[A/N:] This is my version of a weapon x story, but it's also about Elise and Logan getting the close but somewhat dysfunctional relationship seen in Fragility. I'd go on forever, but I don't want to spoil too much. ;)
Rated M for language and because THIS IS A WEAPON X STORY. In later chapters it will have torture and other not good things, so you have been warned.
Thanks to Jeanniebird for betaing and putting up with my musings.
Chapter 1: "Prologue: Growing Pains"
Logan's POV
2 weeks ago…
"Freeze!" One of the guards yells, pointing his assault rifle at her.
They've got her surrounded. She hasn't moved yet, just let them come to her and lock all the exits.
"Or what?"
All eight of the guards cock their guns at once.
"Ah," She says. "I see."
She jumps from the chair and throws it at one of the guards. They all start shooting, but she ducks and springs up to throw one of them into the line of fire by the barrel of his rifle. Using her momentum, she flings the corpse into another guard while using the butt of the rifle to clobber the guard next to her in the face. He slumps over, knocked out.
Something's wrong. She freezes for a moment and only narrowly dodges enemy fire when she comes back to.
"Do you need to take a break, Elise?" Xavier asks through the intercom.
"No," She growls as a bullet grazes her shoulder. "I'm fine."
The remaining five guards try to surround her again. One of them has to switch out magazines, and she takes that opportunity to grab him and use him as a human shield. She throws him at the guard in front of her and trips another guard, hitting him in the back of the head with his own gun.
The last three are desperate and almost out of bullets. One takes a shot, hitting her stomach. She barely flinches in pain, just keeps coming towards them.
"I am officially done with your bullshit!" She growls.
Shinkt.
And that's the end of the last three.
She busts a hole through the door and sheathes her claws. She sniffs the air.
"Has anyone else noticed how incredibly inconvenient it is that you can barely smell a damn thing in here?"
I'll admit, it really does get annoying sometimes.
She starts running down the hall and freezes again. Thankfully nothing was there ta shoot her that time. Why's she keep doing that?
Xavier looks a little concerned, too, but he doesn't shut off the danger room just yet.
She eventually finds the last enemy: Juggernaut. Or rather – he busts through a wall and finds her.
She extends her claws again and they charge at each other. The moment before they collide, she freezes. Jughead throws her with his punch and she hits the wall with her head, knocking her out. That part of the wall returns to lookin' like the danger room panels, except dented and sparking.
"End Simulation," Xavier says.
Rogue and I rush into the danger room. Rogue gets to her first.
"Rogue, don't-" I say.
Elise wakes up and Rogue startles her. She tries to push her away, but only succeeds in putting
her bare hand on Rogue's face.
I pull them apart before too much damage is done. Elise passes out again.
"Holy fuck!" Rogue yells with Elise's intonation.
"You okay?"
She stares at me wide-eyed, like she's lookin' at a ghost.
"Oh my God, Logan. You… She…"
"What, Rogue? Spit it out."
"She- she's your sister!"
~ooOoo~
Elise's POV
Tonight…
I'm in the foyer of a beautiful mansion. The floors smell of fresh polish; the rugs are spotless. The banister shines tinted blue under moonlight from the huge window in the front. I hear people sleeping upstairs.
But someone isn't sleeping. I hear a little girl laughing as her mother tries to hush her, but quickly gives in and lets her carry on anyway.
Something draws me to that room. The beautiful and well-crafted wooden stairs groan softly under my foot, as if mourning something, as if lamenting the loss of the forest, their home. With every footstep they wish they could go back.
I slip into the room, a master bedroom. The wealth of the family is obvious from the intricate designs on the bed and sheets. A woman with short, dark curly hair holds the toddler, who has curly hair a few shades lighter, in her lap as she sits in front of an ornate vanity brushing her hair.
My stomach does backflips, the room spins. I know what day it is.
The girl grabs at her mother's gold heart locket. She's interested by the way the etchings shine.
"Do you want to see it?" Her mother asks.
The girl giggles and nods. "Yes mama."
Her mother gingerly unclasps it and puts it around the girl's neck, "Alright, Ellie-Grace."
The girl's named Elizabeth Grace, Elizabeth after her mother. She's called Ellie-Grace, occasionally just Gracie, to avoid confusion.
