(Forgot this the first time.)
a/n- Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Marvel characters (I'm just going to have my way with them) the only characters that are mine are Kiana and Mykal Thorn. This disclaimer will only be appearing ahead of chapter one and should be considered binding for the rest of the chapters (unless I get real creative and introduce another original character). Thank you and have a day.
Alkali Lake- Canada
Scott stood on what was now the edge of the larger Alkali Lake. It had only been a couple weeks since Jean's sacrifice, and his heart was still bleeding. Through ruby lenses he stared at the slowly moving waters. It was almost as if he was trying to spot the exact location Jean had stood.
Scott wasn't sure why he had felt the need to return to this place. In many ways he was still having trouble believing that Jean could be gone. He expected that she would just walk through the door at any time having miraculously survived. The other X-Men probably thought he was losing his mind, and maybe he was. A single tear trickled down his cheek and he brushed it away absently. Somehow he would have to learn to accept that Jean was dead, that she wasn't ever going to just walk through the door and reappear in his life. Maybe that was why he needed to come here, to see, to be able to say goodbye.
He wasn't sure how long he had stood there when he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him. Quickly he moved under the cover of one of the large pine trees, hoping that he hadn't been spotted.
"Aww damn." a voice drawled, the person coming into sight.
There were two of them; both dressed for the cold, one carrying a rather large duffel bag. They had the look of criminals who had once been military. Scott was furious that the two of them had interrupted his solitude, his memorial of sorts. His lip curled in a silent snarl, a hand moving up to adjust his visor for a killing blast, and he waited.
"What happened here?" The second was saying, staring slack jawed at the water. He didn't seem too bright.
"Guess the dam broke or somethin'." Apparently the first speaker was lacking in the brains department as well.
"Well what we supposed ta do with the package." The man carrying the duffle bag hefted it up slightly, "Boss didn't give us a diffrunt drop off."
Scott couldn't remember ever feeling this angry before; he wanted to blast these men into tiny pieces. He stepped from the shadows, his movement catching the attention of both men. Before they had a chance to do anything Scott shot three blasts from his eyes. The first hit the straps of the duffel bag, knocking it to the ground. The second and third hit each of the men, burning holes right through them. Both dropped to the ground with similar looks of astonishment on their faces.
He just stared at their bodies, a feeling of revulsion over taking him. What had he done? He frequently complained about Wolverine because of his brutal methods, but now look at what he had done. Nausea overcame him and he stumbled a few steps away before vomiting up the last meal he had eaten. His mind was whirling, those two men worked for the man that was the direct cause of Jean's death. If it hadn't been for Stryker Jean would still be alive, would still be with him. At the same time, remembering Jean, remembering her love and compassion made him sick to the soul. She wouldn't have been proud of what he had just done; she wouldn't have wanted him to lose himself to rage like that.
Scott moved away a bit and just knelt in the snow, tears coursing down his cheeks. A movement from the bag got his attention. Kneeling down quickly he unzipped it. What he saw inside caused him to start suddenly and fall back into the snow.
From inside the bag a small face with pale green eyes under light brown curls stared up at him. Scott sat back up, looking again. The little girl couldn't have been more than 4 or 5. Her face was pale, drawn with fear. She was curled up in the bag and Scott could tell that her wrists were bound behind her back and her ankles had been tied too. Interestingly enough her mouth was uncovered.
He tried to smile reassuringly, "I'm going to help you out. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."
She didn't look convinced, but she also didn't utter a sound as he helped her from the bag. He turned her around, the little girl was incredibly light, and two quick, careful, blasts from his visor freed her from the ropes. She stared at him; confusion now shaping her face instead of fear, her hands rubbing over rope burned wrists. Then she saw the two men lying on the ground and her eyes widened in shock and horror. She looked back at Scott and moved a few steps away from him, as if trying to figure out which way to run.
