A/N: Hope everyone enjoys this rewrite. Much more information and background on Daria, with flashbacks in future chapters to come. More involvement of characters and better writing! Please review!
Chapter 2
Daria lies on Logan's bed with her eyes shut, listening to the shuffling feet and voices of people inside the mansion. The sound of heavy boots approaching triggers her lips to curl upward. Instantly on her feet, she walks through the dark room and cracks open the door just as he raises a fist to thump on it. Logan is standing on the other side, his blood reeks of impatience and malcontent. He rudely presses his way past her. In his hands are folded clothing; he drops them gracelessly on this still made bed.
"I'll wait outside," he grunts, not meeting her eyes.
Not bothering to bat an eye at his unfavorable attitude, Daria undresses. She folds and places her old clothing gently on top of the bare dresser. As she runs a finger over the outfit, she can see how the material is thread-bare, half wondering how long she has been reusing this outfit, or where she procured it. Logan has brought her a generic grey sweat suit, is that what they call it? 'Yes,' the voice inside her head confirms.
Ignoring the voice, she studies the material briefly before tugging it onto her body. It must have belonged to a man, though thankfully it smells clean of any individual scents. She is swimming in the extra fabric. A heavy hand pounds on the door again. Resorting to Vampire speed, she rolls up the sleeves and pants legs. She notices the shoes left on the bed, but frowns at them and walks to the door.
She opens the door to find Logan standing with his fist raised to pound on it again. Secured between his teeth is a lit cigar. Daria wrinkles her nose at the smell of smoke, distracting herself, she glances out the window and notices the thick rain fall. She nearly exhales in relief.
Like an owner signaling for a dog, Logan lets out a short screech of a whistle to catch her attention as he begins to head down the stairs. She grimaces and is instantly at his side, half hoping to startle him and cause him to take a tumble down the stairwell. Maybe she could accidentally push him… 'Can't pull off clumsy,' the voice in her head says smugly.
Daria settles for annoying him. "That is a nasty habit from what I gather," she says, motioning toward the cigar. "Results in illness, death, no?"
Logan doesn't bother to glance down at her as he leads her into the professor's office. "Are you my mother?"
Daria passes him to be the first to enter the room, but not before pinching his bare arm rather hard. He growls at her and she grins in response, exposing her shining fangs. But for the Professor, she smiles pleasantly before retracting the threatening appendages. As if the office belongs to her, she climbs into a chair, balanced on her feet with her knees pulled to her chest. She looks like a cat, ready to pounce on an innocent mouse. 'Professor ain't so innocent-' the Wolverine growls, pissed for being locked away so tightly when the human went to retrieve Daria.
"Good morning, Daria," the Professor greets with a less strained smile than the previous night. "Logan," he adds with a nod toward him as he leans against the wall near the door. The Wolverine inwardly snarls, still in a sour mood, wanting to get to know Daria in his own way.
"To you as well," she replies evenly, her posture frozen. Logan eyes her, waiting for her break into ballet, or singing, or just openly attack someone. 'Maybe she can do that leg thing again…' The Wolverine suggests with a low growl, imposing images of her pointing her toes toward the moonlit sky with grace. Logan feels his blood beginning to rush and wrenches back the leash on the Wolverine so that he can focus on the real world conversation.
"Daria, I spent last night thinking of how I could make my way past your mind's barrier and I would like to put you in an induced sleep," Xavier begins to explain patiently, speaking to her as slowly as if she was a toddler. "I feel that it would be easier for me to read your thoughts if you were unconscious, that your barriers may naturally come down."
"And what if her barriers don't just come down?" Logan cuts in, taking a step closer to be included in the conversation.
Xavier leans back into his chair and places his hands together. "I am hoping we do not have to resort to other methods. Perhaps I can train her to lower her guard, find another telepath to try. But either of those options could quite possibly take months to obtain, without guarantee that they will be successful."
Logan slips and lets out a low growl that has been building all morning. "Months?"
The professor remains unruffled at Logan's underlying threat. "I understand that you want to know your past, but I would not risk her talents without knowing their full extent, especially when used against others."
Daria is suddenly leaning over the Professor's desk, her hands flat on the deep mahogany wood without him having seen her move. "I am not here to harm anyone. I do not intend to stay longer than required, and that is merely long enough for you to confirm I am telling the truth so that I may gain Logan's trust." She catches the Professor's gaze, but stops herself from using one of her 'talents.'
