Title: The Glory Of Manticore
Author: Restive Nature
Rating: up to 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.
Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.
Pairing: M/L
Chapter Nineteen
Jean had been quiet in the cab ride over, Max noted. She'd been staring out the window, barely noticing the traffic, so inured, it seemed, to the sights, that they passed by, uncommented on. She had taken the trouble to hail the cab, chatting amicably with Max while they waited. But once they were in and had a quick discussion about where to shop, with Max deferring to Jean's more recent familiarity of the city, and then she had fallen silent.
Not that Max minded, as she was a little preoccupied herself. She'd been scoping the city since they had first pulled in earlier. Being only twenty miles from Westchester, it was a little close for fencing stolen items, but it was a large enough mecca that it would be all right.
But so far, Max hadn't picked up any of the clues she was familiar with as to where they were operating. But then, with the hotel that Scott had chosen and the fact that Jean had directed the cab driver to a little boutique a ways off 5th Avenue to do some shopping at, Max figured the area was too high class to pick up any law breaking, overt or otherwise. She sighed internally as she was trying to figure out how to get out of all the group activities she was sure this group had planned to entertain her. Maybe she'd be able to ditch Logan that evening for a little while. Or if worse came to worse, she could always head out after the others had gone to sleep. It wasn't at all unusual for Max to be out and about on her motorcycle. She did however, find it interesting that the sector Police that she had grown used to on the West coast were much more lax here. And more so than she recalled when she had visited the city when she was younger. But perhaps, since the threat had developed on the other side of the country, New York had gone about the business of rebuilding with it's usual aplomb, allowing it's denizens to once more police themselves to a degree.
Whatever it was, Max appreciated not having to wear a sector pass, to be able to come and go just when and how she pleased. That would make her little mission that much easier.
At long last, the cab driver pulled over to the curb and with a lack of joie de vrie that people seemed to go out of their way to portray cabbie as having, simply announced the total. Jean already had the cash in hand and was passing it over the partition with a murmured, “keep the change.” The cab driver did tip his hat before stuffing the money in a lock box and writing something on a clipboard, even as with his other hand, he was reaching for the cb radio that was squawking now.
Jean exited the cab first and Max followed closely after, having made up her mind that she would worry about finding a semi-reputable fence later. The redhead ahead of her was taking up too much of her thoughts to allow Max to concentrate on much else. It was when Jean almost walked into an old parking meter, that Max felt she should say something. After she had of course, steered the other woman around it.
“Is everything okay Jean?” she asked with a modicum of concern. She might not be besties with the woman, but that didn't mean she wanted to see her get hurt.
“Hmm?” Jean seemed to come back to herself, the faraway look in her eyes clearing up. “What was that?”
“Is everything okay?” Max repeated, slower this time, watching Jean's eyes carefully for any signs that there was a problem, or trouble.
Jean opened her mouth and Max was sure that she was going to protest, but then she closed it with an audible pop and chuckled. “I'm sorry Max,” she apologized softly. “I was kind of half expecting this.”
“Expecting what?” Max was puzzled. Jean shook her head, glancing down the street, and not quite sure what Jean was worrying over, except perhaps exposing some part of herself to the passers by, took the other woman's elbow and manuevered them closer to the building itself. Jean made no protest and actually seemed appreciative as there was a small break in the pedestrian traffic.
“Several months ago,” Jean explained swiftly and quietly as Max leaned in a little closer, “something happened and I really had to... test my limits.” Max nodded, realizing that she was referring to her telepathic abilities. “Unfortunately, sine then, I've been having trouble, well, putting the walls back up. As you well know.”
“Ah,” was all Max said. She glanced to her right, seeing another gaggle of teens progressing towards them, and immediately turning back when Jean winced. “They're um, being loud?”
“Like a bullhorn,” Jean muttered and then laughed. She looked down at Max's face. “You know how everything sounds perfectly clear when you're a good distance away, but if you're right beside the person using it, it's kind of distorted and staticky?” Max nodded, remembering several occasions when Normal had broken out his old trusty. And with her transgenic hearing amplifying sounds that normal humans couldn't hear, well she could certainly empathize with that. “And then you take that being with every person, they've each got their own bullhorn, and it's getting a little...”
“Migraine in the making?” Max asked sympathetically and Jean shook her head.
“Already there.”
“I'm sorry,” it was Max's turn to wince. “We can go back if you want?”
