A/N: This chapter goes more in-depth.


(Volume: 1 Chapter: 2)

Chapter 2: alice in wonderland


" PHLEW!" Julian spat straw out of his mouth when he came to, completely confused now. There was a dark, gray sky overhead…soil under his knees…
rich brown soil…all over his uniform too…no, that wasn't soil all soil. He looked up in horror and a cow moo'ed in his face, dropping some grass clippings.

He scrambled back. He hated and feared cows. Aside from the fact that they were extinct now! He stopped when he felt his hand sink into something
warm and squishy. Oh god. He stared at his dirty hand and shuddered, then struggled to get to his feet. His knees were weak.

The cow—or cows—yes, there were several—watched him in mild interest, chewing their cud and swishing their tails.

This wasn't right at all. Julian ran as fast as he could from the cows. He would have calmly faced down an army of Skrulls…but a single cow…not to mention
a herd of the ungodly creatures…one was following him. He was sweating bullets, and his hands were shaking. He whimpered and tried to fly over the fence
in his way, only crash into it, fairly hard.

" HahahaHA!" There was a shrill of laughter that rose in pitch, then ended abruptly. He turned his head slowly, expecting to see a young child—and there was
perhaps the creepiest thing he'd seen yet. A girl was watching him.

She was a pale girl (with terrible dirt smudges all over her skin and odd clothing), a bit younger than himself, with black hair, tangled like a crow's nest. She was
quite thin, and frail looking. Her clothing was so strange, like nothing he'd seen before. Some kind of rough burlap dress, or something. It was stained with dirt and
something darker that looked like it might be blood.

That wasn't the most disturbing part, though. It was her big green eyes. He'd never seen such cold, dead eyes, even in those he had fought. They had no bottoms;
if there had ever been a soulless creature…there were bags under them. Her lips looked grayish. He shuddered and pulled himself up the fence.

" Hello," he said, warily.

She didn't respond. Just watched him. She was standing very stiffly.

Then she made an uneven humming noise, tuneless, pointless.

Whatever had happened, he couldn't stay here. He had to get away from the cows—and from this—whatever it was. It couldn't be a real person. He'd classify it as
more of a zombie or something.

He jumped over the fence—deciding to question his powers later—and ran as fast as he could, towards…anywhere.

He ran until he could run no more, then he curled up in a ball and slept beneath some bushes. He hadn't realized how tired he was. It all came at one overwhelming
moment—darkness fell, he couldn't see his way, he was hungry and thirsty and cold and dirty…he missed Sofia…Cessily…it was too fresh.

So he slept.

He woke up with the dawn and tried to focus his thoughts.

He was obviously on earth…and to be on earth, he had to have gone back in time…because earth was gone. Through varying sets of circumstances, the globe
had been annihilated; much of the human populace along with it, although the X-men (now a united Global front) had managed to, with Forge's help, design
self-contained life systems that currently supported about a tenth of the earth's former population. Most mutants had survived, having the edge.

OK…for this to be possible…it had to be a time displacement. He'd heard about them before, just never believed them. Nimrod occasionally—according to rumors
and legend—popped up in battle and neutralized or displaced combatants. Apparently, Nimrod had no affiliation—one of the pieces of information that David had
managed to gather was that the Skrulls also had a myth about the pink robot showing up in battle and displacing their soldiers.

Perhaps it was damaged.

Whatever the case, he'd have to hang tight until the X-men could get him. They would get him, he was sure—they had a time manipulator, Kiden Nixon. It definitely
wouldn't be right away though—they had a battle to finish.

Back to hanging tight. He picked at the grass glumly. Perhaps he shouldn't have run from the girl; she might have been frightening, at the moment, but she was
human…humanoid, at least…and where there was another human, there was sure to be food and water. He should backtrack.

To his surprise, she was almost in the same place he'd left her last night; now she was leaning her elbow on the fence, watching the cows. He was still in the woods
when she tensed; he had the feeling she had sensed him.

"Um, hi," he called, when he was a few hundred yards away (hoping to avoid the cattle altogether). "Sorry, Miss…I didn't mean to…last night…" he trailed off; she didn't
even turn to look at him. Maybe she hadn't heard. He waited until he was almost close to her.

"Hi," he said. She still didn't turn. He put his hand on her shoulder, uncertainly, but determined. She would answer him.

" Hrrrupf," she made a sound—like an animal snarling. Her lips curled so they had little square points, at the touch of his hand, and he involuntarily pulled it away, despite
his determination. It was…instinct.

