Storm Watching 1 and 2
there will be violence and some romance - if you can read the comics, or watch X-Men Evolution or BtVS, you're fine.
main character: Wesley
pairing: Wesley/Storm, eventually
disclaimer: Wesley belong to Joss Whedon. Ororo Munroe(Storm) belongs to the Stan Lee of Marvel Comics, although the incarnation is closer to the X-Men: Evolution cartoon.
distribution: Cat, Twisting, Paula, anyone else ask.
response to the TNL scenario 64) Give Wesley a woman. With his crush on Fred, and his destructive relationship with Lilah, the poor man's been alone too long. Any pairing is possible... suggestions Wes/Eowyn, Wes/Storm, Wes/Anita, Wes/Amanda, Wes/Janette, Wes/Urs. Unfortunately, I can already tell this is going to be much too long for a QuickFic.
note: AU post Graduation for BtVS, set in the world of X-Men Evolution.
He first saw her by chance, looking out a window at just the right time to see one of the local students talking to her. She was... beautiful, with flowing white hair that would have looked out of place on anyone else, but somehow, on her it was natural, perfect. She was wearing something soft, blue and flowing, with gleaming bits of silver at her wrists. For the first time, he understood the urge to write poetry for a woman. Of course, Wesley Wyndham-Price was no poet, so he resisted the desire to put pen to paper and let a flow of words try to describe her in meter and verse.
Granted, his writings in his journal were a bit overly flowery, but nobody would be looking at those. It wasn't like he was the watcher of an active Slayer, after all. Faith had been in a coma for almost a month before slipping away, and to this day, he wasn't entirely certain that it had been natural. There could have been some interference from the Council, a subtle way to quietly remove Faith in the hopes of gaining a more pliable Slayer elsewhere. He'd left Sunnydale after that, but he couldn't bear to return to England, to face his family. He'd stopped in New England, and was now the owner of a bookstore in a pleasant little town called Bayville. It had two high schools, and only five cemeteries in all, two of which were the tiny, old resting places of the century past. There didn't appear to be any local vampire or demon problem at all, which meant that he had very little to do as a Watcher.
Wesley assumed that he'd never see her again. The boy that she was talking too was not particularly scholarly, more inclined to trying stunts on his skateboard than frequenting bookstores. And he couldn't pin his hopes on such a vision just happening to drop into his store. Wesley tried to resign himself to not seeing the woman again.
The second time that he saw her, he wasn't quite certain if he was awake or dreaming. There were howling winds, and lightning, and red blasts of light. She was out there, hanging in the air, suspended by the winds, looking simply... indescribable. Like a goddess, or the embodiment of the winds, perhaps. She was breathtaking, and he simply stood there, watching entranced. Mutants were fighting other mutants that night, and he had no idea why, or who among them might be the heroes. He wanted to believe that she was, but he didn't know. He didn't really know anything about the balance of local power, the views and practices regarding mutants.
Perhaps it was time for a bit of research.
Researching mutants was... not the same at all as researching obscure demons or elemental spirits. He almost felt like he was drowning in a sea of... mostly useless things. People's websites where they spouted their personal views on mutants, newspaper articles on mutants whose powers were out of control, or mutant criminals, or scientificly indecipherable medical papers on the genetics or physiology of mutation. Slowly, he managed to establish a clearer idea, to get a grasp on the broader world view of mutants. It had never been important before, he'd always worried more about demons and vampires and Council tradition. But he didn't live for the Council now, he lived... for himself, in this world. A world with mutants, not just somewhere in the countryside, but right here in Bayville.
Wesley had the suspicion that mutants could be dangerous. Maybe not all of them, and maybe they didn't go around eviscerating humans to gestate their larvae inside the corpses, but... well, he was actually quite glad of that, but still. He'd found stories about Magneto, and a Sabertooth, and a Green Goblin who wasn't actually anything like a goblin at all, and a person called the Lizard... All of them sounded clearly and appallingly dangerous. And he'd found hundreds of stories about uncontrolled or out of control mutations causing property damage and injuries.
But there was something else that was bothering him. He'd seen part of what had to have been a battle between mutants, with that glorious goddess of a woman hanging in the air, and nothing had been said about it. It hadn't made the local news. It hadn't been in the papers, or rather, there had only been a mention of 'a severe windstorm last night'. It reminded him a bit of the way the residents of Sunnydale had persistently and enthusiastically denied anything supernatural was occurring. 'Gas leaks' and 'gang members on PCP' and 'neck ruptures' were used there to disguise the truth. Were these 'windstorms' and 'cases of vandalism of public property' the Bayville version of denial?
The glorious woman was a mutant, most likely. It seemed far more plausible than the idea that she was truly a goddess, or an elemental spirit. Of course, it still left him watching from afar for a glimpse of her, not even knowing her name. Really, it was a rather miserable position to be in.
end part 1.
