by paxnirvana
Rating: NC-17 Pairing: Shadowcat/Shatterstar, Rictor Archive: Ask first.Author's Note: Rating for a little violence 'n swearing 'n grown up stuff, as well as a liberal dose of sex. And I am willfully ignoring the whole Shatterstar-as-Benjamin-Russell origin mess here. (If anyone even knows about it. Old X-Force fans?... Bueller?... Bueller? Nah.) He's from Mojoworld only. Enuf awready! *wicked smile* [Saw a picture of Shatterstar in a black leather vest that just _screamed_ for a different story. . . ] 7/9/01
Disclaimer: The main characters and most of the references in this story belong to Marvel Comics. The others don't. But all three are in CHARACTER LIMBO right now anyway, so they probably won't mind the action here.
* * * * *
I've never felt this way
About anyone or anything
Tell me...What do I have to do
To make you want me?
But if I can't make you want me
What do I have to do?
To forget about you. . .- Stabbing Westward
When Kitty Pryde (No, damn it, Julia Swenson. She'd trip over that out loud one of these days.) spotted the man with long red hair racing wildly across the campus toward her, her first thought was that they'd found her. Despite all her pleas, all her precautions. The X was reaching out to take her back into the fold. It hurt. Hurt badly that they weren't respecting her wishes. Her second thought was just how had they found her? She looked at the bracelets she wore around each wrist, discreetly checking that the power indicators were still in the green - she'd designed and built them herself with inspiration from both Cerebro and Forge's work. They generated a tracking suppression field that completely suppressed both the genetic and psionic detection of her X-factor gene. Not to mention being fashionable. To both mechanical and psionic scans she appeared as simply human - not as a mutant at all. Just another college student eking out an existence between papers and labs and scholarship applications.
Another look made her realize he wasn't wearing an actual uniform - just blue jeans, a black leather vest over a plain white tee shirt, and heavy boots. Oh, and the two long, glittering swords pulled free of the sheaths strapped to his vest. Nary an X in sight.
Shatterstar. The Mojoworlder. And a member of Cable's X-Force. Or, she remembered suddenly, he had been at one time until he left the team and took off with his best friend, Julio Richter, for personal reasons.
The lower portion of the campus below the Quad (as the brick-covered central square of the University of Washington campus was referred to), hosted the more technical aspects of the University's curriculum - including the new experimental fusion reactor. She'd come out of the Physics lab with the flood of students racing around between class periods just in time to witness him leap spectacularly over the high hedge surrounding a building three away from hers and sprint down the cobbled walkway toward her, nimbly dodging knots of people as he ran, bared swords glittering in the afternoon sun. Students and faculty dived out of his way, some crying out in fear, most simply too shocked to do more than stare after his fleeing form. He was elegant grace and savage beauty in motion, she had to admit with a small sigh. And the long flowing hair and rusty starburst tattoo over one eye didn't hurt either. All the really cute guys were in the spandex set, she thought in disgust.
Then she saw the men in power-armor chasing him.
At least half a dozen of them. Wearing yet another variant of the old SHIELD Mandroid armor, if she wasn't mistaken. Someone was liable to get hurt. And it probably wouldn't be the sprinting Mojoworlder. Swearing under her breath, she tightened down the straps on her backpack, then turned off both bracelets. The side-effect of the tracking suppression field was nullification of her mutant power to phase - to be invisible she had to give it up. It had taken her months, and several painful bruises, to stifle the urge to simply phase through walls when she was in a hurry. But since the whole idea had been to try to be 'normal' again, it had seemed a small price to pay.
Until now.
They would catch him, she saw. Unlike Shatterstar, the Mandroids seemed oblivious to the civilians around, plowing blindly through hedges and planter boxes, spraying energy beams around indiscriminately in their attempt to capture or kill him.
Phasing had been hard enough to give up - but she couldn't quite convince herself to let her ninja training slip. The 'real' world could be just as dangerous for a young woman alone regardless of whether she was a mutant or not. She dropped to a crouch behind the steps to the Physics building, timing her moves carefully.
