Author's Note: Thanks again for all the reviews! Trust me, if it weren't for them, this story would easily fall victim to my writer's block. Constant interest is needed if I'm going to continue writing until the end.
Special thanks to cateyes-120 and Silverwind24 for their especially inspiring reviews. :-)
I know a lot of people are eager to find out who the mystery teacher is going to be, but I'm going to keep that a secret for now. He/She will come around probably in the eighth chapter still. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. So far I think it's the most interesting one I've written for this story. Hehe.
Please don't forget to leave your reviews!
CHAPTER 6 – When Reality Strikes
Warren raised a hand to adjust the volume on the iPod player strapped onto his bicep, but did not slow down or break his fast, steady stride. It was Saturday, just a few hours after sunrise, and as usual he was out on his daily jog around the vast grounds of the Xavier estate. As he reached the end of the trail that took him past the forested area and out towards the lake, he caught sight of something that made him halt in his tracks.
Three boys were skulking around behind some bushes just a few meters away from the lake shore. They seemed to be ogling at something that was going on at the dock.
Warren's eyebrows rose with suspicion. It was too early on a Saturday morning for students to be out this far in the grounds. And the way these kids kept chucking and nudging each other clearly showed they weren't up to much good. He crept up silently behind the boys and tapped the nearest one on the shoulder. The boy yelped in surprise and spun around instantly.
Warren crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the three guilty faces before him. "Okay, you guys. What's going on?"
"Ahh…nothing sir," Artie Maddicks answered quickly. "We were just out for a walk. And then…well, we just saw…"
Warren sighed and took a few more steps forward, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of what the boys had been gawking at. At first he froze in a moment of astonishment at what he was seeing, but then his face quickly burst out in a grin, and he had to purse his lips to keep from laughing out loud.
Clad in a white bikini, Alana Stratford was stretched out in a large blanket she had spread out on the docks. With her lustrous brown hair fanned out around her head, her face titled gracefully to the sun, and her oiled skin glistening under the heat of the sun, Warren couldn't deny that she did make a stunning sight for any male gaze. He certainly couldn't hold it against these teenage boys for drooling over her.
Forcing a stern expression back on his face, Warren tore his gaze away from the sunbathing model and turned back to his students. "Okay boys, fun's over," he said firmly. "You know better than to watch and ogle at a lady when she thinks she's alone. That's spying! It's an invasion of privacy."
He smiled and shook his head. "Look, I won't tell Storm about this if you just go back into the house and promise never to do this again," he told them. "Okay?"
The three boys muttered their reluctant agreements, casting one last glance at Alana before scuttling off. Warren watched them leave, shaking his head and finally allowing himself a good chuckle. Boys will always be boys.
Feeling obliged to do something before another set of Peeping Toms came along, Warren headed over to the docks to have a word with the source of distraction.
"Hey, you should be a little more careful about your choice of spot," he said lightheartedly, as he came up a few feet away from where Alana was stretched out. "This is a high school, and you're the beautiful older woman all the boys are drooling over. In fact, I just broke up the first batch of your gaping admirers."
Alana grinned and sat up slowly. "So that explains those whispering noises I've been hearing," she said, lifting her sunglasses and looking up at the teacher. "Well then, thanks for shooing away the party of evil-minded gawkers for me."
Warren chucked and crouched down so he could be at level with her. "But seriously Alana, I'm sorry I have to disrupt what you're doing, but this really isn't the best place or time to catch up on your tan." He smiled apologetically. "We always have to think of the kids."
Alana pouted. "So you're just saying that I've broken the house rules again?" she sighed. "I already set out early in the morning, went as far out into the grounds as I could, wore the most conservative bathing suit I own, and still I've made a mistake?"
"Well…" Warren said, eyeing the sexy bikini she had just deemed conservative. "Yeah…"
Alana rolled her eyes and got to her feet huffily. "I never win," she grumbled. "I'll never be allowed to do anything while I'm in this school, will I?"
Warren winced. "Sorry. I didn't mean…"
Alana shook her head and smiled weakly. "It's okay, Warren," she told him. "I get it. I guess I'll just have to find something else to do today."
"Well, most of the kids go out to the mall and hang out on weekends," Warren pointed out. "I'm pretty sure you can do that too, as long as one of the teachers goes along with you."
Alana smiled. "Why Professor Warren," she said, suddenly coming on coy and flirtatious. "Are you saying you're volunteering to chaperone me?"
Warren's eyes widened. "Uh, well….actually…" He took a step back as Alana advanced on him.
Alana beamed with delight. "Awesome! It's a date then! How does brunch sound? My treat," she said cheerfully.
Before Warren could even open his mouth to get a word in, she leaned in and placed a quick peck on his cheek. "I'll go get ready. Meet you out front in an hour!"
