It took three days for Bobby to talk to her in private. She sat at her desk, working on her first online class for college, one leg pulled up so her chin rested on her knee.
When she'd left home at sixteen, she'd spent almost seven months on the road, out of school. By the time she'd finally found her way to the mansion, by way of Logan, she'd had some severe catching up to do.
Luckily, she'd been able to fling around some of her advanced placement knowledge and graduate by December, only half a year behind and still eighteen. Now, in April, she'd really gotten into starting college. And wouldn't Mama 'n Daddy be so proud, she thought sardonically. One hand scrolled down on the reading assignment.
Bobby walked in her open doorway and leaned back against the wall, watching her. She smiled at him and held up a finger while she found a place to stop. Finally, she placed her foot down and stood, taking a deep breath.
He looked down at the floor and scratched his head.
“It's been difficult,” he confessed. “...finding the words to say to you.”
She nodded. He looks so damn young, she thought. Like nothing's happened at all. She'd left in the middle of the night, without telling him of her plans. She'd left him stranded thinking that the girl he'd been involved with was going to make a life-altering decision without telling him. She should have said something.
“I'm proud of you.”
She blinked. “Huh?”
“I am,” he repeated. “I'm proud of you for not taking the 'cure'. I never wanted it for you. I never wanted you to change.”
She swallowed past the sarcastic comment. “Proud of me.”
He nodded. “We all are. Storm, Kitty, Pete, and I'm sure Logan is too.”
Oh, well isn't that just so sweet. She felt her chin jut out in irritation. “It wasn't their choice. Or yours, Bobby.”
“I know that,” he said by way of explanation. “It's just. You know. It's hard to let someone go and make the wrong decision. But you didn't. And we're proud of you for it.”
She felt her teeth bite into her bottom lip. Anger bubbled up her throat. “And y’all just decided to have a discussion about me and my decisions.” He opened his mouth to reply. “Last Ah checked, sugah, gossipin’ was still considered rude.”
“Well,” he stuttered. “It just sorta came up and...”
She stormed out of her room, leaving him to excuse himself. She could just...ugh! She stomped around in righteous indignation. She'd had to leave home at sixteen, that hadn't been her choice. Her months on the road, fending off disgusting perverts and scrounging for food like a homeless mutt hadn't been her choice. Her mutation wasn't her choice. She'd be damned if people were going to prance around thinking they had a reason to judge her.
She ended up in the t.v. room. The screen was on but no one was around. She plopped down on the couch and crossed her arms, sinking down as far as she could, trying to cool down. She watched as Hank made his speech as the newly appointed United Nations Ambassador for Mutants. She gave a crooked smile. Way to go, fur ball.
She noticed movement coming from the french doors leading to the patio just as Logan walked through them. He pulled off his jacket and slung it over a chair.
“You just get back?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he mumbled. He sat himself on the couch next to her, placing his feet up on the coffee table. She slapped at his legs to indicate that they belonged on the floor. He reciprocated by shoving her in the shoulder with an amused grunt. She smiled.
“You've been holed up in your room last couple days,” he mused.
“Yeah.” She bit back her own comment -- that he had been holed up in bars for so long he probably owed them rent. The stench of loose women was so powerful she could practically taste it. Ick! Leave it to Logan to drown his sorrows in the nearest whore house. He glanced at her from the side as if he could read her thoughts. She grudgingly refrained from commentary.
“Think Popsicle was looking for ya.”
Aaand we're back to this. Her brows drew down into a frown. “He found me.”
“You two get into it?” It was a loaded question.
“He's proud of me,” she sneered. “For not taking the cure. Apparently,” she went on sarcastically, “You're all proud of me.”
His face tilted to the side. “Why's it matter?”
She pulled her leg up and rested her chin on it again. “Just 'cause.”
“It's your decision,” he repeated.
“Apparently, it's been put to a vote.” She stomped her foot down and leaned forward, wringing her hands together. “Why does it matter to everyone else what I do?”
He shrugged. “People care about you. So, they care what you do with your mutation. It's a big part of you.”
“If I had taken the cure, would they have lost all respect for me?” She glanced at him through the hair that had fallen to cover her face.
