Restive Nature
Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: I in no way, shape or form own the characters of Dark Angel or X-Men or anything related to them. I simply like to play with them for a short while.
Timeline: This is a slightly AU story. It takes place more in Max’s timeline, with the pulse occurring. It begins after the episode ‘Blah Blah, Woof Woof" It doesn’t affect the X-men much, as Professor Xavier is affluent enough to afford the best in life. It also takes place after the first X-men movie, but as I haven’t seen the second one, I’ll leave that stuff alone.
Pairing M/L
Summary: Once again Max is on the run. But this time she is led to a safe haven.
Chapter Eleven
Once lunch had finished, the professor directed the students to take the afternoon off. Puzzled, the students made their way outdoors, or up to their respective rooms. While an afternoon off wasn’t entirely rare, the students knew it meant much more to the teachers. Specifically when it was an unscheduled afternoon such as this. Some of the older children that had been at the school longer than the others had an inkling of what was going on. The adults they labored under and learned from had turned their attention to a much more pressing issue. One that would hopefully be dealt with swiftly. And those teens waited to see if they’d again catch glimpses of their secret heroes in flight, many imagining themselves among the elite team known affectionately as the X-men.
Max realized at once, from the few veiled looks shared between Jean and the professor that they weren’t sure whether or not to invite her to the meeting. She took that decision from them by simply excusing herself after the meal and heading up to the room assigned to her. Just because she had decided to stay, didn’t mean she needed to get involved in their mission. She’d already done that with Eyes Only and look what it had gotten her. A big fat load of problems and not much else.
Logan was torn between following after the elusive woman he’d known for so short a time and joining the others. Charles had included him automatically, considering him a team member, whether Logan liked it or not. Logan had the sneaking suspicion that even were Max bored out of her mind up in her room, it would be a lot more fun than what they were on their way to discuss. He was the last to enter the study the professor used, both for teaching and research. He shut the door behind himself and moved to lounge against the wall near the massive bookcase.
"What’s going on?" Scott asked of his mentor, politely, casually interested.
Charles sighed as he settled himself in at his desk. He pulled up the information he’d received prior to lunch, finding that the pictures he’d been waiting for had finally come in. He looked them over carefully, his mind sweeping out to remember everything he’d gleaned from his powers in regards to the information he was about to impart. But nothing surfaced immediately. His hand hovered over the computer screen as he began to speak. "A contact of mine sent me a plea for help. Recently, there has been a spate of murders. All unsolved."
"A mutant?" Storm asked quietly. It was the first question on all their minds. Whether she meant a mutant killer, or a mutant dead, did not matter. In their solidarity, it affected them either way.
"It appears that the unspoken theory is that it is a mutant perpetrating these crimes," Charles spoke slowly, distastefully. As much as he’d hated to admit it, not all mutants believed as he did, that mutants and humans could live together in peace and prosperity. He glanced about the room, visually taking in their reactions, even as he let his other senses pick out the overriding feeling of interest and sadness pervading his children. "There’s more."
"There usually is," Logan grunted. For so long, the mutant issue hadn’t bothered him. He’d had enough to deal with just trying to make it to the next day without going completely insane.
"The authorities have established that the killer is following a certain set pattern in each of the murders," Charles continued.
"Serial killings?" Jean asked, on the same wavelength as her teacher. Charles nodded. "What…?" she trailed off, uncertain whether she really wanted details of not.
"It’s quite gruesome," Charles shuddered slightly, unable on some levels to deal with the atrocities people could commit on each other. "What has the authorities worried and upset is that apparently a normal human would be unable to kill in the manner the killer uses." He held a hand up to prevent the onslaught of questions. "The coroner’s all agree that the victims vertebrae are snapped… with one hand." He was quiet a moment as he let that sink in. He could see the revulsion on their faces. He had expected that. Quickly followed by the calculating musings. What mutants were they aware of that were that strong?
