New Mutants Holiday Special
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Title: The New Mutants II, Vol. I: The New Mutants Holiday Special
Author: kanedax
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: PG-13 for mild language and adult situations
Pairings: Bobby/Kitty, Peter/Rogue (if you squint), and Remy/Theresa & Sean/Moira in conversation.
Spoilers: X3, as well as my New Mutants series (see above)
Summary: The holidays are here, as some X-Men say their goodbyes, while the others get their Christmas Bonus.
Notes: Ahhh, it's nice to get back to these characters again after almost two months away. This story was initially intended to be a one-shot, bridging the gap between the final two chapters of the NM series. However, after writing it, I feel that I've introduced a few new fun plot bunnies that I might come back and do some more exploring in the coming months. As usual, I don't own the X-Men, Marvel Comics, 20th Century Fox, or any of thems.
EDIT: Had a few questions of confusion. This story takes place after the final battle in the series, but before the epilogue. Stuff dealing with Alison's coming out, Logan's disappearance, and the introduction of new students are begun here.
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A fire crackled serenely in the brick fireplace, casting a warm glow across the living room of Xavier Academy. Outside, in a front lawn which in the months previous had been the site of violence unheard of on even the most bloody of battlefields, was covered in a clean, white, drifting snow. Weather forecasters in the Westchester County area had been predicting record snowfalls for the season, along with the potential for more than a few record lows.
However, these meteorologists had recently gone back on these claims, as the almost constant flurries and sub-zero temperatures seen within the past month seem to have had tapered off within the past few days. Tonight there was a barely a dusting of snow, and the next few weeks would see a warming trend that would leave southern New York and New Jersey in a seasonably-comfortable range of 20’s and 30’s into February, as well as an early melt and an early spring.
Someone might make a connection between the deep colds and the losses that 1407 Graymalkin Lane had suffered within the past few months. They might connect the first snowfall of the season with the first deaths that this Academy had seen that season, and the dropping temperatures as some sort of reaction to the sacrifices made by four mutants during the second and final battle.
This observer might also make the connection between the warming and calming of the weather with the lightening and warming of spirits within the Academy that night.
Of course, if that observer existed, they certainly weren’t in the living room as an echoing belch reverberated through the halls.
“Logan, please, I just ate.”
“What’s the matter, ‘Ro?” Logan chuckled as the two X-Men walked into the room. “It’s a compliment to the chef.”
“Speaking as the chef,” Peter Rasputin responded as he and the other students of the Academy followed Ororo Munroe and Logan in, “I like my compliments to be a little less... gurgly.”
“I believe you did a fine job,” Kurt Wagner said through his thick German accent, patting Peter on the shoulder as the group sat down around the fire.
“Didn’t think I’d ever eat a holiday meal that featured both borscht and collared greens,” Logan said, leaning against the back wall and swallowing a slug of beer from the bottle clutched in his hand, “And I’ve had my share.”
“You can blame her for the odd collection,” Peter said quietly, pointing his thumb to the girl sitting next to him.
“Hey,” Rogue said, poking Peter’s arm with her gloved hand, “I only said that I missed some of my Mom’s usuals.”
“That’s all you said,” Peter continued. “The way you said it... the look you gave me when you said it.... it was very persuasive.”
“I don’t know who you absorbed that gave you mastery of the Puppy Dog Eyes,” Bobby Drake chuckled, “but you’ve been using them a lot in the past few weeks.”
“Why is everyone ganging up on me, all of a sudden?” Marie said, a small smile on her face.
“Wait,” Lucas Bishop said, leaning against the back of the couch between Alison Blaire and Jimmy Cameron. “She couldn’t do that before?”
“Not when I was dating her,” Bobby said. “Trust me, she tried.”
“Ah,” Lucas said. He leaned over the couch and faced Marie. “By the way, you still have the DS3 you talked me into loaning you last week.”
Logan snorted laughter, choking on a mouthful of beer. Marie whirled and gave him a whithering look. “Sorry,” he said, his mouth still cracked in a grin, “I don’t even know what he’s talking about, but it’s still damn funny.”
“The whole ‘drawing names to do dishes’ thing is fair,” Connor Jones grumbled as he and Kitty Pryde trudged into the room, “but it can also be very very cruel.”
“Dishes are done,” Kitty said wearily, plopping down next to Bobby. “Can I sit down now and just, you know, digest?”
“I gotta say, lady,” Bobby said, putting his arm around her, “You put in an impressive amount of eating tonight.”
“Yeah,” Jones replied. “I didn’t even think you were supposed to eat all that beef roast and stuffing. Cuz of Hannukah and everything.”
