DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BUT MY WORDS
Note: Sorry for the wait! Still working out the kinks and "what if's" of the next sequence of events (PTSD is hard to write for!) but there should be some good stuff coming out soon enough. SO BRACE YOURSELVES and Enjoy;D
Chapter 29: Going Home
I fidget in the seat beside Azazel, staring nervously out the window with growing apprehension. I pick at the arm rests with my fingers. I had to file my nails down because I keep clawing at my arms whenever I space-out. I don't want to go back. I just want to lay down and go to sleep for a very long time.
Another seventeen years, perhaps.
Azazel rests a hand over mine and I look down to see that I've stripped the foam off of one of the arm rests. I bite my lip and fold my trembling hands in my lap. The thought of having to go back, to see everyone, and explain everything that's happened…
I don't know if I can do it.
I don't have long, however, to think on it because in no time we're here. But at least I'm not the only one a little hesitant to go inside. Azazel vaguely expressed his worries about meeting his biological son for the first time, but I have the feeling it will be okay. Kurt wants to know more about his father. And Azazel never even knew he had a son (that or the memory was wiped along with the last seventeen years). But when I told Azazel about how Kurt had asked about him a few times, I noticed his mood brighten considerably.
I think they'll take to each other just fine.
"You're doing it again," Azazel informs me as the jet lands in the landing bay of the Institute, where the Professor and everyone else no doubt wait for our arrival. We notified them we would be coming a little while after we got on the jet, and according to Azazel (who made the call seeing as I wasn't quite ready for that), everyone was eagerly awaiting our return. I lift my hands to see I've begun to tear at the seat again.
I smile sheepishly at him, then resume my lip chewing and shakily get to my feet. We both hesitate at the ramp before meeting each other's eye. Azazel gives me a reassuring smirk and says, "You face down big, scary Russians but pasty Americans scare you?"
"I don't see you rushing out to face the music!" I retort with a snort, then take a breath and square my shoulders resolutely, "Let's go."
The second I get off the ramp, my confidence wanes as I'm faced once again with the crushing reality of what the next few days are going to look like. The second we're off the jet, Erik lifts his mouth from his hands, where his elbows rest on his knees, Logan stands up faster than lightning, while the Professor, Storm, and Hank stare at us with beaming smiles, and Emma rushes towards us, saying, "Thank God you're alright!" She wraps me in a tight embrace as my stomach gives an uncomfortable turn. "We tried to get to you but they wouldn't let us enter their airspaces. We were just going to fly over anyway but…"
Her words trail off and I brace myself as her eyes study my face closely. I can feel her mind brush against mine as her telepathy uncovers something dark hidden within my subconscious, but I don't push her out. Her voice is low and grim, "What's happened?"
I look from her to the rest of the group. I don't see Tabitha or Dimitri or any of the kids. "Where are the others?" I ask, purposely avoiding her question. "Is Tabitha alright?"
"Some of the other students are…still on vacation," Hank says, noticing the shift in the air. Already their looking at me like some wounded deer and I haven't even told them anything yet. "We told the others to wait upstairs. Tabitha is still in Sydney, recovering."
"So she's alright?" I murmur and Emma and a few others nod in confirmation. A wave of happiness overwhelms me and I smile and laugh in relief. She's alright. She'll live.
"And what about you?" Emma probes further, catching my eye swiftly. "You both seem…different somehow."
I exchange a glance with Azazel then sigh as the weight I've been fighting to fling from my shoulders bears down on me once more. "Things are going to be…a bit different for a while." I say illusively. "For me, that is." My hand goes to my cheek absently, "I just need some time to work things out."
"You were gone for three days, my dear," Erik speaks up for the first time; his gaze is cool and steady, but piercing. "Yet you speak as though you've been gone for years." He raises his eye brows, his hands clasped behind his back impressively, "Russia must have left quite a strong impression on you."
They look at me expectantly. They want answers and I don't blame them, but…I just can't seem to say it.
But Azazel can.
"We ran into problems with Russian mafia."
Wow. Good job? I guess..
There's a general outcry of disbelief as the blunt statement circulates throughout the room but one voice carries above the others, "What happened?" Storm asks, her hand at the necklace Angel gave her so long ago. Or rather, not too long ago. My breathing shortens as I fight to explain, but again, I can't seem to get the words out—
"We were briefly held captive by Grigori Vahkrov; known mob boss, extremely dangerous. We managed to escape. And now we are here." My gratefulness to Azazel's short and sweet explanation is overshadowed by the group's collectively unconvinced response:
Silence.
"There's something you're not telling us," Emma says softly. "Isn't there?"
When even Azazel finds it difficult to continue on, looking to me like he honeslty doesn't know what to say, I finally find the courage to say what I've been thinking over and over again ever since I saw the look of relief mixed with sorrow on Mrs. Vahkrov's face, "I murdered Grigori Vahkrov."
Sinister sat by her bedside once more, his fingers entwined before him as he stared unblinkingly at her vital signs. Her heart rate was steady, her blood pressure healthy. Everything seemed to indicate that she was fine. He got up at last, stiff from watching and waiting, and began pacing. Something had gone wrong, he just knew it. She had come dangerously close to being killed. His precious discovery had almost been wiped from the earth before she could come to her senses. And in turn come to him.
