Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own the X-Men, or Kids WB, or anyone else who actually makes money off of these characters.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed the prologue, and to Jen1703, beta-reader extraordinaire!
From the Ashes
Chapter 1
"You know you can't stick around," Bobby was protesting as he and Illyana rematerialized in a little used hallway within the University Commons. Glancing around as they headed into the main open area, he was relieved to note their untraditional arrival had drawn no attention. In fact, the area seemed largely deserted, with only a study group of five or so students gathered around a table not far away as evidence that they'd arrived on a day when the Commons was open.
"Why not, it's not as if anyone here would notice," Illyana countered, glancing at the gray sky outside the floor to ceiling windows with a look of disgust. "Besides, I can be back before we even left, you know that."
Bobby took a deep breath and shook his head. They'd gone through this before, several times, but Illyana adamantly refused to accept his explanation. Probably because she simply didn't want to. In some ways, she wasn't much different at twenty-one than she'd been at thirteen.
"Because you're my ticket home?" he reminded her pointedly. "Look, you're the only one who knows where – and when – I am, and the only one who has any chance of remembering it if things do change here. But if you hang out here too long, we have no way of knowing if you'll get back where we're from before anything changes. Or…something like that, anyway," he reluctantly admitted. It made total sense in his head, but he had a hard time verbalizing it. Temporal anomalies made his head hurt, and attempting to talk about them was even worse.
"Well, where else would I end up?" she reasoned. "And so what if things change? Things are supposed to change, remember? That's why we're here."
"Why I'm here," Bobby corrected, pausing to shoot a reassuring smile over at a younger boy carrying an armful of books who was looking at them quizzically. "Look, you've gotta go back, end of story," he continued, turning to look at Illyana.
Who, unsurprisingly, was no longer at his side. At least a quick glance around established that she'd simply wandered over to the coffee kiosk, not disappeared in a flash of light in front of witnesses. Sighing, he trudged over to join her, accepting the Styrofoam cup she proffered.
"Fine, I have to go," she conceded reluctantly as they stepped away from the stand, her eyes dropping down to peer at her coffee. "I'll leave myself messages in Limbo, just in case my memory gets altered to the point that I don't remember I left you here, but you know I can't promise that that'll work. This could be a one-way trip." She looked up at him, her eyes uncharacteristically glazed with concern. "Are you sure you want to do this, Bobby? We can still turn around and go back now if you want."
"Are you kidding?" he joked, pushing aside any and all second thoughts that had arisen since they'd arrived and brushing his hand through his hair. "Waste a dye job like this, after all your hard work? Seriously," he added with a shrug, "I'm here, and I'm committed. Do your best to get me back, but if you can't…well, I knew that was possible from the first time we discussed it. I faked myself a birth certificate and stuff just in case, and I've got enough money to keep me going until I can find Jeannie or a job. Chris Knight," he grinned, using his assumed name for the first time, "will be just fine if it comes to that. Don't worry, k?"
"Chris Knight?" Illyana shook her head and giggled, and for a moment he saw a flash of the thirteen-year-old she'd been when she'd arrived at the Institute. She'd driven him nuts with all the giggling, until he'd realized she usually did it to hide what she was really up to. After that, they'd gotten along just fine. He had his own methods, after all.
"Watch Real Genius a few too many times lately?" she asked, crystal blue eyes glistening mischievously.
Bobby shrugged and grinned self-consciously as they resumed walking. Before he could answer, though, a newspaper someone had abandoned on a nearby table caught his attention, and he stepped aside to pick it up, wincing as he caught the date. He had slightly less than two months – not exactly what he'd hoped for, but it could've been worse. Illyana's timing always grew more erratic the further back in time she went; they could easily have miscalculated entirely and showed up too late to do anything other than watch the aftermath. Shaking his head, he pulled his attention back to her question. "Hey, I suck at aliases, at least I'll remember that one. Tabby called me that for a month after I iced the Institute hallways for the mid-winter sports extravaganza."
Illyana stopped laughing and looked at him seriously, and for a moment he thought she was going to try to talk him out of it, or that she'd noticed the date on the paper and wanted to try again. But really, two months should be enough time. And the possibility of showing up to do anything other than watch the funerals didn't bear thinking about.
