Demon In My View
Chapter Five: In the Sleepless City
by
Libby Edwards
Disclaimer: Property of Marvel Comics. I do not own them. I sure-as-hell wish I did.
Author's note: I originally posted the first two chapters of another X-Men story of the same name on ff.net, as well as on a personal page I had created. After the second chapter, and despite some very nice reviews (thank you, those that gave me feedback!), I decided that I really wasn't happy with where the original story was going, although I was excited about the basic premise (which unfortunately was not made very clear in the initial posting). I took some time off, rethought my idea, and this story you are now reading is the result of that retooling process.
While I have tried to stick as close to canon as possible, I am a firm believer that canon is there to be a support, and not a stranglehold, so if there are a few departures from canon here and there it is because I truly did not feel that those elements were necessary. Also, as in all my Logan-centric stories, Wolverine is tall, because I don't like a short Wolverine. Call it artistic license, if you like. :)
Enjoy!
"You'll never guess who's comin' with us."
Ororo looked up as Logan entered the Blackbird's hanger, her brows lifted in silent question as he slammed down his duffel bag with a look of disgust. It was Sunday morning, and she was in the process of refueling the massive jet...or rather, she was operating the control panel that took care of the refueling for her...in preparation for their flight to New York.
"Well, whoever it is," Ororo replied to Logan's initial question. "Obviously you are not pleased."
"You got that right," Logan growled.
"Who could possibly be going with us that would put you in such a foul mood?" Ororo asked, returning her attention to the fueling program.
Logan leaned against the control deck beside her, his arms folded over his chest. "My favorite couple," he said with an edge of sarcasm. "Rogue and the Cajun."
"You do not like them?" Ororo asked with surprise.
"Not together, I don't," Logan said. His eyes seemed to positively glower. "I like 'em just fine when they're not in the same room, but ever since they broke off whatever little relationship they had..."
"Ah, yes...I know what you mean," Ororo said with a smile, glancing up at Logan sympathetically. "There has been a certain amount of tension when those two interact. Why are they coming with us? Is the professor asking that they come?"
"Only Remy was comin' with us at first," Logan replied. He watched casually as Ororo began closing off the refueling mechanics, the soft whine of the hydraulic robot arms doing the actual work echoing dimly in the hanger's cavernous space. "Chuck wanted him to come along so we'd have a back-up for the jet in case anything went wrong while we were in New York."
Ororo laughed lightly. "I do not think we have anything to worry about. This is not a mission."
"Yeah, well, you know Charlie. 'Better safe than sorry,' and all that."
"I know." She finished with the robotics program, then shut it off and sent the refuelers back to their respective alcoves via the remote system. "So how did Rogue become part of our little group?" she asked.
"Beats me." Logan shrugged. "I guess she found out Gumbo was goin', and she told the professor she had some urgent shoppin' to do in Manhattan."
Ororo laughed again. "You are probably right," she said. "We will just have to make the best of it, I suppose. Perhaps we can keep them away from each other for most of the evening."
He snorted. "We can try."
There was a buzz from the far end of the hanger, and a section of the wall lifted soundlessly as Xavier and his wheelchair hummed into the room. "Good morning, Ororo...Logan," he called, his chair gliding across the floor to where they stood. "Almost ready to go?"
"Yes," Ororo said. "I just finished all the pre-flight preparations. We just have to load our overnight luggage onboard," she added, glancing at Logan with a capricious smile. "And wait for Remy and Rogue, of course."
"Ah, yes...they should be along shortly," Xavier replied, apparently oblivious to Logan's look of irritation.
Ororo noticed the black garment bag lying across his knees. "Are you coming with us as well, Charles?" she asked.
He looked puzzled for a moment, then he followed her pointed gaze to the garment bag and shook his head with a smile. "Oh...this isn't for me." He picked up the bag by its hanger and proffered it to Logan. "This is for you, of course," he added apologetically. "I almost forgot...thank you, Ororo."
"For me?" Logan looked both curious and suspicious at the same time, but he reached out and took the bag anyway. "What's in it?"
"A tuxedo," Xavier replied.
"A what?"
"Did you not tell him, Professor?" Ororo asked in surprise. She looked at Logan with a slight smile. "Dr. Shaw has asked us to attend the conference dinner tonight. It is a formal affair, apparently."
"I naturally assumed that you would not have formal attire, Logan," Xavier added, a cheerful glint in his eyes. "I took it upon myself to provide you with appropriate clothing...as long as that was fine by you, of course."