Her eyes were bloodshot.

" Do you speak English?"

Silence.

" Are you a mutant or a human?"

Silence.

"What's your name?"

Silence.

" I'm Julian…Julian Keller," he said, offering his hand to her. She was still watching him. "I go by Hellion, too. I'm telekinetic." He'd never been careful about revealing he
was a mutant to anyone. He was proud of it.

Silence. Still watching him. His hand waited in the air, then dropped to his side, after about a minute.

"It would be polite to tell me your name."

The girl looked away. Her breathing was a bit raspy.

He took a closer look at her—a bit more thorough then he had the night before, when he'd simply viewed her as a 'monster'. By bright daylight—it wasn't as gray today,
things were lighter—she didn't have as severely sickly a pallor. The bags under her eyes—dark like bruises—were less striking now, and now that it was light
enough he could see that her lips were full and pink.

Her hair was still tangled into knots, and she was wearing the same strange thing as yesterday. He didn't know of a word for it.

" I'm…if you're mad about yesterday…I ran because I'm afraid of cows," he said, kicking the ground.

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. Her expression was clearly superior.

" Hrrum." She nodded, then climbed over the fence like it wasn't there—and walked, with ease, towards a massive cow. Julian leaned on the fence, trying to relieve his
shaking knees. He watched in disgust mixed with fascination as she stroked the bovine's nose. It closed its eyes, apparently enjoying the contact.

Then…she laid her cheek against its nose.

Julian backed away, alarmed. He couldn't bear to watch.

"HahahaHA!" Again, that weird, weird noise, many years too young to be coming from a girl nearly his age. Childlike delight. But she seemed intelligent—he could
see that. What was—could she—

" Can't you talk?" he asked suddenly.

The girl shook her head at him, her hair flopping over her eye.

"Oh," he said. Her silence suddenly made more sense. He'd heard of mutes, although he'd never met one. She obviously wasn't deaf.

" I'm sorry…I didn't even think." He rubbed his neck. Awkward. "Can you write?"

She stared at him.

" I'll take that as a no."

" Hrrum." She was over the fence again—she pointed, down the field, and made a gesture he took to mean 'follow me'. Then she started walking—she moved
fast—straight into the brush. He scrambled to keep up.

Just when he thought they would never stop walking, she turned left abruptly—into a clearing. There was a small, weatherworn cottage there, surprisingly neat and tidy.
There was smoke coming out of the chimney.

It all looked very old. He'd never seen anything like it.

The girl led him up to the door and opened it. She stood for a moment in the doorway, looking straight ahead—then she motioned again for him to follow.

He stepped inside. Thank god—it was warm and dry and safe. There was food. And there—there was a woman, with kind green eyes, black hair—and a outfit he did
recognize, from history books. He'd had an exam on these people. A Quaker. Okay.

The woman stared at him, alarmed.

"Laura?" she asked, banishing the thought that she too was a mute.

The girl—Laura—took his hand and held it up to show that he was a friend. Her hand was warm and dry, and quite strong. Work-roughened. She dropped it almost
immediately after, her manner gruff.

The woman blinked, and set down the dough she'd been kneading. "Hello," she said warily. She raised her eyebrow, and Julian realized she was looking at his uniform—
which was very out of place her.

"Uh—hi," he said awkwardly. "I'm—I got lost in your cow field."

"Oh," the woman said softly. She didn't look all that comforted, understandably.

"I'm not from around here," he added. He couldn't think of a good, believable way to explain that he was a mutant from the future. So he decided to skip it entirely.
He'd read enough bad time-travel books already to know that always turned out poorly, with lynch mobs and torches.

"I see," the woman said. "Are thou a Friend?"

"…yes?" Julian wasn't quite sure what she was asking him.

The woman was cautious. "My name is Sarah Kinney, stranger. She there is Laura Kinney, my daughter. We are Friends, and of good faith."

"Julian Keller," he repeated. "I…um…like I said, I'm not from around…and I'm lost…I don't know what it's like here. Are you...are you a Quaker?"

"Yes." Sarah's eyes sparkled, as if daring him to speak against Quakers.

"Can I—have sanctuary?" He couldn't believe he'd remembered that word. He'd learned it a long, long time ago in history class…flying a paper airplane to Sofia's desk
with a little note written on it, asking her out. The word sanctuary had been said in the background. He hadn't been too interested.

He was sure interested now.

