Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I'm going to try to get a chapter up every week, seeing as I (vaguely) have a plot. This chapter's a bit of a cliff-hanger, but that's just to keep your interest up. I hope I got Rogue right. Oh, and could any of you tell me what happened at the end of the third movie during the credits? I (being stupid) walked out when they started and didn't see that bit. Reviews love!
Anyway, thanks to: Certh, Small-Fri, Cath, Ashley, xdanishxpastryx.
Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own X Men. I own Megan and her mum, but that's about it.
Before that morning, Megan didn't even know where Westchester was. She didn't even know that there was a Westchester, so when her mother told her to get dressed because they were getting a plane there she was considerably surprised. Not as surprised as some might've been; Megan's father was often taking his children off on plane journeys whenever he felt like it – he called it 'bonding time'. But that was on a private plane, and Megan's mother had taken her on a public plane. Megan had never been on a public plane before and she found the experience disconcerting – so many people all around her, waiting in queues, banging her with their suitcases and talking loudly over one another in a babble of foreign languages. Megan's father, Ryan Ruthie, didn't approve of his children on public planes – it was one of those odd things, like people who hate gum-chewing – so Megan didn't know why her mother had taken her on one. Unless her father didn't know, because he would definitely not have agreed to it. The fact that her younger siblings, Shelly and Michael, weren't with her didn't bother Megan; she often had to go off to far away places in planes with just her mother, when she went to see her doctors. They were the ones that told her one day she would be able to see again, because she could feel the light. She could always feel the light, like heat in her head.
Now Megan was in a taxi, to Westchester presumably. When she had asked where they were going, 'Westchester, New York' was the only answer she received, which worried her. Her mother seemed unusually tense and stressed – she had barely said a word the entire ride. Megan bit her lip and folded her hands in her lap, wondering what the landscape was. She didn't like going off to strange places, especially when she had no idea of what was going to be there. When I get my operation, I'll be able to see and stupid things like this won't matter so much. Still, she felt panic stir in her brain and suppressed it, counting to ten silently. Her mother didn't appear to notice. Megan continued the counting, going over the circumstances with logic to soothe her nerves. 1, 2, 3, 4...her father didn't know where she was, or he'd never have let her on a public aeroplane. He was like that about aeroplanes. Which meant her mother was hiding something from him. 5, 6, 7, 8...and now they were somewhere in New York, or so she had been told. What was in New York? Was that the city or the state? Somewhere that her mother didn't want her father to find out about, so it couldn't be a doctor or a specialist. 9, 10, 1, 2, 3...they'd been driving for hours. Wherever they were going, it took time to get there. None of that gave her much reassurance – in fact, it made the fear worse. Megan had to clench her fists to stop the panic. Mum wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. I'm going to be just fine.
"Meggie honey, we're here." Her mother's voice was like a shock in the silence but Megan didn't jump. She just nodded and let her mother help her out of the taxi. While her mother paid the man, she tapped her foot on the gravel and shivered. It was colder than she'd thought; she'd only brought a thin denim jacket. There was no noise apart from a few distant children's shouts, so she figured that they weren't in a city. She wished more than anything that she could see, just so she wouldn't be so helpless in circumstances like this. "Are you cold?" She heard her mother ask. "I told you to put a warmer jacket on."
"Well, I didn't know we'd be going to Westchester," Meggie snapped, feeling irritated. "Mum, where are we?" Anne made no reply, simply taking her daughter's elbow and leading her forward. Megan resisted the urge to pull free – where would she go? Most likely she wouldn't get four paces before falling over. They were walking on patio now; Megan could feel the difference through her shoes. Her mother pressed the bell and Megan instinctively shrank back as it opened.
"Mrs Ruthie?" A woman's voice, kind and slightly stressed. Surprised too. Megan recognised a teacher's voice when she heard one and she relaxed slightly. She had been taught to trust those with a teacher-voice because it meant they were in authority, even though she knew better than to rely on that instinct.
"Yes," her mother answered anxiously. Megan had never heard her sound so prim and uptight. "May we see Miss Munroe?"