He had begun noticing the fluctuations in her vitals on the day that he sent Razor out to watch over her. The day the MRD's tried to abduct her. He wasn't having any of that. Then again, on Christmas Day, her heart rate spiked to alarming rates several times. But it was nothing compared to the night after that, when her heart rate and blood pressure hit dangerous levels. Something had definitely happened that night. Something that could have ended her life a second time. And then he wasn't sure if she would have come back after that.
He couldn't risk it again.
He could no longer wait for her to decide to come to him. She would make her choice on his terms. As soon as his spies came back with the right Intel—
And the right incentive.
"No."
"If you would just let me look—"
"No!"
"Listen to her, Elizabeth. We only want to help you."
"I'm not doing it!" I snap at the Professor, swatting Emma's hands away from my temples as the room becomes painfully crowded. I'm close to tears but after my confession, no one is willing to let me just disappear into my room. Not unless I literally disappear and make a run for it. "I don't want to do this today, alright? I just want to take a nap and forget about it."
"But you won't just forget about it." Emma insists, sitting across from me with an impatient frown marring her perfect face. "That's what I've been trying to tell you!" She reaches out a cautious hand. "I promise I won't go too far."
"Emma, please," I say at last, catching her wrist, my angry tone turning to a fragile, pleading one. "I can't right now. Unless you intend on wiping the memories…" I say hopefully but the Professor shakes his head and says, "We do not know what we are dealing with. But from what Azazel tells us, it is very serious and should be handled immediately."
"I've been handling it!"
"Not too well, apparently." Logan interjects and I shoot an accusatory glare at first him, then at Azazel.
"How much did you tell them?" I ask, feeling slightly betrayed.
"What they needed to know." Azazel replies stonily, crossing his arms where he stand a little ways behind Emma. "You frightened me, the way you were acting. I told them about the nightmares and the clawing."
"It's. Nothing!" I tell them with over-emphasis, folding my hands as the urge to scrape resurfaces. "I'll work it out. In my own time. Now just…leave me alone. Please."
"At least let me take a quick look around," Emma says persuasively. "As a sort of diagnosis. Just to get an idea of what we're dealing with." She leans forward as I chew on my lip in thought. "Please, Elizabeth. Let us help you."
They're not going to let this go.
I nod my reluctant consent and sit still as Emma brings her fingers up to my temple once more, sitting across from me in one of the large chairs of the Professor's study. She closes her eyes and I, hesitantly, do the same. The moment she enters my mind, I feel invaded and a wall comes up like an iron gate, barring her from getting anywhere near my dark secret.
" 'You have to let me in, Elizabeth.' "
" 'I'm trying.' " And it's true. I really, really am, but I just. Can't. Do it. What will they think of me when they find out what I've done? I'm sure half of them have killed someone at least once in their lives (I know for certain Azazel, Emma, and Erik have), but in the way that I have? Possessing someone, accessing their most personal thoughts and feelings, and then forcing them to kill themselves…
It's beyond cruel.
But before I can withdraw from her telepathic snare, Emma is phasing right through that wall that guards my secret and a barrage of memories so powerful assault me with renewed terror. In flashes, I'm teleporting to Russia, uncertain and wary of Azazel. And then I'm meeting Grigori, smelling his rancid handkerchief as he stares down at me. Then, in a blinding streak of light, his hand is up my skirt and I'm crying out in fear as we're dancing and Azazel leaves me while Grigori's whispering in my ear and I'm running and falling and he's dragging me away and he's trying to drug me and I'm screaming as he—
"STOP!"
I boot Emma out of my head with more force than I intended and she falls backward and into the desk of the professor's study, sending a number of his office supplies crashing to the ground. The familiar sound sends me into a panic; my stomach lurches and I jump out of my seat, intending to run away, when I run right into Logan. I let out a scream, not realizing it's him at first, and he grips me by the arms urgently, asking, "What is it? What's wrong?"
I meet his eye wildly as the others try to help a dazed Emma up from the ground. I shake my head, shaking all over and turn to look at Emma. We lock eyes and I can see that look; that look Azazel gave me the night I told him about Grigori's advances. The shock, the pity. The damned pity...She's looking at me like I'm an entirely different person, and she hasn't even gotten to the worst part yet. I whirl around, tears in my eyes, and phase through Logan as he tries to stop me only to be confronted with Azazel.
" 'Don't tell them.' " I plead with him telepathically. " 'Please, don't.' "
Then I phase through him as well as the door and out into the hall.
And nearly die of a heart attack when I find Rogue and Scott sitting out in the hall way with their ears pressed against the door. "What's wrong?" Rogue asks as she and Scott get to their feet. I shake my head, unable to speak, and then turn on my heel and take off down the hallway towards my room.
"What the hell happened back there?!"
"I cannot tell you."
"Why the hell not?"
"She has asked me to keep my silence. She will tell you when she is ready."
"You could tell us right now and save us all a lot of trouble."
