X-men: How brave men fall

Chapter 8: The one with the bunny in the hat

Chris was really feeling sick today. Not because she had just poured her heart out to John the other day, no, it had absolutely Nothing to do with that. She was just feeling really sick today, and should probably just stay in bed… until the world exploded… or hell froze over. Maybe it was for the better if she just stopped to exist here and now?

Damn it!

Why had she told him? Admitting it to him was the same as admitting it to herself. She never had these sorts of problems at home… before anyone knew she was different. Her different was good, even intriguing, not to mention C-o-n-f-u-s-i-n-g!

"Oh come on you crybaby!" Amiee suddenly shouted and pulled her covers off with a powerful tug. "Lying in your bed sulking all day won't help!"

Chris whined at her own misery and turned over to her side, facing the wall. Maybe if she just ignored Amiee, the blonde would give up and leave her alone.

She felt someone grip her foot firmly, and before she knew it, Chris was being dragged out of bed. With her arms and legs flapping violently, she fell over the edge of the bed, and hit the floor with a muffled thud.

"Ouch, what did you do that for?" she screamed at her roomie, who had the guts to just stand there, laughing! Feeling agitated, Chris gave up, sighed heavily and began to get dressed. But she was still moping.

"Seriously, you are the biggest wimp ever! If you're so damn miserable then kill yourself right now, otherwise you are coming with me, and you are going to make the best out of the situation, that's final!"

Amiee's ocean eyes pierced Chris. Feeling thoroughly annoyed by her friend, and her own indecisiveness, Chris stomped off into the bathroom and ran a comb through her hair, put on some mascara. She wasn't really looking as neat as she'd like to, but didn't manage to muster enough motivation to do anything else with herself. She stomped back into their room, still to show her annoyance with Amiee.

The two of them headed downstairs to get some breakfast together before the first class of the day. Christine was tense and jumped at every sound. She could not help but seeing John everywhere, but every time she looked closer, it was just someone else.

"Oh dear god, what am I going to do if I meet him today? Why the hell did I have to blurt out that I really like him, before I had even made my mind up if it was true or not yet?" Chris babbled on. It was the third time she'd said it now, and she probably would continue to repeat herself like that throughout the day, like a broken record.

"Okay, stop," Amiee interrupted the nervous girl's ranting. "If he does not like you that way then you will just have to deal with it, ok? And if he does you will be glad you took the opportunity, right? So quit it Chris, you can't run from life you know…" she muttered before her voice trailed off.

They reached the dining hall, which was filled with students. After taking a quick peek, Chris noticed Rogue and Bobby sitting a few feet away. There was no John in sight, and Chris sighed with relief. She threw some things onto her food tray and headed for their table with Amiee following close behind.

Rogue and Bobby's conversation died as the petite brunette saw the two girls approaching. Chris only had a second to think about why Rogue was staring at her with an intrigued expression before the girl spoke up.

"Hi Chris, Amiee," she greeted them and stared at Chris like she had never seen her before. "I like your hair," she added softly. A light began to shine within Chris's mind. Rogue had not seen her since yesterday noon, when her hair had still been blonde. She smiled slightly.

"Uh, thanks…" she trailed off and sat down next to Bobby.

"So what' up?" Amiee asked and sat down next to Rogue. At the opposite side of the table, Bobby shrugged.

"Not much," he casually said. "Just some rumour about a place where they experiment to find a way to suppress the mutant gene. Loads of gory details that makes you think the whole story is just some hoax."

Christine in her mind imagined such a place existed. A place where someone would be able to remove her ability. To never again have to worry about losing control, never again have to worry about seeing the one thing in the world you would love even if it killed you, die. What would it be like? To be normal, a common slob like the rest. To be just human, and nothing else. Suddenly something a man said in a movie resounded in her head.

"As I walked, up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd go away."

What if he would go away? It would be like being someone else. Did she know how to be someone else, would she learn? Who cared anyway, it was just a dumb rumour.

"I don't know," Aimee said next to her. "They've figured out how to do most other things, why not remove mutant powers too?"

"Do you really think so Ami?" Chris asked silently. Aimee turned to look at her solemnly, and there was a grave seriousness in her features.