Logan glared at him. "Doesn't look like I have much of a choice."
"Not if you don't want to offend the newest member of our teaching staff by refusing his invitation," Xavier replied pleasantly.
"Is that why we are spending the night?" Ororo asked, skillfully putting herself between Logan's generally pissed-off expression and the professor's milder one. "I was wondering, since classes start tomorrow."
Xavier waved a negligible hand. "Don't worry about your classes...we will cover for you tomorrow morning, in the interest of bringing Dr. Shaw here in a comfortable manner. The dinner after the conference will apparently be quite late."
"Are Rogue and Remy going to the conference?" Logan asked.
"No. They're only accompanying you as extra-hands, if needed."
The door on the other end of the hanger opened again, and this time Rogue bounced through, looking decidedly lovely in a black catsuit that covered her from neck to wrists to ankles, black knee boots, and a long black leather jacket belted at the waist. Loveliness aside, she also looked a bit overdressed, especially compared to Ororo's faded jeans and simple blue blouse, and Logan's black sweat pants and t-shirt.
"Mornin', everybody!" Rogue chirped cheerfully. "We ready ta go or what?"
"Almost," Ororo replied with a quiet smile. "We are only waiting for Remy, I suppose."
The door opened once more as Remy entered with utterly perfect timing, wearing his brown duster as always and carrying a green canvas johnny-bag over one shoulder. He slowed a little as he entered the hanger, his lips curving in a inquisitive smile as he watched them all, watching him.
"Y'all waitin' on me?" he asked.
"Don't worry, sugah. You're not late," Rogue replied with a saccharine expression. "Ah just got here mahself."
"Dat's good to know," he said, his voice tinged with something indefinable, and a slightly uncomfortable silence seemed to fall between them.
"Did you pack everythin'?"
"I did." More silence.
"Well," Xavier said finally. "I'll leave you to whatever you have left to do. I would suggest you leave as soon as possible, though."
"Everything is ready," Ororo replied. "And I am ready whenever the rest of you are," she added, looking at the others pointedly.
"Yeah, yeah...we're goin'," Logan grumbled good-naturedly. He picked up his duffel bag and headed for the jet...Remy turned and followed after him, Rogue bringing up the rear with a decidedly springy step.
"Where's your suitcase, Rogue?" Ororo called after her.
"Ah already put it on the Blackbird!" Rogue replied, grinning at her over one black-clad shoulder.
Xavier placed a hand on Ororo's arm. "Be careful as always, Ororo," he said.
"Of course."
"And watch Logan for me, if you would."
Ororo's brow furrowed slightly. "Watch Logan? Why?" Her mind immediately recalled the memory of Logan sitting on his bed, two mornings ago when she had gone to awaken him for their training session. Logan's head in his hands, a look of weary pain on his face...Does the professor know? she wondered...
"Because Logan can be slightly, well...antagonistic," Xavier replied...and he looked toward the plane for a moment, totally missing the way Ororo's face smoothed and her shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit. "Dr. Shaw is an easily antagonized man, depending on the conversational subject in question." He looked back at Ororo and smiled. "Just monitor how much trouble Logan gets into...you know how he can be."
Ororo smiled back. "Yes, I do," she replied. "But I don't think you need to worry about Logan...he always seems to be on his best behavior when the two of us are together."
"That, my dear Ororo, is exactly why I suggested that you go along," Xavier said with a laugh. "You seem to have a remarkable calming influence on our resident short-fuse."
"It's a talent," Ororo laughed. She leaned close and pressed an affectionate kiss to the top of the professor's bald head. "See you when we get back, Charles. Tomorrow afternoon, I hope."
"Safe journey, Ororo."
She favored him with a loving smile and a wave as he turned his wheelchair and began moving away toward the exit...then she glanced at the Blackbird and smiled ruefully to herself. She could see Logan already in the cockpit of the jet, and as she watched he looked up at her with an expression that said quite clearly will-you-hurry-up?
"This should be interesting," she murmured softly. With a slight shrug she began to cross the gleaming floor of the hanger, following the steps of the others as she made her way quickly to the jet's waiting gangway.
