June 28, 2006: And here is Part Two 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.

There are still a lot of students in this chapter - and they aren't going away anytime soon. 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. You'll see what I mean - though by now, if I've done my job correctly, you probably recognize certain characters like Hank McCoy and Sam Guthrie when they speak… :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. This part of Chapter Six is a longer than the first part. It just seemed to fit that way.

I have to add: I have just returned from the cinema and have now seen the third X-Men movie. Interesting choices were made that wouldn't necessarily have been my choices, but then, look what I'm writing, lol? ;)

Without spoiling the plot, I can say I wanted to see more of the team - where did Kurt go? - and the likes of Peter and Hank - and yes, it needed more Kitty Pryde, too. I liked the actress they cast for her character, though. Good look, right build, handled herself well. :D

Excelsior!

Smashing Through the Looking Glass

Chapter Six: Part Two

Whole Enchilada

"- and so the other broom says, 'But we haven't even swept together!'"

Not the most amazing joke ever, but for some reason, it's hilarious when told by the London-accented young man standing closest to the fire, while the rest of us sit on the grass nearby. We are far from the giant oak tree. The laughter is contagious and I can almost forget the more serious and puzzling events of the day. We're just friends, enjoying a warm night in early August, waiting for the summer to wind down like a dreidel before we become students full-time again and really have to hit the books.

At least Russell is keeping it fairly clean, potty mouth though he seems to be by nature. I even know the joke and I still laugh with the others.

"That's enough from me," Russell is saying, moving to snag another tin foiled s'more from the base of the fire with a pair of long tongs. "Someone else can get up here." He's had five s'mores already - I'm only on my third - on top of six hot dogs, and I don't know how he can breathe, let alone talk with so much food in him.

Then I realize he probably doesn't have to breathe and I feel my smile diminish. Dead. The Professor said he was technically dead. I try to ignore the fact that I've just rhymed. Russell has taken hold of the tin foil pouch, chatting with Sam about something, not reacting to the heat that should be burning his skin right now. Sam has noticed. I see his eyes flicker down, some alarm building in them. Russell's skin is fine, however, and if he's aware of anyone's scrutiny, he doesn't show it. He laughs. It's a good laugh. I'm glad whatever happened to him hasn't silenced it forever.

"Tell us a story, Dani," Alison says eagerly, and other students take up the plea.

"How about the one where the rabbit loses his tail?" Dave suggests, his dreadlocks bobbing as he looks to the others for support.

Oh.

"I don't think I will tell that one tonight," Dani says carefully, her eyes glancing towards me. Rabbits. Um, maybe not. I mouth a quick 'Thank you' to her. She returns with a slight nod.

"How 'bout Raven's pot, then?"

I swivel enough to look at Logan, who is on his third hot dog, for the record. He hasn't been at the school very long, but he's either heard about Dani Moonstar and her Native North American legends or he was in the shadows when she last gave a telling. That was about two weeks ago. Both are possible but my bet is on the latter. After all, who would know he was there?

"Alright," she says and stands, moving in front of the fire. She closes her eyes and we go quiet. When she opens them again, there is a subtle change about her, as if she is channelling all the storytellers from her tribe going back thousands of years. I think of the spirit bear, hunting her, and at moments like this, the threat seems real.

"There was a time when only the Darkness existed, where the sky and the earth and the moon and the stars were only thoughts in the heads of the beings that existed in the Darkness. You know this story." Most of us nod, having heard that tale from her before, entranced by her form and voice as it rides the crackles of the fire behind her. "Raven decided to stir the pot, so those in the darkness would have somewhere to be, and the earth and sky became. The pot is a powerful thing and must not be played with, or the consequences would be dire." She leans forward ever so slightly, as if the grouping were more intimate, her voice now a whisper. We strain to hear her every word. "There was one amongst them who thought he could make things better. This is the story of the third time Coyote stole Raven's pot…"

I let her voice wash over me, knowing the story and basking in the warmth of the fire and the moment. Beside me, I'm aware that Kale has shifted and is now crawling over to where the tongs hang on a metal pole, which was specifically placed here many years ago for that purpose. He doesn't want to stand during the story and I'm sure Dani appreciates that, but the lure of the s'mores has him hooked and he just can't wait until the end. Kale has a sweet tooth to put us all to shame. Good thing he's so active or we'd have to roll him into class. I close my eyes and listen to the story, contemplating another s'more myself.

