Going Back to Westchester
by elixabitzi
Disclaimer: I don't own the x-men, the mansion, or the beer…the only thing that's mine
is Liara.
Summary: Um, read it…I don't wanna scare ya away with my terrible summary. The
rating is for future sex, violence, language, etc. And a buncha liquor references
now…Ok, R&R, enjoy!
It was still a little dark outside when the taxi pulled up to the mansion, barely
stopping to let its single passenger slip out into the chilly morning air. After collecting
his money, the driver sped off, eager to be out of the shadow of the looming brick
building; like most of the people in Salem Center he turned a deaf ear to the rumors about
Xavier's Institute, but that didn't mean he wanted any part in anything that went on there.
Left alone, the young woman who had emerged from the cab removed a pair of black sunglasses from her unnaturally green eyes, and stared up at the building
expressionlessly. After a long while, she absently brought a hand up to trace the raised
lettering on the sign, and a slight shadow of emotion crossed her somber face.
Taking a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself to go on, she went to the
keypad on the gate and entered her long unused code. The mechanism opened to allow
her in, and closed swiftly behind her, almost as if it was swallowing her up. Ignoring the
slight claustrophobia of the grounds, she strode up the steps purposefully, until she stood
facing the door, eye to eye with the fearsomely hideous brass knocker. Her fingers were
a step ahead of her, already typing the code into the electronic pad by the intercom. As
foreign as the mansion seemed to her now, it didn't occur to her to knock. She had been
promised that she would always have a place here, and despite all the events that had
alienated her from it, the mansion was still the closest thing she had to a home.
A mechanical voice chirped from the speaker, "Vocal clarification?"
Absentmindedly putting on the sunglasses, she leaned forward and spoke a name
that she had abandoned so long ago it seemed like a dirty secret parting from her tongue.
"Liara Ashcroft."
"Welcome to the X-mansion, Liara," the computer recited cheerfully. At the
same instant, the door sprang open with a click.
A feeling sprang up inside her as her hand grazed the doorknob. It had been so
long since she had felt anything at all that it took her a second to recognize the emotion
that made her palms begin to sweat and sent a tiny tremor down the back of her neck.
She finally placed it: fear, mingled with anticipation. She treasured the flash of emotion,
even as it faded into the void of nothingness that occupied too much of her mind.
Meanwhile, the door had swung aside, revealing the dark interior of the mansion.
Liara stepped inside, her black boots falling soundlessly on the carpet. She
exhaled harshly, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd drawn. The polished
antique bench by the door was exactly as it had been, and the sundry collection of coats
and umbrellas on the rack was hauntingly unchanged. It was all nearly the same as it had
been when she'd left; as if she had stepped back seven years and slid into her old life.
Perhaps, she thought, they would not even notice she had been gone.
The click of the door echoed loudly in the empty hall, startling Liara from her
reverie. Pushing aside the waves of memory that had flooded into her head, she used her
powers to do a cursory mental scan of the mansion. Not surprisingly, she was one of the
only ones awake at this time of day; not even Xavier was up at four thirty in the morning.
Suddenly realizing how long it had been since she'd last eaten, Liara decided to
head for the kitchen. She knew that between Bobby and Hank's love of junk food, and
Ororo's wholesome vegetarian tastes she was assured of finding something she liked to
eat. She also wondered idly if she would be able to find some decent beer in the staff
refrigerator; she was in need of something refreshing, and Scott's Coors Light just wasn't
going to cut it.
She found the kitchen in the same place that it had always been in, and she had to
bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the fact that this surprised her. Feeling far
more relaxed, she pushed open the kitchen door and barely had time to gasp before she
found herself restrained by an extremely strong arm clutching her neck in chokehold, and
something coldly metallic pricking into her temple.
A man's deep voice rumbled at her from the darkness behind her. "Well, now
what have we here?"
She wriggled a little, and wondered if she could somehow grab his wrist and
snatch the knife she assumed was pressed to her forehead from his hand. In response, the
grip tightened.
"Now darlin'," the voice, now tinged with amusement, warned, "I wouldn't do
that if I were you."