She mounted the ramp quickly and dipped her head, ducking under the slight curve of the entrance hatch as she entered the dim interior of the Blackbird. It took only a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within...the interior of the jet was lit only by the small colored displays from the flight equipment and control panels in the cockpit. Ororo knew this plane almost as well as she knew her own bedroom, though...as soon as her eyes acclimated, she made out the distinctive silhouette of Logan, sitting in the pilot's seat with his hard face illumined by the lights of the flight instruments...as well as Remy and Rogue, sitting in the row of seats just behind the cockpit. Remy had already lit a cigarette, the glow from the burning tip a bright pinpoint in the cabin's shadows.
"You know you shouldn't be smokin' that, Remy," Rogue scolded...Remy muttered something in reply as Ororo moved past them, slipping delicately into the seat beside Logan and beginning to strap herself in with sure hands.
"What took you so long?" Logan asked gruffly, giving her a sideways glance as she shifted herself into a comfortable sitting position.
"I am sorry," Ororo replied, looking up at him with a quick smile. "Charles had a few parting words of wisdom."
"He wants to make sure you'll keep me in line."
"Something like that, yes." She looked mildly surprised. "How did you...?"
Logan laughed...and Ororo was pleased to hear his laugh sound more genuine than forced for once. "Oh, c'mon, darlin'," he snorted. "Why else would Charles suggest that you come? He knows damn well I can fly this thing without a co-pilot...he just wanted you along to keep an eye on me."
Ororo smiled, putting on her headset and adjusting it absently. "The professor seems to think I can keep you under control...for the most part."
His smile broadened, and he gave her a teasing, lecherous wink. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, beautiful."
"Oh, really?"
"A woman like you...tends to make a man lose control, not the other way around."
Ororo laughed again, but this time a warm blush crept into her cheeks. "Just start the plane, Logan...before..."
"Before what?"
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Before you find out just how well adamantium conducts lightning."
"Mmm, I love it when you talk dirty," Logan replied dryly. He cut his eyes toward her once more, grinning as he watched her stifle a giggle against the back of her hand, then he deftly flipped the series of switches that started the Blackbird's engines. They roared to life with sudden, efficient thunder, vibrating through the jet's steel and humming with power through their seats and the flight instruments beneath their fingers. Logan reached up and flipped another toggle, and above the steadily rising whine of the engines could be heard a loud, metallic thump, followed by the hydraulic hum of the hanger's roof parting into two massive sections and rolling back to frame the brilliant blue sky overhead.
"Ready?" he asked.
"As I will ever be," Ororo replied.
A groan came from the seats behind them. "Sacre bleu, will you hurry up?!" Remy snapped.
"What's the matter with you?" Ororo asked.
Another groan. "I hate flyin'..."
"Stuff it, Cajun," Logan replied amiably...and without another word, he switched the jet into hover mode, less than a second before Ororo lifted the landing gear. With an easy pull on the throttle, the jet shuddered and began to lift through the hanger doors and into the sky, her engines rising into a throbbing and utterly beautiful roar.
* * * * *
New York in the morning...when the sun is up at last and turning everything into a shiny, glittery muddle, and the heat hasn't had time yet to turn the sidewalks into a furnace...yes, only then is it almost a fairy tale place...if you're rich, that is, or in the know with people that are. They are the ones that sit in their air-conditioned high rises and hotel suites, safe behind double-paned glass as they sip cool, expensive drinks and watch the hustle of the sleepless city pass them by in the silence brought on by high places and selective hearing.
Rebecca Shaw thought these thoughts while sitting in exactly such a place, resting her chin on her knees as she looked out the picture window of her father's hotel suite. She was sitting on the couch before the window, her small stature making it impossible for her to look over the back of the couch and down to the street below, but she was able to look up at the sky, and the tallest of the buildings framing her limited view...and birds. Lazy, soundless birds, wheeling with uncanny grace on whatever currents and drafts they found there, high above the city where only the clouds and the wind were free to walk. Rebecca watched the birds circle and soar, and felt an inarticulate wave of something wash over her. One might call it desire...the desire to be free.
"Rebecca."
She looked up quickly, hastening to take her feet off the couch and bring her knees together in a properly lady-like position as her father came swiftly into the room. Jeremiah stopped just inside the door without looking at her, however, and Rebecca felt a brief surge of relief, watching him as he methodically fastened the cufflinks at his wrists, the starched white brilliance of his dress shirt nearly blinding her as the mid-morning sun glanced off his clothing.
"Are...are we going to church today, Daddy?" she asked hesitantly.
