Title: None of the Above
by: Satine16
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. They are all property of MARVEL. I don't do this for money please don't sue me!
Chapter 9: Stealing Time
"Good morning class," Jean walked into her morning classroom with a large smile spread from cheek to cheek. She wore a distressed denim jacket, pressed khakis and a spring green Donna Karen button up blouse.
"Ms. Grey?"
"Yes, Chelsea?" Jean looked up from rearranging the papers on her desk and wiggling her index finger to write the notes for the day.
"When did you find the time to get your hair cut?"
"This morning."
Jean's once luxuriously long red hair had indeed been cut. It now fell in dozens of layers from her chin to her shoulder blades. It was a total of ten inches of hair gone. She ironed it straight and each layer protruded neatly, framing her face.
"I like it," the small, freckled girl smiled.
"Thank you. I just felt it was time for something new."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Emma walked down the front hallway of the mansion wearing in a low cut ivory tunic styled sweater and a pair of black pants. The clicking of her high heels against the hard wooden floors of the mansion rang out rhythmically. A loud click of the heel, gentle tap of the toe. In her arms she held three Xavier's School binders: one for her Art History class, one for her Social Sciences course and one for her Contemporary Literature lesson.
"Ms. Frost!" the sickeningly sweet voice pierced the silence and disgusted Emma into a halt.
"Moira," Emma smiled, clenching her jaw and being overly affectionate. Slowly, she turned on her heel to face the voice.
"How are you?" Moira said, loping up in her brown Henley t-shirt and worn jeans. Her red hair was still damp from her morning shower and she wasn't wearing any makeup.
"Splendid. I must go," Emma said as kindly as possible, whipping around to continue down the hall.
"What is it about me you don't like, exactly? The fact that I broke Charles' heart? I doubt you're that sincere," she scoffed. Freezing, and narrowing her navy blue rimmed eyes, Emma turned to face Moira yet again. "Or is it that I threaten your status as alpha female? Or maybe," Moira took a few silent, buoyant steps in her Nike sneakers, "it's that I recognize you as vermin? You are conniving and you are insidious, Emma. I knew that from the start. I can read you and I know Charles and he's stupid when it comes to a pretty face. What are you planning?"
"Nothing. Maybe you hate me because I'm the new girl mounting your old love at night," Emma raised one carefully shaped eyebrow.
"This isn't about sex, although I'm not surprised you think so. You are a spotless, white, snow queen. Nothing gets messy around you, does it? You won't let it. Not even your processed blonde hair has a root," Moira walked towards Emma even more, standing on her tiptoes to get in her face.
"My hair is natural," Emma spat.
Moira laughed and turned on her toes to exit the hallway.
"Moira!"
"Hmm?"
"You are truly grasping at strings."
"I beg your pardon?" Moira turned again to face Emma, who was now advancing on her like a jungle cat.
"Charles isn't your boy anymore, and that bothers you. Doesn't it? You moved on to Sean and for years Charles kept you on a platinum pedestal, I've heard all about it. You got booted, didn't you? It must make your blood boil to see Charles fall for me. I'm everything you aren't."
"Emma, I have no desire…"
Emma cut her off. It was still her turn.
"I'm a psychic and you aren't. I'm in his everyday life and you aren't. And most importantly, Moira, I'm a ten and you aren't. You're more like a seven." Emma raised her eyebrow in a clean arch, waiting for a response. Waiting for the official gauntlet.
It never came. Moira simply walked away after fumbling with her tongue for a few minutes.
If you looked close enough, the tips of Emma's hair and toes were shining with that subtle glint of diamond.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, Jubes!" Lorna yelled as she pounded on the door.
"What do you want, Lorna?" Jubilee ripped her bedroom door open violently just to cease the incessant knocking.
"I wanna come in!" Lorna pushed her way into the bedroom.
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Why not?" Lorna stood facing her as she shut the door.
"You're with Bobby now."
"I see."
Jubilee stood in a thick aqua sweater and black, loose fitting leggings. For the first time since she turned fifteen, she wasn't wearing any make up and her usually sprightly dark hair lay flat on her head. It was obvious that she had been crying.
Lorna stood facing her, looking her opposite. She had on a tight fitting black t-shirt and low slung jeans that exposed her hipbones. Her green hair was tied back into an intricate twist and she wore an excessive amount of jewelry: rings on six fingers, silver bangles down her left wrist and three necklaces around her neck. Her green eyes were lined with imperfect black eyeliner and her cheekbones were highlighted with a tawny blush.
"I came to ask why you are so upset."
Jubilee just shook her head in disgust, "Bobby was my boyfriend."
"But you didn't love him."
