A/N: Thanks to my 2 reviewers, lol. You guys rock! And kudos MeWhoExactlyWhat for catching on to my Spiderman references--there are a few pepper through the story! Oh well, I've written this story for my own benefit. It'll be fun, worry not! There will also be romance and intrigue and all that good stuff later on. As of now, Enjoy!
Seeking Solace
Chapter 2
Dear Mom:
I'm sorry I haven't written in forever, but you understand that because of my lack of funds and my aversion for cheating the government in exchange of payment, that I wasn't able to grab a new journal.
I think that someone might find it creepy that I still write letters to you in these journals. I remember when I was little and I told you that I didn't want to write down my nightmares. You told me to pretend I was just writing a letter to you, and that way, I could write it without having to worry. It was for you Mom, and you always had a way of making me feel safe. Maybe it's childish to want that safety now, after all I've seen and done, but I still want it. I still need it.
Especially since I'm all alone now.
I promise you this, I will find Peter. No matter what I have to do, no matter where I have to go, no matter who I have to go through...
But you wouldn't want me to hurt anyone, would you Mom? No, you'd tell me that hurting other people is wrong, like you used to do when I got into fights back home with neighborhood kids. I was only trying to protect Pete, who was so friendly and trusting... Do you remember how they would throw rocks at him Mom? I do. And I remember how I bloodied that boy's nose one day when he tried climbing the fence into our yard. You yelled at me then. What would you say about me now?
I try not to think about it. Try not to think about you too much, because then I'll just start to cry. Like I do every time I think about Peter. Like I am right now, as I write this to you in a vacant and dark kitchen.
I miss you Mom. I miss your advice and your guidance. If you were still here, we would still be a family, the three of us. But, if it hadn't been for me, you would still be here. Sometimes I think it would have been better if I had died, or if I had never been born at all. Peter and you would have been happy, wouldn't you?
I know what you would say. You'd say that's selfish talk about what could have been. I can't change the fact that I'm here. I can't change the past, so I shouldn't want to so badly. There are some things beyond the control of even us mutants. I wish it wasn't, Mom. I wish I could go back more than anything.
I know I can't. I can't wash the blood from my hands anymore than you could. But I can give you this much.
I promise I will find Peter and that we will be a family again.
I promise I will never become what I was when I was with DeVero.
I promise I will be a better person, and do what's right instead of what's right now.
Most of all, Mom, I promise that I will never abuse my powers again. You always said they were a Gift, and that I should respect them. I respect them now, Mom. Though it may be too late for that.
I'm on a trail to find Pete. I came to this school, the school from my dreams. The Professor here, a man named Charles Xavier, has given me an opportunity. If I stay here at the school, he'll help me find Peter. What else could I do, Mom, but accept? It's a sweet deal though. The mansion boarding school is bitchin'...very nice. Though the people here leave something to be desired. I guess I shouldn't complain.
What was that? You want to know about the people? Okay, I'll start from the beginning...
When I finished telling my story to Xavier, he just gave me a pensive stare. I didn't tell him the whole story of course. I didn't tell him about everything DeVero did to me, or what I did for him. I told the basic truth. I told him about my mother, about my brother, and about the man who adopted me and made me call him 'Father'. Maybe it's a lie of omission to leave out certain details, but I just met the man, and with the exception of my brother, I have never trusted a man in my life.
I also explained to him the technicalities of my powers. My prophetic dreams, my cat-like eyesight, and the other element of my powers. I can create matter with thought. It began when I was young, when I would dream about something and when I'd wake up in the morning, it would be in bed with me. In my waking hours, for many years, all I could create were illusions. A thin veil of matter that would dissolve if touched or disappear after a certain period of time. Now I can create some permanently, using only my mind.
It has unnerved people in the past, especially the people who used to work for my adopted father. Andrew DeVero, the devil incarnate, loved making me perform for his friends. It was both a threat and a promise. Do what I say, or I can make the girl kill you. Believe me, a murder weapon would never be found.
I wish I could say that was the worst I was forced to do in the five years I was with him, but it's not. It's not even close.
So I didn't tell Xavier everything that was in my heart, or in my head. As I suspected, he promised never to look into my brain without permission. Frankly, I wouldn't really care if he did. He'd see a lot of ugly memories, a lot of ugly feelings, and know that I am a very ugly girl. No secret.
I was not here for help. I can control my powers and have most of my life apart from the occasionally dream-spawned creation. I did not come here for tutoring or training. I could fight. I was smart. The only reason I was here was so that Charles Xavier would keep his end of the bargain and help me find my brother.
Still, he set down the rules for me point blank.
"Seeing as how you will be living under my roof, Ms. Watson," he commented, steepling his hands and looking at me with a level brown gaze. "I think you should know that there are a set of limitations."
"I expected as much," I said calmly. There were few things that I couldn't live with and I doubted this man would force any of them upon me.