"Bastard," Liara muttered, believing him. His arm felt strong enough to snap her
in two, and she really wasn't up for a fight with super mutant, especially considering her
empty stomach. She considered biting the beast's arm in protest, but decided to let the
scene play out on its own. After all, she hadn't exactly called to announce her arrival,
and most of Xavier's boarders had reason to be suspicious of unknown people creeping
around the mansion at night.
"Probably," the man agreed lightly, then his tone hardened, "Now let's get down
ta business. Who the fuck are you?"
"Black Magic," She said, offering him the code name she went by these days.
She scanned his mind briefly. His barriers were too strong to allow her to hear his
thoughts, but she picked up his surface emotions: a startlingly savage mix of aggression,
animosity, and – she snorted – male appreciation. *Well, at least one of us is enjoying
himself,* she thought wryly.
"Black Magic?" He questioned, clearly disbelieving, "What are ya, some kind o'
stripper?" His body rippled with laughter against her back.
"Sorry to disappoint, but it's been a while since I've taken off my clothes for
cash," she shot back, wounded at the insult to her name. If Ororo can get away with
'Storm' I should be able to pull off Black Magic, she thought indignantly. "For now I'm
just a normal girl trying to get some breakfast."
His grip on her neck loosened a little, and his voice turned perplexed. "Are you
one of tha Cajun's broad's?"
Before she could ask who the hell the 'Cajun' was, the creaking of the kitchen
door announced the arrival of someone new. "Logan?" a sleepy feminine voice
questioned in exasperation, accompanied by the flicking on of bright overhead lights,
"What are you doing?"
"Jeannie!" The beast, who was apparently the 'Logan' in question, swiveled
slightly and loosened his hold on Liara's neck. She heard a ~snikt~ sound, and the cold
metal of the 'knife' was withdrawn.
Blinking against the sudden glare of the light, Liara made out a female silhouette
in a no-nonsense, arms crossed pose standing in the threshold. Although the voice and
the figure had changed, the stance was still extremely reminiscent of Liara's memories of
Jean Grey. *Seven years*, she marveled,* and she still hasn't lightened up!* Not that Liara
was in any position to complain if Jean could get this freak to let her go.
As her vision sharpened, Liara saw the redhead clearly, and realized she hadn't
changed all that much after all; her flawless complexion and good-girl looks still irked.
Drowsily unaware of who Logan was holding captive, Jean asked, "Who is that?"
Liara felt Logan shrug behind her. "One o' th' Cajun's females I found sneaking
around lookin' fer a midnight snack," he said, assuming. Liara raised an eyebrow at the
tone, and wondered what kind of a snack he meant exactly.
"I am not–" Liara began, only to be cut off by Jean.
"Remy is back with Rogue," Jean said, informatively.
Logan tensed. "Then who the hell is this?"
"I'm–"
Jean, who had woken up enough to scan Liara's mind, interrupted again, this time
with disbelief in her voice. "Liara? Magic, is that you?" she asked, wonderingly.
"Flamin' hell," Logan growled, confusion quickening to irritation, "Would one of
you ladies be so kind as to explain?"
Sensing that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be in one piece long enough to start
talking, Liara spoke. "I'm Black Magic. Liara Ashcroft…if you want. I used to go to
school here, until…" she hesitated, not caring to delve into the past, "until circumstances
changed. I guess you could say I've come home for a visit."
"She's telling the truth, Logan, you can release her," Jean said quietly, eyeing the
beast's arm around Liara's neck. Thus freed, Liara hurriedly moved away from her
captor. She was startled to be grabbed immediately by Jean, in what turned out to be an
embrace, not an attack. The two of them had never liked each other; at least, Liara had
never liked Jean.
"Liara," Jean said, a look of enthusiasm on her face.
"Magic," Liara corrected, seeking refuge in the comfort of her moniker. It had
been years since she had trusted anyone enough to let them call her by her real name, and
now it grated.
"Magic," Jean corrected absentmindedly, then turned to Liara in wonderment, one
hand on each of her shoulder's, as if she had to touch her to believe that she was real.