Jubilee opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"Do you think he's a good kisser?"
"What!"
"To you, was Bobby a good kisser?"
"Well, yeah. He's not an idiot if that's what you mean."
"Right there!" Lorna snapped her fingers.
"What!"
"A kiss should make you shiver from head to toe and make you weak in the knees. The guy kissing you should make you forget your name and where you are. Any good kiss needs to be much so more than adequate. This isn't math class. Average is unacceptable! Don't be mad at him or at me. You're free!"
"Free for what exactly?"
Lorna shook her head and shrugged her shoulder.
Taking three strides, and Jubilee's face in her hands, Lorna pressed her lips against Jubilee's. Alarmed at first, Jubilee flailed her arms, but eventually gave in to Lorna. Her supple green lips were soft and the kiss was slow and gentle.
After a few moments, Lorna pulled away tenderly. "You're not bad."
"Ditto," Jubilee shrugged.
"Bobby wasn't the one you're supposed to be kissing for the rest of your life."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Das is good! Danke!"
Kurt smiled as Ororo finished pouring his tea.
"I'm so glad that you're back, Kurt. How long will you be staying?"
"As long as I must."
Ororo smiled although confused, and poured herself a cup of tea as well, taking a seat across from him at the kitchen table.
From the small staircase leading into the kitchen, a few cautious steps could be heard. Slowly but surely, Warren helped Betsy down the stairs and into the kitchen. He was wearing old jeans and a bright green t-shirt. Betsy had her left arm around his neck, and was wearing a simple slip dress that hung loosely from her body. Her dark hair was tied back into a loose ponytail.
"Kurt!" Warren smiled at the sight of the tea-sipping elf.
"Warren, mein freund! How are you?" Kurt stood from the table and hugged Warren.
"Excellent! Yourself?"
"Just fine. Elizabeth! How are you?" Warren couldn't help but notice the emphasis placed on Kurt's 'you'. Underneath his normally joyful voice he seemed too concerned for an old friend simply popping by.
"I'm so glad to see you, Kurt," Betsy embraced her friend and hung on to him as if he were a port in the storm.
"Warren, you eat. I'm not quite hungry, and Kurt can take me to my room."
"Are you sure, love? We just made it down here."
"Yes. I just want to lie down."
"Alright then." By this time Betsy was able to read the lines on Warren's face in the same way a Ranger can read the lines of the park map. He was confused and worried. Worst of all, he was sad.
"Off we go then, madchen," bracing her around the waist Kurt smiled an impish smile.
"Can you make it if we port?"
"I would love it."
In a flash of smoke and a whiff of sulfur they were at the top of the stairs.
"Which room?"
"First on the right."
"How are you, really?"
"Relieved to see you."
"I'm glad to hear it. Your letter…"
"I'm glad to see you got it."
"I bamfed as soon as I could. Fraulein…I am prepared to do what you ask. I think it's my turn to ask, now. Are you prepared?"
Sitting carefully down on the edge of the bed, Betsy placed her head in her hands.
"A woman my age can't possibly be ready to die, Kurt. But I'm ready to stop the sleepless nights, and the chronic nosebleeds, and the difficulty breathing. I'm ready to stop coughing blood and feeling the pain of my muscles breaking down and consuming themselves. I'm ready to stop watching the man I love die inside because I can't get better for him. No, I'm not ready to go and I'm not ready to stop fighting yet. But if it's time, then it's time. I'll make my peace when I need to."
His yellow eyes were wide and sad listening to her. Understanding now what Betsy had known for months. There was no happy ending here. There was no miracle recovery. She was dying.
In her letter she had asked an old friend to come conduct her funeral service.
Kurt closed the door as quietly as possible as he exited the room. "Heart of Jesus, once in agony, have mercy on the dying," he whispered and crossed himself quickly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Logan…"
"Don't pull away from me, Jeannie."
"I have to. Why don't you see that?" she rested her small palm against his jawbone. Against his warm flesh, he could feel the cool band of her engagement ring.
"Jean, I…"
"Shhh…" she pressed her forefinger to her lips. "Scott is waiting for me. We have a lunch date."
Logan licked his lips and shifted his stance towards her.
Jean felt as if she was breathing his body heat. Right then, there was no oxygen without Logan.
For a moment longer, Logan scavenged her eyes with his own. Searching for the answer she wasn't giving him.
"Jean!" Scott called from the top of the steps.
"I have to go," she bit her bottom lip.
"Jean!" he called again. His heavy footsteps pounded on the stairs.
Swallowing hard, Jean searched his face for a moment before continuing on.
"Hey, Red!" he called after her.
"Yes?"
"Your hair looks nice."
