It wasn't often that Charles Xavier wished for the
use of his legs, or that he pitied himself for not having the ability to walk or
run. But sometimes, like now, he wished for legs so he could pace and think
through his thoughts with long, careful strides, to eliminate the tension in his
body. Today he had to rely on his intellect--which alone was formidable, but it
could not relieve his anxiety. He had to trust his fingers for that.
The professor weaved his fingers and clasped his
hands together, as if making a fist. Why run, child? Why are you
running?
His
office door swung open, and Scott and Jean entered, still in uniform. He stared
at both with hopeful eyes, despite already knowing the truth.
"Anything?"
Scott shook his head and angrily yanked his leather
gloves from his hands "We searched Tokyo, checked every weather anomaly--hell,
we even checked Paris on the way back, just in case. Nothing."
"I still don't understand, Professor. What is she doing?"
Scott felt Jean's fury and frustration in their mindlink, and it started
giving him a headache. He didn't blame her, though. His thoughts weren't too
friendly, either.
"Something stupid," Scott spat unkindly.
"Or something desperate," Xavier said
softly.
"But what would she have to be desperate about?"
Xavier fondled the postcard, the one Ororo abandoned on her dresser in
her haste, five days ago. He had caught a flash of angst from her then, but only
pursued it enough to ask if she were all right. Efficiently, coldly--without
hint of anything to reveal her plan--she cheerfully lied to him. She was one of
the few who could, and he believed her. Despite his constant mental cries he
hadn't heard from her since.
"She's alone. Believes she cannot trust
us," Xavier whispered. His fingers roamed the card lightly, as if revealing
a hidden truth by touch. His blue eyes became lost in a memory. "She's
quite the character," he amended, lips quirking in a slight smile.
"Quite the little thief."
He
sighed. "I do not think she's doing anything illegal, although her actions
border on it. I think...I think it might be best to let her go, until she's
ready to return to us."
"Professor--"
He held up a hand. "She needs her freedom,
Scott. She needs to work through this problem on her own. If we constantly chase
after her we could do more harm and she may never return." He worked the
card, thumbing the rough edges with a delicate care. Paris? Perhaps. Perhaps not...
Jean's eyes narrowed as she searched her mentor's
face. "No. There's more to it than that. What aren't you telling us?"
"Nothing you don't already know," Xavier
said cryptically. His eyes danced, whether from anger or amusement, Jean
couldn't tell. "Ororo is at a crossroads. Her next decisions should be of
her choosing, not of ours. I suggest, for the sake of the school, that one of
you either brush up on your historical skills, or begin looking for an interim
history professor. She might be gone for quite some time."
He dismissed them coldly, without preamble, and they
weren't quite sure how to take his decision. For several seconds each made a
move to speak or counter his decision, but the protests died on their lips as
his gaze left them and focused on the front window. They turned quietly away,
not understanding but doing what he asked--when Charles Xavier made up his mind,
it did little good to argue with him. Jean exited first, her feelings betrayed
by her stiff steps. Scott was on her heels.
"Oh, and Scott." Scott paused his hand on
the doorframe, jaw clenched, unable to look at his surrogate father. How can
you leave her like that, his mind shouted; Xavier ignored him. "Call
Logan in, would you? It's time he earned his keep around the school."
The Professor's tone was light, joking even, but
Scott couldn't hold back the bitterness in his voice. "As you wish, Professor."
He slammed the door back and the figure roaming the hall glanced at him
darkly. Scott's jaw tightened. "Where's Jean?"
Logan shrugged and lit a cigar. "None of my
business."
Scott alternated on the balls of his feet, and Logan
smirked at the nervous gesture. "You and Jeannie have a fight? Finally had
enough of ya, huh?"
"He wants to see you," Scott spat. He
strode towards the elevator that took its passengers to the lower levels, to the
Danger Room. "Maybe you can convince him that what we did wasn't a colossal
waste of his precious time."
Wolverine raised an eyebrow. "This about
Ororo?"
"Sure as hell ain't about the Easter
Bunny," Scott said tightly, as the elevator doors slammed shut.
Logan's eyes darkened. He went with Scott and Jean's
little witch hunt, hoping for some action--either physical, or, he thought
playfully, with Jean--but they had gone five non-stop days of
cold trails and almost no sleep. Their nerves were fried, and those two
still had to teach and make things look as if "everything was fine" so
the kids wouldn't get nervous. For some reason, that bothered him. If they were
going to go after Ororo, they shouldn't give up without a damn good reason. He
tromped into Xavier's office, expecting a stiff-necked stubborn old jackass, and
was surprised by a broken man hunched over his desk.
"Logan."
"Chuck," Logan said quietly. He sat
leadenly in a wooden chair that creaked beneath him, due to his heavy metal
skeleton and relentlessly puffed his cigar; Xavier didn't rebuke him.
"What's the story? Was the dick right? We do all that travelin' for
nothin'?"
"Not necessarily," the Professor sighed. He
folded his hands and stared at his knuckles, and Logan noticed a subtle change
in his pheromones. Something he wasn't too sure he liked.
