Hell is other people.
- Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980)
"Life began as the simplest of accidents. In the primordial ooze that covered the earth, it may have been only one pungent bubbling pool of it that had the specific ingredients that triggered the formation of one of the most important compounds to life kind. DeoxyriboNucleic Acid. It existed before life had begun. It was a chemical, merely a chemical that through a miracle became something more.
"That miracle was mutation.
"For some reason we may never understand, which scientists believe they are getting a grasp on now, something changed. In that pool of grunge and muck, amongst the acrid smell of volcanic expulsions, life was born through a change. It is ironic, isn't it, that man fears the one thing that brought him into being.
"Man fears many things, although it is seemingly the most powerful being on the face of the earth. Our faith in our mobility and ability to construct things is probably the only thing that keeps us from proving whether other animals are indeed intelligent enough to rival us. Such a possibility is a terrible thing to us. We make animals and the world they live in our slaves. Everything was constructed, everything tamed, everything reined and controlled for our own comfort, our own peace of mind, our own survival.
"And again, like that calm pool... something changed. And again... it was mutation.
"Mutation is a word that is thrown about, and one has to wonder whether any of the media that use it, the scientists, if anyone, understands the true nature of evolution.
"Evolution is not a one-generation event, but something that is borne through years and years of slow, gradual change. This reason alone is why so many were shocked by the recent cases of 'mutated' human beings. They displayed traits often referred to as 'powers' that seemed out of the blue, impossible to occur. I don't believe this is something that could happen in such a way. My dear reader, I suggest that perhaps this is the first noticeable sign of change in a shift that has been occurring for possibly thousands of years.
"How long has mankind been living differently from animal kind? How long has he not needed the spectacular musculature that the Orang Utan possesses, or the ragged teeth of the canine? Indeed, in many examples of evolutionary paths, a misused well of energy and growth is put to different use. When the penguin no longer wanted to fly, evolution set to fattening it up, and sleeking it down. And upon losing its flight, it earned fins to swim.
"So may man have, in giving up a more active lifestyle, inherited a more cerebral one? How diverse is man right now... and how more diverse shall he become? Perhaps we all contain the critical genome that makes one a 'Mutant.' Maybe we were lucky in the moment of conception, lucky enough to not have that genome triggered. Or possibly we are all made of exactly the same stuff as Homo Superior. Maybe we ourselves *are* Homo Superior, and like the elephants species with too much fur, or a short trunk or the wrong sized ears, our kind shall breed into something new, rather than die out, in a fate similar to that of the Neanderthal men of long ago.
"How many steps away are any of us to the point where we are no longer Homo Sapiens, and become Homo Superior? Perhaps our answer lies not in highlighting the differences of 'sapiens' and 'superiors'...
"But in looking into our similarities," finished Logan, letting the newspaper fall between his fingers. He glanced to the girl sitting cross legged on the bed in the centre of the room, scribbling down in a booklet, "So that was ... 'From Sapien to Superior', by Senator Kelly. Miraculous turn around." He dropped the paper on the bed, shaking his head.
The girl tipped her head aside, looking to the headlining article in the Editorial of the paper that lay exposed on the bed. She frowned at it. "People have no idea," she said softly, "That he's gone. You'd think they could tell or somethin'."
Wolverine looked back at her, a steady firmness in his lips, "People only see what they want to see."
The girl rolled her eyes and sighed, "Yeah maybe."
He couldn't help but smile a little. She had that effect on him, making him smile when he was supposed to be a tough mother on an (often-borrowed) motorcycle. It was rather embarrassing, really. He didn't even realise until too late that this routine had begun. She'd sat in his room doing homework while he was gone, because it was the only quiet place where she could be alone. The dormitories were fit to burst with other kids. Somehow he knew why she occasionally chose not to be amongst them.
Kid. She didn't look like a kid. In those dark eyes resounded a soul that had a pain that echoed within him. He could see in her eyes a desperate longing. It killed him to see that in her. He understood it, although why so well, he wasn't sure. He felt like a miserable bastard however, being the inverted man. She ached for contact so badly it broke her soul. And he, with his rugged exterior and gruff nature, actively shunned it. He didn't want it; she couldn't have it.