Much to his surprise, though, Illyana had something else on her mind.
"Tabby. Do you want me to tell her…"
Her voice tapered off on a questioning note, and Bobby shook his head and directed a wry smile at her. "She wouldn't get it anyway, you know Tabs. Besides, she's happy with Sam these days; no reason to get into the middle of things again." It wasn't as if there had ever been anything serious between him and Tabitha, not really. They'd dated off and on again over the years and wreaked more havoc between them than any of the Institute's faculty chose to remember, but the spark had never really been there, and they'd both known it, even when they'd tried their best to ignore it. She and Sam were great together, though, and he quite honestly wished them the best. "If they ask…" he began, suddenly realizing he might never see them again.
"If they ask, I'll tell them that you left all the appropriate messages when I dropped you off to deal with the 'family emergency'," Illyana finished for him with a crooked smile. "It's truthful enough, after all. And, if nothing changes and I can't find you for pickup, I'll wait a few weeks before telling anyone anything more." Her smile broadened, though to his eyes it looked slightly forced. "And then I'll disappear for a few weeks until they calm down."
Bobby nodded as he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her fiercely, then pulled back a bit and pressed a kiss to her forehead . "'Bye, Yana. Keep Logan on his toes for me, okay? And don't let Jamie get away from you – one of these days he'll come to his senses."
Illyana let out a burst of laughter and grinned. "Oh, he knows where he's got it good. It's just a game, and we both know the rules. Sooner or later he'll grow up, and he'll realize we've outgrown it. Maybe," she added with a wink as she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "Or you could always take me up on the standing offer when you get back," she added almost as an afterthought, tossing him a saucy wink.
Despite the increasing lump in his throat, Bobby laughed and shook his head. "I'll keep that in mind," he replied with a grin, "though I still maintain you'd feed me to your demons within three weeks."
"True, but what a great three weeks they'd be," she retorted glibly with the ease of a conversation often repeated, and he chuckled as she gave him one last hug, then stepped back and disappeared in a flash of light.
Luckily, he noticed with relief as he glanced, no one had noticed the last. Leave it to Illyana.
Taking a deep breath, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and trekked off down the mall of the Student Union, pausing to check the map on the wall to see where the Admissions Office was. Hopefully, with the forged transfer documents he'd brought with him, he'd be able to bluff his way into at least one of Jean's classes. It'd be a whole lot easier to run into her there than it would anywhere else.
Besides, getting right to work would keep him from thinking too much about the fact that, if everything worked as he hoped, he might not ever see the blonde teleporter, or any of his other friends, again.
Late. She was running late, as usual.
Jean pushed her way through the doors of the Kelsey Science Building, pausing only to pull the hood of her jacket up over her still damp hair and to shift her backpack back over her shoulder. She'd been late for class, again, thanks not only to the irrepressible Illyana Rasputin but to Logan, who'd called to bring them up to date on the status of his mission in Canada. Even exceeding the speed limit by 20mph hadn't gotten her to the campus, let alone her class, on time.
Which meant, of course, that she'd been forced to listen to Professor Ortega ramble at length after class about the importance of timeliness, and how her powers didn't exempt her from the same standards applied to the other students. As if she'd ever expected them to. Sadly, the Professor had supported Principal Kelly's bid for election, and seemed to blame her, personally, for the fact that Kelly was back at Bayville High, still haranguing students rather than political officials.
And, thanks to his longwinded tirade, she'd missed her study group at the library. So much for timeliness being a priority.
Sighing, Jean trudged out into the pouring rain, barely resisting the urge to erect a telekinetic shield to keep from being soaked further. Given the fact the water was already being driven into the fabric, there wasn't much point anyway, and the taboo against using her abilities in public won out. Besides, there was little to no chance of obtaining anything resembling an A on her Psychology exam the next day without that study group, and she wasn't comfortable breaking in halfway through, even though she knew the others would understand. Not only would their momentum be broken, but they'd want her to relate her conversation with Prof. Ortega. And while the others knew she was a mutant, it wasn't exactly something she tried to remind them of regularly. She might as well just head home and dry off.
