X-Mansion
Chris woke up to silence.
Not the bad kind but the kind that didn't hum with tension or feel like the air was waiting to explode. Sunlight spilled through the window in pale strips, cutting across the floor and the foot of his bed. For a moment, he forgot where he was.
Then the memories came rushing back.
Chris groaned and rolled onto his side, burying his face in the pillow.
"Great," he muttered. "Day two and I've already insulted Wolverine's kid."
He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom before his brain could spiral any further. The shower helped. With the hot water pounding against his shoulders and the steam fogging up the mirror. He braced his hands against the tile, breathing slowly.
By the time he dressed and stepped back into the hallway, his sarcasm had locked itself firmly into place. Armor on. Shields up.
The dining hall was louder than he expected.
Laughter echoed off high ceilings, chairs scraping, students talking over one another in clusters. Chris grabbed a tray and piled it with enough food to suggest he'd skipped several meals recently, then scanned the room for a quiet corner.
No luck.
"Chris!"
Bobby waved at him from a long table already half-full.
"Traitor," Chris muttered, but he walked over anyway.
Kitty scooted over to make room. "Sit. You look like someone who needs human interaction against their will."
"That is painfully accurate," Chris said, dropping into the seat and stabbing a piece of bacon like it had personally offended him.
Around the table sat Kitty, Jubilee, Kurt, Bobby, Colossus, and Magik. The lineup alone made Chris feel like he'd accidentally wandered into the world's strangest group project.
Jubilee leaned forward, grinning. "So! First night in the mansion. Rate it."
Chris chewed thoughtfully. "Beds are too comfortable. Hallways are a death trap. Almost got stabbed by a Wolverine."
Kurt tilted his head. "Ah. Laura."
"That was her name," Chris said. "Good to know before my funeral."
Kitty snorted into her juice.
Peter chuckled warmly. "You are alive. This is good sign."
"Debatable," Chris said. "She looked like she was deciding where to hide the body."
Magik sipped her coffee, unimpressed. "She usually is."
Bobby grinned. "You kinda deserved it."
Chris raised an eyebrow. "I literally tripped."
Kurt smiled kindly. "She is not fond of surprises."
"Or people," Jubilee added.
"Or mornings," Kitty said.
"Or… most things," Bobby finished.
Chris paused mid-bite, glancing around the table. "Wow. She sounds delightful."
"She's complicated," Kitty said gently.
Chris nodded, filing that away.
They fell into an easy rhythm after that. Bobby argued with Jubilee about whether cereal counted as soup. Kitty complained about a test she hadn't studied for but would absolutely ace anyway. Kurt talked animatedly about teleporting etiquette, which Chris didn't know was a thing but was now deeply invested in.
"So wait," Chris said, pointing his fork at Kurt, "you're telling me you can teleport into a locked room, but you don't because it's rude?"
"Yes," Kurt said proudly. "Manners are important."
Chris blinked. "I am in the wrong tax bracket for this conversation."
Peter laughed, the sound booming and genuine. "You are funny, Chris."
Chris shrugged. "It's a coping mechanism."
Magik eyed him over her cup. "Obviously."
That earned her a look. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is," she replied. "But it works."
Chris smirked. "High praise."
Between jokes and stories, Chris found himself eating without really thinking about it and talking without rehearsing every word in his head first. The knot in his chest loosened again, just a little.
Then his gaze drifted and saw Laura sat alone at a table near the wall. Her posture was rigid, shoulders squared, eyes scanning the room like she was expecting an attack at any moment. She picked at her food more than she ate it.
Chris frowned slightly.
"…So," he said, casually, like his heart hadn't kicked up a notch. "What's her deal?"
The table went quiet and Kitty exchanged a look with Jubilee.
"That's… complicated," Jubilee said.
Kurt folded his hands. "She has been through much."
Peter nodded solemnly. "More than most."
Bobby scratched the back of his neck. "She's new. Like… really new. Only been here about a month."
Chris glanced back at Laura. "That explains the murder vibe."
