July 15, 2006: Sorry for the delay in posting. Real Life took the front seat for a bit.
You might be relieved to note that this Author's Note is actually going to be really short. Please see disclaimers on previous chapters if you feel so inclined.
The X-Men and related characters are not mine but anyone you don't recognize probably is mine. Not been Betaed, yadda, yadda, yadda.
My thanks to those who read and to those who opt to review. Your feedback is greatly appreciated. :)
Enjoy!
Smashing Through the Looking Glass
Chapter Seven: Part One
Whistling in the Dark
August 6, 2004, 2:06 AM
I'm lying in bed, wondering why I'm suddenly awake, at two-oh-six in the morning on a Friday. There's no reason to be up so late. My on-line friends aren't expecting me to chat and I handed in my last assignment yesterday. I wouldn't have even had that assignment if I weren't taking extra courses. Learning continues during the summer at Xavier's but definitely on a less hectic schedule - unless you're me, that is. I like school - most of the time - though Jubilee thinks I'm masochistic.
I blink at the red numbers on my digital clock and listen for something, anything, to explain my sudden alertness.
Rahne is snoring, very gently. That couldn't be it. I stretch, and my right arm cramps. I realize I fell asleep on my side while still talking to my new roommate. We chatted about the evening and she talked a bit about the flight over from England as we drifted in and out of consciousness. I'm not even under the covers. Sitting up isn't too bad. I rub my eyes and give a good stretch and feeling returns to my arm. It'll stop hurting in a minute, though. It's so quiet I can hear the click of the digital number turning from a six to a seven.
Why am I awake?
I perform a quick check. Not hungry and don't need to pee. The latter piece of information is amazing, considering the amount of food and drink I consumed at the barbeque. My stomach doesn't ache - another miracle - and other than my temporarily cramped arm, nothing hurts.
For some reason, I'm thinking of when Russell and I left the stables last night.
Keisha wasn't waiting to "kick his arse", as he'd so eloquently put it. She was still in the house with Ms. Munroe and Angie. He'd dug into his jean pocket and fished out a cigarette, lit it with a match from a crumbled matchbook advertising a pub. I gave him the standard look of disapproval I use when it comes to something like smoking.
He'd smiled quietly and said, "What's it gonna do, luv? Kill me?"
And I hadn't known what to say.
Now I'm wondering if he even sleeps.
I sniff the air but don't smell smoke. Xavier's has a no smoking policy in all its buildings so I'm not surprised. Wasn't what woke me, then.
In the dim room I see my desk chair and the pair of jeans, without holes, draped there from the pool incident. The moon is creeping around the edges of the blinds. Between it and the night light near the door, I feel I can move around without fear of kicking something or accidentally waking Rahne. I put on my sandals, again thinking of my errant bunny slippers, take the key from my drawer and grab my still-damp jeans. After dragging my fingers through my hair a few times, I put it up in a hasty bun with an elastic and head out the door. The lock clicks very quietly. I look up and down the hall, not knowing why I might expect to see someone there. It is empty. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I head towards the main stairs.
I reach the laundry room without incident and take a quick sniff of my jeans: chlorine. They need to be washed before they can hit the dryer. I sigh and set the machine for a small load. The knob makes noise when I turn it and the water whooshes like Niagara but I'm nowhere near anyone's bedroom and the door is almost closed. I add detergent and stuff my jeans in and close the lid. It starts to beat the denim senseless and with any luck, I'll be able to wear them tomorrow and not smell like the pool.
Twenty minutes before I can put them in the dryer.
I drum my fingers on the machine and look around for something to occupy my time. The laundry room has ten washers and dryers, including two of each that are large load, and dry cleaning equipment. What, they're gonna send out a bunch of outfits made of unstable molecules that look like black leather to the laundry mat? Just paint a target on the roof of the school or post a sign at the gate: 'Secret Superhero Team Lives Here'. Yeah, that'd be good. As it is, Magneto probably has our address burned into his mind. Bad enough that Stryker found us, too.
