Like Waiting on Your Train to Come
Chapter Two: Looking At Me, Previously
Scott drove his car down the road, idly looking around at the scenery. Jean sat beside him, Kurt and Kitty in the back. Xavier had debriefed them on their next assignment, Operation: Find the Ghost, Kurt had humorously referred to it as. They had flown down here, and once they landed on a private airstrip, Scott had driven his car out of the jet, and they had climbed in. Xavier had brought his vehicle as well, and he and Ororo drove ahead of them now on the road.
It was a beautiful day for May. The sky was blue, brighter and clearer than up in New York, Scott noticed. The mountains lined the horizon all around them, the hills were boundless and rolled on for forever; it was all such a picture-perfect scene he had a hard time accepting it for real at times. It was peaceful; there were not chaotic noises of city life, or of school. He enjoyed the silence, the only real sound he heard was Kurt and Kitty sleeping in the back.
Jean sat in silence, looking ahead with her arms crossed. She was deep in thought, and it worried Scott how perturbed she was. So he brought it up.
"What's the matter, Jean?"
Jean looked up when she heard the quiet, worried question. Scott was watching the road, though he turned to look at her for a moment. "I'm just thinking…" she said quietly, looking away.
"About what, the assignment?" Scott asked; "Jean, if something's up, you can tell me."
"I know," she said with a slight smile; "It's just… well, did Xavier tell you about last night?"
"Yeah," Scott said with a sigh; "Also mentioned how we needed to keep an eye on Berzerker. But that's not important right now. We're talking about you, here."
Jena let a small halfhearted laugh pass her lips; "It just… shocked me," she said; "I mean… she was there then she was gone, when she was there she seemed so scared, so… so confused. She acted as if she were being chased! I don't know," she finally said, shaking her head; "It just… rattled me. I didn't go back to sleep," she said suddenly, looking at Scott; "I… I couldn't stop thinking about when I was able to make out her face, her eyes…"
Scott nodded, "It's all okay, Jean," he reassured her, his hand on her shoulder for a moment. Oh how he wished he could hold her hand, but he didn't, letting his hand gravitate back to the steering wheel. "This is gonna get sorted out," he said, pushing his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose to give himself something to do.
Jena nodded. The following hour was given away to silence. Scott followed Xavier's car into a small town seemingly caught in a standstill. The buildings on the main road were the products of 19th century architecture. People walking down the streets stopped to watch the two cars drive down, some waved. Jena turned and woke Kitty and Kurt up. The two cars pulled up along the side of the street. Scott got out and walked over to it, the door opening to reveal Xavier.
"Scott, will you four please try and see if Miss DeBonte is in the town?" he asked.
Scott nodded; "Of course, sir," he said.
Xavier smiled, and handed Scott two copies of the girl's picture; "Here, these may be of good use to you."
Scott took the pictures and with a smile he shut the door. He waved as the car departed, and then walked back to his car.
"Alright, guys, here's the deal," he said as he gave Jean a picture; "Jean, you and Kitty will go down this side of the road and see if Meg's around. Kurt, you and I will take the other side."
Ray walked through the institute, having just cleaned up after a Danger Room session. He stretched and went into the TV room, surprised that it was empty. Most of the recruits were down by the pool, and Ray knew Rogue was holed up in her room, probably writing poetry. Ray sat down, intent on watching some TV, when he saw that the files Hank had presented merely hours ago were still on the coffee table.
He picked them up, staring at the picture. She was a pretty girl, for sure, with a girl-next-door smile. She had red hair, with faint streaks of pale blonde highlights. She had the bluest eyes Ray had seen, bluer than his got whenever he was in Berzerker mode. His finger lightly traced the picture as he thought about the previous occurrences.
He set the paper down, and picked up the others. It was mostly her biography, when she was born, who her parents were and what they did, what school she went to. Ray was surprised that she was home schooled, but then it gave a reason for the innocence in her smile. But as he read the documents it made him think…
Do they have this kind of information on me?
Determined to get answers, Ray set the papers down and headed out of the room. He headed for the first floor, and he then found Xavier's office. It was like a small study, in all honesty, what with the walls lined with bookcases full of books and a small chess table set up by the large windows. The large mahogany desk set off to the side had a computer on tome of it, and a bookcase behind it that served as an open filing case. Ray headed for the files, looking for his name amongst the folders. He found it, noticing how his was relatively thick with papers.
