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1X10 – Ghosts – Act I
“Hey, how was the flight?” Doug asked Kitty via video chat.
The girl had her laptop set up on the desk in her old bedroom. It looked much the same as it had when she went to Xavier’s six years before. Her love of ballet was very prominent as posters from her many dances covered the walls and trophies littered the shelves. One would be hard pressed to pair the life of the girl that once occupied the room with the one which did so now.
“It was good,” she sat down at the desk, “how’s it been over there?”
“Oh, kinda boring,” he shrugged, “just your usual Sunday.”
“At least no one’s blown anything up,” she smirked.
“This is true,” Doug laughed, “so you got the whole week off from school, have I told you how awesome that is.”
Kitty shook her head and pulled some books out of her backpack, “You still have to send me my homework and Betsy wants us to read a whole list of books by the end of the week or something.”
“Just one of them,” he pointed out as Kitty actually looked at the assignment, “and write a short essay. I believe her words where,” Doug cleared his throat and continued in a perfect English accent, “’read one of these over-analyzed works of literary short fiction and tell me what you really think about it’.”
“Hhhmmm,” she couldn’t help but grin as she read down the list, “which one are you going to read?”
“I was thinking something by Poe,” he frowned, “but then everyone is picking him.”
“Death, murder, mystery,” she continued to scroll, “what’s not to like?”
“That was pretty much what everyone else said,” he nodded sagely.
A sent filled the air and she sniffed it out, “Oh, I think the latkes are done.”
“You’re going to hang up on me now,” it wasn’t exactly a question.
“For latkes,” she grinned, “always.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” he laughed.
“Laters,” she cut the connection with a smile and wave.
Closing her laptop, Kitty bounded down the stairs towards the kitchen. Her mother was sliding the last of the batch of latkes, which were basically potato pancakes, aka the best food ever invented, off the frying pan onto a large platter.
“Hey, sweetie,” her mom smiled as she started to clean up after her cooking, “grab us some plates and forks.”
“Sure,” she went over to the cabinet and pulled open the doors, only to find glasses instead of plates.
“Oh, sorry,” the older woman apologized as she put the pan in the sink, “I moved them over one.”
“Right,” Kitty reached up and grabbed two glasses, “might as well while I’m here.”
Having sorted out the dishes, Kitty and her mother sat at the kitchen island, tearing into the latkes covered in a generous helping of sour cream.
“These are still the best latkes ever, of all time,” Kitty said as she tried to cover her mouth because she was being rude and speaking with her mouth full.
“Your grandmother’s recipe,” her mother said fondly, “and I don’t even do it justice.”
“Oh no, you totally rock it,” Kitty assured her and took another bite.
“So, tonight is just us girls,” Mrs. Pryde nudged her daughter, “I thought we could stay up and watch cheesy chick flicks all night, gorging ourselves on chocolate, just like we used to.”
Kitty grinned, “Won’t your boss be mad if you show up with a chocolate hangover in the morning?”
“Let me ask her,” she tilted her head up and tapped her chin a couple of times, “no, I think she’s okay with it.”
The two had a good laugh, pulling more latkes onto their plates.
“And tomorrow,” her mom continued, “I invited Trevor over for dinner, if that’s okay?”
“Ah, sure,” Kitty shrugged, dipping into the sour cream, “it’ll be nice to meet him.”
“I know he’s not your father,” her mother started and Kitty had to keep herself from rolling her eyes, she was wondering when this talk would happen, “but he’s a sweet guy, and I really like him.”
“Okay, mom,” Kitty sat up and took a breath, “I know dad isn’t coming back, it’s just fact. So I’m perfectly okay with you getting into serious relationships with other guys. If Trevor makes you happy, then that’s nothing to do with me,” she paused, “unless he just creeps me out and if that’s the case, oh, we will have words.”
The woman laughed and gave her girl a hug, “You are such a brilliant young lady, you know that?”
“Yes, yes,” Kitty returned the laugh, “it’s such a burden.”
“Speaking of brilliance,” her mother’s smile faded a little, “Trevor doesn’t know anything about mutants. He thinks you’re going to Xavier’s because you’re a clever and talented girl who is much too smart for public school.”
“Which isn’t techincally a lie,” Kitty agreed, but she couldn’t help feeling a little put out by the underlining statement, what her mother was truly getting at, ‘don’t go intangible’.
Kitty couldn’t really argue, it wasn’t exactly a smart idea to reveal her mutant status in front of people she barely knew… but she couldn’t help feel that as much as she knew her mother loved her, the woman simply couldn’t accept that her little girl was different.
Her mother tried… which was better than most of her fellow students could say… but it didn’t make it hurt any less.
…
Scott landed the plane back at his usual small-craft airport near Westchester, pulling into the hanger bay that he stored his plane between flights.
