Regenerate | X-Men/Avengers - Pt. 1

Ch. 7

Matt's lunch tray slams down. "When are you going to talk to me?"

Stirring my milk with a straw, I watch him take chicken strips off my tray one by one and eat them. By the last I think he's forgotten he was doing it to annoy me and is just eating while playing an odd little nonsense tune; notes plucked from the air and pieced together.

In my own bedroom I sigh, and as the sound hangs in the air I try to catch it like Matt does. My heart jumps as the sigh trembles unexpectedly. I sigh louder and hear a definite bend. Concentrating, I sigh one more time. It booms within the room and I clap my hands over my ears. Carefully, I ease off the bed and am reassured to hear the springs creak at their appropriate volume.

"Do you know what started that fire in the city?" I ask, retying secondhand sneakers in the control room.

Logan arches a brow over his shoulder. "Who've you been listening in on?"

I pull my jean cuffs down over the lips of the shoes. "Bobby was talking about an old friend of his."

"Geez, I forgot about that." He finishes shutting down and turns in his seat. "Bobby was friends with a kid who could control fire; a dropout. His scent was up and down the backstreet, but that's between us."

I nod.

"How's it coming getting rid of my power?"

I chew my lip. "If I don't use it in the next few weeks the neural path should wither away on its own."

His eyes lower. "You can't just tell your body to stop working one day."

My chest tightens. "I copied it I can get rid of it."

"What about your scars? You didn't tell it to get rid of those did you?" His voice is rough. "You only wanted the hallucinations gone, but it's already been doing things beyond your control."

Rising from my seat I hurry upstairs. In front of the bathroom mirror I scratch my face and dare it to stay that way. When it heals I scratch it again, rub it raw, and dig my fingers into my skin. The scraped skin refreshes leaving behind all the dead skin I removed.

I do everything I can think of to stop myself from healing, even trying to reverse the mutation somehow. To this my body reacts violently, doubling me over in pain- the first and last time I will ever try that. Doors in my head swing open and all those decades weigh down on me at once, bringing me to the floor with my face in my hands. I can't believe I did this.

The Professor has ended our scheduled sessions, saying I should come and talk to him whenever I want to. Instead, I'm in the Danger Room before Logan tonight, having memorized his entry code and a number of other things on how to control the room. Playing it safe I keep it to the basic environment, no need to get myself banned from the room for being too ambitious.

Logan arrives, but doesn't comment.

"There's a combat mode," I mention casually. Logan snorts, and I scowl. "I can do it."

"I know you can do it," he replies. "I just don't think you should be encouraged to be combatant. Look, I'm sorry what I said the other night. You've still got a chance to nip this thing in the bud. You did it when you were little after all."

I swallow and look back at the controls. "Things work differently when you get older."

"I think combat sessions would be good for you," he reverts. "It'd keep you from fighting other kids, be useful as an outlet."

"Can we do one tonight?"

Logan thinks on it, then nods and shoos me out of the control room.

He sets up an easy fight; a medium-sized room with two hostile figures. Soon both lie unconscious on the floor before dissipating with the program. After two more simulations like this, we call it a night. Logan guillotines the end off his cigar. "So who the hell taught you to fight?"