Taking it and sitting down at the desk, Ray opened the folder, a identification sheet greeting his curiosity. It showed his picture, and round of the mill information. Ray set the paper aside, and froze. He saw a pink paper that bore all of the homes he had been sent to. Upon going through the remaining papers, he saw that they were detailed reports on the homes he had been in, what age he had been when eh was in them, and why he was removed from them. Can't believe I've been through over fifteen, Ray thought.
Ray finally paused when he reached the final thing occupying the folder. It was a newspaper clipping, an article. Ray stared at the headline, and then read the article…
8 YEAR OLD SURVIVES EXPLOSION
Bernie Anderson was found dead in his home earlier today at 4:00 p.m. after a 911 call was issued by a neighbor. An explosion had been heard coming from the house, and when the police reached the scene they found wires from the telephone polls had been disconnected from the house and what was once the living room was now a demolished corner of the house, the second floor close to collapsing.
RaefordAdam Crisp, Anderson's eight-year-old stepson, was found in the cellar underneath the house huddled under a metal table, dirty from debris, sporting hands with second degree burns and bruises on his arms and chest. The child's injuries seem to be unrelated to the explosion itself, but speculation is still leaning towards the disconnected wires.
"We think he may have been playing outside when the explosion occurred, and out of fear ran to hide in the safest place he could think of," Officer Donald Hues, one of the first officers to arrive at the scene, reported.
Anderson's wife, Angela, was not at the home when the explosion occurred. Neighbors say that she had not been at the house for over a week, which has brought up suspicion on how well the life was behind closed doors…
Ray covered up the article slowly with the other papers, and closed the folder. He sat there with his hand atop it for a moment, staring down in a haze. He remembered that day, remembered it like a bitter nightmare, as it often was.
He had been playing outside with his G.I. Joes and his trucks, pretending to be in the heat of battle, when his stepfather had come home, angry that he had been laid-off, a detail the article failed to report. Ray soon became an unwilling punching bag for the man, and eventually, Ray had run to hide in the living room. He had ducked behind the sofa, and when he heard his stepfather come in, out of fear, he grabbed the floor lamp and swung it at the man. But it had been yanked from Ray's hands and used against him, butting him in the chest and sending him flying. Ray had turned and managed to fall on his hands and knees, just beside the table with the phone. He felt a power in him, then, and taking the phone he threw it at Bernie. What followed the phone was a powerful jolt of electricity that Ray had created, what he had made in his small frame of a boy. It had hit Bernie and knocked him down, traveled through the phone line and had such power that it disconnected the wires and caused the electric works in the living room to explode...
It had been a week after his mother had left, and abandoned him, in Chicago.
Wiping tears away before they could fall, Ray put the file away, and then left the office as it had been before he had come through. He headed back to his room, to pull out his real father's dusty old guitar and try to fix it. He reached his room, and pulled the old leather case. Sitting on his bed, he placed it in his lap, and ran his hand along it, feeling the texture of the worn cow hide.
It was pretty much all his real father had left him, the guitar and its leather case. But it had been a gift from the heavens for him. It was his prized possession, a Les Paul. Ray opened it up, looking at the black guitar with a net worth he didn't know. Ray set the case down and put the guitar into playing position. His fingers found the strings, and he began to play, letting his frustration and anger pour into the music. He let it flood his senses, let it consume him, and he felt like he was the music, not himself.
A knock at the door cause Ray to stop playing and look up, and he saw his roommate, Sam, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.
"Couple of us are going down to the beach," Sam said; "Wanna come?"
"Guess so," Ray said, putting the guitar away; "When we leaving?"
"About an hour," Sam said; "Yur playin' sounded sad, Ray. What's up?"
"Nothing," Ray said, his walls going up. He wasn't up to talking.
And Sam understood; "'K, man," he said.
Four stores and two restaurants later and Scott was no closer to finding the girl in the photograph Kurt carried with them. They were heading back to Scott's car after combing the left side of the street, when they saw a teen close to their age inspecting the sports car. Scott quickened up in his pace and Kurt chuckled under his breath.
"Can I help you?" Scott asked, causing the teen to look up at Scott and back away from the car in surprise.
"Hmm? Nah man, just checkin' out the ride," he said; "Nice, by the way."
"Uh, thanks," Scott said as Kurt walked over.
"So, what's brought y'all to this town?" the teen asked; "Not like Yankees, or anyone else fer that matter, to come through here that nobody knows."
"Well, actually," Kurt began; "Ve are looking for dis person," he showed the teen the picture.
The teen took the picture and stared at it for only a moment, and then looked form Scott to Kurt; "I think I could help ya," he said; "Who are y'all?"