Alison sat up and looked at Jones with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, where do I begin?”
“Doesn’t stuffing have yeast in its bread?”
“Point number one,” Kitty sighed, flipping her index finger into the air. “Hannukah’s over. Point number two, you’re thinking of Passover.”
“I thought Passover’s the one where you’re not supposed to eat at all,” Jones said.
“That’s Yom Kippur,” Alison said.
“I thought that’s the one where you plant a cherry tree to chop it down?”
“That’s Arbor Day and some warped vision of Presidents Day,” Kitty said, rolling her eyes.
“No,” Jones said patronizingly, “Arbor Day’s the day where you put your shoes out in front of your door and get candy.”
Alison’s head dropped into her hands. “And he goes full circle back to his own religion. You know, for someone who can literally surf the Internet in his sleep, you’re kind of an idiot, Glitch.”
Ororo cleared her throat. “Now that delightful conversation’s out of the way...”
“But what about the beef?” Jones continued unabated. “I thought you’re not supposed to eat meat.”
“Good Lord,” Kitty said, “where did you get your information?”
“My brother can be very firm in his commitment to get you to see things his way,” Jones said, unconsciously rubbing his arm.
“I’m not supposed to eat unclean animals.”
“You’ve obviously never smelled a cow before.”
“I’d quote the Torah for you,” Kitty said, “but you’d probably forget. So, I’ll just say that I can eat beef. I can eat chicken, turkey, lamb, and fish. I can’t eat pork or shellfish.”
“What about venison?” Jones challenged.
“Clean,” Kitty replied.
“Rabbit?”
“Unclean.”
“Duck?”
“Clean.”
“Penguin?”
“Unclean.”
“They mention ‘Penguin’ in the Torah?”
“Again, I’d explain,” Kitty said, “But either you’d forget, or everyone else in the room would be bored to tears.”
“Jones?”
“Yeah?” he replied, turning to Ororo.
“Are you done?”
He glanced over at Kitty. “For now,” he said ominously.
“Good,” she said, walking to the middle of the room. “I wanted to talk to you all for a bit.”
“What’s up?” Bobby asked.
“As you all know,” Ororo said, “Theresa left last week to spend the holidays with her father and Dr. MacTaggert. Remy joined them, as well as Jono, who will be spending a few more months there for testing and research until he comes back here in the spring.
“As well, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Forge are splitting time between Washington and The Raft, making sure what happened there won’t happen again. I’ve already heard that Forge has given S.H.I.E.L.D. more ideas for improved safety measures than a room full of their own scientists could have come up with in five years.
“I’ve spoken to Hank and Forge, and I’ve also spoken with the Cassidys and the others in England, and I’ve come to a decision.
“I want you all to leave.”
A silence filled the room. Bishop slowly raised his hand.
“Lucas?” Ororo said.
Lucas lowered his hand and took a deep breath. “Huh?” he asked.
“A lot has happened in the past few months,” Ororo continued. “More than any X-Man has ever had to deal with. It took a toll on all of us. But when I spoke with the others, I realized that what might be good for all of us is simply time away. A month off from classes, a month away from the Academy.”
“Where are we going?” Jimmy asked.
Ororo shrugged. “That’s up to you,” she replied. “I know some of you might want to be with your family for the holidays. That’s why we’re having our little dinner tonight instead of next week.”
Bobby cleared his throat nervously, and Marie likewise looked fairly uncomfortable. Ororo turned to them and nodded.
“And I also understand that, for some of you, visiting family might not be the best option. So I’m more than willing to play chauffeur if a group of you would like to go on vacation somewhere else. The funds for the Academy are fairly deep, so expenses would be paid. Within limits, of course.”
“Damn,” Jones said. “There goes that Porche I wanted to rent for the Autobahn.”
“And, if course,” Ororo continued, “if people wish to stay at the Academy, they’re certainly welcome. I’ll be giving communicators to the X-Men in case any emergencies should arise, and will most likely be staying here for that time, just to keep things in order.”
“Wow,” Jimmy breathed.
Ororo smiled. “Call it a Christmas bonus from the X-Men.”
Ororo could almost hear the gears whirling in the silence as she sat down.
“So what do you think?” Kitty asked Bobby. “Want to come ice skating with me in Northbrook?”
Bobby turned to her, a small smile crossing his face. “You want me to meet your parents?”
“Why not?” she asked. “It’ll be fun.”
“The snow’s nice, and all,” Lucas said to no one in particular, “But I miss Georgia.”
“Between the lab and here, I haven’t seen my room in years,” Jimmy said, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t wait to go back.”
