Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.
4. Oops
Thursday, 25 of October
It was a cold evening. Irbis had barely eaten any dinner – her paleness and her anxious stomach providing all the proof she might have wanted to claim some sort of indigestion. Nevertheless, the empty stomach didn't complain for food. If she just closed her eyes, she could be right back in Dallas, Creed – Victor – telling her it was the adrenaline's fault. Telling her it happened to all amateurs. Fidgeting lazily with the pen, Irbis forced herself to look back at the paper. For the fifth time she took a deep breath and readied the pen just half an inch above the paper; and for the fifth time she sighed in her indecision. Say what? Apologise how? Fix the problem... when?
She shivered and her mind forced her to acknowledge that the room was getting freezing. Glancing around her, her eyes spotted the air-conditioning control. "You're such a masochist," she told herself off; but she still didn't switch on the heat. "I'm not used to it," she frowned at herself. "Plus, it's unhealthy." Despite hesitating abandoning the desk, she got up and fetched a cardigan.
Creed – Victor – would have probably laughed at her. He'd have told her that, come winter, she'd want nothing but the air conditioning up and burning. In her mind, she straightened up and answered that winter asks for central heating or, better yet, a good fireplace. That's what she had grown up to, after all: thick layers of woollen clothes, a good fireplace, and plenty of good old-fashioned work to get the blood running and well warmed up. And the best option of all, a strong pair of arms enveloping her body. His strong arms, his sexy growling, his tender kissing, his loving protection.
"Stop it," she warned herself aloud. Her mind kept trying to paint her image of Victor Creed in radically different colours from the reality and she could not let that happen. Infatuated or head over feet, she couldn't sugar-coat the man's real character. Strong arms and sexy growling, true; but she could never forget that his kissing was rough and hungry, that his protection would never be anything but obsessive and jealous.
And she couldn't avoid the confrontation either. She chuckled. Confrontation! She didn't even know if he had found out she had left Wausau. God only knew when he would get her letters. Anyway, the harm was done; there was no point crying over spilt milk.
Irbis picked up the pen and breathed out.
I sayed you that I come to this school because I can have a job here and don't have afraid about false documents because the majority of people here don't have true documents. I thouhgt that it was only what sayed that was: a school for mutants. Today I was talking wiht a girl and she says that this school belongs to the X-Men.
I am sorry. But I didn't now and that is the true: you can smell that I say the true. I never had come here if I now that this school was where the X-Men lieve. Now I have to arrange the problem. Unhapilly is not fast of resolve. If was possible, I leave today. But that is suspicious, so I have to wait. I am not searching of house now because any house I find is too close of here. Mister Samars say he has contacts in many places and I tell him, please, a place in California because are many Portuguese in California. California is enouf far, rihgt?
I am very sorry.
Irbis
She closed the letter and put it in the envelope. She'd have to go into town the next day to post it, but such visits to town had become so common that she just borrowed the car that Mr. Summers had allowed her to drive – thanks to Jubilee's intervention – whenever she needed to go anywhere.
Irbis had been at the school for a week – seven days, exactly – and she wasn't sure when Creed – Victor – would find out she was gone. The next day, when she went into town, she'd look for a church and would light up a candle to Our Lady of Fatima, asking for her protection. Asking her to keep Creed busy for a month or two until she had her situation thoroughly settled. Not Creed, Victor. She had had no idea, really. Not until Jubilee had started telling her all about the good ol' days when she used to go everywhere with the team and how she used to be Wolverine's partner. Her world – barely freshly remade – had come crashing down into a great pile of disappointment.
The knock on the door was unexpected and she froze, holding her breath. It was nearly 11 at night; who on earth could it be? Then there was a second knock and Jubilee's voice whispered through: "Isabel? You're awake?"
Her heart beat normalising, Irbis quickly got up and slid the letter into her coat's inner pocket. Then she opened the door to an uncharacteristically unsure Jubilee.
"Is a problem," Irbis asked, mildly worried over the unexpected visit and the girl's apprehension.
"No, I mean... uh... may I come in?"
Irbis opened the door after the slightest hesitation and the teenage girl walked in slowly, her gaze going over every little thing in the bedroom, which made Irbis feel happy for not having anything personal in plain sight. Except the open dictionary on the desk and the pen next to it. It might not be particularly personal, but it might beg some unwanted questions.