"You will have one of the rooms here. There is a ten o'clock curfew on school nights, and a midnight curfew on weekends. You need to be on the grounds by that time, preferably inside the mansion as the doors will be locked after that. You are not permitted to use your powers in public. Seeing as your physical features are altered, I'm sure we could find you something--"
"I have contacts," I interrupted. "Colored contacts. My foster father used to have me wear them when I was in public with him, if I couldn't wear sunglasses. I just...don't like them that much."
Xavier nodded, a slight smile on his face. I was semi-comfortable in his presence, but not so much that I'd lax my guard. To many years of training, too many years lived in fear, taught me not to underestimate anyone. No matter how much you wanted to trust them.
"You will also be required to attend school when it starts next week," he pointed out.
I faltered. "I've n-never been to a s-school b-before!" When I got angry or scared, I had the tendency to stutter. Something that embarrassed me endlessly in my younger years. I didn't stutter often anymore.
"The other students can walk you through it," he said with his same good-humored expression.
That's when it hit me. I would be living in a boarding school filled with other teenagers, other mutants. Eating, sleeping, sharing a bathroom, going to school with...I would be in a crowd of people the entire time I was here! Let me just say that my enthusiasm dropped several points thanks to that revelation.
"I've g-got one question," I said in a small voice. I was looking at my hands, fingers shaking in my lap. "Will my door be locked at night?"
Xavier looked me over, I could feel his gaze. "Of course not. The mansion is free to you at all times, apart from the lower levels. Though it is expected that you turn in at a decent hour on school nights."
I smiled slightly, fixing him with my over version of a yellow gaze. "I only sleep two ours a night, Prof. Unless I wear out my powers, then it's six."
He returned my smile. "Well, then I think you will enjoy our library."
"Probably."
"Come, I will introduce you around," Xavier announced, wheeling around from behind his desk to where I was getting up. "The rest of the students should be lounging around. Dinner was served an hour ago. Are you hungry?"
I shook my head, despite the hollowness of my stomach. "I'd rather get the meet-and-greet over with, if you don't mind."
"Not at all," he said good-naturedly. And then we were out of his office, heading down the hallway. I placed my sunglasses back on, more out of habit than anything. I hated when people stared. When I was with DeVero, I was a background, a shadow. I could blend and watch and learn, what I loved most in the world. Now I was being put on display when we entered the room where a bunch of students were watching television.
They looked up, one by one, until one of them flicked off the screen and they all devoted their full attention to the man in the wheelchair. I was stunned by the obedience shown, and I began to get a bit nervous as to what I had just gotten myself into. but then I looked at their faces, the faces of the teenagers, and none of them were afraid. Not one of their gazes held fear or malice, not one of their expressions were angry. They showed this man nothing but respect, and that awed me.
I looked them over. There were three of them on the couch, and one on the floor. The one on the floor was a boy maybe eleven or twelve, with a head of dark brown hair and a smile that made me think of my brother--the same kind of charming smile that all pre-adolescent boys seem to have. His eyes, green and round, held a spark of mischief to them.
There were two girls and one guy on the couch. I looked over at the guy. He was my age, maybe a little older. Tall in build, and well-built at that! A behind-shades inspection labeled him as the clean-cut sort, probably a stickler to the rules and had a little trouble kicking back. His posture suggested one of forced relaxation, and his muscles were tense for any action. His complexion was fair and his medium brown hair was cut conservatively, though I would be my last dollar he used hair-gel every morning. What really interested me was the fact that he, like myself, was sporting a pair of sunglasses in the after-dark hours. The lenses were red, perhaps quartz or ruby.
The girl on the other end of the couch drew my attention next. She was an elegant beauty, the kind of girl who was aware of her good looks, but never tried to flaunt them. I could tell from the starting gate that she was prim-and-proper. Athletically built, the right proportions in all the right places, she was a girl that other girls probably admired and despised at the same time. Her hair was a fountain of red, falling gently around her face and across her shoulders, probably stopping midway down her back. She had to condition, it was the only explanation. Her eyes were green and clear and fixed me with an open expression of curiosity.
Sandwiched between the boy in the shades and the perfectly manicured red-head sat a pint-sized girl with light brown hair held into a high ponytail. Her lovely blue eyes watched my moved uncertainly, and her pretty face held a frown of curiosity. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, judging from her size and her build. If put back to back, we'd probably be the same height. From the way she held herself, she was very open in her feelings and very vocal with her thoughts. The presence of Xavier beside me was probably the only thing keeping her mouth closed.
"Scott," Xavier spoke up. The boy in the shades perked up a bit. "Would you gather the rest of the students and staff? There will be a meeting in the library."
"Right away Professor," Scott said as he hopped over the back of the couch and jogged toward the staircase in the other room.
"You three should head to the library as well," Xavier told the others.
They nodded, casting a glance at me in turn before leaving us alone once more. I turned to Xavier and grinned. "Lively bunch you've got here Charles," I said in my most regal voice.
