Clinging to Falling Angels Chapter 6

"You have a nice place here," Tristan said as Logan showed him around the grounds of the X-Mansion.

"Yeah, I've always liked it," Logan replied. "I lived here when I was younger and I moved back a few months ago."

Tristan looked at her. "Well, it's nice. It's been a long time since I've seen anything so beautiful." Logan blushed, realizing he was not talking solely about the gardens. "So tell me, Logan, what did you do in your time before returning to the mansion?" Tristan asked her.

Logan shrugged. "Not much, really. I just lived with my parents and went to school until Paige decided to reform the X-Men."

Tristan gave her an incredulous look. "Logan, I've seen you fight. You're amazing. And you're claws—they're made of metal! That doesn't suggest a boring life."

"I can fight that way because of my father."

"The one they call 'Wolverine?'"

Logan sighed. "Yeah, him. He taught me just about everything he knows so I'd be able to take care of myself. By the time I turned fourteen I'd already been kidnapped three times."

"By whom?"

"Two of the times were by a guy named Sabretooth. He'd probably still be after me if he was alive. The third time was by a group calling itself the new Weapon X program." Logan unsheathed her claws. "That's where I got these."

"You were able to stay strong after all that?" Tristan asked.

"Other people have had worse happen to them," Logan replied. "And there's no use in clutching to past sufferings."

"That is admirable," Tristan said. "So many people are weak and shed tears for things long since come and gone."

Logan tried to push away her sudden feeling of guilt at the thought of how she'd reacted when Ric had left her. "I take it you aren't one of the weak ones," she said.

"No."

"What was your life like before you came here?" Logan asked.

"I have already pushed it from my mind."

Logan frowned. "You said before that the Dark One killed all your friends. How do you just forget about that?"

"Remembering the past clouds the present."

"What, only the present? Not the future, too?" Logan asked, her voice tinted with sarcasm.

"The future is not guaranteed."

Logan sighed. "Look, I understand the need to put the more painful aspects of your past behind you, but forgetting it completely? You can't do that, Tristan!"

"Why? If I remember my past, then I will be remembering mainly pain, and I don't have time for that."

"Then you have to make time! You can't truly move on until you've made peace with your past sufferings, and you can't do that unless you've given yourself time to grieve!"

Tristan's expression grew darker, and Logan could almost feel the sadness in his eyes. "I was orphaned as a small child and taken in by a nomadic tribe of warriors who had dedicated their entire existence to battling the Dark One. We would travel from place to place in a never-ending struggle to defeat him once and for all. With them, I had a family, and with my beloved Maritheza, I had happiness. In the last battle between my people and the Dark One we were not victorious. We had thought that that would be his final day, but instead my whole tribe—my family, my beloved—was killed. The Dark One allowed only me to survive, so I could be a testament to his power, and forced me to forever wander as the fallen Dark Angel. My people died. It is my shame. I cannot shed tears for that."

"But can't you see, Tristan, you aren't shamed!" Logan said. "Even after you've lost everything, you continue to fight. You do less for their memory by trying to forget them."

Tristan looked away from her. "Mari would not want me to suffer."

"She wouldn't want you to forget her, either."

"You didn't know her!" Tristan exclaimed. "You know nothing! None of you know anything!"

"Well, then I guess you're screwed, because we're the ones who are helping you, Logan said. "I'll leave you alone now to wallow in your nonexistent misery."

Tristan looked up only once Logan was gone.

*** *** ***

Craig started to go up the stairs when he heard Briana call out to him. He turned around. "Yeah?"

She ran over to him. "Is something wrong?" she asked. "You've been distant all night."

"I just have a lot on my mind," Craig replied.

"Are you rethinking your decision to stay?"

"No, it's just all this is overwhelming. I'm a stockbroker from Wall Street who only remembers he's different when he hurts himself. Now I'm in some mansion surrounded by super heroes."

"You're handling it well," Briana said. "And you didn't run when Angie offered the chance."

"It's just so stressful. I mean, in the span of a week I find out my father is, well, Wolverine, I have claws hidden in my forearm, I have a little sister who, judging from the looks she's been giving me, probably wants me dead, and some psychotic being of 'the purest evil' is coming to destroy Earth."