"Yes, I do believe that if they haven't done it yet, they will someday, Chris." She tilted her head to the left, and looked at her. Was that pity Chris saw glinting in her eyes?

"Would you do it Chris? Would you let them change you? Take away a part of you, a part that defines you much more than your hair colour, or the number of fingers and toes you have?" Aimee sounded very serious. Chris had never thought of it that way. She let her gaze fall to the floor when she replied.

"What if it is not a wish to be normal that would make such a decision?" She fiddled with her fork and poked around in her peas.

"How do you mean?" Bobby inquired. They all seemed to be listening intently. Chris felt that it got even harder to answer.

"It's like… removing cancer from an apart from that healthy person"

Amiee seemed a little upset by this. She let her fork fall to the table with a rattling noise. And then Chris felt a hand brush her shoulder softly.

"Why would you call it cancer Chris? Because it can seem frightening?"

No. Chris shook her head. It was not frightening at all. If only it would be.

"You wouldn't understand. I probably wouldn't do it anyway. Don't think I could." Chris stared down at the table, as she suddenly felt a presence brush by her. She averted her eyes from her fork, and saw John sit down at their table opposite of her. She felt him look at her, with something she could only interpret as startles interest. She looked elsewhere, anywhere while feeling rather self-conscious.

The conversation went slow. Bobby and Rogue had finished their meals, and got ready to leave. Amiee wasn't near finished, but there was a mischievous spark in her eyes as she looked from Chris, to John, and the back to Chris.

Bobby got up and brought his tray with him.

"Me and Rogue are going to try and find Ms Grey to discuss those models she wanted us to make for that science through the ages-project. Guess we'll see you in the professors class, Chris, John." With those words he wandered off. Rogue gave them a warm smile, a wave, and then she followed her boyfriend.

Chris threw Amiee a threatening glance, trying to mentally warn her of doing anything… funny, leaving Chris alone with John. But Ami had that look in her eyes, that told Chris her intention was just so. She looked down at her watch with a sly grin.

"Oh gosh look at the time. I have a paper to revise before maths, better get going. I'll catch you kids later. You should finish your meal Chris, you're already skinny enough." Ami jumped up as if the chair had given her an electric shock, and picked up her tray. As she walked away she turned to Chris behind Johns back, and winked at the girl as if to say "Go for it" and then she was gone.

The silence was heavy. Chris fidgeted with her fork and knife, started to get ready to leave too with some forced excuse. This was too much, the pressure. She wanted to hide. John looked up from his food and gave her a look, as if he was evaluating her actions. For once his shark-faced lighter wasn't in his hand, but resting safely on his tray beside his plate. It seemed to be grinning hungrily at Chris.

"She is right you know, your friend. You should finish that."

Chris felt her head snap up, as if his words had burnt her. At least there wasn't the heavy silence, anything was better than that.

"I suppose you're right," she replied faintly and managed to press a smile that probably made her look uneasy and hysteric at the same time. She picked her fork up, pierced a piece of chicken with it, and maneuvered it into her mouth. It was completely tasteless, the texture was rubbery. She swallowed.

John seemed to have finished his meal, and had again picked up his lighter and resumed his habit of lighting it, then snapping it shut. He always stopped for a short moment to stare at the flame, and his eyes always displayed a form of intensity, so strong it verged on longing. He did not seem to have any intention of leaving anytime soon.

"You don't need to wait for me. I'm so slow anyway…" her voice trailed off and she regretted her words already. He averted his eyes to her, without really making their eyes meet. A slightly warped smile appeared on his face, and his nonchalant manner was suddenly comforting.

"Not like I have anything better to do anyway," he claimed carelessly. Chris thought of it for a second, and then replied.

"Shouldn't you be working on your fictional story for English class?" He scowled, and snapped his Zippo shut a little more violently than he usually did.

"It'll be a disaster no matter how much or little I work with it," he muttered glumly. Chris chewed another bite of chicken, swallowed and asked;

"Why do you think so?"

John shrugged, and his eyes avoided hers. He looked almost embarrassed, the way his shoulders were sloping, almost crouching in a manner that wasn't anything like his usual laid back cockiness.