Ah crap, Logan, he thought, the world just sucks.
His melancholy haze lifted as he glanced up, catching her repositioning herself onto her stomach, her legs free to swing back and forth in the air behind her, the pen she was using wedged in her teeth like a cigar. He frowned with a smile.
"Rogue... what are you doing?"
She blinked at him, smiling incredulously, "Bein' girly."
"Oh," he shrugged and nodded, "Fair enough."
It was a silent shock to walk into his room after his sabbatical at the abandoned military base to find the young girl settled at his desk, quietly working away. Even more disturbing was the warm rush of relief and affection that went through him as he realised whom it was. That cherubic face would nudge a smile from him again, and he felt like hiding and berating himself in the Danger Room for a while (oh how he adored the Danger Room). Of course, he just smiled and said 'Hi honey, I'm home', and disturbed himself even more in how nice it felt saying that. Rogue had turned, grin lighting up her face and she ran to him, hugging him tightly.
"Logan!" she cried, "How was it? Did you learn anythin'? Cyclops is so gonna kill you for takin' his bike!"
He gave a hint of a smile and lifted his hands up to calm the babbling girl, "It sucked, I learnt jack, and Cyclops can kiss my ass for all I care," he said.
She rolled her eyes, sinking down onto the bed, "It's been so borin' without you here."
"Yeah," he said, rather as a statement that a question, "Um - why are you in here?"
Uncertainty splashed onto her face and she glanced around herself, "Oh shoot, I hope you don't mind... it's just the study hall is always so full and everyone's just bein' loud annoyin' jerks in the dorm all the time-"
He smiled again, throwing his leather jacket down onto the bed beside her, "It's okay."
That had been the beginning of it. Since that day she took the liberty of taking solace in his room every afternoon to do her homework. He'd barely noticed it as a beginning, but as time went on its significance grew. This girl was growing on him more than she already had. And seeing as that was enough to have him risk his neck for her repeatedly, this 'more'ness was damn nigh worrying. He twitched, looking to her scratching away with a pen at her notebook. Curiosity niggled within him.
"What are you writing?"
She glanced up, fear suddenly in her eyes, "Um... nothin' it's just- poem for school."
Poetry. He hated the stuff. He angled his head to look at the words, but shaking gloved hands pulled the booklet away, a blush rising in her cheeks. Part of him felt a slow embarrassment, realising it probably had something to do with him. Another part that rebelled increased his heart rate, made him feel a little silly.
"You don't have to show it to me if you don't want to," he drawled, shrugging and looking to the wall across from him, "It's up to you."
Her eyes widened a little, and she glanced aside, dipping her head a little in embarrassment. She looked to her book that was cradled against her chest.
"I just - I'm still workin' on it... I'm not very good with words."
He nodded, pursing his lips thinly, "Has it got Latin in it?"
She glared at him, "Huh?"
"Some poets, they put Latin in their stuff," he said, leaning to her just slightly, "So they feel better about themselves cause they think Latin is something special and hifalutin'."
Her face fell, shoulders shrugging, her lips shuddering as she said, "It has Latin in it."
He gave a sidewards twitch of his head. Damn it all he felt like a real asshole now, "Latin is okay."
"Yeah well..." she looked away, blushing.
He gave a slight smile, "You going to read it to me or not?"
She smiled with that disbelief in her eyes, "You wanna hear it?"
"As long as it isn't mushy stuff," he said, propping his arms on firmly set apart legs, his arms rippling; exposed from the simple grey t-shirt he wore. He felt a slight hotness run over him as Rogue briefly glanced at them, her eyes fixed on his hands running over each other, rubbing the knuckles. He did that sometimes. They itched, as scarred skin was wont to do.
"Um," she blinked, looking down, "It's um... the title is Latin... I call it - Noli Me Tangere."
The words struck him. Touch me not...