"You're back…we all thought…Magic! I have to go tell Charles!" and with that, Jean
ran out of the room, turning back only to cast a incredulous smile at Liara, before she
hurried to wake the rest of the mansion.
*They're gonna love that*, Liara thought, shivering at the idea of being woken up at five in the morning by an overenthusiastic Jean. Turning away from the door, Liara eyed
the refrigerator with glee. Her stomach growled at the mere idea of all the food behind
the gleaming door.
A snort from the other side of the room reminded her she was not alone.
"Hungry?" asked her former captor sarcastically.
She spared him a glare, taking in his physical appearance and trying her best not
to do a double take at the insolent man lounging shirtless, beer in hand, against the
counter. He was built…perfectly put together, but like a fighter, not an athlete. With a
smirk, she entertained thoughts of what he must use all those muscles for. Then she
narrowed her eyes at the beer in his left hand.
"Done lookin', darlin'?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
She didn't even bother to reply to his flippant remark. As nice as his body was, it
was a shame he had absolutely no idea of how to treat a lady. "Is that a Molson's?" She
asked, trying not to salivate.
He seemed disgruntled that she didn't bat her lashes at him and play the flirt.
*Screw you too*, Liara replied mentally, not wanting to get into it.
"Yeah," he grunted. Then a second later it seemed to occur to him that she wasn't
asking just to make small talk. "They're in the fridge."
Liara took that as an offer, and grabbed herself one, as well as a Styrofoam
container of leftover Pad Thai, from the refrigerator. Then she sat down and proceeded
to eat, taking extreme pleasure from the food. She couldn't remember the last time she
had been full.
As she ate, she felt the beast –Logan, she corrected herself– eyeing her. She
easily picked up his thoughts, as they were directed at her:
* Not a bad piece of work…not bad at all. She's a feisty bitch, though. Nice
black hair… wonder what color her eyes are behind those things…who wears sunglasses
indoors anyway? I bet I could make 'er take 'em off…and some other things too…yeah
darlin', smile away, ol' wolvie's got it in for ya' *
Liara directed a big, fake smile at him, letting him know she understood his train
of thoughts. He scowled back. It looked to be the start of a great relationship.
by elixabitzi
Disclaimer: I don't own the x-men, the mansion, or the beer…the only thing that's mine
is Liara.
Summary: Um, read it…I don't wanna scare ya away with my terrible summary. The
rating is for future sex, violence, language, etc. And a buncha liquor references
now…Ok, R&R, enjoy!
It was still a little dark outside when the taxi pulled up to the mansion, barely
stopping to let its single passenger slip out into the chilly morning air. After collecting
his money, the driver sped off, eager to be out of the shadow of the looming brick
building; like most of the people in Salem Center he turned a deaf ear to the rumors about
Xavier's Institute, but that didn't mean he wanted any part in anything that went on there.
Left alone, the young woman who had emerged from the cab removed a pair of black sunglasses from her unnaturally green eyes, and stared up at the building
expressionlessly. After a long while, she absently brought a hand up to trace the raised
lettering on the sign, and a slight shadow of emotion crossed her somber face.
Taking a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself to go on, she went to the
keypad on the gate and entered her long unused code. The mechanism opened to allow
her in, and closed swiftly behind her, almost as if it was swallowing her up. Ignoring the
slight claustrophobia of the grounds, she strode up the steps purposefully, until she stood
facing the door, eye to eye with the fearsomely hideous brass knocker. Her fingers were
a step ahead of her, already typing the code into the electronic pad by the intercom. As
foreign as the mansion seemed to her now, it didn't occur to her to knock. She had been
promised that she would always have a place here, and despite all the events that had
alienated her from it, the mansion was still the closest thing she had to a home.
A mechanical voice chirped from the speaker, "Vocal clarification?"
Absentmindedly putting on the sunglasses, she leaned forward and spoke a name
that she had abandoned so long ago it seemed like a dirty secret parting from her tongue.
"Liara Ashcroft."
"Welcome to the X-mansion, Liara," the computer recited cheerfully. At the
same instant, the door sprang open with a click.
A feeling sprang up inside her as her hand grazed the doorknob. It had been so
long since she had felt anything at all that it took her a second to recognize the emotion
that made her palms begin to sweat and sent a tiny tremor down the back of her neck.
