Well we know where we're goin'
But we don't know where we've been
And we know what we're knowin'
But we can't say what we've seen
(Road To Nowhere -- David Byrne)
Dear Moira,
Magnus paused, looking at the words on the computer screen then frowned. He pulled his fingers away from the keyboard. This is more of a professional letter than a personal one, he thought. I should be clearer about that. He pressed the backspace key and began typing again:
Dear Dr. McTaggert, Thank you for forwarding your test results on Justine Miller. I received them today and reviewed them thoroughly. It would seem that you and Dr. McCoy have come to the same conclusion, that Justine's powers are a mystery and will remain that way until she can or will remember herself.
I agree that her emotional condition needs a great deal of work and assure you that everyone here is doing what they can to help her adjust to life "above ground" so-to-speak. I have already noticed a vast improvement in her in these three weeks she has been living here and can only deduce she will continue to adapt.
I must confess I find myself apprehensive about her. Although neither you nor Dr. McCoy can discover what sort of ability Justine has, you have both concluded that whatever it is, it is powerful.
You requested further information about Justine and I am certain this is merely for professional reasons. I do not think it would be violating a confidence to tell you what I have thus far learned from both speaking and observing her. I warn you, it is a pitifully insufficient account. Justine has blocked much of her memory and any effort to try to assist her in recollection has met with failure. I do not adequately understand if this is all psychosomatic, or if her mutant abilities might have somehow damaged her memory. If indeed her talent does act upon her memory, I have at least determined it has not affected her general intelligence. She is behind in knowledge for an individual of her years, but she is learning more with each passing day.
Justine's personal story for her incarceration is that she did something "very, very, very, bad." I have concluded that this "very bad" thing was displaying her mutant gift and presumably in public.
As you noted in your report, she shows evidence of past abuse occurring approximately ten to eleven years ago. Justine admits during the first days of her imprisonment, her father often attempted to "beat the sin" from her, using physical means. What purpose he intended by this is a mystery to me, since it is obvious he never intended to allow Justine to leave the basement. It also seems he abandoned the beatings for reasons just as mysterious. Justine's words are: "He just stopped, I don't know why."
Extraordinarily enough, Justine shows very little resent or anger to either of her parents for the way they mistreated her, but seems to believe they were doing what was best. She becomes apprehensive when I bring up the subject of her maltreatment, but speaks of it almost as something distasteful that had to be done.
The computer he used for his letter was his addition to the room. It ran independently of Cerebro or any of the other computers in the mansion, it had no modem, no way to access the information inside unless someone knew the password. He used it to keep his records. It was not that he thought any of the X-men or the New Mutants would deliberately try to access any records he marked personal, but Magnus was used to his privacy and old habits died hard.
He took a cup of tea from its saucer and brought it to his lips. The liquid inside had cooled. Looking up at the clock above the mantel he realized he had been sitting in here for three hours. Sometimes, he thought, I spend too much time thinking.
The past three weeks he had spent much time thinking about Justine Miller. She settled into the mansion rather well so far, and he hoped it would continue, but he worried about her. She still spent too much time alone in her room. Several times he explained to her that she did not have to stay in her room unless she wished, she was free to come and go.
What is it about her? He wondered. I mean, besides the obvious. Although her confinement in the basement does, in many ways, remind me of the camps and her attitudes that of the victims, it is not exactly the same. I worked with the survivors of the holocaust, but I was always able to keep a respectable distance. There are times when that distance is difficult...
Magnus' attention drew back to the computer screen, which flickered rapidly before his eyes. A little reminder he put into the program to tell him he had not done anything for several minutes. He pressed the space bar.
Another safe guard to make certain he did not exit the program and loose anything he had written. He hit the N button, telling the computer he did not wish to save and poised his fingers over the keyboard. Finish the letter, he told himself. It's late and you need sleep.
A majority of the time Justine spent in the basement she was without any human contact. Her mother usually brought meals down to her twice a day. Sometimes her father brought them down also, but her primary "warden" was her mother. She was allowed out of the basement for one hour every Saturday night to bathe. There was a half bath in the basement for her daily needs. Considering that Justine had no one to impress, she kept up with her personal hygiene rather well, as I am sure you observed yourself.