"I am Kurt, and dis is Scott," Kurt said; "Vell, do you know dis girl?"
"I do," the teen said; "I'm Reggie, by the way. What do you want with her?" he handed the picture back to Kurt.
"Well, we are actually representatives for a school," Scott explained; "We think Meg might be a good candidate for a spot there in the fall."
Reggie nodded, "Well, I'll get my bike and y'all can follow me there."
Jean and Kitty joined them ten minutes later, and soon they were following Reggie out of the town and down a road that quickly went from pavement to gravel, and then from gravel to dirt. The wheels of the bike and the car kicked up dust and left a smoky trail behind them. Twenty minutes out and the town behind them, Reggie went between to iron gates held open by year soft ivy that crawled over from large trees that created a canopy. The drive was gravel again and they found themselves riding under a tunnel created by the trees, the golden sun filtering through the branches.
They came to a large, beautiful plantation home, three stories high and stretched out and back for a good acre and a half. There was a separate house that had once been the kitchen building. There was a beaten path that led to stables and barns, and another that led to an orchard. The fields around them rolled for miles, some housing crops while other harbored cattle and horses alike. The X-Men got out and looked around in wonder, but Reggie only rolled his eyes at them as he parked his bike in front of the house.
Scott saw that Xavier and Ororo had beaten them to the house, the classic, elegant car parked at the house's side, by the garage. Scott and the others waited by their car as Reggie went up to the front door.
Reggie rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, the door opened to reveal a stout old woman in an apron with a wooden spoon in her hand. She frowned at Reggie, who smiled innocently.
"Is Meg here, Missus DeBonte, ma'am?" Reggie asked politely, tipping his hat to the woman.
"Yeah, she's out ridin'," the woman said, peering over Reggie's shoulder; "Who's that there witcha?" she asked, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Oh, people from a school," Reggie said; "They wanted to meet meg."
"They must be the students Mister Xavier was referrin' to…" the old woman mused; "Alright, go find Meg, boy."
Reggie smiled, then jumped off the porch as the woman closed the door; "Foller me!" he called, beckoning for the mutants to.
The four followed Reggie down the path to the stables. He went around them, and by the time Scott and the others caught up with him, Reggie was standing on a fence, looking out over the orchards. The others did the same, and they saw what he was watching.
There was the girl in the photograph. She was riding bareback on a black Morgan horse, the animal running through the orchard. She held not reins but hair from the horse's mane. She rode like it was second nature, part of her very being. It was a graceful and beautiful scene.
"There's Meg," Reggie said quietly, watching intently; "Good at it, ain't she?"
"Yes, she is," Jean said; "Um, Reggie, why is her hair white?"
Reggie shrugged; "It's really a pale blonde, ma'am," he said, looking at Jean; "She was born with it that color. She used to dye her hair, though. Can't really blame her," he said, looking back at the rider and her steed.
"She's awfully pale, too," Kitty murmured; "Is she albino?" she whispered to Kurt, who shrugged.
"No, she eez not pale enough," he replied.
"HEY MEG!" Reggie suddenly shouted, startling the four mutants. "PEOPLE'RE HERE TO SEE YA!"
Meg drew the horse around and it slowed to a trot as she looked up at the hill where Reggie was, and he waved at her. But he stopped and lost his smile when he saw how uneasy she suddenly seemed. He looked at the four for a moment, then he shouted back to Meg again.
"COME ON UP!"
Meg waved and she rode the horse up towards them. Reggie hopped down from the fence and said; "Foller me, we'll wait on the porch."
Xavier, Ororo, Reggie and the four students sat with Meg's immediate male family member, her father and grandfather. Her father, Matthias DeBonte, sat stone silent as he thought about the Professor's proposal.
Meg's grandfather, Ulysses "Mule", was pondering it as well.
"I just don't see why you've come to us," Ulysses said in his deep southern drawl; "I mean, Meg ain't got nothin' wrong wit' her! Sure she's a bit paler, a little smarter, but that ain't reason to qualify her 's mutated!"
"Sir, with all do respect, I feel that my institute is perfect for your daughter," Xavier said.
"And yes, we believe that she has powers… greater than human expectations," Ororo added; "Please, may we simply have a moment to speak with her?"
"Well, she was ridin' a while back," Matthias said; "Whenever she comes up though, you can."
And yet, as if on cue, Meg walked up to the porch, putting her long hair up into a ponytail. She looked around at the crowd gathered there, and said; "Da', what's goin' on?"
