[fic] Go Ask Alice 3/? (Nc-17; X-Men, mental institution AU)
Title: Go Ask Alice
Author: punahukka / Jester
Fandom: X-Men First Class / Girl, Interrupted / Sucker Punch crossover/AU (featuring an ensemble of other Marvel characters)
Disclaimer: Playing with Marvel’s toys in Susanna Kaysen’s, James Mangold’s and Zack Snyder’s sandboxes.
Rating: Nc-17
Pairing: Charles/Erik, various others
Warnings: mental illnesses, mentions of suicide (attempted and committed) and child-abuse, language, sex, violence, alcohol and drug abuse, cross-dressing, era-specific homophobia and racism, screwed timelines
Summary: Have you ever confused reality with a dream or a good story? Or a bad one? Have you ever stood on a bridge and not jumped because you cannot trust the laws of the physics and you’re afraid of the ever after? Have you ever been kissed? Have you ever been kissed like a frog and not turned into anything at all? Have you ever met anyone you know from another life or timeline than this?
A mental institution AU for this prompt @ xmen_firstkink.
A/N: Introducing most of the cast and trying to keep the balance between light-hearted and dark. And IDK how Logan became the comic relief. ^^' Thanks for your wonderful comments so far, guys. <3
Chapter 3
Many an evening would the five sisters rise hand in hand from the depths of the ocean. Their voices were far sweeter than any human voice, and when a storm was coming on, they would swim in front of the ships, and sing,-oh! how sweetly did they sing! describing the happiness of those who lived at the bottom of the sea, and entreating the sailors not to be afraid, but to come down to them.
H.C. Andersen: The Little Mermaid
As promised, Loki sticks by his side when they are gathered for Thor to escort them to another wing and to a dining hall.
“Lunches and dinners are served down here if you’re not forbidden to leave the ward for some reason. And most of the lovely ladies from Five will be joining us in a few minutes,” Loki tells him, eyeing the food suspiciously.
“What’s a five?”
“The female counterpart of our ward. People who don’t need straitjackets most of the time.”
They take a table for six and are soon accompanied by Sean and a blonde kid with a sulking expression apparently glued to his face (which will most likely be a very handsome one in a couple of years).
“Alex Summers.” Charles takes the skinny hand the boy is offering, and for a moment he’s afraid he’ll snap a bone.
“Charles Xavier.”
After that the guy just turns inwards and starts poking his food with his fork as if to make sure it’s dead.
After a while there are six women entering the room. One of them gives Loki a little wave, and Loki waves back with a smile lighting up his face again.
“I missed you at lunch,” he informs when the woman, or girl, takes a seat at their table.
“I was seeing the doctor so I had to rely on the room service. Who is this?” She has a beautiful, honest smile, and Charles tries to smile back.
“Charles Xavier, my new roommate. Raven Darkholme, the best person in the world.”
Raven nudges Loki with her elbow. There’s nothing raven-ish in her appearance, though; she has soft features, curves in all the right places and long warm-blond hair.
“Nice to meet you, Charles.”
“My pleasure.” (Hopefully, since there must be a reason these people are here.)
“You smell like a rich person.”
Charles jumps an inch from his chair at the voice next to his ear. When he turns his head there is another blonde girl grinning at him before moving along.
Sean laughs, Loki tries to keep a straight face, and Raven winces. Alex keeps his focus on his plate.
“Better check your pockets for missing handkerchiefs,” Raven says, glaring after the other girl.
“Is she still stealing your stuff?” Loki asks compassionately.
“Not so much, Sage was kind enough to scare the shit out of her and she’s been avoiding me, really.”
“I’m not sure if this is an appropriate question,” Charles mutters, his skin still on goosebumps, “but was that woman just sniffing me?”
“Oh, yes, but pay no attention. You see, among other things, Felicia Hardy is partly a cat,” Raven explains. “Since she came here she’s pretty much gotten over licking people and peeing in the corners.”
Charles tries closing his eyes to erase the scene again, but nothing happens.
When they’ve all finished eating and returned their dishes (Charles notices that Alex has shaped a fortress out of the mashed potatoes, the sauce representing the moat and vegetables playing the part of a thick wall) Thor takes them back to the ward. Sean keeps making up childish songs about Raven being Loki’s girlfriend until Alex tells him to shut the fuck up.
“Would you like to play cards or something?” Loki suggests when Charles has followed him to the TV room like a puppy in its master’s wake. “There’s not much to do around here. There is a library but it’s a shitty one, so if you’re a reader I recommend making someone to bring you books. Or you can borrow something from me if you like.”
“Cards are fine.” Charles lights a cigarette and offers the pack to Loki who politely refuses.
“Will you girls let me play, too?”
Charles’s jaw drops a little at the sight of the man pacing to their direction. He has a black hair reaching for the heavens in a manner that makes it look like an extra pair of ears on the top of his head. His sideburns are the bushiest Charles has ever seen and there is a shadow of a stubble on most parts of the rest of his face. Charles has always identified himself as an academic, and he really can’t tell where all that muscle on the man’s body comes from; but his blue jeans and white wife-beater hug those muscles pretty nicely.