Briana stared at him for a moment, trying to decide what exactly she should do. She'd been flirting with Craig, sure. She'd even kissed him a time or two, but it had never gone past that. She had commitments back home. But seeing Craig now, illuminated by the soft light at the top of the stairs and that wild look in his eyes, she felt so weak that she had to grip the railing of the staircase in order to stand up straight. She tried to draw an image in her mind of what in London she should remain loyal to, but everything was fuzzy. Briana reached up and took Craig's hand. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. He stared down into her eyes and she melted. "Let me come upstairs with you," she said.

Craig nodded and led her up to his room.

*** *** ***

Tristan felt guilty, and that made him nervous. Not the emotion itself—he'd felt nothing but guilt ever since the Dark One had killed his people—but the reason for feeling guilty this time. He knew what he'd said to Logan at the end of their walk had upset her, and he now felt the need to apologize. He tried to forget about it, but the more time that passed, the more it ate at him.

He wandered around the mansion, but, much to his dismay, he couldn't find Logan—or anyone else for that matter. Finally, he noticed someone sitting in a room by herself. Tristan recognized her as the younger girl whom he believed was named Marie. She was sitting on a couch, drawing vigorously on a sketchpad. Tristan walked into the room, standing just past the doorway. "Marie?" he said, hoping he had her name right.

Marie looked at him. "Hey, Dark Angel, what's up?"

"I was looking for Logan," he replied. "Have you seen her?"

"She went into town with most of the others," Marie said. "I had to stay behind and work on my art project."

"What are you drawing?" Tristan asked.

"You can come over here and see if you want."

Tristan walked over and sat down next to Marie. She handed him the sketchpad. "Is this Renegade?" he asked.

"Yeah. He's my brother, y'know."

"I thought he might be, judging from the way the two of you act around each other." Tristan studied her drawing for a moment. "He looks sad," he commented. "And almost lost."

"Sad and lost. That's Ric in a nutshell," Marie said. "He hasn't always been that way, though. He's just had a hard time of it lately."

"Because of Logan?"

"That was more of a byproduct." Marie stopped. "How did you know about that? Did she tell you?"

Tristan shook his head. "No, I only guessed. He watches her like a lost lover."

"You seem to have a real knack for figuring people out," Marie said.

"I observe many things. Pay attention to the details."

Marie smiled a little. "I've observed some things myself."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Like the fact you have a thing for Logan."

"I do not have a thing for Logan."

"Sure…"

Tristan looked back down at the picture of Ric. "You are an exceptional artist."

Marie blushed. "Thanks. Drawing is just something I've always loved to do."

"And you have real talent for it. My people always had an appreciation for art. We felt that even in times of war, there must be a place for beauty."

Marie took the sketchpad from Tristan and flipped back a few pages to a picture she'd drawn of Logan. She tore the picture out. "Here. I want you to have this," she said.

"I…I could not," Tristan protested.

"I insist," Marie said, her fingers slightly touching his as she handed him the drawing.

"Thank you," Tristan said, giving in. He looked down at the picture then back up at Marie. "How long have you been drawing?"

"Almost all my life," Marie replied. "As long as I've been able to hold a pencil I've been drawing something. My mother enrolled me in art classes when I was eight. She found some pictures in my closet that I had done and showed them to my father, and they decided that classes would be good for me."

"Do you enjoy the classes?"

"Yes, very much. I took private lessons up until high school, and now I just take the ones offered by the school. Art is one of the most important things in my life," Marie said.

"From what I've seen of you, I would not have figured you to be an artist," Tristan admitted.

"Guess you aren't as observant as you thought," Marie said with a wry smile. "No, actually, I'm not very vocal about how much I really do draw and paint. Even Logan, who's one of my best friends, has no idea how much I love art."

"How does she not know?"

"She's never asked."

"So you have other works, too, I suppose," Tristan said.

"Yeah, my portfolio's in my room. You could come up and see it if you'd like."

Tristan nodded an affirmative.

*** *** ***

"Are you sure you're okay, Logan?" Kacie asked.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Logan replied. "Why?"

"Because you're just standing here, staring at the parking lot. Do you want to see the movie or is this entertainment enough for you?"

"I want to see the movie. This parking lot just, um, brings back some memories." Logan gave Kacie a weak smile.

Kacie put her arm around Logan's shoulder. "C'mon. I've heard this movie's funny. Maybe it'll help take your mind of your troubles for a little while."

"Kacie, do you and Billy ever have problems?"

