Author's Note:

Hey, readers!!
Now, seeing as most of us are writers here, we all know that the greatest pleasure of writing is the writing itself... closely followed by reviews. No reviews for the last chapter, and I know this story isn't too popular, but I also know that it's read, so I would love, love, love, LOVE it if you left a review when you finished reading. I type these up in my free time (which isn't much, considering I work a full-time job, still go to high school, and barely manage to keep a social life), but I type them up with a lot of love!
So, be kind, review... And if there are any requests, let me know!
Here there's a bit of Kurt and Ray, but next chapter it really gets started, because I'm bringing the reason I kept watching the show--the Brotherhood! Haha, can't wait! So review, and I'll have it out this week. Otherwise, I just might make another disappearance... Not, I couldn't do that...
XOXO

"Just A Dream" by Carrie Underwood

I can't even breathe....
It's like I'm lookin' from a distance, standin' in the background
Everybody's sayin', he's not comin' home now
This can't be happenin' to me, this is just a dream...

Hot skin, warm breaths, hotter lips…

Darkness, dark skin, humid air, darkness, I'm on fire…!

Someone's saying my name, but for some reason, I can't hear it over the sound of my alarm clock and somebody softly shaking my shoulder…

What...?

"Andrea…"

"Is she, like, dead?"

"Andrea, I need you to focus on my voice and come back."

The beige roof of the car faded away, and for a moment, I saw a pair of green eyes haloed by red hair staring down at me. I blinked, and the car roof filled my vision again, only lighter this time. I looked out the heavily tinted window, but the car was still hidden in the shade. Where was the light coming from?

"Andrea, focus."

"Try calling her Danielle."

"Danielle? Danielle, focus."

Where on earth were those voices coming from? And who the hell was Danielle? I settled into the fire again and smiled, enjoying the pleasant warmth that he gave me.

"Is Danny awake?"

I froze.

Danny, Danielle, Andrea…Andrea-Daniele. That girl.

As if a bucket of ice water had been thrown over my head, I awoke with a start and jolted into a sitting position. For some reason my eyes were already open, and very, very dry. I blinked at my foggy vision, and quickly my eyes started to sting and water. Vaguely I realized that what had just happened wasn't real, but I was too distracted by the harshness of reality to try and figure out why.

"She's awake now," Jean said with more relief than there should have been in her voice. I bent over and groaned, rocking my body back and forth.

"Ugh, my eyes burn," I hissed, holding my palms against my eyes.

"Good morning, Danny," the Professor said, his voice promptly followed by the almost-silent whirring of his electric wheelchair. "How are you feeling?"

The Professor: Professor Xavier, head of the Institute, mentor, telepath, kind of like me, but not really.

Jean: another telepath chick.

Me: Andrea-Danielle.

Why did my name seem so foreign while all of their names felt so familiar?

"…Disoriented," I admitted.

"Well, that is to be expected, considering how deep of a trance you were in," he said, and I felt a soft bump as he came to the side of my bed.

My bed? Where the hell was I, and what were they all doing there?

I pulled my hands away and looked around. The walls were a neutral beige, a perfect combination with the hardwood floors and wooden furniture. Several boxes were piled up against the wall, boxes my mother had sent in the mail, I remembered. As I looked around, the memories started to come back: we'd arrived last night after a day of connecting flights and angry fellow passengers, and after a small run-in with a certain "Kurt" and his angry girlfriend, Scott had taken me straight to my room, shown me the bathrooms, and left me to sleep. I hadn't unpacked, explored or even showered, and had simply collapsed on the bed.

Then I'd had that weird dream that wasn't a dream or a flashback, more of a…Well, more of a very realistic, erotic experience, which didn't make sense, seeing as the person I'd dreamt with wasn't present. I looked up and saw that everyone was staring at me as I came to this conclusion. Only one word could be used to describe the situation.

Awkward.

"Um… trance?" I repeated, eager to change my train of thought. He nodded.

