's description of him, that fear was probably justified.
A low chuckle escaped the mouth of Apocalypse as he reached forward, his arm and hand growing in size, easily dwarfing Xavier as the fingers began to close around him…
"That's the third time today, Professor," Storm's voice reminded him from the control room, as the hologram began to fade. "I fail to see how this is helping you."
"The ability to face one's fears is a strength, Storm. And believe me when I say there are few things that frighten me more than the visage of this…Apocalypse."
"If what Nate said is true, just projecting images of him could be dangerous. I wish you would stop this."
"That is impossible. If I would best suit Apocalypse's plans as a corpse, it's best to do as much as I can before he sees a need to make Nate's past a reality here." He smiled grimly. "Even as a telepath, I doubted my importance on this planet. To know that the entire world could fall into darkness with my death…"
"Doesn't make you feel quite as small?" Jean asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Something like that, yes," Xavier replied, giving her hand a light squeeze. "Is something troubling you, Jean?"
"I'm afraid that what Nate may not be telling us…might be one of the most important things about his past."
Xavier chuckled. "I could hardly force the boy to let me scan his mind, even if I wanted to."
"I know, he's too strong. But I know he's hiding something, Charles. I can feel it every time I look at him. I have a bad feeling it has something to do with your death in his world—like maybe he had something to do with it?"
"That is a…strong accusation, Jean. One I hope you have some proof of."
"Of course not! Do you think he'd still BE here if I knew he was responsible for-"
"Jean," Xavier interrupted. "Calm yourself." ~"And thank you for your unwavering loyalty to me."~
She smiled down at him. ~"I owe you too much, Professor."~ "But let's look at this logically. You are, by no means, a weakling. It stands to reason that it would take an incredible power—most likely a mutant one—to kill you. And we've already established that Nate is stronger than you…"
"I have…actually considered that possibility," Xavier admitted. "But I have no reason to doubt anything Nate has told us. I know very well he hasn't told us everything…but he has not lied. Aside from that, since he was born during the Age of Apocalypse, in order to kill me, he would have to be able to travel back through time."
"I wouldn't put it past him just yet…"
"I was under the impression that you liked him, Jean?" Xavier asked, looking puzzled.
"I DO, actually. Maybe that's why I want to clear up any mysteries right away, so I can relax around him. But there's just so much we don't know, and even more he won't tell us."
"He may, when he's ready. For now, we must let him come to us."
* * * * *
Logan had no regrets about taking his entire Phys. Ed. Class up to the War Room. If they were going to get attacked by some double-ugly mutant, he wanted the kids to know what they were getting beaten up by at the very least. Then they might have some chance of holding it off until he got there.
But, of course, kids would be kids.
"Like, ew," was Jubilee's rather fitting response to seeing an image of Holocaust. "Where's the rest of him?"
Logan shrugged. "Ya got me, kid. Don't think I'd wanna ask, personally."
"Wow. Just think, Nate actually whipped this guy…"
A chorus of "Wow!"s and "Really?!"s sprang up at once, and everyone jostled to get closer to Jubilee.
"Oh, I forgot. You guys weren't there for the meeting."
"Meeting?" Marie demanded, shooting a look at Logan. "What meeting?!"
"A *secret* meeting?" Bobby asked.
"It wasn't secret, everyone just wasn't invited to listen in," Jubilee pointed out. "Anyway, Nate spilled the beans on where he came from, how he got here, and why he's here."
"So SPILL already, Jubes!" Kitty encouraged.
"Is he really dangerous like they said?" Theresa asked.
"Who, Nate? No way! He gives Yana piggyback rides, for cryin' out loud!"
"He's staying in your ROOM?!" Bobby cried in alarm.
"NO! Piotr's his roomie, you perv!"
"Wait, wait," Marie said. "So that 'Window Boy' Yana was goin' on about is him? When did THAT happen?!"
Jubilee rolled her eyes. "You are, like, so uninformed, Roguey. Doesn't Logan tell you ANYTHING?"
Interestingly enough, when Marie turned to glare at Logan again, he was long gone.
* * * * *
Several hundred miles away, a hot dog vendor named Marge Wilson decided she was having a very good day, and not just because of all the big tips, either. There was something about putting a huge smile on a hungry kid's face that never seemed to get old or tiring, even though Marge was pushing 67 herself.
It was around noon when she spotted the young boy. He looked to be somewhere between 12 and 16 years old, but she couldn't narrow it down any more than that. He wore a black T-shirt, dirty blue jeans, and sneakers that had seen better days. Clearly, he'd been on his own for some time, from the way he watched people go by. There was a kind of sneaky wisdom in his red on black eyes that Marge just didn't like to see in children. This was a child that knew the best ways to slip a wallet out of a pocket, or a money pouch out of a purse.