"I'm just not a good writer. Don't know what to write about, and it all turns out sounding stupid anyway…"

Chris felt a little taken aback. John usually didn't talk about anything like that. As she thought of it, when did he ever get praise from any of the teachers? It was usually just them telling him not to do this and that, or to try harder. Must be hard to muster motivation when all one gets is reprimands.

"I read a quote once, that said that every person has at least one story to tell others. Maybe you haven't found yours yet. Is there nothing you can think of you'd like to tell about?"

He hesitated, she could see it on the way his shoulders tensed. There was something, but would he tell her? Chris looked own, arranged her tray and got ready to leave. She wasn't going to eat another bite of this dry poor chicken. Then John made his mind up, looked at her and to her surprise he said;

"Alright there is something I've written. But I'm not sure if I want to take it to class. Perhaps you could… look at it?"

Chris nodded her head in mute surprise. John grinned at her shocked expression, more himself again. He got up and motioned for her to do the same.

"Let's get out of here then eh. Should have enough time before it's time to get a lesson in ethics by the professor again."

He was very particular with that, the professor. To drill into his students' heads that what decided their characters was not the nature of their powers, but what they did with them. What their minds were willing to accept. Christine figured it was probably necessary. After all you don't put a gun into the hand of a 12 year old, teach him how to shoot, but says nothing of the consequences. It was a recipe for disaster. She suspected John thought it was just another opportunity for the teachers to suppress him though. He was so fascinated with his ability, sometimes too engulfed by it. So they tried to restrict him, which only made him want it more.

"What are you thinking about?" Chris flinched and returned to the present. They were in the library by now, and she was pretty sure someone had said something to her. She looked around with a dazed expression. John laughed, not just a snicker but an actual laughter, short, amused.

"I said, what were you thinking about?" The question confused Chris. Did he want to know, or was it just to throw her off?

"Just, thinking about what the professor said last time in class, about how people draw conclusions based on the facts they have at the moment, and draw a new one as soon as there is new information to add. I was just thinking, based on a theory such as that, does it work the same way with our actions. Would anyone of us be able to commit a murder based on a small fragment of all the info there was to obtain, and would anyone have been able to refrain from the killing if they had had all the information from the beginning?"

John stared at her as if she had just pulled a pink fluffy bunny out of her ear, and then claimed it was a duck. Laughter rolled up from her stomach and out of her mouth. She tried but failed to restrain herself.

"I guess I shouldn't even start explaining my view on it… You wanted me to look at your story?" she tried a friendly and encouraging smile. John however was still looking at her as if he thought she was a little odd, but reached into his bag and pulled out a couple of wrinkled pages that had been stapled together.

It had no title, perhaps he couldn't think of one, perhaps he didn't want one. She began reading. John just sat there, with his lighter, playing with the fire. Let it jump to his palm, grow larger, then extinguish.

The story was about a man, poor upbringing in a small village. He had no parents, so he grew up with an old lady who used him as a slave, always telling him that if he had been he real son he'd have taken better care of him. Then the boy turned eighteen and he left the old woman to die in her loneliness. He became a bounty hunter, making money on killing people, somehow seeking to make up for his poor childhood. And then one night, while chasing after a man with an incredible high price on his head, the boy spots a fire burning on the highest point of a giant cliff rising up ahead. As the boy reached the top of the cliff he realised it was not the man he sought up there but an old man. The man told him, that the boy's body was just a prison, until he was ready, and that the time had come for him to be released. And so the man touched the boy's chest, and suddenly the human skin dissolved, fell off and revealed, a phoenix. Its feathers were golden as it spread them. The old man warned him though, not to be too hasty with this all-new level of power he had, that it could overthrow him once his wings caught fire. But the young bird did not listen, and took off up into the blue, and there he was astonished with the power he felt in his muscles, the speed in which he could fly, how the fire seemed to almost burn in his veins. So he flew higher, pushed harder and harder. And then suddenly the bird's wings caught fire, and the power overwhelmed him. He flew faster and faster, spinning through the air beyond all control. And then the young bird crashes, and his fire is extinguished forever.

Christine was surprised by the commitment to the writing in the story, and a bit worried about the lack of optimism. A young man grows up trapped, a slave, wishing to be free. But once he finds that freedom he wants it too much, and it becomes his ruin.

"There's a couple of typos, but the content, it's marvellous. If we work a bit with the grammar, and correct the spelling misses, I think you could get a high grade for this John."

