Log: Callie/Rachel - New Roommates (backdated)

[x-eidolon.livejournal.com]

Callie meets her new roommate



You know how sometimes when you make a decision based on impulse and hot-headedness and then are forced to follow through with it because of Pride and Stubbornness and other ridiculously stupid reasons? Yeah, Rachel kind of felt like that at that moment, staring at the closed door in front of her. How the hell was she ready for this? As if three months spent on an island with one’s estranged – nevermind that that word wasn’t the best word to use – parents and away from all the strangeness of life at a mutant school during peace times was enough time for this crazy dimension-travelling freak to be able to regain some sense of normalcy.

No. Her ‘normal’ was still war and fighting to the death and regularly attending funeral services and making decisions that balanced the lives of her soldiers in her hands and the wins and losses in the bigger scheme of things. She could talk all she wanted with her shrink and understand rationally every damn thing coming out of his mouth. But it didn’t mean that it worked or made sense on a non-rational level. Normal was not learning how to make small talk or how to interact non-violently with people or taking stupid tests to gain useless paper qualifications. Not learning to live with someone whom she didn’t know, much less trusted with her back in a fight.

If anything else, that last bit really worried her. I mean, what if she killed her roommate? Like, accidentally, of course. Charles wouldn’t like that, would he? But the older, bald psion had merely given her an enigmatic smile and a reassuring pat on her brain in response to her protests and counter arguments and sent her on her way.

Fuck, the only reason she put up with him treating her like a baby was because her fake parents had always felt regretful at how they had let fake Logan eat fake Charles.

… Well. Fuck normalcy. Rachel raised a fist and knocked politely, hefting the duffel bag on her shoulder with a deceptively calm expression. Fake it until you make it, right?

A second or two later the door slowly inched open and a tall elvish-looking girl stood there, leaning against the door-frame, looking somewhat confused.

"Hi," Callie said. Her eyes did a quick up and down scan, taking in the girl before her. The duffle bag and world-weary look in the other girl's eyes pinned her as a newly arrived resident to the mansion, though there was something about her that seemed familiar. The chloropath had no idea why she felt this way about someone she had never laid eyes on before in her life, this intangible familiarity with a face she could not place. Perhaps it was just that there had been so many weary faces in these halls. "Can I help you with something?"

Great. She wasn’t even expecting her. Was that how things worked around here because if that were the case their administrative protocols really needed some looking at. Rachel thought that thought hard in the direction of Charles and received an admonishing push in response.

Still, the redhead quirked a polite smile that didn’t quite reach weary green eyes. “Hi, I’m Rachel. Your new roommate. You must be Callie.”

Right. A roommate. Callie frowned. She faintly recalled the professor saying something about a roommate, but her mind had been so consumed with midterms that she could barely recall what she ate the day before. No sense in arguing about it though; she did have an entire graduate two-bedroom suite to herself.

"Well come on in then," the chloropath said. Stepping back, Callie motioned for Rachel to enter her new home. If one could call a sparsely decorated pseudo-dorm a home, for even though she had been living there for over a year, Callie had not changed much. A throw blanket clumped at one end of the sofa, a few extra pillows, a pile of books, and some potted plants were all the updates the chloropath had managed to make.

Rachel thanked her as she slipped into the room, eyes mapping out the area and taking note of the windows and doors, but not really taking note of the décor. “Nice place,” she said, though, and managed to sound sincere about it. “We get our own rooms?”

"Yeah." The room's original occupant hung back, leaning against the doorknob for support, studying her new roommate. The girl just looked so familiar, but it didn't feel like deja vu.

"I'm sorry, but have we met before? I feel like I know you from somewhere."

“Uhm. Maybe?” Rachel’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I’m Rachel Kinross-Dayspring, if that means anything to you.”

Callie frowned and furrowed her brow in contemplation. It had to be a coincidence, right? That this girl, who looked to fall within the margin where she could be considered roughly the same the same age as Callie herself, this redhead, just happened to have the same name as Rachel. Nathan's girl. Dayspring wasn't exactly a popular name, but nor was it so unique to rule out the probability that separate, unrelated family lines share the surname.

But Callie had been at Xavier's long enough to know that coincidences didn't just happen. Not here, at least. And the more improbable an explanation was, the higher the likelihood that it was the truth. Here, those hoofbeats you heard? Those were from zebras, not horses.

None of it made sense. The Rachel she was thinking about was eight now. Or would have been had she not been killed. Even if she were still alive, she'd be only eight years old. So it couldn't be her. But it couldn't be an impostor either, the professor would have known straight off. Unless he had given her the identity. But that made no sense; there was too great an age difference for that to be the case. So this girl had to be the real deal.

"Occam's razor," the chloropath said quietly to herself. An attempt to calm the stampede of logical arguments. Just thinking about all of it was giving her a headache. Eyes closed, she sunk to the ground with a large exhale; Callie hadn't realized until that moment that she had been holding her breath. "But how can it be? It's not possible."

Rachel’s expression had blanked out as she watched rather detachedly while Callie worked things out in her own time. “It’s a long story,” she offered, not even sounding sheepish about it anymore, or distraught. She didn’t sound anything, really. Just polite and somewhat distant. “I can share it with you if you’d like. But I’m going to want to put down my bag first, if you don’t mind.”

"Uh, yeah, sure." Callie rose, still dazed, and meandered toward the kitchen, motioning to the empty room on her way. "That's your room. Take your time. I'm going to make some tea."

Because at Xavier's when the going got tough, it was time to make tea.