I check all the machines to make sure no-one left a load to mould in the wash. All empty and spotless. I check the dryers next, cleaning out a few lint trays and finding one argyle sock. I leave it in the 'Lost and Found' bin on one of the folding tables. After straightening the boxes of detergent and sprays and dryer sheets and so on, I check the small, adjoining washroom. Towel dispenser has towels, toilet paper holder has toilet paper, and the porcelain is sparkling…
God bless housekeeping. I sigh and decide I need a glass of water.
And being my usual, lazy self, I take the short cut through the walls to the kitchen, rather than use any of the more conventional routes.
I can hear them as I cross through the billiard room. Whispers and moans, a giggle: Bobby and Rogue. There isn't a lot of conventional, um, 'exploration' they can do, but they both seem to have vivid imaginations. They probably came in from stargazing, as they've been doing a lot this summer, not realizing the time and desperate for a late night snack. The telescope is all the way out by the lake, along the shore from the bonfire area in a specially designed gazebo. I'm not so dense as to realize it's an excellent spot for some intimate activities, but Rogue's astronomy assignment was sufficiently impressive to prove she really has been stargazing.
I enter the kitchen through the wall by the refrigerator, careful to avoid hitting any wires or active appliances. I'm probably one of the few who has taken the time to learn how the mansion is wired. Can't phase through a wall and wipe out someone's computer without suffering incredible consequences.
It's dark and any noise or movement stops as soon as I enter. Guess there's enough light from where they're standing by the microwave to see me. The air smells of reheated burritos. I don't look their way but turn my back to snag a glass from the cupboard. As I fill it with ice and water from the 'fridge door, I hear them whisper but can't understand what they are actually saying. I don't really want to know.
I smile, wondering if I should whistle to myself to cover their conversation.
Whistling in the dark (boom), whistling in the dark (boom)…
Glass full, I take a sip and blithely exit through the eating area table and out into the hall. I think they know that I know they're there, but obviously they are happy to keep our nocturnal prowling separate.
Speaking of nocturnal prowling…
"Mornin', Pryde."
"Mornin', compadre," I respond, doing my best John Wayne.
Logan chuckles and eases away from the wall. Not a lot of shadows in the hall; there has to be enough light for emergency egress. If he held completely still, though, he could probably lurk for hours without anyone noticing him. Does he sleep in his jeans and black tank top?
"Up a little early, aren't'cha?"
"I could say the same of you."
He frowns. "Don't always sleep very well." I wasn't expecting actual information and the surprise must show on my face, even in the dim light of the hallway.
"Oh," I say.
"You get nightmares, too, right? Since the attack?"
Logan just admitted he has nightmares. Why is he telling me this? I'm not a part of his life, like Rogue and Jubilee. Maybe I'm dreaming.
"Yeah." I take another sip of water and suddenly find one of the paintings behind him very interesting. I don't really want to talk about my nightmares.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he says quietly, then does an abrupt topic change by tipping his head towards the kitchen and saying, "They've been in there for fifteen minutes."
Has the air conditioning stopped working? It's warm in here. I try to think of something light to say. "Are you on floor patrol tonight or something?"
"Bet I don't have to guess what they're up to." He's muttering mostly to himself, probably been stewing about it since he came across them.
"I bet you don't -"
"What does she think she's doin'?"
"Logan." Where is this stern voice coming from? "Rogue is old enough to make her own decisions and any meddling or over-protectiveness from you will not be favourably received."
He's looking bewildered and angry now. "Just a goddamned minute -"
"She doesn't need you to be a father figure. She has a boyfriend, Logan. Get over it and move on."
He stops breathing. "Jean?"
Shit. Not again. He's looking into my eyes like he can see her just on the horizon, and if he were to run fast enough, he'd catch her.
"No," I say and close my eyes. "No."
His hands are on my shoulders. His face is close enough that I can tell he's breathing again. "Open your eyes!" He sounds so desperate that I do.
I wish someone would look at me like that.
His expression is very intense, anxious, vulnerable, loving…
"Where are you, Jean?" God, it hurts to listen to him. I can't listen to him, mustn't listen to him…
"I don't know where I am." Standard answer, Dr. Grey. Is it that you don't know or you won't tell us?
"Come home," Logan whispers, his face inches from mine. Beautiful.
Then it all clicks into place. I find some hidden strength and jerk free of his hold.