Then Shatterstar flipped agilely into the air, pointing his blades behind him and letting off some kind of bio-energy blast along the blades at two of the airborne units. She wasn't familiar with his particular mutant power, but it seemed effective. The two Mandroids sparked and flashed, then fell toward the ground, disabled. Creating a wonderful and timely distraction for the four units still on his tail. As he finished his leap, she launched herself at him, catching him around the waist and using his momentum to roll them both toward the building across the path, phasing them through the wall and into the basement. Instantly out of sight.
They dropped through the wall, returning to solidity as they emerged. Luckily the hallway was empty.
"It's Shadowcat, Shatterstar!" she hissed at him, having felt his body tense for attack during the fall and wanting to forestall a confrontation. "From the X-Men!"
He rolled to a fighting crouch, one sword pointing at her throat, the other held in guard position. His strange silver-gray eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Shadowcat? What are you doing here?"
"Never mind that, give me your arm!" she said, hurriedly tugging off one suppression bracelet. He didn't relax his guard position so she simply phased through his sword and slapped the bracelet around his wrist, activating it. He staggered as his mutant power was disabled, which let her pull back safely and activate her own bracelet. One bracelet alone wasn't as completely effective as two, but the two in tandem had been designed to keep out telepathic scans. One each would be more than sufficient to hide them from simple tracking equipment.
He clawed at the bracelet on his arm, still disoriented by the effect. Ruefully she remembered the two weeks of dizziness and nausea she'd endured until her body had adjusted to the field. She almost felt sorry for him. He was looking rather green - and with his fair complexion, that was saying a lot.
"Leave it!" she hissed urgently. "It blocks tracking equipment! Do you want them to find us?"
He shook his head, glaring at her, but left the bracelet alone. She leaned against the outside wall, listening intently. The Mandroids were making noise, tromping around on the concrete and stone outside hard enough to be heard even down here, but they were no longer firing their energy weapons. That she could hear. With their target gone, they'd have to leave or attract excessive attention from official sources. They'd more than likely leave the regular humans alone. But she had to get Shatterstar out of here. She looked around the hall anxiously. She'd been in this building before, but didn't remember exactly where they were.
"Put the swords away," she ordered him with a sharp look. "We've got to slip out the other side before they think to start searching individual buildings." Hands shaking slightly, he still managed to sheathe both swords with a grace that left her discreetly envious. She knew how easy that maneuver wasn't - even if you weren't dizzy. The swords were only slightly obvious now, the hilts sticking up over his shoulders, but it was better than glaringly obvious which is what they'd be held in his hands. She was mildly surprised he'd listened to her advice - her information on him had indicated he tended toward direct confrontation rather than discretion. Something had happened to change his ways. He gestured her urgently on. So she led them both to the far side of the building, happy to discover this was one of the buildings with an underground corridor leading to various other buildings on the Quad that students, faculty and employees could use when the weather in Seattle turned inclement. Which was most of time. So when a day was as nice and warm as this one had been came around, it was usually empty. She prayed it was right now.
And it was. He followed her silently, trusting her simply for her mention of the X-Men. She'd forgotten how powerful that name was in the mutant underground.
"You don't happen to have an image inducer, do you?" she said to him as they hurried along. He shook his head. She sighed as they reached the entrance to the main underground parking garage, then shrugged philosophically.
"Too much to ask," she said looking around for obvious observers. She didn't see any power-armor lurking among the practical Volvos and battered Fords in the parking garage, but that didn't mean they weren't watching for them. "Why are they after you?"
"I am searching for Rictor," he said grimly. "He disappeared a few weeks ago outside his home in Mexico. The trail has led me here."
"Here, huh?" she said with a frustrated sigh. "Must be the research hospital. Should have known they'd be into studying mutant genetics along with cancer and AIDS."
"I do not know if it was for that purpose," he said cautiously, his silver gaze darting around the dimly lit parking garage as well, wary of ambush. She led him toward the main car entrance, slipping into a stairwell for a brief moment when a van drove up to the main gate. If they didn't have to be seen, all the better. He followed her inside with surprising silence and grace for a man of his size. But then, practically every move he made was deliberate and controlled. He was a warrior trained - she'd known enough of them to spot his type a mile away. He stood close beside her in the flickering fluorescent light of the stairwell, watching through the cracked steel-mesh reinforced glass of the door. The stairwell smelled like stale alcohol and old urine. A bum haven. "We are working to extract Julio's family from their old trade of smuggling and gun-running. One of their business partners seems to have taken exception to our activities."