She finally placed it: fear, mingled with anticipation. She treasured the flash of emotion,
even as it faded into the void of nothingness that occupied too much of her mind.
Meanwhile, the door had swung aside, revealing the dark interior of the mansion.
Liara stepped inside, her black boots falling soundlessly on the carpet. She
exhaled harshly, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd drawn. The polished
antique bench by the door was exactly as it had been, and the sundry collection of coats
and umbrellas on the rack was hauntingly unchanged. It was all nearly the same as it had
been when she'd left; as if she had stepped back seven years and slid into her old life.
Perhaps, she thought, they would not even notice she had been gone.
The click of the door echoed loudly in the empty hall, startling Liara from her
reverie. Pushing aside the waves of memory that had flooded into her head, she used her
powers to do a cursory mental scan of the mansion. Not surprisingly, she was one of the
only ones awake at this time of day; not even Xavier was up at four thirty in the morning.
Suddenly realizing how long it had been since she'd last eaten, Liara decided to
head for the kitchen. She knew that between Bobby and Hank's love of junk food, and
Ororo's wholesome vegetarian tastes she was assured of finding something she liked to
eat. She also wondered idly if she would be able to find some decent beer in the staff
refrigerator; she was in need of something refreshing, and Scott's Coors Light just wasn't
going to cut it.
She found the kitchen in the same place that it had always been in, and she had to
bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the fact that this surprised her. Feeling far
more relaxed, she pushed open the kitchen door and barely had time to gasp before she
found herself restrained by an extremely strong arm clutching her neck in chokehold, and
something coldly metallic pricking into her temple.
A man's deep voice rumbled at her from the darkness behind her. "Well, now
what have we here?"
She wriggled a little, and wondered if she could somehow grab his wrist and
snatch the knife she assumed was pressed to her forehead from his hand. In response, the
grip tightened.
"Now darlin'," the voice, now tinged with amusement, warned, "I wouldn't do
that if I were you."
"Bastard," Liara muttered, believing him. His arm felt strong enough to snap her
in two, and she really wasn't up for a fight with super mutant, especially considering her
empty stomach. She considered biting the beast's arm in protest, but decided to let the
scene play out on its own. After all, she hadn't exactly called to announce her arrival,
and most of Xavier's boarders had reason to be suspicious of unknown people creeping
around the mansion at night.
"Probably," the man agreed lightly, then his tone hardened, "Now let's get down
ta business. Who the fuck are you?"
"Black Magic," She said, offering him the code name she went by these days.
She scanned his mind briefly. His barriers were too strong to allow her to hear his
thoughts, but she picked up his surface emotions: a startlingly savage mix of aggression,
animosity, and – she snorted – male appreciation. *Well, at least one of us is enjoying
himself,* she thought wryly.
"Black Magic?" He questioned, clearly disbelieving, "What are ya, some kind o'
stripper?" His body rippled with laughter against her back.
"Sorry to disappoint, but it's been a while since I've taken off my clothes for
cash," she shot back, wounded at the insult to her name. If Ororo can get away with
'Storm' I should be able to pull off Black Magic, she thought indignantly. "For now I'm
just a normal girl trying to get some breakfast."
His grip on her neck loosened a little, and his voice turned perplexed. "Are you
one of tha Cajun's broad's?"
Before she could ask who the hell the 'Cajun' was, the creaking of the kitchen
door announced the arrival of someone new. "Logan?" a sleepy feminine voice
questioned in exasperation, accompanied by the flicking on of bright overhead lights,
"What are you doing?"
"Jeannie!" The beast, who was apparently the 'Logan' in question, swiveled
slightly and loosened his hold on Liara's neck. She heard a ~snikt~ sound, and the cold
metal of the 'knife' was withdrawn.
Blinking against the sudden glare of the light, Liara made out a female silhouette
in a no-nonsense, arms crossed pose standing in the threshold. Although the voice and
the figure had changed, the stance was still extremely reminiscent of Liara's memories of
Jean Grey. *Seven years*, she marveled,* and she still hasn't lightened up!* Not that Liara
was in any position to complain if Jean could get this freak to let her go.