Her head bent against the rain that seemed to be falling at a thirty-five degree angle, and still feeling sufficiently guilty about skipping out that she was focused on whether or not she should head over to the library and try to slip in unobtrusively, she didn't see the figure coming toward her until he bumped into her, sending her stumbling sideways to land on one knee on the wet cement.
"Oh god, I'm sorry – here, let me give you a hand," a male voice said, and she pushed back her hood slightly and peered up at him, trying to suppress the surge of irritation that flooded over her as she accepted his outstretched hand and let him pull her to her feet.
"Well, I guess you made my decision for me," she said as she glanced down at her pants, now soaked from knee to ankle and shook her head. There was no way she was going to her study group looking like this. She wasn't even entirely sure they'd let her in the library looking like this. She might be able to remove the water telekinetically, but the dirt was going to need a washing machine. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the young man, who was still trying to stammer out an apology, and forced a smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going, either, so I guess we're both at fault. Don't worry about it, you just saved me the trouble of…," she trailed off as the repentant expression on his face faded, replaced by one of surprise and recognition. "I'm sorry, do I know you from somewhere?"
"What?" he blurted incoherently, then shook his head and smiled at her crookedly. "No, sorry - you just look a little like someone I haven't seen for a long time. I guess it caught me off guard. Look, I'm really sorry about this – let me buy you a coffee or something before you get sick, okay? It's the least I can do."
Jean eyed him curiously for a moment before responding. He looked vaguely familiar as well, though she couldn't think from where. He seemed to be a few years older than she was, and was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a somewhat beat-up jacket that proclaimed him a Mets fan. Not a professor, she didn't think. Maybe a grad student. Who, she noted absently, came complete with what was probably the most disarming smile she'd ever seen. Nonetheless, while a coffee sounded awfully attractive at the moment, if she headed home she could get a jump start on her homework and do some studying. That way, at least the evening wouldn't be a total wash.
"No, that's okay," she replied regretfully with a shake of her head as she wiped her dirty hands off on her pants for lack of better options. Seeing as they'd be going in the wash within five minutes of her arriving at home, it really didn't matter much. "Really, I don't live far from here and my classes are over anyway; I'll just head home and change."
Her accidental-assailant looked at her doubtfully for a moment, then shook his head, his face falling into a pout. "Oh, come on," he pleaded, and she suppressed a laugh at not only the look, but the water trickling off the tip of his nose. Honestly, if his eyes had been brown he would've looked like nothing so much as a half-drowned puppy. "I'll feel all guilty, thinking of you driving home soaking wet. At least let me get you something hot to drink on the way, huh? You're shivering," he observed with a gesture.
Jean nodded reluctantly, utterly unable to dispute that. "Fine, you can get me a coffee," she conceded, if only because standing out here in the pouring rain arguing it seemed pointless. "But then I really need to go."
"Not a problem," he assured her, his pout gone in a flash as he gestured toward the Student Union. "One coffee, coming up. My name's Chris, by the way," he added, almost as an afterthought as they began walking.
"Jean," she offered, smiling sideways at him around the edge of her hood as a thought occurred to her. "Tell me, is this some new pickup strategy I haven't heard of yet?" she asked, and was surprised when he let out a burst of laughter.
"No, this was just a random encounter with a klutz," he admitted, still chuckling. "I'll have to keep it in mind, though," he added with a mischievous grin as he opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him. "Never know when something like that could come in handy."
"Somehow, I think you'd better come up with another method," she joked lightly as she preceded him into the unusually quiet building.
"Awww, come on – you mean getting knocked to the ground in the rain doesn't sweep you off your feet?" he retorted, feigning amazement.
Jean laughed as the door swung closed behind them, taking with it sound of the rain pounding against the ground. "Well, speaking only for myself, I usually prefer not landing in a puddle as part of the process," she joked, and smiled as Chris nodded as if considering it seriously.
"So, that's what I've been doing wrong all these years," he said slowly, then flashed a crooked grin. "Thanks for the tip, I appreciate that."