Kitty shot him a look. "Be nice."
"I am being nice," Chris said. "I'm using humor to process fear."
Magik leaned back in her chair. "She doesn't trust easily."
"Yeah," Chris said quietly. "I noticed."
Jubilee tilted her head. "Why do you care?"
Chris opened his mouth then paused because he didn't have a good answer.
"…Curiosity," he said finally. "Also she almost killed me. Feels rude not to learn her name."
Kitty smiled a little. "She's not mean. Just guarded."
Chris snorted. "Relatable."
Bobby leaned in. "You thinking of sitting with her?"
Chris choked on his drink. "Absolutely not."
The table laughed.
"I value my internal organs," he added.
But even as the conversation moved on, Chris's attention kept drifting back to the girl with the green eyes sitting by herself.
That's it. he thought.
A month here, and she already looked like she'd built walls taller than his and he didn't know why that bothered him.
Chris finished his food, pushing his tray away. "Alright. This has been… surprisingly tolerable."
"That's basically a compliment," Jubilee said.
"It is," Chris agreed. "Don't let it go to your heads."
As he stood to leave, he stole one last glance at Laura's table but she didn't look back.
Chris sighed under his breath.
"Fuck it." he muttered. "Definitely gonna die for doung this."
He turned around before his brain could veto the decision.
Laura was still sitting alone at her table, shoulders tight, posture rigid, like the chair itself was an enemy. Her tray was barely touched. She looked like she was daring the room to bother her.
Chris walked over and dropped into the seat across from her.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Laura's head snapped up.
Brown eyes met green and for a second, neither of them spoke.
The noise of the cafeteria faded into a dull background hum as something electric settled in the air between them. Her stare was sharp, unblinking, predatory. Chris felt like a rabbit who had willingly wandered into a wolf's den and decided to make conversation.
"…Hey," he said.
Laura's jaw tightened. "Get lost."
"See, I would," Chris replied, leaning back slightly, "but this is kind of a public seating situation. Plus, I already almost died today. Thought I'd finish the job."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're stupid."
Chris smiled. "I prefer reckless with a personality."
She scoffed. "You think you're funny."
"I know I'm funny," he said. "Timing needs work, though."
Laura pushed her tray away, metal clinking softly. "You ran into me."
"Tripped," Chris corrected. "There's a difference."
"And then you insulted me."
He blinked. "I called you beautiful."
"That was not a compliment."
Chris sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, look about that. I have a mouth. It moves faster than my brain. It's like a disease. No cure yet."
She stared at him like she was deciding whether to believe that or break his nose.
"You're annoying," she said.
"Yeah," Chris nodded. "I get that a lot."
"You talk too much.
"Also accurate."
She leaned forward slightly, eyes hard. "You're weak."
Something flickered behind Chris's eyes and he smiled wider.
"Oof," he said lightly. "Straight for the jugular, huh? Alright, my turn. You're angry."
Her fingers twitched.
"You don't know anything about me."
"I know you sit alone in a room full of people who could actually understand you," Chris shot back. "That's either confidence or loneliness. I'm guessing the second."
Her chair screeched as she stood halfway up. "Say that again."
Chris leaned forward too, matching her intensity. "Hit a nerve?"
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Their voices were rising now, drawing looks from nearby tables. Forks paused midair. Conversations quieted.
Laura's lip curled. "You think you're tough because you can crack the ground?"
Chris's chest tightened.
"I think I'm tough because I didn't ask for this," he snapped. "Same as you."
The air shifted but neither of them noticed it at first but a low rumble rolled beneath the cafeteria floor, subtle enough to be mistaken for distant thunder. Glasses trembled slightly on trays.
Laura felt it and her eyes flicked downward, then back to Chris.
"You're doing something," she growled.
Chris frowned. "I'm literally sitting."
Another tremor rippled through the room. A few students gasped as chairs rattled.
"What the hell?" someone whispered.
Chris's pulse was pounding in his ears now, heat crawling up his spine. His hands clenched into fists under the table.