She cleared her throat, tilting her head and pulling a lock of platinum hair behind her ear, "Um... Noli Me Tangere…"
Alone in my ability,
Yearning in my heart.
Lost all my faith in things.
Few knew or understood.
Father cries for nine one one.
Mother wails for calm.
I'm the one there shaking.
The boy the one there nearly gone.
All I see are the footfalls I make.
The damning sound of heel on ground.
And the world moved me along, drifting and
shattering, soft and cold.
"He came and threw back the isolation," she gave a slow blink, her voice wavering slightly as her hands shook.
Destroyed the fear with a withered smile.
All along my mind knows, though...
Noli Me Tangere, my friend,
Noli Me Tangere.
He couldn't say anything. Obviously the poem was... well amazing. It hit him like one of Storm's light jolts, and he struggled to keep his hands from shaking at the eloquent words.
"You wrote that..." he breathed softly.
Rogue blushed and shrugged, doodling on the edge of the pad, "I like English studies."
"I'll bet," he said, "That last bit-"
She looked away, her hand covering her face idly, "Yes."
He closed his mouth, the words he was about to utter dying there. All that he could feel was a growing swell of - well the only way he could describe it was the opposite of heartbreak. His heart, in pieces for so many years, had shifted a little closer to becoming whole again. She'd written that last bit about him?
"So, did it suck?"
He looked up at her from his hands, shock on his features, "No, not at all. I was just thinking - it was um - it was good."
"Oh," she nodded, pulling closed the book, "Good."
He nodded back at her, pursing his lips idly as his hazel eyes glanced around the room. From the corner of them, he could see her gather pens and pencils off his bedspread and into her pencil case. He tried to pretend that he wasn't watching her young, slowly curving body rise up off of the bed with the bounce of confidence he suddenly realised was delightful to encourage in her. However, closing his legs slightly and rolling his lips, it was clear to him that no matter how mutated he was, he was still a slave to his hormones. He looked to her as she pulled her bag onto her shoulder, a short smile on her face.
"I better go, Jubilee is expecting me at the workout area."
Logan frowned, "Who?"
Rogue moved from foot to foot with a small frown of her own, "You know, Jubilee... she's in the same class as me." Logan's face was blank. "Tch! Never mind," she said, her accent drawling, "She's really weird, I like her. Has a penchant for blowin' shit up, you'd like her too."
Logan blinked at her, "What?"
"Stuff, I meant stuff," blushed the young girl, "It's all your fault you know! Ever since Ah sucked you dry I been swearin' like a sailor. Even if Jean thinks it's all worn off. Ah think I jus' learned to control it some. Anyway - what was I sayin'?"
Logan let a smile tinge his eyes but not shift his mouth, "Jubilee."
"Oh yeah... I think Bobby has a serious crush on her," Rogue mumbled, glancing out the window. Logan now smiled freely.
"I thought he had a crush on you."
Rogue rolled her eyes, "So did I. Oh well, I better go."
As she strode to the door, her gloved hand grabbed his and squeezed, a sweet smile on her features, "See ya round, Logan."
"Later," he called back at her as she disappeared out the door. He sighed, lying back on his bed. His stomach yawned a little.
His bed smelt of the strong scent of girl's deodorant and strawberries. Such a power in her movements, such energy in her gaze. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Get real Logan, he thought, she's probably young enough to be your daughter. His soul had always seemed to slip, slide and stagger wildly, his heart raging with anger at what he was, at what he should have been. Suddenly, like the calming hand of a matriarch against the edge of a rocking cradle, she calmed him. All it took was a wide look of her dark eyes, an upward twitch of her cupid-bow lips.
They probably tasted of strawberries too.
Just as she had predicted, the teenager was pissed. She clutched her notebook to her chest, her brows tilting up in contrition. The Eurasian simply shook her head, her short cropped hair bouncing a little as she did so, the thick smoky-rimmed sunglasses on her face shielding the large brown eyes that she knew to sweep up attractively. The full lips, gleaming with fruit-scented lip-gloss, twisted, a dark brow rising.
