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 Two: The Plot Thickens (and here you thought there wouldn't be one)
The X-mansion was, without a doubt, a building of function. Its numerous rooms were classrooms and libraries, dorm rooms where students were sheltered from the world so that they might study it, and, on certain lower levels, research laboratories and hospital rooms; there was even a hangar where a certain plane, the existence of which defied modern science, was kept. The people who moved within the mansion walls had a purpose; they were on their way to school, or to work, or to save the world. It was understandable that few of them noticed the singular beauty of the building that housed them.
Liara, long deprived of beauty, noticed. She stood alone in the middle of a long hallway, one that she had often walked down as a student, late to class more often than not. Behind her, on one side of the hall, ran a series of polished oak doors belonging to several classrooms. The side of the hall she faced was set with enormous glass windows, their elaborately leaded panes reminiscent of cathedral architecture.
Standing with your back against the wall with the doors, the ground was not visible through the windows, and you felt a certain sensation of vertigo, as if you were falling into the broad blue sky above the mansion. When Jean and Liara had discovered this as children, they had nicknamed the mansion the 'Castle on a Cloud', in reference to the song in Les Miserables. Looking back, Liara was startled at the accuracy of the childhood metaphor; for most of the children coming to Charles Xavier's school, the mansion was a real life version of Cosette's fantasy.
A bell rang, startling Liara. She smiled a little to herself as all the doors along the hallway instantly sprang open, and children poured into the hallway. For a second, as she watched them through her ever present dark glasses, she was able to recall the joy of being released from class; then, watching the students talking and joking together, the feeling slipped away, and was replaced with a terrible emptiness. The innocence that these children took for granted had been stripped from her. She knew that, even in memory, she could never have it back.
As the hall slowly emptied, Liara walked down the hall and stood in front of one of the doors. She stared at the plaque on the door, which read 'Charles Xavier'. He must know she was there, although he did not reach out to her with his mind. He left the decision in her hands, and she hated him for understanding her, for knowing that she must do this alone.
She set her hand upon the brass knob, which was startlingly warm. She could smell the tangy scent of the metal, like blood, and, that scent in her mind, she turned the knob.
Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, his agile fingers moving over a typewriter. Despite his revolutionary work in the fields of science, he had ever preferred to use the anachronistic device instead of a computer. "Ah, Liara," he said, without looking up.
He finished typing, and then turned to regard her. The lines around his eyes deepened as a warm smile appeared on his face and did not falter as he took in her face, which was gaunt behind her black glasses. "I see, Miss Suzuki, that you still have not learned to knock."
Seven years ago she would have blushed at his reprimand. Now she shrugged; she was no longer the type of person who was expected to knock. She stood before him, aware of his appraisal. Now, at last, he extended his mind to hers, skimming through the surface layers, and coming up short against the barriers that she maintained that barred deeper contact. She felt his sadness like a tangible third entity in her mind.
Sighing and withdrawing his psyche, Xavier looked up at her. She briefly sensed weariness in his demeanor, but he blocked before she could be sure. Her ordeal had affected him deeply, she knew; he had been the one who had sat beside her bed as she recovered, who had healed her mind as Jean and Hank had healed her body. He had also been the one who let her go when he understood that there was no more that he could do.
"Professor," she said. She wanted to express the gratitude and warmth she felt for him, but when she spoke, her voice was, as ever, cold.
"Why have you come home, Liara?" He asked, curiosity clear in his voice.
She shivered, home. "I have something to tell you," she said softly.
He was silent, unwilling to prompt her. He had given her all the help that he could, and now she must help herself.
"He," she forced out in a dispassionate tone, "Has someone."
Xavier sat up straighter, more alert. "How do you know?"
"I." she began, and could not finish.
"Sit, Liara," Professor Xavier said kindly.
She did not. Instead she schooled herself, until everything but the ice was gone from her. Then she was ready to tell her story. "For the past two years, I have been.researching his facilities. There is a location in Africa, deep within the Sahara, where I spent a lot of time.researching. While the facility appears to be a satellite beacon outpost, I discovered another operation going on. Unbeknownst to the civilian personnel, there is a portion of the outpost that has nothing to do with interstellar communications, and is instead devoted to certain medical studies." She paused. "Mutant medical studies."
"For the first part of the time that I was there, most of their work was either theoretical or on the molecular level. But recently, they began screening live candidates. And they have one, a little girl, who is perfect for their project." She finished, and though her tone had remained level, she was surprised to find her hands curled into tight fists. She forced them open and folded them behind her back.
He still did not speak, and she felt anger twinge inside her. "Professor. You must help!" she said, her voice remaining level, but containing a fierce urgency.
"Did you try to free her?" he inquired.
She bit her lip and exhaled audibly. "Yes," she said, almost inaudibly. She raised her head so that her eyes, behind her glasses, met his. "I could not do it alone." She hated him briefly for forcing her to admit her inadequacy.
A ghost of a smile returned to Xavier's face. "No one can, you know," he said matter-of-factly.
She glared at him; perhaps everyone else couldn't, but she could.
"Of course I will help you, child," Xavier said, before Liara could contradict him. "We shall have a meeting tonight to discuss the best plan of action. Until then, you may settle in. I believe your old rooms are available."
Liara was not certain if she was glad to hear that or not; she longed to slide seamlessly back into life at the mansion, yet she knew that it was impossible. Sleeping in her old bed would be a way of deluding herself into thinking that she could regress back to her former self. Liara had learned the hardest way that the past was an avenue that was closed; only the present was real. However, she said none of this to the Professor. She just nodded, in thanks, if not in agreement.
As she turned to walk out of Xavier's office, she heard him say, "Welcome back, Liara. Welcome home."