"But…" Warren finally managed to sputter, but she had already dashed off, brown hair swinging with the bounce in her step.
Warren sighed and shook his head in defeat, but still managing to smile with amusement. Well at least she'll be happy. Once again, he had proved himself a sucker for a pretty face. After all, men will also be men.
"It's true, it's much smaller than you'd imagine, but still beautiful," Warren declared. "One of the most amazing things I've seen in Paris, that's for sure."
Alana shook her head. "I can't believe it," she said, stirring the spoon around her cup of cappuccino.
After their brunch at a Chinese bistro, the two went on to have coffee and chat. They found common interest in exchanging stories about the sights they've seen in their travels around the world.
"I've been there like three times already, but I never got the chance to see the Mona Lisa, or even step inside the Louvre, for that matter." She smirked. "Museum tours aren't exactly something you can squeeze into a fashion show schedule."
She paused and took a sip of her coffee. "It's amazing how I've been everywhere, but seen almost nothing."
Warren smiled. "You'll get your chance someday," he told her reassuringly. "You can travel again."
"Maybe," Alana sighed. "If I ever manage to crawl out of this shithole I've gotten myself into." The look on Warren's face made her add quickly. "I'm sorry, I mean…"
"It's okay, I know what you're saying," Warren reassured her. "I understand. It must be hard, having the press spread stories about you all over the news and just making a big deal over everything."
Alana made a face. "I never thought there'd come a day when I'd be running away from cameras, and thinking of photographers as sleazy bastards." She gave a bitter laugh. "It's a shame actually. This is the most attention I've ever received throughout my entire career."
"Alana," Warren said gently, reaching over to touch her arm. "Your career doesn't have to be over. You can still get back after you've paid your dues."
"Obviously you know nothing about the fashion industry," Alana told him, shaking her head. "I'm not carrying any more delusions of getting back into modeling. After everything that's happened, I'd have better chances of being elected President." She smiled weakly at her joke. "I just want to get my life back to normal, that's all."
"And we're doing our best to help you with that," Warren said quickly. "But you need to work with us, and that mean being open about everything." He hesitated. "Like that incident with Kitty and Peter. Why didn't you tell us you know how to light fires?"
"Not that again!" Alana groaned. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. She was silent for a moment, staring at Warren as through gauging him, before she spoke again.
"Look Warren, I like you," she said. "You've been great, and you've done nothing but support me since day one. So I guess you can be trusted with some honesty."
She leaned forward. "The truth is, I didn't want to say anything about the cigarette lighting because I knew this would happen, that you'd all start making a big deal about it. And I was right about that, wasn't I?"
Warren frowned. "We're only making a big deal about it because we're concerned about you," he said. "If we're going to teach you how to use your abilities, then we're going to have to know what they are exactly."
"Yeah, but the more you find out about my powers, the more potential you start thinking I have, the longer this whole process of mutant rehab is going to take," Alana pointed out. "I'll have to take more lessons and training, which means I'm going to have to stay in the school longer." She rolled her eyes. "At this rate, I'll be in my golden years before I can get my own life back."
Warren fell silent. He knew that he should try to reason her, to convince her that the X-men were just doing what was best for her, and therefore needed her full cooperation. But what Alana seemed to crave was the reassurance that she was going to be able to get her old life back, to return to normalcy. Unfortunately, that was the one thing he knew he couldn't promise, nor could any one at Xavier's.
Someone was going to have to break the news to Alana that she was not normal, and never will be.
Thankfully, Alana's cell phone started ringing, cutting into the lull in their conversation.
"Hello?" Alana's eyes brightened when she heard the voice on the other end of the line. "You're here? Great! Come meet us! We're here at Gloria Jean's. Level one, just near Macy's. Okay. See you then!"
She snapped her phone shut and turned to face Warren's questioning expression. "Okay, now don't get mad," she said slowly, her own expression becoming imploring. "It's not that I'm ditching you or anything…" She started talking faster now. "But I told this old friend of mine that I was getting the chance to go out today, and she really wanted to meet up with me. She's wanted to visit me for a while now, but with all the press hounds and everything…and she just happened to be in New York City for the weekend…"
"Whoa," Warren chuckled, raising a hand. "Who am I to get in the way of old girlfriends?" He smiled. "No problem. I'll leave you girls alone, give you enough time to catch up. Just give me a call when you're done or need anything at all."
Alana smiled back, looking relieved. "Thanks Warren," she said, squeezing his arm. "You really are an Angel."
Just then, she lifted her gaze and caught sight of a pretty, well-dressed woman in her mid-thirties, who had just walked into the coffee shop. She stood up immediately and waved her hand. "Claire!"
