Wow! I'm sorry about how long it took for this to get updated. Thanks everyone for the encouragement, and thanks Lonely Shadow Knight for a much needed kick in the pants. To AngelFish2: Yes ma'am, right away, ma'am, won't happen again, ma'am *eyes the flamethrower nervously* ...Yeah...this was kinda hard to write- I hate set-up. I also hate explaining martial arts stuff, because I'm a big believer in "show-don't tell" when it comes to writing. That, and I've got several other scenes that won't exists until the far future running through my head. Anyway...this should get semi-intresting soon enough. It should also be more Mort-centric in the comic chapters.

Title-Lyrics to the song "I'm Still Here" by the Goo Goo Dolls. Line goes-"What do you think you'd ever say, I won't listen anyway." Go listen to the song. It's happy.

Um..martial arts...a dojo is the building you train in, a sensei is an instructor, and a black belt is the mark of a master. (Or, in my case, someone who's just stubborn). Ray Parks practices Wu Shu and Tae Kwon Do as far as I know, and I added Shotokan to the mix just so there'd be a style I knew something about (write what you know). And copywrites...

Toad isn't mine, he belongs to the lovely people at Marvel, who have, of late, made him look like a Hispanic Mechanic (but he's skinny and likes LotR, so I don't mind to much), and most recently*shudder* - Elton John (see New X-men. or don't, if you'd rather not spent your nights picturing E.J. with a four-foot-long lounge...man, if I ever get to be a penciled at Marvel, Mort is SO getting an image over-haul).

...Ahem...anyway...on with the story.

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Felix finished unpacking the last of the items from the two cardboard boxes that contained all of his worldly goods and sat on the bed, eyeing the his small cell. He sighed. While the size of the room was considerably larger than the one he had had at St. Genevieve's, he couldn't help noticing the empty spaces on his bookshelf. Most of his books he had left behind at his last post. His fingers traced longingly over the spot next to "The Five Rings" where "Ireland: a History" had once sat. Ah well, the boys at the old school would make better use of the books, And anyway, he thought with a rueful grin, it's not as if I don't have half of them memorized, sure enough. He glanced down in the box. Well, there was one more thing to unpack. He slowly lifted a bubble-swarthed rectangle from the bottom of the smaller box and carefully unwrapped it. As the last of the popable plastic wound away, two boys stared up at him from within the picture from. The taller one, with his shock of dark, ruddy hair, was unmistakably a younger Felix O'Toole. But the other...strange orange eyes, squinting in pleasure, but never blinking, laughed up at him from an oddly colored face that only barely passed for humanoid. The smaller boy sat on Felix's shoulders and both were laughing. Brother Felix grinned back at the two boys with a touch of sadness and reverently set the picture on his bedside table, next to his nightstand.

"I miss you, Marty."

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The weekend was rather uneventful. For the two days, he could feel many different pairs of youthful eyes on him: some curious, some excited, several bored, and just a few...wary. He smiled and shrugged it off. Soon the novelty of being "the new Brother" would wear off and he would simply be Brother Felix, the History teacher. Except to a few, to whom he would be known as --and he smirked here, remembered whispers of old pupils-- "Brother Sensei, the Military Monk from Hell!" He smiled, delighted at the prospect of molding young minds and bodies, teaching the boys how to think and act for themselves, shaping them into young men who could be proud of themselves, who would know their worth. While they took their meals in the cafeteria, he cast an eye over the squirming, muttering boys, wondering which would join his extra classes. And, more importantly, which ones would stay. There were so many. At least, so many more than there had been at St. Genevieve's. He searched for the ones that looked defiant, angry, scared. But secretly, he searched for one face amid the crowd, a face that he didn't know, but one that he knew he would recognize the instant he saw it.

Brother Felix searched for the mutant boy.

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"So for Wednesday, a one-page summary of chapter one in your History books. I've posted a list of times that you can come in to use the books." A collective muttering rose from the boys as they eagerly moved to the door. "Not just yet." Felix barred the escape of his second class of the day. The children looked up at him, annoyed and doing their best to show that the new teacher didn't scare them, even if he did look like he could break any one of them in two.

"I wanted to let you know that I am holding an...extra class. You can take it to replace your current gym class. And..." he added, sensing limited enthusiasm, "Any boy who attends my extra class and works hard gets an automatic two-point curve on his tests." One lad, with a practiced expression of boredom, raised his hand.

"What kind of a class?" Brother Felix smiled.

