ZELDA: WHEEEE! WHEEEE! WHEEEE!

JUBILEE: What *are* you doing?

Z: WHEE!! I bought a new chair at IKEA and it spins and swirls and rolls right across the kitchen floor! I can push right over to the fridge and get a drink (there is the "pop-fizz" of a can being opened) and coast right back to the desk. And I built it myself! WHEEE!

Ju: No fair! I wanna try! (A small scuffle breaks out over the chair with Jubilee the victor.) WHEEE!! This is fun!

Z: Rats. Now I need another chair. Kincaid!

LIAM KINCAID: You bellowed?

Z: Disclaim the story. I've got to build a chair.

K: We do not own the X-Men. We do own the workings of Melusine's maniacal little mind, so any dismaying inconsistencies belong completely to us. This chapter contains the following: angst, gore, bad language. But as I am not a Muse, it's not really my fault. Enjoy!

PART EIGHT: X-POSED 1

The room was dim and quiet; Melusine took a deep breath, concentrated on the Professor's voice, tried to escape the feeling that she stood at the centre of a slow-spinning vortex.

"Henry will keep an eye on our vital functions during the trance. We will need to go quite deep, deeper than you and I have been before, if we're going to discover the truth of these memories. Jean will anchor us, provide us a way home." Xavier smiled reassuringly at Melusine. He didn't need any psychic abilities to sense her fear; it was evident in her huge eyes and pale complexion, making her seem no older than Jubilee herself. "Are you ready?" he asked, ignoring her mumbled "No." "Good. Then let's begin."

Remember, this is your voyage, Melusine, the Professor continued. You are in control here. Where shall we go? Troubled purple eyes drifted closed, and Melusine took Jean and the Professor Within.

***

"Whaddya think's going on in there?" Logan kept his eyes on the door. "Wolvie?" Jubilee asked, poking him in the arm for good measure.

"Don't call me that!" he snapped. She smiled brightly back. "Dunno, kid," he answered, taking the petty retaliation while he had the chance.

Her concern was made evident when she ignored his comment. "Do you think she'll really get all her memories back this time?"

"Don't know." Logan exhaled, thinking about the set of Melusine's jaw when she'd told him about the man who'd killed her sister. "But I intend to stay put until we find out."

Jubilee crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. "Good. Me too."

***

Where are we? Jean asked the Professor. He gave her a bemused shrug. They were standing in the middle of a deserted street of wartime row housing, everything in sepia tones. The houses gave Jean the impression of theatrical sets, perfection in front but empty shells behind. Melusine stood twenty feet in front of them, white dress and blonde hair glowing softly in the dull setting. Melusine? Xavier called.

Confusion radiated back at them. I don't know, she replied, twisting around to see behind her. Wait! Did you see that? She spun around once, then again. What? Jean asked. There! Melusine exclaimed, pointing. Down that way ... No! she cried, bolting down the street, Jean and Xavier in hot pursuit.

Which way did she go? she snapped at them when they caught her two blocks later. Who? inquired the Professor. Marie-Thérèse. Ma soeur. It was the third door on the right. Melusine hastened forward and threw open the door. A scream echoed through the landscape as she staggered back. Xavier caught only a glimpse of the dead man inside before the door slammed shut. Not there! she moaned.

Melusine! Xavier put all the force he could muster into her name. She stilled immediately. He turned to Jean. Stay here. Guard the way home for us. She nodded. We'll have to go deeper in. Are you willing? Melusine also nodded. Then let's begin with this door. He took her hand and together they opened the door.

They were inside a club, noisy beyond Xavier's wildest imaginings. A bright spot in the center of the dance floor drew Melusine like a moth to a flame. I was here, she said slowly. And ... she spun around, then pointed. A spotlight clanked on, illuminating a tall, good-looking man. So was he, she finished, going a little glassy-eyed as the man, still in the spotlight, stepped down onto the dance floor to join her. Good, praised Xavier. And then? The club whirled away, replaced by the stark furnishings of any one of a million New York hotel rooms. The man embraced Melusine; she raised her head dreamily from his kiss, nerve endings tingling. And stiffened as she saw something over his shoulder. Non!