Sarah froze. "What exactly am I protecting thee from?" she asked. Her voice was a bit cold.

"Nothing. I mean, I haven't gotten anyone angry…" Julian struggled for words. "I need somewhere to stay…I'm really hungry…and I imagine what I'm wearing isn't too safe."

"No, it is not," Sarah said, relaxing ever-so-slightly.

"I'll do what I can to help," Julian offered.

Sarah looked at Laura.

"What say thee, Laura? He stays?"

Laura nodded slightly. "Hrrum."

"Mmm." Sarah touched her dough again. "Thee will have to sleep in the barn. We may be isolated…but I will not have my house immoral." She looked at Julian again.
"I do have clothing you may borrow. My late husband. They are large but Laura can cut them down to size. She is talented with her needlework."

Julian glanced at the girl. She stuck her tongue out at him when her mother wasn't looking, and he realized that, not only was she intelligent—she was full of sauce.

So much for first impressions.

"Thou agrees?"

"Yes, it's perfect," he said, hoping to God the cows didn't sleep in the barn too. Laura saw this look and the corners of her lips twitched up, with dimples—like she
was reading his mind.

"Laura, fetch Mr. Keller some clothes, then. And, sir—if thou would be so kind as to add kindling to the fire. The logs are piled behind the house."

"Okay." He left the house warily, wondering how his life could have gone so downhill in such a short time. From billionaire to sewage-worker to—to a slave for two Quakers.

Why him.

Laura's head peeked over the top of the stairs. She had some fabric slung over her shoulder; Julian assumed it was his new clothing. He stood up--her eyes widened,
and with a weird raspy noise she fell off the ladder.

"Oh my god! Are you okay?"

He almost slid down the ladder to where she was lying, her face contorted. She'd fallen a whole story down…all because he'd been stupid and taken his shirt off,
forgetting this wasn't his home. Granted, his was covered in cow dung and dirt and grass stains…but still. And now, Laura looked broken and a bit blueish.

Except she wasn't. Laura suddenly sat up; he heard some weird popping noises, then her coloring corrected itself to its pale hue with very slight blush on the cheeks.
She popped her neck, then stared at him, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress. It was no longer the weird sack she'd been wearing—she now wore something
resembling Sarah's outfit, except smaller, and more suitable for a young girl. He could see her figure now, and realized he might have underestimated her age. Laura
looked to be about 17 or 18 in proper clothes, instead of the 14 to 15 he'd thought earlier. Her hair was brushed, too; it had a glossy sheen. He suddenly realized she
looked shy. She'd probably never seen a man close to her age, living so remotely—and almost definitely not half naked.

"Give me the shirt, Laura," he said firmly. If her mom wanted it that way, he wasn't about to change things for her. He hoped Laura wouldn't tell—then he remembered,
thankfully, that she was mute.

Slowly, almost unwillingly, she pulled the shirt off her shoulder and held it out to him for inspection. He pulled it on backwards first (which made her smile again, slightly),
and then drunk-buttoned it in his haste to get it on. She made a sound, shook her head, and pushed his hands away, then proceeded to correct it. He turned beat red—
what the hell would he say if her mom came in right now? He'd end up being roasted on a spit, that's what would happen.

"Hrrum," Laura made a soft noise and touched his throat with her thumb. He jerked backwards like she had just shocked him.

"Absolutely not. We get clear on this—right now—you are not to touch me, just like I won't touch you. Under any circumstances other than CPR, and that will be through
a straw. Got it?"

Laura tilted her head, pursing her lips and cocking her row, obviously confused.

"Never you mind." He took the pants from her. "Can you, uh, leave so I can finish? I'm really hoping to have something to eat."

Laura nodded then headed for the ladder, pausing for one last curious glance.

Sunrise. He was awoken by a rooster, of all things. It was crowing right at the window beside the little straw pad he was sleeping on, with some kind of quilt. It
was surprisingly comfortable and warm.

"Fucking bird!" he hissed, nearly rolling to the opening in the loft. It jolted him wide awake—he sure as hell wasn't going to recover if he fell down there. He peered
out the window—sure enough, the figures of the two women were already moving outside, bringing in logs. He felt like an asshole for sleeping in.

He straightened up, then made his way to the cabin, feeling awkward again. But Sarah knew what she wanted—she handed him an axe and told him to go get
more wood. He flushed. "Um…"

"Has thou never collected thy wood before?" Sarah asked, her eyes widening.

