..Destroyed.. Chapter 6-Changing

X-Men Fanfic
Destroyed
Because things are the way they are, they will not stay the way they are.
                -Bertold Brecht
Chapter Six: Changing



The idiot 'Angel', Warren, kept me up for half of the night, his words making me feel guilty. The feeling that I ought to be punished balanced atop my shoulders, pounding on the back of my head; I was beginning to think that the miniature Antonia inside my mind hand begun work on the area. Finally, at about four in the morning, I gave up on returning to the realm of sleep and climbed out of the adopted bed with a resigned grunt. I was hoping that no one was awake as I slipped on my shoes and the torn jumper, and slipped from the room with a promise to myself that I would be silent.

I used Kurt's memories then. I needed to find a pen and paper, which I figured would be somewhere in the library. I stole through his thoughts, vying for the information I needed. I scoffed mentally when I finally found it, a place that seemed to be remembered only due to a range of incidents and resulting chores. I carefully opened the door, ducking inside an pressing it gently closed.

When I turned, my breath was temporarily stolen. The selection of books was vast, trumping even the magnitude of the Portland library. I stared around, wide eyed. Most of the tomes were non-fiction, covering everything from human physiology to basic instinctual psychological habits, and a range of fiction novels covered the far wall. I almost headed for those, only to tear myself away a moment later. I sighed silently, heading for one of the large, round tables near the non-fiction selection.

The one I reached first appeared to be heavy oak, heavy enough, at least, that I couldn't move it. I grimaced half-heartedly as I fingered a sheet of blank paper that had been left on the desk, then stretched across the desk. I was not prepared for the shock of painful information that I received from the golden pen upon contact, but I refused to let it go. I held it gingerly, however, both reluctant to let it fall and unwilling to hold on. I sighed and scribbled a note on a slip of paper:
Rahne –
      I apologise for my words at dinner yesterday. I was impolite. You must understand, it was nothing personal; I simply prefer to avoid contact. Also, here's your pen. I know that you treasure it.
    Sincerely, Hue. That is, the freak from beside you last night.

I shook my head and made my way from the kitchen, despite not wanting to leave the library. You can't always have what you want, half of me whispered. The rest of me laughed. You can't ever have what you want. I shook my head as I set the note on the cold granite counter.

"What're you doing in here?" a bleary southern voice groaned. I turned abruptly, shielding the note from view with my body. The figure yawned widely, exposing white teeth. I barely avoided visibly showing disdain for the arrival.

"None of your business, Rogue," I scoffed. "It'd do you well to not sneak up on me, by the way."

"Just 'cause you can't hear me past your wings, you demon."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm leaving. Morning, for what it's worth."

"Right," she responded, grimacing at me. "Morning."

I left her in the kitchen, surprised that I suppressed the urge to slap her confused expression from her face. I didn't have the patience to get to know the insufferable southern runaway, and I didn't want it. As far as I was concerned, she was nothing more than a pawn to be played with. I avoided a small group of teen mutants as I headed for the library once again, knowing it would be empty. Summer vacation was on, after all, and what use would a bunch of teenagers, even mutant ones, have for thousands of books? Certainly not the same as I: to study them.

I ran my hand along the vaguely warm wood of one of the shelves, oak to match the tables, and smiled softly. I didn't even know what section I was in, but I still loved the feel of the place. Peaceful, quiet and desolate: just the place for me, I thought with a soft laugh. I reached for a book that caught my eye, something about gymnastics entitled Gymnastics: Skills – Techniques – Training (Crowood Sports Guides), and gently fingered the spine. The information flowed through my fingers and into my mind and body, granting me awareness and understanding of the actions described within the pages. I didn't pull it from the shelf, merely taking the information.

Chi Running: A Revolutionary Approach to Effortless, Injury Free Running introduced me to a concept of running which covered avoidance of injuries that defeated even the most professional sports person. Jiu-Jitsu University, Bruce Lee's Fighting Method: The Complete Edition, Advanced Brazilian Jiujitsu Techniques, The SAS Self-Defence Handbook, and The Idiot's Guide to Taekwan-Do never made it from the shelf, instead giving me everything I could ever get from each of those books. I touched dozens of others, but none of them gave me anything particularly memorable. Only four made it from the shelf: The Cornered Cat: A Woman's Guide To Concealed Carry covered firearms such as pistols and how to care for them, Mind Gym: An Athlete's Guide to Inner Excellence seemed to go over mental preparation for such exertion, and Vital Point Strikes: The Art and Science of Striking Vital Targets for Self-defence and Combat Sports and The Little Black Book of Violence: What Every Young Man Needs to Know About Fighting went over more specific methods of self defence. I took them from the safety of the library and ventured past the now packed kitchen, heading outdoors for the comfortable shade found beneath a vast old tree.

In psychology, there is something we call the self-consistency theory. It means we act consistent to our self-concept - I trailed off, my visibility cut as a shadow was cast over me. I half-grimaced to myself, then looked up at the new arrival. Long, loose brown hair and brown eyes gazed down at me. Surprisingly, a half smile was on her lips. "Hello, Fallen."

"Hi, Hue," she continued to smile. I almost returned the gesture, only to realise that I ought to be nervous.

"What are you after?" I asked her.

"Mm, nothing. I just wondered if you could, how you say, explain something to me."

I shrugged. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner it is done. "Explain what?"

"Well, two things, actually. And then I have a question. Firstly, why did you overreact last night, when Rahne offered you her hand? You did not fight Kurt or myself when we were sent to pick you up."

"That was different. I was barely conscious, then. Even with my power, I'd never be able to get anything solid from you. From Rahne, just then, at the table, I was completely alert. There's nothing I could've done except for grinned and bore it out – only I hate faking, so I chose to tell her to bugger off."

"You did not tell her to do that, though. You only forbade her contact with you."

"Fat lot of good it did me," I grumbled weakly.

She blinked, but did not ask my reasoning for such a comment. "Okay, I think I understand now. My second wonder, what is your actual power?"

I sighed. "I absorb information upon contact. It is most similar, out of all the mutants I know of, to Rogue's ability, where she takes powers and memories. The difference is, I don't remove them, I just make a copy of the information, and can also get things from books and computers and objects that've been in contact with people for a long time. For example, Rahne's pen, she left it in the library. I borrowed it to write a note and ended up in pain while I took the information from it, because, and this is just a theory, it's physically painful to take information from mutants and their possessions, but only for me. The source does not feel anything."

"That is vaguely…" she shook her head. "Unfair, I suppose, is the right word."

"Yeah," I agreed. More than anything, I was surprised that she agreed with me. "That all?"

"Yes, I believe so."

"Great. That leads us to your question."

"Oh, that. Well, I was asked by the Professor to find you in the garden, and to ask you this: will you be participating in training with Logan – that is, Wolverine?"

"Logan?" I rapidly filtered through the facts in my skull, but I couldn't find a mention of the name, except for a sense of dread in Kurt's mind. "Who's that?"

"Logan, he is not so sure that is his actual name, is also called by Wolverine. He has metal in his bones and is…how you say, difficult, I suppose. The training with him is more a challenge than it is with, for example, Beast – Doctor McCoy."

I nodded slightly, my morbid curiosity getting the better of me. I picked up the books from where they were, placed on the ground beside me, and arranged them in a neat stack before getting to my feet. "And it'll be worse treatment from Logan if I refuse to start until later, am I right?"

"Most definitely."

"I'm in," I smiled slightly. She returned the expression with a much higher sense of confidence.

"Just follow me."