Title: Just Deserts
Rating: R (Few Curse words- rating for possible future purposes)
Disclaimer: No money is being made. Most of these characters aren't mine. You can tell which ones are.
Chapter 1: Decision Making
"So you're gonna go through with it?" he asked as he eyed his girlfriend of almost a year. Watching her movements have become a hobby of his, bordering past obsessive. She sat next to him on their jade green sofa that sat on the hunter green sofa of the wooden floor of their apartment at the base of the upper west side of Manhattan.
"Yes, I have decided that I will, I will meet with him and hear him out." She said looking into her hands that folded themselves on the thighs of her bent legs on the sofa. "It is something that I must do. I must know."
"Do you even know who this person, this Charles Xavier is? The private detective didn't tell you jack shit about this man and why he would want to get in contact with you. The word 'Urgent' is no reason to jump at the beckon-call of a stranger"
"I do it for you," she thought but dared not say it aloud. "He has told me enough, all I needed to know anyway."
"And what if it's complete bullshit?" She had thought about that, but to soothe her mind she didn't dwell on it and decided to accentuate the positive.
"Well then, the only thing that I have lost is time. What are you so afraid of, this concerns me not you?" she regretted the words the moment they emerged. She was unsure as to what action they would invoke.
" You are my concern, damn it!" His voice was hard as if he was prepared to strike, which was just an inkling of the possibilities of actions to come. "Look, I just don't want to see you hurt or for you to get your hopes up and watch them get crushed."
She released a sigh of breath she consciously held relieved at his adjusted tone. "Aw, don't worry lover. I'll be fine." This time she spoke the words looking into his face. He hand soothed the side of his face and he leaned into it.
Her compassionate eyes suggested gullibility to him. Her brilliant smile was naivety. Her innocent looks, is what attracted him to her. It was the way her honey- light auburn hair laid in layers about her face and down her back. It was the way her hazel irises exuded her emotion. When she was sad, they were cloudy and when she was happy they were as clear as a divinely constructed day. When he looked at her, he saw a little girl that needed to be cultivated. If he ever listened, in her voice he would have heard a woman who was already had her childhood. But her 22 years made her a child to his 26.
"I'm going with you." His declaration took her by surprise.
"That's not necessary. I will be fine on my own." She believed her own words but knew he would careless as to what she said. "He is taking this father figure role too seriously now. I'll play along for a bit longer, but soon this shit has got to stop," It calmed her knowing the inner voice was right.
"I said I was going with you, and that's that." His words were spoken as his grip on her left wrist tightened. He knew that was the hand that she depended the most on. She ate, wrote, and drew, amongst other things with her left hand. It would stifle her productivity if she were to ever seriously injure her left hand or wrist.
"Love, that's really not necessary," she said trying to ease herself out of his grasp and to convince herself his is what she wanted. "It is just din…"
"You know I hate when you go against me, you know what happens." Now things were going a little too far.
Things just went in a direction she tried to avoid.
It was a clear night on that particular summer day. Stars would have made a beautiful sight in the city sky if it were possible. No amount of streetlights or neon lights or store lights could create the luminosity of the stars.
She stood outside of Ruby Foo's on 49th and Broadway, delaying what could be the most important night of her life. "No backing out now," she told herself. About to step inside, she thought about her appearance. Taking the compact mirror from her purse, she opened it and almost didn't recognize her own face. "How the hell did he scratch me? That sonovabitch actually scratched me. I am glad he was called away on business. I would've had to kill him." Her internal monologue ceased as she adjusted her honey hair to cover an emerging black and blue mark by her right eye. "Stupid girl", she said aloud to her reflection. Prepared, she walked in was directed to a table where the man she spoke to over the phone sat in a wheelchair.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Xavier." She said extending her hand in a polite gesture.
"Please call me Charles."
"Well then, Charles, I would be honored if you would call me Grace.
"Grace it is. Please, have a seat."
"Thank you," she returned with a smile. It seemed being in his presence had a calming effect on her and she imagined he must had on most people. But then again, not everyone is as they seemed and she knew that.
"No, I should be thanking you for agreeing to meet with me."
"Well, it sounded important and almost urgent."
The waiter came and gone and returned with their drinks. In the minutes it took for that transaction an uncomfortable silence fell over the two. She wanted to know why he had contacted her.
"I suppose I should get the point."
"It is as if you almost read my mind."
"Yes, well, that is not the first time I have been told that." She enjoyed his humor. "My dear, what do you recall of your childhood?"
"What does that have to do with our meeting?"
"I promise you it is relevant."
"Well, I was born in Egypt and almost immediately adopted by an American at the time of my birth.
"I am sorry, I meant what do you know of your birth parents?"
"Nothing really. My father never gives me a straight answer on why he was even in Egypt then."
"Hmm," he did his trademark thinking pose, "Well the reason that I contacted you was because years ago I hired a detective to do a little research on a very good friend of mine. You, see," he said while clasping his hands in his lap, "my friend lost her parents at a very young age and she had no living relatives that she knew of, that anyone knew of. Until now that is. I am very certain that you and my friend are related."
The blood drained from her body and her goose bumps became visible. "How… How can you be certain of this?" She stumbled through her words unsure if what to say and how to react. He pulled from his breast pocket of his blue blazer jacket a picture that he handed to her. She stopped breathing as she looked. The woman was breathtaking, but she didn't see what he must see.
"Wow, she's gorgeous. But I don't she a resemblance. Anyone that beautiful is not a relative of mine." Her voice was disbelieving even to his ears.
"It is true that the obvious things, like the hair and eye color are very different but your facial structure and shy smile, they are the same." She attempted a smile but it was diluted by some new emotion that just developed itself.
"How is this possible? If her parents died when she was young, then how is it possible that she and I are related?"
"If she was to tell you the story herself, she'd tell you that when she was five years old the hotel she stayed at with her family was bombed, killing her father instantly and her mother eventually. She escaped the rubble and lived on the streets in Egypt. According to my contact, two days after the hotel collapsed a young woman was found. She was clinging to whatever life was left in her body, but she was unconscious. The doctors did not have proper identification of her and was debating whether or not to keep her on life support, but then it was discovered that she was pregnant. Four months along to be exact. It had to have been a miracle that she did not loose the child due to trauma. She remained unconscious but the doctors kept her body alive long enough to deliver the child."
He went on and on about the details, but she stopped listening at some point and tuned in and out of the conversation when words like 'bombed' and 'miracle' came up.
"Have you spoken to… I'm sorry but what is her name?"
"Please, forgive me. Her name is Ororo Munroe. And no, I have not spoken to her yet. She is like a daughter to me and I want nothing but to make her happy. She means the world to me and if this did not pan out… well, I just didn't want her hopes raised and then crushed."
"I suppose I can understand that, but this is a bit much. I have a few questions though."
"Well, ask what you will and I will do my best to answer them to the best of my knowledge."
A/N: Well, that's the end of chapter 1. Wondering if I should really continue. If you've gotten this far then that means you've actually read this, so I hope you take the time to review it. Thanks.