Despite that, when he had "gathered" enough money, Marge would give him a genuine footlong, no questions asked. If the boy had to resort to stealing to feed himself, who was she to starve him? If anything, she felt sorry for the poor little guy. She wasn't rich herself, but she'd never had to beg or steal to get a hot meal. Maybe she could point him toward a local shelter, if he would even agree to go.
Marge watched the boy work his magic for nearly two hours, carefully slipping in and out of the pedestrian traffic. She found it amusing that although she never actually saw any money or wallets in his hands, he had clearly been successful.
Finally, he wandered over to her cart, looking bashful and uncertain.
"Hungry, luv?" she asked him with a bright smile.
"Four wit da works," he muttered with an accent that she couldn't place.
"Comin' right up, dear," she promised.
He leaned against the cart, trying to look tough and uninterested as she prepared his order.
Marge laughed to herself and soon had the four dogs ready. "Anything else, luv?"
He shook his head, his eyes totally focused on the food before him.
"Got enough to pay for 'em all?" she asked, teasing him.
He looked insulted, thinking she was serious. Before he could reply, a loud voice startled them both.
"ROBBIE!!!"
The boy spun around, his hands frozen in the act of reaching for the hot dogs.
A taller girl wearing a red and black duster ran up, a furious look on her face. "There you are!" She grabbed the boy's arm. "I've been looking all OVER for you! Don't you EVER do that to me again!" She fell to her knees and pulled him into a rough hug. "Mom would never forgive me if anything happened to you!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.
"He yours?" Marge asked.
The girl looked up and smiled weakly. "Yes. Oh, thank you for just BEING here! If he hadn't stopped and seen your cart, someone might've…oh, just THANK YOU!" She jumped up and shook Marge's hand vigorously. "If there's anything I can do to repay you…?"
"Just puttin' some food into the wee dear is enough, luv," Marge replied.
"Oh, goodness. Did he order all THIS?!" she asked, staring at the four hot dogs in shock. "Robbie, shame on you!"
The boy ducked behind his sister and clung to her legs.
"Now, now, it's fine, dear," Marge reassured her. "I was half-planning to give 'em up for free, no need to fuss at 'im. A boy's got to eat, after all."
"You're sure? I'm sure I could give you something…" The girl began to root through her pockets.
"Oh, luv, don't bother," Marge insisted. "Go on ahead, take 'em."
"Thank goodness for people like you!" The girl threw her arms around Marge. "Thank you SO much!"
"Aw, it's nothin' at all, luv, nothin' at all. You two run along now, and take care of yourselves, hear?"
The girl continued to wave her thanks until they rounded a corner. Then she sighed and brushed the tear stains from her face. "How'd you do?"
"Sixty-one even," he replied, patting his pocket. "You?"
"Three times that much. Slow day?"
"Ol' one watchin' de whole time. Couldn't get too much."
"You got us dinner, Remy. You won't hear me complaining." She tousled his brown hair fondly.
He pushed her hand away. "Ease up, chere. Remy know he hard to resist, but at least try, non?"
She grinned at him. "Might just have to push you down and ravage you right here, Cajun. You're getting kinda cute."
"Remy wish he could say he'd fight you, chere. But dat be one fight Remy don' mind losin'."
She laughed out loud as they reached a sky blue van parked in an alley. "Just get in the van, Frenchie. Our little ones are probably starving by now."
"Musty! Petite! You hungry?" Remy called as he climbed into the passenger's seat.
There was a grunt from a hulking, shadowy figure in the back of the van, but no other reply.
"Ah, good ol' Musty always hungry, non? Got good grub t'day, mon ami." Remy passed two hot dogs to the huge, white fur-covered paw that reached out to him. "She up yet?"
A negative grunt, followed by much loud chewing.
"Oh, hey, guess what, Musty?" the older girl said. "You're in the news again." She drew a newspaper out of her duster and passed it to Remy, who scrambled over his seat and into the roomy rear of the van.
Remy read aloud from the paper. "'Wendigo Terrorizes Canadian Campers: Wildlife Authorities Baffled By Attacks'. Ain't dat a hoot, Musty? We ain't even IN da frozen north no more. Maybe you got family out dere, eh?"
A rather doubtful grunt, accompanied by a bit of loud scratching.
"Ugh. Say, chere? You t'ink we can stop at a car wash soon? Ol' Musty, he gettin' a bit ripe."
She smirked. "If another guy can smell him, he's WAY past ripe, Remy. We'll stop in a minute."
Remy turned his attention to a rough, off-white object that resembled a huge egg. "Don't you worry, petite," he said in a soothing voice, running his fingers gently over the hard shell. "Remy be right here when you come out. Den we get you somethin' real nice, hear?"
Wanda Maximoff sighed inwardly and adjusted her rear-view mirror. "Strap in, gang," she said, starting the engine. "We're off!"
The sky blue van rumbled to life, shuddered oddly, and suddenly darkened to a forest green color as it backed out of the alley, straightened itself, and zoomed down the street.