For the first five years she did have a feline companion with her in the basement named Toby. According to Justine, he had been around "all her life" and in the typical behavior of cats, became "hers.” I am sure this is why her parents allowed him to live with her in the basement. After five years, in Justine's words, "He went away and went away and went away." Whenever she discusses this period in her life, she falls into one of her emotional states and often begins singing. I find I have to shout at her to pull her out of it and when she stops, she does not remember what it was she did. I have concluded that Toby must have passed away. Since he would have been approximately the same age as Justine herself, this is not unforeseen.
Considering all that has happened to her, I find Justine to be a remarkable person. She has undergone experiences that would make most people bitter and anti-social. While Justine is shy and nervous around most people, she is not bitter. She seems to be enjoying her newfound freedom without going through regret over the many years lost to her. I know for fact that most people would not be nearly as forgiving. I do not know if it is proper, but she fascinates me. I just wish I knew what it was she could do. It would make it much easier for me to understand her, to help her, not only with her mutant ability, but in her struggle to assimilate to a normal life.
I know you are a geneticist and not a psychiatrist, but you have shown in the past, a noteworthy understanding of your patients' emotional state as well as their physical one. Any information or guidance you can give me regarding Justine and how I should handle her would be appreciated. I worry perhaps I am spending too much time trying to find out what it is she can do when I should be helping her to dealing with the problems of her past. Sincerely,
He paused again, looking over the letter, thinking about the contents. He hit the control key and pressed the home key, taking him back to the beginning of the letter. Pressing the backspace key, he retyped the beginning:
He hit the control and end key, bringing him to the end of the document and was about to sign his name when he heard a blood curdling scream. His finger slammed onto the R key, holding it down for several seconds, sending row upon row of small R’s What in the world?! Rising from his chair, he hurried out to see what was wrong.
The scream was coming from upstairs. He hurried to the staircase and started climbing. His foot just made the third stair when Justine came running around the corner. She wore a long flannel nightgown, her hair in wild disarray. She still screamed, a high pitched, ear piercing scream. Magnus paused not sure what she would do. He stepped back to the base of the stairs, not sure if she could even see him in her state. "Justine? What is wrong?"
She paused on the bottom stair, shaking, her eyes wide with alarm. "He died!" She wailed. "I didn't mean it, he died!" She flung herself into Magnus' arms, burying her face in his shoulder. "I'm sorry!" She sobbed. "I'm sooo sorry!"
His first reaction was to push her away--this was not proper at all, even if she was hysterical. Her screaming woke up other members of the household who were gathering at the top of the stairs, looking down at the two of them. He started to draw back from her, putting his hands up to her shoulders, then caught Logan staring at him. Logan's eyes narrowed as if to say, "Is your dignity more important than comforting someone who is that upset?" Slowly, he put his arms around her. "Justine, it's all right."
"He died," she sobbed repeatedly. "He died. I didn't mean it, oh Jesus, he died!"
"Who died?" He asked her. "Justine, who died?"
She did not seem to hear him, but kept repeating the same words repeatedly. Magnus looked up to the crowd gathered at the stairs. "Go back to bed," he ordered them quietly. "I have the situation under control. It's obviously just a bad dream."
"Is she going to be okay?" Kitty asked, starting down the stairs toward them, obviously concerned. Illyana reached out and put her hand on her arm to stop her.
"He's taking care of it Kitty. Too many people fussing around her won't make it better, it'll only make it worse."
Kitty opened her mouth to argue that, when she saw Logan nodding in agreement. "Yana's right Kitten. I don't see any need t'gather around her and gawk at her, even if it is only outa concern. Think how you'd feel."
Kitty wavered, then nodded. "I guess I'd feel kinda silly." She stepped up to the top of the stairs.
"C'mon Gang, shows over," Logan said, motioning to everyone to return to their rooms.
"Logan is right," Storm agreed, putting her arm around Kitty, understanding the girl's dilemma of wanting to do what was best, and wanting to know what upset Justine. "We all need our sleep."
