Title: The Dopplegang Effect
Author: Becka
Chapter 15: The Walls Come Crumbling Down
o
Dr. Henry McCoy stared silently at the four inert bodies on the MedStretchers, and his furry hands clenched at his sides. Warren and Scott had brought them in, and it had seemed strange to him that only this particular "family" survived: Mystique, Quicksilver, the Scarlet Witch, and, of course, Magneto himself.
He didn't need Logan to tell him that whatever had happened to the Brotherhood had been a massacre, plain and simple. The evidence was clear as he stared at the heavily bandaged mutants in his care.
The blue mutant moved to stand beside one of several IVs hooked into Magneto's arms. True, he was a doctor, but he'd seen it proven time and time again that doctors were not infallible. They were not always honest, and despite the code that they swore by, they could be pushed too far, just like everyone else.
It would be so _easy_ to end the life of the mutant who'd tried to kill his teammate and friends. All it would take was a subtle miscalculation, a tiny variation in the dosage of his IV, and Magneto would never wake up. Henry's hand rested on the tiny nozzle for a moment. Sighing, he let his hand fall back to his side and turned to check on his other patients.
"... why..."
Turning back to Magneto, Henry noted two sunken, feverish eyes staring at him. He watched as the mutant struggled to speak. His voice was hoarse, and his throat sounded scratchy and sore.
"... why... did you..."
"Because," the doctor said softly, "There is one thing you've created in your life that I cannot hate. And if anyone has a right to end your life, he does."
There was a poignant pause and Henry said cheerfully in his patented doctor-voice, "Now, you've got awhile before you're up to any sort of standard, so I'd suggest you'd get some rest, Mr. Lenscher."
"... thank..."
"Don't thank me, sir," Henry responded politely. "I'm not doing this for you."
o
In another part of the mansion, Ororo Monroe, known as Storm to some, stared at herself in the mirror. Only moments before, the Professor had called her into his study and told her what Jean had done. He'd also informed her, quite coldly, that because of the red-haired woman's damning actions, she could no longer access her gifts, nor would she be able to anytime in the future until he was sure she was responsible enough to use them. Last, he'd suggested that, though Jean had fed Ororo's emotions, her thoughts were still her own, and that she needed to think about how she might make amends to Xander when he returned.
Gazing into her own dark eyes, Ororo tried to place what she was feeling. The only word that came to mind was... betrayed. Jean was like a sister to her, and the other woman _knew_ why Xander frightened her; Ororo had seen what that sort of power could do to a person's head. She'd seen how it could twist and warp them into creatures she couldn't bring herself to call human.
When Xander had first arrived at the institute, when she'd first found out the horrifying magnitude of his powers, she simply hadn't been able to help herself. The old fears had flooded her every thought. Moreover, every time she so much as _looked_ at him, she had not seen him for who he was. All she had seen was the fearful product of her mind's eye, what he one day might become.
She felt as though she'd betrayed herself, as well. How many of those thoughts had been her own, and how many had been placed there by Jean? Had _any_ of her thoughts been rational? And if, in reality, she had no grounds on which to fear Xander, how could she _ever_ justify the manner in which she'd dealt with him?
There was so much she needed to make right with the dark-haired man. For now, though, all she could really do was wait. When Xander returned, she could only hope he would accept her apology. Because no matter how little she deserved it, she knew that she needed to try.
o
Dual stared at the two photographs his Master had given him; he recognized both men from his training session the day before, and he wondered if this was some sort of pop quiz. "Charles Xavier and Eric Lenscher, right?"
Sinister smiled delightedly. "Correct." He motioned for Dual to continue.
"Um..." The dark-haired mutant's brow furrowed. "The leaders of two enemy organizations, the Brotherhood and the X-men. Xavier is a telepath, and Lenscher can control metals, right?"
"Indeed."
Dual preened under Sinister's approval. For some reason, he found positive attention was extremely important to him.
The older mutant continued, "If we were to capture these two mutants, their organizations might think twice before crossing us. As it happens, both men are meeting at the X-men's headquarters. We may never receive another opportunity like this."
"So, you want me to just waltz in and grab them?" The younger mutant's wings bristled.
"They will not be expecting you so soon after you've come back to us," his Master explained logically. "And even if they were, they no longer have any idea what you're capable of. But if you are not comfortable with this, I will find another way."
