Once her name was Melusine …
A/N: Disclaimer, etc. at the start of Part 1. Well, since I've yet to read any reviews, I guess I'll just have to assume that everyone is so stunned by my writing ability that they simply go away to reflect in quiet awe … ^_^
This chapter, especially, is dedicated to victims of hate crimes the world over. And may the perpetrators come to a proper understanding of their errors.
Part 2: Taking the Fall
Logan surveyed the garbage-strewn alley with disgust. Nothing. Again. He'd lost count of the number of Manhattan's dark corners he'd stuck his sensitive nose into, since Jubilee had disappeared at Senator Carr's fundraiser, and reappeared with no explanation on the corner of Broadway and Forty-Sixth. Even the Professor had been unable to lift the block shielding those twenty-four hours of Jubilee's life. Whoever had done it, had messed with the kid good. While kidnapping the wealthiest of Carr's guests, billionaire Joshua Doors. An enormous ransom had been demanded and paid, but Doors himself had not resurfaced. And the longer that took, the less likely it was to happen, Logan figured. So, whoever it was had two strikes against them: the billionaire and Jubilee. "Payback's a bitch," he growled, turning to leave.
Stepping out of the alley into the equally narrow street, he was nearly bowled over by two kids pelting down the street. "This way, c'mon!" the front one urged the second, as they darted around a corner. Left or right? Logan wondered, testing the air. Not much difference between 'em. Except… He sniffed more intently, then realized it wasn't a smell, but a sound that was bothering him. The sound of an angry crowd, not too far away. Maybe three streets over, in the direction the kids had been running. What was it Cyke had said to him before he'd gone out tonight? "Don't go looking for trouble, Logan." "Who needs to look, when they're givin' it away for free?" he muttered, then grinned as he took off after the kids.
Three blocks later, he caught up with the crowd. "Where'd she go?" "I seen her over here!" "Goddamn mutant freak!" "Don't worry, Frank, she ain't gonna get far!" The frenzy of hate was a sour stench that threatened to overwhelm him. "Mutant scum!" screamed the woman standing next to him. Logan gagged on the breath he'd drawn to calm himself. Shoulders and forearms rigid with tension, he knew it was only a matter of time before he popped his claws. Give her somethin' to really scream about.
"Up here!" Logan's gaze jerked upwards, along with the crowd. "Mutie bitch!" Silhouetted on the roof's edge of the three story walk-up, long hair billowing in the suddenly sharp spring breeze, was a girl. She took an awkward step back, one arm cradling the other. Blood was dripping from cuts on her head and arms. She flinched as another stone was hurled at her, taking another step nearer to the edge. One more step, and she'd be over, Logan realized, cursing as he also realized there was no way he could get up there in time. The crowd was screaming in ferocious delight as the gang on the rooftop began to stone the girl in earnest. Logan pushed ahead, trying desperately to get somewhere near her, but it was too late. One stone took her right in the forehead; she swayed back, stumbled, and fell.
The smack of flesh on pavement silenced the crowd, but only for a moment. With a roar, the mob closed in for the kill. Logan shoved through as many as he could, keeping his claws retracted only through sheer will, allowing himself only the tiniest amount of satisfaction at the feeling of bones compacting under adamantium-reinforced blows. He hardly noticed the glancing strikes of ice pellets against his head, but as the size and intensity of the hail increased, the on-lookers began to run for cover. With a snarl, he yanked the guy in front of him out of the circle that had formed around the unconscious girl, and decked him with one punch. He caught a second on the backswing before the others realized what was happening. One turned on him, fist flying toward Logan's head in what would have been a painful blow, if it hadn't been stopped against an adamantium forearm. With a lightning fast move, he grabbed the guy's arm, pulling him forward, then gave him a solid boot in the stomach, sending him flying backward into another of the mob. "Fer chrissakes!" screamed the fine example of humanity opposite him, pointing at the girl. "That's the mutie!" He gave her another kick for good measure.
"Back off, bub," Logan warned.
"Or what?"
Baring his teeth in what might have passed for a grin among tigers, Logan popped his claws. "Or this," he growled. "You ready to play with someone a little closer to your own size?" Uncertainty washed across his opponent's face. He took a step back and was promptly clobbered by an enormous piece of hail. With a frustrated scream, he turned and ran. The others lasted only seconds longer. Logan took only a moment to watch them go, then dropped on his knees beside the girl.
"Is she … ?" Boots stopped just beside them. Logan shook his head. "She's alive," he stated, with more hope than conviction. "Thanks, Storm," he said, looking up at the white-haired woman who had created a hailstorm out of thin air. "For all your help."
"You seemed to be enjoying yourself," she commented dryly as she lowered herself to the ground. "We can't move her," Storm decided, pulling out her portable vid-phone. "Hank's in the car. He needs to have a look before we do anything." Logan nodded, smoothing the girl's hair out of her face. Hold on, darlin'. You'll be safe before you know it.