Scott sat back from her, holding his hands up, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
She bit her lower lip and those pale green eyes were boring into him. Scott had the feeling that she was reading his very soul. For a wild moment he prayed that she would not find him wanting. Grief began to overtake him again, and he covered his face with his hands.
"I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry." His voice was gruff, and his shoulders began to shake.
A moment later he felt a light touch on the back of his hand. He looked up to see the little girl staring at him again, her expression more curious than anything with her head tilted to one side.
"I'm sorry." He managed.
To his surprise the little girl smiled to him slightly and with one hand lightly brushed away the tear tracks on one cheek. She nodded slightly, as if in understanding. Scott smiled back to the little one.
Scott smiled again, "You're very brave not to scream."
The little girl actually smiled slightly ruefully. Then she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Scott was prepared to cover his ears, but no sound came out from her open mouth. She shrugged slightly and shook her head.
Scott frowned, "You can't talk?"
The little girl shook her head and shrugged again. Fear and confusion left her pretty little face and she smiled at him. Scott smiled back and looked her over more carefully. She was wearing a long-sleeved dirty blue t-shirt and denim overalls. One foot had only a sock on, the other a tennis shoe and sock. She looked down at her feet as though just feeling the snow seeping through her sock and turned her back on Scott to rummage through the bag. She smiled triumphantly holding up her other tennis shoe. Scott was still kneeling by her so she used his shoulder to balance herself as she put her shoe on. It was untied and she looked at Scott expectantly.
It took him a moment but he realized what she wanted and awkwardly tied her shoe. She smiled at him again and then looked around, frowning.
"Do you know where you are?" He asked. His mind now working again and he began to wonder what Stryker had wanted with this child.
She looked back at him and shook her head.
"Do you have a family somewhere? Do you know where they are?"
Her lower lip began to tremble as she nodded in answer to the first question and shook her head to the second. Scott knew what he had to do. He obviously couldn't leave this little girl here all by herself, and since the Professor was a telepath he could find her family.
"I want to bring you with me. I'm going to take you to someone who can find your family for you. Okay?"
She seemed to consider for a moment, looked around then back to Scott, and nodded. Scott stood up and she trustingly reached out and took his hand. He looked down, startled and she smiled as though to reassure him that everything was going to be all right. Scott was beyond surprised by this whole thing and merely turned and led her back to the SUV he had driven here.
After a few moments of walking it occurred to him that the poor little girl was probably freezing. Sure enough, when he looked down she was shivering. He stopped and she turned her face up to look at him.
"I can tell you're freezing," He was awkward, not knowing how to speak to this silent child, "and I don't have anything to give you to wear, but if I carry you I can wrap my jacket around both of us. Would that be okay?"
Again there was that considering pause. Then she nodded and raised her arms up. Scott smiled a little and unzipped his jacket so that when he picked her up she would be wrapped in it as well. She cuddled up against him, seeming to have every confidence that Scott was a 'good guy' and that he would do nothing to harm her. Scott's breath caught in his throat, in his mind's eye had had always pictured the children he and Jean would have. This little girl so trustingly resting in his arms could have been their child.
He took a slow deep breath and focused on walking. He was not going to cry again. The thought of children they would never have re-opened wounds that hadn't fully closed in the first place. The little girl again surprised him, she lifted a hand and gently caressed his cheek and then rested her chilled cheek against his. Somehow Scott began to feel a little better. He just didn't know why.
The ride back to the Mansion was fairly long, and eerily quiet. The little girl slept on and off, but mostly stared out the window. It was clear from her lack of expression that nothing was registering as familiar. Scott wished that he knew her name, he felt funny not having anything to call her. Especially since most of the people that he was around these days had multiple names. He had placed a cell phone call to the Professor, letting him know the situation. He had hoped that someone could come and get them in the Blackbird. Unfortunately for them Storm and Wolverine had just left for Louisiana to pick up a mutant who was both in trouble and causing it. Their only choice was to make the long drive back.