"Oh, hell," she said, eyeing him darkly. It would figure. "Don't tell me - Russians."
"How did you know that?" he said, looking down at her suspiciously. And why were the guy hero-types always so damn tall? Except for Logan, of course.
"Seattle's crawling with Russians," she said with a disgusted snort. "There's always half a dozen fish processors or trawlers in dock at any time. Not to mention freighters. Tons of contraband passes through here. And the City of Seattle has all the sophistication of a farming town when it comes to major crime security. Making a real name for themselves as a pushover in underworld circles, this city is. "
"Then you can help me," he said, giving her an intense look.
"Nope," she said firmly, looking out to see if there were any more vehicles approaching. "I saved your butt back there because I didn't want my school and my degree shot all to hell. But I'm retired. Out of it. Done with the spandex. Once we get clear, you and I are quits, Mojo-boy."
He fell silent at that, eyeing her thoughtfully, but followed her lead easily enough when she gestured him out into the parking lot. They ambled out casually, walking slowly enough not to attract undue attention, but fast enough to cover some ground. She silently blessed the unreliable elevator in her old apartment building for forcing her to walk the seven flights every day. Kept her stamina up. Shatterstar could walk. Must be those long, lean legs. She shook her head. Pay attention, girl, she told herself sternly. You're on the job here. Even if he is really something special to look at.
They went directly to the Ave - University Way - a funky, trendy, coffee-shop infested street a block away from the campus proper that played gleeful host to anyone even remotely connected to the University. His long red hair and tattooed eye didn't even get a second look there. Well, maybe from the women. And a few guys. As usual, there were plenty of others dressed far more outrageously loitering around on the street, in shop doorways and at the bus stops. She pulled him onto the first bus that arrived, leading him to the back and settling down to keep a wary eye on their back-trail. He settled in the seat beside her, face set in unreadable, faintly hostile lines. A public face, she recognized. To discourage conversation with their fellow passengers. It worked on her too.
After twenty silent, uneventful minutes, she let out a sigh. No sign of pursuit.
"Looks like we lost them," she said quietly to him. He looked down at her.
"I am grateful for your assistance," he said, touching the bracelet on his wrist. Then his silver gaze caught her brown one. "Why did you leave the X-Men?"
"Long story," she said with a sigh, hiding the reflexive pain that name still brought her, aware of the poorly-hidden curiosity in his gaze. Then she looked out the window of the bus as it slowed, recognizing a local mall. A great place to get lost among the masses, if need be. She nudged his shoulder, indicating they were getting off. He slid over, letting her precede him to the door. She swiped her own bus pass through the reader slot, then hastily dug in her pockets for change to pay his fare. The bus driver, an older, grandmotherly woman with gray hair, rolled her eyes at her as she dropped coins into the fare box for him.
"Dump him and get one with a job, honey," was the woman's pithy advice as she led Shatterstar off the bus. "Musicians are bums."
"But he's just so cute," Kitty flashed back, smiling impishly. The woman's gaze ran over Shatterstar appraisingly, lingering on the tight seat of his jeans, the hard spread of his shoulders, the long, long hair. "That he is, honey, but go for stability, that's my advice."
"Pardon me?" Shatterstar said, raising a ginger eyebrow in surprise. Kitty tugged on his arm, smiling at him with overly bright adoration. "Ignore her, sweetie, let's go shopping." The bus driver just shook her head sadly as the door closed and the bus drove away.
Shatterstar stared down at the arm she'd linked through his in gentle confusion. "Misdirection. I understand," he said with solemn import. She rolled her eyes at him.
"How long have you been on Earth?" she asked him, only half serious, all but dragging him along as she headed for a nearby restaurant. It was surprisingly easy to do. He didn't seem to have the weight indicated by his musculature. Then she remembered Longshot and his hollow bones. Shatterstar must have those as well. Despite the fact that he had the right - well, the human - number of fingers on each hand.
"Nearly three years now," he said proudly.
"Get out much?"
"Well, no," he said, a frown knitting his brow. "We have been busy."
