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Chapter 5: First Impressions


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early Morning…


“I need to go to the Bahamas…” Dr. Jean Grey muttered to her self as she watched the sun kissed bodies dancing across the sand during the advertisement. Television commercials were a wonderful thing, for a brief instant they could make it appear that all the joy and the excitement that you were missing in your life could be found if you bought their product or joined their activities.

After a brief look to the stocky unconscious body on the cool medical slab that was surrounded by the dull sterile grays of the observation room, she honestly was having second thoughts about her present choice of profession. Jean gnawed on her bottom lip as a sudden idea hit her. She always was good at writing; perhaps she could just say “Screw the doctrine,” move out to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere and start writing romance novels like the ones Kitty loved so much.

She then briefly wondered if it would be considered abusing her powers if she simply convinced, Scott to suddenly take her on a trip to the Bahamas. Not a moment after the thought was conceived that the quiet mental voice of Professor Xavier echoed to her, ‘Yes, it would be.’ The woman pouted at her hopes dashed.

“Looks like the Bahamas is out…” she said to herself. She smiled to herself, hearing the Professor chuckling in the back of her thoughts. The young women sighed while pushing a lock of her scarlet hair out of her face. After wishing the Professor good night, she decided her present state of mind was probably due to sleep, or lack there of to be honest.

The young Doctor had flown in from Washington earlier that day after spending the weekend in conference with Kenneth Jacobson, a young politician that the Professor had made acquaintances with a few years ago. The two of them were paired up against long time conservative Senator Kelly, over the Mutant Issue that was growing more prevalent each day.

After two days of heated debate, the two parties still were not able to come to a resolution. She did take pleasure in noticing that the political voices that used to be behind Kelly have been reducing in numbers. Either they now were undecided on the Mutant Issue or they had fully joined her search to find an alternative solution. Armed with that small victory, she and Kenneth made the plane trip home.

That being said, after going over their notes while on the plane and the long exhausting, (traffic-filled) car ride from the airport, Jean was looking to her’s and Scott’s king size bed like a starving man looked to a steak dinner. She soundly decided that she would sleep in late the following morning, especially since the first of her classes didn’t start till after noon anyway.

The flame haired telepath managed to get four full hours of REM sleep, before she received the Professor’s emergency call to prep the medical bay. Inwardly she wanted to grumble and throw a fit, but the severity of the injuries Charles revealed to her stamped down any inner protest, the mantle of Doctor falling into place. …And she was having one of the nicest dreams too.

An hour later the Blackbird arrived back to the school but the state of emergency was reduced because it seemed during the duration of the flight most of the patient’s wounds seemed to heal themselves, which lead to the theory that their mystery guest had an accelerated healing ability. Jean then saw to the young girl that accompanied him. After a full examination, not to mention a few questions asked about the origins of the injuries she did have, they settled the girl in one of the girl’s suites with Kitty and Jubilee for the night and then everyone turned their attention to the still recuperating mutant.

They had found out from the girl that Sabertooth had ambushed the two of them in the night, but her companion, a guy she only knew as Logan, fought him off and brought the fight to Sabertooth toe-to-toe. Apparently Logan would have finished him off if it weren’t for the Blackbird’s untimely entrance. Scott didn’t hide his amazement at the feat. They’ve all had run-ins with Sabertooth at one point or another, to actually turn the tides on the sadistic mutant after being taking off-guard was an affirmation to this Logan guy’s skill.

Jean managed to perform a brief examination, through which the patient still remained unresponsive. Ororo mentioned that during the take-off, he had regained consciousness temporarily, but then passed out for the remainder of the flight. Jean’s examination revealed an alarming discovery; it seemed Logan’s whole skeletal structure was grafted with adamantium an alloy that was virtually indestructible. Whether or not the adamantium was an addition mutant power was still debatable, but from the readings she was able to perform, Jean doubted that seriously.