"Where the hell where you? No- no wait," A derisive grin grew on the young woman, "Havin' some quality time with the Wolfman."
Rogue frowned, "His name is Wolverine - wolverines aren't dogs at all."
"Sure, they're weasels," snickered Jubilee, shifting in a bright yellow fuzzy jacket, "You're late, and we're never going to get time on the treadmills now. No playing 'Romy and Michelle' today."
Rogue rolled her eyes, smiling, "Well that's okay."
"No way," said Jubilee, pulling Rogue along, "If Crysta hogs that machine one more time I'm going to zap her ass so hard she'll be spitting sparklies for a week."
Rogue sniggered, "You're nuts."
"Thanks!"
Jean Grey sighed at the wall of televisions, shaking her head darkly. Sometimes she hated this job, watching the television stations to keep a tab on the events in the city with Professor Xavier by her side. Not that she minded time with Xavier (that was always beneficial); she just hated the level of journalism that seemed to exist. Sensationalist in nature, the reporters were sniveling and like vultures wheeling arcs in the air, just waiting for the next big bang to happen. It made her sick. What made her even sicker was that lately, more and more, the Mutants were that very next big bang. She'd seen her face on television a few times now, and not for her doctoral efforts.
Today, the scream of fear and object of many flashy clip-art images pasted behind dour looking scientists, was the recent 'Genome Race.' Yes... the tempest of wildly clinking test-tubes and number-crunching computers easily out-did the almost archaic mechanical efforts that men put forward to send themselves to the moon. This... this was far more dangerous than anything that could have possibly have come of the Space Race. A dull looking sheep was often flashed upon the screen, and it stirred worry in Jean's stomach.
A man on the screen excitedly (but also with a tint of menace) blathered on about how the little kinks that had occurred in the first ever cloning of a mammal, (like premature aging and decaying systems) had finally been ironed out. There was no holding back now, as it seemed the science of cloning had gotten to its feet. With the specialists of the world in the final stages of mapping the human genome (with much rushing and competition, thus its status as a race), apparently the newscaster decided that this meant certain disaster. Jean wished that she could, with all certainty and security, disagree.
With a cold clench of anxiety in her throat, she knew that in all honesty - she could not.
Turning from the screens, she muted their volumes with a mental nudge whilst walking over to her now cold coffee and taking a swift sip. "There is such a thing as too much television, Professor..."
Professor Xavier sat at the briefing table; hands folded together, lips drawn in a line. He had been watching the news with her, and the feathery touch of his mind at hers told him all he needed to know of her concerns.
He smiled, "Perhaps I should just go spend some time in Cerebro..."
"I think that'd be preferable. My eyes are turning to squares."
The professor wheeled himself over to his own coffee, taking a sip. "I've only had the younger students today - tell me - how is Jubilee fairing?"
Aaah... Jubilee. She'd just had her 18th birthday and had gotten herself totally smashed beyond reproach on vodka. Lord knows *where* she got it from, but then again the girl had lived in the muck of the alleys surrounding the city malls, and had supported herself via the art of shoplifting. She could barely be surprised if the girl had lifted it from the school's well-stocked alcohol cabinet.
Jean Grey shrugged, "Well, I think she regrets last weekend... I hope. Somehow I think it'll just wear off as she forgets about it and she'll be smuggling herself to Lily's Tavern on a regular basis."
"Hmmm." Xavier placed down his mug, worry etched in his brow, "She is essentially a responsible young woman, she just has a need to assert her own independence. It's something she's nurtured, it's kept her alive and it makes her who she is."
Jean sighed again, weariness splashed on her elegant high-boned features, "I know, I know. I swear, that girl has given me more grey hairs than I care to think about, and I have three long years to go."
Xavier gave a twitch of a smile, "Now you know how I felt, looking over you and Scott those years ago."
This caused Jean to smile, nodding, "Point taken."
"Is Logan adjusting to his new duties well enough?"
Jean rolled her eyes, "Yeah, but... oh man, he and Scott. I'm so sick of seeing those two prance about like two prize bulls on show..."