Magnus watched as they turned away and began walking to their rooms, then turned his attention to Justine. She was not crying anymore, but she was still shaking and repeating the same lines about someone dying. "Justine," He drew back from her, keeping his hands on her arms to steady her. "Justine, can you hear me?"
"He died, oh sweet Jesus..."
He had hear these words too often in the past three minutes. "Justine," he raised his voice. "Justine, please, stop saying that. Tell me; who died? Why did they die? What are you trying to tell me?"
Her body went ridged for a moment, her eyes rolling back into her head. "Justine?" He shook her gently; afraid she was having a seizure of sorts. For a moment, her body went totally limp, as if her bones and muscles suddenly turned to a gelatinous substance then her eyes rolled back down in their sockets and she stared at him.
"Wha? Where?" She shook her head, obviously disoriented. Her eyes watered in the light from the hallways. "Where am I?"
"At the mansion Justine," he said softly. "Do you remember? You came to live here a little over three weeks ago."
"Yeah, I remember." Color began creeping into her cheeks and she drew back from him. "But why am I here? In my nightgown?"
"You don't remember the dream?" He asked. "You were in bed and you began screaming. I went to see what was wrong and you came flying down the stairs screaming that someone died and you were sorry."
"I did?" She scratched her head looking bewildered. "I-I don't remember. It-it's fuzzy."
"Are you sure?" He asked, studying her carefully. "Nothing at all?"
She thought for a moment and her brows furrowed in an expression that appeared both thoughtful and worried. "No," she answered slowly. "I remember going to bed. I remember turning the lights off, then the next thing I remember was being down here. I don't remember how I got here." She looked around the hallways as if expecting the walls themselves might tell her something. "I-I'm sorry," her voice sounded small and childlike.
Emotionally she is still a child, Magnus reminded himself. She is 23 physically, but mentally she is still behind. It's going to take her awhile to catch up to her age. "It's all right," he said, wishing he could probe her further, but afraid he might hurt her, or cause her to go into one of her fugue states. "It was just a bad dream. No harm done." He took his hands from her arms, watching her.
She looked down to her feet, biting her lip. "It's very odd, but when I was... in the basement, I never had nightmares. Or at least none that I remembered." She looked up at him. "Maybe that's because I was living in one?"
"Perhaps," he agreed. Her flashes of insight into her own personality both fascinated and amused him. She tried so hard to adapt to life in the mansion, tried so hard not to offend and to fit in with everyone. He hoped that the day would come where she felt at ease enough with herself and the situation to stop constantly questioning herself. "Are you all right now? Do you think you can go back to sleep if you tried?"
She drew her lower lip into her mouth, nipping at it as she considered his question. "Yes.." She began slowly, "I think I can." She curled her lips into a small, soft smile. "Everyone here keeps me so busy; I fall asleep easier than I have in ten years."
"The advantages of exhaustion." Magnus smiled. "Would you like something before you go back to bed? A glass of milk or tea?"
Justine shook her head. "No, I don't need anything." She looked at him almost as if she wanted to ask him something, then turned away to the stairs. "G-good night Magnus."
"Good night Justine." He watched as she climbed the stairs returning to her room. When she disappeared around a corner, he turned and walked back into the study to finish his letter.
As he was addressing the envelope for mailing, there was a soft knock at the door. "Come in," he called.
The door opened and Logan poked in his head. "Hope I'm not disturbin' ya."
Magnus shook his head. "Not at all, I was just finishing writing a letter. What can I do for you, Logan?"
"Nothin," Logan opened the door a bit wider, but stood in the doorway. "I was just gonna go make some hot chocolate and wanted t'know if you'd like some."
He was not normally much of a hot chocolate drinker, he found it too sweet, but it sounded good tonight. "Thank you."
"No problem." Logan shrugged. "Making it for two ain't much harder than making it for one. Want me t'bring it here or you wanna join me in the kitchen?"
"I don't wish to put you to the bother of bringing it to me; I will join you in the kitchen." He rose from the chair.
"Good. You can keep me company."
When they got into the kitchen, Logan took a sauce pan from the cabinet and the milk from the refrigerator. Magnus watched him. "Do you need any help?"
"Nah, I don't think so." Logan poured the milk into the pan and put the container back in the refrigerator. "Have a seat Magnus; this won't take long."
