un_gloved | Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

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Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

After enough time on the island, it wasn't unusual to wake up and notice things were different. Weather changed and the atmosphere smelled different, the bed you were sleeping in wasn't quite right, the skin you were sleeping in wasn't yours.

Which was just creepy.

This time, though, as Rogue stretched into the sheets and turned her face against the pillow, instead of the nag of unfamiliarity and the typical roll of dread in the pit of her stomach, she felt a deep flood of comfort. She breathed in deep and opened her eyes, slowly, letting the creme colored paint and familiar furniture come into focus. The light from the window meant it was morning. Distantly she could hear sounds of movement, but it was far off, in some distant room of the mansion. The mansion.

She sat bolt upright, suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings. Her room looked exactly as she had left it. This was zero help. The island never pulled the same trick twice in a month. Hell, the island never pulled the same trick twice in a year. She started for the door, turned back and found some shorts so she wasn't running around in a thong and a t-shirt, and then headed out, bewildered and skeptical. She stomped barefooted down the hall for the stairs, her thoughts turning rapidly. If she was home, what did that mean? Shouldn't she have been on that barren plateau holding an unconscious Remy Lebeau in her arms? Or did the world reset itself after the M'kraan hit, and then unhit? It was possible, maybe, that the rift in the timeline Legion had created had done something similar to all the X-Men, sent them someplace else and brought them back. Siege Perilous had done similar. And if that were true, and she was about to be surrounded by a bunch of grumpy, agitated, confused mutants (she'd prefer Sentinels, good Lord) then after the dust settled and they'd been debriefed, maybe she could just give Gateway or Lila Cheney a li'l visit 'n see...

See if the island was even a real place? Home two minutes and you're lookin' for a way back? How is that right...?

The thought had stopped her and she looked up, seeing where she was for the first time since her room. Muscle memory, years of habit, knowing the place so intimately- she'd made straight for the kitchen. Beast stared at her from the beam he hung upside down on, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other, and Iceman sat with a spoon poking out of his mouth and a bowl of rapidly disintegrating cereal in front of him.

"...What?" she said, startled.

"Good morning," Bobby said around the spoon before pulling it out.

"And I inquired as to how you were feeling on this particularly lovely day," Beast added. "But perhaps it's earlier for some of us than others. Coffee, Rogue?"

The young mutant known only as Rogue blinked, twice, and tried to get a grip on reality as she said, "Oh. No thanks, Hank."

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It's easy enough to tell something's different. I smell it. That's enough.

Snikt.

Healing factor's back, too. So, someone's dumped me back home, and they didn't tell me, first. I don't trust that.

Mansion's wrong, too. They don't rebuild it that different, but there're enough changes to know that this is a while back. A quick scout shows that the Danger Room hasn't both decided it can wear panties and then get them in a bunch.

I head for the kitchen. Question is, how much do I trust whoever I find in there?

Rogue stared worriedly into her coffee cup as she leaned against the sink, and looked up when Wolverine walked in. He looked about as happy as usual. There was absolutely no indication in his demeanor or appearance of anything being different, even if she looked tan as anything, a subject she had already had to chastise Bobby about pestering her for. Hank, wisely, had said nothing.

This was going to be tough.

"...Heya, Wolvie."

"You been on vacation?"

I sniff, just to check if I smell any salt, like she's been spending time on a tropical island, but I get something else, first.

The hell am I smelling him for?

Ah, hell.

Remember how I $#%^&ing hate time travel?

Her eyes snapped back to his face. She absently tucked one foot behind her knee, against the cabinet.

"Girl's got a right to some sun'n sand everyone once in a while, doesn't she?"

"Nice to see someone's finding some leisure time and not inviting anybody else along even though they could totally use a vacation too," Bobby groused in a stream of words that should have required more lung capacity to get out. Rogue tossed her coffee cup at him, with the hot coffee still inside.

"Geez!" He turned in the chair, fingers frosting over, freezing the liquid in time for it to shatter against his face and arms. Beast reached down a hand to catch the cup before it could do the same.

"Perhaps it would be wiser to allow her to finish the coffee before arousing her ire, Robert."

Cable's first response upon waking up in what he recognized as a room in the Xavier Mansion was to turn over and go to back to sleep.

He had played this game once before and he just wasn't interested in doing it again. He wasn't back in Salem at all, it was just an elaborate illusion, and anything he did would make no difference once he woke up again.

In all honesty, a not inconsiderable part of him was tempted to just shoot himself in the head and see out the two days that way, for no other reason than spite, but there was no guarantee that wouldn't actually kill him in reality.

So when he did finally wander down to the kitchen, which due to the fact that his telepathy was apparently restored in this illusion he had discovered was full of people, it was already getting on towards mid morning. There was no rush.

Cable fully intended just to find himself some beer and food and wait out the two days.

