Perfectly Normal

Perfectly Normal Chapter Twenty Four
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (TM), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta... OpenOffice is weird, lol. InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: *swat * Just because. Morgan: *snickers * look for it in a few chapters. Readers/Reviewers: This week I'll be taking a day off updates to catch up on some other writing thats not fanfic related so...yeah... lol. Thanks for reading/reviewing as you can!

“Ah, Lance...just who I was looking for.” It really was not but Mark would never tell. He stood, halfway between the teenager and the door to the kitchen, smiling pleasantly. “I hear tell you are going into town tonight...”
Lance sighed. He was not in the mood for pleasantries or any sort of small talk, really. He was pissed off. He wanted to throttle the film crew, the Friends of Humanity supporting bigots as Scott had renamed them. “Yeah, I'm going into town. Forgot to get books for biology,” he shrugged. The semester was well into being half over but he had only just gotten around to thinking about getting a text book. Storm had announced that he needed one if for no other reason than to use in front of the camera. It was one of his dirty little secrets that he was quite good at science and did well, even looking over Todd's shoulder to read his text book during lab days.
“Would you mind terribly giving me a ride into town then? I...um...we have an appointment to keep.” His smile had become slightly fixed, like someone who was not sure which way to go with a topic and would be damned if he made the wrong move first. It was getting on towards five, the day wrapping up for academics and the film crew making noises about spending the night to 'get an idea' about the full twenty four hour cycle of life at the Institute. He was seriously considering flipping the breakers and plunging the place into darkness, hobbling their attempts at filming, but he was fairly certain the emergency lights ran on a different system and his valiant efforts would only serve to cast the entire place in an odd, sodium light haze.
“We do?” Lance raised a brow, but before Mark could explain, he shrugged. “Whatever. I'm leaving after Amara gets outta the gym.” He hoped to convince her to go with him into town, maybe have a sort-of date, something away from the grounds of the Institute, away from everyone breathing down their necks and clandestine meetings in the middle of the night. He briefly entertained the idea of lying his ass off that coming Friday and telling Storm and Logan he had a relative who died in Chicago, then spiriting Amara away somewhere private so they could be alone for hours on end with no one banging on the door or telling them what they should do or need to do. They'd check though, he told himself, ending the briefly held fantasy. They're annoying, not stupid.
Mark nodded his thanks and moved aside to let Lance by. Letting out a breath he did not know he had been holding, he chided himself for the slight twinge of warm nerves low in his belly. “Good lord,” he muttered to himself, striding towards the library, his safe haven, “you're a grown man, not some adolescent boy out on his first date with a real female...”
“MARK!” Jubilee ran headlong into his chest, effectively clearing any further thoughts from his mind for a moment. Kitty was right behind her, not as panicked but looking decidedly unsettled as she drew to a halt behind her friend. “Mark! Come downstairs with us! I swear to god...”
“Which god?” he asked mildly, holding her at arm's length and frowning. “Between the three of us here alone, we have a veritable pantheon. Take a deep breath, Jubilee, and try to calm down.” He looked askance at Kitty, who shrugged slightly and laid a friendly but hesitant hand on Jubilee's back.
“She said that, earlier today, someone was waiting down at the bottom of the basement stairs to jab her. And when I went down with her just now...” She paused, her frown deepening. “Well, there was definitely something amiss.” She held up her arm, the thin seam of blood visible in the dim light of the hallway.
“It wasn't Jono,” Jubilee asserted firmly. “He wouldn't pull shit like that.”
Mark gave her a hearty pat on he arm and sighed theatrically. “It's likely one of the younger students not used to their fins or spikes or whatever they have. Or maybe one of the film crew thinking they're being clever. The alarms never went off and Logan has been over this place several times today alone. He would have sensed someone out of place.” He offered and encouraging smile to the girls' disbelieving expressions. “It's not like there's someone lurking down there thinking they're Jack the Ripper or even Spring Heeled Jack.1 I promise that I'll go check it out myself tonight, when I'm back from my...my meeting.” He smiled again and stepped aside, gesturing grandly for them to continue down the hall. “If I'm not mistaken, you have kitchen duty for dinner, Jubilee. And Kitty, you're running late for your hospital visit. Everyone is waiting in the garage.” The girls departed silently, not giving each other the questioning glances they would have months before. In fact, Mark noticed, not even walking close together as they would have before. Better they work that out on their own, he thought, resuming his trek to the library. It was barely three o'clock, plenty of time for him to finish his work for the day and get ready for the evening. Swinging the door to his inner sanctum open, Mark froze in his tracks. “Fucking hell...” He did not use that word often but the occasion seemed to call for it. Almost every book in the library was on the floor or table, pages from some scattered like sheets of written snow across the floor. The file cabinet bore several large dents, obviously from someone meeting resistence when they tried to open the locked doors. His large, Plexiglass fronted case of rare books, texts special to him in ways he could not explain to the others, seemed safe. There were some scratches, some mars in the wood, but the books were all there, all in one piece. His senses were immediately on high alert, his body tingling with hyperawareness, but he knew within seconds that he was alone. Not even a trace of scent remained to alert him to the vandal's identity. He picked his way carefully across the library to his desk, the only thing remaining atop it being the phone. He dialed cautiously, not looking at the numbers as he scanned the room with something akin to sorrow in his breast. “Logan? When will you be returning? Ah, good. Come immediately to the library when you get back.”

A/N Next chapter, smut. Loud, sweaty, scare the horses smut.
1http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_the_Ripper and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spring_Heeled_Jack