Logan was quietly surprised when he figured out how to hook the laptop up with a minimum of fuss. Although there was a brief moment when a cable of some sort had become hopelessly tangled up in another and he was two seconds away from slicing them apart. He didn’t need Wolverine to tell him that his impatience stemmed from worry about Rogue and an odd mix of fear and anticipation over what Hank and the professor might be able to tell him about the recent development with his eyes and the remapped territory in his mind. But that didn’t stop Wolverine.
You’re bein’ a pansy, Wolverine growled succinctly at the tail end of their conversation.
Logan snarled in response and flipped the laptop open. He started it up using the password Xavier had given him and then sat in an awkward hunch with the computer balanced on his knees as the screen flashed to life. Scowling at the icons on the desktop, he slid a glance over at Rogue and, with a grunt, set the laptop on the kitchen table and slid it toward her. She spared him a short, curious glance, and then shrugged. She leaned forward and with a series of rapid finger movements had a window opening on the screen. Logan immediately recognized the professor’s office and heard Hank’s voice, although it sounded a bit tinny. Suddenly, the view pivoted dizzyingly and the two men became visible.
“What’s wrong?” Rogue asked immediately. Logan looked at her sharply and then focused his attention on the screen again. He hadn’t noticed anything odd about the professor or Hank, but scrutinizing them now, he picked up on the tension at the corners of Xavier’s mouth and the slight beetling of fur on Hank’s forehead.
Why didn’t I notice that sooner? he wondered.
Wolverine grunted in irritation. Too used to relyin’ on people’s scent to tell us when they’re anxious, I guess.
The speakers carried the sound of Xavier clearing his throat. On the screen, he seemed to hesitate and then gave a half shrug. “More of the same.”
“Meanin’?” Rogue demanded.
The professor and Hank exchanged a long look and Logan knew that they were telepathically discussing how much to reveal. Evidently, Rogue knew as well.
“Cut the shit,” she demanded harshly, surprising the two men at the mansion but not Logan with her tone.
Xavier cleared his throat again. “Very well. Monique has become the official spokesperson for an organization advocating mutant registration.”
“That’s no surprise. What’s the big deal?”
“It’s a government funded organization dedicated to the development of policies and procedures to ensure homeland security.”
“Oh.” Rogue took a moment to digest the information. “By what means?”
“Officially,” Hank said, “by non-violent means. Unofficially, by whatever means necessary.”
Logan spoke for the first time. “And what’s that mean in this situation?”
“Right now, it means procuring private medical records on the basis that blood work or tissue samples may reveal that an individual constitutes a threat to national security. It’s being termed a ‘voluntary’ surrender of data, but reports are coming in that medical staff who resist – and even security guards at warehouses where such information is stored – are being subdued by paramilitary forces.”
Familiar with such scenarios, Logan asked suspiciously, “Subdued how?”
“Smoke bombs, tear gas, stun guns. There have been no deaths so far, and only minor injuries.”
“How are they able to do that?” Rogue asked angrily. “It’s unconstitutional.”
Hank and the professor exchanged another look. “There are a number of laws currently in place,” Xavier explained slowly, “that allow for the seizure of private property and information when national security is threatened.”
“You mean the Patriot Act,” Logan said flatly.
“No,” the professor continued, still speaking carefully, “not exactly. The Patriot Act specifically cites the obstruction of terrorism as its goal. Nobody has called the mutant crisis,” Xavier’s mouth briefly quirked in distaste over the term, “terrorism. Yet. But the general public and government consensus is that mutant abilities do in fact constitute a threat to American life and livelihood. The laws allowing the recent activity are being grouped under the name ‘The Good Citizen Agreement.’”
“That’s bullshit,” Rogue burst out. “There’s no way they could have gotten laws in place so quickly.”
“That’s where we’re having difficulty fighting it,” Hank cut in. “Charles said there are a number of laws currently in place. These are old laws given a modern twist to fit the current situation. And it’s actually much harder to repeal a law than it is to get one passed.”
“What laws, exactly, are we talkin’ ‘bout here?”
“Eugenics laws,” Hank said softly.
And damned if he could prevent it, Logan felt his mouth drop open slightly.
“What the hell’s that?” Rogue demanded, her head swiveling to look at each man in turn. The professor and Hank wore identical grim looks, their lips pressed tightly together as though they were cages designed to prevent something particularly vile and dangerous from escaping. “Logan?” she asked, the voice in her head providing her enough information on each man’s body language to know that he was the only one who would answer.
“Eugenics is basically…” Logan exhaled forcefully. “It’s basically selective breeding.”
“What?” Rogue breathed.
Logan ignored the startled looks on the other men’s faces – apparently they hadn’t expected him to know the term – and turned to Rogue.
“In the early 1900s, a number of states passed sterilization laws to prevent passing on undesirable traits to future generations. Insanity, violent tendencies, sexual promiscuity, alcoholism.” Logan shrugged. “You name it. ‘Undesirable’ could mean pretty much whatever they wanted it to. Hitler actually used the American eugenics movement as support for ethnic cleansing.”
“An’…an’ they’re bringin’ those laws back?”
“They never went away,” Hank cut in. “Several of them were modified throughout the years, but they weren’t repealed. Like I said earlier, that’s harder to do than you would expect.”
“It’s still unconstitutional,” Rogue maintained.
“In its very essence, yes, you are correct, Rogue. But the wording of these laws is incredibly careful and from an objective, legal examination, they cannot be proven unconstitutional.”