Jamie Madrox, Multiple Man, had never attended Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, nor had he ever been one of the X-Men. In fact, barring the treatments following his confrontation with the Fantastic Four ages back and a few scattered visits over the years, he hadn't spent much time there at all. But he'd always been observant -- the detective's license was only a piece of paper to confirm as much -- so when he rolled out of bed and onto the floor, greeted by the simultaneous groans of three dupes, he knew precisely where he was. He even knew to some degree why he was where he was. What he didn't know, however, was who else had been sent along with him.

"Talk about itty bitty living space," remarked one dupe, stretching his arms above his head. "Seriously, dude. We need to look into getting a bigger head."

Madrox bit back his annoyance and simply extended a hand as he wrenched open the door, absorbing all of the dupes in one go. They'd each only had less than a minute's worth of memories, but the experience was disconcerting enough after having gone almost two months without to give him a moment's pause. Fortunately, their voices quieted soon enough, and before he knew it, he was already storming through the hallway, on the lookout for anyone who'd been on the island, and coming up with lies to tell should he run into anyone who hadn't been.

"Does kind of compound the offence," I say, as if I'm just agreeing with Bobby.

And if no one has any context for that word in the middle there, they're not going to look on it as anything other than than that.

Rogue pushed away from the counter.

"Hallway," she told Wolverine, and kicked the leg of Bobby's chair as she passed it.

"Eat your frosted flakes."

"They're mini wheats," he muttered, watching her go.

Edited 2009-08-24 03:41 (UTC)

Rogue had replaced her costume and her boots, though she hadn't found any accessories to go with them and so felt inexplicably under-dressed. She was just thoughtfully tugging her gloves on as she turned a corner when she ran smack into Jamie Madrox.

Good thing she was covered neck to toe.

"Oh, geez- Jamie?"

"Looks like I'm in for it," I tell Bobby and Hank, putting up my hands in a what-can-you do gesture as I follow along.

Neither of 'em make any move to help, which is what I want, and the sensible thing to do if they value their skins. Still. Chickens.

Rogue crossed her arms as she walked, reconsidered the location, and moved to the French Doors that opened to the back patio. She stepped out, holding the door for Wolverine, and took a deep breath in.

Smelled like Westchester.

"Call me crazy, but this feels like home."

"Oh, for crying out loud," muttered Madrox, stumbling back a few steps, and consequently bumping into the dupe created from the initial collision, which in turn created yet another dupe.

I spent the past two months debating whether or not losing my powers was a good thing or a bad one. I’m starting to suspect I have my answer.

"Yeah! Watch where you're going, lady!" shouted the first dupe, stepping forward from behind Madrox, so he could flip Rogue off. "You coulda broke our nose!"

The second dupe, who wore a somewhat snooty expression, tapped the first dupe rather politely on the shoulder. "Do let me take care of this, hmm?" he said with an exaggerated simper. The first dupe obliged, but it was with some obvious reservations -- he glared at the first dupe's back with surprising vehemence. "My apologies, Rogue. It would seem that my worse half is somewhat...lacking in manners. What he meant to say was--"

"Don't tell her what I meant to say, ya pansy!" He whipped around to face Madrox, his face screwed up in rage. "Who the hell does he think he is, talking for the rest of us like we aren't even here?!"

"Okay, that's enough out of you," said Madrox, and he grabbed the first dupe by the arm, absorbing him before he could get another word in edgewise.

The second dupe merely turned around, and held up his hands. "You'll want me, too, I suppose, yes?"

"You and the pretentious accent," confirmed Madrox, and he grabbed the dupe by the shoulder to absorb him as well. More memories and perspectives flooded his brain for a few short seconds, but the moment they'd dissipated, he turned his attention to Rogue.

"Hi."

Rogue stared at him for a moment after he'd collected himself, and then impulsively gave him a hug.

"You might be the weirdest person I know." She stepped back, putting more distance between them than was necessary.

"Okay, you know what's goin' on, right?"

I'm the weirdest person I know. Even among mutants I'm considered something of an anomaly. Then again, I give 'talking to yourself' a whole new meaning, so maybe that status is warranted.

"We're dreaming," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose for a second before he gently let his hand fall back down to his side, careful not to create another dupe. "Are we in your head or someone else's?"

Edited 2009-08-24 06:00 (UTC)

"Dunno. Mansion looks pretty much like how I remember it, so chances are mine. Jamie. Wolvie's here. The Wolverine from your time. From th'island," she told him, watching him very closely as she said it.

Rahne remembers all too well the last time she was at Xavier's, and it wasn't exactly pleasant. It's because of that, maybe, that it doesn't take her long at all, a few seconds tops, after opening her eyes to realize where she is. The real question is why she's there, and how she got there in the first place. She has a feeling that it can't be anything good.

Still in the clothes she slept in, shorts and a tank top, she goes out into the hall, closes the door, leans against it and lets out a long, heavy breath. The last couple of weeks have really been confusing, but this is even more so. Wary just of this much, she doesn't think she ought to go any further yet. She'll wait and figure out what's going on, first. Of course, she doesn't know how to go about doing that, but sooner or later, it'll have to make more sense.

