Author's Note: Thank you very much for the kind reviews. I hope this chapter is up to your standards. The story is going a bit slow, but I intend for this to be almost like a mini-novel.
And thus, the fantasy portion of the story begins.
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Chapter Two
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Oh God.
Blue. When was the last time he had seen blue? Not since his powers had first manifested, his mind answered, and that had been too long ago.
He didn't know how long he had stood there, staring at the sky, making note of the pure whiteness of the scattered clouds, the sheer lightness of the sky's blue hue. God, it's so damn beautiful…
The thought that crossed his mind made him feel silly, but he could not help it. There were times when he had lain in bed, wondering whether he had forgotten what colors actually looked like… It had been so long that his eyes have remained captive in their red cage that even his dreams now occurred in red.
With a shake of his head, he found himself trying to erase the foolish grin on his face as he commanded the leader in him to take over. He sighed. He had no idea where he was, and that was enough cause for worry. Surveying his current surroundings, a slight frown shadowed his face.
A few feet to his right, a giant dry rock was next to an old deciduous tree that had only begun the process of abscission, as brown and yellow leaves littered the dirt ground. Past the tree, a vast green meadow spread outwards. It seemed to stretch on for miles while snowcapped mountains stood in the background.
Picturesque.
His gaze drifted downwards. Some thirty feet away, something glinted among the lush grass. He raised a hand to cover his eyes from the sun, but it amounted to nothing; he still couldn't tell what the shiny object was. He was just about to head towards it when he heard a muffled… yell.
"Help!" a man's voice cried.
Scott swiveled his body around, creating an abrupt 180 degree turn… and was met with nothing. Nothing but endless blue sky.
With a confused look on his face, he glanced downwards.
He was standing about ten feet from the edge of a cliff. Quickly his mind began to remember how, only a few minutes ago, he had been crawling on his knees with closed eyes looking for his visor, not knowing that he had been so close to a terrifying fall.
He exhaled.
"Somebody!"
Scott readied himself. The voice seemed to come from… below. From over the edge of the cliff. Or is it better to say 'under'? thought Scott
Warily, Scott edged closer to the verge of the plateau, heart beating fast. When the points of his right boot passed the edge, he took a deep breath, looked behind him to ease his paranoia that someone might suddenly push him, saw that indeed, he was alone, and finally, peered. He saw a short tree branch (or root? Scott wondered) sticking out of the cliff's side, with a thick bundle of leaves at the end of it. He couldn't see anyone… wait, were those fingers?
"You there!" the voice yelled.
Startled, Scott almost lost his balance, as he stepped backwards ungracefully, and winced when he fell on his rear.
"No! No! No! Come back! Please!" the voice begged.
Still breathing erratically, Scott peered again, and this time was able to see where the voice was coming from. It was a man, bald, from what Scott could see, and he was hanging with both hands gripping the branch, his feet kicking wildly beneath him.
"Oh by the gods! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you for coming back! I thought you had left me!"
Oh, great. Now how the heck did he get there? Scott pondered, mild annoyance in his thoughts. He shook his head. He had to find a way to rescue him!
"Uh… hold on! I'll find something to pull you out with!" Scott shouted.
"Wait! There should be some rope somewhere around there! Those…" –the man's voice groaned, as if in great pain- "damn thieves had tied me up for… for hours before deciding on throwing me over the cliff! Just… look for it! And hurry! My grip's getting weaker!"
"Uh, all right! Hang on!"
Scott scrambled onto his feet and searched wildly, his thoughts jumbling as he tried to force down his growing panic. What if the thieves took the rope with them? Then what? The man could lose his grip at any second!
"Where is it? Where is it?!" he muttered to himself. Oh, fuck.
His eyes scanned the dry grass and the dirt around him. Nothing.
He turned his head and was about to give up when… there! He saw the end piece of a rope lying from behind the big rock. As fast as he could, Scott grabbed the rope, and was pleased to see that there was at least a length of twenty feet of it. Quickly rolling it up, he headed towards the edge of the cliff once again.
"I've got it!" he yelled. "I'm gonna throw it! Grab on when you can!"
Scott waited a little, holding on to the other end of the rope, and listened impatiently to muffled sounds and disturbing groans until…
"I've got the rope! You can pull!" came the voice.
And so Scott heaved, and pulled, and sweated even after his arms and fingers became sore, and he only stopped when the poor victim had made it over the edge and was now lying next to Scott on the ground.
When both men had regained their breath, the bald man stood up suddenly. Scott turned his head to look at him, who was motioning for him to head towards the tree.
"Come on. I don't feel too good lying so close to the edge," he explained.
Rolling his eyes, Scott obliged and followed the older man, who had taken a comfortable sitting position against the tree.
Grabbing a seat against the giant rock so that he faced the stranger, Scott once again turned to observe the man. He was a bit on the stocky side, his head and face completely deprived of hair, wrinkles around gray eyes, and his body didn't seem proportioned, Scott thought, as his arms and biceps seemed a little too big for the length of his body. It reminded Scott of a gorilla. A hairless one.
But that wasn't the strangest thing that Scott noticed. No, it was the way the man was dressed. He looked like he had stepped out of a catalog for medieval clothing. With his strange outfit, he looked like a peasant from the 15th century, Scott thought incredulously.
