She awoke several hours later as their plane reached the earth once more, startled and burdened with past sorrows. Lacey was closely observing the woman with more than moderate concern. Reyna avoided all interrogations by pushing past her to oversee all the transportation arrangements to the school. Lacey followed faithfully, intently attempting to find an opportune moment to voice her worries. She was presented with no such opportunity. The moment Reyna stepped down from the platform, she was swept into the awaiting arms of Hank McCoy, who would have gone unrecognized had it not been for Charles informing her of the Beast's unfortunate side effects. Lacey joined the embrace not long after. There were several less receptive reunions with Scott Summers and Jean Grey, the latter of whom Reyna resisted the urge to hiss at.
They began unloading the children and their possessions, transferring the cargo into busses and vans. There was an incessant buzz of chattering being exchanged between everyone. Out of habit from her former occupation, Reyna was constantly scanning her surroundings for any signs that there might be someone that would want to inflict harm upon them, but all was quite normal. Jamie joined the woman on one of her inspections, shedding an assertion that if anything of such nature arose, he would be delighted to demonstrate the destructive force of his power. Reyna was neither impressed nor assured. The remark earned him a cold glare and a demanding order to join the rest on the busses. He whined in faux disappointment before making his move to merge with the others.
The buses from there escorted the students on a twenty minute drive to the secluded mansion in Salem, New York. Lacey was now being entertained by the blue, furry Beast, leaving Reyna alone with her thoughts and dreams. It had been a long time since Reyna had dreamed about the man who had stolen her heart for what would become a life time, but on that plane, the memories had resurfaced, and with them came the more troubling times. She was thanking every higher being that she could think of that she had not dreamt of the last time she had seen the man.
She had dreamt instead of the first time that they had traipsed out their usual working facility to drink away the consequences of their jobs. She remembered, with vivid accuracy, the amount of beer she had consumed before her and her drinking partner began ordering whiskey by the bottle, downing one or two every half hour. She remembered the seamless laughter and ease that swirled around them as they drank the night away. And later, she felt the lust and reckless passion that had blossomed as they journeyed back to his flat to have a late night release session.
Had it not been for the painful way that she had lost him, the visions would have been welcomed and cherished, but since then, she had made a vigorous attempt to forget all traces of him, as he did her. Of course, her heart had never allowed her to complete the task her mind had delegated. She still kept a locked chest, filled nearly to the brim with all the mementos that she possessed of him. When she awoke to the visions of the last time the saw one another, of their last day together, she opened the chest, embracing every memory, every sight, every smell, every feeling that she could recall. But, fifteen years later, those nights did not come nearly as often. She idly wondered why they had started recurring now.
She was jerked from her brain as the buses stopped at the entrance of a large, elegant house. Reyna gazed intently out of the glass window, admiring the long since memorized sights of the grounds. Vines of ivy grew rampantly and untamed, coating the stone walls of the mansion with nature's favorite color. Many children were playfully romping about the perfectly kept lawn, carefully watched over by the older mutants. All attention was drawn to the approaching caravan of busses and vans, eyes wide in disbelief and curiosity. Home, she idly thought, surprising even herself that she had actually called this monstrosity her home. She defined home not by where one resided for lengths of times, but whom one resided with. That being her philosophy, she had never believed that there would be a "home" for her ever again.
Scott and Jean delegated the unloading of the children, while Reyna and Lacey floated amongst the scenery, regaining the lost sense of direction. Scott, much to the students dismay, demanded that everyone stay together until they had fully settled them in. However, the older ones began instantly venturing off to different locations, reeled quickly back to the crowd by a very cranky Scott. Resigning themselves to control, the mass allowed themselves to be herded through the mammoth oak doors into the welcoming foyer. Many of the residents of Xavier's School for the Gifted curiously gazed at the thirty new children that would be joining their ranks. The initial meeting was warm, smiles being exchanged between more people than could be counted. Reyna breathed a sigh of relief.
