She hadn't yet returned to school. Monday passed into Tuesday and each preceding day dissipated to the next. He sat, unmissed, as the physed teacher attempted to instruct his students on the importance of fitness. Save for the periodic assemble of 'yes sir's and dull nods; the class seemed joined together in the silent torture of instructor blasé.
Thinking back to the weekend seemed as though he was trying to recall events from a pre-natal period. All that occurred seemed surreal; something that would occur only in some demented story or mainstream comic book. Yet he knew it was all-true. When he returned to that mansion early that morning, he encountered the Professor awaiting him in the parlor.
"Logan," he had begun, in the voice of a disappointed parent. Xavier waited for him to speak, but he knew not were to begin. Was it even his business to share this information? He wasn't even certain the young spunkster had digested it all; would it be fair to share her tale without consent?
Perhaps Charles had read his mind. Perhaps, also, it was merely the use of his intuitive skills. Whatever the means, he understood Logan's reservations and pressed the matter no further.
This returned him to the present day, as he lounged against the wall, admiring Jean in her flimsy soccer shorts and vaguely bemused of her attraction to the one-eyed weakling. His ears piqued at the hint of a sound, and he looked expectantly to the doors, as they swung open.
Jubilee strode through, her face a mask of unreadable chaos. Still she wore the baggy rags of a philandering punk, her eyes the reflection of one who had seen the moon for many a night. The dual doors slammed noisily together, alerting the react of the populace and interrupting the floundering teacher. She walked straight passed him and plunked herself on the wooden bench. Logan stared at her, trying to catch her eye. She was avoiding him. It was to be expected.
Jean idled close to Logan, poking him in the ribs.
"She's really going to set McNally off, hmm?" He smirked.
"Aaack! Whose this, young lass, strodin' in so late?" She showed no response, and he saw the dark fibers of her Discman snaking into her shirt. The tall Scotsman marched right before her, snarling like a pit bull. "Hey, you! Deaf?" again, she refused to look up. Jean breathed a collective gasp with the rest of the class. No one ever had the will to stand tall in front of the highlander. He had a way of withering the mind to an empty bagpipe. He heaved smoke. In a swift moment, he reached out and snatched the earplugs from her head. She raised her head.
"Yes?" she hissed tersely. He pointed to the gym.
"Twenty laps! Now! Ye hear?" Her answer was one of silence. Logan cast a concerned look her way. Jean noticed.
Are you two friends? Her mind whispered. He didn't answer. Presently, the gym leader looked like an H-bomb on the verge of release. Steam seemed to permeate his skull, blood flooding his face and a disarming hate dripping from his eyes.
"I don't have time for this shit." Before he had a chance to reply, she stood, snatched back her earphones, and stalked angrily out the door.
The room deafened in silence. Logan followed her path with his eyes and sensed something terribly amiss. Standing, he followed her way, slamming the door behind him.
Jean sat perfectly still, breath caught in her chest. That girl, hadn't she seen her somewhere before? Her mind had no time to deliberate the matter as McNally sent them immediately into what she could honestly describe as the most intense exercise of her life. Whoever that girl was, she thought as she heaved her body into push up position, McNally's nazi shrieks echoing her ears, she was going to have to pay dearly for this.
Jubilee pounded down the hallway, her breath coming in short gasps. She felt the stress she had been avoiding compress, causing a brain-splitting pain. Crying out, she gripped her temple and slowed. Leaning against the locker, she felt her knees buckle. Weak, her brain protested. You're a frail, just like he said. She didn't care. She was through caring. She wanted only to slide to the ground, and keep sinking until the whole world sucked her up. A tear rolled down her cheek.
This was the sight Logan confronted as he stepped into the corridor, empty sobs wracking the walls. It was a cry he'd heard only from the most downtrodden in spirit. There it sat; crumpled in a heap.
"Hey," he reached out slowly, as to a cornered rabbit. She pulled her head up, heavily. Her mascara ran inky rivers over marble skin. She didn't bother wiping the mess away. He hadn't a clue what to say. "You alright?" A tense silence rang his ears and inwardly he winced. All the senses in the world wasted upon the densest of all creatures. Her face cracked, a hollow laugh sending chills down his spine.