Holding her gaze longer than any normal human would, the Professor finally blinks and nods. "Then you will agree to being sedated?"
Daria lifts her hands from the desks and rights her posture that would be found impressive by a drill sergeant. "And how may I ask would this occur?"
"A medicinal sedative," the Professor explains, backing his wheel chair up and moving it to come around the desk. "It would be administered intravenously and cause you to fall asleep for an hour or so, perhaps longer, depending on the length of time it takes to become effective."
Daria shakes her head after allowing the professor to finish his explanation. As her hair bounces, Logan is assaulted by her sweet scent, still undisclosed. "I am sorry, but your concoction will not work on me. Vampires are immune to human medicine." She moves back into the seat, perching on her feet. "You will have to more or less completely drain me."
'Drain?' The Wolverine shouts in Logan's mind, uncaring if the Professor is listening, 'Who says they won't accidentally kill her?' Logan chuckles, though mostly at the satisfaction of the Wolverine pacing and howling in his mind. He smirks as he pushes the animal's buttons further, "I'll gladly drain her for you, Professor."
Xavier turns to Logan with a severe glance. "That will not be necessary, Logan. Despite such strange conditions, she has come willingly to help grant you your memories. I should think it would be wise for you to show your guest respect, perhaps even gratuity."
Logan nearly sputters in response. Since when does he, or the Wolverine for that matter, thank anyone? "She has ulterior motives!" When Xavier lightly smiles with amusement, the Wolverine manages to slip out. His voice is growling. "Maybe you shouldn't invite everyone you see into the school, Chuck."
Daria glances between the two men as she sits in the crossfire. Logan's eyes seem different, more alive as he speaks again. Where was this person last night? This man is fierce! 'Mmmm' the voice in her head purrs with admiration at the sight of his aggression.
"I believe I can handle this from here," the professor continues, trying to diffuse the situation, "You may help Storm with defense classes if you so choose."
Logan opens his mouth to respond, but Daria speaks before he is able to. "No," she disagrees, "I would prefer if he joined us. Please, take no offense, but I trust him, more than I do you. Despite his lack of civility, I know that he will be sure to keep me safe until he receives what I have promised him."
Neither Logan nor the Wolverine miss the tone of authority in her voice, not quite giving an order, but not granting room for disagreement either. Xavier manages to keep a straight face at her lack of trust, but leads them out of the room stoically. As they enter the hallway, voices can be heard from open class room doors, topics of science and history and English drifting into the hall. He continues to watch Daria as she follows Xavier into the elevator; Logan sees her shoulders straighten slightly once inside the box of a room.
Closing her eyes as the door to the elevator slides to shut, she struggles not to shift down into a crouching position. The voice inside her head is practically whimpering at the sound of the mechanics moving the box they are trapped in. Trying to center her energy, she struggles to hide her insecurities, her fears of weak humans and their technology.
Compelling herself to remain as still as stone, she settles for closing her eyes and focusing on the emotions of the two men in the room with her. She can hear their blood pulsing through them, healthy clean blood. She concentrates on the Professor and is slightly taken aback by the swarm of feelings, more so that his distrust is not the strongest. His curiosity is the dominant emotion currently, followed by pity, and of course fear, though it is minimal. Realizing the rest of his intent and focus is directed elsewhere, she tries to direct her observation to Logan.
For the first time in many years, she finds herself on the verge of fascination. She tries to be discreet as she inhales more of the air in the tight space. It is as if she is receiving the intent of two persons rather than one. Half is filled with distrust, anger, pity, confusion, the other is roiling with fear, awe, interest, and general discontent. The emotions ebb and flow back and forth with each other, like the tide pounding the shore and pulling away repeatedly, rhythmically. She tries to stop herself from leaning in toward the magnetic blood, and it hits her. Focusing on Logan's blood is as though she is listening to a conversation, absent of words and sounds, exclusively based on instinct and emotion.
Finding herself caught up in the tumultuous waves of his inner workings, Daria is called to attention at the sound of the door opening. Her eyes open in response and she sees Logan already standing in the open room awaiting them. The Professor shows tact and gentlemanly manner as he waits in the elevator for her to step out before him.
