June 25, 2006: And here is Part One of Chapter Six. :)
Please see previous disclaimers for details regarding this story, though I will repeat…
… that I have taken a few liberties with the Marvel Universe - not unlike Marvel ;) - but that it should still be recognizable. I do not own these characters - except for the ones I created for the story - and make no monies from writing about them. This is just for fun, folks. :)
This has not been Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.
Words bracketed by '/' are in another language.
There are still a lot of students in this chapter. Don't worry if you get lost when a bunch of them are talking, though I've set up '…' after each segment to help determine that a different group is speaking now. You'll see what I mean. :)
My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. This chapter is a bit shorter, but that's just how the story worked.
Enjoy!
Smashing Through the Looking Glass
Chapter Six
Whole Enchilada
August 5, 2004 9:45 PM
"So… that's it," I finish, rather lamely considering the nature of my presentation. "That's the whole enchilada." A fitting phrase, considering we've just destroyed a piñata. I should feel tired but I'm not. I have no idea where I'm getting all this energy. At least I don't feel so vulnerable anymore, the bikini having been replaced by my familiar old jeans with the hole in the right knee and my Superman t-shirt. I'm still wearing my sandals, though, a bit of summer I'm clinging to tonight. The caterers have left, so I'm glad I'm not hungry anymore. There are leftovers, and I know where they are if an emergency arises.
I've just covered the highlights of what I sensed during the destruction of the candy-filled burro with a select group, once more gathering in the study of Professor Charles Xavier. The strange event seems to tie in with what I - with what Jean sensed about the mirror in the office of Mr. Summers. Oh, maybe we both have our doubts about that mirror. Who knows? This led to an explanation about my 'connection' with Dr. Grey for those who weren't in the study earlier.
Bobby won't look at me. After an initial horrified stare, he couldn't deal with me being in his head, I guess. It's not like I intended to do it, or found out anything interesting while I was there. Whatever. I'm a bit overwhelmed, though I try not to show it, and I can't handle his pain as well. At least Sam isn't behaving like he's been violated. It's all Jean's fault. Well, she read my mind and took matters into her own hands, so I'm not gonna analyze it beyond that, not now, not yet. Jean's fault.
If Jean really is still out there…I can't properly express how pleased I am to be included in this meeting, not that I have much choice since I am kinda the focus here. However, certain members of the student body have also been included, and I smile in spite of the unusual circumstances.
Amazingly, it's only taken about fifteen minutes, including some questions. I knew the X-Men were efficient but… whoa.
"Freaky," Jubilee murmurs.
"You're telling me?"
"Does this… connection with Dr. Grey hurt Kitty in any way?"
Oh, I do think you're sweet, Peter.
"Not as far as we can tell." The Professor frowns. "Unfortunately, I'm having difficulty finding out any information regarding their ability to communicate, beyond the fact the Dr. Grey is a telepath and telekinetic with latent strength, it would appear." He sighs. I know how he feels. It's been a long day. "Jean seems to have evolved to another level of existence, her mutant abilities having been forced to progress beyond what she may have accomplished in her entire life if not provoked. We think the trigger was the situation at Alkali Lake."
Silence. No doubt, each of us is dealing with the news the best we can, with varying degrees of pain.
Jean…"Ah have a question."
"Yes, Sam?"
"If this mirror somehow belongs to the… other world Kitty experienced in the garden, does that mean it's some sort of portal? An' if so, should we destroy it?"
"We don't understand the part it has to play in this yet." Mr. Summers straightens. "We could be acting too quickly and perhaps seal a path we have to this world. If they can come here, we might need it to go there if we have to confront whatever it is they're doing."
That sounded good, if a bit convoluted, but a trickle of concern creeps through: he saw Jean in a mirror. Jean touched his hand in a mirror. Damage any of the mansion's mirrors -
"- the white thing in the woods?"
I start when I realize everyone is looking at me. I've just been asked a question. I feel myself flush slightly.
"Um, sorry, Rogue. What was that?"
"What was the white thing in the woods, again?"
I sigh. "A rabbit." Jubilee snorts. Almost everyone looks at her. She shrugs.
"Hey, I didn't name it 'Harvey'. She came up with that all by herself."
"It's a movie, actually," I clarify. "I borrowed the name."
"Is it some sort of spirit, perhaps?" Dani hasn't said much until now. I understand a spirit bear had something to do with the death of her parents and she believes it's hunting her. I shiver.
"'A Midsummer Night's Dream'," comes a quiet, accented voice from the corner. Well, the upper corner of the study, where Mr. Wagner is sitting on top of a bookshelf. He's a bit hunched, but seems comfortable and perfectly balanced. He's still using his holographic device and resembles how I envision a gypsy prince should look, only in jeans and a navy cotton shirt. I don't know very much German, oddly enough, since I'm sufficiently proficient in French and Japanese to converse if things don't go by too rapidly. My Polish isn't much better, either, which is a shame as I learned a bit of both when I was little. I wanted to be able to communicate with my grandmother in her native language, though my father wasn't fond of the idea. Foolish man. Deny your heritage and you deny who you are, I say. Problem is, I haven't spoken either language in a while. I'm trying to remember the German word for 'friend'. Ah.
"Where the faerie realm crosses over into the human realm, mein freund," I muse aloud.
Mr. Wagner smiles down at me. It's a nice smile, really. He seems shy right now, yet other times he's so exuberant. He's been through a lot, I gather. I thought I had it rough when I had acne until I met him. Being blue and resembling a demon must be wearing on his soul.
"I've seen that play," Ms. Munroe says, thoughtful. "And I don't recall any rabbits or piñatas."