"Didn't think so," she said wryly, pushing open the restaurant door. It was a Cindy's or a Shari's or something forgettable like that. A place that's main claim to fame was proximity to the mall and 24-hour breakfast service. However, in the middle of the afternoon it was practically empty. They took a seat in the back. The weary-looking waitress poured them ice water, took their drink orders [large Coke for her and a tall glass of milk for him], tossed two menus on the table then wandered off, probably never to be seen again, Kitty mused. But that was okay. They needed to talk.
"Shatterstar," she began, fiddling with the cheap, bent fork in front of her. "I need to know where you stand regarding the X-Teams right now."
He watched her carefully, an arm lying casually across the back of the booth, his long hair lying in a red rope over his shoulder, the maroon starburst tattoo over his eye looking like a patch. He looked more at ease than she'd expected him to, here in this dingy restaurant. Almost like an ultra hip musician, as the bus driver had implied, rather than an erstwhile superhero.
"Julio and I left X-Force nearly a year ago," he said softly, his silver eyes hidden under ginger lashes. "They have changed. . . considerably."
"You could say that. After they... disappeared, some show-biz types took the name and formed their own group. Trying to make a media thing out of them," she said, leaning back in the booth herself.
"I have seen the reports on television," he said, eyes flashing dangerously. Apparently the reports had not pleased him, a former member of the team who's name they'd so blithely taken.
"Yeah," she said in tacit agreement. The reports bothered her too. The new X-Force's methods left much to be desired. And left behind a higher body-count than even the remainders of Cable's team had under Wisdom's dubious direction. She wasn't going to think about Pete Wisdom, however. "But I meant the X-Men themselves. Do you keep in contact with them?"
"I have no reason to," he said, tensing slightly. His affront bothered her. What reason did he have to be wary of the X-Men? Well, she had her reasons, but why him too?
"Well, that's what I wanted to know," she said, curious, but reluctant to pry. "You see, I left them. Erased my files, changed my name, built these so they couldn't find me." There she held up her wrist, shaking the thin bracelet for emphasis. "Too much had gone wrong. I just wanted to live a normal life again."
"I do not pretend to understand this overwhelming need for a 'normal life'," he said, shaking his head once. "But I do understand that sometimes you must face things on your own. Just as Julio and I have done. You may trust that I will not tell anyone from Xavier's that I have encountered you, Shadowcat, should fate cross my path with theirs as well." He gave her a sparkling smile, all teeth and gleaming silver eyes.
"Thanks, 'Star," she said, letting an answering smile touch her lips. He really was quite cute. Then curiosity overcame her. "Where were you when the Mandroids started chasing you?"
"I was in the library," he said quietly.
"The library? Which library?" she repeated, surprised and puzzled. But they both fell silent as the waitress miraculously re-appeared, carrying their drinks. The woman took their hurried orders, then left. Shatterstar downed his milk in several deep swallows before she'd even taken the paper off her straw.
"Hungry?" she asked him, eyeing the empty glass thoughtfully. He shrugged with faint embarrassment, reluctant to admit need.
"I have been on Julio's trail for two weeks," he said as if that explained everything.
"So, you don't eat when you're working?" she said sarcastically.
"Julio had the money," he shrugged. She just stared at the big Mojoworlder in surprise.
"You do know how money works, don't you?" she breathed, alarmed. He couldn't be that naïve still, could he?
"Yes, I learned from TV," he said, silver eyes gleaming with amusement. "But Julio had most of it when he disappeared, and I did not wish to break too many laws while searching for him."
She sighed heavily, shooting him a disgusted glance.
"You aren't making this easy for me," she huffed out. "I wanted to leave all this behind."
"I am sorry. I do not wish to be a burden to you, Shadowcat," he said somberly.
"Call me Julia," she said, leaning back as she spotted the waitress again. Shatterstar eyed the approaching plates of food with enthusiasm.
"But I thought your name was. . . "
"I changed it, remember?"
"Ah," he said, then attacked his food. She watched in amazement as he efficiently and neatly devoured everything in front of him. She found herself passing over parts of her own meal, since he was so obviously starved. She had been hungry herself a time or two before. He smiled at her gratefully, the expression lighting up his face with a strangely innocent charm. He'd been a gladiator in one of the bloodiest games in existence - Mojo's Arenas - but he looked like a little boy at Christmas when she dumped her extra fries on his plate. She winced as he proceeded to pour enough ketchup over them to nearly make soup. But he scooped it all up neatly, wiping his fingers carefully on a napkin when he was done. Had Domino pounded table manners into him, or had it been Rictor? Or had he always been that way?
