Seventeen Years and 58 Seconds
Chapter 10
Don't think I didn't cry. Oh yes, I did. The drive back to New York was a long boring drive with little for me to do except sing sad love songs and cry at the bittersweet nature of my 'relationship' with Logan. Sometimes I thought I could still feel his arms around me. When I pulled into the school compound several days later, I was resolved to accept how we'd left things.
Several things happened when I returned to the school. I was met by the professor and Scott as I got out of the Jeep. I gave them a brief summary of my trip and told them Logan wouldn't be coming back any time soon. I talked with the professor, then about my hopes for my skin and Siren. If I was going to have any chance to succeeding in finding a 'cure', I'd need the professor's help and resources. To my relief, he agreed with my basic theory and promised to help me.
"And Jean? She'd be glad to help -"
"No thank you, Professor." I said quickly.
"But she's a doctor, she could-"
"*NO* thank you, Professor." I looked at the professor intently. Surely a man with his gifts must know my feelings about Jean.
"Alright, if you say so. I have friends at some hospitals who might be able to help you."
"Thank you."
I went back to my room, showered and changed clothes, and went directly to the medical lab to get started. Stupid me, I should have known I'd run into Jean.
I wanted to be polite so I nodded to her, but continued with my task of looking through some medical books. Jean, being Jean, couldn't leave things well enough alone.
"Marie, you're back! How did it go?" I looked up from my reading and shrugged slightly.
"Pretty good. I found him. We talked."
"Oh that's good. So he's ok, then?" I nodded and returned to reading. "He didn't come back with you? I'm surprised. I thought he'd be back ... come back ..."
"No"
I went back to reading, hoping she'd shut up and leave me alone. She was quiet for a moment and then I felt a prickling, itching sensation inside my head. My eyes flew up to Jean where I saw her 'concentrating' on me - trying to read my thoughts!
I stood slowly, my eyes glued to her. She stopped when she saw me advancing toward her. I tapped my right temple and shook my head.
"What do you think you're doing?"
As I walked toward her, my anger grew. "How DARE you try to invade my thoughts. Didn't the professor teach you better?"
A metal stool was in my way so I casually picked it up and crushed it like a soda can. Now, suddenly, Jean must have begun to fear me, because she lashed out with her mind to hold me in my tracks, to stop me from hurting her. But I kept on talking, my anger boiling over.
"Do you want to know what your problem is, Jean? You think the grass is always greener on the other side. You HAD Scott, but that wasn't enough for you. No, you had to come on to Logan and see if you could 'get' him too. You have your own mental abilities, but you couldn't resist augmenting them, pushing them farther than you were meant to with Cerebro."
"That's rich coming from someone who STOLE her powers from another mutant!" Her eyes were wide and she struggled to continue to hold me.
"Jealous, Jean? You're jealous again, aren't you? What happened with Siren was an accident, everyone knows that .. but you, you deliberatly find ways boost your powers. You'd sell your soul to be the most powerful mutant, wouldn't you?"
I paused, knowing the strain of her mental hold was becoming too much for her.
"You really want to know about Logan, isn't that right? You, who can't be happy with the adoration of just one man. You wanted to read my mind and find out if he has feelings for you, right?"
Unable to sustain the energy, she dropped the mental barrier. She was gasping, exhausted as I stepped closer.
"If you want to know what Logan wants and feels, go find him. Go talk to him yourself. Don't go creeping around my head. 'Cause if you do that again ... all bets are off. I WILL break you. Got it?"
I poked her shoulder lightly, then turned my back on her to walk back to the desk. I knew she was seething with anger, but so was I. Something about Jean has rubbed me the wrong way from day 1 and I wasn't about to back down from her now that I had the means to protect myself. I picked up my books and walked out casually, her eyes drilling into my back the entire time.
Jean and I will never be comfortable around each other now, but I couldn't be bothered with that now. Before any medical research could begin, the professor had to extract Siren's personality from my head. It was not easy, it wasn't without pain, and when she was out, I realized I missed her. She had a steely resolve and courage that I admired. She was confident and self-assured. She also hated me. At first.
