Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, Marvel does. In this chapter, I own Cassandra (who has nothing to do with Cassandra Nova, BTW), and her 'friend' and of course, I own this whole bizarre story.
Logan woke up as the first rays of the sun trickled down through the canopy, trying to piece together the events of the time he'd been 'out', while stretching out his aching muscles. Memories from these times came in pieces; scents, sounds, sights. There was a five year stretch of his life, right after the death of Fox, that he could only remember as snatches of memory, the hunt, the kill, living in the depths of the forest.
A flash of red swept across his memory. Jeannie, her scent still lingering somewhat. Red had been there. He growled. What the hell did the girl think she was doing? You don't tempt the beast like that. With that thought came another brief memory; frustration and the scent of Kurt mixed with it. So the boy had gotten her out of the way, although he should never have let her come this close in the first place.
He growled as he strode towards the mansion. At least waking up in the woods indicated he hadn't decided to go hunt her at the mansion; probably there were too many people there, although the logic of the Hunter was never clear to him. He'd barely cleared the edge of the woods when there was a bamf, and Kurt appeared before him.
"Hey kid. What ta hell happened?"
Kurt shrugged. "Short version? You've only been gone one night, Jean for some bizarre reason she's not sharing came out looking for you, I came along, saved her ass, and told a few small lies to cover yours."
"Whadda mean, lies?"
"Told them you wouldn't remember a thing, which is half true, Ja?"
"Ja." Logan replied sarcastically. "What else, Elf?"
"Told them that attacking Jean was 'nothing personal'"
Logan raised an eyebrow at the sarcasm thus exhibited. "And what makes ya think that isn't true, gwi's?"
His only answer was a cold yellow stare. He sighed.
"Ya know, yer too damn observant fer yer own good sometimes."
His reply came in German.
"Perhaps that would be a trait I inherited from you?"
Shit.
From the look on his – take a deep breath and admit it now – great-grandsons face, there wasn't going to be any getting out of this one. He switched to German as well.
"Raven was her birth name, although in the Mi'kmaq it is Kjikáqaquj." He laughed. "We called her Kjiká for short. She was always… at first, we thought it rebellious, but there was a nasty streak in her. One day, when she was about eighteen, we had a bad fight. I went off hunting for a few days – not hunting like last night, but just a little time alone, me and the world. When I came back, they told me Silver Fox and Raven had both been drowned, out on the Miramachi."
There was a bitter laugh from his companion. "I don't think that it's possible to drown Mama. I'm sure it's been tried."
He'd have to agree with that sentiment. "Probably, but at the time I believed it true. After the funeral… I wasn't myself for a few years. When I eventually came back, everything had changed. So I left. I only just found out when the X-Men mentioned her, that she still lived. I was planning to tell you…"
"Ja, sure." The sudden switch back to sulky, accented English. "Whatever. Jube's birthday's today, don't forget."
There was a bamf, and Logan just sighed and continued on towards the mansion. Time enough to deal with stubborn relatives. He could almost hear Fox's lilting voice in his head. ~You know, he takes after you.~
Kitty had been intending to leave after Scott fell asleep, honest. But he'd started having nightmares every time she tried to move away, thrashing around on the bed, only quieting when she took his hand again. Eventually, when it became obvious she wasn't going anywhere, she got rid of the chair, slipping into bed beside him. It wasn't as if she was planning on doing anything. They were both still fully clothed, after all. And he seemed to sleep so much better when she lay behind him, one arm wrapped around him.
When she woke up, he was still asleep. His hair fell over his face, and she brushed it gently away. She should probably get up; no doubt Jubes was already up, wondering where she was, or, more precisely, where her present was. Instead, she took another few seconds just to look at him.
He was so skinny. Kurt and Bobby sometimes teased her about being 'scrawny', poking her in the ribs and making stupid jokes. Geez. Was it her fault she actually liked salad? The last time Bobby had eaten something green, according to Jubes, was when he'd had jalapenos on his nachos. But Scott was honest-to-god skinny, even the clothes they'd gotten for him still hung a little loose. They'd had to choose trousers and shirts that would actually be long enough for what was a tall – when he wasn't slouching – frame; so everything was still a little baggy. The T-shirt he'd been wearing had rode up a little; there was a nasty scar across his side – that looked old, and she reached out, absentmindedly, and ran a finger along it.
He stirred, and woke up; she blushed. Caught ogling! Then for some reason he blushed, too, although why she couldn't imagine – after all, she'd been the one gawking. Then again, maybe he just wasn't used to being gawked at like that.
