Chapter Text
First it’s the smell of cigarettes, cloying and subtle. Almost as though it was part of a person’s scent instead of the smoke itself. It’s always the scents that come to her first, and this was part of one dream that has been incessant lately. Since just before Christmas, these vague dreams of smoke, a voice, and eyes permeated her nights.
“Aww c’mon cher, how long y’ gonna hide from dis homme?”
“Who says I’m hiding?” she immediately quips.
But she is; not just hiding from one person, but from everyone. It’s so much easier to be alone, to not constantly ‘feel’ everyone else emotions around you. To not always be on your guard, to not be hunted…
“Y’ know I can help y’, mon cher. Just lemme find y’.”
The sound of that voice, the low, husky tones that practically bleeds with the protectiveness and care of a lover, was enough to make her consider his request, just for a moment. But it’s not real. This isn’t the voice of a man that she knows. This isn’t a man of the present. He is just a shadow; a wisp of a future that may never come to fruition, which could drift away like smoke he smelled of. It was just one of many possible futures that could unfold for her. It’s nothing that she should hold onto, to hope for. Oh, but she wants to! The siren song that he sings seeps into her, teasing and tempting her. What would it be like? To not be alone? To not constantly look over your shoulder? To have someone who has your back?
“I don’t need help.”
She couldn’t give into it. No matter how much she may want to, how much she knows that she may truly need it. She knows that this is true, but this sweet nightly torture seems to be never-ending. Taunting her with the things she could never have.
A disappointed sigh echoes through the darkness, “Y’ know dat I won’t wait f’ever cher. I’ll find y’, whether y’ want me to ou pas.”
It’s then that I see his eyes, burning red irises in a sea of black midnight. The eyes of a devil, the eyes of an angel. She’s still can’t decide which they are, even when she’s startled out of her dream.
It was the spike of fear that she felt that awoke her. Someone was very afraid and close. It was surprising and worrying as her cabin was high in the Adirondack Mountains. She had found the place, abandoned, for years it seemed, and quietly moved in with no one the wiser. It was perfect as she was far from any hiking trails and there were no other cabins for miles around. Complete and total isolation, perfect for an empath who just wanted to be left alone. And if the remoteness was not enough, the subtle waves of “keep away” she emitted should’ve been enough to turn any would be explorers away. But not this intruder. Whoever this person was had enough fear and desperation coursing through their veins that any redirection, subtle or otherwise, was ignored completely.
I should go check it out. Good thing I fell asleep while reading again.
Rising from the worn, tan couch, the woman disregarded her slightly wrinkled blue jeans and green t-shirt, pushing back the errant strands of coppery hair that had escaped from her braid. Slamming into her boots and throwing on her leather jacket, so worn that it had become buttery soft, she quickly grabbed the gun hidden away in the box beneath her couch, tucking it into the ankle holder on her right leg and raced out the door. The fear was starting to become full on panic as she raced towards the source, securing her mental shields, like deadbolts on impenetrable doors, as she went. It wouldn’t do for a rescuer to go into a panic as well from emotional overload. Deftly weaving her way through the barren trees and snow laden landscape, she quickly came across the source of fear. A young man, an amateur camper by the looks of it, was barreling towards her, followed by what seems to be…a bear?! Her steps stuttering, the woman slid to a stop as she gaped in disbelief. It was the dead of winter; it should still be deep in hibernation. Then there was a tickle at the back of her mind, distracted she regarded the man again.
Fuck.
A mutant, newly unleashed powers and an angry bear.
Figures.
The man saw her in that moment and screamed, “Help me!”
He raced towards her as the bear unleashed another angry bellow. Acting quickly, the woman reached out, touching the animal’s mind with her own. Anger, confusion and pain swirled around in an unrelenting torrent. The poor creature must have been accidentally hurt when the new mutant’s power had been unleashed. Pushing away those feelings, she replaced them with soothing and comforting ones, calming the beast until it stood still in the clearing before her, it’s snout brushing her hand. With the same calmness, she regarded the bear as she stroked the muzzle gently.
“Go,” she said, with a touch of her mind compelling the creature, “Go back to your rest.”
The bear regarded her with one more look from its warm brown eyes before turning and walking away. The woman continued to watch as the bear slowly melted back into the woods. Behind her, the man, boy really as he looked much younger that she originally had thought, was pulling in large, gasping breaths as she felt the fear fade into relief and then, inevitably, curiosity.
“How did you do that?”
Glancing over her shoulder, she watched him silently.
“I-I mean it just stopped and walked away! Like nothing happened! Did you do that?”
The boy was already asking too many questions. Seen too much.
He needs to go.
Giving the boy a slight smirk, she turned fully towards him.
“Not sure what you mean, Mr.?”
“Oh Mark, my name Mark. But you saw what happened; raging animals don’t just suddenly calm down and walk away. Who are you?”
“Alright Mark, I want you to calm down and listen to me very carefully,” she leaned close to his ear and whispered as she once again reached out mentally, “Sleep.”
The effect was instant as the boy dropped to the snow covered ground, his eyes drooping sleepily.
“Name’s Rowan by the way.”
Then there was nothing.
That night, a young man was found passed out in front of the ER bay, a note crammed into the pocket of his heavy winter coat.
‘You should call Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.’