A Thousand Doors Ago

by Jeanne M.

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Usual: Characters? Not mine. Money? None here. Poem and inspiration for title belong to Anne Sexton. Ever onwards......

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How many places have I lived? After all these years, I've begun to loose track. I've long ago forgotten places better left unvisited. Alleys, doorways, boxcars that kept out the cold and rain. But no matter how hard you try to forget, there are some doors you can't block from memory. SoCal Juvie, my parents, CynJen, Frost's....

.....the one I'm about to close. Westchester, NY.

If one more person tells me not to leave, I swear I'm gonna blow somethin' up. Apparently, everyone but me is allowed to take time off to 'clear their heads.' Logan, Bobby, Rogue, Remy, damn. I think everyone has left at sometime. I'm tellin' ya, no one thinks around here! It's all about jumpin' to the prof's will, and I'm not about to let the old man push me around again, especially after he kicked me out to the junior leagues once already. He lost any right to order me around a loooooong time ago. Emma may be a world-class pain at times, but she showed me that following ANY dream blindly is a bad idea.

So I'm running. Again. I do that a lot, I guess you could say it's my defense. I run away, emotionally. That way I can't get hurt, I won't be betrayed anymore. 'Cause I let people in, and in the end I only got hurt. I thought I found a new family, people who cared about me, and since then I have been hunted, tortured, locked up, and finally forgotten about and ignored. Lost. So this time, I'm the one doing the leaving, before I get hurt again.

They all know I'm leaving, but I know what they're thinking. They're thinking that I'll lose my nerve, that I'm only bluffing to get attention. If I do leave, it'll probably be a few days before I work up the courage to call a taxi. The telepaths aren't even bothering to monitor me.

Their mistake.

I gently fold my version of a note, and set it softly on top of the tv. I'll probably take a few days for them to find it and realize that I'm actually gone. I don't really care anymore. Keys jangling lightly in my hand, I shut the door and climb on my bike. I don't doubt this is the use Emma intended it for, the woman knows more about human psychology with or without her powers than anyone gives her credit for.

Kinda like me.

I start the engine, keying the access code into my palm pilot that will open the gates for me. A small smile flits across my face, and I decide that sneaking out like this is totally not my style. I'm not their convenient mascot anymore. It's time to raise some hell- Jubilation style.

So I gun it.

And as I tear off the mansion grounds, lights start coming on in the mansion, awakened by the sound of my motorcycle speeding away. I feel the Professor and Jean reaching for me, but I shut them out, using my unique talents to make myself invisible to their scans. I may 'only' be a latent, but not even Cerebro can find me unless I want it to. I feel Jono and Emma ask for permission to enter, and I allow them into my thoughts as the wind tears across my body. I feel Jono's mild annoyance that I hadn't asked him to come along on my adventure, and Emma's silent approval.

**Sorry Sparky, you still got a lot to learn. Kid.**

Both of them laugh, and it dances in my brain like windchimes, familiar and comforting.

**I'll find you later, gel. Yer not the only one who thinks these blighters got sticks in their arses.** Jono's awareness retreats, leaving Emma hovering gently before she too fades out. And for a moment, I see with two sets of eyes- my own and hers. I speed up, grinning like a cheshire as she shows me the pandemonium at the mansion as a foreboding Jono "finds" my note and hands it to Logan. It's in my handwriting, they can't doubt it's from me. But I see the look of shock and hurt when they realize that it's not the typical 'I'll be back someday' note. Emma recognizes the text- she should. She gave me the book for my birthday last year.

Which, by the way, the "Big Kids" forgot about. Again. As usual.

I let loose with a howl to the moon above me, and lean into the bike. I think I'll head west. It's time to go home. I gun the bike faster, if possible, and laugh as the angry wind twists through my hair. Yeah, I should be wearing a helmet, and I normally do, but tonight I need to race the Hunt and be free. The words of my letter run through my brain, and I reach along a faintly glowing psilink in my mind to share them with Jono. Our minds entwine for a moment, and then I slip free and the link dies down. Still active, but not intrusive. He understands.

And I floor it.

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling under me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother's window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father's window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman's yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.