Somehow, of all the people to see hurrying through the hall of Xavier's, Jamie is about the last person Rahne would have expected to see. Eyes widening a little at the sight of him, she steps forward out of instinct, reaching out for his shoulder so she can stop him. Somehow, she gets the impression that he isn't supposed to be here, either.

"Jamie," she says, unable to help the urgency in her voice, already glancing around to see if anyone else is nearby. "D'ye know what's going on?"

Madrox looked at her quizzically, sensing there was some sort of deeper significance he was missing, but entirely unsure as to what it was. "Okay," he said, nodding slowly. "He's not my favorite guy, but I'm not going to ask him to help me perform harakiri."

She stifled a sigh. If she had to have this conversation, discretely, with everyone, she was going to lose it.

"Jamie- He cannot know this ain't real. You can't say anything, not one damn thing about it, or else he will lose it. 'n I don't mean he'll get pissed, I mean he will lose control, and go beserk, 'n when that happens, people die 'n there's just about no stoppin' him. So puttin' your death wish aside, I need you t'promise you won't say anythin'."

"What?!" he asked, taken aback, and it's only through some miracle that he doesn't end up bumping into the wall. He'd had enough comments from the peanut gallery already and he'd only been up a few minutes.

Sure, Wolverine's never been amongst the most stablest of mutants, but he's still -- by some weird definition that I've never been entirely comfortable with -- one of the good guys. He's not going to go on an island rampage the second he wakes up with a killer case of morning breath. He's never been the biggest proponent for personal hygiene. Or hair removal. Some detective I am. I can't figure out for the life of me why she's so freaked out about thi-- oh. Oh.

The dawning of realization flitted across his face somewhere at the tail end of his inner monologue. "He's dying back there, isn't he?" he said, and though it was phrased as a question, it was anything but. "Adamantium poisoning."

Rogue recoiled slightly, blinking a few times, blindsided.

"What- What?" she said. "No, Jamie, you're not-"

He's dying back there, isn't he?

That was ridiculous.

"You're not listening t'me," she bit out, irritated. "Wolverine relies-" Adamantium poisoning.

"Has always relied more than anythin' on his senses, 'n there's no way of tellin' this from what's real. If he figures out that somone- something, the island is messing with his senses he will go berserk, and he will kill someone, and he will not even know it. He can't...""

Dying?

"He can't... can't find out..." She was frowning, at the well polished hardwood floor. She was utterly and perfectly still as the knowledge settled in and her eyes turned a brighter, liquid green.

"Why didn't I know that," she said, forgetting to blink until the tears became too heavy to stick to her lashes and started to slide down her cheeks.

"I should have realized that on my own. How..." Her expression broke and she clamped one gloved hand over her mouth.

Rahne has been on enough teams that it's perfectly plausible for her not to have been island-bound like myself, but 'what's going on?' isn't a question she'd be asking otherwise.

Madrox stopped somewhat abruptly, turning to face Rahne. "We're dreaming," he told her. "I haven't figured out whose head we're in this time, but I only just got up. It should be clear soon enough, though. There are only so many people who call Xavier's home." Then, with a vague gesture, he added almost as an afterthought, "And your powers are back."

Oh, great. Like I needed anything else to feel guilty about. I'm starting to think I should really draw up a list...pencil in some time each day to fully appreciate all of the crappy things I've done in my life. Not that I don't do that already, but then I'd at least have a built-in excuse to avoid Terry. 'Sorry, can't talk. Gotta brood at 2 o'clock, and I'm already running late now that you're here.'

Madrox stared at Rogue in mute horror. The island messing around with Wolverine's heightened senses hadn't even crossed his mind. He was a doctor and a detective -- his thoughts went directly to pathology without passing go or collecting his $200.00.

"Or he's not dying," he backtracked quickly, trying to find a way to spin this in a direction that did not involve Rogue crying. "The island probably got rid of his claws, right? Of course it did. Anything that makes us even remotely special is zapped right out of us." He waited a beat before muttering, "Oh, boy, this is awkward."

She almost punched him. Only in the shoulder. But she didn't want to deal with more of him.

She also didn't want the situation to be any more bizarre than it already, ostensibly, was. Anyone in the mansion who wasn't fresh off the island, coming across Jamie Madrox and her, weeping, in the hallway was going to have a lot of questions. She turned, looking for the nearest, exit, and ducked into one of the mansion's many refurbished libraries that doubled as classrooms.

For a very brief second, he considered letting her just go and deal with the information herself. Then he felt like a bigger dick than he already was and nixed that plan almost immediately.

"Rogue--" he called after her, ducking into the very same library-turned-classroom, and he carefully pulled the door close behind him. Any loud noises were sure to draw the attention of some unwanted visitor, and the last thing either of them needed was some curious student interrupting them. "If he didn't tell you...chances are there's nothing wrong, right? You're practically family. He would have told you."

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Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

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