BNW 6/?
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12:30
"Just relax, Doctor. We'll deliver the package in a few more minutes and be on our way back home. Then you can get your sight back." The pilot assured Claire as she waited in the rear of the chartered jet. She adjusted her dark sunglasses and allowed herself a grin only when he'd turned back to his instruments.
That's what you think...
Despite what she'd done her best to make everyone else believe, Claire had never allowed the other med-staff at the Agency to give her the corneal cloak as they'd been ordered to do. Since she was the inventor of the drops, she had provided the technician with the bottle, which had been nothing more than sterilized water, then swiftly produced the sunglasses she currently sported and slipped them on. Noone at her end had been any the wiser, and by the time the Official had checked her sight, which she had known he would, she had inserted a set of contacts designed to fool him. The contacts had come out during a trip to the plane's restroom halfway through their flight, but she had allowed the pilot to lead her back to her seat and belt her in as though nothing had changed.
Within a few minutes, the plane's door opened and Claire watched the pilot approach her, intending to take the small box she was gripping fiercely in both hands. Instead of the simple task he was anticipating, however, he received a full dose of sedative from the hypodermic Claire had been secreting in her pocket.
"Doctor.. what the..."
"You didn't even search me, silly man. Next time you'll know better than to be so trusting, won't you?" she told him grimly, rising and moving toward the door, the vital package still in her possession. The pilot collapsed slowly across the space Claire had been occupying, most of his body conveniently disappearing from view behind the next pair of seats. She studied him briefly, decided it would have to suffice and straightened her spine, bracing herself to tell one or two enormous lies and do it better than she ever had before.
When she heard footsteps approaching the plane and saw a set of stairs being fitted below the open hatchway, she smiled brightly and briefly touched the strap of the undetectable, but heavy, pack that lay under her clothes. She sighed quietly in relief when she found that the recessed switch hadn't shifted at all during the journey and was still in easy reach.
Claire tensed momentarily when someone started up the stairs, but forced herself to relax. A moment later, a roughly handsome man, with hair that reminded her of Darien's typical wild mass of locks, approached and spoke quietly to alert her he was near, unaware that she could see him as clearly as he saw her.
"Morning."
"Oh! Hello."
"Didn't mean to scare you."
"No, it's... it's quite alright. It's so hard to judge the distance of a person from the sound of footsteps..."
"I can imagine. That the package?" he asked, laying a gentle hand on the box.
"Yes. Please, take care with it. It's extremely delicate." She warned Logan, making sure to fumble a little as she transferred the item into his hands, cementing her uncertainty with the situation in his mind.
"I promise it'll get where it's going safely. Have a good trip home."
"Yes, you as well." Claire responded as Logan turned to walk back to where his team waited. Once he'd reached the bottom of the stairs, Claire reached up and touched the switch on the harness over her right shoulder. A moment later, silver fluid washed over her and she vanished. Kicking off her shoes, she swiftly moved down the stairs before they could be removed and followed the stranger toward and then onto his own plane.
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XAVIER INSTITUTE: 1:15
When they returned home, Rogue was the last one off the plane, reluctantly unbuckling her safety harness and moving down the stairs. At the airport, Logan had allowed her to stand guard near the plane's ramp, watching for trouble. This had almost given her more pleasure than simply being in the jet, but now the ride was over and she pouted a little at having to return to the reality of homework and not being any more special than the rest of the teenagers around her. Storm caught the young woman's expression and laid an arm around her shoulders as they re-entered the school proper.
"The ride was not long enough, was it, little one?"
"Not by half."
"There will be more flights, I promise you that. For today, however..."
"I know, I know. Homework..."
Storm laughed softly.
"Your studies are preparing you for a larger role in the work of the institute, Rogue. If you show the professor you can handle the responsibilities you are given now, he will know he can trust you when it comes time for you to take your place among the X-men."
Rogue lit up at the thought of being able to work and fight alongside the adults every day.
"Yeah! I want that. I really do..."
"Well then, perhaps if you keep your mind on that goal, homework will not seem like so much of a hardship?"
Rogue grimaced.
"Maybe... everything but math."
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SAN DIEGO, CA: THIRTY MINUTES LATER
"Yeah, boss?"
"Sit down, Bobby."
Hobbes sat cautiously, knowing that when the Official used his first name it was never good news.
"Is it Fawkes? He isn't... he didn't get worse, did he?"
"No. Thankfully, he's stabilized. He's still contagious, so they can't release him yet, but he'll recover. This is about you."
"Yeah? Well, can we make it quick? I'm takin' over that surveillance at twelve-thirty an' I wanted to grab somethin' to eat before..."
"This won't take long. You need to stop talking about what's happened to Darien. The others are starting to worry about getting sick themselves. Worried agents are distracted agents..."
