Chapter 2
The front lawn of Xavier’s was an expanse of dark grass and gravel leading to the front gate, and at the other end of the driveway was the front porch where Lane now sat. They had scarcely moved from their earlier spot on the couch all day, only opting to rethink their position when Wade had received a call on his cell.
“You want to come with and bust some heads? Could help you out of your funk.”
“Think I’ll pass. Thanks.”
They had followed him out and instead of going back inside, had simply sat there on the porch swing and watched as day turned into evening, then evening into night.
The sky was salted with stars, minuscule points of light in an endless darkness, and it struck Lane as odd that they couldn’t remember the last time they had looked at the stars. That wasn’t particularly special - they couldn’t remember a lot of things - but had their past self ever taken a moment between committing various atrocities to stop, and look up at the sky? They supposed they didn’t ever have to, what with the stars now permanently scarred into their flesh, but the ones in the sky looked more…peaceful. The stars in their skin were angry.
Or maybe it was just Lane that was angry. Not at Piotr, not anymore really - that was more embarrassment than anything, undercut by a deep sadness and a feeling of being suddenly stripped to the bone before him. No, they were angry at themself. For forgetting the diary out there in the first place, for thinking that all of their past could be left in a book and just forgotten, that it wouldn’t come back to bite them in the ass sooner or later, for -
Lane’s eyes darted upwards to the brazier as the porch lights flicked on and the front door opened.
“Missed you at dinner.”
Lane eyed Logan as he stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind him. He made no effort to step any closer, instead opting to press his back against the wall and survey the lawn. He had a glass bottle in one hand, and Lane had the briefest thought if he’d get in trouble if someone saw him drinking; but then again, they doubted if anyone could discipline him, save for the Professor.
“Wasn’t hungry.” Lane responded after a long pause.
“Piotr was looking for you.”
At the mention of his name, Lane’s stomach did a nauseous twirl and sank somewhere by their feet. They did their best to remain expressionless, cool as a cucumber with their eyes returning to the front lawn.
“Don’t really want to see him right now. Just wanted to be alone.”
The gruff man exhaled a low sigh and drained the remainder of his bottle, holding it in his hand and tracing the lip of the glass with his thumb. The shadows sat heavily under his eyes - not giving him a gaunt or haggard appearance, but it became easier for Lane to imagine the years hidden behind this visage of a man in his late forties. He was at least three times that, and only now in the quiet evening did it show. Lane wondered if their face would be the same, if their healing ability would create the same agelessness but still look so tired.
“Look, I don’t know the situation and I don’t want to know, that’s between you two. But Pete’s a good friend, and a good guy. Seems to think it’s all his fault, whatever happened.” Logan paused, his eyes giving Lane a once-over. "Heard you aren’t doing so hot, either.”
A muscle in Lane’s jaw jumped, molars gritting together. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”
“Bullshit.”
Their cheeks began to burn as Logan crossed his arms and locked their eyes to his in a staredown. Lane stiffened in their seat and debated if they could make an excuse for a sudden exit, the muscles in their legs tensing preemptively to flee, but frozen under Logan’s dark gaze.
If I knew we were doing this I’d have asked him to get me a beer, too.
“You’re hurt and you’re pushing everyone away, thinking it’s easier on everyone else if you suffer alone. I lived that for nearly a decade before coming here, so don’t try to bullshit me by saying you’re fine. You’re not, and it’s not easier on anyone else who cares about you. Hell, you’ve been walking around here like a goddamn phantom lately. Has all that work with Xavier gone in one ear and out the other? You’re smarter than that.”
The burning in their cheeks increased tenfold as hot tears formed in the corners of their eyes. Lane hastily blinked them back and, finally breaking his gaze, stared down at their feet. “Well maybe I’m just an idiot, you ever thought about that?”
From above, Logan’s stance relaxed. He even chuckled a bit. “You hang out with Wilson voluntarily, so that remains to be seen. Do you think that?”
Lane huffed. “Right about now? Yeah, yeah I think that’s pretty apt. I feel like for every step forward I take, I shoot myself in the foot and end up thirty steps backwards. Piotr…he’s my friend, and I let myself get so…scared. Of him, of myself and all these weird feelings that are all there when he’s there, and…god I’ve been icing him out instead of trying to talk to him. He doesn’t deserve that.”
Logan sighed. “No, he doesn’t, but try not to be too hard on yourself. You just…”
He trailed off, and Lane looked up from their feet to see Logan’s attention had been pulled somewhere off in the distance. His nostrils flared once, twice, and he suddenly whipped his head to the side like a dog hearing a far off whistle.
Lane coughed and shuffled their feet. “Um, is this a subtle way of telling me I should shower? I know it’s been a bit but -”
“Go get Storm, tell her we have company.”
“Wait, where are you -?”
Logan didn’t give them a chance to answer as he took off in a dead sprint off the covered porch, his empty bottle shattering somewhere in the driveway as he rounded the corner of the house and disappeared beyond Lane’s view. Lane sat there for a moment, bewildered by his sudden absence before collecting their bearings and rising to their feet to go back inside.
‘We have company?’ That can’t be good.
The grandfather clock in the foyer read 9:30, and other than Lane it was the sole occupant of the room. The students would be winding down for the evening, lounging in one of the rec rooms or waiting in line for the shower, one or two nocturnal stragglers searching for snacks in the kitchen. One of the staff, or an unlucky senior student, would be supervising movie night in one of the larger rec rooms whilst others could be grading papers or getting ready for bed in a similar fashion.
“Shit, okay, find Storm. Shit, shit, shit,” Lane murmured, willing their feet to move, to run down the hallway and to the woman’s office.
Locked, no lights on. Shit.
