ax_main | Simon and Illyana

Simon meets Illyana, pisses her off, and gets a few surprises.

Technically, Simon worked out of a little lab space adjacent to the infirmary. It was small, but neat, sterile, and equipped with all of the latest equipment, which was perfect for him. Actually, it was a little like working in a candy shop, or Steve Jobs' workshop, Simon thought, as he eyed his laptop and the notes he'd accrued so far.

As of yet, he was only studying his own and Xavier's DNA samples, but already, Clarice Ferguson had volunteered, and once he could get Ms. Friedlander retrieve a blood sample from the girl, he would have a third sample to work from. Surely, other students would come forward eventually. In the meantime, he was keeping careful notes of abilities, their quirks and differences, and even the coefficient of relationship within known family members.

However, he couldn't work nonstop. Indeed, he didn't have enough to go off of yet, so he found himself lingering in the infirmary instead, studying the equipment used there (possibly even a step up from some of the teaching hospitals he knew of) and drinking coffee while he waited for the latest matrix to load.

"Ms. Friedlander?" Illyana asked as she pushed the door to the infirmary open and peered inside. She had a paper napkin wrapped around her finger, which had been the casualty of a knife in the kitchen that had been sharper than she'd expected and a tomato that had rolled just as she was cutting it. She entered, but instead of Sharon she saw a boy, about her age, who she was fairly sure she'd seen in the cafeteria at some point. "Oh, hey. Do you know where Sharon is?" she asked. "Or where the bandaids are?"

"She stepped out, to retrieve something from her car," Simon told her, though his gaze dropped to the source of injury. "How would you categorize the flow of blood? Spurting or oozing?"

"Umm...soaking through the napkin?" It wasn't as if she'd looked; she'd just grabbed the nearest thing to wrap around it and come downstairs. "Do you know where the bandaids are?" she asked doubtfully. If not, she was going to teleport to Limbo and cast a spell on it. It shouldn't be this difficult to make something stop bleeding.

Simon sighed. "Yes, but a bandaid won't help if the cut is too deep or you let it get infected." He motioned her toward one of the sinks. "Let me take a look at it." At least he didn't need a medical license to treat a cut.

"And you are?" Illyana gave him a skeptical look, but headed over to the sink.

"Simon Tam," he told her, as though that mattered, then reached over to help her open the napkin so he could take a look. There was no way he could refrain from touching her, either, which was unfortunate. He'd only touched other students with the barest of handshakes so far, but the moment he touched her, he regretted it.

The rush of trauma that hit his senses almost took his breath away, and for a second it was all he could do to keep his eyes on her finger and pretend as though he was inspecting the cut. How the girl could have sustained so much trauma and not show signs of it on her face and arms was beyond him. Even plastic surgery couldn't have smoothed over the scarring he sensed throughout her skeletal frame.

Illyana tensed when Simon paused, her forehead furrowing. "It doesn't look that bad," she observed, turning her finger this way and that. Honestly, she could have fixed it in Limbo with a minor healing spell. As it was, she was pretty sure a bandaid would take care of it. "Are you helping Sharon out in the infirmary?"

"Yeah. Yes." Then Simon paused and frowned. "No. I uh, I'm doing research in the adjacent lab and sometimes assist Ms. Friedlander," he explained, reaching out to turn the water on and offer her the soap. "Clean it off. I'll go get some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid."

"Okay." Illyana took the soap and started washing her hands, though she kept glancing over at the new guy surreptitiously. Something seemed...odd about his reactions, but she wasn't altogether sure what. "What kind of research?"

"Genetics. I'm researching the X-gene," he called back to her, before reappearing with a small tube and box.

"Like Dr. MacTaggart," Illyana replied, just to clarify. She looked around, then pulled some paper towel out of the holder and dried her hands. "Let me guess, you're a genius like Kitty." It was, after all, the only explanation for a teenager doing that kind of research, right? She might be years behind in science, but even she knew that much.