Once back in her own body, Siren recovered slowly, working her way out of the coma day by day. When she was conscious again, she tried to spit in my face. I didn't blame her. The professor is working with her, counseling her, and slowly her anger at me has subdued somewhat. She is no longer a mutant, thanks to me. She's lost her idenity. The professor has asked her to stay at the school anyway and she's agreed. Unlike Jean, I hope one day to be friends with Siren.
Time passed and aside from the occasional 'tensions' with Jean, my research came along nicely. I knew the Professor had shown other people ways to control their powers with mental ability, but that sort of control wouldn't work with me. When your skin touches something, your brain receives and interprets the signal in fractions of a second. It's an automactic response and one I didn't want to control. I *want* to feel things, I don't want to block all of my sensations from my skin. No, we're talking about controlling and altering my DNA. You can't do that with your mind, no matter how hard you try. Besides, I don't want to be fighting something when I'm touching Logan. I want to give myself over entirely to the sensations and not have to worry about my control slipping. No, my hope lies in medicine, not mind control.
The research has revealed the following to me: There are three basic layers of skin and the layers are in a constant state of replenishment from underneath. The bottom layer of skin is pushed up as the top layers flake off or are rubbed off. In our research, we determined that the top layer, mostly dead, wasn't the carrier of the DNA signal. We had to assume then, it was either the bottom or the middle layer.
Medical research is difficult enough to begin with, but remember, my skin is now nearly impervious - that means needles and knives can't make a dent. I can't even offer up a skin sample, only the dead skin cells that flake off during the day. Whenever we wanted to test something, it's all or nothing on my entire body.
In the months that passed, I also worked to become a full-fledged member of the X-men. In between my medical research, I trained with other members to harness my new skills and make then work most effectively. I enjoyed the physical exersion and began to feel like I was a part of the team. Jean was suspiciously absent when I worked out ... but I didn't care.
Logan managed to call me every now and again, and I treasured each call. I tried to memorize them, the inflections of his voice, his jokes, his laugh. During one of his calls, he introduced me to the delicious notion of phone sex. It started out innocently enough when he asked what I was doing. I told him I was in bed, which was true, and he made a noise of pleasure that rippled through me as well.
"What are you wearing, Marie?" he asked. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the bed. His rich rumbling voice alone was enough to stir my body and when he said my name, I knew I was gone. How could I not touch myself when his voice urged me and my mind raced with thoughts of him doing the same?
Our 'special' phone calls always lifted my spirits and made my other tasks easier to bear - the X-men work was getting harder. We were getting more and more information about an anti-mutant organization called Americans for Purity. They believe mutants are an abomination of God's image and in dire need of purging off the planet. They had no tolerance for us and were growing increasing violent.
Everything went to hell when we heard they had kidnapped some children. A young brother and sister they suspected were mutants. The Americans for Purity had followed them home from school and plucked them right off the street. We didn't know where they were and were afraid of what they'd do to the children.
I volunteered to go undercover to a bar some of the members were rumored to hang out. The professor was worried about my safety but I just brushed aside his fears.
"They can't hurt me, Professor, but they can hurt those kids."
I dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a shirt that could have stood some more buttons and parked myself in the bar. I laughed to myself thinking about the last time I'd been in a sleezy bar. Oh, where was Logan now? What would he think about what I'm about to do?
When I recognized the suspect, it wasn't difficult to get him to buy me some drinks. I took a big chance not wearing gloves but I couldn't risk the suspect thinking I had something to hide. Luckily, he didn't register too high up on the intelligence meter and was easily distracted by some well-supported mammory glands. I casually suggested he might want to give me a ride and he was more than eager to help me out. What a guy.
His pickup truck, decorated with Purity flags and other non-tolerance themed stickers, had a shotgun over the bench seat. I made note of it, but wasn't too worried. I asked, casually, if there was some place quiet we could go. Thinking with his 'big' brain, he pulled the truck off the road into some trees and positioned himself for some 'lovin.'
I convinced him we'd have more room out on the ground and after a moment of hesitation, he agreed. I noted a knife on his belt. Casually, I laughed at his joke about how big he was and without missing a beat, I pulled about a 9mm handgun from under my shirt. He wasn't taking me serious as I ordered him onto the ground, so I used the butt of the gun against his shoulder and kicked his legs out from under him. I was determined not to use my mutant abilities against him. I couldn't let him report that a mutant had attacked him - that would only add more fuel to their hatred of us.