Laura's instincts screamed and with a sharp snikt, her claws slid out.
The sound cut through the cafeteria like a knife.
Students jumped back as the floor shook harder, lights flickering overhead.
"Put those away!" Chris barked, standing up.
"You calm down!" Laura snarled back.
The shaking intensified.
Plates slid. A crack spiderwebbed across one of the support pillars. Panic rippled outward as students scrambled away from the epicenter.
Chris's breathing was fast and shallow. His vision blurred at the edges.
"Stop looking at me like that!" he yelled. "I didn't come here to fight you!"
"Then stop acting like it!" Laura roared, claws raised defensively.
The mansion groaned.
Far away, in another wing of the school, Charles paused mid-sentence.
Scott's head snapped up. "Did you feel that?"
Jean's eyes went wide as she pressed her fingers to her temple. "I feel them."
Logan was already moving. "Cafeteria."
Back in the cafeteria, the floor cracked beneath Chris's feet with a sharp bang. Students screamed.
"Chris!" Kitty shouted from across the room.
Chris didn't hear her. All he could see was Laura who was angry, tense and ready to strike. Another person rejecting him just like....him.
I don't belong here, his mind whispered.
The shaking surged.
"ENOUGH."
The voice wasn't loud but it was everywhere.
Chris gasped as a cool pressure slid into his mind, steady and firm, like hands on his shoulders holding him in place.
Breathe, Jean's voice said gently inside his head. You're safe and you're not alone.
His knees buckled and the shaking slowed.
"Chris," Jean said aloud as she stepped into the cafeteria, Scott and Logan right behind her. "Look at me."
He did and saw ger eyes were calm and glowing faintly.
"You're angry," she continued softly. "And that's okay. But you're not in danger right now. You don't have to defend yourself."
His fists loosened and the tremors faded to stillness.
Laura retracted her claws slowly, chest heaving. Logan was at her side in an instant, a hand on her shoulder.
"It's over," he said quietly.
Chris slumped back into his chair, heart hammering.
"…I told you I was annoying," he muttered weakly.
Jean exhaled in relief.
Charles rolled into the room moments later, gaze sweeping over the damage and the two teens at the center of it.
"Perhaps," he said calmly, "we should continue this conversation another time."
But Laura and Chris just stare at each other until Laura grumbles and storms off.
Chris broke the silence first.
"Well," he said, glancing at the cracked tiles and overturned chairs in the cafeteria, "on the bright side, I think I just set the school record for fastest structural damage."
Logan shot him a look that could peel paint. "Not helpin', kid."
Scott adjusted his visor, eyes still fixed on the fractured pillar. "You could've brought the whole wing down."
Chris shrugged, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. "In my defense, she popped claws first."
Laura, already halfway down the hall, didn't look back.
Charles rolled forward calmly, as if the building hadn't nearly come apart. His gaze lingered on Chris.
"Chris," Charles said gently, "it's time we fully understand your abilities."
Chris met his eyes. For a split second, the sarcasm faltered. Then it snapped right back into place.
"Oh good," he said. "Because guessing clearly isn't working."
Jean hid a smile behind her hand.
Chris followed Charles through the halls, the echo of his footsteps oddly loud. Logan walked a few paces behind him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Scott and Jean flanked the rear, quiet but alert.
The lab doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Chris slowed.
The room was massive. It was white, clean and lined with monitors, scanners, and equipment that looked expensive enough to require at least three government approvals. Holographic displays glowed softly. Tubes and cables ran like veins along the walls.
Hank looked up from a workstation, glasses perched on his nose.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Our seismic celebrity. Please, come in. Try not to crack the floor."
"No promises," Chris muttered.
He stepped onto the platform Hank indicated. The metal hummed faintly beneath his feet.
"Alright," Hank said, tapping at a screen. "Baseline scans first. Just stand still."
Chris crossed his arms. "You say that like it's a challenge."
Lights swept over him blue, then green, then something that made his skin tingle. Data scrolled rapidly across the monitors.