"That's it, isn't it? That's why I'm getting more than two words from you. I'm just a way to Jean, aren't I?" My voice isn't as calm as I want it to be.
"Kitty -"
"That's why you bother to give me the time of day, because Dr. Grey is somehow communicating with me, possessing me, whatever. That's why I suddenly get noticed."
He's shaking his head. "It's not like that -"
"You'll talk to the others and invite them to your rock garden and show them some fighting moves, but I only matter now that I have Jean."
"Are you alright, Pryde?"
"Oh, whatever!" I spin on my heel - which is a neat trick in sandals - to return the laundry room. He moves to follow me.
"Kitty, damn it -"
I turn on him, exasperated. "And don't swear! This is a school! No potty mouths allowed!"
"Keep your voice down, darlin'." Logan makes gestures of placation with both hands but I don't want to play that game.
"Or what?" I guess the straw broke the camel's back more than once, 'cause this is at least the second time today I've had enough. "You're gonna tell me I'm grounded? Increase my curfew? Double my homework? Threaten me? What? I'm ready. Bring it on!"
"Kitty -"
"I'm sorry, Jean can't come out and play right now. Why don't you go bother Jubilee, since Rogue is obviously occupied? I have laundry to do."
He grabs my arm. I phase out of his hold and stalk away. His voice pursues me as an angry growl. "Oh no you don't."
Okay, I'm scared now. Not that I think he's going to hurt me or anything, but he sounds riled and determined, and though that might be exciting as a description of one of those Regency romance gentlemen, I'm not in the mood for a confrontation. I've said my bit. I wish he'd leave me alone. I remember not to wish too hard, just in case.
I can't hear him but I know he's gaining on me and I refuse to run. I turn the corner to go down a corridor, which I realize, belatedly, is the wrong direction to get to the laundry room, and come to a complete halt.
At least I have the sense to hold my hand up and he stops beside me, silent, watching. My jaw has come unhinged and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.
A white rabbit, which must be about five feet tall, is opening the door to Mr. Summers' office. He's wearing a navy jacket and a tartan vest that looks like it's done in the blue colours of the Stewart clan. I did a paper last year on Scotland and learned way too much about clothing. The rabbit has a gold pocket watch, which he's consulting with apparent consternation.
Logan and I exchange silent glances of utter astonishment.
Russell would probably say we're 'gobsmacked'…
I manage to clamp my mouth shut, jarring my teeth, and raise my eyebrows, silently asking: What do we do?
He shrugs slightly: He doesn't know. I place the flat of my hand on his chest to get his attention and then move my fingers quickly to my eyes, then point at the rabbit: We wait and see. He follows my meaning and nods.
"Oh, my ears and whiskers," the rabbit mumbles to himself as he steps over the threshold. His voice can be best described as 'nasal British BBC'. "I'm going to be so late, the Queen will have my head!"
I bend down and place my water glass on the floor under one of the decorative tables, so no one will accidentally trip over it. I have no idea who I think is going to come along, but it's an unusually busy night at Xavier's. If I'm here and Logan's here and Harvey's here, we only need one more and we'll be set for a hand of Whist.
Logan touches my arm and steps forward. I stay close by him as we approach the still open office door. He indicates I should go to one side while he goes to the other so we do, just like we were spies or something. We hunch against the wall and carefully peer inside. I can see the chair I sat in yesterday afternoon. Logan can probably see the desk - and the mirror behind it. I strain but I can't see the rabbit.
Logan slips inside and, not wanting to be left in the hallway with whatever else might be creeping around, I go after him.
Harvey is still muttering to his watch, but I can't make out sentences, just a few words. Words like 'tea' and 'scones' and 'court' and 'ratings' and 'installation'…
I frown. Ratings and installation?
Logan is getting closer to the rabbit and is about to grab him from behind when the creature darts around the desk, unaware of our presence, and hops - hops! - into the slightly warped surface of the antique mirror.
And disappears behind the looking glass.
Logan turns to look at me, just to confirm that I saw it happen, too.
I nod, quickly scanning the frame for the little faces I so love. I swear they're laughing at us. Impulsively, I run to the mirror and reach out to touch the glass.
"Kitty, no!"
