Disclaimer: Smoke belongs to me. Nobody else does. Please don't sue me - all you'll get is dust bunnies.
Feedback would be very, very cool. Especially since this chapter was very stubborn and did not want to be written!!!
A/N: I've slightly changed the format of mental communication; you're smart cookies, you'll figure it out!
This was meant to be the final chapter - it isn't. Don't blame me; you think I have control over this fic? You have got to be joking….
Further note: Animals can scream. I've heard it - I'm a student Vet nurse - and it is not a nice sound.
Right then, you ready? Good! On with the show!
Chapter 8
Ghosts Of The Past
The three individuals walking through the halls of the mansion appeared strange, even in a place such as this accustomed to odd happenings. A tall, strikingly lovely young woman with white streaks to her hair and snapping anger in her eyes. At her side, a large, wolf-like creature, silver and black, mane and hackles standing on end in fear; bringing up the rear, a tall and muscular wild man, ducking his head and dragging his feet.
Clearly, not the end of a tale.
Professor Xavier straightened in his chair and steadied his mind. He knew that when the student, the wildman and the stray came into this room, there were all sorts of possibilities; many paths that could be taken. Not all of them good. If he got this interview wrong, he could crush the sanity of the young stray and endanger all within his care; he had never had to order the death of another mutant but, if this one started raging through his halls, he may have to. It was never supposed to be like this!
A knock on the door.
Put up or shut up time.
"Come in Logan…Marie."
Their companion peeked shyly around the doorframe, lifting her muzzle to catch the professors scent.
"Be welcome, Smoke. Come in, please…make yourself comfortable."
She moved in to the office and stood there, a shaft of winter sunlight coming through the window catching her raised hackles and making her back look as if it were on fire. She swung her head around again, uncertainly; Marie crouched at her side and rubbed Smoke's soft ears gently.
"You'll be OK, sugah; the professor's a friend. He'll be able to help...ah promise."
The professor cleared his throat and indicated the comfortable chair opposite him. Draped over it was a soft robe.
"If you would like to change back, I think we could communicate more easily."
She thought about this.
*On one condition.*
"Name it."
*All of you -* she turned so that she could see all three of them with a single glance - *turn around. Changing is…private.*
Logan hastily complied. When Marie cocked her eyebrows at him, he just shrugged.
"It ain't pretty, darlin'. Trust me."
Marie complied. Xavier must have done so as well, for there suddenly came the crunching, grinding sound of transformation.
"Ah…Logan?"
"Yeah?"
"If I turned around now, what would I see?"
"Just look at the wallpaper."
"You can turn around now" came a voice from the chair. When they did, they saw a smallish young woman, pulling the robe tightly around herself. Logan couldn't help but grin.
"Hi kid. Lookin' good. Well, better, anyway."
She smiled gently. Flashing a glance at Rogue, she blushed and dropped her gaze.
What? Marie dug Logan in the ribs as she felt his shoulders start to shake with laughter.
"What's so damn funny?!" she hissed.
"Tell you later…"
Their quiet conversation was interrupted by the professor's deep, quiet voice addressing Smoke.
It had begun.
*
"Over and above everything , I want you to remember this: you are among friends here."
Smoke glanced around herself and shivered, pulling the robe more tightly around herself She flashed a quick mental picture to Xavier of the attack in front of the mansion. He winced.
"Yes…I don't blame you for feeling at least a little betrayed by that…unpleasantness. But you understand fear, don't you?"
She nodded.
"Jubilee can be a little abrasive at first. She made you afraid, you made her afraid and sadly," a small, rather lopsided smile, "Remy is still inclined to show off to impress the girls." He frowned somewhat. "And you can be very sure that I will be having words with them both about that."
Smoke smiled a little at the tone of his voice.
"Logan said you became quite eloquent on the way here - "
She threw a look over her shoulder, eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.
"- although he didn't phrase it quite like that."
She gave another small smile, which quickly faded when she looked back at the professor. She dropped her eyes almost immediately, seemingly unwilling to meet his gaze.
