Aw…man…I'm REALLY sorry about the length of the last chapter…I'll make it up to my few remaining readers…I promise! Please…don't leave me here alone…*sob*…man comes up and slaps Nightfan hard across the face. "Ms Fan? You're doing it again…" Ahem. Pay no attention at all to the little human behind the curtain…for I am the wizard of…aw, whatever.
Disclaimer: *shows readers her reflection* 'see? This is ME.' *holds up picture of Stan Lee* 'THIS is the owner of the x-men.' Shoves picture back under pillow. "BUT THEY WILL ALL BE MINE!!!"
Chapter 10
"…And this is Trish reporting LIVE for New England news. Professor Charles Xavier is launching an investigation to benefit survivors of the so called 'morlock massacre,' where over 3000 people were murdered in cold blood. It has been said that those killed were from a band of renegade mutants who were hiding underground from the wrath of mankind, but these rumors remain unconfirmed. In fact, there is a dreadful lack of knowledge concerning events circling…FZZZT"
*snikt*
"Aw…Mr. Logan…why'd you do that?"
"Because, kiddo, there are some things that you're better off NOT knowing."
"…Like…"
"*giggle* Like, algebra!"
"English!"
"Ja…I'll second that!"
Logan looked at the teens in disgust, wondering if it was even possible to have such a short term memory and attention span. Leaving them rolling on the carpet in front of the television that was sliced in three neat, sparking pieces, he went to find the professor.
"Oh…By the Bright Lady…Logan…you gave me quite a turn!" (a/n Yup, to see an angry Wolverine storming around a corner, claws unsheathed would give me a fright too.)
" Have ya seen Chuck, 'Ro?" With yet another sound of metal tearing through flesh, Ororo was dubiously eyeing a perfectly normal knuckle. Reassured, she replied,
"Yes…yes, of course. He went into his study…he took Gambit with him. I believe that it was about…the incident."
"Yeah 'Ro? Well, that 'incident' is just what I need to talk to the professor about. What was he thinking…"
"I BELIEVE, Logan, that he was thinking of the child, which is more than I can say for you."
"Stormy? YOU NEED TO GET YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT!! One kid…all that's in trouble is ONE KID. We have a mansion full o' teenage mutants…n' Chuck's actions could expose us all. And fer what? The three of us KNOW what happened that night…why can't we jus' tell the wench?"
"Logan. All I will say on the matter is this: is it Charles and Me who need to get our priorities straight…or you. Think about it Logan…think long and hard."
Mouth agape, Logan stared at Ororo's retreating back with unease.
It's all that kids fault. he thought, savagely. Why'd she have to show up in the first place?
His thoughts were interrupted by Marrow walking by, her swaggering stride almost SPEAKING to him, saying *take a shot…if you dare.* Logan might just have done that, had it not been for the look on her face: she had evidently not seen him at all…and not seeing the Wolverine was a first class offense in his mind.
Marrow's POV (a/n once again, the story has to get written SOMEHOW. Prepare for extreme angst.)
Must their faces haunt my mind's eye forever? Their screams tug at my heartstrings day by day, but why? Is some spirit trying to show me what happened, or is it just my guilt? Guilt over WHAT? Oh…too many questions. I vow that the person who put me and my morlocks through this pain…the day that I find that person, shall be his last. He will finally feel the pain that he brought to us all, the survivors and the perished alike.
I feel another wave of pain washing over my body. I am used to pain…both mental, and physical. I have to live with it. Ah…it's another fibula bone…the hardest one in the body to pull. The end poking through the skin seems, in a very sick way vaguely tantalizing…like a strange and warped treat from the mind of Lewis Carol. I give a smile worthy of the Cheshire Cat, for this is my world. What do humans do to escape from their worlds of pain and misery? They cut. What do I do? I…pull. Yes, I pull. Probably causes more damage to the internal organs than a razor.
