"So Petey, yi got 'ny idea why Xavier's callin us down?" Remy kept in stride with his friend as they both made their way down the metal hallway that was the basement of the Xavier Institute.
"I do not, Remy. I vould imagine zhat is vhy ve have been summoned down here."
"T'anks fo statin' de obvious, mon ami," Remy muttered as the two made their way down the wide corridor. For several minutes, the only audible sounds were heavy footsteps hitting steel in a constant pattern. "Hey, Petey, yi t'ink we made de right decision comin' here?" Remy asked his question in a clipped, hurried voice, so different from his usual tone that it took Piotr several seconds to discern what exactly he had been asked.
"I believe zhat question comes too late." Piotr left the sentence dangling at the last moments, as though there was more he wanted to say but the words simply died in his mouth.
"Dat it?"
"Vhat more is zhere to say, Remy? Vhere else is zhere for us to go?" Remy answer consisted of him blowing air through gritted teeth, a noise similar to a malfunctioning radiator. They continued in silence for several feet, both wrapped up in their own thoughts, until Piotr spoke again, his voice echoing down the windowless corridor despite his attempts to whisper.
"Remy, are you aware of vhere it is ve are expected?"
"Sumthin called de War Room."
"Yes, but can you tell vhere zhat is?" Silence.
"M' hopin it's in dis house somewhere," More silence. "Dat was a joke, Petey. Jus' keep walkin, we bound to stumble 'pon it sooner o later."
The first thing that struck both Remy and Piotr upon entering the War Room was the clear and distinct lack of students. They both could easily remember the numerous pairs of eyes that had focused on them upon their arrival. Now, there were only twenty-two pairs of eyes staring them down, many of which belonged to the teachers rather than students. The only new person they recognized was Wanda Maximoff, whose body language and constant, loud sighs were both clues that she was displeased to have been dragged down here. Most of the people present looked just as confused as Remy and Piotr, with the notable exception of Kurt Wagner, who was rubbing his hands together in a constant, nervous motion.
"Glad you two were able to wander in here finally. Hope we didn't interrupt anything important." Logan growled, leaning against a wall near the entrance, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, certainly a formidable sight for anyone. This sight, however, didn't stop Remy from doing everything in his power to push Logan's butons.
"Non, but next tahme mebey yi could make us all some drinks." Remy let his accented words ooze out extra slow as a smug grin stretched quietly from ear to ear. Piotr quickly and quietly settled his massive frame into the seat nearest the door, while Remy shrugged himself in the seat immediately to Piotr's right, a seat that so happened to be next to Rogue.
"Whatever the reason for your late arrival, it is of no importance," Professor Xavier interjected, knowing Logan's famously short fuse. "We have a mission today, one I am afraid I cannot give you much information about. Thanks to the discovery of a certain photograph in the Brotherhood house, I was made aware of the existence of Kurt's twin sister," the Professor motioned towards Kurt, whose face was the picture of anxious anticipation. His eyes were open wide, and his three-fingered hands grasped the edge of the table in a vice grip. "After several hours inside Cerebro, I located who I believe to be this long-lost sibling in Northern California. Now, Logan, Hank and I will be transporting a team out into the general vicinity to look for her. Ororo, Wanda, I would like you two to remain here and keep an eye on the students."
"Of course, Charles." Ororo answered in her usual regal tone, while Wanda grunted out an unintelligible noise and, crossing her arms on the surface of the table, laid her head down over her pale forearms.
"Not to, like, be rude or anything, Professor, but how much trouble do you expect one mutant to be? It sounds like you think we're going to be gone for a while." Kitty questioned. She was sitting next to her roommate and friend, Rogue, who was seemingly in a silent contest with Wanda over who could look more bored.
"Normally, no, however, Mystique's involvement with this girl demands that we stay prepared. Mystique may not be the most terrifying enemy head-on, but I can assure you she is well versed in the art of deception. I wish to take no chances on this mission." His words were not meant as a threat in any way, and yet still every soul in that cavernous room felt a hidden fire behind those words, so much so that the only response were nervous glances traded about the room.
"Professor, do you have any idea what this girl's powers are?" Scott chose his words very carefully, his question coming out slow and practiced, akin to an actor reading their lines for the first time.