"Get enough?" she asked ruefully.
"Yes. Thank you, Sha. . . Julia," he said. She stared at him thoughtfully for a long time, until he began to shift nervously in his seat.
"Have I offended you?" he finally asked.
"No," she grunted. Then she sighed deeply, dropping her chin into her hand. "I'm just going to have to take you home with me. Damn it. Can't have you running around drawing attention."
He looked affronted. "I can use stealth. I have been trained in those tactics."
She rolled her eyes at him, waving a hand at the hilts poking up behind his shoulders, his long red hair and the dark red sunburst tattoo over his left eye.
"Right - on Mojoworld, maybe. But here you stick out like a sore thumb. This isn't New York either, where they don't notice anything unless it spits in their face. They'd spot you in a second around here. Besides, I want to hear more about those Mandroids hanging around my University."
"All right," he agreed quietly. "Thank you, Shadowcat."
"Julia," she said grimly, sliding out of the booth, check in her hand. "Remember to call me Julia."
* * * * *
The collar was tight, the metal rough against his skin. Genoshan make, of course. Suppressing him mutant power. The fact that they'd known he was a mutant far enough in advance to make these preparations alarmed him more than a little. A sturdy chain led from the collar to the wall. The thick metal cuffs that held his wrists together were just icing on the cake. He didn't have superhuman strength even if his mutant powers were working. But he could have shaken this metal tub apart, he knew. Obviously they did too.
They kept him in near-darkness, only a faint bulb inside a metal cage high on the wall above the door provided any light. Occasionally it would flicker when he heard distant machinery start. Metal walls. Metal floor. Metal ceiling. He presumed he was being held on a ship simply from the design of the door; rounded corners, a high lip to step over, a wheel for the latch.
The chain was just long enough for him to reach a bucket they'd placed nearby for him to relieve himself in. A plastic bottle of water sat beside it. They fed him only once a day. A big surly man who spoke no Spanish or English brought the food in and watched him closely while he ate. Then took everything away when he left. The only furniture was a fold-down bunk with a thin, stained mattress. There was nothing else in the room. Just him. Julio Richter. Ex-hero. Ex-mutant vigilante. Ex-crusader to restore his family's honor. But all fool.
He wondered where Gaveedra was. He had no doubt that the Mojoworlder was searching for him even now. It was only a question of if he'd managed to get himself captured as well. Or if he'd gone to try to find Domino or some of their other old teammates to help get him out of here.
Shatterstar. The otherworldly gladiator adrift in a world that he still didn't fully understand. The man he'd seduced in a fit of weakness, then abandoned without a word of real explanation. His best friend. He let his head fall forward onto his drawn up knees, long brown hair falling around his face, hiding the grimace of pain on his face. A friend who probably hated him by now, but who understood loyalty like no other he'd ever encountered.
A loyalty that he, Julio Richter, was certain he didn't deserve.
But counting on it was all the hope he had.
* * * * *
As they neared the top of the dusty stairwell, she paused for a moment.
"Do you like cats?" she asked him. Shatterstar stopped several steps below her, the difference putting them nearly eye-to-eye. She had dark brown eyes, like Julio's, but shot with lines of amber giving them an unexpected sparkle. He liked her eyes. They were warm and alive.
"I - I do not know," he said, blinking at her in surprise. The question took him aback. Until now all their conversation had been businesslike. This was different, almost defensive. They had left the restaurant over an hour ago. She'd taken them first a little distance away on a different bus, before transferring back toward the University. Just to make certain they weren't being followed, as she'd explained. But all seemed clear. They both still wore a nullifier bracelet apiece. His naturally accelerated healing factor had adjusted for the bracelet's effect on his mutant power. He was no longer disoriented.
"Hmmm," she said, looking him up and down in swift assessment. "Maybe I should ask if cats like you?" She turned away and marched down the worn hallway, digging in the pocket of her jeans for her keys. "Only pet I ever had was Lockheed. Always wanted a cat. So I rescued three."
He followed her meekly down the hall, waiting as she used two different keys on the door before opening it. She tossed a quick smile at him over her shoulder before pushing inside.