Xavier frowned, "Really? I hadn't sensed anything too adrift in him."
Jean gave a light snort, "Are you kidding? I'm worried there's gonna be bloodshed the next time!"
Xavier just smiled knowingly, "Perhaps you're just mistaking boyish banter for something more serious?"
Jean sighed, hanging her head back wearily. "Maybe... All I know is that it's driving me insane!"
Professor Xavier glanced to the doorway, his face looking suddenly worried. Jean knew what this meant, someone was coming, and they weren't happy at all. She turned to the door just in time to see it swing open wildly, the face of her lover, Scott, wildly concerned.
"The news - look," he said, racing in and over to a television screen, flicking the channel and turning the volume up. Jean's heart seized, and she could see Xavier's face grow hard as the events on the television flashed before them. The high-grade military installation that guarded Magneto whirled on the screen, shadows of other helicopters buzzing over the scene like bees around a hive, the little figures on the ground racing about the place, blasting open walls, ripping apart bodies and dominating any battle that presented itself. Mutants, about ten of them, swarmed the complex.
"Cyclops - gather a team. Take Wolverine, Storm and Jean."
Cyclops nodded, "Yes sir. Uh, that new guy that turned up about a month ago, the hairy brainiac-"
Jean frowned, "Beast?"
"Yeah," said Scott, "He's pretty strong, and he's old enough-"
"Yes, take him too," said Xavier. "Take care."
"We always do," Jean smiled grimly as Scott nodded determinedly, charging out the door.
"Watch Wolverine," he said, "You know his rages, and I don't think he'll be too content controlling them if you have to face Magneto."
"Scott'll have him on a leash!" called back Jean from the hallway.
Xavier cocked a brow. He knew that Wolverine would just rip it off and spit in Scott's face. Xavier knew all too well the effect the encounter with Magneto had had on young Logan. However old Logan's body was, his mind felt strangely young to Xavier, and he knew this also frustrated Logan. Here was a man who looked as a man, talked as a man, yet he had barely a grasp of life to fuel him. To compound this, the control he had over his own behaviours was shaky at best. His relationship with Rogue had quite a positive effect on him, but due to the troubles with Magneto, it had also left him deep scars. He could sense a lot of guilt and blame that Logan directed on himself. Indeed, it seemed to be a life goal of Logan that Rogue came to no harm. Xavier knew too well that Magneto had seen Logan's devotion, had toyed with it, thrown it to the winds and shown that against a man of magnetism, a man of metal was useless. The effects of this on Logan's mind were rather worrying.
Xavier was sure that's why the young man had been absent in Alkali for so long.
The Professor rubbed his chin, feeling for Wolverine in the building. He felt the concentration that the burly man often let envelope him during a stiff workout, but there was something else, something battling within him. Arousal? The school was full of girls of different ages, and a few rather attractive young women. Who could he be- it suddenly became clear. Ah... thus the battling. He couldn't help but be a little relieved when the arousal was quickly laid to rest - Cyclops had reached him, to take him on the mission.
He would have to have a talk to Wolverine later. Very carefully, very tactfully.
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Story Notes:
This is beta read, but not to the fullest extent that it can be. Some comma and semi-colon confusion occurs. Does that really bother you? I figure it's only fan-fic, and I have a comic to ink so I don't have the energy to break my back over this thing. But I did get rid of the spelling mistakes and the grammar mistakes. Most of them anyways :) Very big thank you to my Betas - JennyEdu, Jennifer Hallmark, Shaz Nolan, and I swear there must be someone else. I can't remember right now. E-mail me, smack me up the side of the head and I'll rectify it in the second chapter posting. Love ya's alls mate! Oh - and I know some of you may have read this part, but I'm releasing a chapter a day. Unless you want more, that is ;) Dedicated to the WRGrrls. You've been around for over a year, and the fandom is still going. That's majorly cool. Without your support, your enthusiasm and love, I'd be nowhere. This tenacity and companionship has helped me improve the crafts that I want to take into a career. For that, I thank you and love you always. Thank you girls.