Thank you to my reviewers SinfulVamp, Jehilew, Spasticatt, katartct52, afroeuvre, and guest. And special thanks to Ludi for Beta-ing.
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Kurt took her up…to this safe place. To this hidden door in the floor of a grain silo surrounded by wheat and wild grass. She had been restless and needed to feel the wind on her face. She needed to think as well…about what was happening to her.
No one said much about it so it didn't seem like a big deal, but now that she was "older" she realized it was because no one understood what was happening and consequently no one knew what to do about it.
When she looked in the mirror now she saw a woman in the summer of life where only a year ago it had been spring. It frightened her that she might careen all the way through winter before she had a chance to get her bearings…to remember. Memory though, was fraught with fear, with pain, and now with anger. Someone had hurt her and she could hear his voice, beautiful and cold, repeating itself in her memory.
"Regression…another regression…another blood sample…another biopsy…bone marrow…brain…regression…regression…regression."
She remembered the pain of thick needles. In her bones. In her skull. She remembered tiny child hands too tired to move or in too much pain to be still. Had she been sedated for some of it? For most of it? Because she still couldn't fully separate dream from memory. Only that voice…it was real. She knew it was real. And she hated it.
She stood in the door of the silo and looked out over the fields. Kurt stood behind her, a little unnerved by her far away demeanor but by something else as well. She was undeniably a woman now, perhaps even older than him in appearance, and addressing her as a child seemed disrespectful. He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Rora. There are high clouds…we should go"
She turned her head slightly as if hearing some distant sound that she didn't recognize. Then she seemed to snap out of it She smiled at him and walked closer to him. "You are walking quite well." She said innocently.
"Ja…it is much better." He unconsciously looked down at his leg.
"I thought you might have a limp."
"It never fully fractured. It was a lot of tissue damage though."
"I suppose…I suppose that is good to hear."
"Yes." His brow was furrowed. He could not help his manner. She was undoubtedly Rora…but in the weeks since he last saw her she had turned into a rather intimidating woman. He wanted to tell her to come inside with him, but he couldn't bring himself to do more than suggest.
"What is it?" She asked politely.
"You are very different Rora."
"Oh that. Yes…I don't know that there is much to do about it though."
"What has Dr. McCoy said?"
She didn't know why this made her laugh a little bit but it did. "He knows nothing."
"Are you going to keep aging?"
"Every indication points to yes…but somehow I don't think so. Somehow I feel as though I have reached a certain threshold….and a certain level of understanding." She looked at him pointedly.
"What do you mean?"
"What are we doing here Kurt? You are obviously a sniper. This compound is obviously secret, the trap door in this silo is secret. I speak with people and they are all working for this organization that seems to have a purpose but I'm not sure what it is. Even Anna…she works for it. What is it?"
"It isn't my place…"
"Alright then." She looked away abruptly and he felt dismissed. Thunder sounded in the distance but he left her there, because she seemed capable of coming in when the rain began.
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Raven took her seat in the darkened room and sipped her lukewarm tea. A few free standing desks sat in her periphery, their inhabitants shielded by opaque crystal monitors.
"Hello ma'am, how was your trip to Kitra?" A young blond man said as he stepped out from behind the hull of his work station.
She smiled and bowed her head in the direction of the voice.
"It was fine Douglas. I hope you didn't miss me here too badly."
"We managed." He said good-naturedly if sarcastically…She smiled a little at that.
"So what is this briefing in regards to? Usually Emma briefs me, so I assume this is urgent…"
"We don't know ma'am." Doug replied politely and Raven smiled ever so slightly every time he called her ma'am. "But Ms. Frost is in Tenz at the moment and we didn't really want to wait."
"By all means then." She gestured to the wall-mounted screen with her hand and Doug began his narration, as the screen seemed to magically flicker in time with his story.
An image of young Ororo illuminated the room.
"We knew that the girl's name was Ororo and we assumed that she was a test subject for Dr. Essex. This has been confirmed."
Raven stifled a yawn.
"She was part of a research endeavor titled 'Project Storm'."
An image of the Essex compound appeared.
"It began with hundreds of subjects and aimed to delay the aging process. This required multiple age regressions by an unknown means and it proved fatal to all subjects except for Ms. Munro."
