Author's Note: This scene is lasting a bit longer than I wanted, but if you just stick with it and suffer through you'll learn a lot about this new character. I'm sorry if you think this same scene is too long, but it is necessary. Also, I'm not entirely sure where Kurt if from, but I assumed he was from Germany. If anyone knows, please let me know. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. I love knowing what you think about my story. R&R!
Ignorance is far from Bliss
The room was deathly still. No one moved, and it was possible that no one even dared to breathe. The tension was overwhelming.
The woman on the table had released Logan and he had moved away from her a few steps. He had initially been startled by her sudden movements, but as he observed her now he wasn't quite sure what to make of her. She didn't seem dangerous at the moment. Actually, she didn't seem like anything. She looked rather confused and lost. The woman's breathing was steady, but her eyes betrayed a lost, lonely look. She was gazing down at the table and seemed to be determining what to make of it. It was almost as if she had never seen one before.
"Good evening, miss," Charles greeted her softly. She didn't make any sort of movement nor show that she understood that he was speaking to her. So he continued. "I apologize for Logan's earlier actions. If your head is bothering you, he may be blamed." Realizing the potential danger of his words, he quickly added, "But I assure you that he is sorry and meant nothing by it."
Still, the woman didn't respond to him. She lifted her right hand and studied it carefully. There was an IV on the back of her hand and several circular monitoring pads had been suctioned to her forearm. Slowly, she reached for the IV. Her fingers simply rested on it as though she wasn't quite sure what to do next.
"Ah," Charles began again. "Storm will assist you in removing those, if you wish."
As instructed, Storm cautiously walked toward the woman. She reached out to touch her arm, but the strange mutant jerked her arm back and shied away from the contact. Startled, Storm backed up again until she was next to Logan. Her disliking had just increased.
The woman drew a slow breath, and then she began to remove the IV from her hand. She flinched at the initial withdrawal, but steadied herself. After she removed that, she ripped off all of the suctions on her arms, chest, neck, and head. Small red circles were left in their places. It was only after all of them were removed that she seemed to remember that there others present in the room.
Charles watched her gaze slowly around the room. He was forced to read her body language since he could not plant himself in her mind. Her eyes did not seem wide with apprehension, surprise, or fear. Instead she looked lonely and out of place. She seemed like a child who had lost her home and family and been forced into a new and unfamiliar environment. To him, she seemed like the sort of person who would observe the events of a room rather than being the one to start them all.
He tried again to speak to her. "Welcome to my mutant home. I have brought you to a place where all mutants can be safe and learn from one another. This is a haven, miss. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish." He paused to watch her reaction, then asked, "Do you have a name?"
Her gaze had come to rest on Charles. She watched him with eyes that were no particular color. They narrowed, widened, and danced around in confusion as he spoke. She watched his mouth move carefully, as though it could unlock all the secrets of this new place. It was as though she was trying to process a string of words that made no sense to her.
Then he understood. "She does not speak English," he announced to the room.
"Perhaps she speaks German," Kurt offered after a short pause. The professor nodded and indicated for him to try and communicate. However, she did not respond any better to his attempts than to Xavier's. There was an interlude of silence as they all thought of a way to bridge the linguistic gap between themselves and this new, very powerful mutant.
"Great," Logan said when no one could think of anything. "We have a class five mutant sitting in here and no one knows how to talk to her." He grimaced and anger was printed clearly on his face. "We don't know what she wants, how she feels, or what she'll do if she gets angry! We don't know a damn thing about her!"
"Logan," Charles snapped. "I understand your fear, but yelling will not solve the problem. We have to come up with a solution." He turned to Hank and continued. "And I propose that we teach her to speak English, if Hank will agree?"
"Of course, Charles," Hank said courteously. "I can absent myself for a little while for such a good cause."
"That doesn't solve anything!" Logan muttered gruffly, his anger in danger of boiling over.
"Wait!" Storm interrupted. She pointed to the mutant woman and everyone's attention returned to her.
On the table, she was grimacing and swallowing hard. Her mouth parted and she seemed to be trying to imitate the movements of speech with her own mouth. Yet no words escaped her lips. She didn't make any sound, and it looked like it pained her. Eventually, she sighed in defeat and looked at Logan, her head tilted slightly to one side. Like this, she reminded him of a dog who wanted so badly to learn a new trick from her master but couldn't seem to accomplish it.
Charles smiled slightly at the sight. "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Very well, we will begin tomorrow if that is suitable for you, Hank? In the meantime, Storm will you show our new guest to her room. It is very late and I think we all need some sleep."
Storm was about to protest and declare that if this woman couldn't understand English how is she going to know what to do? But as she made her way to the door, the woman slid off the table and followed her obediently down the halls. As far as Storm was concerned, this woman was a strange phenomenon that would have been better for them to remain undiscovered.
She sat in her room, alone and undisturbed. But she was utterly confused. She had no idea where she was, who she was with, or what they wanted with her. More importantly, she couldn't ever remember having seen people before. She had seen pictures in her mind, memories from…were they her memories or someone else's?
Either way, she couldn't ever remember being around people. And it was probably better that way. Before, wherever she had been isolated, she felt everything. She remembered cheering happily as she rang in the New Year, crying out with pain as she brought a new child into the world, sweating laboriously as she helped build the Great Wall of China. But did she really do any of these things? Did she fiercely slit a man's throat and watch with revengeful satisfaction as racking pain tore through her own body and blood spouted from her throat. She could not be sure.
But now that she was so close to them, all of their thoughts and emotions tore through her mind and body at a terrifying rate. She knew the cautious hatred of the woman with white hair, the patient curiosity of the man in the metal chair, the longing sorrow of the man who would have killed her out of anger. She felt all of these things as well, and she clearly saw every memory they ever had. Their childhoods, their fears, and their joys were now hers to experience in greater detail than ever before.
It frightened her. This was the first emotion she could ever remember personally experiencing, and it was fear.
Yet it was not fear from them although she could not communicate. Well, she assumed that was what they were trying to do as strange sounds issued from their mouths. She had never heard that before and was not sure what to make of it. However, she did not worry too much over that at the moment because she could sense their intentions. The only one with any malevolent wishes to her was the man she used earlier to steady her mind. Despite him, their intentions were pure.
No, her fear was the fear of the unknown. This was the first time she ever thought of herself as a single entity, separate from all others in the world. Now, for the first time, she was certain that she was not standing stiff and allowing her boughs to drift in the wind as she watched the world pass her by. She was not crouched on the floor of the jungle, her belly dragging on the undergrowth, stalking her prey. She was not surrounded by water, leaping into the air on occasion, and racing boats. And she was certainly not all of that at the same time.
So who was she and what would become of her?