Inhaling deeply as she gratefully steps out of the box, she is still ill at ease as she instantly senses she is underground. Even past the structure's metal, plastic, and concrete materials, she can smell the damp Earth surrounding it, its scent seeping through minute cracks in the building's foundation. Once the elevator door shuts and blends nearly impeccably with the walls, she wishes she had asked where another exit is. She takes a moment to survey her fresh surroundings, estimating the distance of the main hall and eyeing the hidden doors that lead to perhaps exits, or more passages? Sniffing the air openly, she is aware of Logan's eyes on her, though she does not act in response. There is no one else on this floor of the building.
But the Professor moves himself in his wheeled chair ahead of her and Logan. Daria draws her shoulders back and brushes past Logan, smiling to herself as he stiffens at her hair trailing against his arm and side. His blood is warring between pleasure and frustration. 'Stop toying with him,' the voice in her head warns quietly. She all but makes the error of physically shaking herself, as if that will silence the voice's unwarranted input.
Daria continues forward until she finds herself in a sterile room. Her receptive nose is assaulted by bleach, medicine, and metal. Several narrow beds stationed on wheels are evenly spaced against one wall while the rest are lined with metallic cabinets set glass faces to show its content with ease and accessibility. Several machines are spaced from each other, none that Daria recognizes. Human medicine has never attracted her attention before. Medical patients on the other hand, now that was a different story…
Managing to shove back memories of bloodlust, she tags along Xavier, her gait nearly skipping, as he leads her to one of the slim white cots. Without instruction, she moves to sit on the edge the bed at her standard swiftness, not bothering to peek over to catch the look of alarm that usually amuses her when made by her prey. She watches Logan shift unnervingly from foot to foot; his anxiety and discomfort causing her own distrust to stir once again. Her legs stop their gentle swaying in response to his emotions.
Watching with apt curiosity, she observes Xavier setting up rows of plastic bags having just been removed from sterile packaging. Long clear tubes are attached to the bottom of each. The first bag in the row he attaches to a metal pool at the head of the bed. Placing a needle securely at the end of the tubing with gloved hands, the professor finally turns to face her.
"Before we begin, I need to ask how I am to restore you to your full health after this procedure is complete. Do I inject your own blood to you…"
Shaking her head lightly. "My own blood will not heal me, I will need human blood."
She is surprised when Xavier nods his head in agreement to her instructions, "I have donated blood bags on ice for medical emergencies, but I will use them for you today." He moves his chair slightly closer and reaches forward with his free hand to a handle on the edge of the cot. It drops several inches lower until she is close to his level. "It would be best for you to lie down. We don't want further injury if you were to collapse, do we?"
Biting back a response about said 'further injury,' Daria complies and lies back, her head lying on the stiff, plastic pillow that barely feels there to support her. She can see Logan watching her, but glancing away quickly when she catches his gazing. Turning her attention back to the Professor, she sees him dabbing a cloth with a bottle labeled 'Rubbing Alcohol.'
"No need to waste your supplies," she says almost edgily, "I am immune to your diseases."
The Professor stops what he is doing to look at her, "All human illness? Even blood born pathogens?"
Daria nods her head in response, "Yes, they take no ill effect on Vampires." At the mention of Vampires again, Logan lets out a small chuckle, though his blood is practically churning with sensation in the neighborhood of panic, though not directed toward her.
She stops herself from plucking her arm away from the Professor as he repositions her arm so her palm faces upward. As she watches him lift the needle and steadies her arm with his free hand, she can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin latex glove. With a short sharp prod of his steady hand, the needle is beneath her skin. He lightly tapes it down and pulls off his gloves, tossing them accurately into a nearby metallic trash bin.
Daria tries not to think about her treasured blood dripping away into a disposable bag, as if it is of the same value as human trash. Her blood is the ultimate source of healing, though humans are not aware, and she will not be the one to make them so. She is taken aback by how little blood must be taken for her to feel its effect as a kind of drowsy feeling begins to seep over her. Perhaps not all of it will need to be taken for her to be put unconscious, she hopes. The Professor works silently as he continues to switch the plastic bags when they fill themselves with her blood.