"You're speaking to her," the other woman – Miss Munroe – answered in a marginally more cheerful tone. "Would you like to come into my office?" Megan's mother tightened her grip on Megan's arm and they followed Miss Munroe's clicking heels on what Megan recognised as a marble floor. "Here we are."
"I'd like to speak to you in private first, if you please," Megan's mother stated. Megan could hear the tension and it made her nervous too. "Could Megan wait outside?" Megan's composure slipped a bit. She was to be left alone, in this strange place?
"Of course," Miss Munroe replied but she sounded a bit bewildered. "Megan, you can sit on that bench there." Megan didn't know what bench or where, but evidently her mother did because she steered her and settled her onto the seat like one would a doll.
"Stay there," Anne told her daughter. "Don't move anywhere, do you understand?" Megan just nodded, clenching the seat of the bench so hard her fingers hurt. She wouldn't move. Not here, where she knew where nothing was. She felt her mother leave and go into the office with Miss Munroe. Now she was alone. 1, 2, 3, 4...
Megan wondered what where she was. She wondered what the place looked like, what sort of place it was. 5, 6, just find out, 7, 8, you know you can do it...and she could if she wanted, but she wasn't supposed to. Megan took a deep breath to calm herself, sitting back on the bench. She could feel the panic inside her, threatening to come out like a trapped animal in an almost broken cage. She was alone and her Sighted person was gone. Surely those were mitigating circumstances? At any rate, she was seventeen and old enough to choose what course of action to take. But she needed to hurry. A cry was building up inside her but she held it back. She would not do something that would embarrass herself or her mum. No, she would find out this for herself.
Are you sure you want to do this? A voice inside her head asked.
Yeah, I am, Megan told herself firmly. She took a deep breath and held herself completely, utterly still. Then she listened. Her ears, used to doing double-duty, tuned in on the low murmurs coming from the rooms around her. In some there was one person talking, in others there were many people talking. A hotel? A hospital? The second seemed more likely. Now, for the harder part.Megan focused on that Feeling, the feeling inside her like a miniature radar, and swept it out through the air, covering every inch of space. There were no people within about ten metres of her, but she broadened the range just in case. No, wherever she was, it was empty. So she focused on the objects instead. A corridor because it Feels narrow, going down into a wider room. Stairs in the wider room, pillars too and more corridors leading off from thereDoors leading off from the corridor.And someone there, in the wide roomComing. Small...well, not that small...young...how did they just appear?
"Hi!" The cheerful voice interrupted Megan's explorations and she blinked her sightless eyes behind their dark lenses, smiling tentatively. "What are you doing here?"
"My mum's seeing Miss Munroe," Megan answered the girl. After all, she sounded friendly enough and there was nothing about her that felt particularly wrong or malicious.
"Professor Munroe? Cool, that means you're new then. I'm Kitty, by the way. Kitty Pryde. And yeah, I should be in class but I got sent out for talking. I mean, how ridiculous is that? It wasn't like I was talking to myself – at the very least Jubilee could've been sent out with me."
"I'm Megan, Megan Ruthie," Megan answered. "And...could you tell me where I am? My mum didn't say and I...I'm blind." It was always slightly embarrassing admitting that – the whole please help me, I'm a little blind girl, help me, act was humiliating for a seventeen year old. She wondered what Kitty looked like, whether she was surprised or unsure, smiling or planning an escape.
"Blind, huh? I kind of suspected that, because of the sunglasses. Most people don't wear them indoors. At first I thought you were on of those 'fashionista' types with the big sunglasses look, but there was something about the way you moved your head. Funny how you can tell that sort of thing, isn't it? And as for where you are, you're in Xavier's School for the Gifted," Kitty replied, not sounding at all bothered by Megan's lack of vision. "But that's a bit of a mouthful, so we call it Mutant High." Megan's jaw dropped and her sightless eyes widened behind the dark lenses.