"Fine," she brushed his hand away and stood, teetering. She took a step passed him, wanting only to be left alone with her thoughts. Alone she could deal with. Alone she knew, like the roads of her warped past. But, I don't wanna be alone! She swallowed deeply, biting her mouth shut. "I'm fine." The lie cracked before it whispered.
Logan watched her back turn, her mind shut off. He had seen this before; every time something came too close to the surface. The truth, he knew, was a dangerous thing. She was stepping forward, each step closing the distance between her and total destruction. Leave her be, wolf-boy. What are you going to do? Preach for humanities sanctity? Sing of a sun that will rise again? Hypocrite! His mind shouted over and over and over again. As she reached the exit doors, he shook his head. Since when was he one to follow common sense? It neither followed logic, nor was it very common.
Her hand felt the coolness of the handle, its smooth metal silently shifting gears within its wooden depths until it clicked with resolve. This finality, she knew was the farewell to change. Somehow, her mind though- he could be one, like her. No. Simple is never the case. As the door swung open, she prepared to enter again the resolute silence of her mental sanctuary.
She could not move. Her arms were pinned to her sides, a hard warmth enveloping her completely. She cried in surprise, and looked up to see the solemn face of Logan, his three o'clock shadow darkening the curves of his youthful lips. She tightened, trying to break free. Futile.
"Let go," she hissed. He held harder. She thrashed violently within his arms; biting and kicking and crying like a wounded banshee. "LEMME THE FUCKGO!" her shrieks threatened to burst his ears, and he was fully aware of the peering eyes of curious teachers. One growl in their direction, however, sent them hobbling back to the safety of their classrooms.
Turning around completely, he pulled her through the door, down the exit and out into the drizzling gray sky. His grip never loosened.
"Shh, darlin', s'ok..." his gravelly voice comforted. She refused. Tears ran harder down her face, her body rupturing in spasmodic convulsions. Her voice was growing hoarse, but still Jubilee fought.
"No, n-no," she choked. Her movements began to subside. The complete fear and humiliation poured out along her woes. She yielded completely to his strength, permitting him to release her only to face him. She covered her sodden face and breathed a shaky breath. "Its n-not..." she hiccupped, her body quivering from exertion. He pulled her close, a deep sense of protection seizing control. A growl welled deep within his throat, and the hair on his body stood on end as the smaller figure nestled deeper into his side.
Minutes passed, and she seemed to have calmed, but neither made an effort to move. Finally though, he spoke.
"We need to talk," Jubilee nodded. She felt calmed by him. She felt safe. He lifted her easily into his arms, and she complied, content to rest peacefully.
The rain still pounded when they reached a café, one of Logan's favorites (or so he said). She stood by herself, leading the way with his guiding gestures. Settling into the cozy environment took only seconds. Soon after, two steaming cups of caffeine presented themselves before her. She cast the burly Canadian a thankful glance, and he seated himself on an adjoining couch. "So," he spoke. "Me first then?" Jubilee nodded, slowly. She knew very little of this man, save for his sameness. He was a freak, like her. His accident on the weekend proved that much. She also knew he hung around the redhead school queen and football jock. Did they share his secret?
"There's no real place to start. I mean, most times, people start stories at the beginning. As for me, well, I don' remember the beginning, so it seems sorta pointless to start there, eh?
I guess the closest I can assume is my meeting with Xavier," Xavier? Jubilee recalled that name. He was a rich old man, who lived a quiet life in Manchester on a mansion that put many castles to shame. Logan grinned.
"Heard o' him, hmm? Not surprised. Ain't many that haven't. He's got a way of stayin' on the front page o' things, ya' know?" She nodded. He continued. "Can't quite remember how I got there, but I was in the underground of his home, fightin' 'gainst Cyclops, Rogue all them." Jubilee raised a brow. He nodded. "You might know them by other names; Scott Summers, Marie, Jean Gray... All of us. We're all mutants." She said nothing, only feeding him with the same stupefied glare he had given when learning this for the first time. He chuckled.
