Skippy, Interlude: Bearer of Bad News

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Tuesday afternoon, Charles takes Jamie into Cerebro to explain that Skippy is very good at hiding.


Jamie added "meeting in the hall by the medlab instead of the Professor's office" to "long wait for news" on his mental list of signs that his renegade dupe hadn't already, and probably wasn't going to, go away on its own. He mentally debated poking a head in to see how Nathan was doing, but that was a delaying tactic, he knew–and anyway, the Professor was right there, doing that kindly-and-sympathetic-smile thing he did. Jamie put the smile on the list too.

"Hello, Jamie," the Professor said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous, mostly." Jamie shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's not good news, is it."

"No, I'm afraid it isn't. I'd like to show you what I have found, however, both because it will be easier to demonstrate than explain, and because your understanding of your own powers may lead to valuable insight."

Jamie shrugged. "Okay."

The Professor led him down the hall, to a part of the basement he'd never seen before, and paused before a very large, very sturdy-looking door. Jamie was piqued out of his foreboding by the door–retinal scanners weren't exactly routine–and even more piqued by the room revealed; large and spherical, a narrow bridge arcing out toward a platform in the center, where a console with attached skullcap waited. The Professor wheeled out onto the bridge with the ease of long practice; Jamie followed behind, trying not to peek over the edge. Lights tracked their progress, then moved on ahead to encircle the platform, and other lights illuminated the rest of the room. It was big. And round. And empty. And actually kind of cool-looking, aside from the bigness, the roundness, and the emptiness.

Jamie cut his train of thought short–it was getting awfully repetitive–as the Professor stopped in front of the console and turned to face him. "This is Cerebro; it's how I locate mutants."

It was a gigantic gadget, then. Jamie looked around a lot more interestedly. "How's it work?"

"It amplifies my telepathy, and allows me to more easily isolate mutant brain signatures." The Professor smiled. "It's all a bit complicated, actually, and not always as reliable as I'd like it to be. I'd like to show you what I found when I attempted to search for your missing dupe."

"Sure. I dunno how much I'll be able to help, though."

"Well, that's part of what I'm hoping to find out." The Professor turned back to the console, taking the helmet in both hands. "Please try to stay still," he added over his shoulder. "It's a little unsettling to watch, the first time."

The Professor was very, very good at understatement. Jamie knew this. It was still almost all he could do to stop himself from accidentally jumping off the walkway when the entire room turned into a holographic display. Once he got used to it, though, it was actually . . . really pretty, kind of like one of those posters of the Earth at night from space.

"The lights represent each and every mutant in the world," the Professor explained without turning. "The computer helps me zero in on particular types of mutation, specific areas of the world . . . any number of search criteria."

"Wow," Jamie breathed. "There's so many."

The Professor chuckled. "More than almost anyone realizes–but still only a small fraction of the world's population. Now–" The display swirled, and so did Jamie's stomach.

"Uh, Professor?" He gulped. "It's very pretty, and stuff, but . . . does it get easier to watch?"

There was definitely a smile in the Professor's voice when he replied. "Well, it does help to be sitting down. That should be all for the vertigo, however."

"Right." The East Coast hung before their eyes; what had been a sort of indistinct haze resolved into discrete dots–a huge clump of them in what had to be New York City, and another, small but very bright, had to be the mansion. Between them, and ranging across most of New York, another haze glimmered faintly. The Professor did something–probably, anyway, and Jamie wondered offhandedly whether Kitty could explain the mechanics of a telepathic user interface–that made the rest of the lights dim, and the haze pulse slowly.

"This is the only trace I can find of your renegade. Faded, spread out . . . there's no presence to it at all, or precious little."

"He's probably duped," Jamie said firmly. "Sent the dupes all over, and his mind's spread too thin to pick up?"

"That was, indeed, my conclusion. I think we can count it as confirmed."

"Okay, so . . . what does that mean?"

"Unless he's simply covering his retreat . . ."

Jamie shook his head, and the Professor trailed off. "He told Kitty he'd be seeing her again soon. I wish he was leaving."

"Well, it was merely a possibility. I'm not entirely sure what he'll do, I'm afraid–only that it is unlikely that I'll be able to locate him telepathically."

"Great."

The display vanished as the Professor removed the helmet and turned toward Jamie, concern on his face. "That doesn't mean I'm giving up, and nor should you. We simply have one less option than we did. I have a number of other lines of inquiry open, and I promise you that I'll do everything within my power to keep you, and Kitty, and everyone else safe. We will find him, Jamie."

Jamie rubbed the back of his head. "I know you will–sorry, Professor, it's just . . . this is so . . . he's out there, somewhere, and Kitty's scared, and I'm scared . . . and he used to be me. I'm scared of myself. I thought I knew who I was, but if . . ."

"You are still who you are, Jamie." The Professor smiled. "Trust me on this, at least; I do know what I'm talking about. Have you spoken with Doctor Samson about this?"

"Yeah, he's helped a lot. And Kitty has. I'm usually . . . more okay, I guess I just thought you'd tell me everything was taken care of."

The Professor nodded. "I wish I could. I very much wish I could. I can say that I believe you have the strength for whatever awaits you. You will see the other side of this."

"Thanks, sir." Jamie sighed, then visibly straightened. "Okay. I should probably go make some more cookies, Miles fed 'em all to Nathan's big friend this morning. Can I bring you some?"

"I wouldn't say no to gingerbread."