Spring Break

--- Day 8, Saturday

The sun was just breaking the horizon as Kurt, Kitty, Sam and Ray lifted off in Blackbird-2 so that they could become familiar with the controls. Gambit would be the pilot, with the others getting time on the new aircraft as co-pilots. Remy was nervous, both of them had more time on Blackbird-1 than he did, but he'd had a whole six hours on the new one; as the most experienced pilot among them, Nightcrawler was conducting this check flight.

Remy and several of the others were doing a check of Velocity, the others would be along in a while. The only reason they were checking the aircraft now was that pessimism and paranoia could be catching. Remy and Kurt both wanted to be sure that no one had been messing with what was without a doubt the two hottest aircraft withing two hundred miles. A check of the on board computers showed no one had been within twenty yards of the two black craft. The security systems had been set up to make a warning announcement if anyone was closer than 25 feet. If anyone had touched them, cell phones would have rung.

Blackbird would take the students north. Velocity would be flown west by Kurt and Rogue; Remy had suggested they get some sister-brother time while fetching Logan and Laura.

---sb8

"Is that everything?" Logan slid his canteens into his pack. He'd set his watch alarm for an hour ago so they could break camp in the dark. They could have used their visors' nightvision mode, but neither of them took Forge's technology toys from their packs.

Working by scent, touch and eyes designed to be almost feline in their efficiency, Laura surveyed the campsite again. They'd scattered their firewood and Logan had just filled in the small hole they had made their fire in. The coals were completely dead- this had been her second trip to fill water bottles since waking up. She searched her pack, inventorying it by touch and memory. Everything was in it's place. Tarp, blanket, cordage, what was left of her food, some spare clothes. Fire starting kit. Camera. Emergency radio beacon, mirror. Two trap triggers that finally worked.

They would scatter the grasses they had gathered for ground insulation as they went.

Footprints. A little blood. A couple small scrapes on some trees from where they had tied their tarps that she had already apologized for. A few stray hairs. That was all that was staying behind.

With a slight smirk, she clapped her hand on Logan's shoulder. She had everything she'd brought with her except for a parachute and some of her past.

It would be a jog to get back to where they had left their jump gear, and make the link up with Velocity.

---sb8

Professor Xavier watched at the new jet settled through the open hatch, the down blast of the powerful jet engines tossing small debris around. Blackbird-2 was a beautiful aircraft, it looked almost like a living thing rather than something made. He'd already read the first reports from Kurt and Remy- he wanted to try it himself.

He rolled back from the windows and out of his study. His hand still ached, felt bruised when he entered the elevator, going down to the basement. The were just coming through the blast door when he wheeled out. There were various comments on his forehead. "Welcome home everyone. I'll explain everything in due time. I'm sorry to put you to work so soon after your flight, but the others will be here shortly. Let's get Blackbird-2 off the landing pad and under cover, Blackbird-1 will be here shortly."

There were one or two groans, but more happy noises with the thudding of their bags on the floor. The news meant that they'd be together again. Once Velocity got back, everyone would be here. Everyone would be home. It had been almost twenty days since they'd been complete. They knew their friends were battered and beaten, but they could be taken care of here. Sam clapped his hands together. "OK, we've all moved the old jet before, new one isn't much different. We all know what to do. Come on, we can do it in ten minutes people."

They hadn't been told yet about Twister's death. That was being withheld from the media for the moment. Most felt a flare of guilt for having relaxed while their friends and teachers were risking life and limb. Dani had been talking with Kitty about the possibility of another trip, something away from towns and cities maybe, just after graduation so that the others could have some down time. It sounded like they'd need it.

"Oh, Tabitha? Come here, please." Charles looked at the young blond. "May I see it please?"

Blushing, Tabby pulled up the sleeve of her tshirt, baring the tattoo. She twisted her arm about a little, letting the Professor see it in all it's glory.

"That is nice work. The seam is a little off, but most people won't see it under your arm."

"You mean I'm not in trouble?" Boomboom's eyes were wide, only slightly less so than Kitty's.

