Title: To Be Announced
Disclaimer: Short and sweet shall we? NOT MINE! NOTHING'S MINE!
Author's Note: Uh, hi. This is my first ever fanfic. Ever! And, I assume you're about to read it. Good luck! Now, since this is my first posting, your replies are going to make or break this story. I'm a sensitive little thing. And I'm not going to keep posting if you guys don't like it. So be nice! But constructive criticism is a good thing. Oh, and I don't actually know how long it takes for a body to dissolve... I'm not that morbid! Now, are you really still reading this? The story is down there!
Takes place after X2 (just so you know). Not because I didn't like X3 but because I started writing this (you guessed it) after X2.
It takes a body about 6 months to decompose when exposed to a large amount of unsalted water. Even then, it takes several more years for the bones to dissolve. They should have found something. As it was, they found no physical evidence that they'd ever been there. They being the X-men, and there being Alkali Lake.
Charles Xavier, a dignified bald man of 56, carefully picked his way along the rock and debris-strewn shore of the lake. He looked across the lake to his former students. Storm, a white-haired mocha beauty of 27, stood before a bulky machine but was speaking to Scott, another one of his ex-students, distractedly. Scott scribbled something on a notepad and consulted a chart that was taped to the side of the jet. Not far away, Logan, the newest edition to the team, crouched at the lake shoreline, one hand trailing in the murky water.
"Scott, I've scanned the water three times!" Storm said in exasperation. "There's nothing here; we would've found it by now." Scott looked at her derisively and shook his head.
"Scan it again, 'Ro," he snapped. "She's down there. She must be." Storm sighed and began the program again. "Where are those water samples?" he called into the jet. Logan rose suddenly.
"Oh, here," he said, digging a crumpled computer print out from the back pocket of his jeans. "All negative," he said as Scott looked at the complex chart on the jet again, comparing numbers and patterns.
"Impossible," he muttered. Then looking back up at Logan he said, "Run them again," and shoved the paper back.
"No," Logan answered simply with a frown. Scott glared at him behind his glasses. Sensing his aggravation, Logan explained defiantly. "I already did."
"Run them again," Scott growled. "You're still new at this. You must've messed something up." Logan stayed where he was, glaring at Scott with annoyance. After a moment, Scott said, "Fine. I'll do it myself," and snatched the paper from Logan before storming toward the jet's door. Logan followed quickly, itching for a fight.
"I've checked those 10 times! I ran them through the computer and had 'Ro triple check 'em. I even made Chuck look at 'em! You're not going to find anything we haven't already," he said, grabbing Scott's wrist to turn him around. At the contact, Scott whirled around and forcefully pushed Logan away. Logan backpedaled in an attempt to regain his balance, tripped on a table leg, and fell with a splash into the icy lake water. He sat there, his hands, feet, and butt submerged in the filth as disturbed silt surrounded him in a black cloud.
His face showed no emotion as he, seemingly, calmly picked himself up and stepped back onto the dry bank. Wordlessly, Logan stepped around the now-fallen table that had tripped him; the only sound was that of the gravel crunching beneath his soggy boots. His claws slowly, silently slipped from their hiding place in his arms and waited, fully extended and deadly, ready for their task. Logan's mask of serenity flickered, a hint of his hidden anger fleetingly sliding across his face. Scott's eyes widened, and he took an involuntary step backwards at seeing the raw rage directed at him. He was flush against the jet's side, its coolness seeping through the fabric of his shirt to his back. The feeling of being trapped urged forth an action, and, steeling his resolve, Scott raised a hand to his eyes, ready to attack. Logan sprang, fluidly stretching in the air, languidly aiming for Scott's throat with unerring primal accuracy. Scott fired; the burst of raw red energy flowing from his eyes cut through the air like lightning. Just before the impact, Logan's body went flying backward 100 yards out over the lake, always staying mere centimeters from the searing blast of energy. With chilling finality, he unceremoniously crashed into the murky depths. Then energy flashed overhead, blurry and distorted from his position below the surface. Though Logan was underwater, he felt neither cold nor wet. He did feel his body being sucked down toward the lake floor at an alarming rate. Then, he panicked and began fighting the pull, his arms and legs flailing helplessly. For the second time in his remembered life, Logan was scared.
Logan gasped for air, but got mouthfuls of cold, dirty water instead. That did nothing for his panicked mind, causing him to struggle for the surface more desperately. A sharp pain resounded through his skull, and he saw blood snaking its way through the water in front of him just before he blacked out. The suction stopped abruptly, and the force pushed him to the surface, letting him bob there like a ragdoll.
"Logan! Scott! Hey!" Storm shouted as she ran toward the impending fight. She saw Logan spring and Scott shoot. "Scott!" she screamed with disbelief. She skidded to a stop beside him as he slammed his eyes shut, dust and dirt flying around her legs as she slid down the bank's slope. "What did you do?" she asked with awe as the beam of light skimmed across the entire lake and crashed into a clump of trees on the other side, causing a large rock slide into the lake.
Ororo called up a strong gust of wind to carry her over the lake and took to the sky. She traced the foamy ripples as they radiated from the lake's center, where Logan had landed. The water was calming, the waves slowly diminishing into nothingness. She flew closer to the water, examining its surface for any sign of Logan. On her third circle around the lake, his head popped above the surface. She quickly glided over and fished him from the freezing waters. She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and the other around his middle as she rose higher into the air. Her eyes clouded over as she pulled warm air from the sky and used it to dry Logan's frost encrusted body. By the times the duo reached the shore, he was beginning to wake up.
Logan groaned softly as Ororo sat him in one of the folding chairs that was set up. He looked at her hazily before coughing up several mouthfuls of lake water. Xavier was sitting beside him, tension seeping from every pore of his body. Charles looked at Logan, his face a mask of concern and disappointment.
"Are you all right?" he asked tersely. Logan nodded and instantly wished he hadn't. Noticing his discomfort, Ororo placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"I'll get you some ice," she said softly. He tried to offer her a grateful smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. Xavier turned toward the jet where Scott was standing with his hands on his head, waiting for his lecture.
"Since there seems to be no crisis here, perhaps you won't mind my leaving?" he asked Logan, who nodded almost imperceptibly. As Charles left, Storm returned with one of the jet's emergency ice packs. "Oh, and Ororo?" Xavier called over his shoulder stiffly. "I need you to prep the jet when you finish tending to Logan. We're going home."
"Scott, pack the lab equipment. We're returning to the mansion," Xavier said as he maneuvered his way along the gravel shore.
"What? Professor, you can't –" Scott began in protest, following Xavier inside the jet. Xavier turned sharply.
"I can and I am! The behavior this trip has brought out in you is unacceptable. I don't know what happened out there, but I've no doubt it was petty and ridiculous. Now, get your things and get ready to leave," he said.
"But we're so close," Scott tried to desperately reason.
"I've made my decision," Xavier said. Scott nodded and turned back to the lake. Maybe they were right. Maybe they couldn't find anything because there was nothing to find. He sighed and began packing the machines. He'd almost killed Logan for it. For nothing. Scott paused and looked to where Storm and Logan were sitting. Logan struggled to get up, shakily rising from the beach chair. Storm was at his side in a second to support some of his weight. Together, they began shuffling to the jet. To Scott. Scott wasn't ready to face them, either of them. Storm looked at Scott neutrally as they passed but didn't say a word. Scott sighed again; it was going to be a long flight home.
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