"All right." He sat down at the table, watching as Logan reached up into a cupboard and pulled out a block of bakers' chocolate, not even bothering with the tin of cocoa. "What are you doing?"
"Making hot chocolate," Logan replied, turning on the burner under the milk. "I thought we already figured that one out."
"I know that," Magnus said dryly. "I was just wondering why the bakers' chocolate instead of the cocoa?"
"Because I'm making hot chocolate, not cocoa," Logan explained as if talking to a not-very-bright child. "Kitty and Illyana taught me how t'do this one night. Trust me Magnus, once you've tasted it, you'll never want any powdered add-hot-water crap again."
"I will leave that judgment for when I taste it."
"Suit yerself," Logan shrugged, opening the sugar canister and scooping out a generous amount. He poured it into the heating milk, popping a claw and using that to stir it. Satisfied the sugar had dissolved, he picked up the chocolate and used his claw to scrape off tiny shavings into the liquid.
"Interesting way of using those claws," Magnus commented.
"Works don't it?" Logan paused from slivering chocolate and stirred the milk so the shavings melted into the liquid. "Don't know if the creator intended me t'use em' like this, but if he didn't screw him."
"Point taken."
"Kitty an' Yana make this a two-person operation," Logan commented. "One does the scrapin' and one does the stirrin. I think they have as much fun makin' it as they do drinkin' it." He smiled.
"Illyana and Kitty can make almost anything fun," Magnus said, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. "Sometimes I can hear them in the library doing their homework and laughing and wonder how they can be learning anything? But they have yet to get any mark lower than an A."
"It's all in how ya look at things," Logan said, looking down at the liquid. It began to turn a faint brown color. "Yana an' Kitty try t'look at the bright side o'things. You an' I? We have a habit o' seein' the dark." He shaved in more chocolate, watching as it disappeared, merging with the milk. "Speaking of The Dynamic Duo, they were worried 'bout Justine. She okay?"
"She's fine, it was just a bad dream," Magnus murmured. "She didn't even remember it."
"Yeah, I figured that much out myself." Logan reached into the cupboard and took out two large white mugs. "I told em' she'd be okay with you when we were gettin' em' back into bed, but you know them. They both got big hearts an' they worry."
"That's true," Magnus agreed.
"They ain't the only ones who worryin', " Logan commented as he skillfully poured the hot chocolate into the mugs.
"Oh?" Magnus' brows rose. "Who else is worried?"
"You are." Logan picked up the two mugs and brought them to the table. "Wanna talk?" He put one mug in front of Magnus and sat down across from him with the other.
"I am fine Logan," Magnus said, feeling a little uncomfortable with this straightforward way of Logan's. It wasn't all that long ago that both of them were on opposite sides. "But thank you for asking."
"I know yer fine." Logan raised his cups to his lips, rolling his eyes. "But that don't mean you can't be worried. Nothin' wrong with talkin' 'bout what's on yer mind Magnus. No one's gonna think yer weak. 'Sides, I was with ya when ya 'rescued' Justine, so I sorta feel... responsible for makin' sure the kid's okay. You've been spending the most time with her since she got here. So tell me, what's up?" He sipped his drink, watching Magnus.
Magnus' hand curled around the cup as if to soak up the warmth, even if it was not cold in the mansion. "You know Logan, there are times when I really wish Charles was still here."
"Why don't you try drinking that instead of just stroking the cup," Logan suggested, inclining his head towards Magnus' yet untasted mug. "As for Chuck, birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, Charles Xavier gotta get laid. Why do you wish he was here?"
Almost unwillingly, a snort of laughter burst from Magnus. "You have such an eloquent way of putting things Logan! 'Gotta get laid,' indeed." He raised the cup to his lips and took a tentative sip, letting the rich taste of the chocolate slide over his tongue and down his throat. "You're right; this isn't bad at all." He took another, large swallow.
"Well, he is up in space with the woman he loves, I doubt they spend their nights playin' tidily winks. Nice dodge, by the way, but no dice." Logan shook his head. "You didn't answer the question. Why do you wish Chuck was here?"