“Alright,” he got out of his seat to see the two students gathering their stuff, “you got everything?”
“Yeah,” James Proudstar grabbed Sasha’s bag for her like it weighed nothing, super strength was handy like that.
Sasha Towne was a young African American girl who could transmute matter. She also had an infectious smile that Jubilee had classified as a secondary mutation, “Can we stop by Harry’s Hideaway on the way?”
“I could go for a burger,” Scott chuckled as he grabbed his own backpack before following them off the plane.
The kids headed towards his parked red Ford Mustang convertible while he locked up and did a last minute check to make sure his plane be okay till he had a chance to come back and do a thorough maintenance check.
“Scott!” James called out warningly.
Looking back towards them, he saw James drop the bags and push Sasha behind him. Scott didn’t know what was going on but he forgot his own bag as he ran towards them, glancing around as he did so, trying to spot any obvious threats.
The only treat seemed to be the one in front of them, that of Rogue leaning up against his Mustang. In the back of his mind he recognized that the top of the convertible was down even though he remembered leaving it up.
“Well, now ain’t that for a greeting,” Rogue put her hands up in a show of surrender, and that her fingers were still surely gloved, “I didn’t come for a fight, Boy Scout.”
“You can understand why that doesn’t put me at ease,” he replied as he continued to look around, checking all the corners and shadows, keeping the kids behind him.
“Fair enough,” she shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her, “but if you didn’t want to be found then you really shouldn’t use your real name on all your flight manifests. It’s like you want people to track you down and ambush you.”
“So this is an ambush,” Scott wanted to ignore her jab but she was right, his plane was a sitting duck for anyone to attack. So far, the team had no real enemies, the Brotherhood had never actually come after them, but this was changing.
“We can tag team,” James said behind him, “she can’t hurt me, just knock me out.”
Scott glanced over his shoulder, semi-horrified that one of his students would be so apt to fight. It wasn’t that James looked forward to the violence, but that he was willing to fight in order to keep everyone safe. Was it because that was just the kind of guy James was, or because, as Kitty said, it would the younger kids who were going to have to fight the big battles, they knew this and already surrendered to that fact.
“Now don’t be getting your panties in a twist,” Rogue laughed, “I told you, ain’t here to fight, this is simply a reply to your letter.”
He frowned, “My letter?”
“You asked for Magneto’s help,” she tilted her head and picked up a file folder that was lying on the trunk of his car out of view, “well, here it is.”
“I sent that letter last night,” he hadn’t expected a reply, let alone one so quickly.
“Courier is very efficient,” she explained with a hint of mirth, “Magneto called Quicksilver, who called me, and, well, here we are.”
“And you decided to bring me a file personally?” he frowned, still expecting an ambush, “Why not give it to Courier?”
“This file?” Rogue held it up, then turned her head to look down into his Mustang, “It goes with her.”
“Her?” Scott wasn’t sure if he understood her correctly.
Rogue started to back away from the car, leaving the folder resting on the trunk, “Have a look.”
Cautiously, Scott walked forward, checking still for any ambush, until he was close enough to see what she was talking about.
Laying down in the backseat of his car was a young woman, couldn’t have been much older than Jubilee. Her skin was naturally tanned, much like James, and her straight dark hair and high cheekbones spoke of her Native American heritage. She was dressed in hospital scrubs and looked to be sleeping, but there wasn’t something exactly right about it.
“Who is she?” Scott immediately demanded.
“According to her missing person’s record,” Rogue gestured towards the file, “her name is Danielle Moonstar, went missing seven weeks ago from outside Boulder, Colorado.”
He started to understand, “She was one of the Bella-Agra mutants?”
“Unfortunately,” Rogue’s demeanor finally took a more somber turn.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sasha said as her and James came up behind him either because they were curious or they sensed the need to stick together.
“Don’t know,” the Southerner admitted, “physically she’s in good shape for someone who’s been held like that for six or so weeks.”
“She’s in a coma,” Scott realized that’s what was off, “isn’t she?”
“Seems so,” Rogue tightened her jaw just a bit, “ain’t no reason for it that our doctors can tell. They think she’ll wake up in her own time but comas don’t always work out the way you predict.”
The woman would know, she had put plenty of people into temporary ones.
“I’m guessing you think Xavier or Jean could help her?” Scott reasoned.
“Xavier is the most powerful telepath on the planet,” Rogue easily acknowledged, “plus Red and Beast,” she chuckled, “your lack of achievements isn’t for a want of resources, that’s for sure.”
Scott decided to ignore yet another dig, “We’ll help her, make sure she wakes up.”
“Good,” Rogue nodded, “oh, Rowland’s records listed her as a communal empath.”
“Communal empath?” he had never heard that term before.
“That’s what he wrote,” she shrugged, “it’s in the file,” and with that she turned and started to walk out of the hanger.