"Not at this time, Scott. I consider myself lucky that I even noticed her signature in the first place. That I even know the flash came from California is by simple luck. I truly wish I could give you more information; however I am sorry to admit I do not have a wealth of any real details. Whoever your sister is, Kurt, Mystique has done a fine job of hiding her."
"Ve'll find her zhough, right? I mean, mother can't hide her forever?" The desperation in Kurt's voice was hard to ignore, and close to impossible not to feel sympathy for.
"I can promise you we will do everything in our power to ensure the right outcome. The choice is ultimately hers, of course, however I want to do everything possible to see this Talia girl under our roof at the end of this. You are dismissed; please meet in the hanger in exactly one half-hour." The students were quick to file out, with Ororo and Logan following in quick succession. Ororo went in the direction of her attic greenhouse, while Logan had already produced a cigar from the breast pocket of his shirt. The only people left were Professor Xavier and Hank McCoy, the latter of which wasted no time opening his mouth once the room was void of other ears.
"Charles, I'm beginning to wonder if even you believe your stories anymore."
"I am not in the mood, Henry." Charles answered tersely, refusing to look his slightly simian friend in the eyes.
"And I am not concerned in the slightest what sort of mood you're in. You're not telling them even half of what you know."
"They know everything they need to. I'll not have them knowing every sordid detail of my past," Hank plodded toward the exit as Charles was still in mid-sentence, but Charles' final words made him stop in his tracks. "Besides, Henry, I don't see you rushing to inform our students of my past indiscretions." Henry paused, turning face his friend in the eyes despite the considerable distance between the exit and Professor Xavier's perch at the head of the circular table.
"I'm giving you one last chance to do the right thing, Charles. If you have any respect for me or what this school once stood for, you will not waste that chance."
"There's something he is not telling us, Scott. He is hiding something." Jean's voice was airy, light, but lacked all emotion. The two were standing in Scott's bedroom, dressing
"Who?" Scott looked up from the zipper of his uniform.
"Professor Xavier. I detect something in his voice and his thoughts that he doesn't want anyone to know." Scott's jaw would have hit the floor if not for it being attached to his skull. He tried in vain to find the proper words.
"Jean, you-you read the Professor's thoughts? What in the world would you do that for?"
"I didn't do it on purpose; I'm just having a harder time shutting out thoughts than
I used to." Her voice returned to the rich, full voice that Scott was used to hearing. He walked up to her, placing his hands on either side of her hips.
"Jean, I really wish you'd stay here at the mansion. If there's something going wrong-"
"There's nothing wrong, Scott," Jean spat, disgusted at his choice of words. "I feel better than I've ever felt before. Look, I'm glad you're concerned for my well being, but this all getting a little annoying." She mentally pushed his hands off of her body, then his full body weight, sending Scott tumbling to the floor. Scott was, to say the least, shocked by this display of power. Jean frowned, then left without so much as a mumbled goodbye. Scott pushed himself into a sitting position, to confused at the moment to do anything more than stare at the open doorway.
What the hell just happened?
"Aren't you excited, Rogue? Just zhink, a tvin sister!" Kurt was barely able to contain his excitement as he walked down the hall, joined by his adopted sister Rogue and mutual friend Kitty. Unlike Scott and Jean, who had made it up to the residence levels as quickly as possible, these three were lazily walking about the basement. They had been practicing in the Danger Room when Professor Xavier's psychic call had gone out, and thus had no need to hunt for their uniforms. Rogue had been there first, working out by herself, running the same program on a constant repeat. Rogue had been fighting Mystique.
"Huh? Kurt, don't ya think yah're getting' a little ovaexcahted about ahll of this?" Rogue questioned, her shoulders slumped and her mind very clearly in other places. Rogue's attitudes towards her mother had been strained at best, but Rogue had always been able to say, without hesitation, that Mystique had been a cold, uncaring woman, and always would be. However, these photos showed a side previously unknown to Rogue, or at the very least long-forgotten, tucked away in some distant, dusty corner of white matter. While most people would want peace and solitude, Rogue wanted noise. She wanted action, she wanted excitement, she wanted any distraction possible from having to think about those photos, and she went to the one place where distractions were a guarantee.
"Vhat do you mean? How can you not get excited about a sister our own mother hid from us?"
