Letonia - 9/10

Letonia
9/10

She found Sam sitting on the rooftop. If these people didn’t learn to stay inside their houses, their number would start dwindling even more rapidly. Standing in the open hall window, she wondered if there was any good way out of this.

It had been three days.

Three days of training with Logan, three days of watching helplessly as her body changed around her. Three days watching as the others, with the exception of Remy, Ororo, and Logan, tiptoed around her, as if they expected her to blow and wanted to be ready to avoid the fallout. Three more days without Doggett, without Mulder, without Skinner.

Without Evan.

Three days since the funeral, spent in thought when she wasn’t training or going through files.

And now she had to tell them what had been entrusted to her. Not knowing where to start, mulling over what she had to say, she had wandered throughout the house, looking for the right opportunities. And now that she’d found one, she wished that she’d stayed safe in the room.

Scully climbed out onto the rusty slate coloured shingles and sat on the roof beside him. She hugged her arms around herself out of habit, but the night air didn’t bother her.

“Hi,” she said softly. Sam didn’t even turn his head. He’d known that she was there, just as she had known where to find him. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No more than you are.”

Silence.

“How do you like it?” He asked finally. His voice was dull and emotionless. “I guess it never really sunk in for me before. I used to think that immortality was this great gift, that I could use my time to do so much good. I never considered the flip side, that maybe I could be the source of so much pain.

“How do you like it?”

“I’m not quite sure what you mean,” she said, the words sounding weak to her ears. He turned his head slightly, his eyes boring into hers.

“Please don’t play this game, not now. Ah don’t know if I can take it. Denial doesn’t take it away. Trust me, ah know on this one. Denial doesn’t do a lot of things. It doesn’t bring back the people you’ve lost, doesn’t cure your little sister of pancreatic cancer, doesn’t let you correct your mistakes.”

He looked out over the woods again. “Is your sister the one that ran over to you at the.....”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a time, then Sam started to speak. “She’s not supposed ta be able to get cancer. I mean, she changes the material her body is made of almost every day. It should be purged from her system when she husks. But no matter how long she stays changed, when she comes back, the tumour is still there. She’s been through the equipment at the Academy, Hank checked her out here, the best doctors the Professor and Frost could get a hold of went over her with a fine tooth comb. Guess it was already too late.”

Scully winced internally. Her own bout with cancer surfaced. “Did she ever have a chip in her neck?” she asked.

“Ah wish it were that simple. We tried modifying one of those government chips, but the cancer was from a different source. We’d all really hoped that it would work. Hank was pretty broken up when there wasn’t any change.”

Scully fell silent. Pancreatic cancer was hard to detect. By the time that enough symptoms had surfaced for a diagnosis, it was usually too late to do anything other than make the patient’s last days comfortable.

“Who’s Frost?”

“She runs one of our sister schools, one for teenagers, up in Boston.”

“Okay.”

The moonlight reflecting off of the pond was hurting Scully’s eyes. “Are you a religious man?” she asked Sam.

“I don’t really know any more. I used to be. Look, ah don’t mean to be rude, but I came up here for a little perspective.”

He raised his hand to his neck, rubbing the mark left by the restraining collar absently. His voice bespoke no curiosity as to the point of her mentioning religion, instead, it dismissed her totally.

“You have to have something to keep you strong, Sam. If you don’t have faith in a god, you have to have faith in your friends, in your coworkers. You can’t be a pillar,” Scully said as she rose from the roof, brushing the pieces little pieces of roofing tile which always seemed to flake, off of herself. “I’ve been here for less than a week, and even I can see that you’ve pulled away. None of them blame you for what happened to Rogue.”

She was by the window then, the gauzy drapes billowing slightly in the breeze, brushing against her calfs. “Rogue didn’t blame you either, you know.”

He continued to stare out over the country side, and when he spoke, his voice had dropped another few degrees. “*You * don’t know that. You can’t know that. That’s the point. Ah can’t ask her if she condemns me.”