"No," Jeremiah replied...and Rebecca felt another, almost giddy sense of deliverance...followed closely by an overwhelming sense of guilt. "Someone needs to be here to greet the teachers coming from your school," Jeremiah continued, finishing the last cufflink before lifting his icy blue gaze to her face. "And I have a preparatory meeting before the conference this afternoon, so I will leave it to you to make sure our guests are comfortable."
"Me?"
"Yes," he snapped, not trying to disguise his impatience. "Professor Xavier arranged with the concierge last night for his teachers to make use of the landing pad on the roof of the hotel. You can meet them there."
Rebecca blinked, the color leaving her face rather rapidly. It wasn't that she wasn't excited about meeting her teachers...she was nearly ecstatic on that account, but the realization that her father wanted her to be responsible for meeting them made her feel sick. There were just too many ways she could mess this up. "Wh-what do you want me to do, once I meet them?" she asked timidly, her hands beginning to knot together in her lap.
"Before you meet them, I want to you to go down to the main desk and get their room keys," Jeremiah replied. "I've already arranged it with the concierge...he'll be expecting you. Then you are to see them to their rooms." He moved across the room to where his coat hung over the back of the desk chair, and he picked it up and slung it over his shoulder before giving her another hard look. "I know that you'll want to talk with them awhile...do what you want, but be dressed and ready in time for the conference. Do you understand?"
Rebecca nodded, swallowing hard with a mixture of fear and excitement. Jeremiah studied her face with narrowed eyes, as if he suspected her of being much too happy about the whole affair...but after a moment he released her from his gaze and nodded in return, striding quickly from the room without another word and letting the suite door shut heavily behind him.
The door was barely closed before Rebecca fairly leapt off the couch and raced for her room, sprinting through the connecting door with her dark hair flying behind her. She couldn't believe her luck...not only was she free of her father's disapproving face for at least the next three to four hours, but she was being allowed to meet with her new teachers without her father's oppressive presence nearby. It was like dying and going to heaven...or something awfully like it...although these thoughts were not really articulated in Rebecca's mind. All she knew was an indescribable relief, followed closely by something that tried to be shame and never quite made it. She was just too happy to let it intrude.
Rebecca stopped breathlessly before the ornate mirror hanging over the dresser, snatching up her hairbrush and yanking it through her shoulder-length, chestnut hair with a series of quick strokes...tidying her appearance as best she could, making sure her blouse was tucked in and the seams of her skirt were even. There...it would do, she supposed, studying the small, thin girl that stared back at her from the mirror.
More excited than she dared to admit, Rebecca snatched up the room keys from her dresser and bolted from the room, hurrying to the lobby as fast as he legs could carry her.
* * * * *
"That's where you want to land, Logan."
Only the smallest flicker in Logan's dark eyes registered that he had heard Ororo gentle direction...that, and the banking of the jet as he eased her slowly around into a smooth circle over the tower of the Imperial hotel. How the professor had ever secured permission for them to fly here, much less land on what was usually a helicopter pad for emergencies and dignitaries on the tower's flat roof, Ororo couldn't guess.
Behind them, Rogue had her face practically pressed against the glass as she watched Logan angling in for their descent. "Are you sure this is the right place?" she asked. "It looks awfully fancy."
"I'm sure," Logan said shortly. "Ready, 'Ro?"
"I am." Ororo watched as Logan righted the plane on its slow roll, then eased it forward until it was nearly level with the landing pad, after which Ororo flipped on the hover units and braced herself automatically for the slight thump that shook the plane when the auxiliary engines kicked in. It went like clockwork...the engines noise whined louder for the briefest of moments, then sank to a barely audible growl as the plane abruptly began to lower itself in a gradual vertical line.
"Landing gear?"
"Got it." She released the toggles that opened the wheel traps, and there was another, gentler thump as the wheels opened and dropped into place. The horizon rose steadily past the cockpit window, and after a seamlessly smooth descent, the Blackbird came to rest gently in the center of the landing pad, her engines rising again briefly then rumbling into silence as Logan switched the instrument panel into standby.
"Well," he muttered. "We're here."
"T'ank God," Remy groaned. "Get me de hell outta dis t'ing." He unstrapped himself from his seat and snatched up his bag from the floor.
"You still have to fly back in it tomorrow," Rogue said.
"Oui, but at least I'll have a night to recuperate," Remy replied. He stood up and squeezed past Rogue, slamming his hand against the trigger latch that opened the gangway. It began to hiss open with a hydraulic sigh.