He smiled at me. "You should get in practice of calling me 'Professor Xavier' now that you're a student."
"Aw shucks! And here I thought I was special." We shared a smile before another person walked into the room.
A man, perhaps in his late thirties, walked in and stopped short upon seeing me chatting it up with Xavier. His dark hair, cut in a very...unique...manner made him look sort of rough around the edges. His dark eyes narrowed on me when he entered, and stared there for a moment. He was making the same deductions of me that I was drawing from him. Stranger in my view. He wasn't a very tall man, but he was built like a fighter and I could almost feel the primal strength radiating off of him. He was a feral, a mutant with some kind of animalistic qualities. I had met a few while I was with DeVero, and I learned that my eyes were subject to feral blood. Feral men were territorial, and could be aggressive randomly. My guess was that I was safe with Xavier, but I would have to watch myself to make sure I never found myself alone with him.
"Ah, Logan," Xavier said, looking to the newcomer with a smile. "Your timing is perfect."
"I see we have a visitor," Logan commented in a thick voice. I liked the sound of it, like gravel and a growl.
I waved a little, lamely. I was very outgoing in my youth, and I think I retained most of that in my 'older' years. I much prefer my own company to a large crowd, but I can be social if the mood strikes me. I was feeling a little giddy at the moment, too much hope mixed with lack of food and a lot of self-belittlement.
"This is Parker Watson," Xavier introduced. "She'll be gracing us with her presence for the next few weeks."
"Hello," I greeted respectfully, bowing my head before I strode forward, holding out a hand to the feral man. "I'm Parker."
"Logan," he said gruffly, shaking my hand slightly before just giving me a suspicious stare. His grasp had been warm and I was positive I'd end up getting on this man's nerves at least once while I was here.
"So Prof," I said casually, turning back to Xavier with a relaxed ease. "Why's everyone gathering in the library?"
"Introductions, of course," Xavier replied.
I paled, lowing my sunglasses enough to meet his gaze. "I have to make a speech...?"
"More like we want everyone to see you, so they know who you are, and how they can help you. And we want you to know the same of the others," he explained, wheeling forward and taking the lead out of the room. I scrambled to follow after, Logan a step behind me.
"But I'm n-not g-g-good in from of c-crowds!" I stuttered.
"You handled Logan quite well," he pointed out, tossing a glance back at me.
"There's a big difference between a feral and a library of mutants!" I pointed out, getting a headache already. "Oh, I feel an ulcer coming on."
Xavier chuckled and Logan snorted from behind me. "We going for a dramatic edge, Charles?" he asked the man in the lead.
"We're only helping a young lady in need of help, Logan," Xavier said in that good-natured way of his. It was like I wasn't there, and I smirked a little.
"I'm feeling special again," I spoke aloud, with a grin. At the very least I had enough confidence to stand in front of a room full of strangers.
Xavier came to a stop in front of a pair of large wooden doors. I could hear murmuring from behind them, voices but no words. It seemed everyone was crowded inside apart from the three of us. Logan went in first, Xavier followed, pausing long enough to nod at me. I took a deep breath before following him.
The talking died down the moment I stepped into the room. My head was down out of habit, but I looked at them all from behind my sunglasses and under the fall of my hair. All eyes were on me, from the students to the other teachers, and I felt all the gazes. Each one was like a blade of fear in my heart. Have I mentioned my hatred of crowds? That's nothing compared to speaking in front of crowds.
I was at Xavier's side when he paused in front of the throng, and it made me feel fractionally better. "Everyone, I would like you to meet Parker Watson," he said in a projecting voice, indicated me at his side. "She will be our guest at the mansion for the next few weeks. I want you all to make her feel welcome." I felt my face burning. I looked to Xavier and he nodded toward the crowd. I had to give a speech.
Goddamn it!
I cleared my throat a little, waved lamely and bowed my head out of respect. "I'm Parker," I said in a practiced monotone voice. "But you may called me 'Dreamweaver'." There were a few small murmurings, but I ignored them. "I don't plan on stay here long," I continued. "Professor Xavier has been most kind in offering me a place to stay while assisting me in searching for my brother. He is also a mutant, and the two of us were separated several years ago." I looked up then, scanning the faces, seeing their understanding of my words. "I promise not to get in anyone's way."
"No need for promises of that kind," my lovely guide said. Ororo got up from her chair and walked forward, extending her hand when she reached me. "I hope your stay here is up to your standards."
I took her hand with a wry grin. "My standards are very low," I informed her. "And this is a freakin' mansion. I think I'll be just fine."
She smiled politely and moved aside so the rest of the school could get a good look at me. "Why don't you all introduce yourselves?" Ororo suggested. Her tone carried more order than request. My grin widened a fraction. I liked her already!