"Sabretooth," Logan grunted. He glanced about the room. "Are we sure he died?" They’d seen the mutant receive a devastating blow from Scott’s optic blast, throwing the mutant from the room they’d been trapped in. But no report of a body being recovered from the area below had been made. So there was one possibility.
Charles nodded once in Logan’s direction. It was something to consider. "There seem to be clues," he continued, when it seemed no one else had anything to offer. "The victims are all killed in the same manner. Displayed in the same manner. The victims’ teeth are all removed. And there is a certain tattoo applied in the same place on each of the victims." With a regretful shudder, he swung the monitor of his computer around, displaying the latest crime scene pictures his contact had managed to obtain. There were gasps of shock and revulsion at the graphic display of atrocity.
"What can we do?" Jean whispered. While disgusted by the sight before her, her analytical mind was cataloguing the injuries, making her own assessment of the cause of death. Applying what she knew of the human body to imagine the pain level the victim had endured before finding relief in death. "Can we search?" she asked hesitantly. The professor nodded.
"This last murder took place just outside of New York," he announced calmly, waiting for the inevitable slew of fury.
*****
Max reclined on her bed, slowly watching the hands of the clock ticking by. Her boredom was mounting. Her hand hovered over one of the many books she could have read, but it was all the same. She’d figure out the entire plot before the third chapter, sometimes the fourth and there was nothing but the overly familiar words of resolution at the end. Too many formulaic writers were finding work while the truly gifted writers were shunted off to the side. She grinned wryly at the thought of writing of her own impossible to believe life history. That would definitely be classified as science fiction, with heavy emphasis on the fiction. It was one thing for mutants to be out in the world. At least they’d started off as human and still retained that humanity, however much the common masses liked to argue.
She glanced out the window, wondering if she dared another ride on her baby. Or maybe she could borrow Scott’s ride. That was certainly a sweet piece of machinery. Making up her mind, she rose from the bed and was about to retrieve her coat from the closet, when a knock sounded at the door. She crossed to it swiftly, wondering if Logan was back to pester her some more. But she was pleasantly surprised. The young lady she’d seen at lunch, sitting a way down the table, with the strange white lock in her hair was waiting on the other side.
"Yeah?" she asked somewhat curtly. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t been made for inaction and it showed in her clipped words.
"Hey Max," Rogue smiled half-heartedly. She was still on the fence about this newcomer. She was older than all the other students were, though she didn’t seem as old as the teachers. She wasn’t in any of the classes and she’d stood up to Logan, Rogue’s hero. But, knowing how prickly said hero was Rogue could easily imagine that Logan had put his foot in it with the latest addition to the mansion. So she had decided to reserve judgement until she hopefully got to know the woman better.
"You’re… Marie, right?" Max searched her impeccable memory, knowing that she’d got the briefly mentioned name correct. The girl’s nod was unnecessary, but understandable.
"Yeah, I just came up to let you know that you have a delivery," Rogue informed her quickly. The other woman’s face lit up and Rogue stepped back to let her by.
Max pulled the door shut behind her, not bothering to lock it. She figured that if it was the television she’d been expecting she’d be right back up quickly enough. She followed Rogue down the steps; not worrying that the girl didn’t seem inclined to go her own way after delivering the message. She could see that the girl was curious about her. And so knowing that figured that accepting a delivery wasn’t going to give away anything important. Sometimes she really despised being so careful around others. Unable to let them in for fear that the secrets of her life would put them in danger. Or worse, get them killed. But somehow, she sensed that these kids, more than many others in the world understood and shared her reticence.
It was just her luck however that the little meeting between the teachers let out just as she made it to the door. She ignored the looks directed her way, wishing that they had something to entertain themselves with, preferably away from her. She focused her attention on the man lounging in the doorway, a bored look upon his face. "You Max Gueverra?" he asked as she neared him. She nodded and he held out the clipboard that he’d had dangling by his side. She signed and was about to hand it back, when she noticed the obvious leer the man was giving her. "Do ya want a hand with that?" he asked his voice low and probably what he considered suggestive. "A little lady like you might need help handlin’ a heavy box like that."