After her brief examination was concluded, Jean promptly ushered both Ororo and Scott away since they had morning classes to teach and it wasn’t necessary for all of them to be up. Instead she decided to stay up the night and watch over their new guest. Now the young doctor sighed again while rubbing her eyes.

Jean wondered now what the heck she was thinking, abandoning her lovely dream for observation duties. If she tried really hard she could still remember bits and pieces of the fantasy. She was laid out on a tropical island, drinking Pina Coladas that were swerved by a Swedish god named Sven. There Jean was being waited on hand and foot, enjoying the sun while watching two of her favorite actors, Hugh Jackman and James Marsden fight to the death for her honor, wearing nothing more than a loincloth, sweat and the skin they were in. Although she would have admitted Logan was kind of cute in a roguish sort of away, but he was no Hugh Jackman.

“I’m in desperate need of more coffee,” she grumbled to herself, rubbing her tired eyes for the umpteenth time this morning. Her green eyes took one quick glance towards the still resting mutant and shrugged. Taking five minutes to get another caffeine rush couldn’t hurt. Switching off the television the redhead hurried down the hall to the elevator.

OoOoOo

His nose was the first thing active.

He’s in a room that reeks of disinfectants and the stench of artificial cleaners. A hospital. He hated hospitals. The Beast in him grumbles. He briefly catches the brusque metallic scent of instruments and surgical equipment. His palm then feels the cool metal slab of the examination table beneath him. The combination of the two causes him to snaps his eyes open in alert. For an instant the effervescent florescent lightning is overwhelming, blinding his eyes, but his pupils quickly adjust dimming the intensity.

His steel gray eyes dart around clean swept room. He spots the various scanners, medical instruments and an assortment tray of surgical tools. The scene is sickly all too familiar. Suddenly he’s transported to that night many years ago. He doesn’t know how any of them managed to survive the Beast’s wrath, but this time he plans on finishing the job.

He notices his captors were negligent enough not to restrain him to the bed. An error or judgment he plans to exploit.

His limber legs swing over the edge of the table. He lands in a crouch on the balls of his feet, muffling the sound. His ears twitch trying to catch the faintest sound of an alarm being tripped but all he hears is silence. His nose then flares trying to catch a whiff of any enemies that might be hiding in wait. As far as he knows, he’s alone, meaning a lax in surveillance; he’ll exploit that too.

He dashes; two quick steps bring him to the nearby wall. He presses his body close as he peers into the hallway. More of the metallic gray corridors, although it seemed in the middle of this hallway there was an exit. A chrome convex panel wheels around unveiling an elevator door, which in that instant had swung open. He darts by quickly falling against a glass case that held different variations of sweats and t-shirts, all adorned with the letter “X” as their label.

For a moment he considers donning one, but the rhythmic clicking of high heels draws his attention. He sees a crimson haired woman returning to the room where he just fled. He briefly considers taking her down now lessening their numbers, but at the last minute he refrains. He’s in foreign territory with an unknown enemy. Evasion and escape are his best options.

Instead he waits till she rounds the corner before he approaches the elevator. He manages to slide inside the pathway, just as the door closes. A quick jab to the panel lifts the elevator to the ground floor.

OoOoOo

“Professor!” Jean Grey mentally cried when she returned to the empty sickbay. She swore herself she would only be gone five minutes, how can a grown man completely vanish in five minutes.

‘I know Jean,’ Xavier’s calm mental reply returned, ‘it would appear our guest is slightly disorientated from his ordeal. ’ She noticed although the Professor’s tone was relaxed there was slight hint of warning in his words.

‘What do we do?’ she inquired.

‘I will lead him directly to me,’ Xavier quickly continued before Jean could protest the rashness of his decision, ‘Notify Scott and Ororo and standby,” he instructed, ‘I’d like a word with him for a moment, then the three of you come to my office.’

OoOoOo

The Wolverine continued to prowl around the strange location. He was little more than a shadow in the doorway, the darkness in the dawn. All the while the scent of youth and innocence paraded around the place that it almost made him light-headed. Logan, a man that was used to all the rough and dirty dives that Canada had to offer was puzzled by such purity.

