DISCLAIMER: If you know them and love them (or hate them), they aren't mine. If you don't know 'em, they are.
DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please email: mydestinyfic@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at an XFic. If you don't like it, don't read it. I'd like to thank the ladies of the WXF for their support and encouragement. Special thanks to Albertina, Chase and Joanne for beta'ing this for me. Big sloppy baby kisses to Cyn and baby Nicky for their special brand of ego-boostin'. And, finally, if you like it, please let me know. I've already got a few sequels spinning in my brain. Eve and Logan will not be stopped.
SPECIAL NOTE: Look Ma, all that thesis research came in handy for something!
Charles Xavier sighed deeply as he looked out the window of his study. The slight pursing of his lips betrayed his inner turmoil. The vast expanse of the lush green lawns and tree lined lanes did nothing to ease his mind. He felt a great responsibility for each brick, stone and blade of grass on the grounds, not to mention the children housed within.
He smiled.
Children, he thought, shaking his head slightly. There were more than a few who would balk at that classification. They thought that they were all grown-up, just because they'd managed to save the world a few times. No, in his heart, they would always remain his children, even the temperamental ones.
Xavier turned his chair toward the door as a chorus of grumpy thoughts made their way down the hall. As a rule, he didn't make a practice of eavesdropping into other people's minds; however, some thoughts were telegraphed so loudly that he just couldn't miss them.
*Seven o'clock lecture, when did I sign up for the army?*
*Bed head! Eight more hours without a curling iron. Oh God, there's John. He can't see me like this!*
Xavier chuckled, a warm grin on his face. Yes, the children kept him young. Days like today made that very important. He could feel the pressure of time on his joints, in his muscles, everywhere. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He'd spent the last thirty-six hours traveling; the long trips were beginning to wear on him.
He shook himself. There were more pressing things to worry about than the state of his health. Besides, he thought, rolling over to the antique sideboard that held a silver tea service, his present exhaustion would be cured with a little sleep and a few strong cups of tea. He picked up the pot and poured the steaming, amber-colored liquid into two china cups and a heavy ceramic mug. To the cups he added a squeeze of lemon and a splash of cream. He picked up the sugar service and dropped twelve cubes of sugar into the mug. He looked at the vile concoction in disgust.
The door squeaked slightly as it swung open and Xavier made a mental note to have it lubricated. He pushed the thought quickly aside as he heard the door close and the scuff of booted feet walking across the floor toward him. Picking up the mug, he silently offered it to his new companion.
Logan grunted.
"This what I think it is?"
Xavier smiled. They went through this every morning.
"Yes, tea. It's full of sugar, just the way you like it."
Logan stared into the cup, looking as though he expected something to leap out of it.
"Don't worry," Xavier said, struggling to keep his amusement from showing, "they're all in class; you're perfectly safe."
Logan's eyes rolled up from the cup to focus on the other man's face. He eyelids narrowed slightly and his left eyebrow quirked.
"Just so you know," he said gruffly, "I still think this stuff tastes like grass clippings."
He tilted his head back and threw the tea down quickly. With any luck, the taste would be out of his mouth with his first cigar. As he leaned back against the leather winged-back chair, he noticed the extra cup.
"Expectin' someone? Or is this going to be one of those two-cup affairs?"
The Professor looked at the cup uncomfortably.
Logan's shoulders tensed at the other man's discomfort. Something wasn't right, not right at all. He'd felt off kilter ever since he'd walked into the room. It was different somehow. Quiet. Maybe a little too quiet. He slowed his body down and listened. No children. Where were they? Even in the middle of classes on a busy school day, you could still hear the children.
"Want to tell me what's goin' on?"
"Logan-" the Professor stopped abruptly, obviously unsure of what to say. "Logan, this is Eve," he finished weakly, gesturing toward the other side of the room.
Logan's head swung around abruptly. There was no way. But yes, there in the corner beside the bookshelf stood a woman. She is so still, he thought, unnaturally still. As he looked at her, nothing moved. If he didn't know better, he'd have been tempted to think she wasn't real. Thick black hair was twisted into a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were covered by the smoky lenses of her sunglasses; but, he could feel her gaze flick over his face, across his chest and down the muscled expanse of his body.
He smirked.
"Like the show?" he growled.
Nothing.
His eyes narrowed as he continued his perusal of her body, determined to get some sort of reaction out of her. It set his teeth on edge that she'd been there the whole time and he hadn't noticed. It wasn't right. It wasn't normal. It wasn't the kind of thing he allowed to happen, not anymore, not in the last eighteen years.
Her skin was pale; on most people it would have been referred to as a sickly white. However, it somehow suited her just fine. A delicate nose and two lush, pink lips rounded out her face. It wasn't the most beautiful face he'd ever seen, but he figured it probably worked well enough for her. Most men were pretty easy that way. A wool men's dress coat was thrown over her shoulders. If he didn't miss his guess, it was the Professor's. Interesting. Had he interrupted something? As he dropped his mug onto the table top, he realized that wasn't it.
He loped across the room, his walk feral, his lips slightly curled. As he approached, he realized that she still hadn't moved. It was creepy, the way she just stood there. It wasn't right. It certainly wasn't human. He sniffed the air. Nothing. Not a single fucking thing. The Professor set this up, he thought. He's testing me.
Logan moved forward quickly, using every inch of his muscular frame to his advantage. He stepped up to the woman, his face only inches away from hers. He felt her body tense as his fingers wrapped around her waist and pulled her toward him. She braced her palms against his shoulders as he inhaled a long, deep breath. Still nothing.
"Well," he said in disgust, "you don't smell."
She was still for a moment before he felt a tremor pass through her body. He was unsure of what to make of it until he saw her lips slowly part into a slight grin. She was laughing at him.
"Well," she said, "that's always a good thing to know."
He smirked.
"You don't know the half of it, sister."
"Logan," the Professor said, "why don't you take a seat. I- We'll explain everything as soon as the others arrive."
Logan looked at her for a moment, trying to peer beyond the smoky lenses and into her eyes. He still didn't like it, but he trusted the Professor. The man knew what he was doing. He wouldn't willingly let anyone endanger the children.
He nodded as his hands slipped free of her waist. Her fingers continued to rest on his shoulders for a moment before she slowly dropped her hands to her sides. He had the distinct impression that very little threw this woman for a loop. Well, they'd see how long that lasted.
Logan cocked his head, a slow, steady smile lifting the right corner of his mouth. He winked at her before turning around and walking back to the leather winged-back chair in front of the Professor's desk. Purposefully, he turned the chair around before dropping into the seat and kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips before she turned her attention away from him and back to the bookcase once more. She was motionless, steady as she had been when he'd first looked at her. It was the creepiest damn thing he'd ever seen.
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