“Well, I can’t go back...” Marie said sadly.
“Me, neither,” Jones agreed.
“You two can come to Illinois with me and Bobby, if you want,” Kitty said, but Marie shrugged.
“I think I’ll let you two have some alone time with the Pryde clan, but thanks for asking,” she said.
“How about Russia?” Peter asked the two. “My parents live in Siberia, so it might not be a tropical vacation, but you are certainly welcome.”
“That might be fun...” Marie said.
“Except that Siberia for a month is kinda boring,” Jones continued.
“It is a large continent,” Peter responded. “You would not have to stay the entire month if you did not wish to.”
“Hey, yeah!” Jones said, perking up. “We can make a vacation of it! Europe, Moscow... hell, I’ve always wanted to go to Japan...”
“Mit supervision, of course,” Kurt said. “But I would gladly play tour guide in Berlin if anyone would like that.”
“I think that would be a good...” Marie said, stopping in mid-sentence. Her head tilted, and her eyes squinted in concentration. Peter saw her nostrils flare slightly.
“Marie?” he asked, reaching out to her shoulder.
“Naw, I’m fine,” she responded. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before Peter could say anything more, she stood up and left the room.
“How about you, Albuquerque?” Bishop asked Alison. “Going home, or going touring?”
“Touring sounds about right,” she responded, standing up. “I’ll be back in a minute, too.”
“Sorry, Professor Munroe,” Bobby said, turning to Ororo. “It looks like you’re going to be tending the Academy by yourself.”
“Actually,” Ororo replied, smiling, “I was kind of hoping that this would be the case. I have to make a few trips myself, get a few meetings. The school might not be completely empty when you return.”
“More mutants?” Kurt asked. “You have some leads?”
“Two for now,” she said. “If you all are going to Tokyo, I might join you on the initial trip, and then fly you to Moscow on Forge’s new X-Jet before coming back here to have a meeting with a few people here in New York.”
“Who are you meeting with?” Kitty asked.
“A Dr. Richards, I believe his name is.”
“Dr. Richards?” Bishop asked, “Dr. Reed Richards?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Lucas responded. “I’ve read about him in some Popular Science magazines. He’s a big name in the world of quantum physics. You haven’t heard of him?”
“My bedtime reading isn’t as diverse as yours, Lucas,” Ororo said. “I’m meeting with him and his wife, along with a colleague of his, a Dr. Bruce Baxter, or something like that. Apparently the Richards have a son who’s showing some abilities, but they’re not sure if it’s a natural mutation or if it’s something that might have to do with some work the two have been working on over the past few years.”
“You mean a home-made mutant?” Jones asked. “Funky.”
“We’re all home-made,” Alison said, walking back into the room. “Just ask your mom.”
Jones paused, his mouth ajar. “Damn it,” he said eventually, “I didn’t want that mental image.”
“Find what you needed?” Ororo asked, looking at the envelopes in Alison’s hand.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ororo asked.
“Might as well,” Alison said, “Even though you already stole my thunder with this whole Christmas Break thing.”
Lucas’ eyes switched between the two women. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Ororo raised her hands, handing the stage off to the blond girl. Alison proceeded to walk around the room, handing out the unmarked envelopes to all of the students and teachers. There were a few left when she was done.
“Too many people not in the room,” she said with a touch of nervousness rarely heard in her voice. “Maybe I should have waited for everyone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ororo said. “You can mail those to the others, or they can just as easily stay here till they come back.”
“Okay,” Alison replied, sighing. She looked around the room. “Alright, stop staring at them and open your presents.”
The room was silent except for the quiet tearing of paper as the mutants opened their envelopes. They all pulled out their contents: a small cardboard slip.
“A ticket,” Peter said, looking at the rectangular card.
“Madison Square Garden,” Lucas read. “Front row seats.”
“When you guys come back from vacation,” Alison explained, “I’m not going to be here. I’m leaving the school.”
“What?” Lucas asked. “Why?”
“When my mutation first came out,” she continued, “I was on-stage. My publicist went to the media and explained that it was simply a pyrotechnic glitch, and people let it go as that. No one was hurt beyond a few people with some spots in their eyes for a few hours, so it wasn’t a big deal. But when I came to the school, I wanted to be cured. I couldn’t have a career if I was a mutant.
“But, in the past few weeks, I’ve been emailing my agent, my family, my studio rep. I’ve been writing new songs. And I decided that I didn’t want to hide anymore, and I didn’t want to be cured. I want to sing again, I want to be on stage again.”
“And your mutation?” Kitty asked.