"Anytime," she replied, her eyes glimmering with a hint of amusement. Somehow, she rather doubted he had anywhere near as much difficulty finding dates as he implied, unless he really was trying to meet people by knocking them into puddles. With only a quick glance down to determine just how much damage her pants had sustained and a wince as she confirmed that it was as bad as it had seemed, she followed him toward the coffee kiosk, where the girl taking orders raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"Any preference?" Chris asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.
Jean nodded, smiling over at the kiosk worker. "One non-fat vanilla latte," she requested, and waited, trying to brush some of the dirt from her pants inconspicuously while her unexpected companion ordered a cappuccino and retrieved both drinks.
"Come on, sit down for a few minutes, maybe it'll ease up out there," Chris suggested, jerking his head over to a table a few yards away.
Jean rolled her eyes and smiled. "I said I needed to get going," she reminded him, but nonetheless led the way over to the table he'd indicated.
"Oh come on, you've got a few minutes," he retorted as he set down the cups and sat down. "I'm new to the campus, you need to take pity on me and give me the big picture overview."
"Oh, I do?" Jean retorted, raising her eyebrows in amusement as she slid into the seat opposite him. "When did that become part of the agreement?"
Chris laughed, and again Jean was struck with an odd sense of déjà vu, as if he reminded her of someone but she couldn't quite place who. Nonetheless, his smile was contagious and she found herself surrendering and countering it with one of her own.
"Well, ok, it's not part of the agreement," he admitted as he stirred a few sugar packets into the coffee and grinned over at her. "But hey, you can't tell me you'd just abandon me without any words of advice, would you? You seem nicer than that."
Jean rolled her eyes, but continued smiling. He really was attractive, she noted absently as she watched him raise his cup to his lips to drink. For some obscure reason, she was more comfortable with Chris than she would have expected, having met him less than half an hour before – and then it struck her.
She wasn't fighting off any sort of input from him, whatsoever. None. Curious, she reached out gently with her mind, just brushing against the edges of his – and found a shield fully as complete as her own, if not more so.
Whether he noticed her probe or simply the puzzled expression on her face she wasn't sure, but his eyes met hers with concern as he paused and set his cup back down on the table. "Is something wrong?" he asked slowly. "I mean, other than getting totally soaked and having to listen to me beg for a guide to the campus?"
"Oh no, nothing wrong," Jean assured him quickly, her mind spinning. The only explanation she could think of for him having shields like that was if he was also a mutant, more than likely one with psionic abilities of some sort. It was odd, though, that Cerebro had never detected him. While she didn't have the Professor's knack with it, she should have picked up on him if he was this close to the Institute.
Well, he had said he was new to the campus, she reasoned, trying to push her immediate suspicions aside until she had more information. No reason to think that he was some sort of plant; perhaps he was just new to the area. Still, it would probably be better not to say anything, until she had more information. There was a difference between being cautious and being paranoid, even if it was occasionally a thin line.
"I'm sorry," she said after a moment, shaking her head as if pulling herself from her thoughts and smiling across the table at him. "My mind just wandered off for a minute. You're new to campus? Where are you from?"
"From New York," he replied, gesturing toward the Mets insignia on his jacket with a grin. "I spent the last couple years in Seattle, though – had to take some time off school for family stuff, and my parents moved out there after I started college. Figured I could use a change of scenery, though, so I more or less waved my finger around over a map and ended up here. How 'bout you?" he countered. "Bayville born and raised, or an import?"
"A little of each," she admitted with a shrug. There was something he wasn't saying, she suspected, but if he was a mutant, it was entirely possible he'd come here because of that, given all the media exposure the Institute had had over the past few years. "I'm originally from Annadale-on-Hudson, but I've been going to school in Bayville for years, so it seems more like home than home does, if that makes sense."
"Yeah, it does," he replied, dropping his eyes to his coffee for a moment before raising them again and eyeing her critically. "You don't look like you're old enough to have been in college for years, though, unless my age-reading-ability has seriously slipped."
Jean laughed and shook her head. "Hardly. I went to a kind of boarding school here – maybe you've heard of the Xavier Institute?" she asked casually, and saw a quick flash of recognition before he shook his head.