"It's not much, but it's all mine," she said with quiet pride as she let him walk past her and shut the door behind him. It was a tiny apartment, he saw immediately. The space was nearly filled by a folded-out futon bed, a big table with an elaborate computer system and other more advanced electronic equipment on it, and several crammed bookshelves. This was a studio apartment, as he'd heard it called on television. One main room, a small bathroom to one side through an open door, and beyond an archway was revealed a small dining and kitchen area. Lots of tall windows let in the late afternoon sun. The room was warm, but not stuffy. She'd left two of the windows open for air circulation. He looked down in surprise.
Shadowcat was crouched down, running her hands vigorously over the fur of a small animal. A cat. A slender gray cat with bright green eyes, white feet and a white patch on its chest.
"How's Moe today? Keeping the boys in line, are you?" she was saying softly to the creature. It rubbed against her knee as she petted it, purring madly. He knew of cats. There had been a great many cats around Julio's family home in Mexico. Wary, feral, wild cats. He'd had no time, or inclination, to come to know them. Julio's family had favored dogs. He still wasn't comfortable about the idea of dogs as pets. Too often creatures like them had been used as weapons and distractions in Mojo's Arena. Around dogs, he had to fight down a constant, instinctive urge to kill them before they attacked him. The animals usually sensed that. They often settled into an uneasy truce, neither attacking the other, but neither quite relaxed. Especially Julio's mother's toy poodle. He was certain that dog had evil designs on his throat. But Julio had assured him that the wiry little dog had evil designs on everyone's throat. So he hadn't killed it - yet.
He moved further into the room, pausing when a black furry lump that he had first taken to be a pillow on the tumbled bed lifted it's head and blinked sleepily at him.
"Mrrow?" the creature asked. He stared back at it curiously. The cat unwound with a long, slow stretch, rose to its feet, then jumped and landed on the floor with a graceless thump before walking sinuously toward him. When it reached him, it stretched up, placing it's front feet surprisingly high up on his leg. Sharp little claws poked him lightly through the denim of his jeans.
"Mrrow?" it asked again, impatiently this time. He reached down and brushed his fingers over it's head, marveling at the silky texture of the long dark fur. The cat began to purr.
"That's Larry," she said behind him. He looked down at the cat, staring into it's slitted yellow eyes. "He's an attention hound. He'll let anybody pet him."
"Is that an insult?" he asked, only mildly affronted, but stroked the cat's soft fur again. It felt nice. The cat thought so too, because it's eyes slid closed and the purring grew louder.
"No," she laughed. "Just a fact. He'll bug you forever if he thinks he can sucker you into petting him. Just push him away if he gets to be a pest." He liked her laugh. It was light and genuine. Not like Domino's sarcastic bark, or Tabitha's taunting sneer, or the hollow, worried laughter of Julio's family. Kitty Pryde's laugh was clear and happy.
"You said three?" he asked. She walked past him then, shedding her backpack on the table beside the computer, and went into the small kitchen. He heard a refrigerator door open and the sound of things being moved around.
"Oh, Shemp's probably hiding under the bed. He's kind of shy."
"Why are your cats named after the Three Stooges?" he asked curiously. She laughed again, the bright sound lifting his spirits.
"How did you. . . oh, that's right, you're the TV nut," she said, amusement lingering in her tone. "Well, two of them were already named, so when Moe came in and took over, the name just fit her."
With a last stroke of the small black head under his hand, he stepped over to the windows, looking outside curiously. Her windows faced south, letting in the late afternoon sun. The view was of a quiet street below, with several brick buildings of similar design and apparent residential use scattered around. He could hear the sound of a busier street a few blocks away, but nothing else save the normal sounds of a city. They were not too far away from where they had first encountered each other. But there was no hum of energy armor. No tracking alarms. No shouted threats. All was quiet. The cat had followed him, rubbing at his ankles as he moved. He glanced down at it, puzzled. It seemed quite content to rub against his boots, still purring madly.
She came back out of the kitchen carrying a small plate covered with crackers and slices of cheese, and a tall glass of some kind of red juice, a sheepish smile on her face.
"The way you chowed down at the restaurant, I figured you might still be hungry," she said as she handed the plate to him. The gratitude and surprise in his expression made her laugh again. He sank to the floor where he stood, legs folded gracefully under him, back propped awkwardly against the wall due to the swords still strapped to his back and began to stuff the food into his mouth. Larry sat hopefully beside him, looking for a handout. Shatterstar never spared him a glance.