Alison shrugged. “I’m going to be up front about it. I came here thinking it was a disease. But it’s who I am. I know that it’s going to be an issue in the press, but I think as long as I don’t make it, you know, a gimmick, I should be okay.
“Besides, it’ll make a hell of a show. Big flashing lights aren’t the most effective weapon in a battle, but I don’t think that’s what I have them for. I’m a performer, not an X-Man.”
“So when are you leaving?” Jimmy asked.
“I’m going into the studio in a few weeks,” Alison responded. “In London. So I’m going to be making a quick stop at Muir to give my regards to Cassidy and LeBeau, then will be recording. After that, my agent thinks that the best way to deal with me is to just get me back in the groove as quickly as possible, so we already have a world tour set up. Opening night at Madison Square Garden. And I want you guys to be there.”
"That's really cool!" Jones said, staring at the ticket. "I mean, it sucks that you're leaving but, hey, front row tickets!"
"Well, they aren't all technically front row tickets," Alison said, absently flipping through the remaining envelopes. "I kinda figured some of you would prefer second row center over watching from the corner of the stage. You'll have to fight it out amongst yourselves, and with Rogue and..." She stopped in mid-sentence, looking staring at an envelope. She looked up and around the group.
"Hey," she asked, "Where's Mr. Logan?"
"This is getting to be old hat, you know?"
Logan's hand paused over the doorknob, and he turned around to look down the hall.
"I thought I was being stealthy," he growled, adjusting the backpack over his faded brown jacket.
"You were," Marie said, leaning against the wall. "Last year I wouldn't have heard you leaving."
Logan snorted. "So you got my healing factor and my heightened senses, huh?"
"Makes for an interesting life," Rogue replied. "I can't say living in the girl's dorm is any easier. All those scented candles and bottles of lotion, and I can still smell stale bedfarts and dirty laundry. Alison's 'little friend' starts to sound like an outboard motor at about two in the morning, no matter how many blankets she's buried under. And don't get me started on walking in there five minutes after Bobby and Kitty have had some 'private time'..."
"Not one to sugarcoat things, are you?" Logan said.
"I got that from you, too," she said, smiling sadly. "Where are you going now?"
"I don't know," he replied, turning back to the door. "To do some more searching, I think."
"You can search here, too," she said. "There's such a thing as computers."
"I found some clues before I came back," Logan said. "And I think they're going to involve more than looking on the interwebs."
"Internet."
"Whatever," he said. "It's all still newfangled garbage to an old man like me. I need to find people to talk to. Books to read. Books older than what I can find here."
Marie nodded in understanding. "Can I at least give you my Christmas present before you go?"
"You're not holding anything," he replied, looking at her empty hands.
"I know," she replied. "Can you wait just one second?"
"Marie..."
"For me. Please."
Logan chuckled. "One minute."
Rogue quickly jogged down the hallway, and came back a few seconds later with a pen and a pad of paper.
"Turn around," she said.
Logan turned to the door, and felt her press the pad of paper to his back, felt the pen scribbling across the page.
"Turn back," she replied. He did so, and Marie handed him the slip.
"That's my e-mail address," she said. "Keep in touch with me this time, okay?"
"I'll try," he said, looking at her handwriting. "Can't say I'm going to be able to get to a computer very often, though."
"Turn."
"What?" he asked as she grabbed the paper from his hand. Slowly he turned again, and she started writing more. Eventually she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. He looked at the addition to the paper.
"Might not be able to get to a phone, either," he said.
"Rrrgh," she yelled in frustration, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him around again.
"Here, Grandpa," she said a minute later, a small smile on her face. "I'm not very good with smoke signals, so will an address be okay? Pen? Paper? Stamp?"
"Yeah, that should be fine," he said.
"See that?" she said, pointing to the address. "That's a ZIP code. You know how to use those, right?"
"I think I can figure it out," Logan replied.
"There should be a Pony Express station somewhere near wherever you are. Make sure to give the rider a shilling and some extra oats for his horse and it'll get here all the faster."
"Smart ass."
"I learned from the best," Rogue said, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him.
"Be safe," she said quietly, her voice thickening.
"You, too," Logan said, kissing her quickly on the forehead before she could absorb him. "I promise I'll write."
"You'd better," she said, stepping away and wiping her eyes. "Or I'll come after you."
"Yeah, I'd better watch myself," he chuckled.
"I can teleport, remember?"
"Oh, yeah." He turned to the door, and opened it.
"Logan?"
He turned around. "Yeah, Marie?"
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," he replied, and stepped out into the snow.