“Rogue,” he called after her, “what does the Brotherhood get out of this?”
She stopped and barely looked over her shoulder, “What makes you think we’re getting anything out of this?”
“What makes me think you wouldn’t,” he responded.
“You know we’re on the same side, right?” she answered.
“Not for the same reasons.”
“Well,” he could just see her smile in the distance, “there’s that.”
Rogue continued to walk out of the open hanger and disappeared around the corner. Now sure the threat had passed, Scott opened the door and pulled forward the front seat to get closer to the girl and check her vitals. She had a steady pulse and her breathing was even.
He hoped they really could help the girl… but like Rogue said… comas can be very unpredictable indeed.
…
“I can’t watch that,” Kitty was laughing as she walked into the kitchen, big red bowl in hand, “I’ll die of second hand embarrassment!”
“Aw,” her mother called to her from the sofa, “he thought she was in love with his best friend’s dad,” she said with mock emotional trauma, “and was trying to keep her from making a horrible mistake!”
“He only thought that cause he’s an idiot,” Kitty opened a cabinet and not finding what she was looking for went to the next one, “he hid under the bed, who even does that in real life?”
“It was in the script,” the woman laughed back.
Rolling her eyes, Kitty found the popcorn box and pulled out a bag, ripping off the plastic before throwing it into the microwave. Hitting the popcorn button and adding an extra thirty seconds, she leaned against the counter as she waited.
Sitting across the kitchen was a china cabinet which held more brick-a-brack than actual dishes. The panels of the doors were lined with etched mirrors, it was very 80s that way. Kitty could clearly see her reflection in the mirrors, a memory floating to the surface…
Six Years Ago…
“Hurry up, Kitty,” her mother was bustling around, putting away dishes before heading into the living room, “the bus will be here soon.”
“Ugh,” the young Katherine Pryde did not want to go to school, but then what twelve year old did on a Monday morning?
Shoving the last piece of toast in her mouth, Kitty stood and made her way across the kitchen before realizing she left her scarf hanging off the back of the chair. It was no big deal to quickly turn around and grab it.
Only when she did so, her hand passed straight through the scarf and continued through the chair.
Quickly snatching her hand back, she held it up to her face and she realized she could see through her hand. Not in the way that you can see behind your hand if you screw with your eyes, no, her hand was literally translucent.
Equal parts amazed and terrified, she traced her hand to her cuff to see that her coat was just as transparent. Glancing over at the mirrored cabinet, her eyes widened under the realization that her who body was just the same, even the backpack dangling from her shoulder.
“Kitty,” her mother admonished and the girl whipped around at the voice, “the bus is here, let’s get going.”
Holding her hands up, Kitty had returned to flesh and blood, had she simply imagined it?
…
“I’m no medical doctor,” Jean was walking around the young girl laid out on the table in the examination room, “but what I do know tells me that she’s in pretty good health. She shows small signs of malnourishment and dehydration but that’s likely from being on intravenous fluids and in an induced coma.”
“The coma was induced then?” Scott asked, moving out of her way as Jean put her tablet and stethoscope down on the cabinet.
“More than likely, it was either that or sedate her continuously while in the tank,” Jean frowned as she looked back at Danielle, “but I really couldn’t say for sure. Hank will be here next weekend, I can call Cecilia, see if she can come by tomorrow.”
“Probably a good idea,” he nodded, while Jean had more training than most of them, they really needed a fully qualified nurse or doctor at the school, one who could deal with mutations.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Professor Xavier rolled through the door, “and let us also see if we can wake this young lady up.”
“Can you mentally force someone out of a coma?” Scott asked as the telepath took up position behind the girl.
“Not exactly,” he said as he lightly touched Danielle’s temples, “coma’s come in various forms, sometimes it is just a matter of being a beacon in the fog.”
“Rowland called her a communal empath,” Scott added as he wasn’t sure if Xavier had read the file yet, “I wonder if that’s his way of saying she can affect groups of individuals instead of one on one.”
“Assuming she can affect another person’s empathy,” Jean mused, “some empaths can only sense other’s emotions.”
“However her mutation has manifested,” the Professor said slowly as he closed his eyes and creased his brow, “young Miss Moonstar has extremely high level psionic abilities.”
“Is this good or bad?” Scott asked.
Xavier let out a thoughtful hum, “We shall see.”
…
Having no need for a wheelchair seeing as he was only a mental construct, Charles found himself standing somewhere in the girl’s mind. He had no idea where he was in her subconcious as it was all very muddled, a layer of thick fog hanging in the air.
He heard a rustling sound behind him and turned, but he could see nothing through the dense shade of greenish-gray.
“Danielle,” he called out as gently as he could, “my name is Charles. I’m here to help you.”
Again there was rustling and he fought the urge to turn and look. He was a guest in the girl’s mind, she would not been seen unless she willed it so.