“I thought I smelled testosterone. Please, do join us. Charles, this is Logan; Logan, Charles.”
Charles fears for his own bones in Logan’s handshake.
Once seated, Logan looks at Charles and points a finger at Loki who’s found them a pack of cards. “This bitch cheats.”
“I do no such thing, my darling.” With a grin Loki starts dealing. “Let’s start with a Cassino, shall we?”
When Nurse Grey hurries by during their second game Logan appreciates the view with low whistle and a heartfelt “I’d do that”. She pays no attention.
“Always the gentleman,” Loki comments, rolling his eyes.
“Well, being a gentleman doesn’t seem to get you anywhere with that blond chick of yours.”
“I’d rather not discuss about Raven with you, thank you very much. She’s a sweet girl. You, on the other hand, are disgusting.” He turns to Charles, as if confidentially. “Logan here asked me once if I’d like to give him a blowjob. Don’t bend over in he showers if he’s around.”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with a man wanting to have his cock sucked,” Logan shrugs with a grin.
“Speaking of which,” he continues when Grey passes them again on her way back to the nurses’ room, this time with Erik Lehnsherr following her; the man keeps his eyes on the floor and his shoulders pulled to his ears, and Charles feels a sudden sting of something he doesn’t immediately recognize as compassion. “I thought Rogers had his dick so deep in Lehnsherr’s ass that their thing would have survived a little time apart.”
“You don’t honestly think they were fucking?” Even if Loki sounds remotely bored there’s an actual question in his voice.
“I’d believe it of Lehnsherr.”
“You’d believe anything that you can give him a hard time about.”
“He’s a prick. You there, Chuck, be careful with Lehnsherr.”
Charles feels like he’s shrinking under Logan’s intensive gaze. “The name’s Charles, actually.”
“You’re Chuck now.”
“Next he’ll start calling you his bitch,” Loki warns gleefully.
“You’re still my number one bitch,” Logan assures the other man, but Charles doesn’t get any actual sexual predator vibe from him; instead he would put his money on the guess that there’s some real fondness between them, even when it’s hard to make the notion fit into his world.
His roommate shakes his head: “Honestly, how can Miss Grey not fall for you?”
*
“What’s Logan’s problem?” Charles asks later when the lights are out and he’s trying to get comfortable in his too small bed. His sheets have a faint smell of hospital on them. His head is buzzing like a radio that’s not tuned quite right; he has been given an innocent-looking white pill to help him sleep, and after the first doubts he’s rather curious if it’s going to work.
“He’s some sort of paranoid schizophrenic with mysterious memory losses. He’s insane, obviously, but I think he’s a darling.”
“What about the others?” He’s not sure if it’s a topic they discuss about here, or if he even wants to know, but he gives it a shot.
Loki rolls on his side in his own bed so he’s facing Charles. “Well, Sean decided some years ago that he’s Peter Pan and tried to fly. I don’t know if it’s trauma or brain damage, but apparently he has no interest in growing up. Alex doesn’t eat for whatever reason. Bruce Banner was with us at the dinner, the small guy in the hoodie. He’s a neurotic control freak, like if he doesn’t fold his clothes right something awful happens. And then there’s of course Erik who thinks it’s the coolest thing ever to be diagnosed with an antisocial personality disorder.”
Charles still fears he’s pushing it too far but blurts the words out anyway: “Raven seemed normal.”
“She’s not, but she’s not crazy either. Her latest diag-nonsense had something to do with multiple personalities trying to manifest themselves. Before that she was a dyke, and before that it was about her gender identity, and before that I don’t even know.”
“Is there something going on between you and her? Or do you know her from… somewhere else?”
“We met here,” Loki takes a moment to think, “six months ago. I think she’s a friend. It’s okay to make friends here in the name of peer support, but if you get too close to someone the staff will cut it off pretty soon.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Eleven months next week. But don’t worry, you will most likely get out much sooner.”
There’s a dragging moment of silence, but finally Loki breaks it by chuckling: “Come on, you know you want to ask.”
He doesn’t, but he has to. “What’s wrong with you?”
“It goes by the name of Pseudologia fantastica.”
“What does it mean?”
“I’m a pathological liar.”
*
When Charles first meets his psychiatrist he cannot decide whether Emma Frost is a frigid bitch or a smoking hot fellow freak. She wears white but it is clearly her own choice; her hair and make-up are perfectly in place; she could probably stab a person dead with her fingernails.
She wrinkles as Charles lights a cigarette. (Bitch.)
“Tell me about yourself.”
She has some papers in front of her so she already knows who he is and where he comes from, and Charles doesn’t know what he should say. “Can I have a more specific question, please?” He has one hell of a headache building up.
“Why are you here, Charles?”
Charles shrugs. “They put me here ‘cause I need to rest.”
Frost leans back in her chair, gracefully crossing her legs and tilting her head. “No, sugar. This is not about them; this is about you.” She looks straight into his eyes, as if searching, and Charles has a nasty feeling she can see right through his skull. (Freak.) “And you are not here to rest. You are here to fight.”