The first student to move forward was Scott, the boy in the shades from earlier. He held out his hand and I accepted it was a lopsided grin. Oh, he was a dish all right, but not my type I'm sad to say. His grip was firm, like he was testing mine, but I didn't want to play his game right off the bat.
"I'm Scott," he introduced himself. "Welcome to the Institute."
"I'm Parker," I said casually. "Thanks."
"Nice eyewear," he commented when he released my hand. "Those serve any functional purpose, or just part of your image?"
I smiled slowly, evilly. "I could ask you the same, but judging by the shade and make of those babies on your face, I'd say they keep something pretty strong from smacking me in the head."
He grinned. "Optic blasts," he said, pointing to his eyes. "Pretty powerful blast when taken raw. That's why they call me Cyclops."
I turned to the side, studying his glasses from a few angles. "Suave," I said at last. Then I reached for my own and pulled them down. I met his shades with a yellow stare. "Mine are just to avoid stares."
He didn't comment, just nodded solemnly and nodded to the others. I guess he was the 'sacrificial lamb' come to the proverbial slaughter, seeing if I was murderer or martyr. I think I passed the test because the rest of the students crowded around to shake my hand and introduce themselves.
It seems the lovely red-head was named Jean Gray, hardly the name for a great beauty. She shook my hand and smiled, then she explained to me that her powers were psychic. Telekinesis to be exact--the one power I've always wanted to have--and a slight telepathy. I was very gracious to make her acquaintance.
The pretty girl from between them on the couch was Kitty Pryde, a whole lot of valley girl stuffed into a pint-sized body. And when I say girl, I mean Girl with a capitol 'G'. Still, she seemed sweet enough. The kind who could annoy you one second, but make you forgive her the next. Her power was walking through solid objects, something she demonstrated by walking through two of the students in front of her. A real Shadowcat.
The little boy from the floor, the one who had the cute smile, was Jamie Madrox. His nickname of Multiple was shown without words when an older classmen pushed him and three little boys fell to the floor. I think I had an affinity for him right away because I had always been a sucker for kids.
I was also introduced to Jubilee, a very pretty girl who could shoot fireworks from her hands. Amara, a girl they called Magma because of her ability to turn herself into liquid fire and melt solid rock. Sam, a boy called Cannonball, able to shoot himself and go 'boom', I guess. Then there was Bobby the Iceman, guess what his power was?
There was Wolfsbane and Spyke and Beast, oh my! Well, Wolfsbane was Rahne Sinclair, a darling girl with a lovely accent who could transform into a wolf. Spyke was a total skater boy with the ability to shoot bone-like spikes out of his body, whom I was told was the nephew of the lovely Ororo. She's also known as Storm. Beast was formerly a teacher at the local high school, a Hank McCoy, who had been transformed into a very buff blue creature with a humanitarian nature and a gentle way about him.
Sunspot and Berserker were two boys in the rear, attempting charm but not pulling it off. I made it a rule not to get attached to anyone anyway, so they were both plumb out of luck. Sunspot, or Roberto, was a human solar panel, able to use the sun's energy as his own. Next thing you know, there will be a microwave mutant... Berserker was actually named Ray, a show-off who had power with electricity. Unlucky for him, I felt no spark between us.
Bringing up the rear were the two people who probably interested me the most. One, a girl named Rogue. She seemed to be a kind of gothic girl, with heavy makeup and clothes covering all of her body. Her hair, a burnished brown that fell just short of her shoulders, had two white stripes on either side of her face. Someone told me, that someone not being her, that her power prevented her from human contact. She sucked energy into herself through skin-to-skin contact, or something like that. All I knew was that she had sad eyes, large and green and haunted. I wanted to be her friend right away, despite my inner warnings of not to get attached.
The last person I met was probably the most interesting of all.
Kurt Wagner. Needless to say that I was a little taken back by his appearance. Not in a bad way. I wasn't scared of him or anything, I was just...awestricken. I can see why they called him a 'fuzzy elf' when he was introduced. His actual codename was Nightcrawler, which made me smile at the fact that he looked nothing like fish bait. His body was covered in a kind of blue fur, complete with pointed ears, white fanged teeth, and a tail! When he offered a three-fingered hand, I guess he didn't think I would take it. After a millisecond's hesitation, I grasped his hand firmly and shook with a smile. Blue has always been my favorite color!
Introductions were made and everyone seemed friendly enough. I was still feeling slightly nervous--my fear of crowds and everything.
"So Parker," Kitty said with a smile. "Like, what is your power?"
I grinned impishly. "They're nothing extraordinary," I said with a shrug. "I was born with the eyes. They let me see in the dark. My brother has them too, which is how anyone can tell we're twins." I had to clear my throat because I could already feel it closing. I had to switch subject, not think about Peter, or I'd cry. "I have dreams," I said lamely. "Dreams that tell things, like the future and stuff."
"Really?" Bobby asked. "Does that mean you can see if I'll get an A in math this year?"