Previous Chapter (Epilogue) / Back to Fanfiction Page / Next Chapter (Franklin's Family)
Title: The New Mutants II, Vol. I: The New Mutants Holiday Special
Author: kanedax
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Rating: PG-13 for mild language and adult situations
Pairings: Bobby/Kitty, Peter/Rogue (if you squint), and Remy/Theresa & Sean/Moira in conversation.
Spoilers: X3, as well as my New Mutants series (see above)
Summary: The holidays are here, as some X-Men say their goodbyes, while the others get their Christmas Bonus.
Notes: Ahhh, it's nice to get back to these characters again after almost two months away. This story was initially intended to be a one-shot, bridging the gap between the final two chapters of the NM series. However, after writing it, I feel that I've introduced a few new fun plot bunnies that I might come back and do some more exploring in the coming months. As usual, I don't own the X-Men, Marvel Comics, 20th Century Fox, or any of thems.
EDIT: Had a few questions of confusion. This story takes place after the final battle in the series, but before the epilogue. Stuff dealing with Alison's coming out, Logan's disappearance, and the introduction of new students are begun here.
Previous Chapter (NM Epilogue) / Back to Fanfiction Page / Next Chapter (Franklin's Family)
A fire crackled serenely in the brick fireplace, casting a warm glow across the living room of Xavier Academy. Outside, in a front lawn which in the months previous had been the site of violence unheard of on even the most bloody of battlefields, was covered in a clean, white, drifting snow. Weather forecasters in the Westchester County area had been predicting record snowfalls for the season, along with the potential for more than a few record lows.
However, these meteorologists had recently gone back on these claims, as the almost constant flurries and sub-zero temperatures seen within the past month seem to have had tapered off within the past few days. Tonight there was a barely a dusting of snow, and the next few weeks would see a warming trend that would leave southern New York and New Jersey in a seasonably-comfortable range of 20’s and 30’s into February, as well as an early melt and an early spring.
Someone might make a connection between the deep colds and the losses that 1407 Graymalkin Lane had suffered within the past few months. They might connect the first snowfall of the season with the first deaths that this Academy had seen that season, and the dropping temperatures as some sort of reaction to the sacrifices made by four mutants during the second and final battle.
This observer might also make the connection between the warming and calming of the weather with the lightening and warming of spirits within the Academy that night.
Of course, if that observer existed, they certainly weren’t in the living room as an echoing belch reverberated through the halls.
“Logan, please, I just ate.”
“What’s the matter, ‘Ro?” Logan chuckled as the two X-Men walked into the room. “It’s a compliment to the chef.”
“Speaking as the chef,” Peter Rasputin responded as he and the other students of the Academy followed Ororo Munroe and Logan in, “I like my compliments to be a little less... gurgly.”
“I believe you did a fine job,” Kurt Wagner said through his thick German accent, patting Peter on the shoulder as the group sat down around the fire.
“Didn’t think I’d ever eat a holiday meal that featured both borscht and collared greens,” Logan said, leaning against the back wall and swallowing a slug of beer from the bottle clutched in his hand, “And I’ve had my share.”
“You can blame her for the odd collection,” Peter said quietly, pointing his thumb to the girl sitting next to him.
“Hey,” Rogue said, poking Peter’s arm with her gloved hand, “I only said that I missed some of my Mom’s usuals.”
“That’s all you said,” Peter continued. “The way you said it... the look you gave me when you said it.... it was very persuasive.”
“I don’t know who you absorbed that gave you mastery of the Puppy Dog Eyes,” Bobby Drake chuckled, “but you’ve been using them a lot in the past few weeks.”
“Why is everyone ganging up on me, all of a sudden?” Marie said, a small smile on her face.
“Wait,” Lucas Bishop said, leaning against the back of the couch between Alison Blaire and Jimmy Cameron. “She couldn’t do that before?”
“Not when I was dating her,” Bobby said. “Trust me, she tried.”
“Ah,” Lucas said. He leaned over the couch and faced Marie. “By the way, you still have the DS3 you talked me into loaning you last week.”
Logan snorted laughter, choking on a mouthful of beer. Marie whirled and gave him a whithering look. “Sorry,” he said, his mouth still cracked in a grin, “I don’t even know what he’s talking about, but it’s still damn funny.”
“The whole ‘drawing names to do dishes’ thing is fair,” Connor Jones grumbled as he and Kitty Pryde trudged into the room, “but it can also be very very cruel.”
“Dishes are done,” Kitty said wearily, plopping down next to Bobby. “Can I sit down now and just, you know, digest?”
“I gotta say, lady,” Bobby said, putting his arm around her, “You put in an impressive amount of eating tonight.”
