The Jean Grey School, Westchester, New York
The Past, Six Weeks Ago
Logan's worn cowboy boots crunched down the gravel path leading to the front gate. His breath fogged the chill morning air. It was early spring and the morning had dawned on a world of soft color, the surrounding landscape muted under a layer of frost. In spite of the cold, he was bare-armed, the sleeves of his thermal shirt rolled up to his elbows. The fresh air was bracing, the morning a still respite from the usual chaos of the school behind him. Logan was walking to the mailbox, his head down, ears alert to the sound of the birds in the trees. A robin jogged across the lawn, emitting two chirps of warning as Logan approached.
He passed through the gates to the end of the drive. The mailbox door gave a soft screech of protest as he pulled it open. Logan reached into the interior and pulled out a thick sheaf of envelopes, catalogs, and magazines. He held the bundle against his chest and idly flicked through the contents. It was then he sensed someone nearby, though it was not a particular scent or sound but a strange sensation in the air. Logan's eyes glanced upward to see the school's sign; a concrete block framed in red brick, the school's name carved into the smooth slab. There was a man sitting on top of it. Logan started and took a pace backward. The man on top of the sign was not looking at him, but peering upside-down at the sign. He was holding a gray piece of paper in his hand and comparing the writing on it to the words on the sign.
"Gambit, what the hell?" Logan called and the man glanced up revealing red and black eyes.
Gambit smiled and said: "Bon matin."
Logan shoved the packet of mail under his arm. "Isn't it early for you, not to mention cold?"
Gambit exhaled a plume of condensation that fogged the air. "Cold, yes."
Logan continued: "Kitty is pissed that you skipped out of that test, Bobby is complaining about having to take over all the study halls, there's girls crying in the bathroom every other day, and the whole school smells like canned fish on account of Joanna refusing to cook anything other than tuna noodle casserole for the last two weeks. So where have you been?"
Gambit hopped down off the sign. "London," he answered.
"London?" Logan repeated irritably.
The thief nodded. "Underground," he added.
Logan shook his head, having no patience for Gambit's vague answers. Now that the young man was standing before him, Logan saw that Gambit was dressed more peculiarly than usual, which was saying something. Logan wasn't usually one to notice these kinds of things, but the change was appearance-altering. "Did you cut your hair?" he asked incredulously.
"Non. Someone else did," Gambit replied. He extended his hand, the gray scrap of paper held in his fingertips. "I have a message. I drew you a picture to London on th'back," Gambit informed him and stared at Logan with an absentminded grin on his face.
Logan paced forward and snatched the paper from Gambit's grip, then shoved it into the pile of mail under his arm.
"What in the hell is wrong with you?" Logan demanded.
Gambit glanced down at Logan's feet, then crouched abruptly. Logan took a step back when Gambit straightened again, a bright purple flower held between his forefinger and thumb. "You crushed it," Gambit told Logan as he twirled the flower on its broken stem.
"Did you fall on your head?" Logan asked. In this proximity, he noticed that the thief even smelled different. He smelled like mud and wet stone. There was no scent of cigarettes on him, which probably explained the sudden change.
Gambit put the flower to his nose. "It doesn't smell," he observed.
"You need to go see a doctor," Logan informed him. "You have a concussion or something."
Gambit pocketed the flower. "I have to go back to ma chère," he said. "I'll be missed." He then turned and ambled off down Greymalkin Lane towards the main road into town.
"Well, that just figures," Logan grumbled and began to walk back to the school.
Logan passed though the west entrance and made his way towards the school offices. He found Kitty and Bobby in the main office. Kitty was seated behind a desk. Bobby, reclining in his chair before the desk with his feet propped up, was eating a bowl of cereal.
"Mail," Logan said when the pair looked up at him. He walked over to Bobby and began flicking envelopes at him. "Bill, bill, bill..." he said, tossing one letter after the other into Bobby's lap. Bobby sat up abruptly, trying to balance his bowl in one hand and collect the mail in the other before it dropped to the ground.
"Logan, the inboxes are over there," Kitty said and pointed to the wooden cubbies set in the wall, each with a name below it printed neatly on a label.
Logan walked to the cubbies and crammed the wad of mail into Kitty's mailbox. "There. Happy?"
Kitty sighed and stood, proceeded to the mailbox and began sorting the envelopes into their respective places. "Hey, what's this?" she asked and held out a thick yellow envelope. Kitty phased her hand through the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents. Her eyes grew wide. "Hey!" she announced, a grin spreading over her face.