A couple of people laughed. I grinned and shook my head. "It doesn't work like that. I don't control what I see, I just...see things."
"Is that all?" Jean asked. She gave me an encouraging look and I shook my head with an eager grin. Maybe I was a little show-off-y myself sometimes, but I loved my Gifts. In all of my life, no matter what I did or where I went, I can honestly say that there has never been one day in my life where I was ashamed of being a mutant.
"Rogue," I said, calling to the gothic girl in the back of the group. Her head came up and her eyes met mine. "What's your favorite flower?"
"Wha?" she asked me, brow coming forward in a puzzled expression.
"What's your favorite flower?" I repeated, looking at her with a friendly smile.
"A rose Ah guess," she drawled in a southern accent as pretty as she was.
I grinned. "Rose," I nodded. Clapping my hands together, I rubbed them three times, turned them flat and slowly pulled them apart. I felt a familiar tingling sensation in my hands and my arms and my breath left me slowly. In the air between my hands, a stem began to grow. Green and healthy and lovely, I focused all my senses and attentions to make this one perfect flower. The stem grew to include a bud which grew and bloomed like flash photography. Leaves unfurled along the stem, each ruby petal on the flower was perfect. I concentrated until everything was perfect, as close to true life as I could make it.
The tingling stopped in my hands, and I plucked the rose, which had suspended in the space between my two parted hands, from the air. I brought it to my nose and sniffed it. It was a perfect, clean rose scent. I had done well this time--but flowers were my favorite. A guilty pleasure, if you will. One trait that made me unalterably female was my love of floral things.
I tossed the rose across the room to Rogue, who caught it deftly. "There ain't no thorns," she said, looking at the bare stem.
"I thought it safer to forgo the pointy things," I said with a half-smile.
There was a whistle from the on-lookers and a few of them even applauded lightly. I blushed and smiled shyly. "Are flowers all you can make?" Scott asked with a grin.
"I can make anything," I said while crossing my arms over my chest. "Accept for living things. I can do cut flowers, dead things like that, but creating life is beyond my 'mutant' power."
"You can create life in another way?" Evan asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Any woman can, genius," I laughed. "Hasn't anyone told you about the birds and the bees?" I was given a round of laughs and I felt relieved. Perhaps my staying here wouldn't be such a bad thing for the time being, until I had to move on again.
It's a sad thing, to keep moving like I did. Once I found Peter I would probably keep having to move. At least until I was eighteen. That way, I would be free of legal charges, but I knew in my heart that the law didn't matter to men like Andrew DeVero. He'd come after me until the ends of time, simply because he thought he owned me. And men like Andrew DeVero never lost something that was theirs.
"Well, it seems you'll get along here better than you think," Xavier said from behind me. I turned and smiled. You should retrieve your belongings and we'll set you up in a vacant bed."
I gave him a salute. "Sure, Cap'n," I chirped, heading out of the library and toward the front doors. As expected, my bike was still there. Complete with everything I left on it. In sleep towns, one didn't have to worry too much about being robbed. Grabbing up my helmet and emptying my saddle bags into one large duffle bag, I trudged up the stairs and inside again.
I was greeted by three students when I re-entered the building. Scott, Jean, and Kitty were near the staircase, talking to one another until they noticed me. "Hi!" I greeted, waiting for an explanation.
"We're going to give you the grand tour," Kitty said with a grin.
"After we get you to your room," Jean said with a smile.
"Just follow us," Scott explained. "You can get lost in a place like this pretty easy."
"No kidding," I drawled. "I almost got lost on the front step!"
They offered me smiles. I know I'm not a great comedian, but I try. I hefted my duffle bag over my shoulder and stood at attention, back straight, chin parallel to the ground, just like I was taught.
"You're room is upstairs," Kitty said. "There's a small one-bed room next to mine and Rogue's room. It's got a nice view of the backyard." She was trying to make it sound like Caesar's Palace and I grinned.
"I'm sure it's better than a park bench," I offered. "So I'll be happy with it no matter what."
"Follow me," Kitty said with a smile. She bounded up the stairs and I did my best to keep up with her, but I'm afraid my energy is getting less in my older years, so I lagged a little behind her.
We walked down a large carpeted hallway, lined with identical wooden doors. Kitty pointed out who-slept-where, the closets, and the two bathrooms, one at the end of each hall. When we came to a stop, we were nearly at the end of the hallway leading to yet another staircase. She turned to a large a little ways down.
"That's Rogue's and my room," she told me. "Feel free to knock if you, like, need anything."
"Thanks Kitty," I said, and I meant it.
Kitty opened the door for me and I walked into a modest sized room. It hadn't been used in a while, but it was far from disheveled. There was a bed and a dresser and a desk with a lamp. There was a large window that opened, with no bars on it. And the door had no lock. I loved this room in an instant. I tossed down my duffle bag and helmet on the bed, then hung my side bag on the chair at the desk.