Kacie shrugged. "Sure. Every couple does. As a matter of fact, we got in this huge fight just the other day. I was about to kill him."

"How do you guys work things out?"

"We just do," Kacie said. "We've never been mad enough to not want to be together anymore."

"That's the thing that gets me with Ric," Logan said. "We never fought. We only had one problem, and granted, it was a major one, but he never gave us the chance to work on it. And it was always his problem, never ours. And then he got so distant…" Logan kept staring at the spot where Ric had broken up with her, the last place they had stood together as a couple. "I kept hoping he'd come back and say that he didn't really want to end it, that things had just gotten rough and he'd panicked. I kept hoping he'd come back and tell me we could get through this, together. I guess that's something I should probably give up on now."

"Does you giving up have anything to do with Tristan?" Kacie asked.

"I don't know," Logan replied. "Maybe it does, I'm still not sure. I'm attracted to him, but I know if I let myself get close to him, I'll just get hurt. Tristan doesn't seem like he'd be much for a stable relationship."

"You're still young, Logan," Kacie said. "Just because your first serious relationship didn't work out doesn't mean you'll never find anyone. And love and stability are not the only qualifiers for dating. Have fun with a guy for a little while! You're only sixteen."

"And you're like what, ninety?" Logan asked. "Aren't I older than you?"

"By a couple of months only. But seriously, don't dwell on Ric so much. You have plenty of time to find someone that makes you truly happy."

"Ric did make me happy," Logan said. "He just had so many issues, and he hasn't been the same ever since he absorbed Zach Tyson. It made him change so much… And he was always hurting inside. Seeing him in pain like that got to me, too."

Kacie nodded. "You know, you might need a less serious thing right now. It could help you to get over Ric completely."

"Maybe," Logan said, doubting that was even possible. "Now let's go before we're late."

*** *** ***

Tristan stepped tentatively into Marie's room, leaving the door wide open behind him. He looked around and noticed that her walls we covered in posters, photographs, and magazine clippings. He realized that Marie had turned her room into a work of art—it was one giant collage.

"Sorry if it's a mess in here," Marie said, drawing Tristan's attention back to her. "I've never been the world's most organized person."

"I've seen worse," Tristan said. Marie could've sworn she saw the corners of his lips curving in an almost-smile.

Marie reached under her bed and pulled out her leather-bound portfolio. "Here it is," she said, opening it up on her mattress.

Tristan walked over and looked at the pictures slowly, closely examining each one. "These are amazing. How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

Tristan looked obviously surprised by her age. "Have you ever displayed anything publicly?" he asked.

Marie blushed. "Not really. My art school would have shows and I'd contribute a painting or two, but it was never a big deal."

"You should do more than that. Talent like yours is a gift most people don't have. You need to share it with others."

Marie blushed harder. Something about a compliment from Tristan made her lightheaded. "Why do you like art so much?" she asked. "Not exactly something I'd expect from someone who calls himself 'The Dark Angel.'"

"My people were what you would call nomadic. We traveled from world to world, trying to keep up with the Dark One and his path of destruction. We would often arrive too late, finding only the holocaust the Dark One would leave in his wake. It was hard to go on sometimes, always bombarded by images of such hatred and anguish. We needed something to remind us what beauty was and what we were fighting for. Art was the way we did that."

"Are you an artist?" Marie asked.

"No, I'm awful in all honesty."

Marie giggled. "Can you draw a stick figure?"

"What's a stick figure?"

"I'll teach you sometime."

Tristan gave Marie a look that made her realize that he'd gotten the gist of her comment even if he hadn't understood her completely. He looked back down at the pictures. "My beloved, Maritheza, was a great artist. She drew things of beauty such as she had never seen. When I asked her how, she said it was because she could see it in her heart and in the love she felt for me."

"What happened to her?" Marie asked.

"The Dark One delivered a killing blow to her, then threw her back at me so she could die in my arms and I could feel the ultimate pain of knowing I could do nothing to save her."

"I'm…I'm sorry."

"So am I."

After a long moment of silence, Tristan said, "I should be going."

"Okay," Marie said. "Thanks for wanting to come up here and see this stuff. Most people don't."

"Thank you for being willing to share it with me. It's been a long time since I've seen anything like this." Then Tristan did something he had not done in a long time.

He smiled.

*** *** ***

Chapter seven is coming soon…How was chapter six?