"I'll do it!" Dual said quickly. He wasn't comfortable with the idea, but if it was important to Sinister, he'd try his hardest.
"Excellent. Your ability to teleport will be your greatest asset. Technically, you shouldn't teleport without being able to see where you will land, but in your case, it won't really matter. If you teleport yourself into a wall, you can simply walk through it. If you land in the air, you can fly. Even if you found yourself at the bottom of the ocean, you can command the waters to part for you. Besides, ice does not need to breathe. However," there was concern in the deep voice, "You must be careful. If you encounter any of the mutants I showed you, be on your guard. They will know you don't have your memories, and they will try to take advantage of that. You must _not_ let them seduce you with their words; you are far too precious to me to lose again."
The dark-haired mutant nodded. "Right. But, do you really think they'd try anything so... cheap?"
Sinister's smile was enigmatic as he replied, "They've done worse. There was a point in time where that man... Logan..." Distaste was evident in his Master's voice. "... He convinced you that he loved you, and you believed him. That is how you were captured the first time."
Dual's eyes widened. So _that_ was why he'd reacted so strongly to the man's picture. It also explained the sporadic flashes of Logan smiling at him so intimately. Abruptly his eyes narrowed. He might not remember it, but he would _not_ be taken advantage of again. "Thank you for warning me, Master. I will be careful."
o
Xavier sighed softly. He was positioned close to his old friend's bedside, and had been there ever since Henry had notified him that Magneto had been awake for a few minutes. To be so close to Eric was pure torture for him, made worse only by the fact that both his lover, Mystique, and two of his children were present as well.
/...sleep.../ a tiny voice in his mind whispered.
Charles yawned, blinking his eyes and rubbing at them. He was suddenly tired, but he supposed it was no surprise. During the past week, he'd been under severe mental and emotional stress. It would be best if he retired to his room for the night.
/...sleep _now_.../ the voice whispered again.
Well, it probably wouldn't hurt if he took a quick nap in the MedLab. No one would disturb him, and if Magneto stirred, he wouldn't miss it. He laid his head down on the bit of stretcher near Eric's arm and closed his eyes.
o
Dual had studied the layouts Sinister provided for him, making sure to commit every detail to memory. However, when he'd arrived near the mansion, he'd found its defenses were laughable. A subtle mind probe showed both of his targets to be underground, near the center of the house, and with any luck, he'd be in and out before anyone noticed him.
There were several people in the room with his targets, and both Charles and another mutant were awake. Focusing his powers, he whispered for them to sleep. The subtle suggestion was almost instantaneously effective on Henry, but Charles fought it off. He sent a second, slightly stronger, whisper, and was relieved when it was obeyed.
/Wait... how did I know that was Henry. And _why_ would I call him Henry? Beast or McCoy would be more... appropriate./ He quickly dismissed the thought, and took a moment to delve into the mind of the mutant in question. Once he knew where all of the bits of equipment in the room were, he teleported himself there.
His eyes narrowed as he scanned the sleeping faces around him. It seemed that fate was smiling on him, because Xavier and Lenscher were practically on top of one another. Making sure that they were fully asleep, and that they would remain so for awhile, he hoisted both men up and slung one over each shoulder. Envisioning the area he'd just come from, he teleported all three of them outside.
/Well,/ he thought, staring at the mansion, /That was... amazingly easy. I wonder why Sinister was so worried?/
Shrugging, he turned away, but before he could teleport himself back to his Master's base, two voices caught his attention. He faded into the shadows, studying the newcomers through watchful eyes.
o
Logan chewed on the end of his cigar in frustration, pausing occasionally to puff it. He growled, "Reckon it's time ta rethink our little _arrangement_."
Spike glanced at him and responded, "Y'want to 'ave another go at me? Or is that jus' the stress talkin', mate?"
The two of them had decided to patrol the area, mostly because neither one of them could stand just sitting in Xander's room. The man's smell comforted both of them, so they'd both decided to sleep there. There had been a bit of an argument over who got the bed, and because neither one of them wanted to relinquish that particular right, they'd agreed it was big enough for both of them. When Spike had woken up that morning, he'd found the burly mutant's arms around him, and one of the blonde's legs had been slung over Logan's. It had been embarrassing, but neither the vampire nor the mutant had made any mention of it.
"Bit o' both," Logan admitted.
"How's that? Either you want a tussle or y'don't," the blonde replied snarkily.
"Shut yer mouth," came the soft growl. "It ain't that _simple_."