"It would seem that you can enter the consciousness of people you have created a bond with," he explained. "I tried to tap into your mind to see what was going on, but your consciousness was completely overruled. If I'm not mistaken, you made several bonds the other night?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember their names?"

Cristina, Andrew, Robert, Jordan and Frances…

"Apparently better than my own," I answered. When nobody said anything, I assumed that I was to elaborate. "I couldn't remember my name when I woke up."

"Do you know which connection you tapped into?" the Professor pressed. I couldn't help but shake my head: any which one of them could've been having an erotic experience, none of them were virgins… Well, maybe Robert still was, but I couldn't be sure.

"The images were very vague," I explained carefully. "They were mostly… sensations. It was only when I started to wake up that I realized they were in a car."

"They were driving?"

"…No…" I trailed off, and looked meaningfully at Jean. Her hair looked perfect and her outfit, a yellow long-sleeve and jeans, gave me the impression that she was going out today. I couldn't blame her, it was Sunday. Her eyes widened as she registered what I was trying to tell her and her cheeks turned a very light shade of pink.

"Um, Professor, maybe we should let Danielle get dressed and have something to eat before we start interrogating her," Jean suggested quickly. I sent her my thanks and looked innocently at the Professor. He nodded in agreement, folding his hands in his lap as he seemed to think about it.

"Yes, Jean, you're right. My apologies, Danielle," he said, and started to roll back towards the door. "Jean, Kitty." I finally noticed that the brunette from last night (the angry one) was standing by the door with crossed arms, a curious look on her face. I smiled and waved shortly.

"'Morning," I greeted. She smiled back.

"Good morning!" Wow, she had a perky voice. "We'll, like, see you down at breakfast, okay?"

"Alright."

With a last smile, she walked through the wall while Jean and the Professor exited the traditional way, through the door. I sighed, and with only the slightest amount of disgust, realized that I was still wearing the same clothes I'd traveled with. I probably smelled quite ripe as well…

"Breakfast is in ten."

Scott smiled as he walked past my door, and I couldn't help but smile back. He seemed like a nice guy, and something about him made me feel safe. What it was exactly, I couldn't explain; it was just a feeling I got.

"See you there."

7:34 AM

Second Floor, Xavier Institute

How anyone could dislike water was beyond me.

In the bathroom, I'd found a basket filled with wonderfully scented soap, shampoo, conditioner, a wash cloth and even a generic bath robe. All of the liquids had been packed into plastic bottles, and I couldn't explain why I'd gotten more of a home-made feeling than a generic, bought-a-giant-container-at-a-department-store-and-then-filled-a-whole-bunch-of-little-bottles-with-it feeling. There had been a small, "Welcome to the family" card attached, with a very elegant signature beneath it. I couldn't make out much more than an "O", but figured I'd ask the Professor at breakfast so I'd know who to thank.

Now hot water cascaded out of the shower head with amazing pressure, and as I stuck my head under the scalding stream, I couldn't help but sigh in pleasure: this was heaven. I wasn't sore and my head didn't hurt, but the relief that washed over me gave me the impression that I had just fought a battle single-handedly and been delivered to Heaven's Gates.

Talk about exaggerating, huh?

I turned off the water and reached for my bathrobe on the towel rack. Just as I'd wrapped it around myself and completely stepped out of the shower, with a strange, overwhelming sucking sound, it happened.

"Washing away the evidence, baby?"

I smiled and turned around. There was no curtain on the shower anymore (we'd gone a bit crazy) and I'd just turned off the water, so I was certain that he noticed the droplets of water dripping down my body. For a moment I marveled at how easy it had been to break down his walls, get past his so-called "morals", but as I watched him and the adoring look in his eyes, I realized I didn't care: he was the one, morals and society be damned.

"No, bebe," I answered, and plucked a towel off the rack. "Es que me dio calor."