The pattern continued for several weeks. Wesley caught a few more glimpses of her, learning that she seemed to have some connection with a few more people that looked like high school students. There was a somber looking young man who was always in red sunglasses, and a red haired girl. There was the skateboarding boy with the yellow hair shaved into stripes, and the dark haired joking boy with a German accent named Kurt, and Kitty, a cheerful girl. Kitty and Kurt were in the store occasionally, with Kitty looking for assorted obscure volumes of poetry, and Kurt buying volumes in German. They both seemed like fairly nice children.
He'd managed to learn from hearing bits of their conversations that they had extra classes from a private tutor, classes that apparently were unrelated to their school. The skateboarder was called Spike, and he lived with his aunt, Ororo, who had to be the glorious airborne goddess that he'd seen. For a while, he envied them for that. They might be young, with little idea of what they wanted to do with their lives, but they got to see Her on a regular basis. He managed to control his irrational emotions, reasoning that it served no point to be jealous of the fact that a pair of teenagers got to spend time with Ororo. Although he did wonder if he could find out what she taught, and arrange for a bit of study in that area...
Truly, he didn't really expect anything to actually change that pattern. No sudden burst of courage causing him to find her and pour out his feeling, no sudden arrival of her, breathless and hopeful at his doorstep... Actually, he didn't even know if she knew he existed. And he really doubted that she would need him to save her from an attacking vampire or demon. Ororo seemed far too capable to need rescued. Which left him... exactly where he'd always been, where he seemed destined to be. On the sidelines, watching life pass by.
What Wesley didn't count on was the fact that life has a curious way of disrupting even the most simple plans. His plans, Ororo's plans, those of her friends and the children that associated with her. Wesley only knew that when Kurt came in to the store on a glorious Saturday morning, he looked... miserable. His head was hanging, and he was shuffling his feet, and just seemed lost into a dark cloud. He barely moved around the few other customers, his hands brushing listlessly over the spines of the German books.
"Kurt? Is something... wrong?" He tried to say something, ignoring the fact that he had no formal cause to interfere, no clue what the matter was. But he'd spent his life learning how to try to help, and he just couldn't stand by and watch the boy suffer. Not without trying.
"Ja... but it is... complicated. I don't know what anyone could do to help." Kurt's voice had a bit of a hoarse, scratchy sound, as if he'd been crying but didn't want anyone to know.
Wesley considered for a moment, confident that the clerk that he'd hired could handle any simple questions that came up. "I might not be able to fix whatever is wrong, but... I can listen, if you want to talk."
For a moment, Kurt looked like he was going to refuse, to brush off the offer of a listening ear. Then, he seemed to slump, almost shrinking in on himself. "I suppose... it could not hurt to talk about it. But, is there somewhere... less public?"
"My office, in the back." Wesley spoke softly, making the offer apparent, hoping that Kurt would let someone help before whatever was bothering him ripped him open inside.
Kurt followed him, almost silently, a somber, miserable shadow through the shelves and into the back. Wesley opened the door to his office, gesturing at the rather battered but comfortable chair that he kept for the times when he wanted to read after the store closed. Hoping to help Kurt relax a bit, he turned to the teakettle that he kept on a little hot plate. "Do make yourself comfortable. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Please." Kurt accepted the cup, just holding it for a while, staring at the wisps of steam as if trying to figure out where to begin with his explanation.
He waited, knowing that pushing Kurt to talk would only alienate him. And it wasn't as if sitting in his office with a cup of tea would hurt anything. There was also the feeling that whatever was bothering Kurt, it would be something big, something serious.
"It happened last night. S... One of my teachers was attacked. I don't know the details, but she was left unconscious. And I don't know if she'll wake up, I don't know what happened to her..." Kurt's words trailed off, and he swallowed at the tea as if trying to drown the words before they could get out.
Wesley felt cold dread curl inside him, grasping at his spine, chilling him. "Was it... did she have a head injury? I assume.. I hope that she is receiving skilled medical care."
"She is being cared for. But... there was no reason... no injury that should have kept her from waking up. What if... what if the cause is something that he can't find?" Kurt's voice was low, rough with emotion.
Wesley nodded, knowing how hard it was to wait as someone lay in a hospital bed, wanting to help and unable to do so. "Yes, that is a difficult thing. I suppose the only thing to do is hope that the doctor caring for her will find the answer, will be able to help her."
"What... what if he doesn't?" Kurt's words were almost too soft to hear.
Looking at the unhappy boy, Wesley sighed, suddenly feeling far older than he actually was. "Then... I suppose it couldn't hurt to pray. And if you need someone to talk to... I'm here."
"That's... something." Kurt sighed, drinking the last of the tea. "Thank you for that much, Herr Wyndham-Price."
Watching the boy slip back out of the office, Wesley sighed. Kurt might say that it was something, but it didn't feel like enough. What if... what if it wasn't a medical cause keeping the teacher unconscious? What if it was some sort of demon, or spell? Granted, there wasn't a lot of evidence that Bayville had a demon problem, but it couldn't hurt to look for anything that might have done such a thing, could it? Then, the sudden dreadful thought occurred to Wesley - was the teacher Ororo?
end part 2.