Another image of Rora at an even younger age.
"However the dates on Essex's lab notes lead us to believe that Ms. Munro may be upwards of 45 years old. One of Essex oldest subjects."
Raven went utterly still.
"There was another project as well…"
"Wait…do you have the experimental data from this project?"
"Yes."
"In it's entirety?"
"We believe so, yes, with the exception of his regression method."
"That's…almost unbelievable. I am thoroughly impressed when all I asked you for was her identity. How may I ask?"
"We exploited a zero-day security shortfall in their new R&D security system. It is now patched but we were able to gather…quite a bit, which brings me to the next subject you asked me to look into. Mr. LeBeau. He was also the subject of one of Essex research projects."
An image of a handsome auburn haired man in a Dark Star uniform flashed on the screen. Raven sat up in her chair, suddenly alert.
"He looks… … …very much like Essex."
"Yes…with good reason…he was part of another project called the "Black Womb" meant to supply Dark Star with enhanced soldiers with diminished empathy. Essex used his own genetic material and that of a donor and 'improved' upon it. The soldiers were all clones…"
An image of an identical man covered in tattoos appeared.
"…and having determined that children raised in the lab were sub optimal subjects he decided to adopt them out, however most have since died from a built in genetic defect which limits their lifespan."
Another image of Le Beau in his uniform flashed on the screen…Raven stared like a statue at the picture, looking sidelong with a cigarette half way to his mouth.
"Mr. Le Beau was adopted by Marguerite and Jean Luc Le Beau and given the name Remy. He lived out his youth in the remediated region of New Orleans where he had frequent run ins with law enforcement. He was monitored from a distance and at 16 Essex reached out to him through a Dark Star recruiter. He was given specific assignments, which Essex used to study him one of which was the destruction of Izmar. After this Remy defected, and Essex declined to pursue him, deeming him a failed experiment. He popped up briefly working for an organized crime syndicate. He left this as well and disappeared for a while only to turn up with Anna and Ororo several months ago. Incidentally Mrs. Munro had escaped Essex's lab and been captured by thugs working for this same syndicate presumably for trafficking, but as her captors had been killed she was left to die in a storage locker. Per her own statements it was Mr. Le Beau who saved her and kicked this investigation off in the first place."
Raven was motionless, staring forward at this rough facsimile of a young Nathaniel Essex. His eyes were brown instead of his father's steely blue…but the bones of the face…the confidence in his pose and movement, earned or not, were all the same. His eyes though, captured as they were in a personal moment, seemed empty, dangerous in an immediate way. Not in the way Essex was dangerous with his plotting and gamesmanship. Dangerous now, in this moment.
"Do either of the subjects." She paused, re-approached…"how much data did you capture?"
"As I said…a great deal, but this seemed particularly pertinent…I hope we did not overstep…"
"No." She interrupted him…"You did well. Do not hesitate to use your discretion in the future." She stood to go, but turned suddenly, "Doug…send me the entire file and tell me. Are there any more of these clones running around?"
"So far as I can tell there are two more. One is in a reeducation camp on an island in the Indian Ocean with no official status, but some reports refer to it as Genosha. The other is in hospice in San Margolinas we assume dying from his genetic programing."
She nodded again and left. She tore down the doorways to her office with a giddy excitement she hadn't felt in years. The knowing of secrets had a certain thrill, but there was something special about this…a potential weapon against Essex. She didn't know how but she knew it was there. Somewhere.
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It was early in the morning when she woke him with a gentle nudge. He breathed in deeply, rousing himself from sleep.
"Sorry Cajun. We gotta leave early if we're gonna leave at all."
He stretched and looked at her.
"Why we gotta leave at all?"
"Because people come around here all the time. I got you coffee."
"Can't you just, I don't know, not answer the door?"
"Kurt has the codes, Momma has the codes, Logan has the codes…"
"Who's Logan?"
Anna thought about her answer a little more than he would have liked. "He's a friend of the family…Look, drink your coffee." She shoved it into his hands. "I got us a no-questions-asked shuttle back to your hometown."
"Nawlins?" He sleepily rubbed his eyes.