As if she had heard her thoughts, Jubilee wandered towards the desk and played with the thick volume, flipping blindly through the pages. Although she was curious and the girl had come all the way of her own accord, Irbis didn't ask anything. Instead, she sat on her bed and waited.
"Are we, like... friends?"
That was a strange question for a teenager to ask a grown woman she had known for three days. More than that, however, it was a delicate question.
"I don't know," she answered. "But wid time, we'll see."
"Right," she mumbled, narrowing her eyes and focusing all her attention on the dictionary while her brain analysed something.
If there had been a traditional analog clock in the room, Irbis was sure its tick-tack would have been heard for an eternity. The image of Creed – Victor – back on her mind, she decided that it might be dangerous for her to become friends with anyone that either belonged or had belonged to the X-Men. A wave of sadness washed over her, but it was the sensible thing to do.
"I talked wid mister Samars," she broke the silence. "I don't want stay in New York."
It got her attention. The girl looked up and frowned. "Why not?"
"Too people. Too confusion."
It seemed the spell had been broken. Jubilee pulled the chair away from the desk and straddled it. "Pity. You're a good listener."
The smile twitched a corner of her mouth. The day after their trip to the mall, Jubilee had tracked her down and spent nearly three hours literally yapping about anything and everything. Irbis had not let on that the long, winding speech was much too fast and convoluted for her to fully understand details; she just got an inaccurate approximation of its content. On that same day, Jubilee had sat on a fence talking while she took care of the horses.
"I always was a good listener," she revealed.
Resting a thoughtful chin on her arms, Jubilee breathed out. "Wolvie's suspicious of you."
Her heart missed a beat.
"He says you're hiding something and that that story of yours is, like, fishy at best."
Fishy, uh? "He is correct."
The girl hesitated. "Huh... he is?"
Irbis got up. The warmth she had felt towards the girl had grown cold; which was all for the best. She could not make any friends here; she couldn't even make lasting connections.
"I am hiding me," she said. "And about my story... my story is only de pieces dat I think is ok tell."
Jubilee looked back seriously, the childish teenager Irbis had met gone and replaced by... she couldn't tell who or what. That was a part of the girl that the chattiness no doubt hid from most people.
"Your friend is suspicious. He can smell if I say a lie or a true, right? Well, tomorrow, you can tell him to come and smell de true off what I say: I am not here to tell anyone about me and my life; but I am not here to say lies and treason people dat trust me. You want to tell me secrets? I promise you, Jubilee; I give you my word off honour: I never, never tell your secrets to no one. In no situation."
"Woah!" She grinned, but not her usual carefree grin as she was clearly trying to scatter the growing tension. "No need to get ruffled. When Wolvie's in a bad mood, he'll suspect his own shadow. Relax!"
But the tension was still strong in the air. "So why you come here?"
She shrugged and looked away. "I didn't have anything better to do, I suppose."
"Do not lie."
Jubilee arched an eyebrow in a way that reminded her of the rough Mr Logan. "You got heightened senses all of a sudden, huh?"
Irbis sighed, controlling her irritation.
"Look, I was just listening to Scott and Hank and Wolvie talking about you and I realised that I've told you tonnes of stuff about me, but you haven't, like, said a word about yourself. And I was just wondering... I don't know. Why you're so reserved and stuff, I guess. I know you've been used for a lab rat and all, and... well, I just wanted to let you know that there's lots of people here that know what it feels like to go to hell and back. And some know it, like, literally. So, if you ever want to, like, talk or anything..."
Irbis felt the barrier between them grow thicker. That was an offer she would never – could never – accept. Besides, if anyone knew she had fallen for a sociopath like Creed...
"Thank you." It was all she could say, really. "I will remember dat."
"Right," Jubilee got up, looked around once more. "I guess you wanna hit the sheets and sleep off the rest of your indigestion, huh?"
Irbis forced a smile. "Yes, I think I should sleep, right?"
"Then I'll get off your hair," her carefree smile was back on as Jubilee walked over to the door and waved cheerfully. "Nighty night!"
The bedroom felt suddenly colder. Irbis sat on the bed for a minute, then she let herself fall onto her side. She had got herself into such a mess.
If you've enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review. Just let me know what you liked and disliked so I can keep improving my writing skills. Thank you.