"She ain't mah mother!" Rogue snapped quickly, her face less than an inch from Kurt's. He backed away several feet, too scared to respond except to turn his face halfway from Rogue's wrathful glare and clutch his tail in both hands, rubbing the fur in a nervous motion. Kitty also moved a slight distance from Rogue, however, unlike Kurt, she was not afraid to speak on the issue of Rogue and Kurt's mother, something that sharply divided Rogue and Kurt's otherwise stable familial relationship.
"Rogue, like, you can still be excited about the idea of having a sister." Rogue turned from Kurt, the look of fury no longer in her eyes.
"Thaht's just the thing. How do weh know thaht Mystique hasn't already found this gal? She could beh brainwashin her as weh speak! Hell, sheh got tah meh before ya'll did," Rogue answered with no discernable effort to hide the bitterness in her voice. "Look, Ah hope Ah'm wrong. Ah hope weh get out there and this gal ain't got the slightest ahdea who Mystique is. Ah she neva has tah know. Ahll Ah'm doin' is bein realistic." With a huff, Rogue stormed away, hoping neither Kitty nor Kurt had noticed the beginnings of tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes, or the way her voice had cracked somewhere in the middle of her short monologue.
"Vhy is she alvays so pessimistic?" Kurt asked once Rogue was well out of earshot.
"Remember, Kurt, she's realistic, not pessimistic." Kitty deadpanned.
Talia held her elbows in her hands as she leaned over the glass counter of Bob's Music Emporium. She had no clue why it was named after a Bob. No one who worked there, at least in the managerial field, was named Bob. None of the mangers had any children or fathers or any relatives named Bob, or Robert, or Robbie, or any name that could conceivably be shortened to Bob. Talia had long determined that Bob had never existed, and that he was a figment of someone's imagination. At one point, after she had been working for roughly five months, Talia had questioned everyone she could about the origin of the name Bob. She had come up with no answers, although there were quite a few interesting theories. Her favorite was the one that involved aliens. It was a nagging question that came back to haunt her thoughts whenever business was slow, which it was on that particular day. Since her shift had started at three o'clock, there had been a grand sum of four customers, two of whom actually made a purchase. Her supervisor for the day, Terry, had given her busywork, but by six, even that well had run dry. Talia glanced over her shoulder into the office, where Terry was busy with a PSP, audibly losing to some unnamed game. Talia, who owned no such portable gaming device, had busied herself counting ceiling tiles, at least until the bell that hung over the entrance chimed, snapping Talia's eyes toward that direction.
"Jeanette? What are you doing here?" Jeanette grinned a wide, lazy grin with heavy-lidded eyes.
"What? I can't visit my favorite counter jockey?" Jeanette giggled at nothing in particular as she slumped backwards onto the counter, propping herself up using her elbows. Tj rolled her eyes before responding.
"Ugh, it's been so slow today. We've had, like, four people in here," As a sort of impromptu exclamation mark to that statement, a loud curse emanated from the manger's office. Jeanette quirked an eyebrow. "Terry's into some videogame."
"Cool dude, that means you can take a lunch break."
"It's six-thirty."
"Ok, dinner break. Tj, come on, I'm hungry, you're hungry, food is calling us." Jeanette ended this with a dramatic wave of a hand, pushing herself off of the glass countertop and performing an odd, short dance.
"Alright, let me just tell Terry I'm going out." The manager's office did not have a door to speak of, and, as far as Tj knew, it never had. The empty hinges were still screwed into the wall, covered with layer after layer of paint by past employees too uninterested to remove the metal hinges. Tj leaned into the room, one hand on each side of the doorjamb.
"Hey, Terry, you mind if I take a dinner break?"
"Yea, be back in a half-hour." Terry commanded, a toothpick lazily hanging out of the left corner of his mouth. Talia quickly spun on her heels, walking around the counter to join Jeanette as they both exited the store.
Bob's Music Emporium was located down a side street, a side street not well known to every tourist who entered the city. As such, the shops catered much more towards dedicated locals rather than every random person who wandered in for two weeks vacation.
"So how's work been?"
"Slow. You were about the fourth person in the store today," Tj said, relieved to finally have someone with which to hold a conversation. "Anything interesting happen while I've been at work?"