Part II
The mutant known as Logan, codename Wolverine, settled himself uneasily in his seat on the Blackbird. He and Storm had been successful in their mission to pick up a mutant known as Gambit, but he wasn't sure bringing him to the mansion was the best idea. The kid was a thief, and a good one at that. Wolverine didn't trust him a bit, and the fact that he couldn't stop hitting on Storm wasn't helping either.
He leaned back, deciding that Storm was handling the boy just fine. Sleep claimed him. Soon he found himself in a familiar nightmare that he never remembered upon waking. He was being walked down one of the corridors at the Alkali Lake facility. The nightmare took a twist in that this time he saw an open door. Looking into it he saw a small child strapped to a chair. The little girl had brown curls and as if realizing that he was there she looked up. Pale gray eyes stared at him. He could smell her fear and anger. He just couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't make this dream body behave the way he wanted it to.
In the background there was conversation. Something about emotional trauma bringing mutations to the fore. Apparently that was what they planned to do to this child, to traumatize her to see what sort of mutations developed. There was something about her scent that nagged at the seemingly drugged Logan. Someone stepped into his line of sight and he couldn't see what they did, but the little girl screamed. Now he did try to rush forward, to do something, but his guards, all six of them, managed to stop him.
He woke up, thrashing slightly, his claws extended. Gambit was watching him; those devil eyes of his betraying nothing. Storm couldn't move herself away from the controls, but her face was worried.
"Wolverine?" She preferred to use only his codename on missions.
He growled slightly, retracting his claws, "I'm alright."
She nodded, not believing him, but also knowing pressing him on the issue would get her no where.
"Mon ami is fighting spirits me t'ink." Gambit spoke casually.
Logan growled softly again, wanting to show this swamp rat just what his claws could do. The image of the young girl floated in his mind. As usual the details of the nightmare was gone, so he couldn't remember the significance of the girl. He examined her image over and over, memorizing her light brown curls, the extreme pale gray of her eyes- eyes that looked almost feral. The thought running through his mind was 'who was she and why was she important?'
a/n- Unfortunately, I do not own any of the Marvel characters (I'm just going to have my way with them) the only characters that are mine are Kiana and Mykal Thorn. This disclaimer will only be appearing ahead of chapter one and should be considered binding for the rest of the chapters (unless I get real creative and introduce another original character). Thank you and have a day.
Alkali Lake- Canada
Scott stood on what was now the edge of the larger Alkali Lake. It had only been a couple weeks since Jean's sacrifice, and his heart was still bleeding. Through ruby lenses he stared at the slowly moving waters. It was almost as if he was trying to spot the exact location Jean had stood.
Scott wasn't sure why he had felt the need to return to this place. In many ways he was still having trouble believing that Jean could be gone. He expected that she would just walk through the door at any time having miraculously survived. The other X-Men probably thought he was losing his mind, and maybe he was. A single tear trickled down his cheek and he brushed it away absently. Somehow he would have to learn to accept that Jean was dead, that she wasn't ever going to just walk through the door and reappear in his life. Maybe that was why he needed to come here, to see, to be able to say goodbye.
He wasn't sure how long he had stood there when he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him. Quickly he moved under the cover of one of the large pine trees, hoping that he hadn't been spotted.
"Aww damn." a voice drawled, the person coming into sight.
There were two of them; both dressed for the cold, one carrying a rather large duffel bag. They had the look of criminals who had once been military. Scott was furious that the two of them had interrupted his solitude, his memorial of sorts. His lip curled in a silent snarl, a hand moving up to adjust his visor for a killing blast, and he waited.
"What happened here?" The second was saying, staring slack jawed at the water. He didn't seem too bright.
"Guess the dam broke or somethin'." Apparently the first speaker was lacking in the brains department as well.
"Well what we supposed ta do with the package." The man carrying the duffle bag hefted it up slightly, "Boss didn't give us a diffrunt drop off."