Someone sits beside me but it isn't Kale; his place has been taken. Tentatively, I inhale to see if I can tell who it is like Logan would do. I smell chocolate and marshmallows. I hear tin foil crinkling and someone breathing through their nose while they chew. Breathing. Until that point, I thought I knew who it was. I open my eyes and confirm my guess: Russell.

He grins at me, his lips covered in goo. "Cheers," he whispers. I stare at him, confused.

"You're breathing." My voice is so quiet, I can barely hear it, and I suddenly hope he can't. What a stupid thing to say, Pryde.

He hesitates, his large blue eyes regarding me sadly, then he finishes chewing and swallows. "Habit."

"I'm sorry," I mumble, feeling stupid.

"s'alright, luv," he says and takes one of my hands in his. I give it a squeeze. His hand is cool but not cold. I can feel his pulse at his wrist. How can he be technically dead and still have his heart beating, blood flowing through his veins, lungs pumping…

I lean closer to him, so my mouth is against his ear, not wanting to disturb anyone around us. "That's your sixth smore."

He trembles a bit and I wonder if he's feeling cold. There is a breeze coming off the lake but it's still a warm night. Being dead might modify his sensations, of course. He leans into my ear, his warm breath tingling my skin.

"I didn't know anyone was counting," he whispers, then adds, "But s'mores are much better than… brains." He drags out the last word, like a zombie in a B-Horror flick. I stifle a laugh, though whether it's from his impersonation or having my ear tickled, I'm not certain. I briefly wonder if that means he's actually eaten a brain, but decide not to pursue that line of thought. Russell isn't a zombie, in the traditional Hollywood sense, anyway. He isn't a vampire either, I'm pretty sure of that. A ghoul? That's a possibility, from what I've read. I shiver at the thought.

"Cold, luv?" The dead boy puts his arm around my shoulders and takes another bite from his s'more. I sit very still, not sure what to do, say or feel.

"I'm okay," I finally manage, hoping the casual tone I'm aiming for can be conveyed through a whisper. He chuckles quietly and I shiver again. Get a grip, Pryde. He's not going to eat you, for crying out loud.

Then his mouth is by my ear again. "I could eat you, if you like."

I turn so quickly to look at him that our heads nearly collide.

He smiles. "You know, eat your brain, luv."

"Ah, yes," I whisper, flushing at the thought that first entered my head and hoping the night conceals it. "I see what you mean, but no, I don't want you to eat my brains. I like them where they are." He squeezes my hand in acknowledgement and takes another bite of his s'more.

I know I won't do anything like that, like what I thought he'd said, not with Russell, not having known him less than twenty-four hours, for crying out loud. Others might think me a prude, but when I get curious enough and want to explore feelings like that, it will be with someone who is a good friend, someone I trust and know and love, not something casual. It isn't that I can't; I won't. I choose not to. It's like my life is a play: must be true to the character.

And Uncle Stan would have a fit if I gave in to such things, I think, smiling, hoping I see him in Manhattan this Hanukah.

Jubilee says she's "explored" - don't know with whom and don't really want that image in my head, thank you very much - but she hasn't "done it yet", as she so eloquently put it. We have tons of time to take it slow and not rush into something like that, but sometimes I wonder about kids today… There I go, sounding old again.

Den mother…

"Coyote was very sorry for what he did and waited for his punishment. But Raven did not punish him. He forgave him and made him promise to never stir the pot again." Dani grins and I can envision Coyote's expression as she lifts her crossed fingers from behind her back and says knowingly, "And everyone knows how Coyote keeps his promises."

There is lots of applause and a few whoops from an appreciative audience. People stand and stretch and thank Dani as she moves through the crowd. I stand, too.

"I think I need another s'more," I say, looking down at Russell's upturned face. He grins and stands quickly and I remember how he was with that staff at the piñata. Maybe I couldn't take him in a fight, after all.