She was kinda wondering whether she should kiss him or not, when Kurt appeared in the room. Literally, with the bamf, and the smoke, and the muttering in German she was pretty sure wasn't intended for mixed company. He stalked through the cloud of smoke that had accompanied him, into the bathroom, where the door shut behind him with the *click* that was the lock, and the sound of the shower started up.
Well that was weird. The everyday kind of weird, not the destructive, genocidal, evil, end of the world type of weird that was the reason Jean came round and woke everyone up at five thirty am on a Saturday for. But weird nonetheless.
He'd been running, from who he wasn't certain. There were the usual shouts and hollers, along with the easy, rhythmic pace of someone who knows they have all the advantages. Eyes screwed shut, he'd barreled into something sharp and metallic, the blood felt if not seen dripping down his side, the sharp pain a counterpoint to the usual dull ache of his varied bruises and the pangs of hunger.
They'd cornered him now, laughing and joking around, the preamble to the inevitable, to the pain; and he'd thought, perhaps if he could see, then he could escape. Perhaps 'it' wouldn't happen again.
And for the first time in two years, he opened his eyes…
It was her, looking at him. His angel, who'd woken him up with a gentle touch, smiling down at him. He felt the warmth come to his cheeks, the way it always did when she looked at him. There was a moment of silence; her hand was still resting on his side. Then Kurt appeared; it made them both jump, and she moved her hand away from him.
The moment was broken, and she was Kitty again.
"I should probably go." she said, beginning to move away. "It's Jube's birthday, she's got lots of stuff planned, no doubt."
He just nodded. He'd been expecting her to just leave, but first she leaned forward, and laid a gentle kiss on his lips. It was brief, and chaste, and it both thrilled and paralyzed him. Even after she'd leaned back, smiled gently and then disappeared out through the wall, it took him a few seconds more to collect himself, and remember to breathe.
Scott still didn't understand how Kitty could make him feel so… oh, he didn't know. Was this love? He'd heard about love.
Perhaps he could ask Kurt?
There was the sound of something breaking from the bathroom, accompanied by a large amount of what Scott could only assume was cursing in German. He winced.
Perhaps later.
Jubilation Lee tore into yet another present and tried to pretend she wasn't noticing. Why'd they all have to pick her birthday to be, like, all grumpy and weird and stuff? Kurt was angry at something, possibly Wolverine, but had extended that to anyone else within range. That was the first thing. Wolvie was pissed at Jean, Remy kept glaring at Wolvie, and Jean looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. That was the second thing. The third thing was the way Kitty and Scott kept looking at each other, which was cute, but… hell, when had she got cut out of all the gossip? Bobby wasn't being particularly helpful either; usually he was her partner in crime (and other things, of the sort that would probably get them both in trouble if the Professors ever found out), confidante and gossip source – today, he'd come up with a blank.
And then there was something that may-or-may not have been juicy gossip – but Professor Lensheer sure was looking worried since he'd got that phone-call early this morning. On that one she had some kind of lead – she'd been the one to answer the phone-call, and the man with the deep Texan accent had had to repeat himself, like, three times before she'd understood what he was saying.
Wasn't Prof. L's crazy daughter locked up in some maximum security place down in Texas?
They were sitting in a private room at Midori Tokyo, a nice (read: expensive) Japanese restaurant she'd managed to con the Professors into buying her birthday dinner at. Jubilee could only pray that the evening could end without actual bodily harm to anyone in the room.
Suddenly Wolverine pushed back his chair, abruptly, and left the room without comment. There was confusion on most faces, except that of Kurt, which showed a dawning understanding. Damn. The one person who looked like he might know what that was all about, was also the one person who wouldn't tell her. Nightcrawler was more close-mouthed then… um, something or other. (She wouldn't even consider trying to talk to Wolvie about this.) Maybe Kitty would try and pry it out of him; he seemed to like her.
Jubilee's eyes rested on what was entertainment and future blackmail material all rolled into one; two brunette heads resting against one another as Kitty explained the menu to Scott. Hmmph. What was it with Kitty and, like, every guy in the mansion? She'd even caught Bobby sneaking a look at her on occasion.
Jubilee grabbed another present from the dwindling pile of unopened gifts, and ripped away the wrapping with a mental growl that would have made Wolverine proud.
Logan emerged into the hall, leaning against the wood paneling and resisting the urge to rip something or someone to shreds. Wouldn't do much good to go all feral now.