The Wolverine continued through a long corridor that opened out to a grand staircase, which appeared to lead to the upper levels of the facility. He briefly considered venturing up, when he felt a strange presence emerge from behind him. Relying on instinct more than his senses, he quickly whirled on his heel, six adamantium blades summoned to his side in an instant.

Standing before the Wolverine was a simple old man, six feet tall in height. He was bald, clean-shaven and immaculately dressed. It seemed everything he was attired in was tailor made, from the Armani suit he was wearing to the dark John Lobb shoes on his feet. The older man smiled. His clear blue eyes bore the weight of many years of patience and something that the Wolverine wasn’t very familiar with, kindness. His was a face that had known years of sadness and even more years of joy. “Good morning Logan,” the old man’s rich voice began, “I am Professor Charles Xavier.”

For the time it took the old man to recite his name, the Beast nearly sprung into action against the stranger. But Logan, the man keenly held it in check, a strange vein of curiosity taking over him, “I ain’t smell ya comin’ or heard a footstep,” he rumbled, “What tha hell is this?”

Xavier continued that honest smile never leaving his face, “I’m speaking to you directly to your mind,” the older man then raised his arms motioning to himself, “What you see before you is a mental image I am projecting of myself.”

The Wolverine’s lip curled as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “Git outta my head!” the Wolverine grunted, six blades of indestructible adamantium fanning his side, preparing if he had to strike.

Xavier paused, a frown adorn his face for the first time, “I’m sorry if my appearing to you this way upsets you. But please understand, you’re currently in my school for children like ourselves, a school for Mutants. I just didn’t want needless bloodshed over a simple misunderstanding.” At this the Wolverine’s temper eased a bit. “I’d like to talk to you face-to-face, if you wouldn’t mind.” Logan considered the offer for a minute. He then merely shrugged, the sound of ‘SHAKT!’ echoed as he sheathed his claws. He saw no reason to refuse. Worst came to worst, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d have to fight his way out of a place.

Xavier instantly brightened from his decision; “Very good, now just follow my image to the door to your right.”

OoOoOo

The red oak door opened to large room of the headmaster. A small fire was burning from a fireplace. The room was evenly lit giving it a cozy somewhat comfortable feel. Mounted around the room was an expansive library of books and various degrees. In the center of the room was a large oak desk where Charles Xavier patiently waited.

Xavier’s nicely groomed suit and tie was a stark contrast to Logan’s attire, whose hairy broad body was bare to the waist. Only a dark pair of loose sweat pants adorned his frame with bare feet sprouting from the pants cuffs. Despite his drab state of dress, the older man didn’t cast any ill-favored looks his way or cast his vision aside.

“Hello again Logan,” the old man greeted, he then moved from behind the desk. A powered wheelchair guided him out till he was placed beside a small table. “Would you like some breakfast?” the older man offered toward the steaming plates that had a plethora of eggs, waffles, sausages and various other morning dishes.

Logan regarded the table briefly, but his steel gray eyes instantly returned to Xavier, not bending in the slightest. Accepting the refusal for what it was; Xavier decided to move along. “Logan, I know you must have many questions and I hope to answer as many as I can. I would also like to introduce you to some associates of mine.”

The door behind Logan creaked open again. At the sound he turned on his heels, eyes sharp and ready, fists clenched to his sides out of pure instinct, ready to face whatever awaited him. Instead what he saw were a pair of warm green eyes that welcomed him.

The green eyes were a prelude to the voluminous locks of her scarlet hair. Instantly he recognized the redhead from before. The faint clean hint of the chemicals she usually worked with mixed in with her natural scent of vanilla. A dark blouse clung to her chest with a gray skirt entrapping her slender legs that seemed to flow around her as she walked. The sharp click of her pumps echoed through the room as she moved. She was a knockout, that’s all he had to say, slender and soft in all the right places.