"Meg, these people here are from the Charles Xavier Institute for Gifted Children," Matthias said; "They say that you qualify for a place there."
"Chicken Fluff, there somethin' you wanna tell us?" Mule asked worriedly, his dark eyes shining with worry.
Meg looked around at the group nervously; "I… well, ya see…" she stammered, ringing her hands together as her eyes fell on her father; "Things have been… happ'nin', da…"
"Things?" Matthias asked.
Meg nodded; "I… I think I can go from on place to the other, ya know, like in the movies, when someone teleports? I… it happened last night," her eyes fell on Jean, and she said quietly; "Sorry I startled ya."
"It's okay," Jean said with a smile.
"Meg, I am Charles Xavier," Xavier said, holding out a hand. Meg shook it with a small incline of her head and a smile; "I believe that I could help you."
"Help me? How?" she asked.
"Well, I run a school specifically for children with abilities unusual for to the human race. Now, you would attend a public school, but you would live at the institute and have additional training and small sessions that could teach you how to control and perfect your powers, and when necessary how to use them for the greater good. I am asking if you would please come, at least for a trial semester."
Meg nodded, then looked at her father and grandfather; "Da, papa, what d'ya think?" she asked.
Matthias shrugged, and Mule said; "This 's got nothin' t' do wit' us, Meg," he said; "This be yur decision."
Five minutes later, Meg found herself up in her room, packing her things. She put her clothing, journal, and papers of sheet music into a duffel bag, and with slight difficulty, zipped it up. She pulled out another bag and put her toiletries and hygienic items in it. With a sigh, she then picked up an old cloth doll, about three feet long, and sat down on her bed. She traced the circle where a black button eye should have been, and laughed at the memory of how it had gone missing. The doll was the first toy she ever received as a child, and she slept with it often. With a sigh, Meg got up and put it in a bag. She then pulled the handmade quilt from her bed, taking a moment to look at the stitching.
Now that she thought about it, she had never really left the small town, or the farm. She had been born in the room next door, for crying out loud! How could she be leaving it all behind? She loved this place; she loved the mountains, the seasons, everything about it because it was home.
A small tap near the door brought Meg from her thoughts. She turned and saw Reggie standing in the doorway, with a poignant look on his face, one of confusion and bitter sweetness, a hope that what was happening wasn't happening at all.
"So, yur goin', huh," he said quietly, more to himself than to her. He walked in, and Meg saw he had something held behind his back; "What wur those Yankees talkin' 'bout, some 'school fer the gifted' 'n' all that?"
Meg sighed; "I… I got problems, Reg'," she said quietly, looking at him.
"Here, lemme help," Reggie said as he put whatever it was he was holding in his back pocket. He smiled to her, though she didn't by it, as he took one end of the quilt.
Meg smiled slightly, and as they folded the quilt, she explained; "Stuff's bin happ'nin' lately to me," she said, "An'… the man in the chair thanks he kin help me."
Reggie nodded; "What kinda problems?" he asked curiously.
"Weird ones," Meg said. She took the newly folded blanket from her best friend, and put it away, taking the doll away to place it on top.
"Don't forget yur pillow," Reggie said, handing her the afore mentioned object. He let go of it reluctantly as she took it, knowing that that was that, she was going.
Meg took the pillow in silence, and put it on top of the doll. She then zipped the bag up, and sighed; "Reggie, I'll prob'ly be back 'fore the apple harvest," she said, looking at him.
"That's a good three months away," Reggie said; "Just… just don't lose yur accent, okay?" he asked, laughing quietly.
Meg smiled and giggled; "Don't wurry, I won'," she said.
Reggie smiled too, then he reached back behind him; "Here, I wanted to give ya somethin'."
He drew his hand from behind his back, and Meg saw he held a simple playing card in his hand. But when she realized it was form his special deck, where the backs of the cards had angels on them, not mermaids or dogs playing poker like the ones sold in the convenience store on Main. He handed it to her, and she took it.
Flipping it over, she saw it was the jack of spades. Looking at Reggie with a confused expression, she asked; "What's this for?"
Reggie gave her an uncertain grin; "Well," he replied; "Whenever you meet new people, remember the Ole Jack Pack that's waitin' for ya down here."
Meg smiled, tears in her eyes. Without a word she hugged Reggie, and he let out an inaudible sigh as he returned the embrace.