He assumed the position - on his knees, back to me, hands behind his head - and started to question me.
"I'll ask the questions. Where are kids?"
"What? What are you talkin' about?"
"I'm not good with repeating myself," I cocked the gun, "so listen carefully. Where are the kids? Brian and Sarah."
He started cursing me, calling me every slur he could think of. Mutie-lover was my favorite. I pushed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.
"You're talking a lot but not saying what I want to hear."
He told me to do something physically impossible and then he shut up. I sighed.
"Ok, the hard way. I'm going to introduce you to a level of pain you never knew existed. Shall we start with the legs?" I fired one round into his upper left thigh. He clutched the wound with both hands and started swearing profusely.
"I *will* find them, you know ... but it would be a lot quicker if you told me now. I won't waste my time asking you a second time."
Another bout of swearing. I fired a round into his upper right thigh. He rolled on his side, swearing, cursing, trying to stem the flow of blood.
I crouched down behind him.
"You're loyal, that's commendable. But I'm on a mission and your loyalty means nothing to me." I used the tip of the barrel of my gun to lift the back of his shirt. I pressed the barrel of the gun against his spine.
"Do you feel that? In about eight seconds, you won't. The bullet will shatter your spinal column. You won't feel anything below your chest - not your legs, not your feet, not even your dick."
He broke then, like I knew he would and begged me not to shoot. He started babbling, telling me where they had the kids. He told me how many there were, how many guns they had. He swore the kids were still alive.
I raised the gun and cracked it along the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. The professor would definately not approve of my methods. What a break he'll never find out. I picked up the now unconscious body, put it in the truck and drove it to the closest hospital. I honked the horn to get someone's attention, then disappeared in the night sky. I radioed back to the Professor where the kids were.
We rescued the kids without harm to them and returned them to their parents.
Some days, you're glad to be one of the good guys. Some days, you hope you can remember what makes a good guy.
--
Chapter 10
Don't think I didn't cry. Oh yes, I did. The drive back to New York was a long boring drive with little for me to do except sing sad love songs and cry at the bittersweet nature of my 'relationship' with Logan. Sometimes I thought I could still feel his arms around me. When I pulled into the school compound several days later, I was resolved to accept how we'd left things.
Several things happened when I returned to the school. I was met by the professor and Scott as I got out of the Jeep. I gave them a brief summary of my trip and told them Logan wouldn't be coming back any time soon. I talked with the professor, then about my hopes for my skin and Siren. If I was going to have any chance to succeeding in finding a 'cure', I'd need the professor's help and resources. To my relief, he agreed with my basic theory and promised to help me.
"And Jean? She'd be glad to help -"
"No thank you, Professor." I said quickly.
"But she's a doctor, she could-"
"*NO* thank you, Professor." I looked at the professor intently. Surely a man with his gifts must know my feelings about Jean.
"Alright, if you say so. I have friends at some hospitals who might be able to help you."
"Thank you."
I went back to my room, showered and changed clothes, and went directly to the medical lab to get started. Stupid me, I should have known I'd run into Jean.
I wanted to be polite so I nodded to her, but continued with my task of looking through some medical books. Jean, being Jean, couldn't leave things well enough alone.
"Marie, you're back! How did it go?" I looked up from my reading and shrugged slightly.
"Pretty good. I found him. We talked."
"Oh that's good. So he's ok, then?" I nodded and returned to reading. "He didn't come back with you? I'm surprised. I thought he'd be back ... come back ..."
"No"
I went back to reading, hoping she'd shut up and leave me alone. She was quiet for a moment and then I felt a prickling, itching sensation inside my head. My eyes flew up to Jean where I saw her 'concentrating' on me - trying to read my thoughts!
I stood slowly, my eyes glued to her. She stopped when she saw me advancing toward her. I tapped my right temple and shook my head.
"What do you think you're doing?"
As I walked toward her, my anger grew. "How DARE you try to invade my thoughts. Didn't the professor teach you better?"