"So explain it to me, mate," came the softer response.
Logan ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pausing to think as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "I... care 'bout the kid. Spent the last four months tryin' ta deny it, but it's God's truth. An' then you come along, an' I start stakin' a claim that I don't have _any_ right ta make. At first... I could justify it. You was younger than me, and it was fine. But now yer not jus' some pup stickin' a nose in where it don't belong, 'cause yer a fuckin' Alpha in yer own right, jus' like me."
The blonde stared at the mutant curiously. In his time here, he had _never_ heard Logan say so much. He got the impression that was a norm for the other man. Come to think of it, the older man _had_ been acting a bit strange since he'd mentioned Prague. Originally, he'd thought it was because of the Scourge of Europe, but he'd never expected anything like this.
Much as he hated to admit it, he'd come to respect Logan in the short time he'd known the other man. The man's viciousness and his taste for blood appealed to Spike's demon, and the brutal honesty and willingness to fight for the whelp didn't hurt either.
"It's un'eard of for two alphas ta share a claim, y'know," Spike said offhandedly.
"Yeah, I know," Logan replied in a tone of voice that conveyed he understood completely.
There was a moment of silence before the blonde said casually. "I'm not too keen on followin' the rules, though. Jus' 'cause somethin's never been done 'afore don't mean it _can't_ 'appen."
The dark-haired mutant gave him an appraising look. He admitted, "Never been much fer rules, either."
The vampire held up his hands. "Not that I'm sayin' I want to shag ya senseless or nothin'. I'm a right possessive bastard, but I can understand not wantin' to let go o' Xan."
"So, where's that leave us, bub?" The corner of Logan's mouth twitched minutely.
"Won't know 'til we get our Xan-pet back, will we? Alls I'm sayin' is, if we 'ave ta share, I'll deal. Fair 'nough?"
"Fair 'nough."
o
Dual was shocked when he discovered one of the speakers was Lo... Wolverine. He'd never seen the other man before, but at the sight of the two men together, he nearly lost it. It was like, whoever he'd been before was pushing out, and a mix of feelings washed over him. There was longing there, mixed with despair and the helpless feeling of rejection.
A part of him wanted to reach out to the two men, but most of him just wanted to flee. His Master had been right to warn him; he hadn't been prepared to deal with these... feelings.
Without a second thought, he teleported himself and his two captive's back to Sinister's lair. He had to because if he'd stayed even a _minute_ more, he didn't know what he would have done.
o
Dual stalked through the hallways, bumping into several of his Master's lackeys. He didn't noticed though; all he could think was that if he dropped off Xavier and Lenscher, he could go to bed and forget about the two men he'd seen. "Master?" he called out as he entered the Control Room.
"Doppelganger," Sinister replied formally from his seat. The older mutant's eyes lit up at the sight of the two unconscious mutants. He summoned a few men to collar them, then had them carried to one of the holding cells.
"May I be dismissed, sir?" Dual's voice was strangely subdued.
"Of course, my boy. Report to me in the morning."
Gratefully, the dark-haired mutant retired to his room. He plopped down on his bed and tried to forget about Logan and the man with blonde hair. After about an hour of restless tossing and turning, he managed to doze off, but their eyes haunted him even in sleep: deep, brown eyes so dark they were nearly black, and bright, blue eyes that flashed gold.
o
Later on in the night, Dual found himself inside a metal cage. Only, somehow he knew it wasn't a real metal cage; somehow, he knew that _this_ time he was trapped inside his very _mind._
There was power around him, pure, mindless power, and it burned so badly but he couldn't let it go. He was dying, and he was taking everyone on the planet with him, but it didn't matter. He'd called on the power, but he no longer controlled it. It twisted and writhed around him like a living creature, and everything kept building and building, and the more he thought about it, the more he fed it, and the more he fed it, the stronger it became, and he knew it was his fault; it was all his fault, and he felt so very, very lost -
- two cool, gentle arms wrapped around him, bringing him back to himself, and though the power still burned around them, it couldn't touch him anymore. A voice whispered in his ear, "Don't do this, pet. Please, this isn't you -
- he heard himself whisper, "... Spike... -
- the power surged again, but he didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want -
- burning him, burning everything, and there was nothing left -
- burning, burning, nothing left -
- nothing left but... -
- SPIKE -
- and the world around him buckled and shattered, and he knew nothing more.
o