Author's Note: I posted an earlier version of this story a loooooong time ago…but I wasn't really satisfied w/ it, so I never continued it. This story has bits n' pieces of the old one (which was called Going Back To Westchester), but it is also going to be different. Eventually it's going to be romance between Logan and my OC, Liara Suzuki, so if you aren't down w/ that….don't read it!!!! Otherwise, please enjoy and review, review, review!
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-men, the X-mansion, Professor X, the city of Salem Center, the state of New York…or really anything at all besides this crappy computer and the 3 bucks in my pocket…oh yeah, and Liara, I own her too.
And, now, without further adieu…
Black Magick
By Starzipan
Chapter One: There's No Place Like Home
It was still a little dark outside when the taxi pulled up to the mansion, barely stopping to let its single passenger slip out into the chilly morning air. After collecting his money, the driver sped off, eager to be out of the shadow of the looming brick building; like most of the people in Salem Center he turned a deaf ear to the rumors about Xavier's Institute, but that didn't mean he wanted any part in anything that went on there. Left alone, the young woman who had emerged from the cab stared up at the building expressionlessly through a pair of sunglasses that seemed ridiculous in the predawn light. After a long while, she absently brought a hand up to trace the raised lettering on a wall plaque, and a slight shadow of emotion crossed her somber face.
Taking a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself to go on, she went to the keypad on the gate and entered her long unused code. The mechanism opened to allow her in, and closed swiftly behind her, almost as if it was swallowing her up. Ignoring the slight claustrophobia of the grounds, she strode up the steps purposefully, until she stood facing the door, eye to eye with the tastefully hideous brass knocker. Her fingers were a step ahead of her, already retyping the code into the electronic pad by the intercom. As foreign as the mansion seemed to her now, it didn't occur to her to knock. She had been promised that she would always have a place here, and despite all the events that had alienated her from it, the mansion was still the closest thing she had to a home.
A mechanical voice chirped from the speaker, "Vocal clarification?"
Absentmindedly putting on the sunglasses, she leaned forward and spoke a name that she had abandoned so long ago it seemed like a dirty secret parting from her tongue. "Liara Suzuki."
"Welcome to the X-mansion, Liara," the computer recited cheerfully. At the same instant, the door sprang open with a click.
A feeling sprang up inside her as her hand grazed the doorknob. It had been so long since she had felt anything at all that it took her a second to recognize the emotion that made her palms begin to sweat and sent a tiny tremor down the back of her neck. She finally placed it: fear, mingled with anticipation. She treasured the flash of emotion, even as it faded into the void of nothingness that occupied too much of her mind. Meanwhile, the door had swung aside, revealing the dark interior of the mansion.
Liara stepped inside, her black boots falling soundlessly on the carpet. She exhaled harshly, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd drawn. The polished antique bench by the door was exactly as it had been, and the sundry collection coats and umbrellas on the rack was hauntingly unchanged. It was all nearly the same as it had been when she'd left, as if she had stepped back seven years and slid into her old life. Perhaps, she thought, they would not even notice she had been gone.
The click of the door echoed loudly in the empty hall, startling Liara from her reverie. Pushing aside the waves of memory that had flooded into her head, she used her powers to do a cursory mental scan of the mansion. Not surprisingly, she was one of the only ones awake at this time of day; not even Xavier was up at four thirty in the morning.
Suddenly realizing how long it had been since she'd last eaten, Liara decided to head for the kitchen. She knew that between Bobby and Hank's love of junk food, and Ororo's wholesome vegetarian tastes she was assured of finding something she liked to eat. She also wondered idly if she would be able to find some decent beer in the staff refrigerator; she was in need of something refreshing, and Scott's Coors Light just wasn't going to cut it.
She found the kitchen in the same place that it had always been in, and she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud at the fact that this surprised her. Feeling far more relaxed, she pushed open the kitchen door and barely had time to gasp before she found herself restrained by an extremely strong arm clutching her neck in chokehold, and something coldly metallic pricking into her temple.
A man's deep voice rumbled at her from the darkness behind her. "Well, now what have we here?"
She wriggled a little, and wondered if she could somehow grab his wrist and snatch the knife she assumed was pressed to her forehead from his hand. In response, the grip tightened.
"Now darlin'," the voice, now tinged with amusement, warned, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
"Bastard," Liara muttered, believing him. His arm felt strong enough to snap her in two, and she really wasn't up for a fight with super mutant, especially considering her empty stomach. She considered biting the beast's arm in protest, but decided to let the scene play out on its own. After all, she hadn't exactly called to announce her arrival, and most of Xavier's boarders had reason to be suspicious of unknown people creeping around the mansion at night.
"Probably," the man agreed lightly, then his tone hardened, "Now let's get down ta business. Who the fuck are you?"
"Magick," She said, offering him the code name she went by these days. She scanned his mind briefly. His barriers were too strong to allow her to hear his thoughts, but she picked up his surface emotions: a startlingly savage mix of aggression, animosity, and – she snorted – male appreciation. Well, at least one of us is enjoying himself, she thought wryly.
"Magick? What are ya, a stripper?" His body rippled with laughter against her back.
