Bellwether

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I'm sending you some music. * G * InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: *poke * Morgan: *STALK * Readers/Reviewers: Thank you sooooooooooooooo much for reading and reviewing as you can! J

Mark awoke with a start, blinking muzzily at the ceiling. His mouth had that distinct, revolting feeling that one gets after drinking milk and going straight to bed without proper dental hygiene. His body felt sore and ill-used as he fumbled on the bedside table for his glasses, belatedly realizing that there was no bedside table. Bugger all, he thought, feeling distinctly harassed. _I'm on the sofa… in the rec room… ­­­_ Several things occurred to him at once: he was in a state of dishabille[1] , he was in desperate need of morning ablutions, and he was not alone.

"You look like shit," a familiar, sickeningly cheerful voice pronounced. Mark groaned as Jubilee's face hoved into view. "Fine greeting, chuckles. That's no way to welcome us home!"

Mark sighed. "Us?" he queried, tugging his robe closed over his chest. "Who, us?"

"Us," Kitty chimed in, moving to stand next to Jubilee, Jean appearing within Mark's line of vision to complete the mortification. Kitty's pert nose wrinkled in distaste. "Mark, no offense, but you look...whoa."



Jean raised a brow as her gaze swept Mark's prone form and she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You know, when most men have a midlife crisis, they just buy a powerful car and get a trashy girlfriend. I think reverting to toddlerhood is relatively rare."

Mark grunted and sat up, his robe clutched closed in one fist, his glasses held considerably more carefully in the other. His dirty dishes sat on the coffee table and he groaned inwardly. He had no idea what had possessed him to drink whole milk and eat a bowl of radioactively colored, oversugared cereal that allegedly tasted of mixed berries, but he had a strong idea that it was not a midlife crisis. "I am no where near," he stated firmly as he stood, "middle aged. I am in my youthful prime, thank you very much." He shook his glasses open and slid them into place, the formerly blurred faces of the three teenagers coming into sharper focus. "When did you lot get back?" he asked, wincing as he heard the oddly chopped cadence of his speech. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Are you recently returned?"

Snorting, Jubilee nodded. "We had…a rescheduling." She tossed her head proudly, the formerly spiked strands flopping loosely in her face as she attempted a nonchalant expression. "Storm told us to find you."



"And why would she do that?" the librarian queried, brows creeping heavenward. Had Storm seen him like that, he wondered, sprawled and drooling like some frat boy? His shoulder and back throbbed and a sickening memory of Emma throwing him into the wall sparked to life in his mind. What, he thought miserably, had he been doing? What had driven him to that?

"She said you needed help with some research," Kitty offered, dark circles rimming her lower eyelids. Her usually neat appearance was absent, a fuzzy facsimile remaining, finer hairs frizzing into a halo all around her head and a red, angry spot appearing on her chin. All three erstwhile travelers wore wrinkled clothes that bespoke a wearing long beyond their best moments. "She said we were supposed to help you while she tried to get hold of Logan…" she trailed off, stifling another yawn. "So, like, what kind of research is it anyway? I'm pretty good with most stuff and…"

Mark held up a hand to silence her. "Go take showers, change clothes, get food. I have some things to tend to. I'll come find you when I'm ready." He paused just long enough to gather his bowl and glass before heading into the kitchen. A handful of new students sat around the butcher block table, murmuring and giggling over their breakfast but he paid them scant attention as he took care of his dishes. _If I didn't know any better, _ he thought tensely, _I'd say this had all the hallmarks of a split personality. But any twit knows that a split personality isn't like in the movies. _[2] He went through the checklist mentally as he walked with what dignity he could muster to his private quarters in the rear of the house, locking the door behind him before heading straight for the wardrobe and sensible clothing. It had been several days since he had heard from Mystique and that was starting to prey more and more heavily on his mind, even taking precedence over his current situation while he dressed. _It's not like her to remain out of communications for so long… Magneto, either, for that matter… _ He paused in the middle of buttoning his shirt, his eyes moving to the thick binder on his dresser. The contents were so familiar to him that he could have spoken each and every detail of each and every picture and paper within it, down to the flaws in the negatives and pips in the typewritten letters. The sickening feeling that he had waited too long began to rear it's ugly head again, stronger than ever before, as he thought of the five images tucked carefully, almost lovingly, within the pages of the binder. He had fought the urge for over a month now, since seeing the similarities, to tell Mystique about it, to warn her somehow, but if he were to be honest with himself, there was not enough concrete evidence to make the warning worthwhile. It would just be hearsay at this point, old ghosts rising from mossy graves. But the fear was there, the knowledge burning like a lamp deep inside him. He knew, and he knew what they were capable of, given the opportunity that power and money could bring. Power and money like they had now… Mark took a deep breath and finished buttoning his shirt. He did not have time to mope and dwell like some lovesick teenager. He had duties to accomplish and research to complete. And, he thought bitterly, something wrong with this head. "Damn it…today is going to go on forever."

[1] Quaint and proper term for a state of undress as in wearing a bathrobe or something similar.

[2] http://www.healthatoz.com/healthatoz/Atoz/ency/multiple_personality_disorder.jsp