"What the hell you starin' at, boy?" the man spat.
Scott raised an eyebrow. Just a few minutes ago, this man had been begging, and now here he was calling the leader of the X-Men 'boy'. Who did this man think he was? A small smirk crept onto Scott's face.
"I thought the thieves tied you up before throwing you over the cliff. How come you're… not tied up?"
"They untied me. They decided it'd be more fun to see me hanging from a skinny branch to see how long it would take before I'd let go," came the gruff reply. "They waited a long time before finally giving up and leaving me."
Still looking at Scott, the man pursed his lips. "You're still staring."
"I am. I'm staring at you, and your strange clothing. Why are you dressed like that? Where's the fair, buddy? Did you need a wagon getting there?" Scott retorted.
The man scrunched his brows. "So now you're making fun of the poor, are you? And how about you? What are you wearing? What is that?"
At this, the old man scurried towards Scott and grabbed a fistful of Scott's stretchy uniform, pulling it and then releasing it, making it snap against Scott's skin.
"Hey! Ow!"
"What is that material, anyway? What's with the cross across your chest? You look ridiculous."
"Hey, get away from me! I saved your life! You didn't even say thanks." Scott glared at the man, briefly remembering that without his visor, he could now… well, glare! "And you were heavy, too."
The man went back to leaning against the tree, though he kept his eye on Scott. "Hmph. Well, thanks. I appreciate you pulling me out of that… predicament."
Scott straightened himself against the rock, his glare still intact. "You're… welcome."
"I'm called Daniel, by the way," the man spoke up, in a somewhat… less rough voice.
"Scott. My name's Scott Summers."
Daniel looked at him suspiciously, but didn't say anything, so Scott allowed himself to shut his eyes as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. Now that this ordeal was done and over with, he had to take care of his problem. First of all, he had to find a way to communicate with Jean and the others. Yes, that would be the most important thing, he thought. Well, the most important thing after getting the hell away from this crazy old man.
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In the garden.
He was about to kiss her, she knew it.
But then… why was it so…
So… cold.
Get up.
So goddamn cold.
Get up, Jean. Get up!
With a start, Jean Grey opened her eyes, and was met with the sight of snow.
Snow. Everywhere.
She had been lying down on the snow. No wonder it was so damn cold. As she stood up, she swayed a little, but held onto sheer determination, and was soon standing on her feet. Breathing shallowly, she held a hand to her cheek. It was numb. She could barely… feel. And it was terrifying.
Although her X-Men uniform was designed to protect her from all sorts of weather conditions, she knew she had been in the cold for too long. The dampness had begun to seep through the layer of her uniform.
Each breath she released came with puffs in the air due to the cold, and her body shivered madly. Trying to get some sense into her, she glanced and observed her surroundings. It looked like she was at the edge of a forest of snow-covered pine trees, and as she turned her head, she noticed that she was standing at the side of an old road. Her eyes followed the length of it, and her heart sank. It seemed to stretch on and on. And snow continued to fall!
God, she felt so weak. There was no way she could walk that far and find help. She was going to die, she just knew it!
Wait, stop, Jean. Use your telepathy, she told herself, trying to stop herself from panicking. See if there's someone… out there.
Taking a deep breath, and bringing her fingers to her temples, she concentrated. But… something had already felt wrong, even before she had begun to raise her hands.
Emptiness. It was a feeling of emptiness so overwhelming it was enough for tears to appear in her eyes.
"There's no one out here," she murmured. "That's why I don't hear anything… any voices, any thoughts… There's no one. I'm…. alone."
She fell to her knees. "My thoughts have never felt so… quiet…"
Thud, thud, thud…
Jean turned her head. She felt the vibrations on the ground, and she heard the faint sounds coming from afar. Like… a gallop. A horse?
She stood up quickly, and felt dizzy, but refused to let it affect her. She narrowed her eyes to focus her vision… could it be?
"There's someone on horseback…" Jean whispered, allowing herself to hope. "And they're headed this way!"
Again, Jean raised her fingers to her temple, wanting to scan the rider's mind to see if they would be a friend or foe to a stranger like her on the road. But it was to no avail. Jean furrowed her brows. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with her telepathy?
Unfortunately, she wasn't able to dwell too much on the disturbing thought as her tired eyes suddenly began to close. She shook her head, willing the exhaustion to go away. No, she thought stubbornly.
Wait. Yes, that must be it. I'm exhausted, Jean thought. I must not be… concentrating… enough…
She fell to her knees again in the snow, and try as she might, she knew she wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer. The gallops became louder.
Whether this rider was dangerous or not, there was nothing more she could do, nothing but fall back into the same position that she had found herself in when she had first woken up.
As she laid quietly, her eyes still refusing to close completely, she fought to breathe, breathed like it was the most difficult thing to do. And finally, the sounds stopped. The thuds, the gallops… they all ceased. She heard a horse neigh, and it sounded so close, so near.
Her eyes traveled from the ground level and upwards, upwards…
As she finally surrendered to the darkness, her lips formed a small amused smile.
Through her red strands, she could've sworn she saw… that… that…
The rider was wearing some sort of… armor.
Yes, sent to rescue her was her very own knight in shining armor. Goodness, she must have finally lost her mind. And in her thoughts, she giggled, giggled as she fell into sweet blissful unconsciousness.
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