"Sorry to disappoint, but it's been a while since I've taken off my clothes for cash," she shot back, bristling at the insult to her name, "For now, I'm just a normal girl trying to get some breakfast."
His grip on her neck loosened a little, and his voice turned perplexed. "Are you one o' tha Cajun's broad's?"
Before she could explain, either with words or with fists, to this unfortunate new edition to the X-Mansion that she was no one's 'broad', the creaking of the kitchen door announced the arrival of someone new.
"Logan?" a sleepy feminine voice questioned in exasperation, accompanied by the flicking on of bright overhead lights, "What are you doing?"
"Jeannie!" The beast, who was apparently the 'Logan' in question, swiveled slightly and loosened his hold on Liara's neck. She heard a ~snikt~ sound, and the cold metal of the 'knife' was withdrawn; the arm, however, remained tightly fastened around her throat.
As her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, Liara made out Jean Grey's familiar silhouette. For a moment, she looked exactly as she had at seventeen, pale, slender, and serious beyond her years. All at once Liara discovered an irritating capacity for nostalgia that she had never known she had possessed. She recalled with a pang the distant past in which the woman standing before her had been her best friend.
As her vision sharpened, Liara saw the redhead clearly, and saw the ways in which she had changed. Her girlishly long hair was layered around her chin, and her face was more stunningly angular. This older Jean Grey had a strong confidence that she held around herself like a cloak, even in her bathrobe in the middle of the night; Liara knew that if she had seen this new Jean on the street she wouldn't have known her.
Drowsily unaware of who Logan was holding captive, Jean asked, "Who is that?"
Liara felt Logan shrug behind her. "One o' th' Cajun's females I found sneaking around lookin' fer a midnight snack," he said, assuming. Liara raised an eyebrow at the tone, and wondered what kind of a snack he meant exactly.
"I am not–" Liara began, only to be cut off by Jean.
"Remy is back with Rogue," Jean said, informatively.
Logan tensed. "Then who the hell is this?"
"I'm–"
Jean, who had woken up enough to scan Liara's mind, interrupted again, this time with disbelief in her voice. "Liara? Magick, is that you?" she asked, wonderingly.
"Flamin' hell," Logan growled, confusion quickening to irritation, "Would one of you ladies be so kind as to explain?"
Sensing that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be in one piece long enough to start talking, Liara spoke. "I'm Black Magic. Liara Suzuki…if you want. I used to go to school here, until…" she hesitated, not caring to delve into the past, "until circumstances changed. I guess you could say I've come home for a visit."
"She's telling the truth, Logan, you can release her," Jean said quietly, eyeing the hairy arm around Liara's neck. Thus freed, Liara hurriedly moved away from her captor. She was startled to be grabbed immediately by Jean, in what turned out to be an embrace, not an attack. It was the first time in seven years that anyone had touched Liara without intending to hurt her.
"You're back," Jean murmured, reluctantly ending the embrace. Inadvertently, Liara heard the rapid succession of Jean's thoughts. She was startled at the intensity of her old friend's joy; the X-men had missed her, after all.
"Liara!" Jean exclaimed again, squeezing her hand and interrupting Liara's thoughts.
"Magick," Liara corrected, seeking refuge in the comfort of her moniker. It had been years since she had trusted anyone enough to let them call her by her real name, and now it grated.
Magic," Jean corrected absentmindedly, then turned to Liara in wonderment, one hand on each of her shoulder's, as if she had to touch her to believe that she was real. "You're back…we all thought…Magick! I have to go tell Charles!" and with that, Jean ran out of the room, turning back only to cast an incredulous smile at Liara, before she
hurried to wake the rest of the mansion.
Fighting down the urge to run after Jean, Liara searched for something to distract her from her emotion. As if on cue, her stomach growled loudly. Turning away from the door, Liara eyed
the refrigerator with glee.
A snort from the other side of the room reminded her she was not alone. "Hungry?" asked her former captor sarcastically.
She spared him a glare, taking in his physical appearance and trying her best not to do a double take at the insolent man lounging shirtless, beer in hand, against the counter. He was built…perfectly put together, but like a fighter, not an athlete. With a smirk, she entertained thoughts of what he must use all those muscles for. Then she narrowed her eyes at the beer in his left hand.
"Done lookin', darlin'?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her.
She didn't even bother to reply to his flippant remark. As nice as his body was, it was a shame he had absolutely no idea of how to treat a lady. "Is that a Molson's?" She asked, trying not to salivate.
He seemed disgruntled that she didn't bat her lashes at him and play the flirt. *Screw you too*, Liara replied mentally, unwilling to exert the effort necessary to form a retort.
"Yeah," he grunted. Then a second later it seemed to occur to him that she wasn't asking just to make small talk. "They're in the fridge."
Liara took that as an offer, and grabbed herself one, as well as a Styrofoam container of leftover Pad Thai, from the refrigerator. Cold beer in one hand, a forkful of Westchester's most delicious Asian cuisine in the other, and a vicious man who seemed to be able to sprout metal claws at will watching over her like a hawk, Liara experienced a degree of contentment that had been foreign to her in recent years; it was true what they said, there really was no place like home.
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