Jean shook her head in the negative. “No, it wouldn't be any better.” She sighed. “The professor and I have been working on it again, but we're not making much headway, dealing with this.”
“What have you been trying?” Max asked with interest, wondering how two psychics would calm the raging sea around them. “If you don't mind me asking.”
“The professor has been trying to find, well, I guess the right frequency would be the best way to explain it,” Jean offered, biting at her lower lip as her brows furrowed, trying to find an acceptable explanation. “The right frequency in my mind so that I can filter properly.” She smiled at Max's puzzled look. “Too high and I get nothing. Too low and I bust right through it naturally.”
“Okay,” Max nodded, “what else?”
“Um,” Jean seemed surprised by the question. “Nothing really.”
“So you don't like, I don't know, do meditation exercises or something? I don't know,” she chuckled, slightly embarrassed at feeling out of her depths with the topic matter.
“I haven't had to do that since I was a child and that stuff first started,” Jean admitted with a rueful laugh. “I've moved beyond that. Or at least I thought I had,” she muttered. Max nodded again.
“Okay, well first things first,” she decided, taking Jean's arm again. “Let's get away from the crowd as best we can. Then you can do a little quiet reflection if possible. If that doesn't work, we can always try something else. Okay?”
“All right,” Jean agreed, feeling desperate to get away. She hadn't told Max the complete truth. Yes, she'd been having a little difficulty with her telepathy and with her telekinesis since the events at Liberty Island those months ago. But this time, this day, she had brought it on herself. Since the news had come in about the possible mutant serial killer had cropped up, Jean and Charles had decided that they would use this trip to New York to try and suss out some preliminary information. Charles had warned her against her initial plan, but Jean had stupidly been stubborn enough to go through with it. She had opened herself up, letting random things roll through her mind from other people, tuning her mind to certain key words in hopes that it would help them pinpoint a location to start looking in, especially as Charles had had no luck using Cerebro.
And now Jean was paying for the folly of being the stubborn redhead that usually served her in good stead.
But it was a blessed relief in ways, once Max had opened the door and led Jean inside where there were so many fewer people hanging around. Once the door closed, it was like something muted the majority of the voices swirling around her mind. Jean realized that her relief must have been audible by the indulgent smile on Max's face. They were immediately approached by a saleswoman, smiling widely and Jean tensed up as the expectation seemed to roll off of her.
“Good afternoon ladies,” she greeted genially. “How may I help you today?” Thankfully Max took control immediately, saving Jean the inconvenience.
“Hello,” Max smiled widely. “I hope you don't mind, my friend has developed a bit of a headache on our way here. Car fumes, you know,” she explained blithely, lying through her teeth and Jean was amused at how easily the woman was eating it up. “Is there anywhere she might have a quiet moment, perhaps a glass of water?”
The woman nodded and gestured back to the dressing rooms, Jean knew, having frequented this boutique before. Jean and Max followed after her and Jean took a seat on the velvety upholstered chair in one of the cubicles while the young lady hurried to retrieve her some water.
“This okay?” Max asked quietly. Jean nodded, knowing that this was about the best she could get at the moment. “Hey, I was thinking,” she began hesitantly and Jean glanced up, “if those techniques from when you were younger worked, why not try them again? You know, work your way up.”
“I suppose,” Jean sighed. “It couldn't hurt.” Max nodded and stepped back to let the girl through with the water.
“Okay,” Max was all smiles again, including the saleslady in her carefree seeming manner that Jean knew was a cover. “I'm going to look around a little and I'll check on you in a few, okay?” Jean nodded and Max pulled the curtain close, further muting the other minds and Jean raised the icy cold glass to her forehead. Simple meditation. If only it were so simple.
It was perhaps half an hour and Jean was amazed to see that Max's suggestion had actually worked. It had taken some attention and concentration, but eventually, she had gotten herself under control again. Perhaps it stood to reason in a manner of thinking logically.
Jean was so used to just being at the level that she was at. But like a pitcher that choked, or a football player that flubbed an easy kick, and she really needed to stop watching the sports channel with Scott, she was over thinking the steps she already knew. Going back to basics, to what came naturally now that she didn't have to think about, she was able to get a modicum of relief that allowed her to step it up again.
After resting a little and feeling instinctively that she was in much better shape now than she had been when she'd first entered the store, she stood from the chair to find Max and at least thank her. She passed the saleswoman that had helped her and murmured a thank you to the woman as she handed her back the almost empty glass of water. As she pushed the curtain to the change room aside to duck underneath, she noted that there was still a hum in the back of her mind. Thankfully muted from the roar that it had been. And while not thrilled with it, it was much more manageable.