"Martial Arts."

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The gym was ancient and musty, with dim floresents flickering overhead, humming drowsily as they cast minimal light over the scarred, wooden bleachers and the scratched-up floor. Felix paced the floor under the basketball hoop that had long since been deprived of net, watching the dustmotes dance in the rays of sunlight that filtered from some of the windows he'd managed to get open, his thumbs casually hooked behind the frayed black belt he wore over a white gi, and sighed. Well, it was better than trying to train them in a classroom. Briefly he considered the merits of training them outside. But since the main playground area was more gravel than grass he deigned against it. Maybe if the class size dwindled after the first few weeks... He glanced again at the clipboard of names. Twenty-eight boys had signed up--a surprisingly high number that he knew better than to expect. But he could hope. He chewed on a knuckle thoughtfully and wondered if he could convince the abbot to grant him one more period so that he could split them into classes of fourteen.

A soft scurrying sound from behind the bleachers in the far back distracted him. He looked up and peered into the dusty shadows.

"Hullo?" he called softly. There was no response. Curious now, he walked slowly toward the sound. Had he just imagined it?

"Brother Felix!" He turned his head at the call. A young, nervous-looking boy...Thomas, yes, that was it, was standing at the doors of the gymnasium, several other boys behind him. "Can we come in, sir?" Felix smiled and nodded, welcoming the first of his new students into the dojo.

"The first thing I'd like to do," Brother Felix boomed, pacing in front of the fidgeting ranks, his quiet voice and demeanor left behind, "is introduce m'self to y'. I'm sure by now, many of you know me as 'Brother Felix' but I worked hard for this," he patted his well-worn belt possessively, "and I was a Sensei long before the Good Lord called me to a life of devout chastity." He paused for a moment to strike a pious pose, causing many of the boys to giggle. Without missing a beat, he moved back into a drill sergeant mode. "So, from the moment you set foot in this building, you are to refer to me as 'Sensei' or," he considered, "'Brother Sensei,' I suppose, if Father Abbot comes in.

"Now, I promise y', boys, I'm not teaching a pansy little gym class. From now until 11:45, your mine, and I expect y' all ta work hard. If y' have any problems or questions, don't hesitate to ask. I don't bite. Anyone?" A larger boy raised his hand.

"So, is this karate or wot?" Felix smiled.

"I'm glad you asked that...?"

"Brad."

"Brad. No, this isn't karate. This is kind of like a bast--" Felix paused a moment, trying to readjust the way his old sensei had described his schooling. "The school under which I studied taught a mixture of styles: Tae Kwon Do, Wu Shu, Shotokan. So you'll get the opportunity to learn something about each and find what suits you best. Tae Kwon Do focuses on kicking and technique; Wu Shu is something like gymnastics...only deadly." He grinned. "And Shotokan is more focused on just fighting. But I suppose you might as well just call it 'karate' for the sake of understanding."

The question-answer session went on for a few more minutes until Felix decided that the boys were now stalling. He clapped his hands loudly.

"Alright, boys. Let's start with some stretches."

He lead the class through their first exercises, unaware of a pair of dark yellow eyes that watched warily from the shadows.



By the end of the week, nine of the boys had decided to go back to regular gym class rather than suffer through another lesson of stretching and techniques. Two others had signed-up Felix's class, shy, small boys from his History class that he had coaxed into joining. He was fairly satisfied with his class as it was, and more than pleased with the progress of his remaining students. But he still had yet to meet the mutant boy who's existence had been the catalyst for his coming.

"Brad, while I admire your intensity, for now I'd like you to focus a little more on form and technique." Felix demonstrated the correct technique to his husky pupil and nodded as the boy imitated in a more passable manner. "Very good. You need a strong foundation to build your skills on." As he walked on to the next student, he made a mental note to watch Brad Ryans more closely. The boy was growing tired of going through the disciplined motions and kept asking about when they were going to start "real fighting." Felix was beginning to suspect his enthusiasm. "Excellent, Thomas. Keep it up." He stood in front of the class again.

"Now I'd like you to try a double-round-house-kick." He demonstrated a technique that would be difficult, but not impossible, for the beginners to do, kicking two separate imaginary targets without putting his foot down. "It's a balance trick. Kick to the knees first," he kicked low, balancing on his left leg, "Then go for the head." He kicked high enough to make most of his students wince. "Just go as high as you can. One!"

"Uu-SAH!" His students shouted, trying to preform the move. Several wobbled and fell over. Few got the second kick higher than their waists.