“I asked you if you were a religious man, Sam. I guess that that’s not really what I meant, though. What I was going to say wasn’t strictly religious.” Scully felt the absence of the cross on her own neck deeply just then. It hadn’t really bothered her before for some reason. Now she felt naked. “What I was trying to say is that we don’t just end when we die. That there’s a part of us that survives. Every religion since the dawn of time has theorized it, call it heaven, call it reincarnation, call it karma. People with unfinished business don’t go on right away, I think. I’m still trying to figure all of this out. Some have a purpose left to fulfil, some are just plain stubborn.

“Rogue didn’t want to you blame yourself, she didn’t hold you responsible.”

“What are you, some sort of medium?”

“A few weeks ago, I would’ve had the same reaction as you. But things are. . . different now. If you can believe in telepaths and astral projection, why can’t you believe in spirits?”

Sam turned to face her then. He’d started to open his mouth to speak, but looking at her, blue and red and gold, eyes glowing slightly in the dark, partially back lit by the interior lights, it didn’t seem so impossible.

“Look Sam, you can believe me or not. I don’t know if I even believe me, but Rogue didn’t want you to suffer over this. She’s accepted it.

“Now, if she’s the one who’s dead, and she’s moved on, maybe you should stop being so recalcitrant.”

She stepped back inside, leaving Sam to his thoughts. She found Bobby leaning against the wall beside the window. His face was impassive. “The Professor wants to speak to you.”

“Why didn’t he just call me then?”

“I take it that your mood made your shields too strong.”

Bobby led her through the Mansion. She could have told him that she could find her way if he told her where Xavier was, the same way that she knew she could now work all of the equipment in the med lab, how she could name every member of every group associated with the X-Men and their powers, their medical concerns, how she knew every single detail of Hank’s research.

The same way that she knew what Bobby was trying to find a way to ask her. Hank taught her a lot, and what she remembered now seemed to her to be only the tip of the iceberg. He’d been standing outside the window for awhile, waiting for the right time to interrupt. So they just walked in silence, working out a conversation in their heads. They finally drew to a halt in front of the doors of the Professor’s private study. Scully could hear faint voices which dropped off after the tickle touched the back of her head.

“Look, Miss Scully...” Bobby began.

“Hank’s ok. He may not have been happy about going, but he didn’t think that it was something that could’ve been prevented by your keeping a closer eye on him.” She dug through her pocket for the object that Hank had slipped into her hand at the funeral. Finding the cold metal object, she drew it out of her pocket. She reached out and took Bobby’s hand, then opened it and gently placed the silver pocket watch in his palm. “He wanted you to have it. Said that he wanted to make sure that you’d be on time for appointments with your new doctor. You were always late for him, and he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t piss him or her off. Your doctor is one person you want to be sure likes you.”

“I’ll try, Miss Scully.” He paused for a second. “I have to warn you that I may loose track of time occasionally though.” He looked at her critically. “You aren’t going to stay, are you?”

“Don’t you see? This is exactly why I have to go. There are people I care about grieving for me. They are going through what you are, what Sam is, what Remy is. Even if it wasn’t for Evan, I’d have to leave. I can’t stand the thought of this much pain. Not over me.” Scully felt as if she were betraying Hank’s memory in some way.

Robert smiled faintly, his eyes saying that he understood. “I don’t suppose you could recommend a doctor we could trust to us? Ro’s the only one of us with any sort of medical bent, so she’s been doing that stuff, but she’d our leader. We need her to be out in the field. *She* needs to be out in the field.”

“Tell you what. If I think of anyone, I’ll drop you a line.”

Something flashed across Bobby’s eyes that she couldn’t quite recognize. He withdrew a few steps from her, and bid her good night. She reached for the dark wood doors, and stepped into the silent room. The tension struck her immediately. It seemed to fit in oddly among the deep brown bookcases which stretch from the forest green carpeted floor to the vaulted ceiling. The Professor sat behind a desk with a computer off to one side, his chin in his hands, looking pensive. There weren’t any electric lights turned on, instead, a fire blazed in a hearth by the windows. Remy was sulking in the shadows. Ororo sat on the raised stones by the grate with crossed arms, her normally serene demeanour gone. Logan was picking at an antique looking chair with one claw.