Inwardly counting each drop of blood she hears fall into the tube, Daria notices after a moment that Logan has left the room without her noticing. Are her senses dulling? 'Yes,' the voice in her head says, much stronger this time, as if she could be sitting right next to her, as if it is- 'A separate person?' the voice finishes for her smugly, its accent heavy from its home land. 'I could only be so fortunate,' the voice spats, 'My body! Mine!' its sound growing unbearably loud as it snarls, nearly drowning out Daria's own conscience. 'Close your eyes, little Vampire,' the growling continues, goading gleefully. Daria cannot fight the draw of sleep and closes her eyes for a moment. But inside her mind she is compelled to confront images, wanting to gag at the taste of her own talents used against her. She recognizes herself in the image, but her cheeks are pink and flushed and she stands in a field of flowers beneath a full sun. Recognizing herself as a human, she shudders at the next image of herself bending over, shrieking, distorting, until a black panther is left in its wake, snarling, hair on its back rising. 'Sleep now, little Vampire,' the Panther says in her mind, the voice who has kept her company for so many centuries.
"How much longer is this going to take?" Logan asks impatiently, standing up and moving toward Daria, having to struggle to keep his eyes from roaming her body more than once. "Is there anything I can do to quicken the process?"
Daria and the Panther mentally shift their attention away from each other at the sound of Logan's voice. Frantically clawing with what little energy she can maintain, Daria uses the sound of his voice to gain purchase of dominance over the Panther.
Her eyes flutter open and she hisses at his threat weakly to acquire his interest.
"Please," Daria says, with the last smidgen of energy she has, her hand flits out to grab Logan's wrist. "Destroy it…"
Logan feels his fingers going numb at her grip. Startled by her eyes flashing briefly to elongated pupils, the Wolverine takes the opportunity to slip out. "Destroy what?" he asks, his voice growling out of disuse. The Wolverine wishes he was speaking to her under other conditions.
Trying to maintain consciousness, her words fail her. Daria's world begins to spin violently and she focuses on his acute eyes that have that air of… 'Alpha' the Panther supplies with pleasure, her voice amplifying as Daria's grows faint. She blinks, once, twice, and all goes dark.
Limply, her hand falls away, allowing the blood flow to glaringly return to the Wolverine's hand. He wishes he knew what she had wanted him to destroy, that fearful look of desperate hope will be sure to haunt him long after. Assured she is unconscious, Xavier smoothly removes the tubing from her arm and sets the blood bag aside with the substantial pile on the table nearby. The Wolverine steps close enough to lean over the bed now that he knows the medical supplies are away and out of sight. He can feel the human gaining control and inhales deeply once more before falling back to watch from the sidelines.
Logan takes a step back to give the Professor space as he wheels forward. It takes him a moment to realize that Daria is not breathing, not the slightest rise of her ample chest, he zones in on her with his sensitive hearing to be sure. Not a sound, not even the faint beat of a heart.
"She isn't breathing," Logan informs him, maybe the professor hasn't realized?
Watching as the Professor ignores him and places his hands a few inches on either side of her face, the Wolverine huffs impatiently in his head. Logan knows better than to interrupt as the older gentleman shuts his eyes to concentrate. He settles for moving to the chair placed on the opposite side of Daria's cot, within an arms length distance in case she wakes up and goes insane, which she undoubtedly is.
'Hello, Daria,' Xavier's voice says patiently, conversing with her by mental means, 'This is Professor Xavier. There is nothing to be frightened of.'
Daria is still struggling with the Panther, the human-like version of herself, the part of her that she keeps locked away from the world. But both the Panther and Daria stop their clashing at the sound of Xavier's voice, turning as they see him roll into their delusional psyche and inner workings of an immortal mind. His wheel chair seems subsequently out of place compared to the sprawling forest and mountainous climate.
The Professor seems unperturbed at the sight of two Darias, though one is completely nude while the other is wearing the sweat suit she dons physically as well on the cot. He continues to move towards the two versions of the Vampire without hesitation, he is even bold enough to smile as he watches the wilder version of Daria inhale deeply as the wind blows at his back and toward them.
'It is curious that there are two of you in your mind,' Xavier half thinks aloud, knowing that they can do no harm to him on this psychological plane. 'Which one of you came seeking my assistance?'
Daria clothed in the borrowed sweat suit steps forward, 'That is I.'
Xavier watches as the other version of herself begins to stalk forward, ever so slowly, each step decisive. Before the clothed Daria can react, the nude one snaps her neck in one smooth motion and drops her callously, as easily as if she had simply twisted the cap to a bottle of pop. Not that she would know what pop is.
