Chapter Text
Lightning was good at running. In fact, it was what he was best at. He loved it.
But running for the pleasure of going fast, and running from someone? Were very different things.
***
The trees, fields and infrequent estate gates blurred in a miss-mash of greens, freckled with brown, as he ran. Finally, Lightning paused for breath outside the gates of the Westchester manor – or castle, more like. He was panting, which was unusual for him. However, to be fair, he had run an awful long way, carrying an awful amount of anxiety.
He wasn’t sure this was the right move, but he was out of ideas.
He walked through the unlocked gates and up the pathway. It was like a little white flag – “don’t attack, mutant not using their abilities, comes in peace”. However, Lightning’s whole being jittered with nerves and called for him to go fast, to run and be free of this feeling.
With clenched fists, he stopped at the door and took a deep breath.
“Don’t be a coward,” he murmured to himself and raised his fist to knock.
But before he could, the door opened.
“You’re running pretty late for a speedster.”
A short, pretty woman with a blonde bob and an immaculate button up and slacks had spoken, looking at him appraisingly.
“… what? Excuse me, do I know you?” Lightning asked stupidly, feeling like he’d missed the start of a conversation.
“Not yet. Come on through, the Professor is in his office.”
She stepped back, and Lightning automatically walked in. She swung the door shut and walked away, pausing to look back at him like she was annoyed he wasn’t following.
It kickstarted him into action, walking after her with an apology on his lips.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, before he paused. “Wait, no I’m not. How do you know me? How do you know I’m here to see the Professor?”
She only smiled in answer.
“What, are you…” realisation dawned slowly on Lightning. “Are you psychic?”
It was a whispered hiss, after he glanced around to see if anyone could overhear. Then he realised he was in a school for mutants.
Probably no need for secrecy.
“Yes,” she replied in the same stage whisper, stopping outside a set of double doors.
“Oh. Cool.”
She smiled wider, a little bit like she was laughing at him, and opened the doors, indicating he was to precede.
He stepped through, and the door closed behind him, the pretty psychic woman on the other side.
“I have it on good authority that the chairs are more comfortable than standing in the doorway,” came a deep voice.
Lightning turned from where he had been standing staring at the loss of his exit. Behind a large desk sat Professor Charles Xavier, arguably the most famous mutant in the world. He looked smaller but kinder than the photos Lightning had found via Google from various speeches and articles (both pro and anti-mutant). He was watching Lightning with amusement, the same twinkle in his eye that psychic woman had.
“Uh, hi,” Lightning said, before cringing. Moving as quickly through life as he did, he wasn’t used to stopping and taking the time to plan. He had been relying on like, gatekeepers and needing to convince people that he should be allowed to talk to Professor X, for time to think through what he would actually say to the man.
“I’m… you know who I am, don’t you?” Lightning asked suspiciously.
The Professor smiled, gesturing kindly for him to be seated. Lightning perched on the edge of the seat, and his legs started to immediately jiggle. He flicked his blonde hair out of his eyes in a nervous tic.
“You know that Miss Carrera predicted your arrival, but we find introductions to still be productive. I’m Charles Xavier.”
“Lightning McQueen.”
The Professor nodded. “Tell me Lightning, what brings you to my school?”
Lightning eyed the Professor, the world’s most powerful telepath, like he was watching for a magic trick or a flourishing reveal in which Professor X would name his purpose here, his birthday, what he’d had for lunch yesterday and maybe even throw in that he was thinking of the five of hearts.
“I… kinda need help?”
Lightning winced, but the Professor just regarded him with patience and compassion.
“Yeah. So, I guess I’m like, a hot commodity? Because the uh, the ‘Brotherhood’ has invited me to join their club,” Lightning snorted derisively.
Then suddenly his eyes went wide. “Not that I’m interested!” he rushed to reassure the Professor.
“I did not assume that for a moment,” the Professor replied kindly.
“K. And to be honest, normally I’d just give all this stuff a wide berth, you know?” Lightning motored on. “Or maybe you don’t…”
Professor X was waist-deep in this stuff. It would never have occurred to him to run away from rebel factions of mutants.
“But ah… the thing is, they’ve been pretty persistent. In finding me and trying to… convince me.”