The Professor spoke. “Miss Scully, there is something that we must discuss.” Scully felt her heart sink. She had a hunch as to what that look from Bobby when she’d mentioned writing to him had meant.

“Let me guess. I’m too hot for you. You want me out of here before I bring the government down on all of your heads.”

“Child, don’t jump to conclusions. That can only hurt all of us.”

“But that is basically what you were going to say Chuck,” Logan almost spat.

“No. I don’t want her to leave, you know that. We are in extreme need of a doctor.”

“Fine, then you were going to try to convince her to stay, but tell her that if she chooses to go, you don’t ever want to hear from her again.”

Ororo was by his side by then, her hand on his arm. This time though, she seemed more to be backing him up than restraining him. Something clicked for Scully, and she felt a slight smile tug at her lips, but the drew herself back to the matter at hand.

“It’s not that simple Logan, and you know that, as well.”

“Really? Seems pretty clear cut to me.”

“Hello? The object of your conversation is standing right here, and she’s decided that she would like to hear the full story,” Scully broke in. That stopped them. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, and pretend that I never said anything.”

Scully sat herself down at a chair where she could see everyone, and waited. Xavier composed himself, then began to speak. “Miss Scully, there’s something that you need to know, before we get into anything else. Your healing powers are active.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?” She thought that she might all ready know, but she wanted it spelled out for her.

“Logan’s abilities, for example, are reactive. When he is hurt, his healing factor kicks in, putting things back to the way that they were before. You, on the other hand...

“Your body is playing the survival of the fittest game. It’s always changing. Anything that could give you a higher chance of survival you are likely to acquire. It’s almost as if your healing factor is rewriting your DNA to suit your enviroment. So far, it’s only heightened reflexes and senses, and incredibly strong telepathic shields, on top of your set of healing abilities and age regression, but it’s not going to stop there. Your X-Factor only really started to strongly assert itself less than a month ago, and look at what’s all ready happened.”

“Oh,” Scully said quietly. She’d half suspected something of the sort, but not to this extent. “Wait a second, did you say set of healing abilities?”

Gambit shrunk farther into the shadows, staring down at his feet then at the line of books even with his eyes. He hadn’t spoken once, and continued his silence even now.

“Dana,” Ororo started. Scully glanced over a the use of her first name, then waited for Ororo to continue to speak. “He didn’t tell us. I was concerned when I found a patch of grass covered with dried blood and shards of glass. I asked Remy if he’d heard anything in the night, and he was acting suspiciously. I guessed it all on my own. He even denied it once I’d figured it out.”

Remy still wouldn’t meet Scully’s eyes.

“What Ororo was getting at Miss Scully,” the Professor continued, “Was that you were able to do that when you needed to. You didn’t even think about it, did you? Realize consciously what you were doing? If you were in trouble, how do you know that without training, you would do the same thing in reverse, destroying the body of your attacker, or someone who’d just made you mad? If you wanted with all your heart for them to shut up, would their voice box quit working? You don’t know what you are capable of. We could teach you, help you control it as it developed.”

“It seems to me, Professor, that if what you say is accurate, if you were to be scared of anything, it would be what I’m capable of, not my presence attracting the government. In fact, my being here probably wouldn’t create a greater risk of that, since they think that I’m dead, and your activities would attract more attention than my being here ever could.”

“This place is a school for mutants, Miss Scully. We try to teach them to control their powers. I’ve never turned down a student because I believe that they would be dangerous to us. They’d be an even greater danger out in society with no influence over what they can do.