A metal stool was in my way so I casually picked it up and crushed it like a soda can. Now, suddenly, Jean must have begun to fear me, because she lashed out with her mind to hold me in my tracks, to stop me from hurting her. But I kept on talking, my anger boiling over.
"Do you want to know what your problem is, Jean? You think the grass is always greener on the other side. You HAD Scott, but that wasn't enough for you. No, you had to come on to Logan and see if you could 'get' him too. You have your own mental abilities, but you couldn't resist augmenting them, pushing them farther than you were meant to with Cerebro."
"That's rich coming from someone who STOLE her powers from another mutant!" Her eyes were wide and she struggled to continue to hold me.
"Jealous, Jean? You're jealous again, aren't you? What happened with Siren was an accident, everyone knows that .. but you, you deliberatly find ways boost your powers. You'd sell your soul to be the most powerful mutant, wouldn't you?"
I paused, knowing the strain of her mental hold was becoming too much for her.
"You really want to know about Logan, isn't that right? You, who can't be happy with the adoration of just one man. You wanted to read my mind and find out if he has feelings for you, right?"
Unable to sustain the energy, she dropped the mental barrier. She was gasping, exhausted as I stepped closer.
"If you want to know what Logan wants and feels, go find him. Go talk to him yourself. Don't go creeping around my head. 'Cause if you do that again ... all bets are off. I WILL break you. Got it?"
I poked her shoulder lightly, then turned my back on her to walk back to the desk. I knew she was seething with anger, but so was I. Something about Jean has rubbed me the wrong way from day 1 and I wasn't about to back down from her now that I had the means to protect myself. I picked up my books and walked out casually, her eyes drilling into my back the entire time.
Jean and I will never be comfortable around each other now, but I couldn't be bothered with that now. Before any medical research could begin, the professor had to extract Siren's personality from my head. It was not easy, it wasn't without pain, and when she was out, I realized I missed her. She had a steely resolve and courage that I admired. She was confident and self-assured. She also hated me. At first.
Once back in her own body, Siren recovered slowly, working her way out of the coma day by day. When she was conscious again, she tried to spit in my face. I didn't blame her. The professor is working with her, counseling her, and slowly her anger at me has subdued somewhat. She is no longer a mutant, thanks to me. She's lost her idenity. The professor has asked her to stay at the school anyway and she's agreed. Unlike Jean, I hope one day to be friends with Siren.
Time passed and aside from the occasional 'tensions' with Jean, my research came along nicely. I knew the Professor had shown other people ways to control their powers with mental ability, but that sort of control wouldn't work with me. When your skin touches something, your brain receives and interprets the signal in fractions of a second. It's an automactic response and one I didn't want to control. I *want* to feel things, I don't want to block all of my sensations from my skin. No, we're talking about controlling and altering my DNA. You can't do that with your mind, no matter how hard you try. Besides, I don't want to be fighting something when I'm touching Logan. I want to give myself over entirely to the sensations and not have to worry about my control slipping. No, my hope lies in medicine, not mind control.
The research has revealed the following to me: There are three basic layers of skin and the layers are in a constant state of replenishment from underneath. The bottom layer of skin is pushed up as the top layers flake off or are rubbed off. In our research, we determined that the top layer, mostly dead, wasn't the carrier of the DNA signal. We had to assume then, it was either the bottom or the middle layer.
Medical research is difficult enough to begin with, but remember, my skin is now nearly impervious - that means needles and knives can't make a dent. I can't even offer up a skin sample, only the dead skin cells that flake off during the day. Whenever we wanted to test something, it's all or nothing on my entire body.
In the months that passed, I also worked to become a full-fledged member of the X-men. In between my medical research, I trained with other members to harness my new skills and make then work most effectively. I enjoyed the physical exersion and began to feel like I was a part of the team. Jean was suspiciously absent when I worked out ... but I didn't care.
Logan managed to call me every now and again, and I treasured each call. I tried to memorize them, the inflections of his voice, his jokes, his laugh. During one of his calls, he introduced me to the delicious notion of phone sex. It started out innocently enough when he asked what I was doing. I told him I was in bed, which was true, and he made a noise of pleasure that rippled through me as well.
