Poison (2 of ?)
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Shelly Hanson, former graduate of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youth and currently a freshly-recruited covert operative for the Brotherhood, snapped one hair from her long blonde braid and tied it deftly around the leg of the huge wooden desk. Her audio-cellular mutation allowed her to hear anything within a few feet of her own body’s cells, and the single hair she cunningly hid would serve as a remote listening device, requiring her only to concentrate on it at any time and at a considerable distance. She stepped quickly away from the desk’s edge, adjusted her skirt and sat back comfortably in the smaller chair, waiting for Storm to return to the office. It was only a few moments until Shelly heard the door open.
“Sorry, Shelly - that was a personal call and I shouldn’t have let it interfere with our interview, but it was important. Things have been crazy around here lately. My apologies.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. I know the Professor’s death has caused a tremendous upheaval in the school. That’s why I want to come back and help.” Shelly watched as Storm re-seated herself behind the huge desk, then flashed her best Texas beauty queen smile and continued in her trained sincere voice, “ I know I can help. My degrees and certification in math and early education should come in handy since the students seem to be getting younger all the time.”
Storm leaned back in her chair and nodded her agreement. “It does seem that way. When I first came here, there was no one under fourteen, though now we have children as young as eight who are manifesting. Early education is becoming a definite need here, and it will be a mercifully small class at this point. Let me go over the student roles and see exactly how many kids we’ve got in that age group, and I’ll make the decision whether we need you teaching regular classes at that level, or if we’ll be further ahead by developing a mentoring program. You can move in tomorrow on the teacher’s third floor. Thanks again for coming to help, Shelly, and it’s so good to see you again.”
Ororo stood and hugged the younger woman gratefully before walking her out, then returned to the daily work of running the school.
News of Charles Xavier’s death had spread like wildfire through the alumni of the school. Within a week, Ororo had received numerous offers of assistance with the job of finding full-time teachers, handling classes and determining curriculum, finding substitute teachers, all from mutant kids who had been rescued to the school. Graduates from the past five years came out of the woodwork with offers of assistance to keep the school open and working. Ororo smiled at the stacks of letters, faxes, e-mail printouts, and applications that lay on the desk before her. She couldn’t adjust to calling it ‘her’ desk yet. It was still Charles’ desk, and would be for a long time. She would simply use it to help her adjust to running the school, sitting behind it’s highly polished mahogany expanse to remind herself that her responsibilities were different now, more demanding, more people’s lives and well-being at risk, and yet she felt at peace with the change. The school would continue. It had to; she had to make it work.
A knock on the open door frame brought Storm’s head up. Logan leaned against the door frame with arms crossed over his broad chest, a crooked half-smile trying to form on his lips.
“You look like a kid at the grown-up’s table,” he grinned impishly and raised both hands in mock surrender before she could form a response. “Don’t take that as an insult, ‘cause it wasn’t meant as one. It’s just a damned big desk.”
“It’s a damned big job,” Ororo smiled at Logan and waved her hand at a chair in front of the desk. “Have a seat. How can I help you today?”
“You can fire my ass and throw me the hell out of here, for starters. Then I’ll have to leave and I won’t feel so bad about it.”
Ororo sat stiffly for a moment, a look of stark concern on her face. “Please tell me you aren’t leaving now. Logan, I need you here. This school needs you, the kids need you, the team...”
He cut her off. “Relax - I’m just jerkin’ your chain. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just havin’ a fit of wanderlust, that’s all. I’m still not used to stayin’ put this long.” He slouched back in the chair and stretched his legs out casually. “I’m in for the long run, you know that. Just don’t pull the reins too tight, or I’ll balk. You picked out any new teachers yet?” His eyes grazed the top of the desk.
Ororo handed a few applications to Logan. “You just missed meeting one. Shelly Hanson, a graduate and former student of mine is moving in tomorrow. There are several other possibilities, mostly graduated students who either have experienced problems finding teaching positions because of being mutants, or they just happen to be between positions and are willing to come back here and help out.”