'Was that necessary?' Xavier asks the nude Daria, his eyes never straying from hers.
'Yes,' the growls in response, her voice thick with a Russian accent, 'You may call me Panther, that is what she calls me, when she is in a kind frame of mind.'
'May I ask why you felt the need to silence her?' Xavier presses on, his hands folding in his nap. He is surprised when she sits cross legged in front of his chair, her hair falling forward to cover her breasts.
'You are here for the truth,' the Panther states, no reservation in her tone. 'The Vampire will not give it to you, at least, not in its entirety.'
'And who are you?' Xavier asks, leaning back slightly, 'You are a part of Daria, correct?'
The Panther snorts loudly, 'I am myself. I am Daria before she became the anomaly she is today.' Her finger twirls one of her locks and she bites the edge of her lip. 'I was once the dominant personality, when our body was still mortal.'
'You say dominant, meaning there is another personality here?' the professor tries to confirm, his intrigue piqued by the exceptional situation.
She chuckles. 'Do not mistake me for unhinged, we are not split personalities. We are all the same being, just our consciousness was disjointed after time, events, tragedies,' she pauses, 'Immortality tends to damage a person from the inside.'
'How connected are you with Daria as a Vampire? How aware are you of events happening in her life? Is she aware of you?'
'I know all. I may choose to be quiet, but I am always listening. I am very much aware of what decisions she makes. Some I am able to manipulate, urge or dissuade,' the Panther looks upward at an imagined tree canopy that the sun filters through. 'She does not want me, because she wishes to forget her past. As much as it pains her to admit, she is well aware that she needs me' With a laugh she adds, 'She is an organically selfish creature.'
Xavier has to hide his smile of amusement. The Panther is intelligent and captivating, a pleasure to converse with despite the circumstances. 'Do you have your accent because you are the older version of Daria?'
'The Vampire has an accent as heavy as I,' she responds, her back straightening. She does not have the stiff posture that the Vampire does. 'I grant that she is clever with her voice, and with amending to the times.' She adds with a suddenly fierce spat overflowing with resentment, 'However, I could be as well if I wielded my own body.'
Xavier opens his mouth to ask another question, but a motion to his side catches his attention. The Panther must have seen it as well as she leaps lithely to her feet and waves her hand toward herself, as if encouraging someone else to join.
'Это безопасно. Иди сюда,' the Panther calls out with an open smile. But the Panther's smile is unsettling, revealing her pearly teeth that come to points, much like a cat's. (It is safe. Come here.)
Xavier turns his head rather than his chair, afraid that this technology may startle whoever is hiding in the nearby trees. He is fascinated by Daria's mind, so unlike the minds he has seen over the decades. In the past he has heard words, phrases, seen images, and has brought forth memories, but nothing in such detail as this, a private retreat from the world. If he was not so practiced with his mutation, he could very much mistake himself for being in this forest.
The professor feels himself smiling like a young man for the first time in many years. Meeting Daria is like the first time he looked through a microscope to see a slide of Mutant DNA, back when he used words like groovy and drank boot fulls of theories run through his mind, new mutation possibilities. Could she truly be a Vampire as she claims? But he turns back to the Panther, pushing back youthful curiosity, as another form of Daria approaches.
Xavier takes a deep breath at the sight of this Daria, very much human in form. With her head bowed low and her hair hanging forward, her face is veiled. The long, tunic like dress is dark and stained with what the professor has the deep suspicion is blood. Her gait is sluggish and her right leg carries a limp. The Panther offers her a hand to hold as she lowers herself to sit on the ground, several feet further away from Xavier. As her sleeves fall back, he sees the scattering of bruises and scars along her arms. Her legs are revealed as her dress settles by her knees. Her right leg with the profound limp has a heavy ring of scar tissue encircling it, perhaps from a chain or binding. She looks up, pulling her long tangled curls back to reveal a scar running from the corner of her mouth to her ear. The scar tissue is puckered and discolored, even against her unclean skin that is blemished with dried blood and dirt.
'It is vulgar to stare,' the Panther scolds him, shifting his attention away from the new Daria as her hands pull gently at the green grass and wild flowers. Despite her disfigured fingers, they nimbly weave the flowers into a narrow crown. 'This is Daria as she was human, before Vampirism, when she was unable to accept me.'