"Madripoor."
"Oh…right…right." He yawned and stretched one last time. She could only proffer repeated apologies and he waved them off sipping his coffee, hopping out of bed fully dressed. It would feel nice to be back at his apartment. On his turf.
"Do I have time to shower?"
"If you hurry…the weather is picking up."
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They boarded the Queen Rania, the same ship he had rested under while looking for her and settled in for a flight that would be neither long nor short, a few hours on this dedicated passenger shuttle. It was decked out for fancier guests than they but Anna knew the pilot and this was strictly a favor in a time of slow business.
Remy took one of the plush seats opposite Anna and wondered just where their relationship rested just now. She was inexperienced and he doubted she would initiate anything or even know how to invite him without drinking, and that was a crutch he didn't want to get used to using. He was eager to touch her, and be touched by her, but she was giving off neutral vibes right now and he didn't feel like mounting an assault. He felt like having something in his hands to fidget with, to calm him, but he doubted he could smoke in here either.
"So"…he looked her in the eye. "Why can't your Momma know you have a…" he searched for the right word, "social life."
She looked at him. "Because if she thought you were anything more than a random acquaintance you would be investigated."
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What do you mean?"
"I mean…she would investigate you…thoroughly."
"Why."
"You know her name is Raven?"
"Yeah."
"You know her last name is Darkholm?"
"I do now." He said, apparently unimpressed, but he looked away from her quickly.
She seemed surprised by his lack of concern.
"Why…is she famous or something?" He asked, a picture of perfect indifference.
"She's…a politician."
"Oh."
"I don't believe for a second that you don't know who she is."
His eyes darted back to her.
"Why's that p'tit?" He asked with a half-smile.
She regarded him for a moment. "She's on the news all the time… and because you know things. You make a business of knowing things, of being a step ahead. People think your harmless…charming…fun. But you're more than that."
Her tone was half admiration half accusation. She called him a liar and implied it got her going at the same time. He weighed his words. "Alright…I do know about her. She's on the news now and again going on and on about double harvest seasons and climate change and distribution networks for things like fucking cotton and rice. It's all boring as shit." He tried to shift the discussion, ignoring the lie he'd been caught in. "Why would she investigate me…does she think I'm gonna interfere with her rice distribution plan or something."
"She's just…protective is all." Now it was Anna's turn to squirm a little."
"You sure ma Chere? You sure your momma isn't into some dirty business?" He goaded.
"All politicians are dirty." She said quietly.
At least that was something they could agree on.
He stood up and looked down at her smiling, steering the conversation the most effective way he knew how. They were a few feet apart and he closed the distance. She looked clueless, frozen. He bent down, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair and whispered.
"What are we gonna do in Madripoor? Hmm?"
She rolled her eyes. "You know what we're gonna do."
"Do I? I only ever follow your lead Chere and you are all over de map." It was a gentle reproach, deserved or not and she looked at his eyes, sparkling and hungry, and she felt compelled to reach up to the neck of his shirt and pull his face closer until her check rubbed against the stubble of his jaw.
"Maybe I don't know where I'm going…maybe I need a navigator." She whispered.
He paused. Her comment was blatantly flirtatious but as prepossessed as she could seem it was easy to forget her innocence and he wondered if he should leave her be, let her eventually figure out that her engine mechanic wanted to be her valentine instead of taking what she seemed to be offering with no strings attached…but there were strings attached. A girl like her had strings. And against his better judgment he pried…"I can navigate, no problem…but the best navigator in de universe still needs to know where you wanna go."
He already regretted saying it and she gave the best answer he could hope for under the circumstances.
"I don't know where I wanna go."
He hitched a lopsided smile and let a breath out, tickling her ear, and then, just to shut himself up, and because he wanted to, he pulled back far enough to let his lips meet hers. She melted, her lips fit to his and she kissed him back timidly, not a trace of the bold, tipsy girl from the night before except for the hand grasping his shirt and holding him near. He shifted to kiss her more deeply but the gravity of the ship shifted as well, indicating that they were making their descent. He withdrew to his chair and smiled at her. She, however, seemed suddenly sheepish, suffused with blush and disoriented.
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Is it LeBeau or Le Beau.
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