"You don't need to be afraid of me, child. Will you speak with me?" He held his breath as he observed her internal struggle. His heart ached for this young woman, brutalised and terrified until she had been forced to exist as a wild thing, trusting no one with only her skills to rely on. It was going to be a long, long road back for her; he wondered sadly if she was aware of that.
"I…don't speak very well. It has been…a long time."
"Four years, Logan said."
She gave a shrug of one shoulder which said, I think so.
"Then let us start before that. Do you remember your childhood?"
Another fleeting smile. Oh, yes.
"Where were you born?"
"Yorkshire…God's own country. The north east of England. We lived near the moors…I remember the snow." She sighed, and seemed to be struggling with the words. "Could I…show you?"
Xavier was startled that she would offer to let him inside her mind so soon after meeting him. But then, he reasoned, she trusted Logan, and Logan trusted him - so maybe it wasn't so strange after all. Plus, his accent marked him out as a fellow countryman of hers; perhaps the first familiar thing she had encountered for a long, long time. He nodded, and smiled at her.
Moving his chair around to her side of his desk, he reached both hands out to her.
Pausing only briefly, with a gulp of fear she grasped them with her own.
Suddenly, they were both standing on a snow-covered hillside watching a small child being pulled up it on a sled. The sound of childish laughter drifted to them on the raw wind. When they got to the top, the man turned the sled around, crouched behind it and put his hands on the side.
"Ready?"
"Go! Go!"
He pushed the sled off and promptly began to run down the slope after it. The child was laughing happily, whooping with glee even as she fell off at the bottom. The man flung himself down next to her, showering her with snow; this started an impromptu snowball fight that delighted the child even more.
"Come on then!" he called cheerfully, and the child scrambled on to the sled to be towed back up the hill. They sang a nonsense song together as they climbed; the sweet, high voice of the child mixing with the rough baritone of the man.
"My father. I was so happy this day; I thought my heart would burst." She smiled over at Xavier. "I had him all to myself. Just the two of us, playing in the first real snowfall of winter."
"How old were you?" asked Xavier gently, feeling grief clutch his heart as he observed the pair on the bleak hillside. The child was insisting that her father go down on the sled this time; he seemed to enjoy it as much as she had.
"Six. I was so happy - "
She broke off, and pointed down the slope to a small cottage tucked into a fold in the hills; slate roofed and built entirely from the local granite, it at first appeared to be a cold and forbidding structure. Until you noticed the warm glow spilling from the heavily curtained windows, and the smoke curling lazily from the chimney, to be whipped away as soon as it rose above the lee of the hill.
Then they were standing in the kitchen of the same cottage; flagged floors that should have been icy were covered with thick, well-worn rugs; the range exuded a gentle heat which filled the space with the scent of the rich stew bubbling away on top of it. A woman - short, rounded, with a shock of glossy black hair caught at the back of her neck in a thick ponytail - was busily tidying up a corner of the kitchen strewn with toys, only pausing to check on a baby gurgling and cooing in a Moses basket in the corner.
"Your mother?"
"And my sister. Four years between us."
She turned toward the door then, as it burst open to reveal a tall man with striking, pale grey eyes and a shock of silver hair, currently full of ice and snow and only partially covered with a woolly hat. In his arms he held the child, bundled up in thick trousers and coat, woolly hat covering most of her ears and eyebrows, brightly coloured mittens and scarlet wellington boots. She was laughing again, all rosy cheeks, small white teeth and sparkling grey eyes that were the very mirror of her fathers.
"Sarah, love, you must be frozen!" called the woman cheerfully, "Come on, let's get that wet gear off you so we can have a spot of tea…" the woman chattered on as she attended to the child, who was excitedly describing to her mother the fun they had been having out on the hillside in a piping voice. Her father had shed his wet coat, hat and boots, and was now bouncing the baby on his lap.
"Sarah" said Xavier with a smile, turning to look at Smoke.
"Not any more. She died."
Scenes began to flicker before them; large family gatherings, Christmas, Easter, New Year…christenings, weddings, funerals. The laughter of children among brightly coloured decorations, the grief of older adults beside sombre black drapes. Picnics on the moors. A constant round of cousins, brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles. Snatches of conversation, images of moments in her life: stalking a squirrel closely enough to touch it's tail, causing the family to nickname her Smoke because she crept up on it so quietly. Gentling a young horse -
"You've got a real way with animals, our kid"
"Nah. He's just scared. I've told him he's OK, and he believes me…"
"That imagination of yours!"