“Dunno,” he replied unhelpfully. “You didn't, so it's irrelevant at this point.” He looked curiously at her. “Question is, how come you put so much emphasis on the ‘what if’ that wasn't?”
“I did,” she blurted out.
He frowned in confusion. “Did what?”
She pulled at the ends of her gloves nervously. “Take it. The 'cure'. I took it.”
He lifted himself to the edge of the couch and turned to her. “What the hell do you mean, you took it?”
She let out a breath of air. “I mean, I took the damn 'cure', Logan. Just like I said.”
She watched as his mouth opened and closed looking for something to say. She found it amusing. He wasn't usually at a loss for words.
“But, your mutation...”.
“Isn't gone,” she finished for him. “Yeah, I'm aware of that.”
He clenched his jaw. He was getting frustrated with her. She sighed. He'd be getting angry soon if she didn't elaborate.
“They couldn't give me the cure in New York City, so they had to fly me out to San Francisco.”
“On a plane?”
She rolled her eyes. “No Logan, I flew in on the back of a flying donkey. Yes, on a plane!”
He just about stuck his finger through her forehead. “Don't get smart with me, kid.” He was really fuming now. “Why?”
She grumbled. “Well, the local clinic didn’t carry the right dosage for my...level...of mutation.”
His head drew back in confusion. “Level?”
She licked her lips and chewed on her bottom lip. “Class. My class of mutation.”
“Class,” he repeated, finally hearing a word he understood. “What classes did they carry?”
“One through Three.”
She watched as his eyes scrunched, realization sinking in. He looked jarred. “So they sent you to San Francisco to get the higher dose?” She nodded.
“It work on others who needed that level?” She nodded again.
“But not on you,” he finished. “Why not?”
He was watching her with his feral eyes. She felt like prey.
“It wasn't strong enough.” She grimaced. “Well, it worked for about 30 seconds.”
“And then,” he pushed.
“And then the doctor fell into a coma.”
A quick pause. “The higher dosage. It's for what classes?” She was gonna have to tell him the scary part.
“Just Four.”
His mouth fell open and she held her breath.
“A Class Four 'cure' wasn't enough?” he said incredulously. He started to look agitated, worried. “You're not a...” He had trouble getting the words out.
“No!” she replied. She could see where this was going. “I'm a Class Four. Just, I guess a really strong Class Four. But that's it.”
“You sure?” He looked pretty upset.
“Well. I mean, that's what the doctors said before they started talking about keeping me for experimentation.”
He suddenly stood and raked his hands through his hair. He turned sharply at a thought and looked a bit angry. “You didn't give them your real name, did you?”
“Yeah,” she snapped. “And my address.” She wasn't that stupid. “No!” She felt a bit offended at the idea. “Logan, it's over. They don't even know who I am. And after the fiasco that followed, I doubt they're even going to think twice about me.”
“Marie.” She blinked at the use of her real name. That was new. He squatted in front of her, taking her gloved hand. “Listen to me. They're gonna look for you. They'll need to get their act together first, but eventually, they'll come looking for the Class Four mutant too strong for the cure to work on.”
He was starting to scare her. “Did they get any information from you at all? Anything? Age? Relatives' names?
“No, Logan. I didn't give them anyth...” She stopped mid sentence. His hand tightened around hers.
“My blood,” she whispered. “They did a blood test to start. That's how they figured out I was a Class Four.”
He pulled away and stood, hands once again raking through his hair. “Shit!”
She looked around chaotically, trying not to freak out. “They have my blood. They have...they'll get my name...” She felt hysteria set in. What if they found out where she was from? “Logan...” even her shoulders trembled.
He turned and grabbed her, holding her upper arms. “Hey, hey. It's alright.” He rubbed her shoulders up and down. “I'm not gonna let them get near you, OK?”
He pulled her into his chest. “You hear me?” She nodded. “Good.” He pulled her back, running a hand down the back of her head. “Come on. We gotta go find Storm.”
XXXXXXX
She sat by as Logan filled Storm in. Her eyes widening in surprise before looking at her with shockingly humbled eyes. They'd discussed options and precautions, eventually sending for Hank at the earliest possibility.