“You were kidnapped, Danielle,” he poured all the sorrow and sympathy he could into the words, “it must have been very scary. You must be very frightened right now,” then he smiled, seeping in images of the school, “but you’re safe now. You’ve been rescued and brought to my school. Once you wake up, we can take you back home, back to your parents, they’ve been looking for you.”
At the mention of her parents, a current moved through the fog, rippling it like water.
“Ma and dad are looking for me?” a small image appeared out of the corner of his line of sight.
“Yes, they are,” Charles nodded as the girl took shape, “I’m going to call them in a bit, tell them you’ve been found. I’m sure they’d love to hear your voice.”
“How long has it been?” she asked as her form became more clear, she was dressed much like any teenage girl, her long dark hair parted down the middle and braided on both sides.
“Nearly seven weeks,” he wasn’t going to lie, “but you’re safe now.”
“Seven weeks,” the words fell of her lips as if she was speaking in decades instead of weeks, but then for a fifteen year old, there wasn’t much of a difference. Her head snapped up, “You rescued me, from those men?”
“Not personally,” he admitted, “but you’re in my care now. You’re in the medical center of my school. You’re completely safe. No one can get to you here.”
Danielle let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders slumping as if she had just let go of the stress and anxiety of what happened.
“Come now,” he held out his hand to her, “let’s call your parents.”
“I’d like that,” the girl smiled and took his hand, but the moment she did so, she recoiled with a sharp intake of breath, stumbling backwards.
“Danielle?” he took a step forward as she retreated.
“So much… pain,” tears started to stream from her eyes, “fear, guilt, this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen,” she brought her hands to her face as she began to bawl, “what if he’s wrong, what if he’s right, what have you done…” Danielle looked him straight in the eyes, “what have you done?”
Charles was rooted where he stood, feeling all the emotions he usually kept buried bubble to the surface and they threatened to squeeze his heart until it collapsed into dust.
“Wait, Danielle,” he called to her as she turned and fled from him but it was too late, the damage was done.
Pulling out of the girl’s mind, Charles wiped the single tear that betrayed him from his cheek.
“Professor?” Jean was right there with Scott hovering.
“It seems our Miss Moonstar is a very strong empath,” he took a breath and backed away, clearing his head, “she inadvertently felt some of the lesser amenable emotions that we all carry with us, needless to say it did nothing to alleviate her fears.”
“You can’t go back in,” Jean said, “she’ll associate you with those memories.”
“I agree,” he nodded, still needing another moment to collect himself, “we will wait until her parents arrive, then you can take them in, that should draw her out.”
“I’ll check how the weather is,” Scott said, mercifully ignoring Charles’ distress, “there was a massive front moving in on the Jet Stream, I stayed in front of it but Colorado might be looking at blizzards.”
“We will all do what we can,” Charles told him, “and make this poor child as comfortable as possible until we can get her parents here, lord knows she’s been through enough.”
…
“Hey, Scott,” Doug stopped him in the hallway, “I finished going through those drives.”
“Oh good,” Scott had nearly forgotten about the hard drives Agent Duncan let them borrow from Bella-Agra, “were you able to recover anything.”
“A bit,” he frowned apologetically, “they were really damaged, like a ‘perfect storm’ of data corruption.”
“That would be Wanda Maximoff’s hex powers,” the woman coming back to the Acolyte team was going to make this even tougher for his team.
“I didn’t get anything that had tangible information like names or places,” the boy continued, “but I did find some medical data.”
“On the mutants?” he asked.
“I think so,” Doug shrugged, “just because my brain can automatically decrypt code and process other languages and things like that doesn’t actually mean I always understand what the words mean…”
The young man started to ramble about some of the words he saw, explaining about how he could break down the word into its root parts and extrapolate it, it still didn’t tell him what the enzyme actually does in the body.
Scott lost focus for a moment, something catching his attention out of the corner of his eye.
Standing at the end of the hall was a small figure, nothing more than a child dressed in a denim jacket…
Alex?
“Scott?” Doug waved his hand in front of Scott’s face and the image was gone, “you zoned out on me, sorry, I know I can ramble.”
“Huh?” he turned his attention back to Doug, “no, it’s okay, I just… I thought I saw something.”
Doug turned his head to look down the hallway, “What did you see?”
“Nothing,” Scott decided, “trick of the light, it’s been a really long day and I might have another tomorrow if I can fly out to Colorado.”
“Okay,” the kid thought nothing more of it, “I’ve already given a copy of the data to Jean, you can have Duncan pick up the drives anytime.”
“I’ll call him in the morning,” he decided, “thanks for your help.”
“Not a problem,” Doug gave him a half-salute, “night Teach.”
“Night, Doug,” Scott replied, still staring down the end of the hall where he thought he saw his dead brother.
He was just tired, his mind was playing tricks on him, had to be.
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