Rogue opened and closed her mouth several times, grasping futilely at arguments hovering just out of reach. “What do we do?” she finally managed.
“We’re still working on that,” Xavier said, his tone obviously meant to be soothing, but both Rogue and Logan saw the way the grooves bracketing his mouth deepened. “For the moment, though, let us deal with more immediate concerns. Logan? You had some questions for Hank?”
Without waiting for Logan to answer, Hank started speaking. “Yes, of course. I wouldn’t be concerned about your eyes, Logan. It’s a fairly common development with feral mutations, although the changes do tend to take place at puberty – when most mutations manifest. However, as is always the case with you, your physiology makes it difficult at best to determine a normal developmental timeline or even a metabolic baseline.”
“What’s my metabolism got to do with my eyes?”
“I think you’re misunderstanding my use of the word. Too many people understand metabolism to mean anything related to digestion and the burning of fat and calories,” Hank said dryly. “It is, in actuality, the life-sustaining functions of an organism. In any case, while I would normally suggest extensive medical testing to rule out disease or injury as the cause of a rapid change in eye color, I highly doubt that is necessary with you.” If possible, Hank’s tone became drier as he continued. “So, if the change in eye color is not related to your particular mutation, that leaves stress as the most likely explanation.”
“Stress?” Logan echoed disbelievingly.
Hank nodded. “Stress can do all sorts of things to the body. Even yours.”
Logan snorted and crossed his arms. “So what’s your take on my other situation?”
“Ahem,” Hank cleared his throat with a loose fist held in front of his mouth. “I believe I will leave that matter to Charles.”
Xavier tapped his steepled fingers against his chin in thought. “Despite the newly shared space in your mind, your personality has remained stable, has it not?”
“As stable as it’s ever been,” Logan muttered. This time Rogue snorted.
The professor smiled vaguely, although Logan could see the slight fuzziness in his grey eyes that sometimes accompanied a particularly strenuous use of his telepathy. Logan felt a light tickle at the front of his mind, and before he could help it, barriers slammed shut against the intrusion. He saw the professor wince.
“Sorry, Chuck,” he said, feeling guilty. “But you didn’t give me any warnin’.”
“I doubt a warning would have helped,” the professor said hoarsely. “Even the few times you invited me to read you left me with a headache.”
Logan felt another wave of remorse. He frowned. “You never told me,” he said, feeling childishly as though the accusation would absolve him of his guilt.
Xavier waved his hand in dismissal, a gesture curiously unlike him.
Wolverine snickered. Stress can do all sorts of things to a body he paraphrased, mimicking Hank’s precise tones. Logan, although amused, did his best to ignore him.
“I don’t think it’s anything to worry about,” Xavier said. “Even from that brief contact I could feel that your mind has still compartmentalized your personality from Wolverine’s. Except now those compartments are butting up against each other whereas before, there was more space between them.”
“And that means what, exactly?”
There was a pause. “Leakage.”
“Huh?”
“Logan!” the professor said with some exasperation, “The compartments are figurative, not hermetically sealed containers inside your skull.”
“I know that,” Logan muttered, “but what the hell do you mean by leakage?”
Xavier flapped his hand again and then massaged his temples briefly. “Just that your thoughts and probably your motivations are more in line with Wolverine’s right now. And vice versa. It’s probably a completely normal development.”
“How do you figure?” Logan frowned and Xavier sighed.
“As with any two individuals who spend enough time together, there will be some blending of mannerisms, preferences, and even thoughts. Basically,” the professor said wryly, “you and Wolverine are like an old married couple.”
Rogue guffawed.
Logan scowled. Damned if I’m gonna ask him ‘bout that memory o’ the redhead now, he grumbled to Wolverine. He felt his alter ego’s nonverbal agreement as he turned to Rogue. “Your turn,” he said to her snidely, and waved his hand at the computer screen.
Rogue didn’t even think twice before responding to his tone. She rudely flipped Logan the bird and turned her attention to the professor, absently noting his and Hank’s shocked looks.
I see what you mean about Rogue acting oddly, Xavier’s voice whispered in Logan’s mind. Before Logan could respond, he was gone.
* * *
The idiot’s just worried, you know.
Still doesn’t give him any reason to be nasty to me, Rogue sniffed.
The only response was the vague impression of a shrug.
“Let’s get this over with,” Rogue sighed.
“Very well,” came Xavier’s muffled response. He opened a drawer in his desk hidden from the camera’s view and came up with a curious looking helmet. The professor adjusted several knobs studding the outside of the contraption and then placed it on his head. He flipped a yellow tinted visor down once he had the helmet settled securely.
“What the hell,” Rogue asked curtly, “is that?”
“Portable Cerebro,” Xavier murmured, squinting a bit into the camera. “Now I need you to relax, Rogue, and try to empty your mind like I taught you.” The professor stiffened momentarily before asking uneasily, “Does your new…friend have any objection to what we’re about to do?”
Nope, came the unbidden reply.
Rogue relayed the information, wondering, as she had before, at the voice’s carefree tone. She settled comfortably in her chair and began the deep breathing exercises that helped her calm her mind. It was, unexpectedly, easier than it ever had been before, and even as her eyes were just sliding closed, she felt Xavier slip effortlessly into her mind.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Another relatively short chapter. I think I've got everything worked out in my mind now, so hopefully the story won't seem as stilted as it has the last few chapters.
Chapter End Notes:
By the way, I didn't make the eugenics movement up. As nasty as it is, it really did happen, and there are still sterilization laws in various states.