"You need to learn how to fight," Erik told her, completely out of the blue one evening during dinner, and in front of everyone else in the band no less. Probably making sure she couldn't weasel her way out of it.
"I can fight," she shot back. It wasn't as if she was lying, not really. If you lived on the streets of America as a kid and didn't learn how to bite and scratch and go for the groin to best effect, and then run, you'd lose your food pretty quick. Or if you were older you'd get raped, or dragged off for god knows what purposes by men who, looking back now, she reckoned were pimps. She'd seen it happen, and had taken steps to ensure it would never happen to her. She'd always shifted to the old man form for the few precious minutes until the men had gotten what they wanted from someone further down the street and left, before releasing and collapsing to hide in garbage, so she could get her strength up again.
She saw Frost look over at her and frown, and quickly shut off the memories that she'd thought were long buried under the ones of the good years. Erik had said something about not measuring up to a combat situation in the meantime. "Who says I need to do that? I can just hide for a second, shift into a little girl or something, come out and cry, no one's the wiser. 'Please, mister, I'm scared'", she added, using her eight year old voice. She was enjoying trying out all the things her vocal cords could do.
"That won't be good enough, I'm afraid," Frost cut in. "We're not discounting your gifts, they're invaluable, but out of all of us you're the least offensive. If the humans don't fall for your trick, what would you do to defend yourself?"
Neutral Raven might be towards Frost - although that neutrality was fast waning, seeing as how she and Erik were starting to make decisions about her without actually asking for her input - but she couldn't deny that the woman had a point. Hell, she had a whole arsenal. Erik and Riptide could…disable any number of people from a distance, Angel could fly again and shoot those fireballs, Azazel had the whole teleporting thing, not to mention those swords of his and that sharp tail. Even Frost could use her powers to give someone a migraine times ten, and her diamond form had healed enough by now that she was pretty near indestructible – unless Erik decided to restrain her with a bed frame again. (Don't mentally joke about the telepath when she's in the room, don't do that unless you want that mega migraine.)
And what could she do when it came to real actual fighting, not just a scuffle in an alley? Yeah, she was stronger now that she stayed in her true form most of the time, but she didn't know what on earth to do with that strength.
Still, she wouldn't give Frost complete satisfaction. "Probably not a lot," she answered, not looking at her as she reached for some of the bread. She couldn't quite get it until Angel pushed the basket over, and then she had to say thanks so she wouldn't look like she was having a quiet tantrum, even if she still couldn't quite meet the other girl's face. She picked a roll and tore open the crust. "Fine. I'd be willing to learn, if anyone had something they could teach me." She aimed that last part at Erik; shameless, but Erik was the only one she'd be comfortable getting into close quarters with anyway.
So that made it all the worse when Azazel spoke, and didn't even have the courtesy to address her as he did it. "I will teach the girl," he said to Erik, with a side glance at Frost, completely overlooking her.
"I was rather hoping for that. Magneto?" Erik how dare you don't you dare don't you dare, but though he looked as unhappy as she felt about this he did nod, effectively sealing the deal. Oh hell.
"Is good. We begin lessons tomorrow, then." Azazel sipped his coffee and it was over, just like that.
She didn't protest or argue or anything , because in that way lay accusations of childishness, and lack of conviction, and What are you even doing here then and I should never have made you come, I'm so sorry, and she just couldn't take any of that right now. What she did do was excuse herself very soon after and go and sit outside, wondering if she could make her skin pigment match the grass. When she felt it was time to sleep she went back inside and of course ran into Frost almost straight off; perhaps the woman had been coming out to get her.
"I know that you don't like Azazel," she said, right off the bat. "But this isn't about what you like. He's the best among us at hand to hand combat, and that's what you need to learn if you want to survive."
"I know." Believe it or not, Frost, I'm not a naïve little girl who followed Erik out of hero worship and never expected to get my hands dirty. And yeah, I'm allowed to call him Erik. She didn't add any nyer nyers, but Frost's eyes still narrowed that little fraction.
"So glad you do. Azazel says he will meet you in the great hall, eight a.m. Don't be late."
"I won't be." Okay, Frost might be a teeny bit concerned for her. Deep down. It didn't mean she had to go along with it with a smile on her lips and a song in her heart, like all those characters that the Disney company pumped out. She could see Frost actually smirking a little, not self satisfied but honestly amused this time. Glad to oblige. Oh, and if I'm going to do as you say, could you do as I say and not read my mind unless you absolutely have to? Thank you so much.
Erik was waiting in their room. He didn't hold a hand out to her or say anything, not even when she went and curled up on the chaise longue, instead of climbing up beside him and moving into his arms. But she had given him the comfort of at least being present, even if he'd sleep alone for the next few nights. The night she stayed out of this chamber was the night Frost was allowed to dig her claws in. She spent her time compensating for the chill she was no longer used to in this case, and listening to Erik mutter in his sleep – I'm the only one allowed to call him Erik, and I'm the only one allowed to see him like this, so there – and thought about Charles, and if he could sleep yet.
