Welcome to Generation X, Teacher
Chapter 3
By Yasmin M.

Dislaimers and notes in Chapter One. {{...}} represents telepathic communication and italics indicate thoughts or emphasis. This part contains some angst, <shocked gasps> but I swear upon Prof X’s bald head that this is NOT an angst story. Sorry for taking so long with this. A thank-you, as always, goes to my patient beta-readers. This story is rated PG-13 for language.

"Stop patronizing me or I'll scatter your bloody limbs all over the floor. I told you, damn it, I'm fine. Nothing wrong that an aspirin can't cure. Frigging mother hen.[1]"

"Such language. Yuir swearing like a sassenach, lass." He grinned, amusement and relief lacing his tone. "Ye'll nae be cursing in front o' t'children, I hope?"

"You're Irish, dear, not Scottish. And I doubt that the "children" are anywhere as innocent as you think, by the way."

"After a few months with ye, they certainly won't be," he laughed.

"Sean!" Her right wing swooped threateningly.

Emma leaned against the wall, quietly watching their banter. Faez and Sean obviously enjoyed each other's company -- she hadn't seen him that good-humoured in months. She felt something stir within her... jealousy, perhaps, of the new teacher's closeness to him? The thought was quickly banished, as was other thoughts of its ilk.

Fauziah Khalil. Formerly codenamed "DejaVu". She was an unknown quantity, and Emma Frost disliked mysteries. Life on the streets, and later in the corrupt opulence of the Hellfire Club taught her the danger of things that lurked in shadows. At first Faez seemed exactly as what her files and Sean's stories -- not that he was exactly forthcoming -- led Emma to conclude: an intelligent, friendly ("but shy," he had said) woman with a non-aggressive mutant power. But recent events painfully proved otherwise.

The telepath's eyes narrowed. She said that she let me scan her mind, she thought. Nothing she read or heard suggested that Faez was sensitive to telepathy, let alone resistant to mind probes. Emma hid a shudder, and silently cursed whoever left the files incomplete. She made a mental note to update them.

"Ms Frost?" ventured the subject of her thoughts. Sean was eyeing her a trifle warily, mercifully keeping his mouth shut. Emma's condition after the incident prevented him from arguing with her, but she knew that peace would not reign for long.

"Yes?" she replied coolly.

"Sorry for trapping you in my mind." Faez hesitated, but continued determinedly, "I know that you didn’t mean any harm. Maybe I should have just let Monet scan me." A grin touched her lips. "But she was getting on my nerves. Hush, Sean," she said quickly when he shifted his stance, "Ms Frost didn't know. I accidentally caught some of her thoughts, and it seems that my files are incomplete."

"Monet telepathically told me that she could only sense psi-static from you," Emma said, dignity inherent in every word. "It may be a side-effect of your precognition, but at that time I had no way of knowing it. I suspected that something was not right with you, or that you might be harbouring a dangerous secret." Something which happens all too frequently, whispered her mind.

"So you probed my mind," Faez finished. "I understand."[2] She absently caped her wings around herself, and added dryly, "Not that I was ever really tested on that particular quirk. The X-Men were... rather occupied at the time."

"Now, lass..." Sean started, but at the two women's combined Evil Eye he subsided, muttering something acid under his breath.

"Anyway, telepaths can't read my thoughts unless..." she frowned, trying to find the words, "I somehow hold them together. It was theorized that it's because my mind, or rather, consciousness, is not "anchored" to the present." Frustration etched her face as she said, "From what I understand of that long, incredibly boring report, part of my consciousness has the "ability" to travel in time, thus able to get sensory perception of the future. Sounds rather like science fiction, doesn’t it? I don't know how much of that mumbo-jumbo I really believe. All I know is that I can sense bits of the future. Among other things."

Faez relaxed slightly, diffidently twirling a shed feather. "Mutation runs in my father's family. No Alphas, just stuff like a limited healing factor, super strength, near-invulnerability -- little things that make life in the highlands of Sabah just that much easier.[3] Precogs pop up and say hi every five generations or so, but I've never heard of anyone having wings," she finished, gesturing at the pair. "They grow when I want them to, or if something triggered my fight-or-flight instinct." She stretched her now claw-like fingers, adding wistfully, "I don't mind the wings, but I hate the talons."

Emma raised a pale eyebrow. Indeed. "I think that would be quite sufficient to update your files, Fauziah," she said, enjoying the look of consternation on Sean's face as she pronounced the new teacher's name smoothly.

"Please, call me Faez."

"I can see why ye did what ye did, Emma, but ye should have asked," Sean butted in, still nursing his earlier grievance.

I *knew* it. "Cassidy, would you have asked first if you thought that there might be a threat to the school?" Emma retorted heatedly.

Tension pervaded the sterile room, and the pause was like the drop of an anvil.

"Well, nae," he finally admitted grudgingly. They glared at each other, not budging. Faez was suddenly and unpleasantly reminded of two tigers, each eyeing the other with naked hostility.

"Ahem, excuse me, guys. I hate to break up this little war, but how's Monet?" she asked, slightly nervous. What have I gotten myself into? I should have stayed in Malaysia... or brought my water-gun.[4]

"She's fine," Sean reassured her. "Nothing worse than a bruise on her pride."