What? The scene spun forty-five degrees. Behind the man stood a young girl, horrible gashes in her neck and abdomen, curly blonde hair densely matted with blood. Marie-Thérèse, moaned Melusine. The apparition flickered around the edges, then disappeared. Melusine relaxed immediately. Just a figment of my imagination? she guessed. Perhaps, Xavier answered. Bien. Allons.

They were still in the hotel room, blueprints and photos scattered across a table. The man slammed his hand down, arguing vehemently with empty space. Melusine quirked her head to one side at Xavier's wordless question. I don't know, she began. He wants... She gracefully stepped up to the table. "Non," she stated, quietly but firmly. "I won't do it, Nasyd. Why should I?" Following her, Xavier picked up a photo. Joshua Doors. "I don't need the money." "But what if I do?" the man asked. "You have to do this for me." "Non," she repeated, turning to leave. Nasyd took her hand and the scene rippled, once, then again, stabilizing, yet somehow, Xavier felt, ominously darker. "You have to do this for me," he emphasized. "D'accord. For you," Melusine replied, opening the door and going through.

Her panic rose up in Xavier's stomach, strong and menacing. This can't be right. This isn't right! At her feet lay the bloody corpse of the girl Melusine had identified as her sister. She backed up a step, blindly feeling for the door knob. The scene began to wobble, flashing, iridescent lights drawing nearer. Melusine continued to retreat, Xavier beside her, until her backside ran into the door. With a flash they were through.

What is going on with you, Melusine? Xavier wondered as a series of bizarre images zipped past them. Marie-Thérèse, shifting into another body, a man, also horribly mutilated, more faces, more deaths. They came faster and faster, culminating in the surprised expression of Joshua Doors as his body slid with a soft thunk from Melusine's dagger onto the floor. "I had to do this, for you," she explained, to the wild-eyed, still handsome, blonde man who stood, exultant, behind her. They went through a door, where the lizard-man waited for them. "She did it!" he cried, pointing an accusing finger. "The girl is gone!"

Nasyd turned on her in an instant. "You defied me? You said you would do it, and now she is gone?" Melusine shrunk back, the edges of the scenes beginning to dissolve and reform under her stress. Oh god, what have I done? she panicked, ignoring the voice that urged her to remain calm. The dizzying, whirling lights returned, pulsing through impossible colours. They pushed at her, pressed at her. She could hear their hungry, hissing voices echoing in her mind. She was His, they warned. She had always been His. To defy him was death; she could read that in the angry pale green eyes that narrowed dangerously as he decided what to do with the one who had failed him. She couldn't stay, didn't dare to stay to find out what would happen.

She broke and ran, fear her enemy and her friend, making her run faster than she ever had before, her legs weak beneath her. Ahead, on the right, was a door. Unlocked! She jammed herself inside, the noise of pursuit disappearing as the door closed. Panting, she stumbled into the room, landing hard on her knees as something tripped her up. Oh no, not again! she begged. Not her sister, again. Light filtered in, from a window high overhead, and she realized she was somewhere worse.

The middle-aged man laid sprawled on the floor. The cuts and gashes that covered his body were merely superficial, though there was enough blood to mislead the casual observer into supposing they were the cause of death. But they weren't. She knew, though she'd prevented their clotting with just the tiniest influence of her healing ability, a misuse for which she would pay for days to come. No, she'd used her knife only as a focus, when she had felt that his attention was waning, as she stripped his mind and fed it back to him piece by piece. That was what had killed him in the end. That absolute, craven terror. Whatever thrill he'd gotten from molesting and killing little girls, it hadn't been enough, in the end, to save him from her.

Marie-Thérèse had been well repaid. Melusine brought shaking hands to her mouth. But why am I here? "Catch her, mindfuck her, and feed her to the mob!" Nasyd commanded as he strode onto death's stage. Kneeling down by the corpse, he dipped a well-manicured hand in the blood still oozing from a wound on the man's chest. He brought the hand to his lips, sniffed once, and then sensuously licked the blood off his fingers. Melusine gagged; he turned his head to the noise. Grinning ferally at her, he rose in one fluid motion. "You're too late," he smiled. "But then, it's always been too late." He gestured; the corpse blurred, shifted, became that of Marie-Thérèse. "Always too late," he sighed happily, eyes locked with hers as he crouched beside her sister, caressing the dead body with the soft touch of a lover. Darkness, so black that it almost began to radiate light, was creeping in along the edges of the room. "You have to do this for me," he crooned, offering her a dagger. The darkness swirled in closer; dimly, she heard a pounding, and someone crying her name. She took a step forward. "It's always been too late," she agreed, closing a nerveless hand around the length of steel. He smiled encouragingly at her as she took the weapon, feeling its weight in her palm. Nasyd continued smiling as she drew it back, and plunged it into his chest.

