Chapter Four! Read and Review!
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Sleep had come more easily that he'd expected, and Logan woke up a good twelve hours later, with the moonlight streaming through his window, unwilling to leave his bed. Hunger finally motivated him to get up and get dressed, and he ambled down the halls to the kitchen. It was ten o'clock, past curfew for the students, but Jones, who never slept, was channel-surfing, as usual, and didn't acknowledge his presense, for which he was grateful. He didn't feel much like talking.
He pulled the remains of a casserole out of the fridge and proceeded to demolish it with single-minded determination, until he heard a whisper of movement in the hallway, and looked up to see the dark-haired woman from ATLANTIS tiptoe in. She smiled in greeting. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," he replied, only then realizing he'd been staring, and returned to his casserole. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
"Probably," she said, pulling the fridge open and inspecting it's contents. "Storm fell asleep," she explained without looking at him. "I hooked her up to the monitors." She took a container of soup out and sat across from him with a spoon, eating a cold spoonful with a grimace.
"You could heat it up," he said, gesturing towards the microwave.
"No, it's fine," she said. "It's just... food in general tastes pretty bad right now. I guess you've never been starving." He shook his head. "Well, after a while, you stop being hungry, and you have to force yourself to eat, slowly. I could die from overeating as easily as malnutrition right now." She ate another spoonful matter-of-factly.
"What are you, some kind of doctor?" He scraped the last bits of pasta and burned cheese off the sides, mostly to give his hands something to do.
"I wanted to be, once," she said, then looked up. "I told you that before."
Eyes so deviod of color were a little bit creepy when they were fixed on you. "Yeah, I, uh... forgot. Everything."
"Ah. I figured as much. How far back?" she cocked her head, inviting him to tell the story.
"All the way." Her expression encouraged him to go on. "I woke up in the woods, and didn't remember a thing."
"After you escaped from Alkali," she said quietly, tracing the tiled counter top with her index finger. "The first time, anyway." In an abrupt mood swing, she locked eyes with him. "You want me to tell you what I know?"
Logan hesitated, then leaned forward. "Yes."
She blinked at the intesity of that single word, then put the lid back on the soup container and placed it in the refridgerator. Logan watched, slightly put out that she was willing to delay the telling of his past to put away food. She turned for the door, and gestured for him to follow. "Walk with me?"
Outside, she seemed to perk up a bit, inhaling and exhaling with gusto, stretching her arms carefully. "Beautiful night," she commented, more to herself than to him, and he growled his impatience quietly. "I don't know everything, Logan," she cautioned.
"So tell me what you know. Start with ATLANTIS."
She made a sound between a sigh and a shudder. "The place was a nightmare after you escaped. Sorry," she added, aware that her tone had been slighty accusatory. "Anyways. The official speech was that ATLANTIS was a place to house dangerous mutants away from society. A prison specially designed for it's occupants. But since every mutant is a dangerous mutant, according to Stryker-"
"Wait, wait. Stryker was in on this?"
"Well, yeah. How else do you think you ended up at Alkali Lake? The whole thing was his idea. Don't interrupt me again. Where was I?" She turned off the main walk to walk on the bare ground.
"Since every mutant is a dangerous mutant..." he prompted.
"Ah. Since every mutant is a dangerous mutant, according to Stryker-" It was amazing how much hatred could be infused into one name. "-most mutants put into ATLANTIS hadn't done anything to merit their incarceration."
"Besides live," Logan said quietly.
"Exactly. You were one of the first occupants of ATLANTIS. You were there when I was brought in. I was twelve. I don't know how old you were. Its been fifteen-sixteen years now, and you still look, sound, smell exactly the same. A little more angry, maybe."
"How'd you end up in ATLANTIS?"
"My parents turned me in," she said bitterly, features hardening into an expressionless mask. Realizing he'd touched a nerve, Logan said nothing. After a moment, she continued. "You didn't have the adamantine skeleton yet. After about six months-"
"How did we know each other?" He winced inwardly as he realized he'd interrupted again, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Cell mates. We both required high-security cells, and Stryker was too cheap at the time to make all the cells adamantium, so he stuck us both in the same one. He changed it after your escape, upgraded the security, tattooed everybody. He figured you'd come back for me." Her tone said she'd figured the same thing.
"Sorry," he said, sure that, had he had his memories, he would have.
"That's okay." She shrugged philosophically. "It taught me about hope, and how you shouldn't have it." She crossed her arms and watched her bare feet make prints in the dirt, as though she had said too much.
Not quite knowing what to say to that, he changed the subject. "So, what do you do?"
"What?" She glanced up, startled.
"Your powers. What do you do that merits a high-security cell?"
She flashed him a grin and jumped up and back, landing in a crouch on the side of the mansion, where she stayed, as casual as if she was sitting on the floor, grinning devilishly at him. "I do that," she said proudly.
"Oh," was all he could think of, which hardly seemed adequate.
"And I do this." She pointed two fingers, her index and middle ones, at a tree behind him, and a string of nearly invisible white stuff shot out, adhering to the tree. She swung, tarzan-style, and he barely remembered to duck before she landed behind him, feet firmly planted, as neatly as any gymnast. "Plus, you taught me how to fight, so..."
"So, apparently, to some, the term 'dangerous' applies," he said dryly, dusting his jeans off. She brushed a leaf off his jacket, then cocked her head at him thoughtfully. "What?"
She blinked. "It's good to see you again, Logan." Her tone was frank, sincere, backed by the open affection in her eyes.
He couldn't think of a thing to say to that, either. So he wrapped his arms around her in a hug that was half apology, half genuine fondness. She tucked her head against his shoulder and sighed, leaning trustingly against him.
In that moment, the world seemed a little less hostile to both of them.
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Review!
