Disclaimer I do not own the rights to Galerians or X-Men. Dang.

This story hasn't been updated for a very long time. I know, and I'm sorry. I hadn't intended for it to go without updating for so long, but life got in the way, and when I did come back to writing, I didn't really know where I wanted the story to go.

Truth be told, this story would still remain un-updated (but not forgotten) had it not been for a dream I had, which will now become a later part of this story. It was a cool dream, and it brought back many of the cool ideas I had for this story. So, hopefully I'll be able to post a new chapter every once in a while, but take heart in the fact that I do not plan to abandon this fic…no matter how long it is between updates.

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Human Imitation

Well, the room wasn't quite as dark as Scott had first thought. The gaping hole in the wall and ceiling directly in front of them let in some light, as well as occasional sprays of rain from the storm outside. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the hum of the Blackbird's engines, circling the building. Edging carefully into the chamber, Cyclops led his group across a narrow crossway towards a platform that must have once been at the center of the room (with most of the room now in shambles, it was hard to tell).

And there he was.

His damp clothes stuck to his limp body, and one side of his face was covered in old blood. His pale body looked drained, as if he had given his all, and had nothing left. In all honesty, he looked dead. But, somehow, this was not the case. The colder air from the weather outside revealed his faint breath as white mist streaming from his nose and mouth. They had to work quickly. Cyclops paused to contact Jean and the Professor, while the others worked to clear some of the debris away from the boy. The faint whirring sound circling the tower was now coming closer, and soon the view from the great hole in the ceiling was filled by the Blackbird.

"Kurt," Scott addressed Nightcrawler, who had bent down to the boy, "take the others back to the Blackbird. I've already told Jean, but I don't think he's safe to be moved. She'll have to bring him aboard."

The others nodded. The things they'd seen on the floors below still fresh in their minds. Shadowcat squeezed Nightcrawler's shoulder, eager to get out of the dark tower. Spyke was already by Nightcrawler's side and placed a hand on his other shoulder. Rogue was examining something on the ground, which she quickly picked up, and went to go stand by the others. Logan stepped aside to stand with Cyclops, shifting his gaze every now and then to the darkness below the platform. With a bamf! and a puff of smoke, the others were gone.

'Alright Scott,' It was Jean. 'everyone made it here.'

'Try and make a clear area around him, and I'll bring him aboard.'

There wasn't much left to do, but Cyclops and Wolverine pushed some of the larger pieces away from the boy's body. As soon as they were finished, a bubble of energy enclosed around him. Slowly, he lifted into the air, supported somehow on the inside so as not to injure him further, and was levitated into the open doors of the Blackbird. Cyclops and Wolverine took one last look around at the darkened wreckage of the room as they waited to be "picked up" as well. Logan glanced once more down into the darkness of the spherical room. A look of concentration passed across his face, and was gone. Scott had no time to question him, as they too were lifted to the open doors of the Blackbird.

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The pain had ceased. Well, most of it had, anyway. He was alone in the semi-darkness, feeling both heavy and strangely weightless at the same time. It was a feeling he'd had before, he knew it. It was a long time ago, back when…

…when the world was made of glass.

He startled himself out of his daze. Where had that come from? And where was he now? He didn't feel dead, the dull throbbing that came from nowhere in particular attested to that. He didn't think he felt quite up to living, either.

Surrounding him on all sides was what looked to be a night sky. It suddenly reminded him of Rita's dying mind, lights like white sparks raining down from a livewire. All of the lights seemed to still be in place in his mind (if that was indeed where he was), though they looked diminished, perhaps damaged. Especially in one area behind him that he just couldn't get a good look at…

No matter.

He had a feeling that something had happened. He couldn't remember much of anything very clearly, but this state of mind wasn't ringing any bells. And that fact disturbed him, for it had to have been something bad to shut him down like this. But what had happened? He felt like he was walking against a strong wind every time he tried to remember anything that happened after entering the Mushroom Tower. Images blew past him in no particular order, which did not at all help him make any sense of it. He couldn't even bring himself to worry about that, which was probably for the best anyway. Steeling himself, he tried to stop the images and focus his mind. After a great deal of effort, the howling wind eventually died down to a breeze, and his dark night sky began to fade to dawn.