"If it makes a difference, yes, I'll be attending pre-med at Columbia in the fall. Ms. Pryde seems to be focused much more on computers and engineering, however." Simon helped her dry her hand, this time taking a look at the finger in earnest. The cut was shallow enough, he was positive that she didn't need stitches. A layer of ointment and he reached for a bandaid. "And yes, I'm doing research in conjunction with Dr. MacTaggart, who is mentoring me in the meantime."

"Why are you doing research here instead of wherever in Scotland she lives? Because of all the free test dummies?" It stood to reason, right? Maybe Tommy was wrong about the private army, but she wasn't sure she liked the idea of being a lab rat any better.

"Did you miss the part where I'm going to Columbia in the fall? That's in New York, by the way," Simon told her. "So Scotland is kind of a no-go."

"I knew that," though she hadn't. "But it's more than a month away, right? Anyway, you're not denying it," she pointed out.

Simon shrugged and stepped away. "It's a little difficult to do genetic research without a proper allele population. And, while participation is entirely voluntary, it's for the good of your community."

Illyana smiled. At least he was being honest. She bent her finger to make sure the bandaid would stay put, then nodded. That would work, and it didn't seem to be bleeding through. "What are you going to do with the research?" she asked, wondering if he'd be willing to tell that, too.

He blinked at her, as though he didn't quite understand the question. "Publish it. Of course."

She blinked back, genuinely puzzled. "And that's going to help us, how?"

"How would it help you otherwise?" Simon asked. "Only once this information is presented to the scientific community, and indeed the public, will they start to understand mutants and where they come from. They aren't magic demons. They are living, bleeding humans with a fascinating mutated gene that could indicate that mutants are indeed several subspecies of human evolution. This could be the cornerstone for mutant rights."

"And if we are magic demons?" Illyana blurted, unable to contain the question. She crossed her arms over her chest, and tried, hard, to look annoyed and not defensive. "What then? Do we not have any rights?"

Simon looked at her like she'd grown two heads. "This is a joke, right?"

"No," Illyana snapped, then took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Did she really want to tell some guy she'd barely met the truth? Whether he believed her or not - and the way he was looking at her, there was no way he would - he'd run to the faculty and tell them, and she wasn't so sure that Professor Xavier would dismiss it as easily.

Fortunately for her, there was a way out of this without backing down.

"Inu-Yasha says he's some kind of Japanese dog-demon," she pointed out. "Do you know he's wrong? Who's to say he isn't?"

Simon reached over and grasped a swab, showing it to her. "I have to do is do a DNA test on him, and I can absolutely prove he's wrong. He's just brainwashed by ignorant, superstitious people."

Ignorant, superstitious...Illyana's eyes blazed (not red, thankfully, but with anger). "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I find that highly unlikely. I generally know what I'm talking about," Simon pointed out. "Why are you arguing about this, anyway? You know the people here are mutants just as well as I do."

"Oh, they're mutants." Beyond angry now, Illyana smiled - a cold, evil smile. She was going to regret this, she knew. Later. But right now?

Well, Clarice had advised she go with what felt right, hadn't she? "That doesn't mean that's all they are." And without further ado, Illyana called up a stepping disk around her and Sharon's new protege, and despite a momentary urge to send him on his own, transported them both to Limbo. Or, more specifically, to Belasco's throne room. Fortunately for her, the Demon Lord himself wasn't present, though she could hear lesser demons skittering around in the shadows.

"People can be more than mutants, y'know," she added, and with a swish of her hand, her clothing changed, the tee shirt and short she'd been wearing replaced by a black leather halter top and matching pants.

For a moment, Simon just stopped breathing. Just for a moment, that primordial reaction to fear kicked in, and he couldn't think or react rationally. He had felt the change in the air - the pressure shifting in his ears. He could hear the skittering of...something, in the shadows. It was enough to raise goose-bumps along the back of his neck and arms.

"Magic exists, moron. So do demons." Illyana walked around him, gesturing towards the walls. "Would you like to meet some? Or are you still sure you know everything?"

It took longer than he thought, to get his breathing back under control, but when he finally followed her gesture, he sighed. "Whatever you are doing to me, be that telepathy or illusion, I suggest you stop. Xavier will notice."