"... and distracted agents are dead agents, I know the spiel. You can't blame me here, boss. All I did was answer questions. They were bound to wonder where he went an' you didn't say not to tell the truth..."
"I'm saying it now. If the subject comes up, you're to stick with 'No comment' or 'No new information' Is that clear?"
"Yeah... crystal."
"Good. Go get your lunch."
"Boss... could we get sick? I mean... if it's possible, we got a right to know..."
"It isn't. Dismissed, Hobbes."
"Back to the last name. Guess everything really is status quo..." Bobby mumbled as he left the office. Just outside, he stopped, however, thinking and shuffling facts in his considerable mind. "He's screwed with the truth before. Maybe I'll do a little research... see what I can find out about how Fawkes got sick in the first place..."
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XAVIER INSTITUTE: 6:35 P.M.
Darien sat at a table by himself, as far from the rest of the dinner crowd as he could get. He stared at the plate in front of him, which still contained most of the food he'd chosen half an hour ago, frowned and huffed out an irritated breath. When he heard Xavier's chair approaching, he gratefully turned to greet him, pushing aside the remains of his meal.
"Good evening Mr. Fawkes. Not hungry?"
"Nah. I guess I'm still waking up or settling down... or something. My body just doesn't want food right now."
"Understandable. Hopefully your system will find breakfast more appealing."
"Yeah. I hope so too. What's up? Did you need to ask me something?"
"If you feel up to it, I've arranged a meeting in my office. It will just be you, myself and two or three others. It won't last long, I assure you."
"Okay." Darien agreed, rising to his feet and falling in beside the older man. "What's it about, anyway?"
"I want you to meet the people you'll be working with and begin to get to know them. Before this mission can proceed, it's essential that you see and understand their abilities... and that they are afforded the same opportunity."
Darien halted in his tracks. Xavier turned around to face him.
"Wait... you want me to... I'm just supposed to... show them? That's not such a good idea. What if they freak out?"
"Please believe me, Mr. Fawkes, very little in this world can shock my people anymore. They might be pleasantly surprised, but I assure you there will be no screaming and fainting. In fact, I suspect the only one shocked will be you."
"Oh, yeah? Why's that?"
"After years of feeling as if one is an aberration who will never truly belong... unconditional acceptance can be a bit traumatic." Xavier explained, spinning his chair again and continuing down the corridor toward the elevator. Darien stared after him, puzzlement dominating his expression, then ran to catch up, aware that without a guide his unerring instinct for trouble and adventure would undoubtedly lead him in a very dangerous direction.
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XAVIER'S OFFICE: TEN MINUTES LATER
"Darien Fawkes, I'd like to introduce you to a few of our faculty here at the institute. They are also my closest friends. This is Ororo, known as Storm. Next to her is Scott Summers, or Cyclops. Jean Grey you've already met and the man in the chair on her right is your temporary roommate, Logan, though in most situations he prefers to be called Wolverine."
"Whatever he prefers is fine with me." Darien replied, barely managing not to make his words squeak.
Logan grinned and shot back a response that put everyone, including the newcomer, more at ease.
"Don't worry about me, kid. Unless you really annoy me the worst I'll do is mark my territory and leave scratches in the furniture."
"I don't snore and I always put my dirty clothes in the hamper."
"We'll do fine, then."
Xavier released a nearly silent breath, relieved that the two men had gotten through their first encounter without any violence, physical or verbal. He turned to Storm and encouraged her to tell Darien a little about what her abilities entailed. One by one, the others either demonstrated, or described their own personal mutation and what it allowed them to do. Darien sat enthralled, absorbing every word. Finally, Xavier spoke to him.
"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Fawkes... I believe it's your turn."
"On one condition. Call me Darien, okay? Hearing 'Mr. Fawkes' all the time makes me feel like I'm ready for a rest home."
"Darien it is then. If you're ready..."
Slowly, Darien got to his feet, tossing the room in general a shaky smile. Breathing deeply, he triggered the singularly unique gland at the base of his brain and felt the icy substance it generated began to flow over his skin. He heard one or two of the others gasp softly, but, as Xavier had promised, the extreme reaction the young man had feared never took place. After a minute or two, he shed the Quicksilver and it flaked off, falling to the floor like handfuls of silver glitter and disappearing almost instantly.
"My word..." Xavier murmured.
"Yeah... that about covers it." Scott added. Jean leaned across him and spoke to Storm.
"What we were talking about at dinner.... you said you'd have a better idea once you saw him in person. Well?"
Storm smiled gently.
"I have the perfect name."
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TBC....
Next chapter, we find out who came out on top regarding the "Darien's X-name" question I put out there so long ago.... Sorry it took this long, but I write in, like, twelve fandoms people! Sometimes one of them traps me for a while. lol. See you tomorrow!