They'd gotten into the habit of waking up at the same time, so he watched her from the bed as she got up, stretched and headed for the door. Another good thing about no more clothes; you didn't have to spend ages deciding what to wear in the morning.
Azazel wasn't there when she got to the hall, big surprise, so she amused herself by trying to grow her own tail. This, she quickly decided, was problematic. So far all the forms she'd taken had the standard two arms two legs layout; versatile as her physical structure was, what it wasn't was used to the concept of a fifth limb. Or the possibility of a missing one? Now that she thought about it, could she retract an arm or a leg into her body to mimic an amputee? The temptation to experiment was already strong, but probably best to stick with the tail for now.
She looked over her shoulder at her reflection in one of the hall's mirrors, watched the scales move at the point where her back ended and her butt began as they tried to process her mind's request. They did manage to create a little nub of flesh that stretched down to rest between the beginning of her buttocks, nothing more for the moment, and she sighed in exasperation. And then she jumped as the air imploded, and coughed as the red smoke engulfed her.
When it cleared he was standing just behind her – or was it before her? – and so close she could feel the heat of his body on her breasts and belly. She brought her head around quickly so she could look him in the eye, but his eyes were on the mirror. Or more specifically on the reflection of the area she'd been so focused on. She retracted her failure at once and stepped away, crossing her arms, daring him to say something.
He did. "Nice, but it would not suit you so well, I think. Tails are more trouble than they are worth. Have a mind of their own." As if to prove his point she felt a tickle as his fifth limb traced the side of her foot; she stepped further away and it returned to curl about his legs. He grunted and set down those two swords of his, and then deliberately stepped close to her again. "Well, let us have this out now. I frighten you. Da?"
She had to look up to meet his eyes now; the silk of his tunic brushed her elbows and her pulse hammered everywhere she could think of. "You did kill about twenty guys in front of me, in a matter of seconds. And you tried to stab my friend in the eye. With your tail." The item in question rose up again, almost at the mere mention of it, like a hound dog. "These things kind of tend to stick in the mind."
He raised an eyebrow, and the scar on his face stretched with it. "And yet I recall, your Magneto was perfectly willing to return all those missiles to their senders, killing thousands. It does not matter so much if you cannot see or hear them dying, perhaps, only watch the explosions from afar? And he did not succeed only because he was busy, deflecting that bullet into the telepath's spine." She couldn't help it, she flinched and he noticed. "Another friend of yours, that he maimed? He does all that, and yet you are afraid of me?"
It took everything in her to simply shrug and not try to break his face. "Hey, I know I'm a hypocrite, I don't need you to remind me. That doesn't make me wrong. And I know that Erik would never," she saw the incredulity on his face and split decision went for realism, however much it stung, "intentionally hurt me. You, I'm really not sure about. You could kill me, and do it four more times before I even realised I was dead."
"True. Very true. All the more reason that you should put aside your fear, let me teach you to do the same."
"I don't want-"
And that was the thing, right there, she didn't know how to finish that sentence. Not that she didn't have plenty of choices: You to teach me. To listen to you. To learn how to hurt. To learn how to kill. To turn into something like you. To do this. To be here.
"What don't you want, Mystique, pet?" Azazel asked, leaning forward.
She'd regret it, she'd pay for it, she knew it, but she darted out a hand and seized hold of his mandarin collar, tugging him further forward still. She thought he'd bamf straight away but no, he let her pull his ear to her mouth. "First off. Don't call me pet." Then she shoved him from her, hard. He was smiling as he steadied himself, and she thought she could see an incisor sharper than was the norm.
The smile went away as she shifted to the form that she'd used to decieve him so Hank could knock him out, and smiled Shaw's sickly smile. "And second, you're working for the guy who killed me, friend. So who's the hypocrite now?"
Oh yeah, he made her pay for that, even though he never touched her throughout the whole course of the day. She was still mad with Erik, but she crawled into his embrace when evening came, and she shed bitter tears of pain that were still healthier than the crying fits she'd been having over the past weeks. She'd always been a fitness buff, but she'd never experienced anything like that awful day, and even her new control over every muscle she had didn't stop them from killing her.
"It will get easier. I promise," Erik said as he stroked her hair and the scales on her waist.
"Can't you teach me?" she murmured to his neck, but she had expected his plea of needing to make plans with Frost so she wasn't disappointed. At least it was still Frost, and it didn't sound as if she'd ever be Emma.
The pain was with her even as she slept, and for the first time she thought she felt one of them while in the embrace of the other. Perhaps Charles was visiting Erik and she just happened to be in the way. Or perhaps he was trying for her as well. Or just for her.
It hurts so much, and she didn't know which of them had thought or dreamed it.