“It’s not your presence right now that we causes me concern. You are completely right in saying that the government believes you dead. They probably wouldn’t connect any reports of you now with Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, save for your name. But if you go back, you all most certainly will be discovered, and they will figure it out. They watch your son still, though not as closely. They keep an eye on your partners and friends, due to their involvement in the X-Files. If you attempt to contact anyone from before, they will figure it out. Not right away perhaps, as you are younger, but you are still a very distinctive figure. When you leave DC again, as you will have to, with or without Evan, they will use all of their resources to track you. Is there anyone that they are unaware of who will take you in? As much I wish that we could, I would not be able to take you back in. We cannot afford that. Our cover is not that good. Even if it was, they might still destroy us out of spite.”

“I’m going to need some time on this one.”

Scully looked around the room. Xavier looked disheartened but convicted. Logan looked ready to kill someone. Ororo seemed to have some of Logan’s anger, but tempered it with a deep sadness.

Remy still wouldn’t look at her.

She could understand where Xavier was coming from. He had a responsibility to these people. Fine. She had a responsibility to Evan.

She remained seated, lost in thought. Xavier excused himself and left the room. Remy skulked out in his wake. She didn’t notice this, so when she drew herself back up into the world, she found herself alone with Logan and Ororo. Ororo fed another log into the fire, then sat down on the hearth beside Logan.

“So,” Scully asked. “How long have the two of you been together?”

Ororo started. Logan simply looked up at her, then returned to his inspection of the green carpetting, picking at the loops with one claw.

“How did you...” Ororo paused. “About a year and a half.”

“It’ll be 18 months in three weeks, darlin,” Logan told Storm. He looked almost hurt by her surprised expression. Almost. “What? You didn’t really think that I’d forget, did you?”

“Is really it that obvious?” Storm asked.

“I am. . . I was a Federal Agent. It’s what I did for a long time. Plus, I think that maybe it’s more noticable from the outside. The little nuances that your teammates are all used to. . . They all know the two of you, know what they think that they should expect. Sometimes you just end up seeing what you have come to expect.”

“You won’t tell them, will you?” Ororo asked. Scully thought she saw Logan grimace resignedly at that. This was a tired old conversation between them.

“I know how to keep my mouth shut. I don’t think that any of the others have figured it out. Which might be something that you’d want to worry about when you’re talking about Xavier and Betsy, if they really are all that they say they are.”

“It’s just that as team leader, I can’t seem to be playing favourites. This is a major conflict of interest issue.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Have a nice anniversary.” With that, she rose from the chair and headed back to the room. Pausing at the door, she turned to them and said, “I appreciate that the two of you haven’t been avoiding me. I know that a few of the others seem to be a little hesistant to be around me, as if they’re afraid that I’m going to snap. I don’t think that the thought ever crossed your mind, Ororo, and I wanted to say that you’re good people, and that no matter what happens, you have a place in my heart. Logan, you’ve always seemed ready to jump away. I think you have a good idea exactly what the risks were, but you stuck it out anyway. It takes a strong person... Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you, both of you.”

Scully closed the heavy oak doors behind her, then started back to the room. She found Remy leaning against the wall by the entrance of her room.

“Hi,” she said. He continued to stare at the area rug which covered the hall floor.

“Look, chere, Gambit didn’t mean to,” he started.

“It’s all right, really. None of this is your fault. You’re as caught up in this as I am, as we all are. They would’ve found out sooner or later anyway. It’s actually good that we got this out in the open before I left. And I know that you didn't tell them. Ororo knew the same way that you know about her and Logan.” She pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Gambit started to follow her, his face still dark. She stopped dead in her tracks as she caught site of her reflection in the mirrow. It was still a little bit of a surprise to her, but the bigger shock was always how normal it was to her.

Remy stood in the doorway, silohetted against the hall lights.

“Dey all think you’re dead, you know.”

He looked at her intently, his eyes daring her to deny it, to tell him that she knew how to fix, to make it all better.

Daring her to chose the easy way out.

She flopped back on the bed (*her bed*, a part of her mind whispered to her). She could feel his eyes still on her, from where he stood by the (*her*) door, waiting on her decision.

Because this was what it all came down to, all of it. She had to choose.

She stared up at the ceiling and wondered how it had come to this.

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