Through the busy ebb and flow of this life, the child Xavier knew would be Smoke grew ever older.
"You had a large family?"
"Oh yes." She gave a lost sort of a smile. "We were always arguing amongst ourselves; Uncle Fred not talking to Auntie Susan because of What She Said About Our Sharon Last Christmas, or small rows about who had cleaned Great Nanna's windows last or who was next due to dig Great Aunt Marjorie's garden. But let an outsider threaten or challenge us, and that person would feel the full force of the Nettleton Clan's fury; not a pretty sight."
A scene involving a weeping cousin, obviously just ditched by the young man currently being advanced upon by a group of young and middle aged male relatives, all with 'come and get yer legs broke' eyes.
"But then, of course, my mutation showed itself one day - at puberty, as they normally do. Like my body wasn't confused enough about what was going on…"
Two girls having a screaming match, the older one - no more than fourteen - roaring at her younger sister to stay out of her room; the younger one screeching back spiritedly, giving as good as she was getting. Suddenly, the older one appeared to have some sort of fit; the younger child carried on shouting for a minute or two, until it became clear that something was indeed wrong. Her sister's form was twisting and writhing wildly, and the sickening crunch of gristle was beginning to rise from the prone, twitching form.
"MAM!" howled the younger child, racing past Smoke and Xavier unseeingly, charging down the stairs screaming shrilly with fear.
Despite knowing that he was witnessing a memory, the professor couldn't help reaching out to the struggling form on the ground. Smoke gently laid a hand on his arm.
"It's OK. It's an old pain."
The familiar form was becoming clear. Lying on her side, panting heavily and whining softly, was the creature Logan had met in the forest. The only difference was that this one had a confused, lost look in her eyes.
The shorter woman came racing up the stairs, accompanied by the younger child. The sight that met her eyes as she arrived must have been terrifying; instead of her older daughter writhing in the throes of a fit, she saw a large, dangerous looking animal. Seemingly unaware of her bodily change, the animal was making mewling noises and crawling towards her family; noting the horrified look on their faces, she glanced around in confusion and happened to lay eyes on a large mirror, propped in the corner of the room, draped with scarves and surrounded by discarded clothing, as befitting the mirror of a teenager.
She saw her own reflection.
"No…." murmured Xavier, having a good idea what was coming next. Smoke patted his hand gently, in an oddly comforting gesture.
The animal screamed.
It was a noise that scraped across the soul; made up in equal parts of horror, fear, pain, desperation - and madness. Smoke closed her eyes, leaning on the professor who was clutching her arm, caught up in the misery of the moment.
"Sarah?" said the mother gently, disbelievingly, "is it you, love?"
The animal looked at her mothers outstretched hand, and began to back away, wailing. Suddenly, she seemed to come to a decision. Turning swiftly, she flung herself toward the wall, slipped a little on the bedclothes, and jumped cleanly through the window, tearing herself terribly on the shattering glass. Her mother stared at the destroyed opening, festooned with tufts of fur and streaked with blood.
"Sarah…? Sarah!"
Silence, then, and only the sound of weeping.
*
Rogue had managed to shuffle Logan into a corner away from where the professor and Smoke were talking together. Once she was sure the other two were deep in mental conversation, she poked him hard in the solar plexus - eliciting a small grunt and pained look - and hissed:
"'Mate'?" Her expression hovered somewhere between outrage and amusement.
OK Logan. Get this right, and it's easy from here. Bluebirds singin', hearts, flowers, all that crap. Get this wrong and she may well never speak to you again. Gone. Lost. No more.
He wasn't sure he could stand that.
"She seems to think we belong together. You know…alpha female, alpha male…sort of thing." Yes, he'd deliberately put the female part first; even the Wolverine knew that occasionally you had to phrase things carefully if you didn't want to be sent home with your nuts in a sling.
"Alpha female…" murmured Marie, leaning into him a little, "I think I like the sound of that. But" she hissed suddenly, "how come you're the alpha male all of a sudden? I mean, why not - Scott?"