She found Max at a rack of minidresses, musing over them, while she already had one or two items slung over her arm. She noted Jean's approach before the redhead could say anything.
“Doing better?” she asked quietly and Jean nodded.
“That's really cute,” Jean smiled, gesturing at the dress Max had pulled out. Black and white swirling patterns.
“Not really my style,” Max mused. “But my old roommate, she'd love it.”
“The flamboyant kind?” Jean asked, though it was not said unkindly.
“Throw sex pot and totally kind hearted into that and it's Kendra in a nutshell,” Max agreed, letting the dress settle back into the mass of clothing around it. “I did find some things for myself, though.” She held up a burgundy colored top, that while it had some thin straps to hold it up, had off the shoulder ruffles. Max had paired it with some dark black jeans and Jean nodded.
“Those would be nice if you and Logan are serious about just hanging out instead of joining us at the theater,” Jean noted. She had to hide her smile at Max's face screwing up in a perturbed look. She turned her attention to the rack of clothing as well, pulling out various dresses that caught her attention.
“The theater just ain't my bag o' fun,” Max chuckled. “One of my old friends,” and here she didn't mention her old mentor Moody, who had been the leader of the gang that she'd been part of back in Los Angeles in her younger days, “always said that I had no patience for the finer things in life because I was always too on the go, living my own.”
“I can understand that,” Jean nodded, musing over a blue outfit.
“But I mean,” Max continued, thinking of all the times that Logan Cale had plied her with food and wine and certain material incentives to continue working for him aside from her day job, “there are certain perks that come with the high life that I don't mind. For the majority of it though, count me out. Give me some clean clothes, a place to rest my head and money for beer and skittles and I'm good.”
“What about your motorcycle?” Jean asked suddenly, mirthful as she quirked a smile at the brunette.
“Ha, me and my baby are a package deal,” Max snorted softly as she fingered the price tags on the items she already held.
“Kind of 'love me, love my ride',” Jean could fully understand. With Scott's predilection for working over any vehicle he could get his hands on, she had an idea of what she was speaking of.
“Yup,” Max agreed quickly. “Gimme those things and I'm as happy as a pig in mud.” She thought at first that Jeans laughter was from her antiquated simile but the woman shook her head.
“That sounds remarkably like Logan,” she noted. “He doesn't mind swinging by the mansion for a meal or shower or somewhere to rest, but before long, his legs get restless.”
“A real highwayman, huh?” Max smiled. Jean, knowing better than to go spilling things that she wasn't sure if Logan had shared with her or not, refrained from commenting that he was out and about looking for any clues he could find of his past. “Well, I'm gonna go try these on.”
“Okay,” Jean smiled and knowing with feminine intuition this time that Max would not need or solicit her opinion on her clothing, remained behind to continue rummaging through the latest offerings. It was only minutes later that she had several items of her own and had followed after Max.
She had just shown her pickings to the salesgirl and was admitted once more to the change room as Max stepped out from the cubicle she'd chosen in the outfit and was looking pretty nice. A little step up from what she had lounged around the mansion in, from what Jean had seen.
“That looks really good,” Jean scanned the other woman's body with a critical eye. “Although, do you have boots? Because otherwise you're going to be walking those hems off.”
“I do,” Max nodded calmly as she smoothed the hem of the shirt. She twisted around to look in the full length mirror while Jean chose another cubicle. “So, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you been at the school?”
“I was invited to attend when I was just a child,” Jean told her as she pulled the curtain shut and began the process of changing into the first outfit. “Scott and Storm, as well as some others that have since moved on made up one of the first classes that Charles offered.”
“And it's just expanded since then, huh?”
“We recruit,” Jean explained, “and there's also been some word of mouth from our attending student's family member's if they know of other children that meet our entry criteria.” She heard Max's chuckle and realized that she was quite aware of the code words that Jean was using.
“And then of course are the ones that we find and... rescue,” Jean continued. “Like Logan and Rogue, or Kurt,” she finished and then added as an after thought. “Although we didn't so much rescue Kurt as just gave him an alternative that he couldn't say no to.”
“Well, at least they've all found a place where they can be safe and feel accepted,” Max commented, ignoring the lump in her throat that the thought evoked. She deliberately turned her mind away from that. “So Logan really had to be rescued?” she chuckled, remembering that he had mentioned that before. “Something tells me that that didn't sit well with him.”