Storm had ransacked Charles' office. With Rogue present, she went through some of the files. Storm read off notations, attempting to leave out irrelevant personal conversations. Rogue spent that time ripping files away from her, claiming their irrelevance to the matter. But he'd known.
The Professor had known she was a Class Four and hadn't told her, told anyone. She wanted to stomp out to his headstone and give it a good kick. Who did he think he was, keeping secrets like that? She'd made it out to the squared-off section where Jean and Scott were immortalized next to him, and had copped out. Instead, she'd picked up a rock and thrown it into the treeline. It did little to relieve the anger.
She submitted to labwork when Hank arrived. Bobby had tried to be supportive, but it was stressful having him around. She'd asked Logan and Storm to not tell anyone else that she had, in fact, taken the dosage. It hadn't worked anyway and it would just fuel gossip and reproachful looks.
Logan wasn't pleased at her making the request but he'd bitterly complied. The rest of the mansion walked around thinking that she'd changed her mind. They didn't even know she was a Class Four mutant.
Bobby was the only other Class Four in the building. His powers had manifested stronger and stronger. He'd made a major breakthrough at Alcatraz against John. She'd been pretty floored to see him turned into an iceman. He'd worked on it ever since in simulation. It was incredible to watch. His touch froze anything it came in contact with. Hank had measured his body temperature at 30 below. Celsius. Her fingers itched every time he iced up in simulation.
Even so, he still topped out at the lowest levels of a Class Four. He still had limitations. Dehydration was a real danger to him. Remaining in iceman form sucked all the water from him. Hank had ordered him to maintain a strict minimal count of 20 ten-ounce servings of water a day. He'd taken to carrying around a gallon tub.
She couldn't understand. She couldn't wrap her head around the idea that her mutation, her curse was stronger. Still, she didn't want him or anyone else to know.
The strain in their relationship stretched until it couldn't hold any more. They didn't have a big blow up, but it strained their friendship. By June, they only spoke to each other during training. They were cordial, even kind, but never socialized outside of training.
All the bloodwork and work-ups Hank completed between UN obligations came up with only one simple truth. She was a Class Four mutant. In Hank’s words, she 'teetered' on the edge of a Class Five.
Logan had not been pleased. She found it odd. He did not like her working to grow her power. Still, though, he insisted on being with her during most of her sessions. Without the professor to help focus her, she'd been a bit lost as to how to proceed.
She tried to start where they had left off. Meditation and strengthening exercises. She tried to isolate pulls. Logan volunteered most the time. She tried pulling only his sense of hearing, or just his smell, or just his ability to heal. He was unamused when she cut her fingertips to see if it had worked.
She also tried pulling harder or softer, tried to yank at the mutation with a simple brush of her fingers. Progress was painfully slow, but there was progress. She skirted around the idea of trying to pull thoughts instead of mutations. She tried it once with Hank and ended up putting him down for two days and herself using phrases that contained the words 'stars' and 'garters'. Logan put an end to that real quick.
Logan concentrated on teaching the younger X-men how to fight. She suspected he did it to help him forget. Well, that and because he must have exhausted all of his options at those skanky bars he frequented.
By June, he'd stopped going out all night. No disreputable woman left to screw, I guess. She'd brought it up once in annoyance during training when he'd been particularly hard on her, and she'd been put in her place with a simple swoop of his leg.
She'd landed so hard on her back that her teeth shook. He'd leaned over her and growled out the words.
“You're you. So I'm not gonna break your arm for the comment. But watch your mouth, Marie. Or next time I'll kick that pretty ass of yours 'till it hurts to shit.”
She had sighed and moved on. He'd never been a vague individual.
Their other main concern was Magneto. With the knowledge that the cure hadn't worked for more than a minute on her, they speculated as to whether or not Magneto had regained his power.
Mystique hadn't yet, and she was also a Class Four -- which placed her under Rogue's status. But Magneto? They weren't sure how powerful he was. So they kept their contacts open looking for any signs of him. All they could do was wait.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here we go. The next chapter. Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
I really thrive off of reviews...whether you like it, love it, hate it or 'ehh, so so.' Please let me know. THANKS!
Also, I'm looking for a Beta-reader...any suggestions?
Also, I'm looking for a Beta-reader...any suggestions?