He grinned knowingly. "That's no surprise," he said, and then added, almost as an after thought, "I hope you're not in too much--"

"Estoy bien," I assured him quickly; I didn't want to let him know of the pain.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

There was a short pause, and just as I felt it couldn't get more uncomfortable, it did. "You know," he began, "She's gonna start calling soon, so--"

"Look, babe," I said, cutting him off, "I know you feel bad about hurting her, but--"

"I don't."

I stopped. "What?"

"I don't feel bad because she's never going to find out," he stated, and the intense look in his eyes made me shiver. "Nobody is going to find out."

There was another short silence. "...Do you mean it?" I asked quietly. He nodded, and I couldn't stop the smile from breaking across my face.

"You okay with that?" he asked.

"Yes!" I nearly screamed, and launched myself at him. Our bodies were, of course, hyper-aware of each other, and before I knew it, the towel had been abandoned and we'd succumbed to sweet temptation once again on his bathroom floor...

Cold tiles.

Cold air.

Cold reality.

No shower could wash away the crawling sensation on my skin, the dirty feeling that I felt ran in my very blood and made me want to vomit. The bile rose in my mouth and I lurched for the toilet, but all I could do was dry-heave and clench my eyes shut against the pressure.

This episode had been a flashback. It had felt exactly like the other one not even an hour before, and had it not been for one simple fact, it would have been impossible to tell the difference. Had it not been for the fact that I just happened to remember this specific day from my own experience and recognized the couple, I would have sworn the episode was just like the one this morning. No, this morning the girl had been having sex with her new boyfriend while I had been sleeping, and somehow, I'd tapped into the experience; but according to this vision, it hadn't been the first time they'd done it.

This flashback had been a very vivid memory of the first time that Andrew had slept with Frances. On our ten-month anniversary, of course. How did I know? Because the necklace he had given me that night was hanging around her neck in the vision, and I had very dramatically tossed that necklace into the bottom of my suitcase while packing, so it couldn't possibly be a new memory. There had been a certain relief in the vision from this morning that contrasted the underlying tension in the one just now, and a feeling in my gut told me I was the reason why.

The psychotic girlfriend was finally gone.

This time I actually did vomit into the porcelain bowl, but I couldn't guess what my stomach had managed to dispel. Rather than figure it out, I flushed the toilet and left that mystery unsolved. My knees shook as I stood up, but I gripped onto the counter and refused to collapse again: I had never collapsed before, and I wasn't going to make a habit of it. Tears threatened to spill as betrayal's knife dug deep, but I grit my teeth and pushed the feelings away; I wasn't going to make a habit out of crying over him, either. A couple of splashes of cold water and an extensive tooth-brushing later, I stepped into the hallway with a despicably fake smile on my face and hurried to my room.

A vanity stood close to the entrance of my room, and after throwing my dirty clothes into a corner and locking the door, I braced my hands against it and stared into the mirror. My face looked the same as it always did and none of the inner turmoil showed, save for the eyes: not only were they moist from the bathroom incident, but the irises were glowing golden at the edges of the irises. I blinked and they stopped shining, but I swore there was the slightest hint of golden in the brown that hadn't been there before. To keep from panicking, I took a deep breath and uttered something of a personal mantra:

"This, too, shall pass, and if it doesn't, it happens for a reason."

Deep down went the betrayal.

"This, too, shall pass, and if it doesn't, it happens for a reason."

Into the air went the rage.

"This, too, shall--"

A knock came at the door. Not bothering to move anything but my arm, I reached over and opened the door to reveal Orangey. The freshness in his aura seemed to immediately wash away the ill feelings, and despite the nervousness I could detect on him, I felt more renewed than by the mantra. He'd had something planned to say, but the moment he saw me, it stopped in his throat.

Whatever the reason behind his strange behavior, I had a feeling it wasn't centered on my eyes, so I immediately relaxed and smiled cheerfully to avoid an awkward silence. "Morning," I greeted.

"Morning," he greeted back, quickly snapping out of it. "Um, breakfast is over."

This was surprising. "Seriously? What time is it?"

"Nine thirty."

I couldn't help but stare. "Are you serious?" I asked incredulously.

"Yeah, the Professor sent me to check up on you."