Logan has excellent reflexes. He catches my hand before I can reach the surface and this time I don't phase. I realize he was holding his breath when he lets it out in a gust of relief when I don't disobey him. He was really worried.
"You can let go of my arm now," I say. He does. "I want to try something. "I reach behind me and grab a pencil from the ceramic holder on Mr. Summers' desk. I wince when I realize the holder is a mug I made for him in art class three years ago. It's really bad. No time to dwell on it now.
I face the mirror again. Logan watches me carefully, like I'm gonna do something stupid and he's braced to stop me. I move the eraser tip to the glass and gently, ever so gently, press against it.
A small pair of yellow, clawed hands erupts from the mirror, snatches the pencil from me and withdraws into another world. I do what anyone would do in this sort of situation: I scream my head off and hastily crawl backwards onto the top of the desk. Logan has moved protectively in front of me and I hear the distinctive sound of his claws popping through his skin.
Snikt.
Someone is screaming and won't shut up, and I realize with some distant chagrin that it's me. I don't have a stopwatch, but I'm pretty sure that the footsteps sound within ten seconds as several people leap from their beds and tear down the stairs. I wonder how many are skipping the stairs all together.
Bamf!
That answers that question, I guess.
"What has happened?" Mr. Wagner - Kurt - appears in pajamas with a very fine navy pinstripe in them. His holographic device isn't activated. It registers with me that his tail is very agitated. I stop screaming and point to the mirror, dismayed to see my hand is shaking.
"It took my pencil!" Brilliant, Pryde. Try being more specific. "Things, in the mirror, a rabbit -"
His eyebrows rise towards his hairline. "There is a rabbit in the mirror?"
"Somethin' like that." Logan glances at Kurt as the teleporter walks to stand beside him. "We'd better get Chuck."
The office door is suddenly flooded with people who all seem to arrive at once. Mr. Summers and Sam try to enter at the same time and Sam backs up so the senior X-Man can get through. Right behind Sam is Ms. Munroe, whose bedroom might be the farthest away, followed by Peter. All are in various states of undress, except for Rogue and Bobby, who enter hesitantly, fully clothed in their barbeque attire.
"Kitty!" Mr. Summers comes straight for me and places an arm around my shoulders. I'm shaking all over, damn it. "Are you alright?" Before I can answer, he looks at Logan. "What happened?"
"Looks like we got company," Logan says cryptically and gestures to the mirror with one clawed hand. "We saw a rabbit jump into the mirror, then Kitty had a pencil taken from her by some pixie hands."
A thorough explanation? No, but it'll do for now.
Sam, Peter, Rogue and Bobby form a chorus.
"What?"
Ms. Munroe takes a ruler from the edge of the desk and approaches the mirror.
"Careful," I manage, though I know she will be. Mr. Summers tightens his hold on me. Inch by inch, the ruler gets closer to the glass and stops when it taps quietly against the surface.
Nothing happens. A collective breath is released.
"Is everyone alright?" Professor Xavier wheels across the threshold, his pajamas covered by a burgundy bathrobe. I wonder how he managed to get here so fast, looking so neat and unflustered.
"Yeah," I say, straightening a bit and sliding my feet over the edge of the desk so my legs dangle. Mr. Summers gives me a quick, reassuring squeeze and lets go of me. I realize I lost one of my sandals during my hasty retreat. I'll get it when I feel comfortable standing again. "I'm okay. Just a little freaked."
"A rabbit has been here," Kurt says.
Sam raises an eyebrow. "Harvey?"
"Probably the same one I saw in the woods earlier, but who can say?" I sigh. "I hope there's only one. Logan and I followed it into the office, and yes, before anyone asks, it had a pocket watch." I nod at the mirror. "It jumped into there. I stuck a pencil against the glass and a pair of creepy looking little hands took it away from me. Then I screamed. The rest you know."
Ms. Munroe turns slightly, the sleeves of her flowing robe wafting at the movement. "But the path has been sealed." She taps the mirror. "This ruler won't go through."
The faces in the frame start to laugh. Am I the only one who can hear them?
"Get away from the mirror!" I slide down the desk and struggle to get passed Logan and Kurt, to reach Ms. Munroe.