Hank's smile slowly faded.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
Jean's brows knit together. "What is it?"
Hank adjusted his glasses. "His density readings."
Chris squinted. "Is that good or bad?"
"Yes," Hank replied absently.
Logan snorted and Hank ran the scan again and then again.
"That's not possible," Hank muttered. "Unless…"
"Unless what?" Scott asked.
Hank turned the screen toward them. "His cellular structure is reinforced. Not artificially but naturally. Bone density, muscle fiber cohesion, organ protection… it's extraordinary."
Chris frowned. "You're saying I'm built different?"
Hank nodded. "In a manner of speaking."
"How different?" Logan asked.
Hank hesitated. "Frankly? I haven't seen durability like this since….."
"Ben," Logan finished.
Hank nodded. "Benjamin Grimm. The Thing."
Chris's eyes widened. "Wait. Like rocks-for-skin, punch-gods-for-fun Thing?"
"Comparable in terms of raw durability," Hank confirmed. "Though yours appears more… adaptable."
Chris stared at his hands. "Huh. And here I thought I was just stubborn."
"Blood sample," Hank said gently.
Chris eyed the needle. "I'm suddenly less durable emotionally."
Jean stepped closer. "You'll be fine."
"Easy for you to say," Chris replied. "You can move things with your mind. I shake buildings when I get mad."
Jean smirked. "Point taken."
The needle slid in and Chris barely felt it and Hank's eyes widened again as the results came in.
"Incredible," he breathed. "Your mutation isn't limited to seismic force generation. It's reactive. Your body reinforces itself in anticipation of impact."
"So I punch the ground," Chris said slowly, "and my body's like, 'Cool, let's not die.'"
"Precisely," Hank said. "But that's not all."
He pulled up another display with waveforms, spikes and erratic readings.
"These tremors," Hank continued, "aren't triggered solely by physical motion."
Chris swallowed.
"They're emotional," Jean said quietly.
Hank nodded. "Anger, fear, stress. Your nervous system translates emotional spikes into kinetic output."
Chris let out a humorless laugh. "So therapy could save cities."
Logan grunted. "Or destroy 'em."
Chris shot back, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, old man."
Before Logan could respond, Chris added, "Guess that explains why my life keeps falling apart whenever I feel anything."
The room went quiet.
Jean stepped forward and smacked him upside the head.
"Hey!" Chris yelped, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?!"
"For spiraling," Jean said flatly. "And fishing for pity."
"I wasn't fishing," he protested. "I was drowning."
She met his eyes. "You're allowed to be scared. You're not allowed to self-destruct."
Logan smirked. "She's got a point."
Chris scowled. "I hate it when you agree with her."
Charles watched him carefully. "This is why control is essential, Chris. Not suppression. Understanding."
Chris nodded slowly. "So what you want me to sit in a room and think happy thoughts?"
Logan cracked his knuckles. "Nope."
Chris's stomach dropped. "I don't like that tone."
Logan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Danger Room."
Scott straightened. "Logan….."
"He needs to feel it," Logan said firmly. "Control doesn't come from lectures."
Chris glanced between them. "Is the Danger Room the one that tries to kill you?"
Jean smiled sweetly. "Only a little."
Chris sighed. "Of course it is."
He took one last look at the screens at the data that confirmed he really was a walking disaster waiting to happen. Then he squared his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Let's see how much damage I can do when I'm trying not to."
Logan grinned.
"Now you're talkin'."
Timeskip
The locker room smelled like metal, sweat, and something faintly medicinal.
Chris stood just inside the doorway, hands in his hoodie pockets, eyes flicking over the rows of reinforced lockers and benches bolted to the floor. Everything here felt heavier than a normal gym with thicker walls, denser materials like the room itself was braced for disaster.
Logan tossed him a folded bundle of fabric.
Chris barely caught it. "What's this?"
"Uniform," Logan said. "Put it on."
Chris unfolded it and saw a yellow and black shirt, matching pants, reinforced gloves. He looked up slowly.
"…I look like a traffic cone."