"What are you wearing, Marie?" he asked. I closed my eyes and leaned back in the bed. His rich rumbling voice alone was enough to stir my body and when he said my name, I knew I was gone. How could I not touch myself when his voice urged me and my mind raced with thoughts of him doing the same?
Our 'special' phone calls always lifted my spirits and made my other tasks easier to bear - the X-men work was getting harder. We were getting more and more information about an anti-mutant organization called Americans for Purity. They believe mutants are an abomination of God's image and in dire need of purging off the planet. They had no tolerance for us and were growing increasing violent.
Everything went to hell when we heard they had kidnapped some children. A young brother and sister they suspected were mutants. The Americans for Purity had followed them home from school and plucked them right off the street. We didn't know where they were and were afraid of what they'd do to the children.
I volunteered to go undercover to a bar some of the members were rumored to hang out. The professor was worried about my safety but I just brushed aside his fears.
"They can't hurt me, Professor, but they can hurt those kids."
I dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a shirt that could have stood some more buttons and parked myself in the bar. I laughed to myself thinking about the last time I'd been in a sleezy bar. Oh, where was Logan now? What would he think about what I'm about to do?
When I recognized the suspect, it wasn't difficult to get him to buy me some drinks. I took a big chance not wearing gloves but I couldn't risk the suspect thinking I had something to hide. Luckily, he didn't register too high up on the intelligence meter and was easily distracted by some well-supported mammory glands. I casually suggested he might want to give me a ride and he was more than eager to help me out. What a guy.
His pickup truck, decorated with Purity flags and other non-tolerance themed stickers, had a shotgun over the bench seat. I made note of it, but wasn't too worried. I asked, casually, if there was some place quiet we could go. Thinking with his 'big' brain, he pulled the truck off the road into some trees and positioned himself for some 'lovin.'
I convinced him we'd have more room out on the ground and after a moment of hesitation, he agreed. I noted a knife on his belt. Casually, I laughed at his joke about how big he was and without missing a beat, I pulled about a 9mm handgun from under my shirt. He wasn't taking me serious as I ordered him onto the ground, so I used the butt of the gun against his shoulder and kicked his legs out from under him. I was determined not to use my mutant abilities against him. I couldn't let him report that a mutant had attacked him - that would only add more fuel to their hatred of us.
He assumed the position - on his knees, back to me, hands behind his head - and started to question me.
"I'll ask the questions. Where are kids?"
"What? What are you talkin' about?"
"I'm not good with repeating myself," I cocked the gun, "so listen carefully. Where are the kids? Brian and Sarah."
He started cursing me, calling me every slur he could think of. Mutie-lover was my favorite. I pushed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head.
"You're talking a lot but not saying what I want to hear."
He told me to do something physically impossible and then he shut up. I sighed.
"Ok, the hard way. I'm going to introduce you to a level of pain you never knew existed. Shall we start with the legs?" I fired one round into his upper left thigh. He clutched the wound with both hands and started swearing profusely.
"I *will* find them, you know ... but it would be a lot quicker if you told me now. I won't waste my time asking you a second time."
Another bout of swearing. I fired a round into his upper right thigh. He rolled on his side, swearing, cursing, trying to stem the flow of blood.
I crouched down behind him.
"You're loyal, that's commendable. But I'm on a mission and your loyalty means nothing to me." I used the tip of the barrel of my gun to lift the back of his shirt. I pressed the barrel of the gun against his spine.
"Do you feel that? In about eight seconds, you won't. The bullet will shatter your spinal column. You won't feel anything below your chest - not your legs, not your feet, not even your dick."
He broke then, like I knew he would and begged me not to shoot. He started babbling, telling me where they had the kids. He told me how many there were, how many guns they had. He swore the kids were still alive.
I raised the gun and cracked it along the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. The professor would definately not approve of my methods. What a break he'll never find out. I picked up the now unconscious body, put it in the truck and drove it to the closest hospital. I honked the horn to get someone's attention, then disappeared in the night sky. I radioed back to the Professor where the kids were.
We rescued the kids without harm to them and returned them to their parents.
Some days, you're glad to be one of the good guys. Some days, you hope you can remember what makes a good guy.
--