"Oddly enough, mine seems to have disappeared." He winks. "I need another one, too."

We move towards the fire and wait in turn for the tongs, for the line is long. I catch snippets of conversation.

"Great story, Dani."

"Thank you, Logan."

"You'll let us know when Coyote starts causin' trouble again."

"I'll certainly keep you posted."…

"Thanks, Dani."

"You're welcome, Alison."

"It works really well with the fire behind you like that. Spooky."…

"How many s'mores have you had, Kale?"

"Only five, Mr. Guthrie."

"Seven."

The friendly smack of a palm on skin.

"Thanks for the support, Dave."

"Any time, bro'."…

"It is a tale to learn from, Lady Amara."

"Indeed, Roberto. I had no idea these gods existed and were so revered."

"Well, I imagine that depends who you talk to, luv."

"As you say, Jack. They are very different from my gods…"…

"Are there any hot dogs?"

"Haven't you had enough, Pietro?"

"Nope."

"I'll see if there's any left…"…

"…Though I never juggled with more than four torches at once."

"Amazin'. Bobby, did you hear what Mr. Wagner just said?"

"Yeah, juggling torches. Doesn't sound too hard."

The friendly smack of a gloved hand on skin.

"Well, it doesn't!"…

"Anything unusual, Professor?"

"Nothing I am aware of, Ororo."

"It is difficult to be vigilant when the we are so poorly informed about the true nature of our circumstances."

"Indeed, Hank."…

"I dinna understand why Raven lets him near the pot at all. Why not lock it away?"

"Unfortunately, the pot is Everything and Nothing, Here and Nowhere, and therefore easy and difficult to guard."

"Och. Am I supposed to understand that, Ms. Moonstar?"

"It's okay if you don't. And please, call me Dani."…

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"
"No."

"I'll be good 'til Christmas."

The heavy sigh of someone trying to be strong.

"Alright, Kale, but this is your last s'more tonight."

"Thank you, Mr. Guthrie!"

"Does that mean I can have another one, too?"

"Ah have to draw the line somewhere, Iz."

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"…

"I can't eat another bite!"

"I wouldn't if I were you, Ang. You shouldn't have let that boy talk you into 'just one more'."

"But they are so good!"

"And now you feel sick, girl. I see I should have a talk with Mr. Harker."…

"Great story, Dani."

"Thank you, Sam."

"It'd blow their minds if they knew Raven and them really existed, wouldn't it?"

"As sure as Kentucky grass is blue, my friend."…

Russell turns to me at the mention of his name.

"Sounds like you're in trouble, mister," I say.

"Keisha's gonna kick my arse!"

"Guess you shouldn't have tried to make Angie eat another s'more."

"Get one for me, will ya?"

"Uh, sure." He glances to one side and I sense Keisha is on her way.

"Meet me at the stables." He bolts from the line and is gone.

"Where did that boy go?"

I smile at Keisha and shrug. "I think he said something about needing to pee." I manage to keep my voice casual and hope my expression remains innocent. I can even look her in the eye, and everything. Guess I'm good at this.

Her eyes narrow but she doesn't say anything more about it. "Nice place you have here."

"I call it home." I hold up two fingers and extend a wad of paper towel to protect my hands from the worst of the heat, thanking Sam very much for the two s'mores, absently wondering about what I heard him say to Dani about Raven.

"How convenient that Mr. Harker's bladder should make demands on him now."

"Why? Has he done something?"

Those eyes look at me again. I try to appear as innocent as possible without being suspiciously so. "Angie can't take a lot of sweet foods," she says finally. "It… aggravates her mutant ability."

"Really? What's that?"

"How long you been here?"

Hmmm, sudden topic change. I let it go. "Almost four years now."

"That's a long time."

I shrug again and we move off so others in the line behind us can get their fix.

"Feels like forever some days."

"Hey, Kitty! Did you ever get that paper done?"

"Yeah, I did. Thanks, Syrin."

"So, what is it that brings you here, girl?"