Lightning was downplaying things. The Brotherhood were getting increasingly bold and after multiple rejections, outright threatening. He could outrun them, but they’d find him. They’d tracked him to different cities and apartments. That morning two of their charming mutant recruiters had cornered him in an alley in New York City, where he’d hoped to blend in with the stifling crowds. One had managed to grab his arm forcefully before he could rapidly slap, push and kick his way free. His arm still ached.
He didn’t want to know what happened next, how they might send someone especially adept at fighting lanky speedsters into submission.
“I figured there was not much use in calling the cops, so…” he trailed off awkwardly.
“You’ve come to the right place my boy, they will not pursue you here. You’re welcome to stay.”
“Oh.” Lightning blinked. That was easy. “Thank you.”
“We’ll get you a room, but first I’m going to suggest you visit our resident Doctor, Dr. Hudson.”
“Why?” Was there some kind of examination of powers, being fitted with a tracking device, something that would make sure he wasn’t a threat?
“Because you have a spiral fracture in your left forearm.”
Lightning looked down, where his arm was still throbbing dully. “Oh, that makes sense, yeah.”
“And beyond that Lightning, you are not well.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but a look from the Professor silenced him, like a child.
“I have seen many mutants hunted. It takes its toll, even if you can outrun them. The good doctor will see to it that you recover.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Mater, come in.”
“Howdy Professor. You must be Lightnin’, real pleased to meet ya!” A man, early 20s with a messy mop of rust-coloured hair and large font teeth was beaming at him, and enthusiastically shook his right hand.
“I reckon we’re gonna be real good friends. The Professor says I gotta take ya down to see the Doc first, but I’ll show you ‘round tomorrow if ya like.”
Lightning once again felt like he’d fallen two steps behind everyone else. The twinkle in the Professor’s eye suggested he knew how irritating Lightning found that.
“C’mon, the Doc don’t like people bein’ late. I’ll give ya the fast version of the tour on the way!”
Mater’s mutation might very well be superhuman enthusiasm, or maybe he was a puppy that could shapeshift into a person. Everyone they saw greeted him warmly, and every room they passed had a funny story Mater had to share, until they were crossing over each other, unfinished. There was little need for Lightning to do anything but smile and nod.
“Ok, here ya are. Doc’s through there. He’s a bit gruff our Doc, doesn’t have my natural charm and talkability,” Mater grinned jovially. “But he’ll take good care of ya. I’ll be back to get ya soon.”
Mater gave him a friendly elbow bump and walked away whistling, leaving Lightning to knock on the wooden door.
“You’re late.”
The door opened to a man, maybe 50 years old. He had a thick head of grey hair flecked with black, and a moustache of matching lushness. He was handsome in an ‘old movie star’ kind of way, intense eyes and broad shoulders.
“I didn’t know we had an appointment,” Lightning said wryly. He really needed to get his feet back under him – this place was weird, but Lightning was quick to adapt dammit.
The doctor harrumphed and walked back into what was apparently a fully-equipped examination room. He pointed for Lightning to sit on the edge of the paper-covered exam table.
This felt familiar – not the exam room, but having someone exasperated with him. After running fast, that was probably his specialty. And having the attention of a handsome, albeit intimidating man, brought out his inner ‘elementary school boy’ and so he turned on the flirting.
“Clothes on or off, Dr Hudson?” Lightning asked with a cheeky grin.
The doctor looked up at him over his half-moon spectacles, loudly projecting how unimpressed he was.
“Unless you got somethin’ medical goin’ on under your jeans, I don’t need to see that.”
Lightning jumped up on the table, letting his legs swing.
“You on any medications or have any pre-existing conditions I should know about?” The doctor asked gruffly, scribbling on a metal clipboard.
“Nope,” Lightning said, letting the ‘p’ pop.
“No allergies?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Alright. Show me that arm.” The doctor dotted something on his paper with a ‘click’ and put the chart down, reaching for Lightning’s arm.
“How does everyone know about that?” Lightning asked incredulously.
The doctor’s hands were warm and gentle as they guided Lightning’s arm up by his elbow, in contrast to his bedside manner. He pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, and Lightning could see the flesh of his forearm was a little pink but otherwise un-mangled.
Dr Hudson ran one hand lightly over his skin. Lightning could feel a soothing heat as the palm passed over him, and he shivered.