Jean, still behind the curtain of her cubicle did not have to hide her smile as Max's attention kept turning back to the enigmatic loner. “It didn't,” she replied, her voice slightly muffled as she pulled the dress over her head. When it was clear, she revealed, “especially as it was Scott that was the one doing the rescuing.”
“So they knew each other before?” Max asked and since her voice had moved, Jean supposed she had gone to remove the outfit she had tried on.
“No,” Jean shook her head. “They just didn't like each other right from the start, though I think I had a part to play in that, to a degree.”
“Oh, how so?”
Jean sighed. “Well, when I was... examining Logan after his accident, I have to admit that I was quite fascinated with his physiology and of course Scott... took it the wrong way.”
“Jean?” the other woman drawled and Jean could hear the amusement in her tone. “Were you being inappropriate with your patient?” She was sure that Max was teasing even as she blushed. Because... well, Logan was a very virile man.
“No!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she denied. “I mean... no!” She took a moment to calm herself. “I meant, when I was examining his x-rays, and then, then I showed him up to his room and we were talking about his memory loss and he asked... He asked!”
There was a very heavy silence and Jean grimaced, wondering what was going through Max's mind, because she knew that things would be much worse in many ways, if she tried to look for herself.
“I'm waiting,” Max finally laughed. “He asked what?”
“Oh,” Jean was slightly surprised. “He asked me to read his mind. After I gave him a demonstration of my other... power,” her voice lowered for obvious reasons.
“So what's so wrong with that?” Max pondered. Jean took a moment to straighten out the dress that she'd managed to get on and zip it up before she stepped out of the cubicle.
“Scott walked in,” Jean sighed. “I was quite startled with all the confusing images and a little off balance and Logan, of course he wanted to know what had happened. What I... saw.”
“Was it... no never mind,” Max began. “None of my business.” She emerged then, dressed in her street clothes and smiled hesitantly at Jean. “That's coolio.”
Jean glanced down at herself consideringly and then turned to the mirror. “It is nice. I think Scott would like it.” The hemline was slightly shorter than she was used to wearing, but her legs were nothing to be ashamed of. She put in the definitely to consider pile in her mind.
“So I take it Scott taking things wrong, were ones you just mentioned?” Max continued their conversation. Jean nodded.
“Sort of,” Jean shrugged. “I mean, yes, I have... had a little crush on Logan,” she admitted with another blush, and she caught Max's eyebrow quirk up at that, “and he made overtures a few times, but I love Scott.” The simple admission was one that had Max nodding her head. “And it's not like I'm alone in the Logan crush club,” Jean chuckled. She could see in the mirror as Max tilted her head consideringly. “It seems like every female at the school that's experienced puberty has crushed on him. He is really...”
Max started laughing at that, but Jean thought she heard a note of force behind it. She wondered why that was.
“Yeah, he is really... something,” Max finally agreed.
“And I mean, thinking logically about it,” Jean went on, “it makes sense, our... crushes. You know smart girl and bad boy. I mean, they made bad teenage angsty movies about it, right?”
“I suppose,” Max agreed quietly.
“And besides,” Jean went on, wondering if she had inadvertently made Max feel bad about herself, which had not been her desire at all, “after you showed up, Scott seemed to think he had nothing to worry about anymore.”
“How so?” Max asked, her face definitely showing her confusion.
“Well, in all his time that we've known him,” Jean smirked, “Logan isn't really the type to stick around. And while he, like I said, made his interest known to me, he never really made an effort to get to know me beyond surface things. With you, he's stuck around, chased after you, defended you and spent more time with you than anyone aside from Rogue, who he's very close to. Like an uncle or older brother, with Rogue. You? Not so much.” Jean frowned as she wondered if that made sense to the other woman. “And then of course, there's the confusion and the defensiveness and the jumpiness when he's around you.”
She heard a very definitive, yet dainty snort from the other woman. “That's just cause he can't figure out what makes me tick.”
“Exactly,” Jean smirked. “He's getting' a little crazy, if you know what I mean?”
“Not really,” Max shook her head. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”
“You'll see,” Jean chuckled. “Because you know, I may be a doctor and a burgeoning telepath, but that does not mean I've cornered the market on sanity. As you've seen yourself.”
“True that,” Max chuckled. “All right, you ready?”
“Yeah,” Jean smiled at her reflection. She was ready.