"Is that all she is to you? Trouble? She needs time. Space. Not you to force her to relive this pain over again!"
"We're trying to help her—"
"You're going to break her if you're not careful!"
"You can say that? When this is your fault—!"
"What?!"
"If you hadn't taken her to Russia in the first place—!"
"That was no fault of his, Logan," Magneto interjected at last, growing tired of seeing the two go at it. At first, he was mildly amused, but his concern for Ms. Hawthorne (his latest conquest) outweighed his interest to see which of the two would win in a death match. "I'm afraid the blame rests with myself and my accomplice: Blink."
"All that matters," Logan said gruffly as he squared up to the red demon before him, a vein in his temple pulsing with rage. "Is that she gets better. For her sake and for Tabitha's."
"What has she got to do with—?" Azazel began to interject, incredulously.
"It has everything to do with Elizabeth!" Logan shouted in disbelief. "Tabitha needs her now more than ever."
"Oh, so you sacrifice her happiness for the girl's?"
"Quiet, both of you!" Storm stepped forward, getting between the two men with her arms outstretched. They looked about two seconds away from breaking out in a fight to the death. "They both need us right now. But I agree with Azazel. I believe Elizabeth is not ready to confront her fears just yet."
"I…agree." The Professor said solemnly. The wave of emotion that had overcome Elizabeth had been so powerful he felt it in his bones. He could sense guilt, shame, fear, apprehension, and an overwhelming grief all converge at once with out the need of a mental probe. He knew it would be a long while before she would tell them the truth of her own accord. Forcing it from her would only set her back and damage the trust between herself and her colleagues.
"In my experience," Hank said matter-of-factly, removing his glasses from his pocket to place them neatly over his eyes. "The only way to get better is to face your fears, not run from them."
"Thank you, Hank." Said Logan irritably, glaring up into the pale eyes of the much taller mutant, a growl caught in his throat. His knuckles ached for impact.
"Emma?" Erik said, snapping the telepath out of her daze. She had been in Elizabeth's mind. Perhaps she could shed some light on the girl's mental state. "What say you?"
Emma thought about this long and hard, then she turned her weary eyes to the group and said sagely, "I think there is something that you all should know before we make any sort of decision. Elizabeth's mind is a mine field of traumatic memories. Crossing one of them sets off all of them. From what I can gather, she has gone through a tremendous ordeal in a short period of time; one that cannot be fixed in a day or even a week or a month. And trying to solve the problem telepathically could only worsen her condition."
"Condition?" Logan repeated sarcastically, trying to hide the twist in his gut at what her words suggested. It didn't take a genius or a mind reader to guess what likely happened. He just didn't want to. He could imagine something like that...and to have it happen to her. It was too much to even consider a possibility. Of course, he couldn't know what actually happened. But the mere ambiguity of it was that much worse, as it left him—left them all—to their imaginations. "You act like she's suicidal or something."
When Emma just looked at him, Logan grew enraged and, having no one else to take his anger out on, turned on Azazel once more, "What did you do to her?!"
Azazel's reply could not have been worded any worse as he looked down his nose at Wolverine and said slowly, deliberately, "What you could not."
The sound of scraping metal filled the room as Azazel drew his long swords to fend off against Logan's adamantium claws, which emerged with a shink! The two metals clashed with a thunderous clatter, each man staring into one another's eyes with the intent to maim or perhaps even kill.
"Wanna run that by me again?" Logan challenged while Erik rolled his eyes and everyone else stood by nervously, hoping they wouldn't have a blood bath on their hands.
"I stayed by her side." Grunted Azazel, incensed. "I was there where you could not be."
Azazel's swords groaned under the pressure of Logan's much stronger claws, "You put her in danger!"
"I did what I could—"
It only took the wave of Erik's hand to end the would-be fight. Azazel's swords were wrenched out of his grasp and positioned at his throat instead, and Logan himself was restrained on the opposite end of the room, held back by his adamantium prison. The Professor let out an audible sigh and the tension drained from the room. "I think, perhaps," Erik said slowly, eyeing both men sternly. "That we should discuss this later on, after we've all had a chance to mull things over a bit, wouldn't you say, Charles?" He added with a glint in his eye as he observed his old friend, looking troubled as always.
Charles gave a sigh of relief, "I couldn't agree more."
As I lay down in my bed, I slide my finger nails across the back of my hand, leaving a straight line indenting the skin, but not cutting it. The pain is refreshing, diverting, but not entirely self-harming. I haven't drawn my own blood since that night in the shower; a memory that makes my cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Azazel said I'd scared him.
Was I really that far gone? I hadn't noticed. I can hardly remember anything that happened after I killed Grigori and spoke with his mother. All I remember is flames burning high, a long drive, and a deep sleep filled with terrors that I wish I couldn't remember. I'm tired as all hell, but I really don't want to go to sleep. The last nightmare had left me shaken and paranoid, and while I don't remember all of it, I do remember that Creed had been there, too. Why is that? Is it because of the fact that I had been out for his blood the very night of my first (and hopefully last) murder?
That's probably it.
…I want to see Tabitha.
Like I said, more to come soon. Thanks for your patience!
~THESCRIBE!