"What is it?" Bobby asked, setting his bowl onto the desk.
Kitty turned the documents around and held them to her chest. "It's a student application! Like, a real application. For the school, our school! Filled out and everything!"
Bobby stood and took the top document to study it. "This must be some kind of hoax."
"No, look!" Kitty said and brandished a check. "With a tuition check! And school transcripts... and a letter of recommendation! This is legit!" She danced from one foot to the other and pointed at Logan. "And you said the website was a waste of time!"
Logan snatched the check from her hand. "Hunh," he said, turning the check over to study it front and back.
Bobby read the application. "Jean La Gricks," he said aloud and handed the document to Logan.
Logan glanced over the paper. "It's pronounced John, not Jean," he said. "Jean-Jacques LeGrix."
"French?" Kitty asked, looking over the rest of the paperwork.
"Hails from New Orleans," Logan replied.
"Oh, hey, so we could have Gambit mentor the kid. Maybe it will make him feel at home," Kitty said.
"Yeah, if Gambit ever turns up," Bobby added.
"I just saw him at the end of the drive," Logan told the pair.
"Where in the heck has he been?" Bobby asked. "I'm sick of study hall."
"And teenage boys say the grossest things ever," Kitty said. "I need Gambit to handle all this perversion."
"Forget it. Gambit wandered off. He's lost his mind over some woman," Logan said.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Bobby said dryly as he began sorting the remainder of the mail.
"I'm serious," Logan continued. "You shoulda seen him. Hair cut, face shaved, weird clothes. It's like he's a completely different person."
"Aw! He's twitterpated," Kitty said.
"He's what?" Logan asked.
"That's Kitty's nice way of saying Gambit is whipped," Bobby said and Kitty stabbed him in the side with her forefinger. "Ow!"
"What's her name? What does she look like? When can we meet her?" Kitty asked in rapid fire style.
"I don't know," Logan said. "I didn't ask."
"Logan! These are all very important questions and I need to know!" Kitty exclaimed.
"I've got better things to do than worry about Gambit's love life," Logan said. "Like what about this student? Shouldn't we go pick him up before someone else does? Like, say, Magneto?"
Kitty consulted the paperwork. "Right now, he's abroad with his parents. He's scheduled to arrive April First."
"April Fools Day. See, I told you it was a hoax," Bobby said and shoved an academic journal into Hank's mailbox.
"It's the day after spring break," Kitty said, rolling her eyes at him.
"Who takes a teenage kid abroad for a month?" Logan asked, holding the check up to the light. "Maybe his folks are loaded."
"Overprotective too, is my guess," Kitty said, flipping over pages. "Seems he spent a lot of time in the hospital. You should see the list of the things this kid is allergic to. Sheesh. He probably has to live in a bubble."
"Maybe it has something to do with his mutant power?" Bobby asked. "There's a field for that, right? On the application?"
"Chronokinesis," Kitty read. "And chronopathy."
"Which is what, exactly?" Bobby asked, turning a gray envelope over to study it.
Kitty shrugged. "I guess we'll be finding out, won't we?"
"Sounds like trouble," Logan grumbled.
"But if a new mutant surfaced, why didn't we know about it?" Kitty asked.
"Hoax," Bobby said absently. "Hey, there's a letter for Sc – uh, Cyclops. What do we do with it?"
"Shitcan it," Logan snapped.
"You can't do that. That's tampering with mail," Kitty said and took the envelope from Bobby. "This is weird. There's no stamp. And it's sewn shut."
Logan glanced at the envelope. Kitty was looking at the strange scribble scrawled across the back of the envelope. Logan saw the handwriting on the front and recognized it. He pulled it from Kitty's hands and stared at it. He snapped the thread holding the envelope closed and opened the note. His eyes scanned the contents, coming to the shaky signature at the bottom.
"Logan, what is it?" Kitty asked.
"It's Jean," he replied, his eyes glued to the letter.
"Don't you mean 'John'?" Bobby asked.
Logan extended the letter to Bobby. He took it, somewhat reluctantly. Looking down to read the note, he said: "It...can't be. This isn't – it's not Jean Jean? Right?"
Kitty peered over his shoulder. "Maybe this could be a hoax?"
"And if it's not?" Bobby asked.
"If it's a hoax, we find who wrote that note," Wolverine said and extended his claws to indicate how he intended to respond to the letter. "And if it's not...It means Sinister somehow survived the Phoenix Force's assault. And Jean, or someone believing she's Jean, is his prisoner."
~ oOo ~
Next time: Who's your daddy?