Max slammed the clipboard into his midsection; effectively cutting off any other suggestion he might make. "Yeah, I think I've got it," she snarled sarcastically. The guy shrugged as he caught sight of Logan, standing somewhat protectively behind her. He slipped out the door, dragging the dolly behind him and they all heard the delivery van retreat. Logan was about to offer a hand when Max hefted the package as if it were a box of tissues. She climbed the steps to her room, Logan right behind her. Surprisingly, he moved ahead of her, politely opening her door for her so she wouldn’t have to juggle the box or set it down.
But before she could get the door shut, he was in her room, looking down at the package. "Oh sorry," he grinned at her apologetically. His mind raced to come up with an excuse as to why he was there. Despite the outcome of each of their little thrust and parries, this woman still extraordinarily intrigued him. And he needed a distraction from the grueling images he’d just seen. "Um, the professor wanted to make sure it was for you," he offered lamely, almost wanting to smack himself at his sudden ineptitude.
"Well, since it has my name on it, and I was expecting it," she drawled. "Then yeah, I think it’s for me."
"Oh…," his curiosity was still flaring, getting the better of him. "What is it?"
She simply grinned up at him and ripped open the tape covering the opening. He helped her extricate the set and moved the box out of her way as she set the television down on the bed. She quickly repositioned things on the table next to the door and lifted the set onto it.
"You know," Logan grinned, watching her. "We do have one of those downstairs."
"Yeah, but I don’t want to interfere with the school day," she explained again. "This way, I can watch, day or night and not have to worry about fighting over the shows."
"Yeah, that’s right," Logan recalled. "You don’t sleep much."
"Not really," she remarked. She picked up her waist pack and donned it, preparing to head out again. "All I need now it some popcorn."
"We have some microwave stuff in the kitchen," he informed her, his words nearly tumbling over each other. "You know, for those late night cravings. You don’t need to buy any. Or are you going to buy a microwave too?"
"That would be great, wouldn’t it?" Max laughed. "Have my own personal paradise right in this room. Of course, I'd have to get a mini fridge, stock it with a nice import beer. Then I’d have to get one of those shiatsu chairs. Replace the bathtub with a hot tub instead. Mmm, heaven."
"You drink beer?" Logan demanded, laughing as well, even as he tried to push images of Max glistening, wet, not clad in much of anything at all out of his mind. At her puzzled look, he went on. "I thought you’d be more of a wine lover."
"Oh, I’ll drink wine," she chuckled. "But beer is a wee bit more affordable."
"I know what you mean," he sighed. "There’s a lot of things that are different these days." Unbidden, an image of the mutant’s victim came to mind. "And some things will never change." For violence, in whatever form, was still violence. And that he knew on much more intimate levels than he was ready to share.
But Max was slightly more intuitive than the majority of the people she normally surrounded herself with. She noticed right away, the distance in his eyes as he spoke. "Hey," she murmured, softening slightly at Logan’s pained expression, wondering what could have caused it. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he muttered, trying to push the image out of his head. It was something of a technique he’d developed over the years. Unfortunately it didn’t work as well when the images were of what he believed to be his past. "Just some crap you don’t want to deal with."
"Oh?" Even though he might have believed she wouldn’t care, Max never was able to let up her self-preservation mode. For her own sanity, the need to stay out of Manticore, she couldn’t let up. Logan eyed her speculatively. Again, the idea that this woman was a mutant in denial came to him. Perhaps this was just the information he’d been looking for to get her to admit it.
"Yeah, Xavier came across a mutant who’s been killing humans," he offered as nonchalantly as he could, keeping his eyes glued to her, ready to gather and interpret any reaction he could from her. All he got was a disinterested nod. He sighed. "Nothing for you to worry about, I guess."
"I guess."
His gaze fell to the floor, wondering what else he could say that would get her interest. And then the words flew from his mouth. "So, did you still want to go to that club that Scott mentioned?"
Chapter Twelve
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