He rumbled deep in his chest and fixed her with a smouldering look.
"Ok, stupid question."
"Yup"
"Ah do not belong to you, though. Ah do not belong to anyone. Because - "
Logan didn't even have to speak to cut her off short this time. He just gently lifted his dogtags from where they still lay between her breasts and gave them a gentle shake. Followed by one of his sexiest looks - the one that had most women developing a ripcord on their knickers - and a lift of one eyebrow.
Ha! Lets see her resist that.
"Ok, maybe ah do belong to you. A little bit. But that's MY choice, not yours!"
Their attention was torn back to the other side of the room by a sudden agonised gasp. Smoke's head was thrown back, eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, teeth bared and grinding, breath tearing raggedly through her as though she was dying and tears running freely from her eyes. The professor was staring grimly straight at her; the only signs of his distress the sweat on his brow and tears slowly leaking down his face. Rogue looked alarmed, grabbing Logan's arm tightly.
"Ah - sugah? Shouldn't we be doing something about this?"
His eyes darkened. He had a good idea what the wild thing was going through; he also knew that to break this mental bond could seriously - possibly even fatally - hurt the participants.
"No"
"But it's hurtin' them!"
"Leave them!"
Logan gripped Marie's hands tightly, holding her in place; together, they watched the suffering of their new friend as well as that of their mentor.
*
Abruptly, the observers were standing once more on the desolate moor away from the cottage. Smoke had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, tears leaking slowly from her eyes as she leaned into the comfort of her companion. They watched in silence as lights came on in the courtyard of the small cottage; phone calls had obviously been made, as various family members were turning up in an assortment of battered vehicles. Finally, one figure tore itself away from the group and began to race up the slope toward them.
It was her father. Before he had even reached them, his face was stretched into a rictus of fear, eyes wild, tears freezing on his face. They could hear his ragged breathing as he struggled through the snow, driving himself forward as fast as he possibly could.
"Where is he going?" asked Xavier softly. Smoke pointed to a tree filled hollow in the hill just visible to their left; no sooner had he spotted the place than they were there.
Her father slid down between the trees, stopping by a pile of granite, seemingly a part of the hill which had tumbled down to rest in this dip in the land. It had formed a sort of cave made of tree roots and massive, ancient blocks of stone; from inside could be heard a faint, breathy whining - like an animal in great, tearing pain.
"Sarah?"
The noise stopped, to be replaced by a listening silence.
"I'm - I'm sorry love, but…this is all my fault…." He began to weep.
More silence.
"You've been watching those documentaries, I know…the ones that talk about mutants…" he broke down into sobs again. "Well…I…I…have a mutation."
Low growl from the cave.
"It's nothing major! I just…just…heal really quickly. And I thought you might have that, because you've never been sick…not like your sister. She takes after your mum…"
"At least he didn't say 'normal'" sighed Smoke. Xavier put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"Please love…come out of there. We can sort this, I know we can. There's some…people I work with up at the University…specialists. They…they might agree to help us. They specialise in…in…mutant physiology…" he broke down into wracking, heartbroken sobbing again, wrapping his arms around himself in a gesture that Logan would no doubt have found very familiar.
The great animal that was his daughter slowly emerged from her hiding place. Instead of being afraid, he father opened his arms and, when she came close enough, flung them around her neck and wept into the long fur of her mane.
Smoke suddenly made a motion of her hand, and all vision ceased.
what happened?
*I can't stand it. The remembering.*
If you'd rather break this off -
*No. We've got this far…*
What happened next?
*My family accepted me, strange as it may seem. Although my sister had nightmares for months. After all, it was our problem, no one else's. The Americans my father was working with at the university offered to help. Said they knew of…a…facility…in Alaska. A private clinic, they called it.*
It wasn't what they said, I take it?
*No, it bloody well wasn't. We said our goodbyes, my parents and I flew over there, they…examined me, then said I would make more progress if my parents went home…at which point they showed their true colours*
Vision returned. A small cell. A terrified teenager, curled up naked beneath a thin blanket.
"Oh no…what did you do?"
"What do you think? I escaped!"
(To be continued!)