"I could definitely get used to this," I said, looking around.
"Good," Kitty smiled. "It's a great place."
"You all seem so happy here," I commented to her.
"We weren't at first," she said. "But once you're, like, here for a while, we've become something of a family. And it's nice."
I nodded, smiling a little. "On with the tour," I said, pointing toward the door. She grinned and led the way again. Back down the stairs to where Scott and Jean were waiting. I guess it was a kind of initiation, to see my reaction to everything they had to show me.
I had been prepared for most of it. The training rooms they called a 'Danger room'. The infirmaries and the technical computer rooms. I was still a little surprised and awed by all of it. The garage of high-powered vehicles, the X-jet, and especially Cerebro. This was the machine that would, hopefully, help me find my brother.
All the while we walked, the three of them went back and forth in conversation. They baited me, asked me questions--some of which I even answered--but mostly just had fun being my tour guides, showing all the best parts of their home. A place that would serve as my home, for a while anyway. Mostly I was content to listen to them speak and to just be in their company. I liked listening to people speak, I always have. it's surprising how much you can learn about people when they just talk and forget that you're there. Not that they forgot me, really. There were just some lines of dialogue that seemed like an inside joke between Scott and Jean, and sometimes with Kitty.
There was a domesticity to it that I liked, that I envied, and that I also hated because it made me remember what I had lost so many years ago.
We couldn't have been gone more than a half an hour, so it seemed, but after nearly two and a half hours of walking the mansion, we were back upstairs at the door to my new room.
"Get some sleep," Scott told me. "We'll have you in the Danger room tomorrow and you can show us your stuff."
I grinned. "Them's fightin' words, Scott," I told him. "You'd better be able to back that up." He grinned back at me and it seemed a bridge had been crossed. I seem to have passed his test.
"You really should rest," Jean said, the voice of logic. "The Danger room isn't a joke, and you'll need all your energy."
"You don't have to worry about me Jean," I assured her. "I can look after myself. But thanks...for the worry anyway." She smiled at me, that pretty school-girl smile. That was a million-dollar smile. And like I had with Scott, I passed Jean's test.
"You'll, like, have to get to know the others better tomorrow," Kitty told me enthusiastically. I wouldn't say as much out loud, but she reminded me of the energizer bunny, her mouth always going a million miles a minute. It was a quality that would probably bother a lot of people, but I liked talkative people. It was quite people who always wanted to know things. Talkative people liked to think they already knew it all.
"Then I guess I will bid you three a good evening," I said with a flourishing bow.
"G'night," Kitty called, going next door.
"Good night Parker," Jean said with a smile and a wave.
"Rest up," Scott reminded me.
"Right-o Skipper," I called after him.
Once they were gone and I was alone in my little room, I didn't even bother flicking on the light. I could see perfectly well. Instead, I walked right over to the large window and flung it open, letting the cool night air flow over me and into the room. DeVero never let me have an open window. This seemed like a perfectly illegal act, and I shivered in delight.
The next thing I did was slip out of my jeans and jacket. I dumped the contents of my duffel bag out on my bed, hopping into my one pair of comfy pajama pants. I slipped on my other pair of socks, gathering the shed clothing into a pile so I could take it to the laundry room tomorrow. I hung my jacket on the back of my door.
On top of the dressed, I plopped down my hairbrush. I stuffed my two clean shirts, my other pair of jeans, my single pair of shorts, and my one dress into one drawer. Everything else went in the other. Clothing secure, I unpacked my side bag. My framed pictures of Mom and Peter went up on the dresser. My new journal I placed on my desk. The only other things in my side bag were some chapstick, a few comic books, and my portable radio.
By that time, I had run out of things to do, so I just tossed myself on to the bed with a sigh. There was a digital clock next to the bed blinking 11:37 at me. If I went to sleep now, I'd be up at one or two. I could go watch TV downstairs until breakfast. That resolved, I went to sleep.
I surprised Ororo the next morning when she padded down the stairs from her room and into the kitchen. I was already there, frying up some scrambled eggs for myself. It was only 5:30, still dark outside to boot.
"Good morning Parker," she greeted when she flipped on the light. Once more, I hadn't bothered turning the lights on.
"Good morning Ororo," I greeted. "Or should I call you Storm?"
"You can call me whatever you like," she mumbled, heading to the coffee pot. It was half-filled from when I had made it a little while ago. Still, it was hot and it was drinkable. So she sat behind the counter, sipping on her drink and watching me.
"How do you like your eggs?" I asked.
"Over easy," she replied fuzzily. My guess is she's not talkative before her first cup is done.
"Over easy it is!" I replied energetically. I had actually slept for four whole hours that night, so I was feeling especially peppy. I made our eggs, setting a plate down in front of her, lightly salting and peppering. Then I added wheat toast, butter, and a fork. "Enjoy," I said with a smile, digging into my own breakfast after pouring myself a second cup of coffee. Black, of course.