The newcomer beamed at the sight of Alana and walked right over, greeting her with a hug and kisses on both cheeks. "Alana. You're looking well at least." She smiled and cupped the younger woman's chin in a motherly fashion. "That's good, that's good."
She then turned her attention to the man who had also stood up from the table. "And who is this fine young man?"
"This is Warren Worthington. The third," Alana introduced. "He's a teacher at Xavier's. Warren, this is Claire Anderson, my agent and manager."
"Worthington," Claire repeated, her eyebrows rising as she and Warren shook hands.
Warren smiled, all too used to this reaction. "Of Worthington Industries, yes," he said lightly. "But I'm not longer affiliated with any of my father's companies."
Claire nodded. "I see."
"Well, I guess I'll leave you two ladies now," Warren said. "Alana, just give me a call when you're ready, okay?"
"Of course," Alana answered. "Thank you so much."
"No problem. It was nice meeting you Ms. Anderson," Warren added, offering them a parting smile before walking out of the coffee shop.
"It was my pleasure," Claire called after him, before turning to Alana with a grin. "Is he by any chance interested in getting into the business? I could always use another male model with shoulders and pecs like that."
"Claire!" Alana burst out laughing. "Forget it! I don't think he's even the least bit interested. He's far too pure for people like us. It'd be a shame to taint him."
"Hmm…" Claire said, as they sat down at the table. "At least you seem able to see the good side of the male species again. That's good. I'm glad that school's helping you recover in more ways in one."
"Oh, Warren's a great guy," Alana said simply. "It would just be too hard not to like him."
"And what about the rest of the people there?" Claire asked, now looking at her with genuine concern. "Are they treating you well? How has your rehab been?"
Alana frowned. "What we do there…it's not like rehab at all," she said slowly. "It's more of mental training, and tests, and a whole lot of lecturing." She sighed. "I don't exactly get along with all the people there, and I just don't seem to be fitting in very well, but they basically they treat me just fine."
Claire patted her hand sympathetically. "Just hang in there," she told her. "Do as they tell you, be as pleasing and obliging as you can, and I'm sure they'll allow you to leave soon. They've no real reason to keep you in. And when you get out, we can pick up from where we left off."
Alana stared at her incredulously. "Are you kidding? Do you really think I can still get back to my career after all that's happened? It's over. There's just no way."
"Of course there is," Claire said firmly. "Honey, all this publicity over your mutant condition may seem negative now, but the point is, it's turned you into one of the most talked about celebrities in the business. You're more famous now than you ever were!"
Alana smirked. "Yeah, because now everyone knows I'm a freak. A dangerous one," she added bitterly.
Claire took Alana's hand and squeezed it. "But once we get you out of Xavier's, we can turn all the negative publicity around. We can say that you were able to beat the odds and recover from the mutant sickness. You'll be conquering hero then, not a freak. Someone to be admired and respected! You see? We can still make this work Alana."
A hopeful look started to grow on the model's face. "Do you really think so?"
"Absolutely," Claire told her gently. "You are far too young and beautiful and talented to drop out of modeling. I won't allow it! You just have to get past this obstacle, and let me take care of the rest."
Alana smiled, deeply touched by her friend's dedication and loyalty to her. "Thanks, Claire. I…I really don't know what to say."
The two ladies spend the next couple of hours chatting some more before they realized how the afternoon had flown by.
"I really do wish we could have more time together, but I've got an appointment back in the city in a couple of hours," Claire said regretfully, as they walked out of the coffee shop together.
"I understand," Alana told her. "I'm just so glad we were able to get together at all." She hugged Claire tightly. "Come see me again when you can, all right?"
"Of course," Claire said, planting a kiss on Alana's cheek. "I'll always be in touch. And you just feel free to call me when you need anything, understand?"
"Excuse me. Alana?"
The two women turned towards the man who had just come up and spoke to them. Both were taken aback when suddenly they found themselves facing the lens of a video camera. Beside the cameraman was another who was unmistakably a news reporter. Paparazzi.
"Alana Stratford?" the reporter repeated, flashing them a toothy smile. "Hi. Alan Barker, Channel 7 News. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions."
It took all of Alana's composure to refrain from snapping at the man or even just rolling her eyes. She had experienced been in front of the camera for years, and knew that every movement was done in front of a rolling tape had to be chosen wisely.
"I'm sorry Mr. Barker, but not today," she told the reporter as politely as she could. "Now if you'll excuse us…"
Barker moved quickly to block them from brushing past him. "Just one little interview Ms. Stratford, please," he insisted, cheesy smile growing even wider. "Don't you want to let your concerned public know how you've been doing?"
"Fine," Alana said tartly, and made another attempt to move away. But when the obnoxious man stepped forward to block her way again, Claire wedged herself in between them.