"For a variety of reasons." Magnus put the cup back down and looked over at Logan steadily. "But, concerning Justine Miller, I wish he was here so he could read her mind. Find out what it is she can do."
"I thought you could do that mind mumbo-jumbo yerself Mags," Logan reminded him. "Why don't you do it?"
"I am not nearly the telepath Charles is," Magnus reminded him. "I've tried..."
"And?" Logan prompted him.
"...And she has got some sort-of psychic barrier in her mind," Magnus explained. "I don't know if it's part of her ability or if she somehow managed to put one up in some sort of defense. To be honest, I haven't really pushed it. I don't know if I could hurt her if I did. Her mental state is...delicate now. I don't want to run the risk of damaging her." He raised the mug again, holding it in both hands but not drinking from it.
"Or it could be the secret in unlocking the doors," Logan pointed out to him. "The kid's got gaps in her memory. I'll bet most of those gaps are neatly tucked behind that wall eh?"
"Most likely," Magnus agreed, "but I'm not ready to take that chance with her. When I went down in that basement to help her, I promised her she would be safe, that she wouldn't have to live in fear. I'm not going to violate that trust, at least not until she fully understands all the risks. When she has fully accustomed to normal living, if she still doesn't remember, perhaps then I will try to probe into her mind."
Logan nodded. "I see yer point." He took another swallow of his drink and stared into the cup for a moment. "Do you ever worry that whatever it is she can do, not knowing might be dangerous? Not just to her, but to all of us?"
"Almost every minute of every day," Magnus answered immediately. "And tonight made me wonder even more. All she would say is 'he died, he died!' and, 'I didn't mean it!' I think the first time she used her power, it killed someone." He looked at Logan, his eyes flashing. "And I'm betting it was spectacular. Spectacular enough to convince most of a town to lock her away"
"Sounds likely," Logan said evenly. "In fact, if I could find someone t'take the opposite side, I'd bet fifty bucks you've hit it on the head." He put his cup down and reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a cigar. "Till we know for sure, Justine might be a walkin' time bomb."
"I know, that worries me also," Magnus confessed. "There are children in this mansion Logan. Is it fair to endanger them?"
"Life endangered them when they were born mutants," Logan reminded him. "Besides, the New Mutants are not normal kids. Most of em' had t'grow up real fast. They've fought adult battles, dealt with adult issues. If you're worried about what kinda threat Justine might be to em' you should talk to em', ask em' how they feel. But, I'll betcha five bucks they'd all be horrified if you suggested gettin' rid of her, specially 'for their safety."
"Oh I know they would," Magnus agreed. "They like Justine. Maybe it's because she's physically an adult, but she looks up to them, asks them for advice."
"Or maybe it's just cause Justine's a nice person," Logan said. "She's shy, yeah, but if ya take the time t'talk t'her, she's friendly enough." Logan leaned back in his chair, lighting up the cigar.
"Besides, I couldn't send her away even if I knew of someplace to send her," Magnus said thoughtfully. "I promised her I would help her. Sending her away isn't helping her."
"That's right," Logan agreed smoothly. "Seems t'me as you really got no choice but t' just wait it out. Somethin's gonna give eventually an' Justine'll either remember what it is she can do, or she'll show us."
"That's it in a nutshell." Magnus smiled faintly. "All I..." He hesitated, then corrected himself, "All we can do is wait, try to help Justine however we can, and hope for the best."
"Good advice," Logan said. "Do you well t'take it yerself Mags. No point in worrying 'bout what you can't change."
"True." Magnus finished the rest of the chocolate and put the cup back on the table. "That was good. I'll have to tell Kitty and Illyana I approve of their recipe."
"They'll be thrilled," Logan said, rising from his chair. He picked up Magnus' and his cup and carried them over to the sink. "Well, maybe it's time fer me t'get t'bed."
"Good idea. I should turn in myself."
Logan put the cups in the sink and filled them with water. "Think you'll be able t'sleep now?" he asked casually.
Magnus rose from his chair. "I believe I will." He started to leave the kitchen, then stopped and turned back to the man at the sink. "Logan?"
He turned. "Yeah?"
Magnus drew in a sharp breath. "Thanks. I-I did need to talk."
Logan shrugged. "Any time Mags."