They briefly made eye contact, but her green eyes quickly looked away under the strength behind his stare. He chuckled silently to himself from the implications. That one might be a little bit of fun later on.

Following closely behind her was young man with dark brown hair. He stood tall, a few inches above six feet. He had a stiff walk that spoke of determination and pride. A crimson pair of sunglasses hid his eyes, but honestly Logan wasn’t interested. His face was boyish and clean-shaven, dressed in a light sweater over top of a navy blue polo shirt with khakis slacks, the shirt tucked in and khakis neatly pressed.

The young Sport looked like if he weren’t here at the school, he would be in a ritzy high-rise apartment somewhere in Manhattan, lounging back in a recliner, sipping lattes as he watched his 401k flourished. The guy probably ironed his boxers. Logan shook his head; already telling the two of them wouldn’t be getting along.

His attention drifted away from ‘Junior’, finding the redhead far more feasting on his eyes. That was till he caught the scent of rain.

Logan turned then fell into an ocean of blue.

OoOoOo

An easy smile brightened Xavier’s face as he welcomed the three new comers. “Logan, I would like to introduce you to Jean Gray the doctor that was attending to you while you were recuperating. Scott Summers also called Cyclops and Ororo Monroe also called Storm.” The words of the Professor seemed to drift into the background till they were nothing but a distant memory.

Logan had forgotten about the redhead, had even forgotten about the school. Everything else seemed to disappear the longer his eyes were on the woman before her. Her hair was a pure white that fell into thick tendrils that continued to flow below her waist. Her eyes were almond shaped and held the sheerest set of blue sapphire eyes he ever seen in his life. Her skin was flawless, as if it all was dipped in a bottomless well of caramel. His eyes dropped noticing her full lush chocolate lips. Falling further down her slender neck into the white blouse she was wearing whose top two buttons were undone to allow generous viewing of tantalizing cleavage.

Rain and sandalwood, identified as her scent and yet there was a third fragrance that he could not name but its presence brought an unusual amount of calm to him. There was something about her hair. Her soft looks, her mocha colored skin, her shimmering sapphire eyes, even her scent that spoke something to him, triggering a wild fire inside of him that even the Beast in all its infinite influence couldn’t begin to control.

His eyes swam wanting to continue, but he was suddenly drawn back to the sight of her eyes. Unlike the redhead who later he would be reminded was called Jean, the woman before him, this Ororo Monroe didn’t shy away from his gaze. If anything his intensity was equally met. Fuller and fuller he fell into her spell, and she too seemed to be drawn to him on some level. It was like lost souls being reunited after a thousands years absence, a sort of connection that neither of them could explain.

OoOoOo

Xavier stopped talking sometime ago, taking an interest the interaction between the two. Logan seemed completely mesmerized by Ororo presence. Although there were strong mental barriers that barred a lot of the feral mutant’s thoughts from him, Charles didn’t have to be a psychic to notice the obvious attraction there. And to be equally honestly in all the years that he had known Ororo, Charles had never seen her so enthralled by anyone she just met also.

Feeling a need to continue Charles tried drawing both Logan and Ororo back to the conversation, after a few attempts he gained no success. Seeing this as a slight of rudeness from the newcomer, Scott Summers decided to step in. He moved behind the stocky shorter man to give him a slight tap on the shoulder to get his attention. Such a simple act would set into play a series of events that absolutely nobody foresaw.

Scott’s tap from behind, in one instant raised all the hairs on the back of the Wolverine, triggering a basic self-preserving instinct which called for a reaction that based on primal impulse more than thought. There was an explosion of motion that slammed Scott back, followed quickly by a faint metallic hiss. In less than three breaths, the Wolverine had both of Scott's arms pinned down with his elbow to cycloptic leader’s throat. Three adamantium blades were within inches of his face; the Wolverine’s cold as steel eyes and a deadly snarl daring Summers to make a move.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the scene but it was Xavier who was the first to react. “STOP!” his voice thundered through the room as if it held the combined might of all the heavens, “There are a few things I will tolerate, but violence amongst each other is not one of them,” the Professor instructed sharply.