'Human?' the professor repeats numbly, 'You weren't a mutant?'
The Panther laughs, causing the human Daria to look at her meekly before returning her gaze to her knobbed fingers in her lap. 'I was a Werepanther, shifting into a Panther on full moons and at will.'
'Does she speak?' he asks, not sure that he is ready to learn about yet another supernatural creature that has existed quietly without any real study, running ramped beneath the radar of science and discovery.
The Panther glances at the silent woman, 'Of course, in Russian. She fell to the wayside of our conscious before we ever left Russia, and so, she remains as she was, frightened and submissive. She does not verbalize with the vampire, so I stand for both of us.'
Vampire Daria in the sweat suit begins to stir, but not before the Panther leans over and wrenches her neck again with an audible snap. As if this is the most normal act in the world, the Panther lies on her side casually, soaking in the rays of sunshine that comes down. She leans her head on her propped hand, watching Xavier as he debates on how to move the conversation forward.
Hesitant to deal with the Vampire's erratic behavior, and pressed for time, he approaches the topic frankly.'How do you know Logan?'
The Panther's eyes practically glow at the mention of Logan and she smiles with nostalgia. Uninterested or unable to comprehend English, the human Daria manages to get to her feet. She leans over the Panther and places the thin crown of flowers on her head before patting her her gently, as if the Panther is an unsullied youngster. She begins to retreat back into the shadows of the tall trees. For a woman with the physical atrocities he observed from afar, she is eerily silent as she moves.
The Panther begins to speak, her accent weaving her account like a fairy tale. 'We first crossed each other's paths during what your countrymen call the Civil War. Or is it the War of the States? The War of Northern Aggression?" With a laugh, she waves off the thought, not significant enough to linger on, though she was correct on all accounts. She rolls her shoulders lightly before settling with her back straight as a board. 'I must ask that you not tell him all of which I reveal,' she catches his shift of hesitation, 'I only ask this so that I may tell him myself, when the proper timing permits.'
The professor debates if this is wise, especially with what he has come to understand that the Vampire portion of Daria's psyche refuses to allow the others freedom. With a bold nod he agrees, 'I will only tell him what you wish for him to know."
Looking the professor over once more, she takes a breath before resuming her position lying on the grass, her eyes looking upward at the mental picture of a sky from years ago. Xavier is thankful that her hair and the tall wispy grass block much of her body from view. 'The year was 1863. Having made it our personal undertaking to care for our descendents, we had settled outside a small town of a state known as Pennsylvania. What was left of our bloodline had emigrated to the United States years earlier. We continuously stayed near our bloodline, for centuries, even as they dwindled from disease, pack wars,' she pauses and turns her head to catch his eye, 'even Vampires.' She waits for the disruption of curiosity, but he nods for her to carry on. 'If the Vampire and I harmonized on anything, it was that we wanted to ensure their survival. For a time, we coexisted in this body with little resistance to one another, unaware that our psyches were splitting. Because we shared a common goal, we were unaware of the growing partition. We had been as one for so long that the thought was unfathomable. It was not until after we met James, to whom you refer to as Logan, which the great rift occurred.'
At night, I would feed on fallen soldiers that had been mistaken for dead and left behind. I was careful to feed hastily or portray myself as the ever 'helpful' nurses, who truth be told, brought more pain and suffering than they did healing. However, one night, a pair of Union soldiers in blue managed to escape my senses. The young men did not know what I was doing, what I am, or what she is.
They pursued me as I used the shadows to disappear into the woods, exceedingly confident my agility would render the use my rapidity needless. But the men caught my scent, even through the heavy rain, much to my disbelief and delight. I had never spent time with humans, except for the ones I fed on. These men were different, inhuman by scent."
The Panther pauses, her eyes closed, lips moving silently. Xavier waits patiently, unaware of how much time may be passing as he becomes entranced with Daria's psyche. Though the purpose of his intrusion has not been forgotten. He has yet to find any impression of deceitfulness from the Panther.