“Yeah,” Jones replied. “I didn’t even think you were supposed to eat all that beef roast and stuffing. Cuz of Hannukah and everything.”
Alison sat up and looked at Jones with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, where do I begin?”
“Doesn’t stuffing have yeast in its bread?”
“Point number one,” Kitty sighed, flipping her index finger into the air. “Hannukah’s over. Point number two, you’re thinking of Passover.”
“I thought Passover’s the one where you’re not supposed to eat at all,” Jones said.
“That’s Yom Kippur,” Alison said.
“I thought that’s the one where you plant a cherry tree to chop it down?”
“That’s Arbor Day and some warped vision of Presidents Day,” Kitty said, rolling her eyes.
“No,” Jones said patronizingly, “Arbor Day’s the day where you put your shoes out in front of your door and get candy.”
Alison’s head dropped into her hands. “And he goes full circle back to his own religion. You know, for someone who can literally surf the Internet in his sleep, you’re kind of an idiot, Glitch.”
Ororo cleared her throat. “Now that delightful conversation’s out of the way...”
“But what about the beef?” Jones continued unabated. “I thought you’re not supposed to eat meat.”
“Good Lord,” Kitty said, “where did you get your information?”
“My brother can be very firm in his commitment to get you to see things his way,” Jones said, unconsciously rubbing his arm.
“I’m not supposed to eat unclean animals.”
“You’ve obviously never smelled a cow before.”
“I’d quote the Torah for you,” Kitty said, “but you’d probably forget. So, I’ll just say that I can eat beef. I can eat chicken, turkey, lamb, and fish. I can’t eat pork or shellfish.”
“What about venison?” Jones challenged.
“Clean,” Kitty replied.
“Rabbit?”
“Unclean.”
“Duck?”
“Clean.”
“Penguin?”
“Unclean.”
“They mention ‘Penguin’ in the Torah?”
“Again, I’d explain,” Kitty said, “But either you’d forget, or everyone else in the room would be bored to tears.”
“Jones?”
“Yeah?” he replied, turning to Ororo.
“Are you done?”
He glanced over at Kitty. “For now,” he said ominously.
“Good,” she said, walking to the middle of the room. “I wanted to talk to you all for a bit.”
“What’s up?” Bobby asked.
“As you all know,” Ororo said, “Theresa left last week to spend the holidays with her father and Dr. MacTaggert. Remy joined them, as well as Jono, who will be spending a few more months there for testing and research until he comes back here in the spring.
“As well, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Forge are splitting time between Washington and The Raft, making sure what happened there won’t happen again. I’ve already heard that Forge has given S.H.I.E.L.D. more ideas for improved safety measures than a room full of their own scientists could have come up with in five years.
“I’ve spoken to Hank and Forge, and I’ve also spoken with the Cassidys and the others in England, and I’ve come to a decision.
“I want you all to leave.”
A silence filled the room. Bishop slowly raised his hand.
“Lucas?” Ororo said.
Lucas lowered his hand and took a deep breath. “Huh?” he asked.
“A lot has happened in the past few months,” Ororo continued. “More than any X-Man has ever had to deal with. It took a toll on all of us. But when I spoke with the others, I realized that what might be good for all of us is simply time away. A month off from classes, a month away from the Academy.”
“Where are we going?” Jimmy asked.
Ororo shrugged. “That’s up to you,” she replied. “I know some of you might want to be with your family for the holidays. That’s why we’re having our little dinner tonight instead of next week.”
Bobby cleared his throat nervously, and Marie likewise looked fairly uncomfortable. Ororo turned to them and nodded.
“And I also understand that, for some of you, visiting family might not be the best option. So I’m more than willing to play chauffeur if a group of you would like to go on vacation somewhere else. The funds for the Academy are fairly deep, so expenses would be paid. Within limits, of course.”
“Damn,” Jones said. “There goes that Porche I wanted to rent for the Autobahn.”
“And, if course,” Ororo continued, “if people wish to stay at the Academy, they’re certainly welcome. I’ll be giving communicators to the X-Men in case any emergencies should arise, and will most likely be staying here for that time, just to keep things in order.”
“Wow,” Jimmy breathed.
Ororo smiled. “Call it a Christmas bonus from the X-Men.”
Ororo could almost hear the gears whirling in the silence as she sat down.
“So what do you think?” Kitty asked Bobby. “Want to come ice skating with me in Northbrook?”
Bobby turned to her, a small smile crossing his face. “You want me to meet your parents?”
“Why not?” she asked. “It’ll be fun.”
“The snow’s nice, and all,” Lucas said to no one in particular, “But I miss Georgia.”