He looked up at her, and again almost seemed embarrassed.

"So you don't think its stupid?" A scowl presented on his face as he pronounced "stupid". Chris shook her head firmly.

"Not at all. This is rather great, there's commitment, an interesting plotline, engaging and there's a hidden moral to it. You should turn this in, Ms Munroe will be impressed."

They worked on the grammar and corrected the typos. Christine was tempted to try and make him brainstorm to come up with a title, but decided not to press her luck. They were almost done with the editing by the time they had to pack up and head to the professor's class. The awkwardness was gone, and thankfully Chris accepted it and relaxed. At least he wasn't avoiding her, and still treating her as a friend. They arrived last to class, but within the time limit and found that Rogue had kept seats by her and Bobby for them. Today the professor talked first about how the brain associates to things depending on how we experience them. And then they were asked to fill in papers handed out addressing moral dilemmas, such as out of 10 people, how should the hospital prioritise their health care, and so on.

Chris though it was all very interesting, but was rather glad no such decisions were up to her. It was too hard to pick who deserved something more than someone else. Hard to justify it in her mind, and it made her nervous.

After class Chris, Rogue, Bobby, Kitty and John headed off to the last class for the day. They were accompanied by another person in their age group, Piotr. He was a bit on the silent, careful side, but he was a nice fellow, and Chris felt at home with him right away. Rogue again seemed slightly, if only a little bothered by her boyfriend's apparent friendship with Kitty. John didn't say a word, but it wasn't that surprising.

After mathematics with Jean Grey ended Chris stayed behind in her seat as the other students left the classroom. Rogue signalled that she wanted to chat with her later, and Chris gave her a nod to confirm that she'd find her when she was done with Ms Grey… or when Ms Grey was done with her. John left the classroom without giving her one look, which wasn't unusual so she didn't pay any attention to it.

"So miss Duveau, the professor and I think that you may be ready to confront your ability again. Please come with me." Jean requested and walked out of the classroom and into the empty corridor. Jean walked to the middle, looked around as if to reassure herself of that no one else was around, and then she pressed the wooden panel with her hands firmly. It caved inwards. And then began to slide apart to reveal the elevator that took them down to the underground levels. They both stepped in, and both the door, and the panel on the wall slid shut. They began moving down. Inside, Chris felt she wasn't ready at all to face her ability yet, but she was too shy to tell Ms Grey. So she kept her mouth shut, but felt sick, sick with cancer eating up her insides.

Jean guided her into a big empty room. It was actually completely empty, nothing on the walls or on the floor. The wall to the right of the door had a smaller section where a window had been placed. Chris knew the glass was both shatter and heat resistant, and that people could stand on the other side of it in a small room, and watch the one inside. She was unsure though if this room had always been empty, it just didn't seem to fit

"Alright Christine, we feel it is about time you stop fearing your own potential. We do realise that your connection to your creations is very strong, and we will do our best to make sure no harm comes to them, as long as you can keep them in check so they do not harm someone else, sounds fair?"

Chris nodded silently, but instantly felt the worry tear in her. Was this going to end well? Jean smiled kindly.

"Don't look so worried, it'll be alright. Though our first point of interest is you managing to control which kind of creation you produce, as you seem capable of several. I'd like for you to make a mental image of something safe, a herbivore perhaps, something completely non-malevolent. Do you see it?" Jean instructed while she stepped back, quite frankly as far back from Chris as she could come in the room. Chris saw it, a small fluffy bunny. It had been named Frank, and she had loved it above anything else when she was six years old. She gave Jean another nod to show her she saw it in her mind.