"No, you are not being punished because of the tattoo, Tabitha. They used a fresh needle, kept it clean? Good- did they tell you how to take care of it the first few days?" She nodded. "Very good, ignoring a new tattoo is a punishment in itself, because it will never look good and you'll be stuck with it."

"Professor!? She's not in trouble?" Kitty was shocked. She'd been looking forward to Tabby getting grounded or at least lectured.

"Tabitha is 18; just barely, but legally an adult. So long as she paid with her own money and doesn't violate the Institutes's honor code, we will honor anyone's freedom of expression so long as it doesn't interfere with her or other's studies, training or a mission." He glanced back up at Tabby, pointing with two fingers. "But I hope you are happy with it young lady, because it is with you forever. If you have it taken off, it will hurt as much if not more than getting it did, and leave marks which will last as long as the tattoo."

If Tabby was curious about how calmly Professor X was taking this before, the defense and then vehemence. This was a glimpse at something she knew she'd never know- she probably wouldn't even be able to wheedle it out of Magnus. She stared. The Professor stared back. "Professor? You've had a tattoo taken off?"

Charles Xavier chuckled. He had only heard descriptions of the removal process, but he'd never find out. His little green feet were staying right where they were.

Tabby and Kitty was still staring when he wheeled away. He had a tattoo. Professor Xavier had a tattoo. It had to be. The Prof had ink. They glanced at each other; both blinked. This was like finding out that there was no Santa Claus, or walking in on your parents being kinky.

---sb8

The airspace near the Institute was always a mess of departing and arriving aircraft. They'd orbited over the ocean for twenty minutes before New York Control cleared them to drop to a five hundred feet and make their rather unique approach. He hadn't expected the 'welcome home' they'd gotten from the air traffic controller at ZNY; they had even switched their call sign from X-Ray Bravo One, but their transponder code was fixed. That was probably how it was known.

Scott knew he was probably worrying over nothing but where the acknowledgment that someone knew of their involvement in Kansas with this aircraft concerned them. Most people would appreciate it, but he wouldn't relax until he had all his wheels on the ground and the engines powered down. Then the debrief. A shower. And he'd apologize to Magnus. Scott was willing to admit he'd been out of line. Reluctantly. Grudgingly. He'd rather play in the road again, but he knew the Professor would insist. If he was going to be a team leader, he had to do it before then. Then he was going to go to bed and pass out for a few days. He didn't think he'd wake up even if Jean pushed him out of bed.

Hank was worried about Jamie. They'd buried his parents, and a judge had declared Multiple a ward of the Xavier Institute yesterday morning. Jamie still hadn't decided what would happen to the farm, other than agree to have one of the neighbors take care of the fields this season. He'd get a cut of whatever they sold the crop for after the property taxes. But in the past few weeks, Jamie had become bitter and withdrawn. The decision to take him out of the actual hunt in the field had made it worse. At least when there was a chance he'd be able to actually get his hands on the mutant who had murdered his parents he was able to use the anger he had in him. Now it seemed all bottled up; he and Roberto would keep an eye on the 'little guy'.

Storm in the co-pilot seat, also concerned. She was worried about Jamie, and the others. Not just the New Mutants, she also regretted what the Brotherhood had become. She was willing to believe that throwing Twister to his death was to save their own lives, but several of them were decent enough to be deeply bothered by it. She was also worried about Laura, who she was going to put in as her number two on the grounds staff if she was coming back. If Laura wasn't, then Logan probably wasn't, and she would miss him greatly.

Jamie was watching the flight engineer's console in silence. They had fixed the worst of the damage, the only had a few warnings and they were all for minor systems that didn't effect the operation of the aircraft. He could feel Hank watching him, but he knew why. He was going to try to talk to the Professor tonight. He wasn't leaving, he really didn't have anyplace to go other than back to the farm and he wasn't sure if he wanted the memories always there.