"Eh, not a whole lot. I picked up an eighth from my guy about an hour ago. That's about it. You going to stop by after work?"
"Of course. If I go home, all I'm going to hear about is how I'm wasting my life not going to college." Jeanette dug through the front pockets of her oversized hoodie, finally producing a crumpled soft pack of Camel lights.
"Dude, you should just move out. You could probably make enough for rent where you're working, you know, if you switched over to full time." Jeanette lit the cigarette with a cheap gas station lighter.
"I've been considering it, believe me," Tj muttered. It was at this time at which they passed an open-air bar, an open air bar where a group of four young men, none older than 23 and the youngest at twenty-one, happened to be taking in a few beers. As Tj and Jeanette walked by, one of the men, the apparent dominant man, nudged the closest of his friends with his elbow and pointed two fingers toward the pair of girls crossing the males' field of vision. Throwing a handful of bills on the table, the men hopped the plastic chains separating the restaurant area from the general sidewalk, following Tj and Jeanette and making catcalls. "Oh joy. The moron brigade is out early tonight."
"Dude, just ignore them. We were talking about you moving out of the 'rents house."
"Yea. The thing is, I love my mom and dad, no doubt. I'm just getting tired of all this pressure to get to college right away." It was at this moment that the dominant male of the group ended the catcalls.
"Goddamn, I was told this damn town was mutie free!" The man shouted loudly. Tj's shoulders rose, and the anger became visible in her eyes, but Jeanette put a hand on Tj's shoulder.
"Dude, just ignore those idiots."
"Easy for you to say, they're not throwing the slurs at you," Tj hissed as the man readied another insult, apparently irritated with the girls' lack of response.
"What is this, a dyke convention? We got a dyke, and a dyke mutie! Would ya look at that! You girls gonna give us a show?" The men began hooting and hollering among themselves, clearly amused with themselves. Jeanette motioned for Tj to move, a silent request Tj was more than willing to acquiesce to. Before the girls could move, one of the men began approaching the two.
"Hey goddamnnit! We asked you a fucking question, and now we want a fucking answer!" This one was drunk, and there was no other way to put it. He wasn't to the point of vomiting, but his speech was slurred and his steps were sloppy and clumsy, the effects of intoxication clear. Still, he approached the girls fast, and that was when Tj's anger erupted into action. Outstretching her arm with the palm of her hand facing towards the approaching man, Talia let loose with one of her mutant powers. A bright light formed in the empty air, within the invisible triangle formed by her two fingers and thumb.
For an instant, nothing happened. Birds chirped in the background, small finches that lived off of food scraps. There was a gentle spring breeze.
Then, a loud cacophony filled the air, milliseconds short but deafening. The earsplitting noise was accompanied by a bright flash and a sudden change in the position of the man who had been approaching Tj and Jeanette. Instead of being a foot and a half from them, he was now laying in the gutter over five feet away, clutching his chest and gasping in pain. He would later describe the pain as, "like being kicked in the chest by a bus."
"Holy crap, Tj!" Jeanette screamed.
"What was I supposed to do, wait until he threw the first punch?" Tj yelled. Their conversation was cut short, however, as Tj's luck went from bad to worse. As it was, the clothing shop closest to them had recently fallen victim to a group of young shoplifters. The robbery had been overly simple; the thieves had run in, grabbed what they could carry and ran as fast as they could. The owners, an aging hippie couple, were attempting to describe the culprits at the exact moment that Talia had given the quartet of drunken males a quick demonstration of her powers.
"Stop right there, mutant!" Both cops had drawn their weapons, the muzzles of their nine-millimeters set firmly on Talia. She turned quickly, her yellow eyes wide with fear. No one dared move, and even the man in the gutter stopped moaning in pain and focused on the police. The younger of the two, a blond man not a day over twenty-two, roughly grasped Tj's wrists, holding them in place behind her back with a pair of plastic riot cuffs. Tj put up no resistance, less because of a respect for law enforcement and more because of a numb shock from the events of the past thirty seconds.
"You're under arrest for assaulting a civilian. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do or say can be held against you in a court of law-"
"What the fuck are you doing?! She was just defending herself!" Jeanette screamed as the young cop continued mirandizing Talia.