"It's a rough analogy, not an exact one, I think," the Professor says.
Bobby raises his hand. It's a habit he seems to have when in a gathering, but oddly, he never uses it when he's in class.
"Uh, question? What was the piñata, then, if it wasn't a piñata?" I think he's skeptical about the whole thing but trying to be game and follow events.
"Here, it was just a piñata. There, it was… something else. I don't know. But whatever it was, it's dead now and not suffering anymore."
"So we killed it?" Rogue asks quietly.
"I put it out of its misery. Someone else started the torture. That much I can tell you. We aren't responsible for that death." Rogue still doesn't look happy. I don't blame her. I'm mad as hell.
Logan walks into the study without knocking, saying, "We got the bonfire started and Hank's gettin' the kids lined up with hot dogs and sticks."
"Thank you, Logan." The Professor sighs again. "I'm glad we can continue with the party, in spite of the situation. The students have been looking forward to this all summer, and the new arrivals deserve a happy welcome."
"Xi'an is helpin' direct traffic. She seems to be a good kid."
"She's eighteen and had younger siblings," Mr. Summers says. Had. Past tense. I wonder what happened to her family.
"Russell won't stop tellin' jokes," Logan grumbles and crosses his arms.
"Is something wrong with that, Logan? Are the jokes of a questionable nature?" Trust the Professor's gentle voice to smooth things out, like getting the carpet to fit right with furniture.
"No," he admits. "Somethin' about him just bugs me, is all." He frowns. "He smells… wrong."
The Professor sighs. I think he'll be doing that a lot for a while. "There hasn't been time to brief all of you about the new students, and we don't really have time right now. Suffice it to say that Russell Harker is a complicated young man, Logan. He probably 'smells wrong' because he's technically dead."
My head snaps up and most of the room exclaims, "What?"
"I want all of you to be vigilant tonight," our mentor continues, the topic of Russell apparently closed for discussion. "I don't want to alarm the others or cancel the festivities. Nothing has directly assaulted us yet. Except for Jean's contact with Kitty, of course." I notice Peter, Sam and Dani in particular frown at that and I feel protected. Despite having a mutant ability and being a brain and an independent young woman and all that, I like that I have friends who care about what happens to me. Anyone who would say otherwise is either oblivious, an idiot or both. It makes me feel warmer than my fuzzy bunny slippers. A frown forms on my face when I realize I can't recall when I last saw my fuzzy bunny slippers.
"Touch base with one another frequently, please. I leave it to your discretion to report anything you deem unusual." He looks around the room, giving anyone who has any questions an opportunity to speak.
Silence.
"I'll brief Hank and Logan," Scott says. Logan stiffens and darts a look in my direction. He knows some of what's going on, of course, but in helping with the bonfire, he missed some of the details. I stare at the hole in my jeans as if contemplating a repair job.
"Thank you, Scott." No one moves, though. "I suggest we hasten to the lake, lest all the hot dogs be gone before we arrive."
I smile. The Professor sometimes sounds like Dr. McCoy. Or is that the other way around?
"Alright, people. Let's move!"
Sam turns confidently for the door, having made this statement, and I smile when almost everyone follows him out. If he ever runs for President, I'll not only vote for him but avidly campaign and beg for a position in his government.
Mr. Summers and Logan look from the Professor to Mr. Wagner to me and to each other and leave when we don't make a move for the door. Their footsteps barely echo on the marble flooring.
"You must tell me the truth, Kitty." Part Two of the Lecture approaches. I brace myself. "Are you really feeling well enough to continue this evening, knowing that you might possibly have to be involved in whatever develops?"
"I think I have to be, Professor. But, yes," I rush on, wanting to reassure him and remove the concern from his face. "I'll be okay. It's weird and I wish I understood it all better than I do, but I'm okay. I promise I'll tell someone if I'm not." I smile, hoping he's convinced. I hope I'm convinced, too.
The Professor smiles back. "I'm sorry, Kitty." He leaves it at that, which is a good thing as far as I'm concerned. I didn't want to hear the man I respect and view as a father-figure say, "I guess you'll have to do some quick growing up, little girl."
"We will all look out for you, Katchen," Mr. Wagner states firmly. First Peter, now… Why are people using terms of endearment with me all of a sudden? 'Katya', 'Neko', 'Katchen'… I shake my head, bewildered but still having that fuzzy bunny slipper mood, and stand.
"Well, I don't want to miss my hot dog so -"
Bamf!
Mr. Wagner teleports from his perch and appears beside me, straightening. The smell of sulphur fills my nostrils and I try not to sneeze or flinch. I'm not used to this yet. He doesn't hang out with the students much, and when he does, he doesn't usually teleport.
"Allow me to escort you, Kitty," says the gypsy prince and offers me his arm.
When did it suddenly become in vogue to treat me like a lady?
"Thank you," I say, not knowing how else to respond, and place my arm through his, resting my hand on his forearm. I'm surprised when his other hand covers mine and I do flinch a little then. I sense him hesitate and before he can remove his hand I turn mine and give him a gentle squeeze. It feels different from what I can see, of course. Gotta love holographic technology.
"It's okay," I say, smiling up at him in a manner I hope is reassuring. He smiles back. The Professor indicates with a nod that he'll be along shortly and I am propelled through the open doorway and down the hall to the kitchen door. The gypsy prince moves swiftly and gracefully. He holds the door open for me.
"Thank you, Mr. Wagner," I say and give him a little curtsy, which is a weird thing to do in jeans, I know, but a little levity seems appropriate.
"You are welcome, but please, call me Kurt."
I'll try, mein freund.