He felt a strange sensation, almost an itch down his arm and then- nothing. No throb, no discomfort, no heavy feeling that warned him not to stretch or bear weight with that arm.
“Wha- did you just fix my arm?” His eyes shot up to the doctor’s. “That’s unbelievable!”
“Believe it kid.” Dr Hudson let go of his arm, stepping away to grab his clipboard again.
“That’s your mutation? It’s wicked. What else can you do with it?” Lightning asked eagerly.
“I can tell that you’re not gettin’ enough Vitamin C, so have an orange every other day,” he grunted, scribbling once more.
“… cool,” he replied sardonically. Not how Lightning would be flexing a mutation like that.
As the doctor’s eyes stayed fixed on his clipboard – what, was he writing a novel? – Lightning twitched with the desire to have his full attention.
“Your mutation?” the doctor asked.
Lightning puffed up proudly. “I’m fast. Faster than a speeding bullet.”
With the anti-mutant sentiment that simmered in much of the country, he rarely got to boast about his gifts, without being called a freak straight after. Maybe this would make the man look up at him, and say something that wasn’t about his fruit and vegetable consumption.
“Mmm.” But the doctor didn’t seem impressed, he just made more notes, not looking at Lightning.
“And you haven’t been sleepin’?”
Lightning frowned, but didn’t ask how he knew that. He thought that between the doctor, the Professor and the psychic, there were very few secrets around here.
“Do I look that bad?” he joked instead.
Finally, the man fixed him with a penetrating gaze. Lightning’s next flirtatious comment died on his tongue as he got caught up in the dark depths of the man’s eyes, feeling even more x-rayed than with his unprompted diagnoses. His mouth suddenly felt dry, and his tongue flicked out to wet his lips.
The doctor’s eyes darted for the briefest second to the movement, before dropping back to that God-forsaken clipboard. But it was enough for Lightning to breathe again, the start of a grin on his lips at the idea that maybe the good doctor wasn’t all clinical detachment after all.
“I’m prescribin’ rest. If you’re still havin’ trouble sleepin’ after a couple of days, come see me and we’ll talk about other options. You got anythin’ else you want to talk about?”
Lightning smiled wider. “Nothing medical. But you still haven’t properly introduced yourself, or don’t they cover that part at Mutant Medical school?”
The doctor sighed. “People here call me Doc.”
“’Doc’. Creative bunch aren’t you, ‘Doc’, ‘the Professor’…”
“Look kid, you can form a marketin’ department if it gets your goat that bad. But once you’re done bein’ clever, I’d like to run a few tests to check out your mutation. How’s that?”
Lightning was already grinning at the sarcasm dripping from his words. “I don’t know, is it Doctor’s orders?”
“No.”
He was surprised by how firm it came out.
“We don’t force tests on anyone. Enough mutants have testin’ and experiment trauma, I ain’t gonna be addin’ to it. So, if you don’t mind it, show up. If you do, don’t. But we’re not gonna force you into anythin’,” Doc said decisively.
“Ok,” Lightning murmured, disarmed by the novelty of the well-being of mutants being prioritised. “Um, I don’t mind though. You can run your tests.”
Doc nodded. “Ok then. Mater should be loiterin’ outside to take you up to your room.”
“You can’t take me?” Lightning asked, tilting his head teasingly. That got Doc to look up from his damn notes again.
“You can save your flirtin’ for someone who’s not twice your age, kid.”
Lightning smirked, slowly pushing off the table, arching his back as he went. That was definitely not a ‘leave me alone’ message. In fact, it was practically a challenge. And it revealed that he wasn’t ribbing a straight man. At least, he assumed – straight men didn’t cite age as the reason a dude should quit flirting with them.
Flirting was only one tool in Lightning’s arsenal to stir up the people around him, but it was the most fun. If Doc had been unresponsive, or uncomfortable, he might have had to switch tracks and figure out another way to get the man’s attention. Which was mandatory, because there was no way a clipboard with a bunch of dull notes were going to outshine Lightning McQueen.
“Catch you later, Doc.”
Lightning walked backwards a couple of steps to hold Doc’s gaze with a dimpled grin. He spun to face the door, smiling wider as Doc realised that it wasn’t a staring contest, but Lightning making sure Doc was watching his behind sashay out the door, with a little extra swing in his step.