Amara was looking out her window. In a little bit, she'd be seeing the rest of her friends. Bobby sat beside her, snoring. Roberto had reluctantly strapped himself in on the other side of the aisle as they started their approach- his back hurt from where the first set of stitches tore, laying flat on the floor was more comfortable. Bobby had five bucks that said that Rhaine would tear some of this second batch hugging Roberto; Amara had taken him up on the bet.

Magnus looked at the bag of drawings next to him. It had had been his creation, and it could have done more than end lives. In his hands, a refined version could change the magnetosphere that protected the Earth; in the hands of a powerful telepath like Jean, it could potentially shatter the world. He wasn't sure if even the Institute was the right place for this knowledge; SHEILD certainly wasn't to be trusted with it, no nation or corporation could be. Maybe he was too dangerous, period. He had to think long and hard about his next move, but first he'd see to his young friends. Magnus sighed softly just before they landed, as they passed over the old Brotherhood house.

---sb8

Laura snapped from her meditation when they dropped into rotorcraft mode. Like most of the students, she found the transition from fixed wing to helicopter flight unsettling- for that moment, Velocity had the flight characteristics of a bottle rocket.

She double checked that everything was secured, before moving forward to look between Rogue and Logan's shoulders. Kurt was slumped in one of the passenger seats, sleeping. The early evening lights on either side of the Sound flashed past. They must have looped out over Connecticut and come down low over the water to avoid JFK and LGA's flight paths. The water was rippling under them not twenty feet away. She could see their collision lights blinking against the waves.

She took a deep breath. She was better. She'd never be best, not emotionally. She would always be defective like that. But maybe all humans were that way. Her only real baseline was the members of the Xavier Institute, and she knew they were different, but they couldn't be all that different from normal people, could they?

The violet marker of the Xavier Institute beacon lit against the windscreen, throbbing gently. The made a low pass- the vertical cover for the hanger was open already. Four bands of lights flickered inside, showing the way down. There were lights throughout the mansion. The Xavier Institute was ablaze with life.

She felt the mental waves from Betsy and Jean.

She looked through the armoured polymer that formed the cockpit windows. Standing behind a shield of air, Professor Xavier, Ororo and Alex were waiting for them just inside the blast door.

She was home. She might leave for recreation or training, and certainly for missions. Missions should be as far away as possible, because this was her home, this is the safe place she'd return to.

---Author's notes:

If I sound like I know exactly what is in Logan and Laura's packs, yep. Logan has my old one, rigged for desert; Laura has my newer, "high speed" one.

As I said before, in print canon, Xavier had once been in the military, in a special unit that found the lost. And there was and still is a unit that still does insane missions, but primarily as medics. Some of the finest damn trauma and rescue medics on the planet, to be precise. I'll probably piss off some old friends, or get a huge laugh from them over Chuck's ink.

And if you know what that tattoo means, then you know what he was before getting hurt. The capabilities of a man so trained and so gifted almost scares me, but then, Magnus was something once razor sharp to...

And I really fracking hate it when gets a bug up its nose and strips out my scene breaks. Hopefully these ones will be a bit more permanent.

SO, next post will be part of They Never Trained Me For This.

---sb8

The desert sun shown without pity on the pile of rocks that had come to be over the past few days. It wasn't very big to a human, but it loomed over the smaller creatures that were native to these sands. About six feet long, and three wide, there were others like it in the general area, disappearing with time. The sand would start to mount up, gradually. It would be centuries before this cairn would disappear.

Other humans would come. Most wouldn't know what it was. They might take pictures of the scratchings, wondering what they meant- probably a survey marker. The snakes and spiders and scorpions didn't care about what was under it, this was their land. The mice and the rats only cared because of what lurked among the rocks. For hawks and owls and coyotes, it was would just be a landmark when the mostly-human scent left it.

Though it lay empty, Laura had buried her past in the desert, in this shallow grave of sand and rock. The largest rock lay at the north facing end of the cairn, her old name chipped into it. X-23 was dead.

And in years to come, sometimes a traveler would come back with a strange tale. One of a dark and angry spirit in the form of a young girl, howling her rage in the wind, clawing at the night sky.

But stranger tales have come out of the desert.