"Early riser?" she asked me after a while. I looked up and grinned.
"I only sleep an average of three hours a night," I informed her. "It has to do with my powers. The more I use them, the more rest I need. But I've never slept more that seven hours in row in my life."
"Your mother must have loved that," Ororo grumbled, sipping her coffee.
I laughed, really gave my throaty laugh. It felt really nice to laugh.
We ate more in silence, and after a while, some of the other students made their way downstairs. Scott and Rogue were two of the first. Kurt was the last, popping in out of no where and stealing some toast. I offered them eggs, a few accepted and I busied myself with cooking. It was a small luxury one didn't get to enjoy when moving a lot. Until they make a portable kitchen that is.
At around eight, everyone was downstairs, showered and dressed and groggily ready for the new day. I was finishing up the last of the dishes, humming to myself. Ororo was drying with me. I think she was starting to like me, for which I was grateful. She was the kind of person you'd not want to get on the bad side of. She told me how she was running the first of the Danger room sessions that morning, since Logan and Hank were fixing a computer glitch in their security system. For once, I was actually getting excited about training.
So at eight-thirty, when everyone was assembled in the kitchen, we headed down into the Danger room. We all had to change into this weird outfits too, with X's on the front. Kitty told me that it was a signature of the 'X-Men'. It wasn't exactly my style, but I wore an extra outfit while waiting for a training suit of my particular size.
When all of us students assembled in the room itself Ororo came forward and split us into two teams. "The first team will be the more experienced students, and the second will be the younger ones," she explained. She also took the time to tell me that Professor Xavier was running the courses via a small computer room overhead.
I was put into the second team. I didn't mind a whole lot, but it did miff me that they just assumed I'd be second-rate.
Team One consisted of Scott and Jean--big surprise there--Kurt, Kitty, Rogue and Evan. They were the most worked with at the mansion, so I had heard. My team, which consisted of everyone else, had to move out of the way so that the first team could go through an maze of lazer-shooting robots and stun rays and all kinds of attacks. I watched in relative amazement at the teamwork that the senior students exhibited.
When they completed their objected, I was kind of disappointed at the anti-climactic end to it. Then again, the course hadn't been all that hard, considering there were six senior mutants. If that was the hard course, mine would be a cake walk!
"Ororo!" I called over to her. When I reached her side, I also looked up at the small room where Xavier sat in control. "Do you think I could run a course myself?"
"Parker, you're still a beginner--"
"In this room, I'm Dreamweaver," I told her with a firm edge to my voice. "I would like to be given the opportunity to show my level of skill, if that is alright with you."
Ororo looked up to the box. A light flashed, a signal from Xavier? Whatever it was, she turned to me and nodded. "If you need help, just call," she reminded.
I bowed and headed out into the field. The six seniors were leaving, panting and satisfied. As I passed by Scott, I gave him a wink. "Remember them fightin' words?" I asked him. "They're about to meet their worst nightmare."
His eyebrows rose over his shades. The others looked at me strangely too. I guess they'd never seen a five two blonde, armed with nothing, enter a battle field like a victor. I never had either. It was a show of cocky pride that drove me to it, and some kind of sick pleasure to show of everything I had been made to learn over the last five years.
I heard a whiny sound and a holographic image began to appear of a rocky cavern. Machines shifted beneath my feet and I went into a defensive stance. I hung my hands at my sides. Immediately, as if they had always been there, two metal batons formed in my hands. There were each two feet long, each an inch thick, each made of solid titanium alloy. My weapons of choice.
A few robots came at me. I dodge attacks, moving quickly. Head down, body pivoted, just like I had been taught. I lashed out with a serious of kicks and blows from my batons, each aimed at a new target, each taking them down easily. A few blows were shot at me, I dodged again, falling and rolling and leaping to my feet in one smooth motion. I didn't have to think half of the time, I only had to feel, and to move. My body worked for itself.
After a few minutes, I reached the end of my course. There I stood, panting and sweating and aching from a good fight. But I had done it. I did an entire course alone, and I had beaten it. Half of me was elated, especially from the cheers I go from the students on the other side of the room. But another half of me was scared, very scared of what I just did. This was what DeVero had trained me for, to be a fighting machine. To be merciless and to kill and to destroy at his bidding. It didn't work because I had run away from him, but to know that I could still be some kind of a weapon...made me very frightened.
"Where did you train?" Ororo asked me when she reached where I was standing. I looked at my hands and my batons disintegrated back to where they came from.
"My adopted father had me trained by several martial artist instructors while I was in his care," I said quietly. "As for the control I have on my mutant powers, that was because of my mother."
"Impressive, on both accounts," she said with a smile. I returned it, albeit weakly. She probably mistook it for fatigue, not that it really mattered.
The other students congratulated me, complimented my technique, and asked for pointers. I spoke little, answered a few questions, and sat off to the side for the rest of the session. Scott, who had been particularly impressed by my skills, offered to have a run, just him and me, on the advanced course, but I passed.