She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Thank you, Logan," she smiled her perfect smile at him.
He nodded his head once and turned the opposite direction down the hall.
"Hey, Logan!" she called him using her telepathy, "Why are you being so nice to me?"
He paused a moment but didn't respond and simply continued on his way down the hall.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Come on, talk to me guys."
"Talking to your lab results again?"
Carly lounged against the doorframe of the laboratory, enjoying watching Hank work before announcing her presence.
Hank sat hunched over his desk, he had spilled something copper colored on his otherwise immaculate white lab coat and a blue pen had leaked in the pocket of his yellow dress shirt. On his nose he had a pair of gold bifocals, and another pair on the top of his head. Hearing her voice, he smiled wide and pivoted his chair towards the sound.
Carly was smiling, her perfectly straight white teeth shining brightly. She left her dark hair down in soft waves around her shoulders. Her pants were navy blue with thin white pin stripes and her top was an icy, silver-blue. Her round lips were coated in shiny red gloss and her cheeks had been swept slightly with pale pink blush.
Walking over to where he was sitting, she threw her large navy blue bag next to his desk.
"I missed you," she smiled and wrapped her arms around him from behind, nuzzling her face in the nape of his neck.
"I missed you, too," Hank's voice adopted the softness he saved solely for her, and he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly.
"Any good news?"
"No."
Carly stopped smiling and heaved a heavy sigh.
"What's up?" she asked, coming around to face him. Lifting her left leg, she placed it over his legs and lowered herself onto his lap. Gingerly, she took the glasses off of the top of his head, placed them on the desk, and ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back off his face. Carefully after, she took the second pair of glasses off his face and kissed the bridge of his nose softly. Smiling sweetly, she wiped away the little bit of lip-gloss she left behind.
"Her proteins are denaturing and I don't know why. The translation of her mRNA is completely out of whack. The enzymes in her body are undergoing strange reactions with competitive inhibitors I've never even seen before, let alone know how to work with. They're blocking substrate reactions throughout every organ system. She's going do die once the molecules in her body completely stop DNA transcription and protein translation. I am completely at a loss for what to do."
"Oh, Hank…I'm…I know that she's your friend and…" Carly's eyes were glassy and wide.
"And nothing. For the first time in my life I find myself completely unable to save a patient's life, and never have I wanted to so badly," he sounded defeated.
"I'm so sorry," Carly whispered, placing her hands on the back of his neck and leaning her head on his chest.
Tasting the words in his mouth for a moment, Hank spoke carefully and deliberately. "I can't look Warren in the eyes anymore."
"What?" Carly pulled herself away from the comfort of his smell to look him in the eye.
"Every time I see him all I can think about is being in his shoes. I can't imagine losing you." Lifting his large hand to brush a few fine strands of hair from her face, he got lost in her again and his voice caught in his throat, "I only just found you."
A small smile crossed Carly's lips and she quickly pounced to kiss him, leaning her entire body into the kiss. Hank's hefty hands practically fit around the entirety of her tiny waist, and he pulled her towards him hungrily. All he wanted right then was to feel her skin against his, to smell her shampoo and perfume everywhere around him, and to never have to let her go.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was late when Kitty made her way back home, and she was relieved to see that the light in her room was put. She didn't want to make any excuses to Peter: it would be much easier to simply crawl into bed next to him and snuggle up as if nothing were wrong.
Her manicured pink nail flipped on the light, and she lost her breath seeing him waiting for her, sitting upright in the dark. His imposing frame sat lengthwise on the bed: his large legs straight out in front of him and his arms crossed over his barrel chest.
"I was worried," his voice was shaky. "Where were you?"
"I went shopping and for ice cream," she smiled and lifted her red and white H&M bag.
"Oh."
"Is something wrong, Peter?" her voice was smiling as she took off her coat and started to put her new clothes away.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
He couldn't help staring at her smile. For a moment he was silent, picking at the cuticle of his left thumb.
"I spoke with Bobby today."
Kitty, out of his eye line, froze frightened for a moment, "You did?"
"Yes. It was very interesting."
"Really?" she asked, feigning ignorance as best as possible, "what did he have to say, sweetie?"
"Nothing much."
"Oh."
She walked across the room and opened the large oak drawer.
"Just that you are having my baby."
Kitty spun around and looked into his eyes. They were sad and hurt and a little angry.
"He had no right…"
"When were you planning on telling me?" he cut her off.
She stood silent, frozen and not wanting to lie to him.
"You weren't going to tell me? Did you think I would miss it nine months from now?"
"Peter…"
"We need to talk, Katya."
"Yes, Peter. We do."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Ah can't believe ya didn't like it!" Rogue was smiling stepped into her pajama pants.