The girl contents herself with tracing the outer designs with her finger, until she notices the hinge and remembers seeing her mother open it. She tries to do it herself, with no success. She pouts and her mother opens it for her.
"That's you, you were just a tiny thing then," Her mother points to the mass of blankets she's holding in the right hand picture.
The girl smiles and stares mesmerized at the tiny pictures she'd never seen before. How did they get that small, to fit in the heart, she wonders. She quickly recognizes her parents' faces and a boy that looked like James and one much smaller.
She points to the small boy, "Who dat, mama?"
Her mother smiles gently and pulls her closer, "That's your brother, James."
"Jay-jay?"
"Yes, baby."
The girl scrunches her nose in confusion and points to big-James. Rather, the boy she'd thought was James. Her mother's smile instantly drops and she closes the locket, still holding it tenderly.
"He…" she trails off as a tear runs down her face. "He's not here." She pulls her daughter into a tight hug, which the girl playfully tries to squirm out of.
"A pity you weren't born before he- He was so much like James. I hope-" She shudders. "I hope one day you can forgive me."
The girl can't comprehend the deep meaning. The implications are lost on her, as they would be on any toddler.
A stair creaks from the back entrance. The woman freezes then puts the girl down.
"Ellie-Grace, go back there and stay," She points to a small space between the corner of the room and the wardrobe.
The girl defiantly stares back.
"Now."
The girl's eyes widen as she scampers off to do what she was told. I follow her and sit next to her in the tiny space. We both jump when we hear the back door open and the gardener walk in with a shotgun. He whispers something to the woman.
The girl and I peek out from behind the wardrobe.
"We're leaving," He says.
"Not tonight. What do you think you're doing, coming in here with that? What if my husband-"
"That excuse fer a man?! The hell'd you marry him for, the money? Sure as hell weren't fer the sex. Ferget him an' let's get outta here."
Suddenly, the husband comes, guided by a candle. He and the gardener yell at each other, and then the gardener clocks him square in the face.
The next words are muffled. The girl is crying and covering her ears. Then, 'BLAM!' The shotgun goes off, quickly followed by the sound of blood and brain splattering.
I retch. The girl whines inconsolably for her parents. She's curled up on the floor, shaking.
"He's dead. You killed my papa!" James yells.
The gardener cocks the shotgun.
"No! Thomas don't, he's my son! Please!"
'BLAM!' Another shot goes off, this time, it hits the wardrobe and an unlit oil lamp. Oil soaks into the girl's nightgown.
The gardener yells at James, re-cocking the shotgun. He quickly trails off and drops to the floor.
James yells and cries, and so does the girl.
There's a break in the wordless agony, "Mama, my hands! What's wrong with them?!"
"No… Not you, too! Not again!" Something metal hits the floor. "Get out, you abomination, wretched creature! You animal!"
James runs out and the room grows silent but for the woman's quiet sobs. No longer overloaded by noise and chaos, the girl peeks out again.
"Mama?" She sniffles, rubbing her eyes with little fists.
Her mother doesn't hear her. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so sorry," she says as she raises the barrel to her temple.
'BLAM!'
The girl screams for her mother, a scream that will never be answered. She runs into the bloodbath. I try to stop her.
"No! Your dress!" I run to her, but it's too late. The candle her father had used had fallen, but not gone out. As the hem of her oil-splattered nightgown brushes over it, it catches fire. She doesn't notice at first. She's still screaming and trying to wake up her parents.
Warm, sticky blood coats the bottoms of her bare feet. She can smell it now, too. The dirty, rusty smell of spilt blood and fresh death. She also smells smoke.
The fire licks up her small legs and I can feel it burning. The girl's wailing is in my head. We go for the door, as if that helps. As if the fire is contained in that room of death. We stumble as the cotton sticks in our melting skin and collapse in the snow. The fire dies, but my screams don't.
Burns splotch my legs and torso. There's a heart-shaped one on my chest from the locket. The agony doesn't fade, but my consciousness does.
"Ellie-Grace?! Oh no. Somebody help!" James wraps me in something and scoops me up as my whimpers fade out.
~xxXxx~
Can't hear myself think through the sound of my own scream. I cling to my pillow and burry my face in it to sop up the tears.