"Somebody supposed to be meetin' us?" Logan asked, unstrapping himself as well.
"I do not know," Ororo replied. She had already removed her seat restraints and was turned sideways in her seat, stretching a little as she watched Rogue following Remy off the plane. "But I suppose we'll find our way with little trouble...and Dr. Shaw is expecting us, I believe."
"The only reason I asked," Logan said. "Is because there's a kid standing over there staring at us."
"There is?" Ororo turned her head to look out the cockpit window, her eyes following the line of Logan's sight curiously. There was a child standing there...or, at least, what appeared to be a child at first glance. It was a young girl, standing with her back to the door that led from the roof to the stairs, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched Rogue and Remy disembark the plane. Ororo was too far away to make out the girl's expression, but she seemed to be frozen on the spot anyway, her dark hair and the long skirt she wore ruffling gently in the strong wind at this height.
"Perhaps she is the welcoming committee," Ororo remarked lightly.
"Yeah, sure."
Ororo laughed and stood up, moving to retrieve her belongings from the rear of the cockpit where she had stowed them earlier. "Well, since no one else seems to be forthcoming, I suggest we go meet her," she called over her shoulder to Logan. "Coming?"
Logan studied the girl a moment longer, then nodded without a change in expression. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm coming."
* * * * *
Rebecca watched, her eyes as big as saucers as the hatch on the side of the black jet opened, a single walkway extending from that dark opening like a metallic black tongue. It clanged thinly on the roof's asphalt surface, seconds before the first passenger on the sleek plane began to stomp down the walkway with long, easy strides.
It was a man. He was tall and slender, with long legs and dark auburn hair that hung in his eyes and over the collar of his jacket in disheveled waves. The brown duster, of course, was an odd addition, considering how warm it was out here on the roof, but Rebecca liked the effect just the same. It made him look a little like a gunslinger at this distance, or like Clint Eastwood...all he needed was a flat-brimmed hat and a hip-holster to complete the picture, but a green canvas bag was slung across his back instead. Rebecca searched her mind quickly for the names of the teachers her father had told her were coming, and she decided that the man must be Mr. Logan.
Following swiftly on the young man's heels, a woman came walking down the ramp as well, the wind off the roof catching in her hair and blowing her curls behind her. The first thing Rebecca noticed was the bright streak of white in the front of her chestnut mane...how odd, she thought to herself. She looks too young to have white in her hair already. The second thing she noticed, however, was the thing that made her eyes goggle even more and a faint blush restore some color to her cheeks. The woman was wearing something black and skintight, every round curve of her hips and long, sleekly muscled legs flaunted for the whole world to see. Rebecca swallowed hard, a painful lump in her throat when she thought about what her father would have to say when he saw the woman's get-up. Ms. Munroe? she wondered.
Oh, no. They were coming toward her.
Well, don't just stand there, you moron, Rebecca scolded herself. Go greet them...but before she had the opportunity to pry herself from where she cowered by the door, two more people exited the plane, and Rebecca felt all her muscles stiffen up again in worried confusion. It was another man and woman, both tall, the man with a thick, untamable shock of black hair and the woman with a long ponytail of brilliant, blinding white...Rebecca's mind didn't allow her to register any other details, other than the fact that there were now four people coming down the gangway toward her, and her father had prepared her for only two, and was this even the right plane, and how was she going to avoid making a fool of herself and embarrassing her father...
"Uh, hello." The first man off the plane had almost reached her, and he stopped, smiling at her as he shifted his bag and let it drop to the roof's surface with a muffled thump. Rebecca's eyes darted to his face nervously...and after one good look at his face, she nearly swallowed her tongue. His eyes...the man's eyes! They were a dark crimson on black...devil's eyes...smiling at her from a face that was every bit as young and handsome as his eyes were terrifying. He brushed his hair casually out of those eyes, his smile faltering a little at Rebecca's look of shock. "Um...we're lookin' for a Dr. Jeremiah Shaw. You know where we can find him, petite?"
His accent was soft and beautiful, but extremely odd to Rebecca's ears...it sounded like a bizarre mix of French and deep South. She gaped a bit longer, then suddenly realized how stupid she must look...they were looking for her father. They were mutants, then! That would explain the eyes...Rebecca breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as her shoulders slumped from the sudden release of tension, a timid smile trembling on her face.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'm Rebecca Shaw, Dr. Shaw's daughter. H-He sent me to greet you."