"Ma'am, I would suggest you move along now, unless you want to be taken in as an accessory." The elder cop stood with much more confidence than his partner, which was no surprise given the age gap between the two.
"Fuck you, I'm not going anywhere, pig," Jeanette spat. "You're arresting her when you should be arresting those assholes that were following us!" Her words were tough, but her voice was clearly teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown.
"You've got two choices; either leave now or you're under arrest. I'm going to give you thirty seconds." The cop's voice was the complete antithesis of Jeanette's, calm and measured replacing stressed and wild.
"Jeanette, just call my parents and tell them what happened!" Her arms were held sharply behind her back, both by the plastic cuffs and the young cop. He made nervous eye contact with his partner, who merely nodded and jerked his thumb toward the parking lot. The young cop nodded, and with a forceful twist, began leading Tj out to the parked cruiser before she could say anything else to her friend. Jeanette gave the cop one last look of all the hatred she could muster before running past him, ditching the cigarette that had begun to burn her fingers. She ran as fast as she could, the pale rubber soles of her canvas Vans smacking the concrete like a jackhammer. She ran until her entire right side was screaming in pain, until she was far from the cops, the hippie store, the drunk men, all of it. She ran until the tears she was choking back would hold no more, and her cheeks streamed and burned with thick, wet tears. Taking deep, greedy breaths of air, she lay against the nearest wall, shrinking down to the ground and brining her knees to her chin. She waited until her breathing had evened out and until the tears were nothing more than damp streaks of eyeliner before slowly bringing herself to her feet, bracing herself on the worn brick wall behind her. She fished around in the pockets of her khakis, produced a small silver phone and hit a speed-dial number.
"Hello, Royce residence?"
"Hey, Mrs. Royce, this is Jeanette…"
"These are your communicators. They'll keep you in contact with the team at all times, regardless of distance. Also, they allow us to find you anywhere on the planet. Trust me, they're useful," Scott held out two thin black electronic devices towards Remy and Piotr, who both took them with little hesitation. "Do either of you have any questions?" Both shook their heads no, and Scott was thankful for that. His thoughts were preoccupied with Jean's outburst. He had not seen her since she had stormed out of his bedroom, although that wasn't for a lack of searching. Scott had checked every logical place Jean might have gone, and when that had failed to yield any results, hew had checked the unlikely places. He had asked every person he came across if they had seen Jean, and each one of them had given the same answer, a negative one. Scott turned towards the jet…
…and there was Jean. Scott should've been happy, or at least relieved she hadn't run off. Instead, the emotion he most strongly felt was fear. Not the type of fear one felt in a haunted house or a scary movie, the type of fear that came on strong and left fast. The type of fear he felt at that moment was the kind that began in the pit of your stomach and crept out slowly. This was the kind of fear that teased you from the back of your thoughts, telling you that nothing was right and that it never would be again. He almost didn't recognize the woman standing on the ramp leading towards into the plane. She didn't stand on the ground; she floated an inch above it. Her hair blew wildly about her head, but that was hardly noticed by Scott. The fire was back in her eyes. She was still a great distance from him, but he knew the flash he saw was the same fire that had been in her eyes back at the parking lot in Pennsylvania. Try though he might, Scott would never forget those eyes. He took a step, but he was stopped by a telepathic message.
Scott, I need to talk to you, but I do not wish to do it here. I will meet you in the hallway.
Scott dutifully complied, hoping the discussion would at least partially entail what was happening with Jean's powers. Scott winced to himself as his brain dredged up the memory of when Jean temporarily lost control of her powers. He crossed his fingers, hoping this would not be a repeat of that incident.
"Scott?" Jean startled him out of his thoughts.