The Panther decides not to reveal all. In principle, it is not lying, simply withholding. 'One of the men found me each night near his army's encampment, somehow aware past the moans and stench of death that I was there, watching, waiting in the shadows for a craving I was unable to ascertain. I did not feed on him, for at that point we were still a singular mind. I did not utilize compulsion to have him not only be in the shroud of my company, but to continue to revisit. He followed on his own accord. Our encounters stretched on for weeks, my attachment growing by bounds as he continued find me at night, still reeking of the battle field and sickly men he was encamped with. Engrossed with each other, the world being left to blur around us, we developed what went beyond companionship. The Panther's gaze turns and catches his with an eerie candor, 'Though we both had our secrets."
"You fell in love with him,"Xavier concludes coolly, wishing he could fill in the gaps she left out. One particular detail bothers him, instinctively knowing the slice of information is critical, "Who was the second man?"
Unlike Daria would have the Panther flinches at the question, not at the mention of love. "The second man was James's brother. His name was Victor Creed."
The name sounds familiar to Xavier, and it takes only a moment to pinpoint where he has heard it before. "Sabertooth?"
The Panther turns onto her side, propped on her elbow. She grapples not to snarl despite her seemingly receptive position. "Indeed. No further explanation required I hope?" She waits a moment, knowing the older man will submit. "Shall I move forth?" The Professor lets out a deep breath, but thinks better of pushing for his own curiosity. The Panther resumes lying on her back, fingers tracing patterns in the open air. 'One night, as I walked through the woods surrounding my bloodline's home, to monitor their well being, everything went amiss. I could hear their mind numbing screams. I could smell their blood, their terror. But as hard as I fought, the Vampire's curse would not allow my body inside. My descendents did not know the extent of my existence, lacking the knowledge to call out to me for help, to invite me inside. Although I had feigned myself as a 'helpful' neighbor on previous occasions, I had never been asked into their home to share further company."
The Panther's hands stop moving in the air above her, and she places them crossed on her chest, like a body placed for viewing in a casket. "By the time I could step over the threshold, my descendents had passed on, left lying in pools of their own blood. A mother and three daughters had the light of their lives extinguished in a matter of moments, their last minutes filled with horror as they were beaten and clawed to death." The Panther takes a discernible breath, as if blowing away the bitter taste of her memories. "Needless to say, I had come to blows with him- the true monster." She turns toward Xavier, to verify he is listening. Xavier suddenly feels unremarkably youthful as he stares into her eyes, eyes that carry minute joy and much heaviness. "He stood there with the audacity to laugh at me as my attacks against his bodily form healed before my eyes.
"In my rage, I neglected to notice that James had again followed me. He remained silent as I released the self-loathing of my failure and my immense grief. He saw me for what I truly am, a monster of the most terrible variety. He saw my teeth, my speed, and my strength, at a time when I was much fiercer and hazardous than I am now. As I had expected and fretted then, the truth of my being revolted him. James's brother stood tall as he blamed the murder of my descendents on me. Not only did he effectively end my bloodline, he managed to defile my name in the aftermath.
"Victor, vastly pleased with himself, walked away before James. I begged for him to stay still, to understand, to see that it was his brother's doing. But it was too late, he was beyond the point of hearing. And for the first time, I saw him for the animal his brother called him. He stabbed me with his claws, but it did nothing. And at that moment, I wish that he could end my existence. What had I to live for? I had no family, I had lost the only man I had ever come to care for. For the first time, I had no purpose. I bolted into the night before my presence could wreak more havoc.
"Late that night, I used the clouds' shadows to shield me from the full moon as I made my first and final trip into the army's encampment. I followed James's scent until I found him sleeping restlessly, alone in his tent. As gentle as I could manage, I woke him. I resorted to compulsion to still him before he could alert others to my presence, more importantly Victor. In my distress and haste, I compelled him to forget meeting me and who I am, until I gave him permission. I hummed a melody to him until his eyes closed again, and he fell asleep without struggle. Again, I retreated into the night.
"It was that particular incident that caused the Vampire and myself to mentally split from one another. She won control of our body, and I vowed to myself that I would kill Victor for the damages he had brought upon.
The Panther sits up in the tall glass that has flattened to the shape of her body. Like a large feline, she stretches luxuriously, raising her arms above her head.
She smiles sheepishly at him before carrying on with her account. "With the Vampire in complete control, she obsessively followed James and his brother for more than a century and a half. It did not take long to realize that they had stopped aging, much like myself, though we did not share the same weaknesses and strengths. Through each war, the Vampire used our body to follow them, waiting for an opportunity to kill Victor. I thought our humanity had all but abandoned us, until I came to the disappointing realization that Victor's death would only bring us more grief, in more way than one…" The Panther's voice fades away, remaining tight lipped at her reasoning to spare Victor's life.