As her vision sharpened, Liara saw the redhead clearly, and realized she hadn't
changed all that much after all; her flawless complexion and good-girl looks still irked.
Drowsily unaware of who Logan was holding captive, Jean asked, "Who is that?"
Liara felt Logan shrug behind her. "One o' th' Cajun's females I found sneaking
around lookin' fer a midnight snack," he said, assuming. Liara raised an eyebrow at the
tone, and wondered what kind of a snack he meant exactly.
"I am not–" Liara began, only to be cut off by Jean.
"Remy is back with Rogue," Jean said, informatively.
Logan tensed. "Then who the hell is this?"
"I'm–"
Jean, who had woken up enough to scan Liara's mind, interrupted again, this time
with disbelief in her voice. "Liara? Magic, is that you?" she asked, wonderingly.
"Flamin' hell," Logan growled, confusion quickening to irritation, "Would one of
you ladies be so kind as to explain?"
Sensing that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be in one piece long enough to start
talking, Liara spoke. "I'm Black Magic. Liara Ashcroft…if you want. I used to go to
school here, until…" she hesitated, not caring to delve into the past, "until circumstances
changed. I guess you could say I've come home for a visit."
"She's telling the truth, Logan, you can release her," Jean said quietly, eyeing the
beast's arm around Liara's neck. Thus freed, Liara hurriedly moved away from her
captor. She was startled to be grabbed immediately by Jean, in what turned out to be an
embrace, not an attack. The two of them had never liked each other; at least, Liara had
never liked Jean.
"Liara," Jean said, a look of enthusiasm on her face.
"Magic," Liara corrected, seeking refuge in the comfort of her moniker. It had
been years since she had trusted anyone enough to let them call her by her real name, and
now it grated.
"Magic," Jean corrected absentmindedly, then turned to Liara in wonderment, one
hand on each of her shoulder's, as if she had to touch her to believe that she was real.
"You're back…we all thought…Magic! I have to go tell Charles!" and with that, Jean
ran out of the room, turning back only to cast a incredulous smile at Liara, before she
hurried to wake the rest of the mansion.
*They're gonna love that*, Liara thought, shivering at the idea of being woken up at five in the morning by an overenthusiastic Jean. Turning away from the door, Liara eyed
the refrigerator with glee. Her stomach growled at the mere idea of all the food behind
the gleaming door.
A snort from the other side of the room reminded her she was not alone.
"Hungry?" asked her former captor sarcastically.
She spared him a glare, taking in his physical appearance and trying her best not
to do a double take at the insolent man lounging shirtless, beer in hand, against the
counter. He was built…perfectly put together, but like a fighter, not an athlete. With a
smirk, she entertained thoughts of what he must use all those muscles for. Then she
narrowed her eyes at the beer in his left hand.
"Done lookin', darlin'?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
She didn't even bother to reply to his flippant remark. As nice as his body was, it
was a shame he had absolutely no idea of how to treat a lady. "Is that a Molson's?" She
asked, trying not to salivate.
He seemed disgruntled that she didn't bat her lashes at him and play the flirt.
*Screw you too*, Liara replied mentally, not wanting to get into it.
"Yeah," he grunted. Then a second later it seemed to occur to him that she wasn't
asking just to make small talk. "They're in the fridge."
Liara took that as an offer, and grabbed herself one, as well as a Styrofoam
container of leftover Pad Thai, from the refrigerator. Then she sat down and proceeded
to eat, taking extreme pleasure from the food. She couldn't remember the last time she
had been full.
As she ate, she felt the beast –Logan, she corrected herself– eyeing her. She
easily picked up his thoughts, as they were directed at her:
* Not a bad piece of work…not bad at all. She's a feisty bitch, though. Nice
black hair… wonder what color her eyes are behind those things…who wears sunglasses
indoors anyway? I bet I could make 'er take 'em off…and some other things too…yeah
darlin', smile away, ol' wolvie's got it in for ya' *
Liara directed a big, fake smile at him, letting him know she understood his train
of thoughts. He scowled back. It looked to be the start of a great relationship.