{I'm sorry about this Mariko. This is one job I can't put off.}
{Crazy Gaijin. It'll only be a couple of days, right?}
{Right, darlin'}
{Then you are forgiven, Logan-san. Just hurry back to me.}
{Will do, beautiful.}
He let out a low snarl. Why did Jubilee have to pick this restaurant? Especially at this time of the year. He'd known it would be a rough night when they had bouquets of plum blossom by the door. The night had just gone downhill from there. Half the scents in this place reminded him of Mariko. Plum blossom had only been the start of it. The scents swirled around him. Her favorite dishes; salmon-skin sushi, fresh, hot, gyozu, grilled unagi. Green tea; they used a good brand here; he would've never bothered to learn the difference between good and bad except Mariko drank it with every meal, without exception. He'd only really liked the taste when he had the chance to taste it on her lips…
{Logan-san! We tried to contact you…}
The smell of fear. {What ta hell is it? Where's Mariko?}
The smell of death. {Logan-san…}
Death at his hands. {Logan-san, for me. Please, you must do this. Give me an honorable death.}
"Do you like my skirt?"
Now how the hell had this girl managed to sneak up on him. She was pale, thin, a barefoot waif twirling to show off the aforementioned skirt.
"Uh, sure thing, darlin'". He grew a little suspicious. She didn't have a scent. Jeannie smelt like strawberries and Prague and Jubilee like bubble-gum and vanilla and New Years. Kitty smelt like one Christmas in Paris and Kurt, thank god, just smelt like Kurt, bringing up no memories, good or bad. This girl…
She'd used the pause while he was trying to decipher the meaning behind her lack of scent to waltz up to him.
"You hurt." she said. "I know someone who can help."
He just stared at her. Her lack of scent was somehow covering the other scents; memories started to fade away – the orchards where he'd proposed among plum blossoms, the scent of blood, her blood, on his skin. Well what was he going to do – go back in with the X-Geeks and play nice with Red and the Cajun?
She led him through a couple of corridors; into another private room. A very ordinary looking man sat in the centre of the room, dark haired, green eyed. Something about his scent, though, made Logan's knuckles itch and his skin crawl.
The girl pushed him forward, twirled around, and left.
"And who ta hell are you, then?"
"I, Logan – can I call you Logan? – am a granter of wishes, a changer of truths."
"Yer already beginning ta annoy me. Talk sense."
"Mariko." The name was stretched out, lavishly pronounced. "So different from your Silver Fox. So much more tragic. After all, you had a lifetime with Fox. Children, grandchildren. You had time to know her, and you have had time to mourn her. But Mariko… How long were you married, Logan; a couple of weeks?"
A growl reverberated around the room, and bone claws emerged from their hiding places.
"You gonna make a point sometime soon, or should I just gut ya now?"
"Threats will not be necessary, Logan. Haven't you ever wondered what might have
been if you hadn't left for those few precious days. If you had been there for
her? If you had
taken that dart for yourself?" A laugh. "I doubt
there is a poison that would kill you, my friend. Haven't you ever wondered what your life
would have been like, had you saved her?
If she was still with you?"
Suddenly he was pinned between claws; but the green eyes just smiled and laughed and danced.
"I can make it happen. I can make… your wish… come true."
Charles Xavier frowned, feeling a familiar – and unwelcome presence. Oh no. Not now, not here. Not them. He excused himself, and headed towards the door; the assumption on the faces, and in the minds, of the others is that he was going to look for Wolverine.
Which, in a way, he was.
He was only half-way towards his target when his path was suddenly blocked.
"My skirt has fishes on it. Where are you going, naughty Charles?"
"Cassandra." He tried to reach her mind, find out what they were up to. "What do you want with Wolverine?"
"Mmm." She twirled, smiling at him. "Many things. He will make a choice, soon. His lovely wish." Her eyes grew glazed, distant. "What a wonderful, wonderful world he will build."
"Let me pass, Cassandra."
"Why?" she pouted. "So you can spoil his wish?"
"And what will the price be?"
Laughter, skimming across his mind.
"We are so much alike, Charles. The mind strong, the body weak. You knew that there would be a price, but you went ahead. A wish to save your love – and the price was the soul of the Beauty."
"I didn't know how deep the price would run."
"Excuses, excuses. Was she not a fair price, for the gift of true and perfect love?"
"No price you exact is fair."
"Of course not!" Suddenly, she gasped, grinned. "Do you feel that? He's made his choice, Charles, and you are far, far, too late. I suppose, since in a few seconds you won't remember this world, I can tell you of the price that he will pay."
The world started to shimmer, fading around the edges. But before it did, images flickered across the mind of Charles Xavier, accompanied by Cassandra's silver laughter.
~Dear God!~
A/N: Drum roll, please. Next up; Logan wakes up to another ordinary day at the side of his lovely wife. But something just aint right…