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"….ink he's coming around."

"It's about time, he's only been out for-"

"Quiet down, and give him some room."

"So Rion, how do you feel?"

A jumble of voices came at him. Aside from his own name, he couldn't make any sense of what they were saying. He opened his eyes, but was forced to shut them tight against the whiteness of the room. Slivers of blue slowly became eyes once more, as he became accustomed to the light. Turning his head to one side, he noticed the people gathered next to his bed. There were some teenaged children, perhaps about his age, as well as a few older people behind them. There was a bald man close to him, sitting right by his bedside, and the more he looked at him, the more Rion couldn't help but sense that there was something about him. It was hard to describe, but he could sense…something. Not quite like his own power, or like the monsters that he had come up against, but similar enough. His gaze slowly traveled to the others, where he once again sensed that same something. He made to sit up, and found that his body felt like one big bruise, except for his head, which felt weightless. Fully knowing it was probably a bad idea, he allowed his eyelids to droop shut as he performed a light scan of the room, which resulted in no feelings of hostility or dark ulterior motives, though it did leave him with a high ringing only he could hear as well as a sharp headache. He resigned himself to his pillow, for now.

He heard his name called, tentatively, once again. Rion realized that he hadn't understood them before because they were not speaking Japanese. It sounded like English, but they had been speaking too quickly to tell for sure. Foreign language was never his best subject, and he just didn't feel up to recalling any of his English at the moment. But he could tell they were waiting for an answer, so he tried give them one anyway.

"Sumimasen. Ano…nihongo wo hanashimasu ka?"

'No, I am afriad not. But don't worry about it, I had half-suspected that this might be the case, anyway.'

It was a voice that came from nowhere and projected right into his head. Just like the voice that had first awoken him, Lilia's voice. His surprise must have been obvious, for the voice came again,

'Don't be alarmed. There are some of us in this world who possess certain special abilities,' this time the man sitting next to him spoke aloud as well, 'as do you.'

Somewhere in the back of Rion's mind he was amused by the fact that he could perfectly understand the man's telepathic voice. But his statement had put him on edge. How did this man know he had "special" abilities? How had they found him? They spoke fluent English and they didn't look Japanese, so how did they know where to look for him? And where was he now? Some of his thoughts and emotions must have been broadcasting, for he found a hand placed on his shoulder, and the man's voice took on a gentle tone.

'You have nothing to fear from us. We are here to help you, and others like you. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I and the head of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters…'

---

It was some time before he was left in the room again. He knew better than to think he was completely alone, he could almost feel the cameras, like a prickling on the back of his neck. He didn't hold it against them, though, they had no reason to harm him, so he trusted them well enough. He had more important things to think about now besides. Like what the Professor (as well as some of his students) had to tell him about this place, and how it could help him. It was almost too incredible to believe, a whole school dedicated to the protection of mutants of all kinds, as well as teaching them to control their unique powers. Rion was puzzled by the fact that they seemed to be including him in this "mutant" category, but did nothing to correct them. Better allow them to believe that rather than have them find out what he really was.

He didn't really want to think about that, anyway.

"I'm the real Rion, aren't I?"

He pushed these thoughts aside. The Professor said that he should concentrate on recovering for now, and to consider his offer to join the school when he felt up to it. And then they all left. No questions about his past, about the crisis in the city, about where (and how) they had found him. Perhaps they meant to leave it for later, and Rion silently thanked him for that. He had a lot to come to terms with. And as for their offer of shelter and protection, Rion didn't have a choice in the matter, not really. His home was destroyed, his parents (or parent) were dead, he himself was reported as missing, and...

...and he could no longer feel his connection to Lilia. It was as if it had disintegrated. As if she had never made contact with him when he was strapped to the examination table at Michaelangelo Memorial Hostpital. Like she had never existed at all. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rolled over onto his side on the bed in the empty room,

She was gone.

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So...here we are. Now I can pick up with the story a little. And oh, you might want to read over Ch. 2 again, I edited the part with Cerebro a bit. Not too much, but just enough, I think.

Review?