"Jean, I-"
"Soctt, about earlier, I want to discuss this with you. I want to assure you that I am under no harm," Jean said to Scott in a hypnotic monotone, an airy breathy voice that could have been described as disembodied had Jean not been right there. It was so unlike her that all Scott could do was nod. "Good. I need you to close your eyes and relax." Scott closed his eyes, and tried to push away a thought he had never had before. For the first time since he had met her, Scott was questioning whether or not he could trust Jean. He ignored the thought, pushing it and everything else from conscious thought. Her hand gently grasped his, and he intertwined his fingers with hers. To any passers-by, it merely looked like the two were sharing a moment, but inside Scott's head, it felt like someone else was climbing inside his mind. It wasn't painful, at least not painful in the physical sense. It was instead like his skin was all at once too small for the soul inside. Beads of sweat blossomed on his forehead. He tried to ask Jean what she was doing, but his mouth wouldn't work. It was full with cotton, and his tongue was a piece of dead weight against the left side of his teeth. He could barely breathe, every nerve ending in his body began shouting at once in pain, and there was a burning behind his eyes like he had never felt before. His brain was ablaze, and pain was the only thing he could focus on…
"Scott." With that one simple call of his name, everything washed away. Scott slowly opened his eyes, not knowing what to see but feeling complete relief when he saw he was still in same hallway he had been when he had shut his eyes. Wait, why would I have left? "I am sorry, Scott. I did not think that would hurt you."
"What…What did you do?"
"I joined our psychic forces. Now, we will each know what the other one is feeling. Any emotion, happiness, sadness, anger, anything. Now you will know if I am ever in danger. Think of it as a marriage of our thoughts." That last part brought a smile to Scott's face.
"Jean, that's amazing. How did you learn that?"
"It is the least of what I can do. Watch this." Jean grabbed the sides of Scott's glasses and pulled them off before he was able to stop her. He instinctively shut his eyes as fast and as hard as he could.
"Jean, what are you doing? I could hurt someone! I could hurt you!"
"Scott," Jean began, grasping him by the shoulders. "Open your eyes. Feel my thoughts. You will not hurt me." Jean held him still in front of her. Gingerly, Scott eased open one eyelid. He could feel Jean's presence inside him, reassuring him. He let his eyes open, and all at once he was in silent awe. He could see, not through a layer of ruby quartz, but instead he was really seeing everything. Staring at him, though, was Jean.
"I am holding the beams back using telekinesis." Jean did not have to explain further, as Scott enveloped her mouth in a deep kiss. All the power being held back in his eyes was letting itself out through that one passionate act. Jean did not allow herself to hold back, either, matching the emotion Scott was feeding into the kiss. The pair separated, breathless, and Jean replaced the glasses over Scott's eyes.
"You can really do that? You can really hold my powers back with yours?" Jean kissed him on the cheek.
"For you, I can do anything."
"Jean, I'm sorry about earlier. I just get worried sometimes. There's something I want to do when we get back, though. How about dinner someplace nice?" Scott asked, thinking about the engagement ring hidden in his bedside table.
"It sounds fantastic. We need to get going, however. Logan has finished preparing the jet for takeoff." With their hands still entwined, Jean led Scott out of the hallway and into the hanger. Scott was content for the time, ignoring the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
The fake rock lifted, and the Blackbird roared out of the face of the cliff and into the sky. Outside the gates of the mansion, a pair of eyes that had long before been robbed of sight stared out from the back seat of a car, seeing the plane in the mind behind the eyes.
"Raven, they just left the mansion in jet." The woman said into the mouthpiece of the cellular phone.
"Thank you, Irene. Were you able to intercept their ETA?"
"Of course, the bug works like a dream."
"For the price I paid, it damn well better work. Mind telling me how long they're planning to take?"
"Two hours."
"Fantastic, Irene. I can't tell you how pleased I am at how this has worked out. It was only a matter of time before Xavier's curiosity overcame his desire for secrecy."
"Raven, I'm leaving Bayville tonight. Something bad is about to happen, and I don't want to be here when it does."
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going back to Mississippi for a while. Call me when everything's over."
"Of course, Irene."
"And Raven? Please be careful; I have terrible visions about this. I see you in great danger."
"Irene, I plan to be long gone before the X-men even touch down on California soil. You have nothing to worry about." Irene sighed.
"I hope you're right, Raven. Call me soon."
"I'll be sure to, Irene," The phone blinked Call Ended, and a blue hand snapped the clamshell phone shut. Then, to herself; "Hold on honey. Your mother will be there soon."
Author's Note: I don't own these characters, the show, or this website, so I'm making no money off of this. I do, however, own a copy of X-Men #200 and Queens of the Stone Age's new album. They're both sweet. Other than that, I'm going to try to get Chapter six up soon, but as always, I make no promises. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, please review and let me know.