Lane groaned and turned on their heel, heart beating in their throat as they rounded the corner back into the empty foyer and took off in a run down the opposite hallway. Dread had weighted their steps, pulling against their legs like quicksand as they ran across carpet and hardwood until they could hear voices from an open doorway.
“Quintin, it’s cheating if you use powers.”
“Cry me a river Idie, that was an all natural move!”
The two students occupying the room - one a willowy, dark skinned girl with braided hair and the other a young man with pink hair and glasses - paused their argument dead in its tracks and eyed Lane warily as they barreled into the rec room and nearly toppled into the ping-pong table.
“Storm, where?” They panted out, eyes darting between the two very confused students.
“Um, upstairs I think?” The boy with pink hair said with a raised eyebrow. “She’s the movie night supervisor.”
Lane had little time to ruminate on the looks the two students gave them as they ran out of the room and pounded down the hallway. Their breath came in hard puffs as they rounded the corner and ascended the stairs to the mezzanine, the beating of their heart now a rapid pounding in their ears as they took off down the corridor as fast as their feet would take them. Which wasn’t fast enough as they reached the largest of the rec rooms and flew through the doorway that all the lights flickered and plunged into darkness; from inside the room a murmur of confusion rose amongst its occupants as the TV similarly went dark.
A sweat had broken out underneath Lane’s armpits and gathered on the back of their neck, now cold and clammy as the feeling of dread splintered and sluiced up their spine like a piece of arctic ice broken free from a larger chunk. It reached their brain stem and latched on, sending icy waves down their body that raised the hair on their arms and sent goosebumps down their legs.
We have company, and they just cut the power.
Ororo’s calm, clear voice rose above the din of confusion that began to fill the room. “Everyone stay calm, the emergency generator should come on soon.”
As if to accentuate her point, there was a mechanical rumbling that could be heard from somewhere beneath the house; the lights flickered and returned, albeit noticeably dimmer than before. The TV was still dark, but it had now been forgotten as the students’ eyes flicked between Ororo, who now stood upright at the front of the room, and Lane who had frozen in the doorway.
“Lane?” Ororo asked, “what’s the matter?”
Lane swallowed, finding their tongue now a dry, useless hunk of meat sandwiched between their shivering jaws. Their eyes swept the room, the children, and then landed on Ororo’s. Go get Storm, tell her we have company.
“Logan - he, we…have company?” Lane panted, urging the words to come out faster than their mouth would form them. “He told me to find you, and then he ran.”
The shift in Ororo’s demeanor was instantaneous, her eyes flashing white for a split second and the hair on her shoulders beginning to billow in a sudden air current that lifted into the room At her hands, tiny arcs of electricity had gathered at her fingertips. When she spoke, her voice radiated power and authority that made Lane feel just the slightest bit better and slightly awestruck at the display.
“Everyone, find your buddy and remember our safety training. Lane, with me.”
The students scattered as Ororo and Lane proceeded out of the room and down the hallway, the white-haired woman’s feet lifting off the ground as she glided down the stairs and into the front foyer where a crowd had formed, and light was streaming into the large windows from outside on the front lawn. Lane shielded their eyes and squinted, trying to see past what they thought to be floodlights - two of them set up squarely just in front of the entrance to the school lawn. Around the lights were other shapes, cars and vans and trucks, and humanoid shapes as well. Bulky, armored shapes mingling at the gate but making no move to breach it. Less than 200 yards away from the front door.
Ororo pushed to the front of the crowd and Lane followed, parting through the gathered students just in time to see one of the figures raise something to their face and begin to speak. A bullhorn, Lane realized, as an angry voice crackled and boomed over the lawn.
“Attention mutants and mutant concealers. We are the Friends of Humanity, sent to cleanse the evil from earth. We have come in peace with the intention of removing mutants from the property to then be detained by the DMC. We are armed, and we will use force only if met with resistance. We will give you five minutes to remove any and all mutants from the property. This is your first and final warning.”
“They can’t do that. That’s trespassing, right?” Someone murmured.
“I don’t think they care about that right now. They’re on a mission from god.” The pink-haired boy said grimly from behind Lane.
“That’s not funny.”
“Should we call the cops?”
“And tell them what? I bet most of Westchester’s police force is out there with them.”
“Alright, all students get away from the windows, now.” Ororo said with an authority in her tone that made everyone perk up to listen. “This is to be treated as an emergency situation. Find your buddy - well wake them up if you have to! - and get to the tunnels. Stay calm, and stay alert. Just like we practiced.”
From somewhere deeper in the house, there was a sound of shattering glass that made Lane and several of the other students jump.
We have company, and they are outside of the house, and maybe now inside the house.
“Go, now!” Ororo roared at the frozen students, a crash of thunder from outside making the windows shake in their frames. The crowd quickly dispersed as a storm began to rage outside, accompanied by a thick layer of fog that had rolled over the lawn and tucked the mansion inside. Lane watched as the students ran their separate ways, some of the younger ones beginning to cry but shepherded through the corridors by the older students wearing grim expressions. Like they had done this before, and were simply going through the motions.
“Lane, find as many of the staff as you can and tell them what’s going on - most probably know already but without Jean or the Professor here we don’t have a telepathic link. If you find any students, get them to safety as quickly as possible.”
“And if I find anyone else?”
Lane looked back to Ororo to see that her eyes had now fully transformed to a milky white, and her hands were on the doorknob. The wind whipped her hair around her shoulders as she threw open the door and stepped onto the porch, then took off into the sky with a sort of grace that Lane previously imagined was reserved for angels or other beautifully terrifying beings about to go on a rampage.
They turned just as the door forcefully slammed shut and another rumble of thunder erupted from the sky, their teeth rattling in their skull from the force of it.
And then they were alone, the mansion now strangely quiet once again.