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Perfectly Normal	By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > FemSlash - Female/Female Views: 6947 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Perfectly Normal
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-23
- 24-24
- 25-25
- 26-26
- 27-27
- 28-28
- 29-29
- 30-30
- 31-31
- 32-32
- 33-33
- 34-34
- 35-35
- 36-36
- 37-37
- 38-38
- 39-39
- 40-40
- 41-41
- 42-42
- 43-43
- 44-44
- 45-45
- 46-46
- 47-47
- 48-48
- 49-49
- 50-50
- 51-51
- 52-52
- 53-53
- 54-54
- 55-55
- 56-56
- 57-57
- 58-58
- 59-59
- 60-60
- 61-61
- 62-62
- 63-Mise en Scene: Coffee and Cream
- 31
- 32
- 33
Perfectly Normal Chapter Thirty Two

Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad
Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE (TM), Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch
and Uberbeta... *sends mega energy * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink,
Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for
archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: You're still the smutmuse ;)
Morgan: *not so subtle stalk with sparkles * Readers/Reviewers: AFFN
seems to be back, those of you who've been asking me. I just need to
get the story up there now lol. Thanks for reading and reviewing as
you can, y'all!

“You what?” Emma felt her
lips tightening into a thin line and she had to sternly remind
herself that such facial expressions led to ugly wrinkles not
befitting a Frost. “Stop talking, Sam. Just...stop.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through her nose. The
hospital parking garage was not the best place for this conversation,
she knew, but it could not be helped. The Professor wanted to be
alone and had all but ordered her to leave, not that Logan and Storm
had returned to the Institute with the last of the student visitors.
She did not want to go back to Bayville yet herself but it seemed she
would have to forgo her night in Manhattan and head back, if only to
get her things and hurry to Boston. “Tell me again what he
looked like.” She tuned out as Sam repeated his description;
she knew who it was already. She had seen him, first a few years ago
then now, plucked from Sam's mind as easily as if he had handed her a
photograph. “Listen to me,” she cut him off after a
moment when she realized her relaxation and focus techniques were not
working in the slightest. “Everyone is to sleep belowstairs
tonight, in the sublevels. Yes, where the Hellfire Club was
quartered. Do not use that tone with me Samuel Guthrie. Firestar
will be able to circumvent the...she's not there. Again.
Faaaaaaaantastic. No, I'll be there late tonight.” She hung up
without saying goodbye, snapping her phone closed and letting it fall
to her lap without a second thought. Taking a deep breath, she held
it until her lungs fairly burned with the need for air, her fingers
tight on the steering wheel as she counted to a hundred, then exhaled
slowly, letting oxygen replenish in her bloodstream. Boston was too
far for any of them to return to quickly, even Warren and Betsy.
“I am going to kill Firestar,” she said aloud, her voice
cold and clipped in the empty car. “A lot.”

Sam held the silent phone to his ear a
moment or two after Emma had cut him off, hanging up only when the
annoyingly brash sound of the disconnect signal made his ear ache.
“Fuck.”

“Firestar is on her way back...”
Theresa trailed off, frowning. “I think she is, anyway. She
doesn't say much to me at all.” In truth, the older mutant was
somewhat aloof and distant from all of them, not in a superiority
complex way but rather like she did not know quite how to act around
them or how to be herself even in the slightest. “She just
went to Salem for the day.” The cadre of younger students sat
along the stairs and behind the upstairs railing, staring at Theresa
and Sam silently, like observant little owls, waiting for some sort
of direction.

“Emma said we should go to the
sublevels for tonight. They're where the...uh...her social group
used to meet,” he extemporized, aware of the implications of
the word “hellfire” to those who did not know of Emma's
past. “But we need Firestar to get around something,
apparently.” He growled under his breath in mute frustration,
his entire body sore from the slam against the ground courtesy of
their brief intruder. “What if he's still out there though?”

“Then we deal with it,”
Theresa pointed out stoutly. “You stay here with them and I'll
check out the security settings on the sublevels. Ah!” She
held up her hand to silence Sam's coming refusal, adding, “Between
the two of us, who has more security evasion experience?”

“You do,” he sighed.
“But...”

“But nothing. Stuff your
Southern chivalry and bow to expertise,” she ordered with a
toss of her short curls. “Just keep an eye on them and wait
for me here.” She vaulted over the railing and disappeared
down the narrow service hall, once the domain of servants and now
just another space in the Boston schoolhouse for students to hide
from physical education sessions.

Sam let out a long, aggravated sigh
and dropped to sit on the last step on the staircase. One of the
newer students slid down a few steps to sit behind him, her soft
voice the product not so much of shyness but of a burgeoning crush on
Sam. “Don't a lot of horror movies start like this? The one
person going to the basement while everyone else waits for them
upstairs?”

Sam opened his mouth to naysay that
but paused. “Um...”

“Yeah,” another of the
younger mutants pointed out, “then they don't come back for a
while so everyone goes in one big glob to find them...”

“And,” a third voice piped
up, “they're DEAD!”

Sam was on his feet and heading down
the narrow hall before anyone else could add their two cents.
“Theresa!”

Professor Xavier worked his fingers
lazily, wishing he could get up and move around again. They had
allowed him to move earlier, walking him up and down the short hall
outside his room, but they said no more tonight, not while his blood
pressure was being wonky. That,
he thought dryly, is not a medical term, wonky. Beast would
not use that on a chart, I dare say...
He turned his face to the window and sighed for what felt like the
third time in as many minutes. “Vacation, here I come,”
he muttered under his breath. “I don't need a vacation.”
He drummed his fingers idly on the bedsheet, his mind racing. “I
need to get back to work, to make sure everything is to rights...”
He paused, carefully sending out tendrils of awareness through the
entire floor of the hospital. No one was being very observant, he
noted. Nurses were talking or watching the tiny tv in the lounge,
the doctor on call was dozing in his ersatz office... “And
it's not even eight,” the Professor realized with a wry twist
of his lips. “Everyone is just as bored as I am.”
Waiting for just a minute more, he sat up, focusing on his wheelchair
where it was pushed against the far wall of his private suite. “Damn
it... telekinesis never was my strong suit...”
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