Illyana stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Umm, sorry. No telepathy, no illusions. My mutant ability is teleportation. And trust me, the Prof isn't here."

"Let's just, go along with your story here for a moment," Simon managed to finally sound sarcastic, raising his eyebrows as he did so. "So you can teleport people. To, what, Hell? And is manifesting a change to your clothing part of your 'teleportation' capabilities?"

"No, that would be magic. Seriously, try to keep up." Illyana rolled her eyes. "Also? This is Limbo, not hell." Honestly, what did he want her to do, feed him to a demon? Granted, it could be done - but she really didn't want to have to explain to Sharon where her student aide had disappeared to.

"I hate to break it to you, but according to Medieval scribes, Limbo is part of Hell. So, you know, at least you got the scenery right," Simon told her, trying not to let the sound of skittering in the background get to him too much.

Illyana frowned, her forehead furrowing. "Hell is its own dimension. I've never been there."

Simon stared at her in disbelief. She really believed that they were in another dimension called 'Limbo'. That looked similar to his idea of hell. And apparently she thought that she could do magic, too. He had no idea what to do with that. Or how to get back to the medical lab, either physically or psychically. "So," he said very carefully, as though talking to a mentally unstable person (which he was), "is uh, is this your throne room? Top marks on the decorating. Very post-apocalyptic chic."

Blinking, Illyana shook her head. "It's not mine. I just...nevermind, you're hopeless." She summoned up a stepping disk to take them back before Belasco could show up (granted, the idea of leaving Simon behind as a gift for him didn't sound bad, but she'd just as soon he not know she'd been there at all), then paused and took off the bandaid. As long as she was there, she might as well take care of the cut, and a few syllables muttered under her breath did just that.

It was a shame, though, she decided sulkily as they reappeared in the infirmary. She'd sort of been looking forward to actually having a scar.

Simon frowned when the infirmary appeared around them again, and for a moment, he had to grasp the nearby counter, his stomach rebelling against what he could only think was a mild case of vertigo. That's when he saw that her finger was still healed. He couldn't help gently reaching for her wrist to inspect it, and ended up staring at the healed skin in disbelief.

It wasn't illusion. Her body was healed. Unless she somehow knew his secret, and knew how to tap into his power to fool him, then she had actually healed herself somehow. But why come to the infirmary if she was capable of such a feat?

"Ex-cuse me?" Illyana demanded, pulling her hand out of his. "What are you doing?" And...damn it, she'd forgotten to change her clothes back. Not that she didn't like the outfit, but it was going to stand out like a sore thumb in the hallway.

"Why come down here if you could heal yourself?" he asked, just now starting to realize that her clothes hadn't changed back, either.

"What, you don't have an explanation for that, too?" Illyana crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed. "My magic doesn't work very well on Earth, is why. And it didn't seem worth a trip to Limbo, just for a cut. I've had worse."

Simon eyed her. Even putting all of the 'magic' information aside, her logic didn't fit. If she truly had teleportation, then it would be far faster to use it rather than walk all the way down to the infirmary. Something else was at play. Besides the fact that she was mentally unstable. He definitely needed to speak to Ms. Friedlander about that. Whatever power the girl had, she certainly needed psychiatric counseling before she did anything else with it.

"Right," he said finally. "Well then. Wonderful meeting you. Magic. Teleportation. Limbo-girl."

"Illyana." Without bothering to comment further - what kind of idiot didn't even recognize being in a different dimension, but freaked out over a missing cut? - she turned to leave. She was going to have to hunt down Inu-Yasha and tell him about this. He might be annoying, too, but at least he'd appreciate the level of stupidity.

He watched her go, finally turning his attention to the thrumming of his heart in his chest. He couldn't explain what had just happened, beyond a near-miss with an extremely powerful mutant, and though he intended to tell Sharon that she should have another look at 'Illyana's' mental evaluation, he wasn't going to tell her much more than that. He'd seem just as insane as the 'magic' girl.

Maybe he was. Somehow, he knew that 'Limbo' was going to be haunting his thoughts for the weeks to come.