"Home sweet home!" Lacy chirped, twirling about, laughing uncontrollably. "How long has it been since I was here?"
"At least twenty years," replied a velvet feminine voice from the stairwell. "But it's good to see that you're all alive and well."
"Hello, Ororo," Reyna stated, slyly smiling at the white-haired, bronzed goddess floating down the steps. "My, my, you have grown up a lot. You're a lot taller than you used to be."
"While you still look like you're twenty," she jabbed.
"What can I say? It's my gift."
They burst out laughing, embracing one another in a sisterly manner. The doctor's kids were observing curiously, not understanding how their caretaker could possibly know the attendants of the school. Ororo and Reyna were animatedly chatting about the times that had been missed during her absence and numerous other random topics that had no meaning to the outsiders what so ever. Jean had taken her position by Scott's side, jade eyes drilling holes into the side of Reyna's head. Her boyfriend was impassively scrutinizing the halls, resuming his uptight teacher mode. His stance straightened when the sound of automated wheels caught their attention.
"Reyna," Charles stated from his seat in his wheelchair, causing the brunette beauty to spin. "Welcome back."
"It's good to be back," she stated honestly, striding over to hug the man. "Father."
"Father?" a gruff, masculine tone sounded; its familiarity triggered the woman to jerk her head to gape at its owner.
The man was leaning casually against the oak frame of the hall, a thick cigar clenched between his thin, pale lips. Curly muttonchops lined his gaunt cheeks blending into his defined jaw line and muscular neck. His dark eyes held a defiant, strong anger, accompanied by the lightest hint of confusion. The same confusion that Reyna knew was now clouding her own orbs. His body was nothing but lean muscles attached to a strong skeleton. A very strong skeleton, Reyna bitterly thought, refocusing her gaze to her father. Charles was oblivious to anything that was plaguing his daughter.
"Yes, Logan. I would like you to meet my daughter, Reyna."
"Hey," he grunted, still inspecting the woman before him.
"Hi," she managed to choke out before clenching her jaw tightly shut once more. "Um, Professor, perhaps we could get the kids settled before much else. It's been a long day, and I'm sure that they all want to rest."
"Of course. Storm, Jean, why don't you get the children and Lacey settled in. Reyna, we meant to give you your old room, but seeing that it is currently occupied, I think that room on the end will suit you best. I trust that you know the way."
"Yes, I do. I'll see you all at dinner," she answered, turning away from the group, but paused long enough to stare at Logan one last time. "It was nice to meet you, Logan."
With that, she dashed up the stairs. Even as the mass dissipated from the main hallway, Logan continued to stare after the woman, eyes narrowed. He was sure that he had seen the woman at least once before, but the location of that sighting eluded his conscience. She was a mutant. Her scent had made that blatantly obvious. The woman's fragrance was laced with traces of warm vanilla and remnants freshly fallen rain: crisp, clean, and unadulterated by overpowering perfumes. It was a rarity that a woman waltzed about the mansion without bearing the manmade smells of body mist. He vaguely wondered if her mutation was like his own, heightened senses. Or she might just like to be all natural, he thought, mentally shuddering at the thought of a woman being truly all natural.
He could not admit that the aroma was unpleasant; it was quite the opposite. His feral side had wanted to stride up to the woman and spend a few minutes inhaling the intoxicating scent. He growled out loud, scolding himself for allowing the animal within to exert control over his "human" side. It was an unremitting battle that he lost more than he emerged victorious. That factor, however, had not caused him to cease his attempts. He refused to allow himself the luxury of permitting that side to command his body for any length of time. Only once had he even made use of the skills in this house: when Stryker invaded. Then he had almost embraced the innate instincts to slaughter everything in his path. He shook his head slightly, ridding himself of the lasting, satisfied feeling of bloodlust, turning toward the hall to prepare for a difficult session in the Danger Room.