"Mutants?" She repeated in shock. Megan knew what mutants were – she'd heard about them on the news – but she'd never actually met one before. She didn't even realise there were schools for those sorts of people. Come to think of it, she'd always been told mutants as Bad People, the sort that should be locked up automatically – her dad absolutely hated them. Still, Megan had never really bothered about them; to her, they were just something that her dad occasionally got angry about, something that never came anywhere into her life. Why had her mum brought her here? "Does that mean you're a mutant?"
"Yeah," Kitty answered and Megan could hear the pride in her voice. "Isn't that why you're here? Because you're a mutant?"
"No way," Megan replied, shaking her head. "I'm not a mutant. Well, if I am I never noticed it before." She was certain of that. The only thing different about her was that she was blind, unless that was her mutation. She couldn't help thinking that that would be a really bad power to have.
"Weird," Kitty stated, sitting beside her on the bench. She was a skinny girl, Megan noted when Kitty's arm brushed hers. "I don't know what you're doing here then. Maybe your mum got mixed up and came to the wrong place."
"I hope not," Megan sighed, thinking how annoying it would be if she was right. "We had to get on a plane to come here."
"A plane?" Kitty gasped and Megan could hear the newfound respect in her voice. "You must be pretty rich to get a plane here just for one day. Unless you're staying?"
"I doubt it," Megan shrugged. "I didn't pack anything and I didn't notice anything missing this morning. I guess I'll have to wait and see."
"How would you tell?" Kitty asked curiously. "I mean, if you can't...you know, see it."
"I can just tell," Megan shrugged. Then she grinned. "I lose stuff all the time of course. I'm supposed to put everything back in the same place when I use it, but I always forget or I can't be bothered. Still, if everything's in its right place then I can find things easy enough. I mean, I wouldn't notice if something small went missing, but I'm pretty sure I'd feel it if half my clothes weren't in my wardrobe."
"Fair enough," Kitty replied. "That sounds pretty cool – my room's a tip. I share with Jubilee and she's got her side of the room covered in posters that always fall off in the night, multi-coloured clothes covering every inch of space and her magazines everywhere. Half our walls are pink, from when we started painting them and then ran out of paint, so the other half's white. At the moment our floor's all messed up because we had a semi-slumber party about two nights ago and she managed to tip an entire bottle of Coke on the floor. The drink, not the drug so don't worry," she laughed. "And as for my side...clothes, ice skating boots, photos, hairdryer, shoes, make up – hell, I bet even my phone is somewhere in the pile of junk on my bed!" She laughed again and Megan joined her with a twinge of envy. She didn't know what her room looked like, what colour the walls or the floor or the bed were. Sure, she knew there was a rug on the floor and the wardrobe was four paces to the left of the door, but she couldn't say what it looked like.
"Is this a boarding school?" Megan asked, even though that was pretty obvious from Kitty's room description.
"Yeah. You see, most of the kids here come as runaways after their families reject them and such. There are kids here who came here with nothing other than a change of clothes and some brought even less. Everyone has a roommate, unless you've got a reason for not wanting one. Like, I don't know, if your power meant you were nocturnal or something, so you liked to stay up and watch TV all night. Not such a good example, but it'll do." Megan wanted to ask if Kitty had run away from home, but thought better of it. They barely knew each other. She was about to ask about the sort of lessons they had when the door opened beside her.
"Kitty, what are you doing here?" Miss Munroe asked in surprise. "Shouldn't you be in class?" Kitty kicked her feet nervously.
"I got sent out," she replied truthfully. Megan wondered what sort of teacher Miss Munroe was and what sort of punishment Kitty would get.
"For what?"
"Talking."
"Kitty, this is the third time this week..." Her voice trailed off and Megan knew she was considering what to do with her – she wanted to talk to Megan but she should deal with Kitty too. "Alright Kitty, listen. I'll let you off this time but only because I need to talk to Megan. If it happens again, detention for a week. Now, hurry off back to class." Kitty let out a triumphant hiss and...vanished. Megan was about to ask how she'd just gone, but Miss Munroe began first.