Darkness exploded around her; as it cleared she realized she was back, again, in the dark little hallway of the row house where Marie-Thérèse and her father lived. She looked down; at her feet lay her sister, blood solidifying in the pale curls. She glittered like silver in the dimness. And darkness swirled around her head. Melusine grabbed it with a snarl. Back to the kitchen, back to her sister's murderer. Darkness was pooling at the dead man's feet, it swirled and glittered on the cheap linoleum floor. She could feel it creeping up her legs, past her knees. "It's always been too late," she agreed, and reached out to the man with the dagger in his chest with her mind.

***

A gut-wrenching scream erupted from the silence of the Professor's study. Logan burst into the room, Jubilee paffing fireworks behind him. The Professor was slumped over in his chair, Beast already tending him; Jean was curled into a fetal position on the sofa. There was no sign of Melusine.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"You must go after her. I'm afraid, in her condition, she may do herself an injury." Hank tipped Xavier's head back, revealing the handle of a dagger buried in his chest. Logan's eyes went wide with shock.

"But-" Jubilee protested. He whirled, the snickt of his claws loud in the room. "Stay here," he commanded. "Look after Jean." He sniffed once, to orient himself, then set out through the French doors.

***

Melusine ran through the woods, fear her enemy and her friend, equal parts hunter and hunted animal. Her telepathic ability was stretched to the utmost. She could not let them catch her. The landscape blurred in front of her eyes, under the weight of the realities warring in her mind. In one reality she'd plunged a dagger into the heart of the man who'd killed her sister. In another, she'd killed him with his own thoughts many years before. And in yet a third, she'd opened her eyes to see her hand shaking on the dagger she'd embedded in Professor Xavier's chest. Her hold on sanity was slipping by the moment, until, momentarily, everything stabilized. Her lip curled in a silent sneer. Of course. They'd sent him after her. More fools they. She made an abrupt turn as a plan crystallized in her mind.

***

Logan stopped and tested the air again. He'd been chasing Melusine for close to an hour now, his mind gibbering at him that she was gone, she wasn't here, he'd never find her here. But his nose was telling him a different story, and that was the one he was following, installment after installment, as he tracked her through the ten acres of wilderness that surrounded the mansion.

It was the smallest of changes in air pressure that alerted him. He spun round just in time to recognize a pair of size six and a halfs before they connected squarely with his solar plexus. With a neat somersault, Melusine landed on top of him. He tried to throw her off, but he was immobilized as surely as if Magneto held him in place. "Mel," he croaked. Her eyes were wild; a long thin knife was in her hand. She set the point to his throat.

"I wonder how long it would take you to heal from this?" she said, dreamily, pressing the point in ever so slightly.

END OF PART EIGHT

FROM BACKSTAGE: WHEEE!! WHEEE!!! WHEEEE!!!

ZELDA: (still backstage) Oh man, I've gotta stop. The room is spinning! (comes onto the A/N stage) Is that it? Is it over?

KINCAID: Yeah.

Z: Kind of a cliffie, isn't it.

K: Yeah.

Z: Am I totally evil, or what?

K: (a pause) So, did you do the thing you said you were going to do with you-know-who?

Z: You-know -- Vol -- Oh, you mean Jubilee? Yeah.

K: So, then, cue the voiceover!

VO: What's happening with Melusine? Is she really about to kill Logan? Is there any way to save him?

K: Probably not!

VO: And what have Kincaid and Zelda done with Jubilee? The answers to these questions (and any posed in your reviews) in the next installment of "Once her name was Melusine …"

K: Soon with more lemon-freshness!

Z: Please review! My sister said this chapter was weird … I don't want her to feel alone!