"Crap!" I hissed, and rushed for the closet. It was a walk-in, and even if all of my clothes fit in one box and the closet was much too big for me, I'd been assured that I'd be getting roommates soon enough to share it with. The door closed behind me and, in record timing, I pulled on a white camisole, a brown vest and a pair of torn jeans. At the last moment I remembered it wouldn't be appropriate to wander around barefoot, and slipped on a pair of worn tennis shoes.

Once I'd finished, I came out of the closet and was surprised to see that Orangey was still standing in the entrance to my room, fingers stuck into his two front pockets. I pretended not to notice his eyes run up and down me and smiled as I followed him into the hallway. Just before closing the door, I grabbed my small messenger bag and slung it over my shoulder.

"Well, it's your first day here at the Institute, so the Professor asked me to show you around," he explained, moving quickly towards… well, I actually had no idea where we were going, in all honesty. I'd been exhausted last night and hadn't been able to fully appreciate the aesthetics of the Institute (or remember how to get from the entrance to my room), but I took full advantage now of the opportunity to admire the statues and architecture.

"Thanks," I said absentmindedly, distracted by a weirdly-shaped marble bust.

There was a familiar "poof" sound and I walked straight into a black cloud. "Good morning, X-Man, and welcome to--!" was all I heard before colliding with a firm, but furry person, and in a confusion of limbs, smoke, and exclamations, I found myself staring up at the ceiling with somebody thrown across my stomach.

"--Xavier's Institute for Gifted Children," he finished with a sigh. "Morning, Ray."

"Smooth," Ray responded. I looked at him with wide eyes, but all he did was arch a brow in amusement. Somehow, this had to be normal for them, right? The mini-Houdini pulled himself up and offered me a hand.

"Sorry about that, I need to vatch vere I'm porting."

I accepted the extended hand and took a look at the teen as I stood up. On any other occasion, some guy literally popping out of nowhere would have freaked me out, but the calm from him and Orangey (aka Ray) in regards to the "porting" made it hard to. He had a thin, lithe build and shaggy blue-black hair, but what caught my attention the most were his eyes: they were open and kind, something that was hard to find in society nowadays. His clothes were normal enough, a navy button-up T-shirt and jeans, and while he waited for me to respond, he nervously placed a baseball cap on his head.

He was worried I wouldn't like him. Again, just a feeling.

"No worries, I'm easily distracted," I said, nodding at the bust. "George Washington here got my attention. But thanks for the warm welcome…?"

"Kurt. Kurt Vagner," he answered, smiling. The German accent was more of an undertone, which led me to believe he'd been here for at least a year, if not longer.

"Danielle. Andrea-Danielle Cruz," I reciprocated, holding out my hand to shake.

"That's a pretty long name…"

I laughed. "Danny for short," I said, and then turned towards Orangey. "This poor guy's stuck as my tour guide today." The moment the words left my mouth, something spiked in the atmosphere. I whorled around, but nobody was in the hallway except for us.

Strange...

"Really?" Kurt said, genuine surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," Ray muttered hesitantly.

"I thought Kitty vould be showing her around."

"Well, he asked me."

"Okay, okay," Kurt said in surrender; it didn't take a telepath to sense the defensiveness rising in Ray's voice. "Vell, anyvays, are you ready to go? Bobby and Cannonball are already in the garage." I looked between them questioningly, and Ray quickly stepped in.

"Kurt's gonna take us downtown. If you want--"

"Hey, I have an idea!" Kurt suddenly exclaimed. "How about ve show you around Bayville? Come on, it'll be fun," he promised.

"That's what I was gonna--"

"Come on, Danny! Please!"

His energy was contagious and impossible to resist, so without further hesitation, I took his offered arm and followed him down the hall, a huge smile on my face.

"Come on, Ray!" I grabbed his wrist and pulled him along after us, not a clue as to what was going to happen later on.

Maybe if I'd known then, I'd have stayed passed out on the bathroom floor for a couple more hours.

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