The man's smile returned with renewed cheerfulness. "Oh! Dat's good, den...nice to meet you, Mam'selle Shaw," he said, holding out his hand to hers. She took it shyly, only to have her eyes widen again when he lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers with old-fashioned courtliness. "De name's Remy LeBeau...an' dis is Rogue," he added, indicating with a nod of his head the woman coming to stand beside him.
"Hello, sugah." Rogue was the lady with the white streak in her hair...Rebecca looked up at her, marveling at how pretty she was. Green eyes, framed with sooty black lashes, and skin like porcelain...Rogue smiled down at her and extended her hand as well, a hand encased in a tight glove made of what appeared to be black silk. Rebecca took the hand and shook it gamely, suddenly feeling about as attractive as a rolling pin next to this tousled beauty...
Vanity, her father's voice whispered in her head...
Rebecca felt a flush of shame again...which was quickly banished as the second woman came into sight behind Rogue and Mr. LeBeau. Rebecca felt her mouth drop open, but she was powerless to stop it...for an angel was walking toward her. That was the only explanation...no mere mortal could be that beautiful.
Tall...the woman was incredibly tall, probably close to six feet, with dark brown skin and white hair pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. Her face was impossibly lovely, with high cheekbones and soft, full lips...blue eyes, that focused now on Rebecca as the woman came closer, her every movement as graceful as wind on water as she approached...Rebecca found herself frozen again, pressed against the stairwell door at her back as the angel-woman smiled down at her with an expression that made Rebecca love her in an instant.
"Stormy," Mr. LeBeau was saying. "Dis is Rebecca Shaw...Dr. Shaw's daughter. 'Becca, dis is Ororo Munroe."
So that was Ms. Munroe...
"Hello, Rebecca," Ororo said, her voice low and sweetly husky. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"H-Hello," Rebecca said weakly.
"An' dis is Logan," Mr. LeBeau continued, gesturing toward the man who had left the plane with Ms. Munroe. Rebecca met Logan's eyes...and suddenly felt, for the first time since the plane landed, something like familiarity. It wasn't that Logan looked friendly or reassuring...he didn't. His face was hard despite its rugged handsomeness, his black eyes that looked out at her from beneath dark brows cold and devoid of even a vestige of warmth, and it was that very expression that made Rebecca feel slightly more at ease. It took her a second to figure out why that was, though...and then it came to her. Logan's expression reminded her of her father. Her stomach felt all crawly and twisty...
Then Logan smiled. A slightly twisted, cynical smile, true...but it dispelled the similarity with her father like the blowing out of a candle. Jeremiah never smiled, except for a rare phony one when he was with his congregation or his constituents. Logan's smile, for all its grimness, was a real smile nevertheless.
Rebecca relaxed again. "Hello, Mr. Logan," she said.
"Hey, kid," he replied gruffly, his voice every bit as deep and gravelly as she had expected. "And it's just Logan...leave off the Mister."
"Oh, I...okay." She gave him a tentative smile, he smiled back...and Rebecca decided that she liked him too.
"So, where's your dad, sugah?" Rogue asked.
"He had a meeting this morning, before the conference," Rebecca replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I've already gotten your keys from the desk downstairs, since Daddy wanted me to show you to your rooms, but..." She felt another flush staining her cheeks. "I was only expecting two of you, and..."
"Don't worry, kid," Logan said. "Professor Xavier already called ahead. You got the keys here?"
Rebecca nodded. She pulled an envelope from her skirt pocket and held it out to him, which he took gently. He ripped it open, then pulled out a handful of electronic card keys, fanning them like a poker hand. "Four keys, darlin'," he said. "Looks like we're taken care of, as far as the room are concerned."
"Lead the way, Rebecca," Ororo said.
"Um...yes. Okay," she stammered again, her smile flashing briefly, and she turned and opened the door to the stairwell. The rest of them filed in behind her, laughing and making all sorts of racket in the echoing well...Rebecca felt herself getting lighter and lighter of heart with every second she was with them. So careless...so carefree.
Are they all like this? Rebecca wondered, glancing back once or twice as they descended the stairs behind her. They seemed so exotic, their casualness absolutely intoxicating...as if having a mutation were nothing more troublesome than breathing. She reached the foot of the roof stairs and stopped, waiting as they caught up with her, then she started off again down the hall, not needing to go very far before she had reached the door of their suite.
"This is it," she said.