The Wolverine’s steel gray eyes fell away from the tense sunglasses draped man, looking over his shoulder to Xavier. Logan’s claws slowly retracted as he took a few steps back letting the young leader go. Jean instantly went to Scott side, while the Wolverine stood by. “You won’t find any enemies here, Logan. So please be at ease.” Xavier continued while taking a breath that looked as though that incident alone took ten years off of his life.

The Wolverine snorted angrily before crossing his thick arms in front of his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint sight of Ororo’s stare. Her blue almond shaped eyes narrowed to thin slits to him, in anger and disgust. For some reason he thought he caught a faint hint of ozone in the air, but he quickly shook off the notion as impossible. He then whirled back to Xavier, “Whatcha bring me here for Chuck?” Logan barked out, his steel eyes drilling the old man.

Xavier paused briefly at the liberties taken with his name but decided to ignore it. “I thought to offer you sanctuary from those that seem to pursue you,” the Professor extended.

The Wolverine briefly paused in thought. ‘That bastard Sabertooth was still out there,’ he considered, while slamming his knuckles into closed his fist, his mind already racking over the next time when he would get his hand on that savage bastard. “I don’t need yer charity,” he grunted returning to Xavier, “I can take care o’ my own.”

“Perhaps you can,” the Professor conceded, while his wheelchair moved him back to his desk. He then steepled his fingers on the desk while his eyes returned to him, “but what of your traveling companion, the girl that was accompanying you.”

At the mention of her, Logan’s eyes widened. ‘Marie…’ All thoughts of Xavier and his school completely left him again, his priorities shifting. ‘Where is she?’ he wondered. His eyes then took a hard edge, ‘If that bastard Sabertooth hurt her…’ With that train of thought Logan turned, almost storming out of the door.

“I assure you, she is quite well,” Xavier called after him. The older man paused while making a pondering gesture, “I believe right now she’s preparing for her classes.”

“Classes?” one of Logan’s thick eyebrows popped up as if catching on for the first time, “What classes?”

“This is a school…” a voice that seemed draped in the softest velvet spoke. Logan turned back to the mocha-skinned beauty with the shimmering eyes. He could still sense the thin veil of anger that brewed under the surfaced as she continued to address him, “…if you haven’t noticed,” she finished coldly, the two azure colored daggers that were her eyes setting on him. Logan’s steel eyes narrowed nearly rising to the challenge.

There was a tense silence that inhabited the room. A tension that was so evident that no one dared to utter a word. Logan looked as he was about to speak but a rap pair of knocks sounded behind from the door, drawing everyone’s attention. “Enter…” Xavier announced, welcoming the distraction.

Filling almost the entire width of the door stood a towering young man. His massive body was encased in a loose “X” labeled t-shirt, leaving his strong forearms bare. He had a short crop of black hair, clean cut but the boyish face on him pegged him several years younger than Summers. Probably just on his journey to adulthood. He wore an honest smile that graced everyone, even the new comer in the room.

“Logan this is Peter Rasputin,” the Professor introduced, while Logan gave the giant young man a critical eye. The guy was in good shape and held his stance pretty evenly. Logan instantly pegged him for a scrapper. “Peter was a graduate from last year that decided to remain among us to continue his training.”

Logan’s eyebrow raised again in interest, “Continue his trainin’ fer what?”

“Well if you decide to remain among us, I’ll be more than happy to explain.” Xavier finished, allowing that thought to weigh in Logan’s mind before he turned to address the young Russian, “Peter, can you escort Logan around. Show him a little bit about the school. I’m sure the two of you will run into Rogue along the way,” the Professor included hoping that would appease Logan’s concern.