“Between the lab and here, I haven’t seen my room in years,” Jimmy said, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t wait to go back.”
“Well, I can’t go back...” Marie said sadly.
“Me, neither,” Jones agreed.
“You two can come to Illinois with me and Bobby, if you want,” Kitty said, but Marie shrugged.
“I think I’ll let you two have some alone time with the Pryde clan, but thanks for asking,” she said.
“How about Russia?” Peter asked the two. “My parents live in Siberia, so it might not be a tropical vacation, but you are certainly welcome.”
“That might be fun...” Marie said.
“Except that Siberia for a month is kinda boring,” Jones continued.
“It is a large continent,” Peter responded. “You would not have to stay the entire month if you did not wish to.”
“Hey, yeah!” Jones said, perking up. “We can make a vacation of it! Europe, Moscow... hell, I’ve always wanted to go to Japan...”
“Mit supervision, of course,” Kurt said. “But I would gladly play tour guide in Berlin if anyone would like that.”
“I think that would be a good...” Marie said, stopping in mid-sentence. Her head tilted, and her eyes squinted in concentration. Peter saw her nostrils flare slightly.
“Marie?” he asked, reaching out to her shoulder.
“Naw, I’m fine,” she responded. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Before Peter could say anything more, she stood up and left the room.
“How about you, Albuquerque?” Bishop asked Alison. “Going home, or going touring?”
“Touring sounds about right,” she responded, standing up. “I’ll be back in a minute, too.”
“Sorry, Professor Munroe,” Bobby said, turning to Ororo. “It looks like you’re going to be tending the Academy by yourself.”
“Actually,” Ororo replied, smiling, “I was kind of hoping that this would be the case. I have to make a few trips myself, get a few meetings. The school might not be completely empty when you return.”
“More mutants?” Kurt asked. “You have some leads?”
“Two for now,” she said. “If you all are going to Tokyo, I might join you on the initial trip, and then fly you to Moscow on Forge’s new X-Jet before coming back here to have a meeting with a few people here in New York.”
“Who are you meeting with?” Kitty asked.
“A Dr. Richards, I believe his name is.”
“Dr. Richards?” Bishop asked, “Dr. Reed Richards?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of him,” Lucas responded. “I’ve read about him in some Popular Science magazines. He’s a big name in the world of quantum physics. You haven’t heard of him?”
“My bedtime reading isn’t as diverse as yours, Lucas,” Ororo said. “I’m meeting with him and his wife, along with a colleague of his, a Dr. Bruce Baxter, or something like that. Apparently the Richards have a son who’s showing some abilities, but they’re not sure if it’s a natural mutation or if it’s something that might have to do with some work the two have been working on over the past few years.”
“You mean a home-made mutant?” Jones asked. “Funky.”
“We’re all home-made,” Alison said, walking back into the room. “Just ask your mom.”
Jones paused, his mouth ajar. “Damn it,” he said eventually, “I didn’t want that mental image.”
“Find what you needed?” Ororo asked, looking at the envelopes in Alison’s hand.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ororo asked.
“Might as well,” Alison said, “Even though you already stole my thunder with this whole Christmas Break thing.”
Lucas’ eyes switched between the two women. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Ororo raised her hands, handing the stage off to the blond girl. Alison proceeded to walk around the room, handing out the unmarked envelopes to all of the students and teachers. There were a few left when she was done.
“Too many people not in the room,” she said with a touch of nervousness rarely heard in her voice. “Maybe I should have waited for everyone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ororo said. “You can mail those to the others, or they can just as easily stay here till they come back.”
“Okay,” Alison replied, sighing. She looked around the room. “Alright, stop staring at them and open your presents.”
The room was silent except for the quiet tearing of paper as the mutants opened their envelopes. They all pulled out their contents: a small cardboard slip.
“A ticket,” Peter said, looking at the rectangular card.
“Madison Square Garden,” Lucas read. “Front row seats.”
“When you guys come back from vacation,” Alison explained, “I’m not going to be here. I’m leaving the school.”
“What?” Lucas asked. “Why?”
“When my mutation first came out,” she continued, “I was on-stage. My publicist went to the media and explained that it was simply a pyrotechnic glitch, and people let it go as that. No one was hurt beyond a few people with some spots in their eyes for a few hours, so it wasn’t a big deal. But when I came to the school, I wanted to be cured. I couldn’t have a career if I was a mutant.
“But, in the past few weeks, I’ve been emailing my agent, my family, my studio rep. I’ve been writing new songs. And I decided that I didn’t want to hide anymore, and I didn’t want to be cured. I want to sing again, I want to be on stage again.”
“And your mutation?” Kitty asked.