"Hey! We on de top floor? Cool," Remy said, dropping his bag again on the floor and leaning against the wall.
They watched as Logan moved to the door, slid one of the cards through the doorpad, and then twisted the handle open, the door opening onto a lavish sitting room just inside. Rebecca stood to the side, allowing them all to file inside the room, and feeling very reluctant to leave...but Ororo stopped as she passed her and touched her on one shoulder gently.
"Why don't you come in for awhile, Rebecca?" she asked. "We can talk a bit."
"Okay," Rebecca replied instantly, and she eagerly followed Ororo into the room, the door swinging shut behind her.
There were four doors leading off the sitting room, each one leading to a bedroom that shared a bathroom with the room directly beside it. Rogue and Remy immediately made a beeline for the rooms to the right, Rogue crowing excitedly over the balcony view on that side. Logan, however, didn't seem too interested at the moment...he flopped down heavily on the rose-patterned Queen Anne sofa and crossed his legs on top of the coffee table, leaving Rogue and Remy to start what sounded like muffled bickering as they both investigated the shared bathroom.
"Are they arguing already?" Ororo asked, lightly placing her suitcase on the floor behind the door.
"Probably," Logan replied. "Have a seat, kid," he said to Rebecca. He waited until she sat gingerly on the edge of a curve-backed chair near the sofa, then added, "I think the Cajun just figured out that he's gonna have to share a bathroom with Rogue if he wants that room."
"Why doesn't he share with you? That would make more sense..." Ororo said. "You men could sleep on one side, and Rogue and I on the other..."
"Apparently, the rooms over there have a balcony view. Didn't you hear them?" Logan replied, jerking his thumb toward the right-hand bedrooms. "You know how those two are."
Ororo sighed and sat down, turning her lovely smile on Rebecca. "Well, here we are," she said. "Are you excited about coming to the school, Rebecca?"
"Oh, yes ma'am," Rebecca replied instantly. "Although...well, you're not quite what I expected, I guess..."
Logan startled her by laughing. "What were you expectin'?"
She smiled timidly. "I thought you would be...well...not so happy, I guess." She looked from Logan to Ororo in wonder, then up at Remy as he came back into the room from the bedroom behind them. "You all seem so happy...like it doesn't bother you to be...to be...you know..."
"Mutants?" Logan asked dryly, cocking a curious eyebrow at her.
Rebecca blushed. "Yes, sir...mutants." She felt like she had just uttered a swear word.
"What's your mutation, chère?" Remy asked, coming around the back of the sofa and sitting down beside Logan. "Jus' curious...the professor didn't tell us."
"I..." Rebecca blushed more furiously, looking down at her hands squeezed together in her lap. She felt like she was being asked questions of a practically dirty nature...her father didn't like her talking about her mutation
(your sin)
with outsiders...but somehow, she found herself wanting to talk to these nice people...these people that were just like her. She wanted to find out what their mutations were...
"I can make plants move," she said softly.
"Come again?" Remy asked.
"I can make plants move," she repeated, looking up at them shyly. "I'm not sure how...I just can."
"Like telekinesis?" Ororo asked.
"What's that?"
"The ability to move t'ings wit' your mind," Remy told her. "Is dat what you do?"
"Sorta, but I can't move anything but plants...and I can make them do other stuff, too, like grow faster and get things for me..."
"Get things for you?" Ororo asked, leaning forward curiously. "Show us."
Rebecca looked around the room, but the only plant was a small potted fern on a wicker tripod, sitting in a shadowed corner between the television and where Logan sat on the end of the couch. "Well, that's the only one in here," she said, pointing. "And its too small to bring anything to me, so..."
She concentrated a little, letting her mind relax and slip inside the fern...linking with the love of green things and quiet and shadow and water...
The fern suddenly stirred, rustled...then one feathery frond reached out and curled about the remote control sitting on top of the television. Ororo and the others watched as the fern gently lifted the remote, passed it from frond to frond, then offered it almost politely to Logan...who, after a startled moment, grinned and took the remote from the fern with a quiet chuckle.
"Pretty neat, kid."
"That was wonderful, Rebecca!" Ororo said.
"Thank you," she replied...feeling warm right down to her toes.