"Once more, the future did not hold what I had expected. James abandoned Victor for a real life. He fell in love with another woman after all those years, and I cried tears of both joy and frustration as I observed from afar. The Vampire had a new purpose, to protect James from his brother, as best as she could as she simultaneously struggled to fight my instincts."
The Panther moves to her feet and begins to pace a narrow line, her voice lowering itself to a growl. "I was made to watch in silence as James's love falsified her death with Victor's assistance. I followed him to Stryker's layer, but without invitation, I was rendered incapable of entering the building.
"When he emerged from the facility, James was a changed man. He smelled the same, but there was a metallic taste in the air surrounding him." She pauses, her gaze looking past Xavier, as if re-living the moment. "He had finally let the Wolverine out. I watched as he fought and allowed his brother to escape. Not only in a single day did he lose his lover, but he lost all the memories he had left.
"The Vampire decided that she would kill Victor before granting James his memories. But Victor knew we had been tracking him, he was a step ahead of me for years. But only a handful of months ago, the Vampire lost his trail. In bits and pieces, I convinced the Vampire that Victor's sudden vanishing was a ploy, that it was time to return for James to protect him."
Xavier lets out a puff of air, pressing his lips together for a moment as he debates how to respond to this account that resembles fiction more than a woman's life. "What am I to tell Logan?"
The Panther smiles with sheer gratefulness at his compliance. "Tell him his brother killed my family and wishes to kill him as well." She sighs. "But tell him no more than that. I will give him his memories when he is able to accept them."
The professor hesitates, "How can I be guaranteed that you will keep your promise?"
"I suppose only time will reveal my honesty," she says with an arrogant wink.
'Will Daria have no recollection of our conversation?' Xavier asks.
The Panther grins lazily, showing her sharp teeth, 'Not past snapping her neck.'
'Although I made my agreement with Daria on Logan's behalf,' Xavier continues, 'I am willing to help reconnect your conscious if you so wish.'
The Panther sits up quickly at his offer, at achieving what she has longed for, 'And how would that work? The Vampire will never agree to it, you would have to drain her against her will, and that is not a feat easily managed.'
"Perhaps Logan's input would appeal to her?" the Professor suggests, with the slightest of smiles. "But until then, I hope you remain patient."
The Panther snarls, bringing her namesake to light, "As if a century and a half does not prove my patience."
Xavier still smiles at her sarcasm, closing his eyes to focus on retreating from her psyche.
Logan unfolds out of the uncomfortable chair when he sees Xavier open his eyes and move his hands away from Daria's head. The look on the Professor's face is contorted between amusement and concentration.
"So, is she just insane?" Logan asks with a smirk, trying to distract himself from the impatience building within him.
Xavier rolls back his wheel chair to a nearby freestanding refrigerator with a glass front. Returning with a bag filled with donated blood, he attaches it to the IV needle still taped to the inside of Daria's arm.
"I do not believe she's insane," Xavier begins as he places the bag on the hook of the metal stand. "In fact, I have complete trust that what she has told me is the truth," he makes eye contact with Logan, "Including when her claims to be a Vampire."
Logan feels the weight of what Xavier is about to tell him and settles back into the too small seat. The Wolverine is tense, 'Maybe we shouldn't ask him yet, maybe we should just let the whole damn thing stay unsaid. You're opening a can of worms...' He crosses his arms and nods for the Professor to continue.
"Daria is more intricately involved in your past than I initially thought…" Xavier begins his recount of meeting The Panther.
When Daria opens her eyes, her body's internal clock tells her that night has already fallen. Half expecting to feel groggy, she is taken aback to find herself more energized than she had before being drained. She sits up hastily, ripping the needle from her arm without a second thought. Logan is sitting at her side. His head is in his hands, and he looks up at Daria. There is no anger left in his eyes, only disappointment. She reaches out a hand tentatively, the first time she has tried to comfort someone in more than a century. But he stands and walks away from her without a backwards glance, leaving her alone to her thoughts.
A/N: Hope everyone enjoyed this rewrite of a chapter! Will re write the rest asap! More action, more dialogue, and improvement on writing I hope. Please review! It keeps me going!