"Alright now Christine, I want you to keep that imagine in your head while you use your power." Chris felt her eyes flicker to Jean, and couldn't help the worried frown that formed on her face. But Jean just smiled reassuringly, and nodded as if to urge her on. So Chris thought of Frank, and hoped it wouldn't be one of the big ones as she found the mental gate in her mind, and let it open so it stood ajar. Beside her a shadow formed, a black pool of nothingness. It expanded quickly, grew and grew until it was her size, and then twice her size. Chris saw Jean raise her hands defensively, and for a second the image of Frank blurred inside of her. At the same time she heard something, a drawn out noise that was something like a crossing between a sigh, and a screeching whinny. Suddenly the hairs on her body stood up, and the image of her cute bunny perished. The shadow beside her faded slowly, revealing something big. "A horse," she thought. "I imagined a bunny, and got a horse. Isn't that just my luck?" But then she saw it wasn't a horse either. The big creature had the built of a horse, but its hoofs were cleft in two, like a goat. It had a tail, but there were no hairs on it. Instead, at the tip, it had something that looked like a big stinger. Christine swallowed hard, and then her eyes moved towards its head. No mane clad its neck, just thin and grey skin without any fur. It turned its head, and looked right at her through milky white eyes. Its muzzle came closer and closer to her face, sniffed her. The air it blew out was hot, so hot she felt her mascara start to melt. Hot like an oven inside. Then its lips parted slightly, revealing not the big rectangular teeth of an herbivore, but fangs that glistered in the light from the ceiling.

At the other side of the room, Jean moved with a cautious look on her face. And then the horse swung its head around and its milky eyes fixed upon the woman. A threatening, deep and booming whinny came out of its throat, and its muscles tensed. It lunged itself forward, with a speed that baffled Christine. It might not be the most agile of creatures, but damn it moved fast. Jean's eyes flicked to Chris with a warning look, and Chris realised it was up for her to stop it, before Jean was forced to defend herself. She threw her arms up into the air.

"Stop!" she yelled "Stop, stop. I command you to stop!" she hadn't needed to go that far. The minute the first shout for the creature to stop had escaped her lips, the creature had sat down on its hocks, putting all it's weight backwards and slid into a halt. It straightened up, turned its head and looked at her again. Its eyes were dull, but the rest of its body signalled that it was paying close attention to her. Listening, and waiting, as if it understood.

"Come here," she tried, and right away the creature turned, and came back to her with a steady walk. It had very long strides, longer than the average horse. Or so Chris thought, since she hadn't really met a horse before. It stood still before her, and she took its head in her hands, feeling reassured in a strange way.

"Well Christine, not quite the herbivore I had in mind, but it seems to respond to you in a good way." Jean moved closer to them, and the horse-creature slicked its ears back and gave Jean a threatening look.

"It obviously does not like me," Jean commented in a low, thoughtful voice. The eyed the creature with interest. "Now for the real question though. Can it be recalled? As in, can you make it disappear again Christine?" Ms Grey turned her dark eyes to Chris who shrugged.

"I'll try," she replied with a weak voice. She didn't want it to disappear. Why could it just not stay here, with her? If she made it disappear, would it ever come back? She looked it in the eyes, and in her mind they walked back to the gate that was still ajar. They looked at eachother and in her mind she asked the creature "Will you go back through?" But it just looked at her.

"I can't back it go back," Christine sighed, half disappointed, half relieved. Jean gave her a bit of a wondering glance.

"Go back?"

"Yes… it works a bit like there is a gate in my mind they come through. But he does not seem willing to go back through it," Chris explained and wondered if no one else's powers worked like that.

"Oh," Jean exclaimed and then seemed to think for a second before she continued. "It's alright Christine, you probably need some more practise, but if there really is a mental gate, then making them return through it should be possible in the end." Then Jean averted her eyes to the horse-creature again. "It is a he you said. Then to the question what we should do with him. First thing would be to get him out of here… but how?" Jean pondered.

Chris had no idea what to do. It wasn't as if he would fit into the elevator, and even if he had, they couldn't have one of these walking around in the house. Same went for the school grounds. He'd have to be hidden somewhere, but how? Jean made her mind up.

"Wait here, I will go to the professor and ask him what our options are," she told Chris and then made for the door. It shut behind Ms Grey, and Chris was alone with her creation. It had shut its eyes in her arms, and she was pretty sure it held its breath not to hurt her. She wondered how long it could do that, not breathe. She let her hand stroke over one of its ears, and the grey skin was surprisingly soft, but cold to the touch. Warm on the inside, cold on the outside…

"Don't worry," she whispered to it. "I will take care of you." The creature upon those words raised its big head, and its white eyes, so alike hers in a way, pierced her. It almost seemed to be saying something.

Quite the contrary, I'm the one who is here to take care of you.