So, he had heard of it. Which could mean several things, really. It was just a matter of which, and why he was lying about it.
"I don't think so," he said with a smile and a light shrug of his shoulders, but the impression that he was hiding something grew stronger. "So you said it was some kind of boarding school or something?"
"Or something," she agreed. "It's a school for the gifted."
Chris laughed and shook his head. "No, never heard of it then. I'm about as un-gifted as it gets – I got through high school by the skin of my teeth, and spent my first couple years of college goofing around rather than studying." His smile faded as he grimaced and shook his head. "This time I'm going to get it right, though. I'm getting a little too old for the party scene anyway."
Jean rolled her eyes, not bothering to correct his misconceptions – or pretended ones – about the Institute. He'd heard of it, he had to know what it was. But they'd had students come before who denied having any knowledge of the place, despite the fact they'd hitchhiked hundreds of miles to get there, and she could understand why. Luckily, the Professor had found her when her powers first manifested. Mutants who lived in denial often kept trying to deny, even after there was no reason for them to. "Oh right," she said instead. "You're all of about 22, I'd guess? There are a lot of students here older than that – I have several in my classes. I don't think they're going to be measuring you for a cane just yet."
Chris shook his head. "Twenty-four, actually – which is pretty old for a full-time undergrad, and I know it. But I want to get my degree finished up, move on to grad school if I can get into one. Unfortunately," he added with a roll of his eyes, "I didn't end up with a full time schedule anyway – the hazard of coming in after the semester started. But it might be good to ease back in anyway."
Jean nodded approvingly. "It might, actually, if you've been away for a while. What's your major?" she asked, eyeing him curiously. "I'm guessing something in liberal arts?"
He let out a snort of amusement and shook his head. "I should tell you it's accounting, just to see what you'd say, but it's psychology. Always wanted to know what made people tick," he shrugged self-consciously as if expecting her to make some sort of negative comment.
Instead, she nodded again. "It's a fascinating area," she agreed honestly. "I'm pre-Med, myself, but I have classes in the psych department. One of which," she sighed, "I should be getting home to study for – I have an exam tomorrow."
"Awww, and here we never even got to a tour," he protested, then made a face as he glanced to the window, which revealed that the rain hadn't abated in the least. "On second thought, it might not be the best evening for that, anyway. Tell you what, meet me for lunch tomorrow," he suggested, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "I'll buy, and you can give me the full scoop on the campus and the psych department – or whatever you know about it," he inserted quickly as she opened her mouth to protest that she really didn't have that much information. "I mean, I'm just starting out here, and I can use all the help I can get."
The puppy dog eyes would've sold her, she had to admit, even if she hadn't been interested in seeing him again for other reasons. But she put up a token look of resignation as she got to her feet and smiled. "Okay, it's a deal, but we'll split the tab – I'll clue you in on what little I know about the psych department, and you tell me about Seattle." And other things she thought loudly, not projecting but simply pushing it toward the front of her mind, where he'd be sure to see it if he were looking. She wasn't sure whether or not she was disappointed when he simply nodded and got to his feet as well.
"Fair enough. Meet you here at noon?" he suggested as he bent down to retrieve his backpack.
Jean shook her head. "Make it 12:30, okay? I've got a class that runs until quarter after." Smiling warmly, she extended her hand, surprised to find that his was harder than she would have expected. "It's been nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Jean," he replied, and once again she caught a trace of that same look of recognition that she'd noticed when he'd first bumped into her. "Sorry again about your pants."
She shrugged her shoulders and chuckled. "Well, they're nearly dry, just in time to go back out and get soaked again. But I appreciate the thought, anyway. I'll see you tomorrow, then," she said, tossing one last wave in his direction before picking up her coffee cup and turning to head toward the doors. At least it wasdark enough by now that no one would notice if she kept the rain at bay.
She glanced back, once more, just inside the doors, and caught sight of Chris staring into his coffee. He was definitely a mystery. One that she fully intended to get to the bottom of. She just hoped that when she found out his secret, it wasn't one that would destroy the very tentative friendship that seemed to be developing between them.
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