“You know any more of ‘em personally?” Logan shuffled through the papers distractedly.
“Three. They were all my students when I started teaching here, and I trust them. I’ve already set up interviews with them, and with two or three others. Charles left this place in a very secure and financially lucrative position. Everything’s put into trusts with a string of beneficiaries, since our survival rate among the X-Men is pretty sketchy at best.” Logan looked her in the eyes as her voice cracked on the last words. She sat in silence.
“You mean to say, he made sure our asses were covered, that the school’s on a solid foundation, the money’s not gonna go away, and we’re basically fine unless we have to kill all the lawyers?”
That pithy observation brought a small laugh from Storm. “That is succinct and accurate. We’re okay. The school’s okay. The money won’t run out, and we can hire more teachers. There’s even a string of financial supports to keep the X-Men operating. It’s a surprisingly intricate financial network the Professor had constructed for us, meaning both the school and the underground. The actual lack of X-Men, however, may prove to be our biggest problem if we continue helping mutants, especially kids. And personally, I cannot see us stopping that, can you?”
Logan pondered in silence for a while before responding. “Rogue and Ice Man are training hard. The Drake kid is getting better every day. He may be the walking definition of ‘nerd,’ but he’s got focus. He’s not that formidable in a knock-down drag-out ‘cause he’s small, wiry, yeah... but his use of his mutation is getting more creative all the time. He’s more than ready to take on the job, wear the uniform full time if he wants. Rogue is another matter entirely.”
“You mean, since she took the cure?” Ororo fought to keep her voice neutral, even though she knew Logan would smell her tension from across the room.
“Yeah.... it changed a lot of things.” He drawled the words distractedly, then continued in a matter-of-fact tone. “As a fighter, she’s acceptable. Not great, just acceptable. Not being able to drain someone on a touch makes her more vulnerable, but I gotta admit she’s working hard to get tougher and faster. It seems like the effort she was putting into trying to control her mutation with the Professor’s help, she’s now focusing on fighting skills. The times I’ve teamed her and Drake against each other in sparring matches, she’s apt to take his head off. I thought once she made the choice and took the cure, she’d lighten up. If anything, she’s more of a hard-ass than before. He holds back with her, but she’s unloading all chambers on him. It don’t figure.... I know something’s goin’ on with her, but she’s not talkin’ to me much right now. I’m gonna have to find out what’s wrong with her.”
“If she’ll open up to anyone, it’ll be you, Logan. See what you can learn, since Rogue’s been distant with me lately, too. She needs someone to talk to about everything that’s going on with her. What about Kitty? How’s she doing in training?”
“She’s like trying to stuff a snake up a garden hose - turn your head once and she’s gone. I don’t trust her instincts yet as far as teamwork goes, but when it comes to using her mutation, she’s wicked. She’s a loner. She thinks fast, she’s unpredictable, and that’s all good. But when it comes to the basics of teamwork, she’s not proving herself as reliable yet, even though she does take orders well. Still, she’s proven herself enough to start her on some more missions, teamwork practice, but keep it low key. Piotr, however, is ready to rock and roll. We have to work on some of the techno-crap, like handling the equipment in the ‘Bird, navigational gadgetry... but when it comes to hard-core action, the Tin Man’s got his shit together.”
Storm crinkled her eyes and smiled at Logan’s colorful descriptions of the young X-Men. He might never lose his hard-edged attitude or his rough language, but he would make a team out of the green students who’d seen too much, too young. She would handle the school and Logan would handle the X-Men’s underground facility. Somewhere in the middle, they would all make it work.
In the parking lot, Shelly Hanson mentally ticked off everything she had just overheard, made a few cryptic scribbles on a notepad, stuffed it into the console of her car, checked her make-up and drove away.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A new teacher arrives, while Logan assesses the junior X-Men