“Of course Professor,” the younger man accepted with a brief nod. He then turned to the bare-chested shorter man with an extended hand of greeting. Logan with that same eyebrow cocked just stared feigning indifference. Peter then paused as if confused as he looked down to the smaller man. When he spoke the thick tenor of a Russian accent took center stage, accentuating each of his words, “I am sorry. I’m not familiar with all American customs.” He informed Logan, while looking down to his extended hand, “Is this not the way to properly to greet a friend?”

Logan eyes went up to the kid. Although the young man’s face was contorted into a neutral expression, Logan could see the inner grin held behind the young man’s lively eyes. It seemed contagious because the barest hint of a smirk graced his chiseled face as well. The feral Canadian slowly clasped hands with the younger man. Instantly he noted the marvelous strength within the grasp. “Nice grip,” he admitted while nodding, “Name’s Logan.”

“And I am Piotr Rasputin,” the young Russian eagerly greeted, “but you can also call me Colossus.”

“Colossus huh?” Logan asked while following in step with the younger man, the door to the headmaster’s room closing behind them. “What is it thatja do?” Not a moment after he asked was there the sound of rhythmic metallic clanking and chiming echoed in the hallway. “Cool…” Logan responded sounding impressed. “Hey Pete, know where I can find a shirt ‘round here?”

OoOoOo

No sooner did the door to the headmaster’s room close, did both Ororo and Jean close upon the Professor’s desk in righteous fury. “Charles are you mad?” Ororo shouted her natural blue eyes were wide and angered, “You can't possibly be considering, to allow that man to stay here?”

“And if I was?” Charles responded calmly, already expecting the energetic charge.

“Professor…” Jean followed behind her longtime friend, “I’m sure you can tell the various levels of mental barriers Logan has in place, but despite the density, before I could still tell his intent,” her green eyes leveling on the Professor, “Just then he was ready to kill Scott,” she concluded hoping to drive home the issue of how potentially dangerous the feral from Canada was.

Charles Xavier simply closed his eyes while shaking his head, “When I open this school many years ago, it was for the sole purposes of having a safe haven for all mutants,” he began, allowing his stare to fall on both women, “I cannot renege on that offer for every mutant that appears rougher around the edges then most.”

Ororo’s blue eyes instantly widened with fury and rile, “Rough around the edges?” she repeated incredulous, “Charles he’s an animal! Why can't you see that? He's a danger to us all, especially the children.”

Hearing her response Xavier’s face wore a deep frown, “Ororo you bring shame to yourself for such words.”

The African beauty equally leveled a stare on him, refusing to admit an error. “If it seems I have spoken out of turn it is only because everything I hold dear and love is under this roof,” she expressed honestly.

For a time the two continued battled stares neither side wanting to admit defeat. But suddenly Charles tore his gaze away from Ororo, taking notice of the one remaining member in the room who hadn’t voiced an opinion. “Scott,” Xavier interjected, while looking over to the auburn haired man, “Your thoughts? And furthermore are you all right?”

“Yeah,” the young X-Men leader muttered while rubbing his neck another time for good measure, “Guy's fast and got a hellavah grip,” he spouted off, saying the first thing to mind. He then drifted off in thought as he pondered his own reaction to the whole event. After a minute of deep consideration he spoke, “I think the Professor is right.” The honesty and genuinely of his reply surprised both of the woman. “Face it,” he said, feeling the need to explain, “None of us came to this school under the best of circumstances. And even if he is one of the more extremes, it’s within everything we stand for as X-Men and as well as faculty of this School to at least offer him a chance.”

Charles nodded agreeing, “My thoughts exactly.”

Not trying to allow the matter to be closed both Ororo and Jean strongly protested, but Charles in a calm clear voice called, “Enough,” his eyes directed to the two women, “For the next forty-eight hours I will be closely monitoring him. If anymore problems arise from his presence here I will ask him to take his leave,” Xavier ended.

After some brief looks that were exchanged around the room everyone started to make their way out. Ororo was the last to exit, she turned briefly back to the Professor one last thought on her mind, “And what if he refuses, Charles?” Ororo ended while closing the door behind her.


To be continued…





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