Feeling the tenderness of the skin around the bone, I enjoy the moments that I spend teasing the flesh, before pulling it out slowly to revel in the pain. I put the wound to my mouth, tasting the copper-like blood on my lips: a grotesque lipstick. This is not the treat, though. That is nothing…forgotten in a second. The uniqueness of the moment all comes from the bone. That part of me, dragged out into the open.
I run my hands over the surface, giving it an estimate.
"Yeah…sanding the edges would sharpen it…but weaken it. Hmm…what to do? Oh…if we cut layers of, we'll keep the density, and make it sharp enough for a good weapon…"
A rustle from the shadows by the door, caused me to jump up from my position, immediately falling into a fighting stance.
"Tough as nails, eh?"
"Ah, it's the Canadian. How long've you been there?"
"Long enough, darlin'. Just Long enough to see how sick you are. Your mind twists so far…it's painful to look at."
"Then don't look."
"Some things, ya just can't look past."
"Don't look past. Look right through me…that's what everyone else does. I know you can't take me. I'm not one of your perfect looking students, am I? Even Kurt 's absolutely FINE, 'cause he's got his charm, but me? No. Look here, you superficial bastard, I've seen more death than you have in your whole life. But I bet you haven't actually SEEN death, have you? You've just killed."
"You've got some nerve…"
"Yes…isn't that the problem? I ACTUALLY HAVE A PERSONALITY! Unlike most others in this God-forsaken house…"
"Yer doin' a pretty good job of provoking me, gal, and once provoked, I don't back down."
I could almost smell the tension in the room, and I'd make a bet that he COULD. I wouldn't give him any satisfaction. I opened my mouth to come back, a wonderfully prepared quip in mind, when the sound of a throat being cleared resounded through the tense air. It was the one that they called 'Storm.'
"Sarah…"
My head snapped around at use of the name that they called me down in the tunnels. I felt a seething rage threatening to burst through my chest…but then, it all evaporated. I was sick of fighting. Sick of life. The old man could kill me if he wanted to: at least I wouldn't have to wag tongues at him any more. My conscience would finally be silenced, as my minds eye would be. All spark of life taken from me, sucked out by this household, I looked up at the white-haired lady who stood mouth agape waiting to finish her sentence; what she had started.
"…Sarah, the professor would like a word with you, if you'll wait until he finishes with Gambit."
Mutely, I nodded. At the time, I felt as though there was nothing else that I could do, nothing could help. At that moment, I was living a death.
The moment I left the room, I could hear Ororo yelling at Logan. Not like her at all;
maybe all I can DO is cause problems.
"…Professor, I helped take dat gal's life and family away, and Gambit do anyt'ing he can to help give it back to her."
What's this?
"Gambit, you must understand that she has a HUGE violent potential. To expose yourself…to HER at least…as the…as one of the…"
"Gambit be one of de murderers involved in de morlock massacre. Whether he kill or no doesn't matter."
My body was going into a state of shock. This just wasn't possible…
"It won't matter to her Gambit. Not to her. As far as she's concerned now, you are one of the few people who have shown her kindness. Whether or not it was an act, neither she, nor I shall ever know, but that is not the point. The point HERE, Remy, is to stay alive. This may sound ridiculous to you now, but believe me…it's anything but that."
"No…Remy knows danger, sir. All dat's important to him now, is dat he help Sarah. She hurt herself dat night professor, hurt herself real bad. For all we know, she could do it again. Mebbe kill herself, and den…I really would have blood on my hands. More than I already do."
"Remy, you said yourself that you did no killing."
"Non. Gambit jus' lead de Marauders down into de tunnels to butcher de morlocks. If it hadn't been for him…Sarah would be wit' her friends in de tunnels...."
"…Starving. Now Remy, no-one can excuse what you did. I am not going to argue that point…but…you did in a way compensate…"
I closed my ears. No more did I want to hear: no more talk of this…this THING. God… that's all my life is… a THING … that no one wants to deal with. Not even me.
PLEASE R&R! I REALLY WANT TO READ THEM…