"Dat man has played the same person in every movie he's been in, and it's nevah any good, Cherie!"
"Ah think he's cute!"
She left her tight fitting jeans on the chair, and sat down on the bed next to him. Her thick hair was tied up halfway, leaving most of it to fall around her shoulders. Her long sleeved, cotton stretch t-shirt went nicely with the Smurf pajama pants she bought last week. Her hands were covered with simple black gloves and she wiggled her toes inside her black socks.
Remy hadn't changed yet: meaning he simply hadn't taken off his jeans and climbed into bed in his boxers. His dark eyes glittered and smiled and his long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, crossed at the ankle. He had propped himself up on some pillows, and underneath his dark blue t-shirt you could make out the subtle lines of his abs.
"Ah'm tempted to say that you have bad taste, Chere, but we both know that ain't it," he smiled at her with his devilishly wicked grin.
She half smiled back, suppressing a laugh between her lips.
"Ah'm gonna go wash my face while you congratulate me on dating you," she hit his arm playfully and started to roll off the bed.
"Wait," he grabbed her arm.
"Yes, you're hot. There," she had stopped smiling all night. There was something about the evening that had been so perfect. Simple and fun: like when they had first started getting to know one another. So delightfully…uncomplicated. And he seemed so happy. His cocky smile had been plastered on his face since he had pulled up on his stupid motorcycle.
"Yeah?" she laughed.
"Ah'm gonna say somethin', Chere, and Ah don't want you to say nothin' back. Okay?"
"Okay," she raised an eyebrow confused.
"Ah love you," he looked straight into her sparking green eyes and said it. He had been so happy with her all night. She looked so simply stunning: her rosy lips smiling and her eyes shining. He cherished the sound of her obnoxiously loud laughter. Until tonight he hadn't even realized how much he had been missing it.
She held his eyes with her own a moment longer, finally understanding the sparkle and the fire they'd had behind them all night. He had never said that before. She felt frozen in time and space.
Carefully, she stood from the bed and padded, dazed, towards the bathroom.
"Really?" she asked, sounding confused.
"Really," he answered, smiling kindly.
She started at his face a moment longer, studying his features. She closed the door behind her silently.
He loved her.
Remy loved her.
She held her own gaze in the mirror for a moment, letting the faucet run. Her reflection was taunting her. Telling her loud and clear: "Of course he does."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The naïve moon gleamed white in an inky sky that night. Its virginal halo of light touching the entire corrupted scene through opened balcony doors.
Perched like a cat on the balcony railing, Logan sipped his twelfth beer that night and smoked his fifth cigar. In the pure light, his skin seemed dark and his tangled hair seemed even darker. Since she had arrived he hadn't turned to look at her. He could hear her every move behind him, but he didn't want to see her.
"Logan…?" she called to him from the doorway.
Turning slowly over his shoulder, like a stalking predator, Logan locked his eyes into hers.
Ororo leaned against the wooden doorframe, wearing only a fitted, white t-shirt and a pair of white lace Brazilian shorts. Her pale hair was pulled up halfway, giving the illusion that her hair fell from the top of her head in a fountain of silver and white.
"What do you want?"
Slowly she stepped towards him, frightened. Her dark skin blazed a beautiful rich color against the pale contrast.
"Are you alright?"
Laughing bitterly he took a swig of his beer and said, "Darlin', I haven't been alright for a long time."
She stared at him with those large, doe like eyes, their piercing pale blue color almost startling. "Logan…" she moved farther forward and rested one hand on his bare chest and the other hand on his black sweatpants.
As she touched him he tossed the butt of his cigar towards her, causing her to hop away in an attempt to avoid being burned.
Her mouth was open and her eyes were wide when he looked into her face. She was waiting for an apology. He gave her a shrug.
"What the hell, Logan? I must be crazy! All this time, I was thinking I can give you something you don't want," she sighed and shook her head.
Leaning his shoulder down, Logan placed the brown beer bottle in line with all the others from that night. His oceanic blue eyes seemed navy blue as he looked up at her. There was no light behind them. He held her eyes for a minute in silence. It was the first time in a long time he didn't flinch away from her.
She felt the hot bundle creep up from the pit of her stomach and slide through her esophagus like vomit, "I love you, Logan."
He didn't move. He didn't breathe. He didn't blink. For a moment Logan sat entirely still, processing what she had just said. Then, turning away from her he growled low, "Get out."
"What?" she asked, her voice higher than normal.
"Get out."
"Logan…" she took a half step towards him.
"I never promised you anything," he turned away from her again.
She wasn't crying. At least she wasn't crying.