Alison shrugged. “I’m going to be up front about it. I came here thinking it was a disease. But it’s who I am. I know that it’s going to be an issue in the press, but I think as long as I don’t make it, you know, a gimmick, I should be okay.
“Besides, it’ll make a hell of a show. Big flashing lights aren’t the most effective weapon in a battle, but I don’t think that’s what I have them for. I’m a performer, not an X-Man.”
“So when are you leaving?” Jimmy asked.
“I’m going into the studio in a few weeks,” Alison responded. “In London. So I’m going to be making a quick stop at Muir to give my regards to Cassidy and LeBeau, then will be recording. After that, my agent thinks that the best way to deal with me is to just get me back in the groove as quickly as possible, so we already have a world tour set up. Opening night at Madison Square Garden. And I want you guys to be there.”
"That's really cool!" Jones said, staring at the ticket. "I mean, it sucks that you're leaving but, hey, front row tickets!"
"Well, they aren't all technically front row tickets," Alison said, absently flipping through the remaining envelopes. "I kinda figured some of you would prefer second row center over watching from the corner of the stage. You'll have to fight it out amongst yourselves, and with Rogue and..." She stopped in mid-sentence, looking staring at an envelope. She looked up and around the group.
"Hey," she asked, "Where's Mr. Logan?"
"This is getting to be old hat, you know?"
Logan's hand paused over the doorknob, and he turned around to look down the hall.
"I thought I was being stealthy," he growled, adjusting the backpack over his faded brown jacket.
"You were," Marie said, leaning against the wall. "Last year I wouldn't have heard you leaving."
Logan snorted. "So you got my healing factor and my heightened senses, huh?"
"Makes for an interesting life," Rogue replied. "I can't say living in the girl's dorm is any easier. All those scented candles and bottles of lotion, and I can still smell stale bedfarts and dirty laundry. Alison's 'little friend' starts to sound like an outboard motor at about two in the morning, no matter how many blankets she's buried under. And don't get me started on walking in there five minutes after Bobby and Kitty have had some 'private time'..."
"Not one to sugarcoat things, are you?" Logan said.
"I got that from you, too," she said, smiling sadly. "Where are you going now?"
"I don't know," he replied, turning back to the door. "To do some more searching, I think."
"You can search here, too," she said. "There's such a thing as computers."
"I found some clues before I came back," Logan said. "And I think they're going to involve more than looking on the interwebs."
"Internet."
"Whatever," he said. "It's all still newfangled garbage to an old man like me. I need to find people to talk to. Books to read. Books older than what I can find here."
Marie nodded in understanding. "Can I at least give you my Christmas present before you go?"
"You're not holding anything," he replied, looking at her empty hands.
"I know," she replied. "Can you wait just one second?"
"Marie..."
"For me. Please."
Logan chuckled. "One minute."
Rogue quickly jogged down the hallway, and came back a few seconds later with a pen and a pad of paper.
"Turn around," she said.
Logan turned to the door, and felt her press the pad of paper to his back, felt the pen scribbling across the page.
"Turn back," she replied. He did so, and Marie handed him the slip.
"That's my e-mail address," she said. "Keep in touch with me this time, okay?"
"I'll try," he said, looking at her handwriting. "Can't say I'm going to be able to get to a computer very often, though."
"Turn."
"What?" he asked as she grabbed the paper from his hand. Slowly he turned again, and she started writing more. Eventually she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. He looked at the addition to the paper.
"Might not be able to get to a phone, either," he said.
"Rrrgh," she yelled in frustration, grabbed his shoulders, and spun him around again.
"Here, Grandpa," she said a minute later, a small smile on her face. "I'm not very good with smoke signals, so will an address be okay? Pen? Paper? Stamp?"
"Yeah, that should be fine," he said.
"See that?" she said, pointing to the address. "That's a ZIP code. You know how to use those, right?"
"I think I can figure it out," Logan replied.
"There should be a Pony Express station somewhere near wherever you are. Make sure to give the rider a shilling and some extra oats for his horse and it'll get here all the faster."
"Smart ass."
"I learned from the best," Rogue said, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him.
"Be safe," she said quietly, her voice thickening.
"You, too," Logan said, kissing her quickly on the forehead before she could absorb him. "I promise I'll write."
"You'd better," she said, stepping away and wiping her eyes. "Or I'll come after you."
"Yeah, I'd better watch myself," he chuckled.
"I can teleport, remember?"
"Oh, yeah." He turned to the door, and opened it.
"Logan?"
He turned around. "Yeah, Marie?"
"Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," he replied, and stepped out into the snow.
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