Julian wanted to snort because she said 'wood'...because that's what Santo would have done. But now this was vital to his survival. "No…I'm…wealthy…where I live.
Can you…can you show me?"

"Laura," Sarah called outside. "Please come to help Mr. Keller gather wood."

"Where is she?" he asked, confused. He couldn't see her, even looking out the door. Was there a second story? But the cottage looked tiny.

"Tending the cows. My Laura has excellent hearing."

Julian blinked. The cow field was almost a mile away (thank God).

"I suppose thou could help her hunt later on," Sarah said thoughtfully. "Perhaps she could show you her traps, and you could empty them."

"Laura hunts?" Julian blinked again. That little girl?

"Mhmm. She oft brings home venison. My Laura is a very gifted huntress." She smiled slightly, mischievously. "Unlike many of the gentle gender, I believe women
to be as capable, or more, than thee men. I should not seek to put holds on Laura's talents…as long as they bring her no harm."

Possibly the first feminist, Julian thought, although he did not say this aloud. He wondered what Sarah would think of Sofia, and Nori…and Emma Frost.

He did snort at this, but disguised it as a cough.

Sarah looked up sharply. "Thy has caught cold?"

"Oh, no. I had something in my throat." Julian realized that illness was much more feared in these times than his own…where he just had to have Dr. McCoy inject
him with an air syringe to the neck to instantly relieve all symptoms. He wasn't eager to let them think he was sick—he didn't know if they'd turn him out or something.
He'd only known them for a day.

"That is well." Sarah went back to sorting fabric scraps.

About ten minutes later, the door opened, and Laura looked up at him. She made a following motion, then turned, and led him to the back of the cottage. She picked
up a heavy-looking axe singlehandedly, then waved for him to follow her again. She led him further and further along the edge of the woods, finally holding up her hand
and pointing to a tree stump that had obviously been used before to split logs. Beside this was a pile of tree sections.

"Hrrum." She put a log on the stump, stretched back—and wham! Julian blinked, terrified. He was going to hate chopping wood, he could see that already. He wished for
his powers again…but Nimrod's blast seemed to have altered him somehow, altered his chemical make-up or something wordy and scientific sounding like that, so he thought.

She picked up the halved pieces, stood them up again—then—wham! quartered. She spun the axe in her hand like a twirling baton, then presented it to him,
handle first, with a slight smile. Her lips looked quite pink.

He took it from her and swallowed as she hefted a log onto the stump for him to chop. He closed his eyes and prepared to swing.

"Mmm-MMM!" Laura grunted at him, putting emphasis on the last syllable; he opening his eyes and found that she was making eyes-open gestures at him. She shook
her head in disbelief and kicked the ground. It was obvious she wanted to call him stupid.

Julian hated when people called him stupid. He was annoyed now. He decided to take it out on the log; he took aim and swung the blade down as hard as he could,
with an angry face. It missed the stump completely, flying out of his hands and imbedding itself in the tree across from him.

"HahahaHA!" Laura gurgled with laughter, and had the audacity to point at him.

"God," he said, even more pissed off now. He had a mute girl laughing at him. And pointing. It was like saying 'I can't talk, but I'll really make an effort to laugh at you
and make sure you know what an idiot you are
!'

"Hrrum." Laura walked to the tree and pulled the axe out with a little grunt of effort. She presented it to him again with both hands, miming that he was to keep a tight
hold on the handle. He rolled his eyes and snatched it from her.

"Thanks. Thanks for nothing."

Laura frowned, and her eyes tilted down. It looked like she was pouting. Maybe she hadn't realized he wasn't really upset with her…just annoyed.

"Aww," he said. "Sorry. I didn't mean that." He ruffled her hair, grinning. She was cute when she pouted; she had a very distinct aire of 'little girl' around her, all innocence
and curiosity—and transparency, every emotion displayed on her face. It was like watching a slide show.

She wrinkled her nose at him and shook her head like an irritated kitten. Or a rabbit. Then she danced away and pointed at the wood pile, obviously meaning he
should get to work. He tried three more times and failed to hit the log—then on the fourth try the blade finally spliced through it, a little lopsided but who cared.
Laura showed him how to raise the axe again, still wedged in the wood, for the finishing blow to split the halves; then she left, patting him on the shoulder briefly
and giving him a small smile again. Her eyes lit up when she smiled.

How could he have thought they were dead when he saw her first? She was the definition of alive. He must have been seeing things. Maybe he had head trauma.