The inhabitants of the mansion arrived home close to sundown. Ray came through the doors laughing, being closely chased by Amara. He had stolen her flip-flops on the beach without her knowing, and once they had left she had freaked out and when they went back to the beach, they started searching and Ray, Roberto, and Sam went out surfing for an extra twenty minutes. Ray only told Amara the news that he had had her shoes the entire time once he had gotten out of the car and was close to the institute's doors, and she had then screamed in outrage and proceeded to chase him.
Now Ray was running and slipping on the marble floors as he ran down the hallways, Amara chasing him with vigor. He finally ran into a room and closed the door behind him. He leaned against it and breathed a sigh of relief, but jumped back when the door suddenly became hotter than fire. He shouted and instinctively began patting his back to rid himself of the burning sensation, but too late he realized Amara had kicked the door open and had lunged. She tackled him and brought him down, and then began hitting him on his chest, shoulders, and Ray knew he would have at least one bruise.
"You stupid jerk!" she shrieked, "You must be sick and twisted to think that was funny!"
"Hey, it bought me 'n' the – jeez! - guys some surf - ow! Watch it! - time!" Ray said, pushing the girl off of him with a laugh and a smirk; "It was all in good fun!"
"We were searching for over an hour!" Amara said as she got up. She stomped her foot; "You're hopeless!"
Ray just shook his head as she stormed out, then got up and went to his room. He started to undress, when he heard the chime signaling that someone was at the door. When the chime sounded again, Ray rolled his eyes, quickly put on a fresh pair of boxers and shorts. He grabbed a white wife beater, and was on his way to the front door. Swinging the article of clothing around, he opened the door.
Ororo was standing there with a girl, and the woman was not pleased. But Ray was staring at the stranger. With bright blue eyes, pale, fair skin and wavy hair almost as white as Ororo's, Ray thought he was staring at an angel, or a ghost, he couldn't decide. She smiled and he saw she had a dimple in her left cheek. But she was so familiar.
Then it hit him. The stranger was the ghost that had gone through him.
"Uh, uh," Ray stammered, quickly putting on the beater; "Sorry, ma'am," he said with a bashful grin.
Ororo rolled her eyes; "Well, Ray, now that you've rejoined the living," she commented with a small smile; "Please help our newest guest with her things."
"Uh, sure!" Ray said, slipping past the two and heading for the elegant car with Meg's things in the trunk. Logan was there, unloading the bags, and he glanced at Ray before shaking his head.
"What?" Ray asked, and Logan chuckled.
"This is gonna be interesting," was all he said as he picked up three bags and began to haul them off.
Ray looked at what was left; a small shoulder back, a backpack, and a…guitar case? Sweet! Ray thought as he grabbed the bags. He went up to the house, to see that no one was in the foyer. Not knowing where to go, he sighed and climbed the stairs, heading down the left hallway in hopes that she would be rooming with Amara, or Jubilee.
He was right when he thought the girl was rooming with Amara. Ororo was explaining the rules of the institute, and as Ray entered the room he rolled his eyes, having heard the rules countless times.
"… And the bathroom is down the hallway. You may use it at any time, provided no one else is," Ororo said, bearing the same calm, loving smile she always seemed to have.
The girl smiled; "Thank-you, ma'am," she said.
Ray noted how thick her accent was. Where was she from, Alabama? He thought.
Ororo turned; "Ah, Ray, sorry I didn't introduce you at the door;" she said; "Ray, this is Meg DeBonte. Meg, this is Ray Crisp."
"Hi," Ray said, waving once as he turned to leave.
"Um, perhaps you'd like to show her around?" Ororo asked.
"Oh, I will, ma'am!" Amara said.
Ray turned. He hadn't noticed Amara had been in the room. "Amara could," he said.
Ororo crossed her arms and gave him a look that said "I asked you to do something" and he felt guilty. But he really didn't feel like playing host to a person who had gone through him.
"How about you both show her around?" Ororo said, walking past him and leaving the room.
"Rude!" Amara said, walking over and cuffing him on the head.
"Hey!" Ray whined, rubbing the spot where Amara had stuck; "Abusive!"
He looked over at Meg as she laughed, the sound seeming to have a pleasant, airy sound of ease; "Y'all're funny!" she said, smiling.
"Well, someone's gotta put this guy in his place!" Amara said, laughing; "Come on, I'll show you around!" she ran to Meg, took the girl's hand, then as she rushed out she grabbed Ray by the front of his beater and dragged him along too.
TBC
A/N: come on people, please review! i wanna know how this story is going. it will only take a few seconds, and i love critism, I'm serious!