"Come with me, Megan," she stated firmly, taking the girl by the hand and leading her into a room. Plush carpet covered the floor, so deep that Megan's feet almost sank into it completely. She could feel how light the room was in her mind, the 'heat' coming from the far wall. "Take a seat." She sat Megan down in a comfortable, cushioned chair. Megan could feel her mother beside her, even more nervous than before. That worried her but she was determined to be strong, and so held her chin up and straightened her back proudly. She would handle it. "I presume Kitty told you a bit about this school?"
"If you mean it's for mutants, then yes," Megan answered frankly. Her mother gave out a slight hiss that seemed to Megan both annoyed and fearful.
"You're right there," Miss Munroe told her warmly. "We take in mutants and educate them so that in time they can take a place in society with the skills they need. Most of the students here are runaways, unaccepted by their hometowns, sometimes even by their families. They come here as a refuge."
"Cool," Megan remarked slowly. It seemed to be the only appropriate thing to say. After a pause, she hesitantly asked, "Why am I here, then?" Beside her, her mother froze and turned to her sharply.
"Megan, I-" Anne began, but she cut herself off. There was a long silence before she began, sounding more delicate and fragile than Megan had ever heard her sound. "Meggie honey, you're...we think you're a mutant."
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The girl formerly known as Marie D'Ancanto sat on her window ledge, a curtain of dark brown hair concealing one side of her pale face. Rogue spent a lot of her time that way, watching the other students go about their business or, if it was a cold day, simply watching the wind in the trees and the movement of the clouds. The other students may have named Jubilee as Gossip Queen but only because they had no idea how much Rogue saw. It gave her a bizarre interest to watch other people live normally, able to hold hands, hug, kiss and simply touch. She found it amusing that once she had been just like that, like what she now saw as a privilege. For a short time – three months to be precise – she had been privileged enough to touch again, but three months was too short. Far too short to do what she wanted to do. And Bobby...it was like he didn't believe it, didn't trust her, didn't appreciate how privileged she was. It was like he had known all along that it would come to an end and when it did, he was more supportive than she'd ever thought he would be. Still, as ungrateful as she knew it was, she wished he'd been a bit more enthusiastic when she had been able to touch him. Screw calling it a privilege – it shouldn't be.
She hadn't believed it at first, that the Cure was failing. She had seen it on the news, reports of mutants who'd regained their powers unexpectedly, causing terrible accidents. She'd crossed her fingers and prayed, repeating in her head that it was just a fluke and her powers were gone for good. Her kisses with Bobby became more desperate while he became more distant and she could tell he was scared, scared for himself. And it made her furious. She had shouted at him, shouted at the world, shouted into her pillow for all the good it did her. She refused to believe that God would be that cruel. Meanwhile, people began to avoid touching her and everything that she'd wanted became her worst nightmare. It had been an accident, when it came back. She had been in Maths, queuing up for a homework sheet, when the kid in front of her tripped. Rogue grabbed his arm to stop him falling and that was when she felt it. That feeling, alien and unnatural, the feeling of someone's life being mixed with your own. The feeling that she hated more than anything. And she gave up denying it.
Rogue had her own room, a few doors down from Logan. In a way, she loved it more than anywhere else – it was her refuge, her sanctuary. But then, as Logan had told her so many times, she couldn't hide forever. She did her best at being normal but sometimes – most of the time, in fact – it was too hard. It was all she could do to stop herself from screaming, 'It isn't fair!' Sure, it wasn't, but what could anyone else do. This was something that no one could change. It was no one's fault but more than anything she wished it was, so that she could direct her pure fury at something real. The pent-up anger got worse when she went out, when she saw people hugging and holding hands and just touching without even realising how much it meant. She wanted to scream at them, but it wasn't their fault either. She hated the isolation she had thrown herself into, a self-built prison she couldn't escape. Her room was her prison too, a double-edged sword. More than anything what she wanted was someone, someone to simply be there for her and understand her. But, from what Rogue had already judged of her fate, she wasn't the lucky type.