"Maybe next round," I said. I was done for the day though. They seemed disappointed by that, I think. To think, me, Parker Watson, would tire of fighting. The proud hath fallen. Mostly I just didn't want to feel my body fight like that again, like I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to. That would mean DeVero had won, and I was just another mindless mutant machine.
Still, I loved watching the others. They had an awkward grace to them, a flawed routine that got them through most predicaments, mostly because of their trust in each other. I admired and envied them again. Mostly, I was happy to watch them. And I could have gone on watching them perhaps forever, if it wasn't for the fact that they had to rest.
Such runs were done most of the morning. The afternoons the students had free to do whatever they wanted. Kitty asked if I wanted to go hang out with her in town, but I turned her down. I turned down other offers of activities with some of the others too. It wasn't that I didn't want to hang out with them, that I didn't want to get to know them, I just wasn't used to being anyone's friend. I wasn't used to people wanting to be near me.
I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts right now.
So while the teen mutants were enjoying there summer afternoon, I sat on the couch with little Jamie Madrox, watching cartoons on the television. We didn't talk, accept to laugh or comment during commercials. After that I went back up to my room, to lay on my bed and listen to my radio for a while. A while turned into an hour and an hour turned into an evening.
Rahne and Jubilee, who's shared room was across the hall, stopped by to tell me about dinner, but I wasn't hungry, so I didn't go. Instead, I just emptied my mind and meditated for a while. Mom always said meditation helped focus my energies and my powers.
By the time I came too, it was already near to midnight, and I wasn't tired at all. I saw that my journal lay on my desk, forlorn and nearly forgotten, so I grabbed it up with my pen and padded down the hall and into the kitchen. My stomach was growling from my missed meal.
Without turning on a light, I put down my pad and pen on the counter and headed to the fridge, pulling out the pickles. Or as I liked to call them Heaven in a jar. Opened jar beside me, I pulled myself up on to the counter, journal opened in my lap and began to write a letter to my mother.
Halfway through the letter, there was a popping sound a few feet away from me. I jumped, making sure I didn't knock over my jar of pickles or loose my pen. There, in front of a now-opened fridge, stood Kurt Wagner, the Nightcrawler. Okay, maybe now I understood why they called him that.
"You should warn someone before you pop in like that," I commented dryly.
"Yaaa!" Kurt yelped, turning around in front of the fridge. For a second, I doubt he saw me, but then his hand reached the light switch and turned it on. I had to shield my eyes from the bright light.
"Or before you turn on a light!" I growled. "That hurts!"
"Sorry!" he said, quickly turning the light off and using only the fridge light as his guide. "What are you doing here?" he questioned me. His voice was thick with what sounded like a German accent. I like it, it gave him character. I like all accents mostly because I like all languages and can fluently speak three. Perhaps I'll take up German someday.
"Midnight snack," I commented, holding up my pickle jar. "You want?"
"Pickles? Ecccchhh," he commented. I could see him making a face and I laughed. "What's funny?"
"You sound like my brother," I told him with a laugh. "He did that every time I offered him a pickle too. I feel so sorry for the pickle, it is the most underrated of the condiments."
"Well, if they tasted better, they'd get more appreciation, ja?"
I sighed dramatically. "I guess so." I looked at him quizzically and I saw his eyes widen a fraction. He had such pale eyes, though not as stark yellow as my own. My only guess is that I tilted my head enough for the membrane on my eye to reflect. It always seemed to bother people, that I was like a cat in that way. "Do you want me to up on my sunglasses?" I asked him. "I know my eyes can offend people."
"No," he said quickly. "You're fine."
"Okay," I said with a sigh, arching my back until I heard a nice crack. "I'll finish writing in my room."
"How can you write in the dark?" the Nightcrawler asked me.
I grinned. "I can see in the dark too," I said with a smile. "And I must say that Scooby-Doo boxer shorts are a risky fashion statement." His eyes widened then and he looked down. Then he squeaked and tried to cover his lack of pants with his hands and his tail. I laughed, grinning like a fool. "You're too cute," I told him between chuckles. "Enjoy your snacking."
With that I screwed the cap on to my pickle jar, placed it in the fridge again, and headed back upstairs to my room. I could feel Kurt watching me, and I could tell he was both supremely embarrassed and complimented at the same time. It was true though, he was entirely cute--in a fuzzy-blue-boy kind of way.
...So there you have it, Mom, the whole story as of now.
What I meant when I said the people leave something to be desired, I mean that they are too damn likable. I might start caring, Mom, and that's the worst thing I can do right now. I don't want to like them too much and I don't want them to like me either. Then it'll just hurt them when I have to leave. And I will have to leave eventually. All I can do is hope that they start getting annoying in a hurry.
I'll write to you again soon, I promise.
All my love-- Parker
A/N: Please R & R!