*****
Later, in the evening, Max was taking a moment to herself. She and Jean had both purchased their chosen outfits from that sweet little boutique and then had done some more window shopping. It was a relief that their chat had done them some good and Max had been able to relax a little more around the woman. But the things that Jean had told her about Logan had continued to swirl around her mind. Was all this that she was feeling, was it just like the others... just a crush?
Because truth to tell, she didn't really know all that much about Logan. Yes, she reacted viscerally to his body, his, as Jean put it, virility. And he'd had a reaction to her as well. But just because their bodies seemed to like one another didn't mean much. That was just biology and it could be ignored. She knew that. And what would happen if Logan had ever found out the truth about her. Being a mutant was one thing. Being a freak experiment created in a lab with bits and pieces of animal sliced in for fun, was completely another. Mutants were obviously supposed to exist, since their mutations came from within, from their own advancing genome. Max couldn't claim that.
If there was one experience that she never wanted to actually experience, it was that of seeing someone she cared for, learning the truth about her and turning away. Of looking at her like the trainers had when they were younger. Like they were something... sub par or horrific. It cut too close and once again she resolved to keep her secret as well as she was able. Though, knowing that with the powers these mutants exhibited around her, she may not be entirely successful in that. She could only hope that they would respect her privacy and keep it to themselves.
She heard the knock at her hotel door and moved to answer it. It was Logan on the other side and she gave him a tight smile. She was startled only a little as his eyes drank her in and upon reaching her face again, had softened. His eyes were dark as he regarded her and she felt a small shiver run up her back. Despite looking so relaxed, there was something primely predatory about this man before her.
“Hey,” he greeted, slouching against her door frame. “You ready?”
“Yeah,” Max nodded. “Just let me grab my coat.”
She turned away and moved over to the sofa, where she had thrown her coat over the back after returning from her and Jean's shopping trip. She could feel his eyes on her and that little shiver wasn't leaving.
“You look real nice tonight,” he complimented quietly as she straightened up with the jacket in hand. Max bit at her lip and then smoothed her face out as she turned to rejoin him. She glanced over his chosen outfit as well. Dark blue jeans, and his usual layered t-shirt under a long sleeved shirt with a leather jacket over top. But the shirt seemed more crisp than usual.
“You too,” she returned and then gestured to his shirt. “That new?”
“Yeah,” he nodded as he plucked at the material. “Marie thought I needed some new stuff. Pretty much what I would have chosen for myself,” he shrugged. “So I figured why not?”
“Marie?” she questioned. “That's Rogue's name?” she recalled and Logan nodded again. She pulled her jacket on and made sure that she still had her key card as Logan pulled her door shut for her. And like Jean had said earlier, Rogue had been one of the ones with a crush on Logan, though to Max's eye it was heavily mixed in with some hero worship.
They continued to make small talk as they headed to the elevator, to meet Scott and Jean in the lobby. When they reached the ground floor and found the other couple close by, Max was startled at the knowing grins the other couple were throwing her way. She noticed that Logan had barely glanced at them before turning back to her to ask her opinion of the city so far. She murmured something noncommittal as they all continue walking to the front door. Jean, just ahead of her, smiled at her boyfriend and then threw Max a wink over her shoulder before turning to face forward again.
Max turned her face up to see that Logan was grinning down at her and she had to ask him to repeat what he had just said. He chuckled and told her that he he had asked if she had changed her mind about the theater or was she still of a like mind as he.
“Theater schmeater,” she groaned, “so not my bag. Already told Jean that this afternoon.”
“All right,” Logan nodded as he took the door where Scott was holding it for Jean. “After you,” he offered and Max had the sense that he was being polite, but also using the moment to check out her ass. Guys usually did, especially when she showcased it in skintight jeans like she was wearing that night.
And as she swiftly twisted her head around to catch him at it and let loose a chuckle when he leveled a wicked grin at her, not at all embarrassed at being caught, she decided that it didn't matter. Who cared what Jean said about crushes. She was allowed, right? She might not have the smart chick vibe like Jean did that had attracted her share of male admirers. But just like some guys liked that, there were plenty of guys into the bad girl. And that's exactly what Max could be.
A kick ass girl with the heart of gold, she mused. And it seemed to work, if she'd held his attention this long. And as she felt Logan's broad hand on the small of her back, as a cab pulled over at Scott's waving behest, she decided that she could be perfectly happy with that.
Chapter Twenty
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