"Guess I was right," she said ruefully as she watched him efficiently devour the snack. "Big boys like you eat a lot. I'd almost forgotten."
While he ate, she went into her small closet and rummaged around. Finally turning up an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of baggy shorts. Not exactly fashion statements, but cleaner than the dirty jeans and sweat-stained tee shirt he was wearing.
"I don't get a lot of guests - but I can at least give you a chance to clean up. Then I can wash your stuff." He blinked at her over the crumbs on the plate, setting it carefully beside him on the floor before picking up the juice and drinking it down. Sugar and fats were a start. Fighting burned lots of energy. Not to mention using mutant powers. He'd need carbohydrates soon. Pasta, the secret power food of mutants.
"I have other things hidden," he said defensively, knowing from the way she talked that he was straining her meager resources. "At the train station." She tossed the wadded up clothes at him. He caught them with ease, dropping the bundle of cloth in his lap.
"Hmm, we can get them later," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pinning him with an intent stare. "Now what happened at the library?"
"Julio had mentioned a place to me: Odegard. I found a reference to it here, at the University."
"The undergraduate library, yeah," she said with a shrug. "You didn't try to go in the front door with those swords, did you? They have scanners at the entrance."
"I entered through service ways," he said, sounding mildly put-out and she remembered that he'd trained with Cable and Domino. Not exactly a rookie then, despite his gently confused demeanor. "There were metal boxes and technical devices that seemed out of place on the lower loading dock - a conveniently secluded area. And men who were too silent moving them into an elevator. It seemed very covert. They were most reluctant to answer my questions. I learned little before the dozen men in power armor arrived."
"There were only six suits when I spotted you... oh," she finished on a sour realization, eyeing him with more respect. He probably could have made his escape without her help after all. Old habits died hard, it seemed, she thought with self-disgust. At least he wasn't bragging about it. He just watched her quietly.
"It is always good to discover allies," he said, silver gaze intent, his expression calm.
"Well hell. You had it under control. I didn't need to get involved at all." She was furious with herself now. A plague on her ninja training. A plague on Wolvie for making it necessary. And a plague on the X-Men. It was very hard to leave all that behind - one temptation and she'd backslid horribly.
"You have already been a great help to me, Shad. . . uh, Julia," he said, catching himself awkwardly on her name. She just glared at him. "You know far more about my opponents than I do. I have difficulty comprehending the ways of these Earther criminal organizations. I am afraid I risk Julio's life with my ignorance."
She glared at him some more, her expression distinctly unhappy.
"This is how it starts - helping out just a little bit. Then before I know it - BAM! - sucked back into the whole mess again. I have classes! A paper to write. I already missed lab today to help you out. And I didn't even need to. Damn it."
She stood up and ran both hands through her short brown hair, pacing around the small room in irritation. He watched her cautiously. From the way her slender body moved, the unconscious grace and control inherent in every motion, he could tell she was a trained fighter. Also from reputation. Wolverine did not waste time on the unworthy. Perhaps she was without his killing edge, but she would still be a dangerous opponent.
She came to a stop, standing right in front of him, seemingly oblivious to the fat black cat stroking her ankles until she stooped over and swept the soft creature up into her arms. She buried her face in the animal's fur, still watching him with narrowed-eyed intensity over it's back.
He was starting to feel as if she would challenge him to prove his worth in combat before she agreed to help him. His palms itched to wrap around the hilts of his swords. A purely defensive reaction to her anger, he knew, and one he fought down firmly. She was a potential ally, he couldn't afford to offend her.
"Okay," she sighed in defeat after several tense moments. "Go get cleaned up. Toss your clothes out here and I'll get the wash started. Then we'll do some background research, okay? I'll point you in the right direction and send you on your way. Good enough?"
He hid his enormous relief and sprang to his feet, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he gave her a short, respectful bow.
"Thank you, Shadowcat," he said, then strode off toward the small bathroom, clean clothes tucked under his arm.
"You better be grateful, bub," she muttered at his broad back, cuddling the black cat close to her face. "Once I'm done with you, it's back to retirement for this kitty-cat."
- - continued - -