"You're goin' behind One-Eye and Red's
back."
Xavier looked up quickly, surprised that Logan had
caught on as easily as he had. "More or less. I don't want them to know
what I'm going to ask of you."
Logan massaged his cigar between his fingers,
watching the ember glow brightly. He snuffed it suddenly and winced from the
heat, watching the small wound on his thumb and forefinger instantly heal.
"What makes you so sure I'm gonna say 'yes?'"
"Because you're a man of action," Xavier
said simply. "And you haven't had time to exercise your skills in some
time. Because Alkali Lake was a failure. And because, quite simply, you're
bored."
Logan laughed out loud, genuinely pleased.
"Can't say you're off the mark there, Chuck." His face darkened
slightly. "Sometimes I ain't inta playin' Teacher's Pet or actin'
nice."
"Understood." Xavier leaned back in his
chair with a sigh and lay his steepled fingers to his lips. "What I am
about to tell you is in strictest confidence. I shouldn't be saying anything at
all, but for the circumstances. And the loophole."
"Loophole? What kinda loophole?"
A small smile shadowed his features. "Ororo
begged me never to tell anyone at the mansion her past secrets--especially Scott
and Jean. She didn't think they would understand. A mutant was one thing. Her
past...well. Let's just say that she remains rather standoffish for a
reason."
"So, since I wasn't here at the time--"
"Exactly. I feel I can tell you, since you
weren't part of the original bargain."
"Sneaky bastard."
Xavier's eyes twinkled, but he didn't disagree.
"She would hate that I told you, but I think you of all people would
understand."
"Due to my 'colorful' past, Chuck?"
Wolverine smirked. "What's she done that's got 'er runnin' so bad that you
need me to get 'er back?"
"She has a criminal history, Logan. Carjacking,
theft, breaking and entering…attempted manslaughter. Attempted murder."
Logan choked back a laugh. "You're kiddin' me,
right?"
"No, I'm not," Xavier said seriously. His
eyes turned hard. "When the police contacted the Institute, it was because
they did not have the facilities to incarcerate such a dangerous
sixteen-year-old. They hoped I could do something to hold her, until they could
find suitable arrangements. Or at the very least they hoped I could find a way
to dampen her powers so they could force her to serve her jail sentences
peacefully. When they brought her to me, she was little better than a
temperamental street rat."
Logan shook his head. "An' you 'reformed' the
little hellion."
"No," he said, disagreeing sharply.
"She reformed herself. Once she saw that she wasn't alone, that there were
others like her, we began working on her temper--and her powers, of course.
She barely spoke to anyone in the beginning, so great was her fear of
returning to jail. When she did, she pretended not to know English well enough,
and hid behind an imperious, untouchable persona. But the juvenile courts were
all too happy to rid themselves of her, and we had a sympathetic enough judge
who put her on more or less permanent probation, on the condition that she stay
at the Institute as my ward."
"An' skipped hard time in the deal. Pretty lucky
for you, Chuck. If she'd met up with the wrong people first--"
Xavier sighed deeply. "I shudder to think what
would have happened, had Erik found her. That would have been tragic, to say the
least."
"At least," Wolverine echoed. He took out
another cigar and carefully lit it. "So you think she's back inta her shady
deals, an' ya want me to drag her sorry ass back home. Right?"
"Well, I wouldn't have put it in such eloquent
terms. But yes, more or less. But carefully, Logan," he said softly.
"You should track her, but not scare her. Find out what she's up to. See if
you can convince her to return of her own free will. Let her know--"
his voice caught. "Let her know that I still care deeply about her, no
matter what she feels she's done. That she's still welcome to return, no matter
what."
Wolverine stood, and popped his neck sharply. The
sound echoed through the office like a thunderclap. "I'll do what I can.
Can't say that bein' yer fetchit bitch's what I had in mind, but hell, if
there's a fight on the end of it I won't care."
Xavier's smile faltered a little. "Hopefully
there won't be too much of a struggle. For your sake." He scribbled on a
sticky note and handed it to Logan. "Here. That's all I have. It's a start,
anyway."
Logan studied the note. "Louisiana? Then what
was all that Tokyo and Paris shit about?"
"A ruse, probably. But I imagine your search
should begin near or around the French Quarter. That's where the police last found her. My guess is that any
business dealings she had may pick up thereabouts."
Wolverine nodded solemnly and crumpled the paper in
his fingers. "You sure 'bout not lettin' the Wonder Twins in on this one,
Chuck?"
"Who,
Scott and Jean? Yes." He rubbed his temple, as if stilling a headache.
"Right now, Ororo would never accept it. Later, perhaps. But not now."
"Your funeral."
Logan rubbed the paper in his fingers, deep in
thought. He pretended like he didn't care one way or the other, but he did. This
was his family now, the only family he had. If one of 'em was going through a
hard enough time to upset the others, well, something had to be done about it.
The balance had to be reset, for everyone's sake. This little problem of Storm's
would go away--one way, or another.