"Claire Anderson, Ms. Stratford's manager," she said in a tone of unquestionable authority. "Any questions you have regarding her current condition, you may address them to me." She cast a discreet but meaningful glance at Alana. "Ms. Stratford is very busy as of the moment, and has some place else to be. I must insist you let her pass so she can make her appointment."
Alana threw Claire a grateful look and immediately took the chance to slip away from the reporter and camera's reach. As she walked away, she could hear Alan Barker whining and trying to negotiate with her tenacious manager and guardian.
"But…Ms. Stratford! If I could just…"
"Either you take a statement from me, Mr. Barker, or none at all," Claire snapped.
Alana breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, her best friend managed to save her from another tight spot. It had probably been a bit foolish of her to go out in public without so much as a pair of sunglasses to conceal her identity, but she'd figured that the press wouldn't find or follow her here. This was supposed to be a quiet, low-key county after all. She'd just assumed she was safe from the scandal hungry hounds.
Clearly she had underestimated her own newsworthiness.
Deciding not to push her luck any further, she fished her cell phone out of her purse and started to dial Warren's number. When he picked up, she quickly asked him to meet her at the parking lot. They were going home.
However, as Alana stepped off the escalator that led to the ground floor, she was dismayed to see not just another TV news crew, but three photographers, probably all the way from New York City's sleazy tabloids. They started snapping away with their cameras the moment Alana came within focus.
"Ms. Stratford! Jessica Taylor, Channel 9 News." The female reporter shoved the microphone in her hand under Alana's nose. "You've been in rehab at the Xavier Institute for a week now. Tell us about the course of your therapy there. Is it true they are training you to strengthen your mutation, instead of teaching you how to fight it?"
"No comment," Alana said, ignoring the microphone and ducking past the reporter without giving the camera so much as a glance.
"Alana! Alana, look this way!" one of the tabloid photographers shouted. Alana held her head stiffly and turned her face away from the camera flashes.
Her walk had doubled in speed now, as she was starting to panic. The cameras kept moving in front of her, making it difficult to evade the focus of their lens. Worse, these people all seemed intent on blocking her exit from the mall. They were not about to let her pass without getting the scoop they wanted.
"Ms. Stratford, please wait!"
Alana felt her face heat up with increasing frustration and annoyance when suddenly Alan Barker and his cameraman appeared out of no where from behind her and joined the line of people shoving themselves in front of her.
"I'm sorry, but I will be giving no statements today," she said loudly. She could already feel herself quickly losing control on her temper. She glared at the particularly obnoxious photographer. "And no more pictures, either."
"Just one question, Ms. Stratford!"
"How about a smile there?"
"Look this way please."
"Alana! Alana!"
"No! I said no!" Alana snapped, and tried once again to push her way through. This time, the TV reporters finally backed away, but two of the photographers kept on snapping away, walking beside her and crossing her path as she stormed her way to the mall exit.
"Come on, sweetheart, do something sexy!" the obnoxious one called out, grinning. "Give us a pose! Do something freaky!"
He stepped directly in front of Alana and snapped his lens close to her face, causing her to finally blow up.
"Stop it!" she shouted.
Before she even realized it, the man's camera was knocked out of his hands, and he was pushed back hard, stumbling a few feet across the floor before falling flat on his bottom.
Alana stared down at the photographer in horror, her face suddenly draining of color. What has she done!
The man lifted a shaky hand and pointed a finger at Alana. "You…you…!" he sputtered, his expression a mix of triumph and awe. "You are a mutant!"
The rest of the paparazzi broke through their stunned silence and began crowding Alana again, much more fervently this time, shouting their questions and calling her name. Now desperate to get away, Alana pushed past them forcibly and made a break for the exit. She could sense them all chasing after her, just a few steps behind.
Heart pounding, the frightened girl burst through the mall doors and dashed down the steps leading to the street. The parking lot was just a few more feet away. If she could just get to her car, she'd be safe. She needed to get back to the safety of the mansion.
She paused and turned her gaze back to check if the paparazzi were still following her. Sure enough, they had also exited the mall, with their cameras all still aimed at her. She kept running.
"Watch out!"
The deafening sound of a car horn rang in her ears. She screamed and raised her hands instinctively. Something hard and heavy slammed onto her, seizing her around the waist and throwing her off her feet. At the same time, a dull but immensely excruciating pain shot throughout the entire right side of her body. She couldn't breathe. Her head spun with agony.
Her back was now flat on the hot concrete. Her skin felt warm and sticky in some places. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to register the face that was hovering just a few inches above hers. Though her senses were quickly failing her, there was no mistaking that hard face and gruff expression.
Logan.
Then all went black.
To be continued…