* * * * *
The rest of the morning passed quickly, and by lunchtime Rebecca was thoroughly in love with all four of the strange, wonderful adults that had come from Westchester. They had all generously given Rebecca a taste of what their mutant powers were like...all except for Ororo, who had explained what her mutation entailed but gently refused to give a demonstration, since her powers tended to be slightly more unpredictable in nature. The one that had probably fascinated her the most, though, was Logan...who quite patiently unsheathed and retracted his claws over and over so Rebecca could watch his wounds heal with unabashed delight.
At noon, Rebecca had accompanied Remy and Rogue downstairs to the restaurant for lunch, and Logan had left quietly as well, apparently wanting to look the place over before they attended the conference and dinner that evening. Ororo had elected to take a nap...she had a feeling that the night would be a long one, and not possessing Logan's regenerative capabilities, she wanted to be sure that she was well-rested before she needed to get showered and dressed.
That had been close to five hours ago, however. Ororo stretched sleepily, rolled over on her side...and blinked as she caught sight of the clock on the bedside table, startled that she had slept so long. Her bedroom was dim and shadowy, the curtains still pulled shut as she had done when she initially came in for her nap, but the bathroom door was open and white light was spilling into the room. Logan was standing in front of the sink, his chin tilted slightly as he shaved.
"Hi," Ororo said, a trifle groggily.
Logan glanced at her with a brief smile. "Hey, darlin'. I was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up."
"I was not planning on sleeping so long," she replied, trying to smooth her mussed hair a little. "Why didn't you wake me?"
"I figured you needed the rest."
"And the others?"
He shaved another careful line, then rinsed the razor before answering. "Remy and Rogue have gone to dinner, if you can believe it...they didn't want to hang around here, since they ain't goin' to the conference. I'm not too sure about the kid."
"Did she leave?"
"I guess. I think she's gonna be at the dinner later, though." He picked up a towel and began to pat his face dry, turning and walking out of the light and into Ororo's room. "When you plannin' on gettin' ready?"
"Are you done in the bathroom?" Ororo asked with a smile.
"Yep, all yours," Logan replied. He sat down on the bed beside her, dropping the towel into his lap and rubbing his newly-shaved chin absently. He watched as Ororo stood up and went into the bathroom, unable to look away, even if he had wanted to, as she began to unbutton her blouse without bothering to shut the door.
"Have you met Dr. Shaw yet?" she asked, shrugging out of her blouse and folding it neatly before laying it on the back of the toilet seat.
"Not yet." Logan continued to watch her appreciatively...not really turned on (this was his best friend, after all), but still enjoying the view anyway. "I guess we'll meet him at the dinner."
Ororo reached behind her and unhooked the lacy white bra she was wearing, pulling it off and revealing her firm, lovely breasts without an ounce of self-consciousness. Logan took a deep breath...he had seen Ororo naked many times over the years, but it still was a sight worth having, every damn time.
"Don't mind me, by the way," Logan remarked dryly.
Ororo lifted an eyebrow as she unzipped her jeans and began to slip them down over her hips. "We have both seen each other unclothed before, Logan...I did not think it bothered you."
"Oh, believe me...it doesn't bother me a bit." He stood up, coming into the bathroom and passing behind her, only to pause on the other side before the adjoining door to his room.
Ororo took off her jeans, slipped out of her underwear as well...then stood before the mirror like a brown-skinned nymph. "It's not my fault that Western civilization has developed such hang-ups about the human body," she said airily, regarding Logan with an unflinching expression in the bathroom mirror.
"Nope, not your fault at all." He found himself trying to keep his eyes on hers...and not on the perfectly formed body standing right next to him.
"It's like Kurt..."
"What about Kurt?"
She picked up her brush and began working on her hair, still watching Logan in the mirror. "His vows of chastity."
"Oh. Those."
"It's silly..."
"It may be silly to you, darlin'," Logan said with a sly grin. "But trust me...if you stripped down like this in front of Kurt, you'd give him a fuckin' heart attack."
"And why is that?" she asked...surprising Logan a little with what sounded like a touch of anger. "Kurt is a dear, close friend...as are you, and you seem to be fine..."
"Yeah, I may be your friend, darlin', but that doesn't change the facts."
"What facts?"
He leaned close behind her, giving her a wicked grin in the mirror's reflection. "Well, the fact that you have, without a doubt, the finest ass I've ever seen." And with that, he swatted her on the behind.
"Ow!" Ororo gasped with indignation, whirling on him quickly...but Logan had already slipped away and was through the door into his room.
"Logan!"
"Better get dressed, beautiful," Logan said, the sound of his low laughter fading as the bathroom door closed behind him.
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