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Sleep had come more easily that he'd expected, and Logan woke up a good twelve hours later, with the moonlight streaming through his window, unwilling to leave his bed. Hunger finally motivated him to get up and get dressed, and he ambled down the halls to the kitchen. It was ten o'clock, past curfew for the students, but Jones, who never slept, was channel-surfing, as usual, and didn't acknowledge his presense, for which he was grateful. He didn't feel much like talking.
He pulled the remains of a casserole out of the fridge and proceeded to demolish it with single-minded determination, until he heard a whisper of movement in the hallway, and looked up to see the dark-haired woman from ATLANTIS tiptoe in. She smiled in greeting. "Hey."
"Hey yourself," he replied, only then realizing he'd been staring, and returned to his casserole. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
"Probably," she said, pulling the fridge open and inspecting it's contents. "Storm fell asleep," she explained without looking at him. "I hooked her up to the monitors." She took a container of soup out and sat across from him with a spoon, eating a cold spoonful with a grimace.
"You could heat it up," he said, gesturing towards the microwave.
"No, it's fine," she said. "It's just... food in general tastes pretty bad right now. I guess you've never been starving." He shook his head. "Well, after a while, you stop being hungry, and you have to force yourself to eat, slowly. I could die from overeating as easily as malnutrition right now." She ate another spoonful matter-of-factly.
"What are you, some kind of doctor?" He scraped the last bits of pasta and burned cheese off the sides, mostly to give his hands something to do.
"I wanted to be, once," she said, then looked up. "I told you that before."
Eyes so deviod of color were a little bit creepy when they were fixed on you. "Yeah, I, uh... forgot. Everything."
"Ah. I figured as much. How far back?" she cocked her head, inviting him to tell the story.
"All the way." Her expression encouraged him to go on. "I woke up in the woods, and didn't remember a thing."
"After you escaped from Alkali," she said quietly, tracing the tiled counter top with her index finger. "The first time, anyway." In an abrupt mood swing, she locked eyes with him. "You want me to tell you what I know?"
Logan hesitated, then leaned forward. "Yes."
She blinked at the intesity of that single word, then put the lid back on the soup container and placed it in the refridgerator. Logan watched, slightly put out that she was willing to delay the telling of his past to put away food. She turned for the door, and gestured for him to follow. "Walk with me?"
Outside, she seemed to perk up a bit, inhaling and exhaling with gusto, stretching her arms carefully. "Beautiful night," she commented, more to herself than to him, and he growled his impatience quietly. "I don't know everything, Logan," she cautioned.
"So tell me what you know. Start with ATLANTIS."
She made a sound between a sigh and a shudder. "The place was a nightmare after you escaped. Sorry," she added, aware that her tone had been slighty accusatory. "Anyways. The official speech was that ATLANTIS was a place to house dangerous mutants away from society. A prison specially designed for it's occupants. But since every mutant is a dangerous mutant, according to Stryker-"
"Wait, wait. Stryker was in on this?"
"Well, yeah. How else do you think you ended up at Alkali Lake? The whole thing was his idea. Don't interrupt me again. Where was I?" She turned off the main walk to walk on the bare ground.
"Since every mutant is a dangerous mutant..." he prompted.
"Ah. Since every mutant is a dangerous mutant, according to Stryker-" It was amazing how much hatred could be infused into one name. "-most mutants put into ATLANTIS hadn't done anything to merit their incarceration."
"Besides live," Logan said quietly.
"Exactly. You were one of the first occupants of ATLANTIS. You were there when I was brought in. I was twelve. I don't know how old you were. Its been fifteen-sixteen years now, and you still look, sound, smell exactly the same. A little more angry, maybe."
"How'd you end up in ATLANTIS?"
"My parents turned me in," she said bitterly, features hardening into an expressionless mask. Realizing he'd touched a nerve, Logan said nothing. After a moment, she continued. "You didn't have the adamantine skeleton yet. After about six months-"
"How did we know each other?" He winced inwardly as he realized he'd interrupted again, but she didn't seem to notice.
"Cell mates. We both required high-security cells, and Stryker was too cheap at the time to make all the cells adamantium, so he stuck us both in the same one. He changed it after your escape, upgraded the security, tattooed everybody. He figured you'd come back for me." Her tone said she'd figured the same thing.
"Sorry," he said, sure that, had he had his memories, he would have.
"That's okay." She shrugged philosophically. "It taught me about hope, and how you shouldn't have it." She crossed her arms and watched her bare feet make prints in the dirt, as though she had said too much.
Not quite knowing what to say to that, he changed the subject. "So, what do you do?"
"What?" She glanced up, startled.
"Your powers. What do you do that merits a high-security cell?"
She flashed him a grin and jumped up and back, landing in a crouch on the side of the mansion, where she stayed, as casual as if she was sitting on the floor, grinning devilishly at him. "I do that," she said proudly.
"Oh," was all he could think of, which hardly seemed adequate.
"And I do this." She pointed two fingers, her index and middle ones, at a tree behind him, and a string of nearly invisible white stuff shot out, adhering to the tree. She swung, tarzan-style, and he barely remembered to duck before she landed behind him, feet firmly planted, as neatly as any gymnast. "Plus, you taught me how to fight, so..."
"So, apparently, to some, the term 'dangerous' applies," he said dryly, dusting his jeans off. She brushed a leaf off his jacket, then cocked her head at him thoughtfully. "What?"
She blinked. "It's good to see you again, Logan." Her tone was frank, sincere, backed by the open affection in her eyes.
He couldn't think of a thing to say to that, either. So he wrapped his arms around her in a hug that was half apology, half genuine fondness. She tucked her head against his shoulder and sighed, leaning trustingly against him.
In that moment, the world seemed a little less hostile to both of them.
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Review!