Scott couldn't remember ever feeling this angry before; he wanted to blast these men into tiny pieces. He stepped from the shadows, his movement catching the attention of both men. Before they had a chance to do anything Scott shot three blasts from his eyes. The first hit the straps of the duffel bag, knocking it to the ground. The second and third hit each of the men, burning holes right through them. Both dropped to the ground with similar looks of astonishment on their faces.
He just stared at their bodies, a feeling of revulsion over taking him. What had he done? He frequently complained about Wolverine because of his brutal methods, but now look at what he had done. Nausea overcame him and he stumbled a few steps away before vomiting up the last meal he had eaten. His mind was whirling, those two men worked for the man that was the direct cause of Jean's death. If it hadn't been for Stryker Jean would still be alive, would still be with him. At the same time, remembering Jean, remembering her love and compassion made him sick to the soul. She wouldn't have been proud of what he had just done; she wouldn't have wanted him to lose himself to rage like that.
Scott moved away a bit and just knelt in the snow, tears coursing down his cheeks. A movement from the bag got his attention. Kneeling down quickly he unzipped it. What he saw inside caused him to start suddenly and fall back into the snow.
From inside the bag a small face with pale green eyes under light brown curls stared up at him. Scott sat back up, looking again. The little girl couldn't have been more than 4 or 5. Her face was pale, drawn with fear. She was curled up in the bag and Scott could tell that her wrists were bound behind her back and her ankles had been tied too. Interestingly enough her mouth was uncovered.
He tried to smile reassuringly, "I'm going to help you out. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."
She didn't look convinced, but she also didn't utter a sound as he helped her from the bag. He turned her around, the little girl was incredibly light, and two quick, careful, blasts from his visor freed her from the ropes. She stared at him; confusion now shaping her face instead of fear, her hands rubbing over rope burned wrists. Then she saw the two men lying on the ground and her eyes widened in shock and horror. She looked back at Scott and moved a few steps away from him, as if trying to figure out which way to run.
Scott sat back from her, holding his hands up, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."
She bit her lower lip and those pale green eyes were boring into him. Scott had the feeling that she was reading his very soul. For a wild moment he prayed that she would not find him wanting. Grief began to overtake him again, and he covered his face with his hands.
"I'm so sorry, oh God, I'm so sorry." His voice was gruff, and his shoulders began to shake.
A moment later he felt a light touch on the back of his hand. He looked up to see the little girl staring at him again, her expression more curious than anything with her head tilted to one side.
"I'm sorry." He managed.
To his surprise the little girl smiled to him slightly and with one hand lightly brushed away the tear tracks on one cheek. She nodded slightly, as if in understanding. Scott smiled back to the little one.
Scott smiled again, "You're very brave not to scream."
The little girl actually smiled slightly ruefully. Then she took a deep breath and opened her mouth. Scott was prepared to cover his ears, but no sound came out from her open mouth. She shrugged slightly and shook her head.
Scott frowned, "You can't talk?"
The little girl shook her head and shrugged again. Fear and confusion left her pretty little face and she smiled at him. Scott smiled back and looked her over more carefully. She was wearing a long-sleeved dirty blue t-shirt and denim overalls. One foot had only a sock on, the other a tennis shoe and sock. She looked down at her feet as though just feeling the snow seeping through her sock and turned her back on Scott to rummage through the bag. She smiled triumphantly holding up her other tennis shoe. Scott was still kneeling by her so she used his shoulder to balance herself as she put her shoe on. It was untied and she looked at Scott expectantly.
It took him a moment but he realized what she wanted and awkwardly tied her shoe. She smiled at him again and then looked around, frowning.
"Do you know where you are?" He asked. His mind now working again and he began to wonder what Stryker had wanted with this child.
She looked back at him and shook her head.
"Do you have a family somewhere? Do you know where they are?"
Her lower lip began to tremble as she nodded in answer to the first question and shook her head to the second. Scott knew what he had to do. He obviously couldn't leave this little girl here all by herself, and since the Professor was a telepath he could find her family.
"I want to bring you with me. I'm going to take you to someone who can find your family for you. Okay?"
