Fractals

Fractals Chapter Five (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are oodles of wonderfulness for archiving/hosting! :) ProPhile: Yay! You’re back! Morgan: It’s late, but it’s coming… Readers/Reviewers: THANK YOU! *GLOMP *



Rogue raised a brow and tried not to laugh. “You what?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to find Nova Roma.” Amara nodded mostly to herself as they stood, waiting for a clear path to the salad. “It’s going to be easy enough, once I have the right map.”
“Look, Marco Polo, if it hasn’t been discovered by us mere mortals before now, your kingdom is safe from prying eyes for good.” Rogue set her plate down on the long, low table holding the food for the greatly increased number of residents in the mansion and beganopinoping salad onto her plate.
Amara snorted haughtily and speared an innocent tomato from the relish tray. “You have no scope.”1 She shuffled down the table next to Rogue, making room for Jubilee and Paige before sniffing daintily at something that might have been classified as meatloaf. “It’simpsimple matter of seeing what your blind science types have ignored.”
Rogue sighed. There was not arguing with Amara when she had her mind set on something. “Okay, say you do find this miracle map with Nova Roma on it. Then what? You go tell everyone where your home is and then they’re overrun with sociologists who want to study it?”
The Nova Roman looked taken aback for a moment before answering. “Well,” she said, grabbing a glass and heading for the tea, “I intend on returning. It is my home after all.”
Rogue shot Lance an aggravated glance over the top of Amara’s head. He simply shrugged and returned to plotting out the finer points of a video game with Bobby and St John. Waiting for Amara to finish getting her drink, Rogue sighed and stated, “You ever think that’s a bad idea? You were kind of kicked off and all…” She did not know the details of Amara’s exile, at least no more than what Amara had been willing to tell, but she had the impression that the expulsion was not a pleasant or voluntary one.
The Nova Roman fell silent until they reached a clear spot at the end of the long dining table. “Then my return will mean that much more. It is what I was meant for. I was cultivated to rule.”
“Plants are cultivated,” Theresa said, sitting down on Amara’s right. “People aren’t.” She dug her fork into the mystery meat. “Is this actually meat?”
“It’s soy,” Rogue sighed. “Kurt made it for Kitty but Kitty isn’t joining us for dinner. And people are cultivated like hot house flowers in places like Nova Roma, it seems.”
Amara’s low growl made them all twitch slightly. “Do not speak of things which you do not understand.” She speared a hapless piece of onion and brandished it as she spoke. “The debacle with the Sentinels shows me that I am not meant for this life. I was far more right than I realized. I will return to Nova Roma and take my rightful place as ruler.”
Jubilee took up a spot on Rogue’s left. “What about Lance then? Gonna tell him find another fuck buddy?” She sniffed the loaf of mystery. “Yeah, that’s soy.”
Amara bit into her forkful of vegetables savagely, narrowing her eyes. “Lance will come with me. He is my…”
“Concubine?” Theresa offered innocently, her blue eyes wide with feigned innocence.
“Slave?” Jubilee added helpfully.
“Ignorant. Every one of you, ignorant.” Amara leaned forward, speaking directly to Rogue. “I thought you would understand, out of all of them, but you do not. I am the only one who can see…” She trailed off, her face becoming noticeably pale. “Excuse me,” she murmured, shoving away from the table and dashing for the dining hall door. Lance sat up straight and looked askance at Rogue, who shrugged, and he was on his feet and after her a second later.
“What was that about?” Jubilee whispered exaggeratedly. “Nova Roman PMS?”
“No idea,” Rogue sighed. “I think she’s gearing up for a major freak out though.”

Amara made it out into the hall before she started crying. She felt like she was flooding her own mind, like she had been gone and returned ono fio find it too small for all of her thoughts. She gasped for air, trying to choke back the hated, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she wrenched the door to the phone room open and slammed it shut behind her, not bothering to turn on the light, reveling in the close space. She forced herself to breathe more steadily, dashing tears from wild, wide eyes. She was shaking, she realized in the half-light of the small room. She sat up straight, pressing her back against the wooden panels of the wall and setting her feet flat on the floor. She smoothed her hands over her jeans and pushed her hair from her eyes, sniffling. She stared straight ahead at the faint outline of the door and held her breath as Lance’s footsteps pelted past. She could recognize his bo tre tread easily and sighed with relief as he headed up the stairs overhead. Good, she thought, he was going to her room to find her. sto stood shakily and inhaled slowly, measuring her breath. On the count of ten, she exhaled and tried to push the bad feelings away, like Professor Xavier had showed her to do in their private meetings. “It doesn’t work,” she murmured aloud. Her head felt stuffed. It was like she was a stranger there, not recognizing the feelings and need to do something, the sudden hyperactive push bubbling just beneath the surface. She swallowed hard and jerked her chin. “I am a Princess of Nova Roma. I am THE Princess of Nova Roma. I do not freak out.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hall to find Lance waiting for her. “I thought you went upstairs,” she said smoothly, walking back towards the dining hall.
“Why would you think that?” he asked, a brow arching as he followed her. He did not like her color—she looked much too pale to be healthy.
“I heard you.” She shrugged and paused, just outside the door to the dining hall. “Why did you come looking for me?”
“I was worried,” he admitted towering over her and frowning. “You’re not yourself lately.”
“Of course I am,” she chided. “If I wasn’t myself, who else would I be?”

Next, Kitty, Kurt, Jamie again, Jean and Scott.


1 Borrowed from L.M. Montogomery’s Anne of Green Gables series. Anne Shirley was always telling her friend she had “no scope”.