***
She awoke gradually, senses returning one by one, and only, it seemed, as each one was absolutely sure of its welcome. Hearing was first, registering a gentle and regular beeping. Smell followed, an antiseptic, clean odour that tickled her tastebuds as the cold air passed into her throat. The fabric under her fingers was soft and plush. She was getting ready to open her eyes when she heard the voice.
Welcome. In a joyful rush, she bypassed the return of sight, and stepped into the realm of the mind. There, she opened her eyes with satisfaction. Sitting opposite her was a distinguished looking, older gentleman. Distinguished? he queried. Ah me, better than bald, I suppose. She blushed with embarrassment, but lost the emotion in wonder.
Where am I?
You are at my school, he replied, and gave her the image of the stately mansion, filled with children with special gifts. Mutant children. She offered him her delight in return.
Thank you. I am Professor Xavier. She bit her lip in sudden dismay, adjusting the arm she held cradled against her chest. Does that hurt? he inquired, inclining his head toward her.
She nodded in reply. I'm afraid it's broken, the Professor said. She quirked her head to the side, and smiled. What?
Don't you know this is the realm where the impossible becomes possible? Closing her eyes for just a moment, she looked Within, at the arm as it wanted to be. Whole, uninjured. And then she made it so. The Professor's surprise was quickly masked, but she registered it nonetheless. How did I get here? she asked.
You don't remember? The Professor didn't bother to hide his surprise this time. She bit her lip again, trying to concentrate. Was there anything that she remembered? A fleeting image of darkness, running, shouting. And behind that … My name is Melusine, she said, smiled a farewell, and opened her eyes.
***
"A voluntary healing factor!" marveled Jean Grey to her mentor.
"Completely under her conscious control," Professor Xavier confirmed. "And I'm confident, that given time, she will fully recover her memory. I believe her current amnesia is traumatic in nature, but not permanent."
"What has she remembered so far?" Xavier turned his chair to face Scott Summers.
"Very little. She thinks she may have been born in Montreal. At the age of six she recalls being separated from her family. Not much beyond that."
"Another Canadian," mused Rogue, twisting in her seat to check Logan's reaction. He stood, as usual, in one of the room's darker corners, arms folded across his chest. He raised an eyebrow in reply, daring her to make something out of his response.
"Indeed," Xavier commented. "But it's Melusine's healing abilities which myself, Jean, and Dr. McCoy will be investigating over the next few days."
***
Hank McCoy paused on the edge of the lawn, casting a huge shadow on the carefully manicured grass. Sitting not twenty feet away, her back to him, was the exquisite blonde woman he, Wolverine, and Storm had rescued the night before. Of course she hadn't been able to defend herself; the healing ability she possessed was not in the slightest an offensive weapon, and telepathy was unreliable as a defense. Useful though the ability to read minds might be, for the most part he believed it did more harm than good to those that possessed it.
Melusine looked up at the huge blue creature standing beside her. "It's not entirely useless, you know," she commented, tossing a few crumbs from her hands to the chattering sparrows gathered at her feet.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Telepathy," she clarified, tapping her temple with her finger. "Though sometimes I think it would be more fun to be able to talk to the animals."
"Like Dr. Doolittle?" Hank asked, amused.
"Dr. Doolittle?" A frown creased Melusine's forehead. "No, wait, I remember! He talked to the animals, and walked with the animals, and …"
"Ate and drank and danced with the animals!" Her dazzling smile was all the encouragement he needed. "Speaking of eating, tonight is my night to provide our little family with dinner. Would you be at all interested in becoming chef's assistant for the evening?"
"I may not know how to cook," she warned.
"That's quite alright," he reassured her, looking around quickly before whispering "Neither do I."
***
Neither do I! Melusine snorted softly. Whatever he might have said, Hank McCoy was no slouch in the kitchen. Three pots were already bubbling happily on the stove, and a sauté pan was hissing gently in anticipation of the onions currently being chopped by the head chef. Meanwhile the chef's assistant was slicing peppers and mushrooms, a task thankfully not beyond her heretofore untested culinary skills. In fact, the knife felt downright comfortable in her hands, passing with ease through the defenseless vegetables.
"Mmmm," Hank hummed, passing judgement on the contents of the pot he was stirring. "The perfect moment. Melusine, would you be so kind as to bring me the potato flour? It's in the third cabinet along, second shelf, brown crockery." Standing on tiptoe, quietly cursing the giants who'd designed the kitchen cabinetry, she finally located the small jar.
The kitchen door to the exterior opened as her back was turned. "Beast!" called out a merry voice. "What's dat you got cookin' on de stove? Look like Gambit come home jus' in time for dinner!"
"Impeccable timing, as always," responded Hank. "Melusine, may I introduce-"
As she turned to greet the newcomer, the jar slipped from her suddenly nerveless grip and shattered on the floor. Melusine stood rooted to the spot, swamped by a tidal wave of memory. Hank took a step towards her as she snapped back to the present with a gasp and exclaimed, "Diana!" She whirled and was gone.
Hank could only meet Gambit's sardonic gaze with bewilderment.
END OF PART 2
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