"Two!"

"Uu-SAH!"

"Three!"

"Uu--" A loud clang came from the far end of the bleachers, startling students and teacher alike. All eyes turned to the back of the gym.

"Hey, it's--"

"Eyes front, Mr. Ryans!" Felix called out, commanding the return of his student's attention. "Three!"

"Uu-SAH!"

At the end of the class, Felix was approached by Thomas, who needed help with a series of techniques. Just as he was about to explain the first to the boy, he noticed Brad stumping toward the back of the gym.

"Come see me before class Monday, Thomas. I...I have to take care of something," muttered Felix, distracted. Thomas nodded and left the gym as Felix quietly walked to the end of the bleachers.

"I see ya hidin' there, ya scummy li'l toad. Wot ya fink yer doin', 'angin' 'roun 'ere?" Between the planks, Felix could see Brad grab someone from under the bleachers and yank him out. "Ya wanna take classes, issat it, ya stinkin' mut--"

"Mr. Ryans." Felix's voice, though quieter than the one he used as a Sensei, had lost none of its firm, commanding tone. He stepped around the bleachers to see Brad holding a scrawny child rather roughly by the arm. The smaller boy's face was obscured by ragged dark hair. It was difficult to tell in the shadows, but something about his skin didn't look...right. Brad's eyes widened as he turned to the Sensei, dropping the boy's arm. "What is going on here?"

"Nuffin, Sensei...sir. 'S just the Toad." The boy jerked his head dismissively at the small boy who now crouched, shoulders hunched, carefully studying a far corner, as if the two people in front of him did not exist. Felix's mouth set in a thin line.

"'The Toad?'"

"Yah. E's the one wot made that noise. E's a ret, y'know. Some o' the Brothers, they think he's deaf, but really, e's just stupid. Don' worry 'bout 'im, sir. 'E's not s'post ta be 'ere. I'll take 'im back t'the dorms." He made a quick grab at the other boy's arm with barely disguised viciousness. Felix put out a gentle but firm hand to stop him.

"That's alright, Brad," he said quietly, his eyes hard. "I'll take care of him. You go to lunch." The husky boy stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze and nodded.

"Yes'sir."

When he was gone, Felix squatted in front of the boy Brad had named as "the Toad," trying to make eye contact. It wasn't working. The boy's sallow face was slack, his eyes hooded and disinterested, dully looking at the floor far away from the monk. His shoulders were hunched protectively almost to his ears. Felix wondered briefly if the boy really was mentally retarded or autistic--certainly there was nothing on his face to suggest any interest or even acknowledgment of his surroundings.

"Hullo there. I'm Brother Felix." Felix waited for a moment, but got no response, no evidence that the boy had even heard him. He tried again. "You must be Mortimer." A quick shift of the eyes, caught before he looked up at the man. Felix smiled. Maybe this boy wasn't as disconnected as he appeared. "I've been wanting to meet you." Nothing. "What were you doing back here?" A more closed, guarded look passed over the boys face, and his gaze slid as far away from the monk as it could go. Felix frowned thoughtfully. Fear. A secret being guarded. With a smile he leaned forward.

"Would you like to study karate in my class?"

The boy's head jerked up slightly, and his eyes briefly lost their guarded look as they widened and flickered up to the man. In their wide, wet depths, Felix could see hope warring with fear. Then, just as quickly as it had come, it was gone. The closed expression settled back on his face and his eyes became flat and dull. Carefully, Felix reached out a hand, trying to make it harder for the boy to ignore him. The child flinched away, tucking his head to his chest. Felix frowned.

"I'd like it if you would join my class, Mortimer." From beneath lank, ragged hair, he saw the boy's eyes flicker back up at him. Felix smiled again. No, there was nothing stupid about this child. "Would you like that?" Mortimer raised his head slightly, eyeing Felix with smouldering distrust and defiance. "I'll be here before lunch tomorrow. Why don't you come so we can get you up to speed with the rest of the class, okay?" The boy's expression didn't change and Felix had a feeling that nothing more was going to get through today. He stood up. "I'm glad I could meet you, Mortimer, and I hope you decide to come." He walked away, noticing the wary way that the mutant child's eyes followed him out.

Once he had made it back to his cell, Felix dropped to his be with a loud, rushing sigh. The orange eyes gleamed at him from the photograph, and he managed to summon up a small smile in return.

"Oh, Marty...This is going to be harder than I thought."