Blueshift

Blueshift Chapter Thirty Two (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply


A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… At least it’s the weekend… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: That wasn’t so bad, was it? Morgan: Good luck! Readers/Reviewers: Thank you for reading/reviewing as you can and HHNF is going to wrap up tomorrow night, spirits willing…

Mark ignored the small crowd of teenagers in the library, heading straight for the furthest shelf from the door. “Noodles, nails… ah!” He pulled a medium-sized book from a shelf about chest-height and carried it to his desk, already rifling through the pages, humming under his breath.
“What’re you doing?” St John glanced up from his forgotten math homework and raised a brow at Mark. “And what on earth are you humming? Is that… Bon Jovi?”
Mark paused and looked up. “Well, yes, yes it is. And none of your business. Do your homework.” He flipped rapidly to the middle of the book and paused. “No, not him…”
St John broke away from the younger students, relegated there since Bobby had wandered off to see what Jamie was up to, and moved to join Mark at the desk. “Is that a book on World War Two? Cool… I’ve always wanted to learn more about the European theatre…we did Asia last year in world history.”
The librarian paused again, glancing up at St John. With a sigh of resignation, he pushed his glasses back up his nose from where they had slipped down in his haste and said, “You merely touched on the Pacific theatre in your world history class. No secondary level history course can even begin to cover the complexities and intrigue that was the Pacific theatre of World War Two.”
St John nodded. “Yeah… hey, that guy looks like Magneto, but heavier…” He pushed his finger against a large black and white image on the page Mark had settled on. With a note of shock in his voice, St John asked, “IS that Magneto?”
Mark slammed the book closed before St John could peer any closer. “You have old men on the brain. That might be an issue for your therapist. Go finish your math work and later on, if you’re interested, I’ll begin to explain the Pacific side of World War Two.” He was rewarded with a slightly glazed expression and St John’s muttered thanks before he wandered back to the table with the younger students. After a moment of making sure the older student was not going to change his mind and return to pester him, Mark resumed flipping through the book. _No, no, no, no, no, no, yes! _1 “Ha!” he crowed out loud, looking up sheepishly as the syllable bounced off the high walls. “As you were,” he airily ordered the students, marking the page in the book and striding from the library.

“He’s not here,” Kitty sighed wearily from the floor.
Mark paused and looked down at her, raising both brows. “How do you know which ‘he’ I’m looking for? I might be looking for your hirsute companion, for Banshee or even for myself… or horror upon horrors, a woman! Not a he at all!” He toed her outstretched leg with his boot. “Excuse me, please.”
Kitty stood slowly, her knees creaking from being on the cold floor for over an hour. “You’re looking for the Professor. He’s not here yet. He’ll be here soon, though.” She folded her arms across her stomach, choosing to ignore the snarkiness. “Did you see a UFO, too?” she asked, feeling beaten down by the oddity of the day.
“Uh… no…” He blinked rapidly in confusion. “Are those damned Canadians sneaking across the border again?”
She snorted inelegantly. “Not that kind of alien…” Glancing at the study door behind her, she edged closer. “You don’t know about the whole Jamie thing then?” She felt a flutter of hope. _Maybe he’s got some sense to him. Maybe everyone else has been exposed to weird for too long and he’ll be able to talk them down from it. _
“I know he found a comet or some space trash with your telescope…” Mark’s head jerked back almost imperceptibly. “Oh, bloody Hell… Are you implying that the whole lot of them think he’s found some UFO?”
Kitty let out a whoosh of breath and nodded. “I know, insane, right? They’re all in there, having a staring contest with some people who just wandered in and…”
“Whoa,” Mark shifted the weight of the book under one arm and held out a hand as if to physically stop her forward progress. “What people?”
Kitty shrugged, her head throbbing. “Tall, pale, feathery… spooky.” She laughed mirthlessly, a brief and rough sound, before adding, “For a second, I really thought they might be aliens but, you know, I started thinking, right? If Kurt can have fur, Warren can have those huge wings, other mutants have gills… why can’t there be mutants that are all…art deco, you know?” She shrugged, the movement making her peach colored sweater bunch under her crossed arms. “I really don’t think I can handle more weird,” she sighed, trailing into a ramble. “I mean, I’m home for break, right? All I want to do is sleep late, go shopping, snuggle with Kurt and hang out with my friends. I don’t want to save the world.”
Mark nodded sympathetically, only half listening. “Yeah, that can be a drag, that whole hero thing… Look, Professor Xavier isn’t here?”
Kitty sighed and shook her head. “No, not yet. I told them I needed some water… I should go back in now…” She looked hopeful all of a sudden. “You’re sane and you’ve got that whole sensible British accent thing going… come in with me and see if you can talk some sense into them!”
He coughed, choking on his own words, startled. “I’m not sure how sensible the accent is… it’s Hell to get through customs and doesn’t pack well…” Kitty was already pulling him by his wrist through the door, making him feel slightly disoriented as he passed bodily through the wood. “Oh, yuck. Let’s not do that again, okay?” The room was silent, Kitty giving him a beseeching look. Mark let his eyes drift from her face to Storm’s, then Emma and Jean’s, then he froze. “Oh, Hell.”


1 Apologies to Madeline Kahn in Blazing Saddles. ;)