She seemed to consider for a moment, looked around then back to Scott, and nodded. Scott stood up and she trustingly reached out and took his hand. He looked down, startled and she smiled as though to reassure him that everything was going to be all right. Scott was beyond surprised by this whole thing and merely turned and led her back to the SUV he had driven here.
After a few moments of walking it occurred to him that the poor little girl was probably freezing. Sure enough, when he looked down she was shivering. He stopped and she turned her face up to look at him.
"I can tell you're freezing," He was awkward, not knowing how to speak to this silent child, "and I don't have anything to give you to wear, but if I carry you I can wrap my jacket around both of us. Would that be okay?"
Again there was that considering pause. Then she nodded and raised her arms up. Scott smiled a little and unzipped his jacket so that when he picked her up she would be wrapped in it as well. She cuddled up against him, seeming to have every confidence that Scott was a 'good guy' and that he would do nothing to harm her. Scott's breath caught in his throat, in his mind's eye had had always pictured the children he and Jean would have. This little girl so trustingly resting in his arms could have been their child.
He took a slow deep breath and focused on walking. He was not going to cry again. The thought of children they would never have re-opened wounds that hadn't fully closed in the first place. The little girl again surprised him, she lifted a hand and gently caressed his cheek and then rested her chilled cheek against his. Somehow Scott began to feel a little better. He just didn't know why.
The ride back to the Mansion was fairly long, and eerily quiet. The little girl slept on and off, but mostly stared out the window. It was clear from her lack of expression that nothing was registering as familiar. Scott wished that he knew her name, he felt funny not having anything to call her. Especially since most of the people that he was around these days had multiple names. He had placed a cell phone call to the Professor, letting him know the situation. He had hoped that someone could come and get them in the Blackbird. Unfortunately for them Storm and Wolverine had just left for Louisiana to pick up a mutant who was both in trouble and causing it. Their only choice was to make the long drive back.
Part II
The mutant known as Logan, codename Wolverine, settled himself uneasily in his seat on the Blackbird. He and Storm had been successful in their mission to pick up a mutant known as Gambit, but he wasn't sure bringing him to the mansion was the best idea. The kid was a thief, and a good one at that. Wolverine didn't trust him a bit, and the fact that he couldn't stop hitting on Storm wasn't helping either.
He leaned back, deciding that Storm was handling the boy just fine. Sleep claimed him. Soon he found himself in a familiar nightmare that he never remembered upon waking. He was being walked down one of the corridors at the Alkali Lake facility. The nightmare took a twist in that this time he saw an open door. Looking into it he saw a small child strapped to a chair. The little girl had brown curls and as if realizing that he was there she looked up. Pale gray eyes stared at him. He could smell her fear and anger. He just couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't make this dream body behave the way he wanted it to.
In the background there was conversation. Something about emotional trauma bringing mutations to the fore. Apparently that was what they planned to do to this child, to traumatize her to see what sort of mutations developed. There was something about her scent that nagged at the seemingly drugged Logan. Someone stepped into his line of sight and he couldn't see what they did, but the little girl screamed. Now he did try to rush forward, to do something, but his guards, all six of them, managed to stop him.
He woke up, thrashing slightly, his claws extended. Gambit was watching him; those devil eyes of his betraying nothing. Storm couldn't move herself away from the controls, but her face was worried.
"Wolverine?" She preferred to use only his codename on missions.
He growled slightly, retracting his claws, "I'm alright."
She nodded, not believing him, but also knowing pressing him on the issue would get her no where.
"Mon ami is fighting spirits me t'ink." Gambit spoke casually.
Logan growled softly again, wanting to show this swamp rat just what his claws could do. The image of the young girl floated in his mind. As usual the details of the nightmare was gone, so he couldn't remember the significance of the girl. He examined her image over and over, memorizing her light brown curls, the extreme pale gray of her eyes- eyes that looked almost feral. The thought running through his mind was 'who was she and why was she important?'