Ah. That question. At this rate, Russell will never get his s'more. I take a bite of mine, trying to decide how much I should tell her. I get the impression that the Professor wants to be more formal when we all introduce our powers, or at least have it done in a controlled environment. The only reason I know about Jack and mirrors was out of necessity, and with Russell -

"I can phase through things," I say, settling for the truth and keeping it short.

"Things?"

"Solid objects, you know, walk through walls like a ghost." It's the easiest example I can think of, and one I figure most people will be able to visualize.

"A ghost?" I stop and look at her as I take another bite. She seems a bit uncertain about this news. "Ghosts can have a lot of power."

"I'm not actually a ghost, though," I say through chews. I decide it's time to divert this topic. "What about you?"

"Targeting." Well, that's short and sweet and really useful, I say - in my mind.

"That doesn't explain why you're here. You can have good aim, but how is that a mutant power anyone will notice?"

"I target souls," she replies, and I have an inkling about her reaction to my ability.

"There you are!" It's Angie, looking a bit green. She takes Keisha by the arm. "Ms. Munroe is taking me inside, to see if we can find something for my stomach. Please come with me?"

The goddess places a hand on Angie's shoulder, reassuring her that all will be well with a smile. I've seen that look before, and hope Angie really is all right.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so, Kitty. We'll be back soon, I'm sure."

The three of them move towards the mansion and I dawdle by the fire, finishing my s'more then wander casually in the direction of the stables.

Russell is outside one of the stalls, sitting on a bale of straw and staring rapturously at Dani's horse. I take a deep breath. Straw, manure, wood and horse sweat. Oddly, it smells good.

"Here you go," I say, passing him his s'more. He doesn't look at where it is but reaches for it unerringly. He takes a bite and finally pulls his eyes away from Brightwind.

"We didn't get in here on the tour," he says, speaking in a hushed voice as if he were in a library.

"Brightwind is an unusual horse." Once again, I wonder how much I should tell him. I sigh. "Let's just say that he doesn't easily trust and might be nervous with a crowd. You'd all meet him, eventually."

He swallows.

"And - and those are -"

"Wings. Yes. He can fly. Whatever you do, don't ever try to mount him. Neither he nor Dani would be pleased."

"This is Dani's horse?"

"Yep. And one of her best friends." I rummage in the feed bin and pull out a carrot. Brightwind's head sticks over the stall door and his lips take it from my hand. He knickers softly. "You're welcome."

"Oh, so your mutant ability is talking to animals?"

Brightwind flicks his ears and snorts. I smile and he lets me stroke his neck. "I wouldn't call him an animal, if I were you."

"About your mutant ability?"

I shake my head, deciding once without permission was sufficient. "Uh-uh."

He wiggles his eyebrows in a lecherous manner. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"I bet you've got some etchings you'd like to show me, too."

"Oh, yeah."

We both laugh, knowing it's only fun, just verbal banter.

"Sorry, Russell, but not tonight."

"When, then? Tomorrow?"

I think about everything that's happened today and wonder how I'll get through the night, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

And terrified of what will come.

"No doubt," I say solemnly, touching Brightwind's mane gently, "tomorrow you'll be told the whole enchilada."

"Isn't that Mexican food?"

"It's also a way of saying you won't be able to avoid the truth, every last detail, even if you wanted to."

There's an awkward pause.

"Sounds ominous, Kitty."

"It was meant to, Russell." I look into the horse's eyes and wish I could communicate with him, ask him if he can sense anything wrong. "It was meant to."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's late and the curfew has come and gone, much to the disappointment of the younger students. They're smiling as they file into the mansion, though, and many can't conceal a yawn or two. Lots of fun and food and exercise will do that to you. The bonfire has been thoroughly doused and garbage put in the proper bins. We're neat at Xavier's.

I find Ms. Munroe and ask about Angie.

"She will be fine," she says, revealing nothing. "She just needs to rest."

Okey-doke…

It's like an episode of 'The Waltons' right now, as everyone calls 'Goodnight!' to their friends at the back stairs in the kitchen and the main stairs in the hall. At least there's no one trying to sleep. The noise calms a bit as people separate and go down different corridors to their rooms.

Rahne is beside me as the crowd thins.