Logan didn't blink. "Put it on."
Chris sighed loudly, dragging the words out. "You know, back in public school, gym class didn't involve color coordination or near-death experiences."
Logan smacked him upside the head.
"Hey!" Chris snapped, rubbing the spot. "I was moving!"
"Less talk. More changin'."
Chris muttered under his breath but complied, pulling the uniform on with exaggerated irritation. It fit surprisingly well and it was flexible but sturdy.
"That's unsettling," Chris said, flexing his fingers.
Logan watched him carefully. "You'll need it."
They walked out together, boots echoing down the reinforced corridor toward the Danger Room. Chris felt it before he saw it a low hum under his feet, the faint vibration of systems powerful enough to simulate warzones.
"So," Chris said, trying to sound casual, "you always throw new kids into murder rooms on day two, or am I special?"
Logan glanced sideways at him. "You're special."
"Wow. You say that like an insult."
The door opens and the Danger Room od sprawled out before them and it was vast, industrial and already shifting as holographic terrain flickered to life. Platforms rose and walls locked into place.
Above them, behind reinforced glass, the observation deck was full.
Charles sat front and center. Scott stood beside him, arms crossed. Jean and Hank leaned forward, eyes sharp. Kitty, Bobby, Jubilee, Rogue, Gambit, Angel, Nightcrawler, Emma Frost and Laura, standing apart from the rest, green eyes locked on Chris.
His stomach twisted.
"Why are they all here?" Chris asked.
Logan smirked. "Showtime."
Logan stepped onto the floor and turned to face him.
"Alright, kid," he said. "I want you to hit me."
Chris blinked. "Haha. No."
"Full force," Logan continued. "No holding back."
Chris shook his head. "I'm not punching you."
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Scared?"
"I'm responsible," Chris shot back. "Big difference."
Logan stepped closer. "You're scared of what happens when you don't stop yourself."
Chris swallowed. "You asked for honesty, not a personal attack."
Logan leaned in, voice low. "Your old man didn't stick around to teach you control, did he?"
Something snapped and Chris's breath hitched. "Don't."
Logan didn't stop. "Left you to figure it out on your own. Left you angry. Left you breakin' things instead of fixin' 'em."
The floor vibrated.
"You don't know shit about him," Chris growled.
Logan's eyes hardened. "I know he ain't here."
The hum beneath their feet deepened into a rumble.
"Hit me," Logan said firmly. "Or you'll hit someone else someday."
Chris's fists clenched and the room shook.
Above them, Jean stiffened. "Charles…."
Logan planted his feet. "Do it!"
Chris roared and he stepped forward and threw the punch and the impact was like the world cracking.
A massive fracture spiderwebbed outward from where Chris's fist hit Logan's chest, the air itself splitting with a thunderous BOOM. The shockwave blasted outward, ripping through the Danger Room.
Logan was launched backward like a missile crashing through one wall, then another, then a third, disappearing in a storm of debris.
The entire facility screamed.
Monitors in the observation deck flared red as damage reports flooded in.
"Oh my God," Kitty whispered.
Hank's eyes widened as medical scans popped onto the screen. "His internal organs crushed. Severe trauma. If his skeletal structure weren't adamantium..."
"He's bones would have been dust," Scott finished grimly.
Chris staggered back, chest heaving.
But he didn't calm down.
The shaking intensified and it was violent and uncontrolled. Cracks tore through the floor, racing up the walls. Support beams groaned. Lights shattered overhead.
"Chris!" Jean shouted.
He couldn't hear her.
The world was noise and pressure and rage with nowhere to go.
"Emma," Jean said sharply.
Together, they reached out.
Chris felt it two minds colliding with his, a sudden crushing weight behind his eyes.
"No!" he gasped then the world went dark.
Silence slammed down.
When the dust settled, Logan dragged himself out of the wreckage, bones knitting, breath ragged. He wiped blood from his mouth and glanced up at the observation deck.
"He hits harder," Logan muttered, voice rough, "than Banner."