"Seems like somethin' outta some messed up comic story, eh? Sad thing is, it's all-true. See, Charles, Xavier I mean, has two fronts. First, he stands as a fighter for social justice of all beings, especially mutants- the new breed no one believes exists. Second, he harbors a school, a safe house if you will, for things like us."
He raised his left hand and, making sure the staffs were in the back, allowed one gleaming claw to creep from between his knuckles. It gleamed sharply in the dim lighting, the wound it created healing faster than the expanding blade. Jubilee gasped. Reaching out, she traced its outline. The brief contact sliced her skin, revealing its true jagged quality. She pulled her hand to her mouth, sucking gently on the wound. He retracted it quickly, a zinging noise resting in her ears.
"During the day, we're like everyone else. We go to school, work a part time job. But then, night falls, its Mutant High." She sat back quietly, replaying the words he'd just spoken. A school? A school full of freaks just likes her? Impossible. That couldn't possibly be legal...wouldn't the government claim it as some terrorist base? Were there even enough of things like her for there to be a school? Her bones felt the truth of his words. Even if they had been fabricated, to what purpose would they serve, save the response of mockery and humiliation?
"A school," she mumbled. She looked up, her cheeks still slightly ashen from the remains of her visionary river. "Hmm." She glanced up, a smear smirk on her lips. "So what's your nickname? Fur ball?" He rolled his eyes. It seemed she was feeling better.
"Wolverine," she nodded.
"Wolverine. WOLverINE. WolVERine...Wolvie-" She chewed on the word, playing it over several times before nodding. "I like it" He sucked back a retort, settling instead for the pleased grin on her cheeks. If it pleased her so much...yet inside he knew he felt no real insult.
They passed the next few moments in comfortable silence, the earlier tension slowly ebbing as the caffeine took hold. Ever minute or so, Jubilee would look over, as if she wanted him to hear something, but she would quickly return to the depths of her cup until all vanished but a drop. Whatever it was that she had to say, he knew it was serious. He didn't wish to press matters unless they demanded his immediate attention. "Wolvie," she whispered, so shyly his ears piqued in order to hear it. He looked up, cigarette halfway to his lips.
"Hmm?" She seemed to change words mid-thought.
"Guess you don't have to worry about cancer, huh?" He sucked the sweet aroma deeply, the lighted end catching expertly.
"Nope." She nodded, her eyes roaming his, searchingly. His senses tingled, and he tried desperately to read her signs.
"You know, Charlie's always partial to meeting other, you know. You should come over sometime." Careful not to show any emotion, she blinked casually. It sounded better than the alleys she had resorted to in the past few nights. If the rats didn't keep her awake, then the company would.
"Yeah?" He nodded. "What's the deal?" He shrugged.
"Better then the streets I'll bet," she jumped. Had he read her mind? "I could smell it on ya' this mornin'." She narrowed her eyes.
"What exactly are you? An ambidextrous dog?" He chuckled at her cutely puzzled expression, feigning extreme insult.
"In short, I heal, see, smell, hear and move well. Real well." She nodded.
"So I was right about the dog part." He snorted.
"And what do you do? Toss smart-ass comments?" the corners of her mouth twitched teasingly.
"Fourth of July, from my fingers."
"Hmm, Bright."
"And hot; or, so I've been told." He nodded, remembering the stench of charred Sabretooth. What interest did he have in her? Whatever it was, he hoped to find out soon.
"So, whadya' think of visitin' Charlie's lot? You goin' to help me deal with the moron's there?" She paused her grin. What did she have to lose? A night free from rats and cold and stink? Safety from things that strike in the night? She shuddered in memory and nodded.
"Sure," she shook her head and nodded harder. "Yes, yeah I will." He smiled a true genuine smile. She smiled back. And there they sat, two fools grinning away their sadness and pain as the rain showered on.
A lighter chapter to lift the mood of the previous two. Coming up soon, Wolverine discovers the secrets harnessed by his new friend. What is this vendetta the two share? What will Xavier and co. think of their new cooperative? What of the Simmons's? Will they survive the nuclear blast suburbia has set?
Those are quite a few questions, and I hope to answer them all. Pass the news. Review, and furthermore, enjoy!