Black Magick
By Starzipan
Chapter Two: The Plot Thickens (and here you thought there wouldn't be one)
The X-mansion was, without a doubt, a building of function. Its numerous rooms were classrooms and libraries, dorm rooms where students were sheltered from the world so that they might study it, and, on certain lower levels, research laboratories and hospital rooms; there was even a hangar where a certain plane, the existence of which defied modern science, was kept. The people who moved within the mansion walls had a purpose; they were on their way to school, or to work, or to save the world. It was understandable that few of them noticed the singular beauty of the building that housed them.
Liara, long deprived of beauty, noticed. She stood alone in the middle of a long hallway, one that she had often walked down as a student, late to class more often than not. Behind her, on one side of the hall, ran a series of polished oak doors belonging to several classrooms. The side of the hall she faced was set with enormous glass windows, their elaborately leaded panes reminiscent of cathedral architecture.
Standing with your back against the wall with the doors, the ground was not visible through the windows, and you felt a certain sensation of vertigo, as if you were falling into the broad blue sky above the mansion. When Jean and Liara had discovered this as children, they had nicknamed the mansion the 'Castle on a Cloud', in reference to the song in Les Miserables. Looking back, Liara was startled at the accuracy of the childhood metaphor; for most of the children coming to Charles Xavier's school, the mansion was a real life version of Cosette's fantasy.
A bell rang, startling Liara. She smiled a little to herself as all the doors along the hallway instantly sprang open, and children poured into the hallway. For a second, as she watched them through her ever present dark glasses, she was able to recall the joy of being released from class; then, watching the students talking and joking together, the feeling slipped away, and was replaced with a terrible emptiness. The innocence that these children took for granted had been stripped from her. She knew that, even in memory, she could never have it back.
As the hall slowly emptied, Liara walked down the hall and stood in front of one of the doors. She stared at the plaque on the door, which read 'Charles Xavier'. He must know she was there, although he did not reach out to her with his mind. He left the decision in her hands, and she hated him for understanding her, for knowing that she must do this alone.
She set her hand upon the brass knob, which was startlingly warm. She could smell the tangy scent of the metal, like blood, and, that scent in her mind, she turned the knob.
Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, his agile fingers moving over a typewriter. Despite his revolutionary work in the fields of science, he had ever preferred to use the anachronistic device instead of a computer. "Ah, Liara," he said, without looking up.
He finished typing, and then turned to regard her. The lines around his eyes deepened as a warm smile appeared on his face and did not falter as he took in her face, which was gaunt behind her black glasses. "I see, Miss Suzuki, that you still have not learned to knock."
Seven years ago she would have blushed at his reprimand. Now she shrugged; she was no longer the type of person who was expected to knock. She stood before him, aware of his appraisal. Now, at last, he extended his mind to hers, skimming through the surface layers, and coming up short against the barriers that she maintained that barred deeper contact. She felt his sadness like a tangible third entity in her mind.
Sighing and withdrawing his psyche, Xavier looked up at her. She briefly sensed weariness in his demeanor, but he blocked before she could be sure. Her ordeal had affected him deeply, she knew; he had been the one who had sat beside her bed as she recovered, who had healed her mind as Jean and Hank had healed her body. He had also been the one who let her go when he understood that there was no more that he could do.
"Professor," she said. She wanted to express the gratitude and warmth she felt for him, but when she spoke, her voice was, as ever, cold.
"Why have you come home, Liara?" He asked, curiosity clear in his voice.
She shivered, home. "I have something to tell you," she said softly.
He was silent, unwilling to prompt her. He had given her all the help that he could, and now she must help herself.
"He," she forced out in a dispassionate tone, "Has someone."
Xavier sat up straighter, more alert. "How do you know?"
"I." she began, and could not finish.
"Sit, Liara," Professor Xavier said kindly.
She did not. Instead she schooled herself, until everything but the ice was gone from her. Then she was ready to tell her story. "For the past two years, I have been.researching his facilities. There is a location in Africa, deep within the Sahara, where I spent a lot of time.researching. While the facility appears to be a satellite beacon outpost, I discovered another operation going on. Unbeknownst to the civilian personnel, there is a portion of the outpost that has nothing to do with interstellar communications, and is instead devoted to certain medical studies." She paused. "Mutant medical studies."
"For the first part of the time that I was there, most of their work was either theoretical or on the molecular level. But recently, they began screening live candidates. And they have one, a little girl, who is perfect for their project." She finished, and though her tone had remained level, she was surprised to find her hands curled into tight fists. She forced them open and folded them behind her back.
He still did not speak, and she felt anger twinge inside her. "Professor. You must help!" she said, her voice remaining level, but containing a fierce urgency.
"Did you try to free her?" he inquired.
She bit her lip and exhaled audibly. "Yes," she said, almost inaudibly. She raised her head so that her eyes, behind her glasses, met his. "I could not do it alone." She hated him briefly for forcing her to admit her inadequacy.
A ghost of a smile returned to Xavier's face. "No one can, you know," he said matter-of-factly.
She glared at him; perhaps everyone else couldn't, but she could.
"Of course I will help you, child," Xavier said, before Liara could contradict him. "We shall have a meeting tonight to discuss the best plan of action. Until then, you may settle in. I believe your old rooms are available."
Liara was not certain if she was glad to hear that or not; she longed to slide seamlessly back into life at the mansion, yet she knew that it was impossible. Sleeping in her old bed would be a way of deluding herself into thinking that she could regress back to her former self. Liara had learned the hardest way that the past was an avenue that was closed; only the present was real. However, she said none of this to the Professor. She just nodded, in thanks, if not in agreement.
As she turned to walk out of Xavier's office, she heard him say, "Welcome back, Liara. Welcome home."