"Oh. I was afraid that I might have injured something vital," she said, and her smile had just a touch of malice in it. Looking down at her unsalvageable shirt, she sighed and asked, "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to change my clothes?"

"Nae at all, lass," he replied, exiting hastily with one last look at Emma.

His co-administrator lingered, a question at the tip of her tongue. Which, to her disgust, she was too nervous to voice. But the other woman spared her the necessity, knowing the what she was about to ask.

"My precog power rarely shows the whole picture, Ms Frost. It's almost like looking through a hollow tube -- I usually only see flashes, or perhaps hear a word. Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, one might say. That blue bit may be part of the sky, or it could be a flower." Her voice hardened as she continued, "What I want to know is this: what are your intentions towards him?"

Emma's expression matched her surname. She contemplated giving answer guaranteed to raise Faez's hackles, but discarded the idea. A bubble of rueful laughter threatened to escape her lips as she thought, She saw my future. What difference does it make if I tell her? "Normally I would not have any scruples against having an affair with an attached man, Faez, if I wanted to. But not him. Never. He is... different." Her face never changed, but Faez could have sworn that her eyes softened at the last word.

"I'm so sorry, Ms Frost. I should never had shared that vision with you." The younger woman's face was stricken. She patted the telepath’s hand, and said gently, "If it comforts you any, the future is what you make it to be. It's all up to you. It always was, and always will be."[5]

"Thank you," murmured the White Queen. She walked to the door, paused, and said over her shoulder, "You may call me Emma." With that, she left.

Faez blinked, then shrugged philosophically. I knew she was all right, she thought. She shook the t-shirt she held in her hands, distastefully noting the large X emblazoned on its front, and contemplated the miracles of unstable molecules.

Nice exit, too.

In another part of the mansion, night blanketed the building's occupants with its silent, moonlit serenity.

"Gimme the remote, Ange!"

"Chica, there is no way I'm watchin' Ally McBeal."

At least, it would have, had it not been shredded by the hazard-level decibels. Sometimes even nature knew when to pack up and leave before being forcefully booted out on its derriere.

"Aw, c'mon, yer already made me miss five whole minutes!" Jubilee made a futile grab for the remote control, accidentally trampling Everett in the process.

"Ow!"

"WhoopsEvdidn'tseeyasorry!" She made another attempt, thwarted by Angelo's longer reach. "Give it back!"

"If you think I'm watchin' some dancin' baby and that sick woman, you've 'nother think comin'."

{{Angelo, give the gel what she wants and put us all out of our misery.}}

"Thanks for the support."

{{Anytime, mate.}}

"The show started ten minutes ago! ANGE!"

Monet looked up from her book, one eyebrow arched in amused disdain as Jubilee began to chase Angelo around the room. She androitly avoided Jubilee's blind rush as the other girl swore eternal vengeance against the laughing Angelo. Immature brat, she thought.

The last occupant of the room was not so lucky. The screaming teenager tripped over her outstretched legs and fell face-first to the floor, bringing along with her the nearest handhold -- Paige. Mouth open in a silent shriek, she tumbled down, painfully hitting her elbow.

"Ouch! Jubes, you clumsy--ow!"

"What else can you expect from Jubilation's under-developed mentality?" came Monet's sarcastic voice.

Jubilee's answer was a nasty glare and a "An' I suppose what ya did this afternoon was smart, Miz Perfect?"

The Algerian mutant stiffened. "For all you knew, she could be an enemy. I did the logical thing by asking Ms. Frost to help me probe her mind," she answered coolly.

"As it happens, she isn't our enemy," Everett pointed out. "It must have something to do with her power."

"I think Miss Faez is a nice teacher," said Paige, rubbing her elbow. She looked around at the assembled faces. "What about y'all?"

"She's kewl! Did ya see her wings?" piped Jubilee, who managed to wrestle the remote control from Angelo and was settling down happily on the sofa.

"I dunno, Paige," said her erstwhile opponent. "I think she's interestin'. Least she has nice eyes," he added, grinning as the blonde gave an exasperated groan.

{{I think she'll do fine here,}} Jono sent from his seat near the window. He remembered her smile as she shook his hand, totally at odds with the glint in her eyes. There was no pity, or even sympathy in them. Lady looked as if she wants to... kick my arse, he thought, slightly unsettled. The "lady" in question would have snickered at his thoughts and replied in the affirmative, but of this Jono was blissfully ignorant. So far.

Everett looked slightly doubtful. "She doesn't look like she can fight. What if Emplate comes back and she gets caught in the middle?"

The thought of their most persistent enemy naturally turned all eyes to Monet, who merely said, "Despite my reservations, I suspect that she is more than capable of holding her own, Everett. I am interested to see how she would teach us."

Jubilee's face was alight with an evil grin, one that was probably seen on Stephen King's face as he imagined his readers' reaction to "Salem's Lot". And should be accompanied by lightning, for that matter.

"I've got an idea, guys...."

[1] I tend to curse a lot when I'm upset or angry.
[2] I don't believe that the end justify the means, but I do believe that dangerous times calls for dangerous measures. ;D
[3] Yep, my father's folks hail from here, which I must say (with all the bias appropriate to the occasion) is one of the most beautiful place in Malaysia.
[4] Doesn't anybody else have the urge to do this when they fight? ;)
[5] And this is all I'll ever say about what Faez forced Emma to see. The interpretation is up to you. <evil grin>