"I dinna have time to say anythin' before, Kitty, it was all so exciting, but - I'm going to be your new roommate." She looks down at her feet, as if she should be apologizing. "I hope that's alright."

I notice she's carrying a suitcase, which must have been stored in the hall closet or something since the new students arrived. I place a hand on her shoulder. "Rahne." I wait for her to look up at me. When she does, I smile. "I'm happy to have a roomie again." I've enjoyed my solitude but the option of company is always nice. "Neither of us had a choice about where you'd bunk. I tend to stay up late and work on my computer and have friends who can only go on-line at odd hours 'cause they live in a different time zone." I wink. "I hope that's alright."

Rahne beams.

"Och, aye."

I didn't know people actually said that; I thought it was a Hollywood stereotype of the Scots. You learn something new every day. I release her shoulder and we continue to my - our room. I get the key from my right back pocket and retrieve my PDA from my left back pocket as I wiggle the lock. Rahne waits for me to reach around to my right and flick on the overhead lights before she follows me inside.

"Oooo, it's lovely," she says reverently and moves towards the window. The security lights are on in the basketball court and there are a few more around the mansion and the perimeter of the property. A double line of them curves through the trees to our left, towards the main road, highlighting the driveway that leads to the gate.

"We're on the southwest side," I say, closing and locking the door. I place my PDA and my key in the drawer of my bedside table. She stands there, holding her suitcase, looking lost and hopeful at the same time. "That's your bed." I point to the other side of the room. "And your desk and computer are here." The backs of our desks are against one another, providing a sort of divider without completely separating the room. She takes it all in with huge eyes that rival Russell's but doesn't move. Whatever.

I realize one panel of the window is still open from earlier and I crank it shut and lock it, thinking of the air conditioning and Wanda's warning. Someone is moving on the grounds, towards the stables. By the light of the moon and the hazy glow of various security lights, I can make out enough to know the person is tall and slender and has long dark hair, currently in two braids: Dani. Brightwind can't really be left to roam the pasture in broad daylight, what with the wings and all, and he doesn't get much exercise as a result. I smile and close all the blinds.

"There," I say, and turn around to my new roommate. "Complete privacy." At this declaration, she does move towards her bed and places her suitcase on it. I remove my sandals and jeans and turn my back to strip my t-shirt and bra, not wanting to embarrass her. She's very shy and probably not used to cohabitating. I find a tank top that's not in the laundry hamper and pull it on. A pair of loose, cut-off sweat shorts completes my summer night ensemble.

When I'm done, I glance at Rahne. She's unzipped her case and opened it, but seems distracted by the sheets. One hand touches them tentatively then more boldly, as if she doesn't believe they're that soft.

"They're so soft," she breathes.

"Two hundred and eighty thread count," I say, and she looks up at me, startled. I guess she didn't realize she'd spoken out loud. "There's a blanket in the chest at the foot of your bed. It's one hundred percent wool and will probably be all you need for the winters here." I grin. "It was made in Scotland." She giggles. "The sheets are Egyptian cotton. Your pillow is allergy free foam and your mattress will mold to your body so well you won't want to get up in the morning. Your duvet is polished cotton stuffed with goose feathers and was hand-made in Connecticut by a woman named Sue."

Rahne blinks. "Are you kidding with me?"

"Nope."

"Why did you memorize all that information?"

I shrug and make sure the brass bell is within easy reach, just in case.

"I didn't. I read anything once and it's there." I snap my fingers. "Instant recall, it seems."

"Oh, my. Is that - I mean, your special gift -"

"No." I sit on my bed and hug my knees, wriggling my toes against the duvet. "That's just how I'm hardwired."

She swallows. "Oh, my."

I laugh. "Yeah. Ask anyone if they want to play Trivial Pursuit with me and they'll probably say something like, 'Only if she's on my team.'" She looks disconcerted. "I'm not bragging, Rahne. That's just the way it is."

"Oh," she says, and unpacks her suitcase. I direct her to the chest of drawers, which is in the bottom half of her side of the closet. "That must come in very handy for school," she adds.

"I guess." I lean against my headboard and watch her putter.

How long will it take me to go to sleep tonight?

To Be Continued…