It is dark where she lies now, cold and harsh, evil and hungry for her tears. Old wounds open up wide to meet new ones; one stream of fast flowing blood joins with another to create a river of crimson down her back and limbs, gathering into a pool at her side, swirling and splashing, drowning her away…
She is trying to find some level of fight left in her but he has taken it all, kept it in his jars and test tubes for his own amusement and pleasure.
She is not strong enough he tells her with spite and distaste towards her bitter huddled form: she is not strong enough so she is fair game for his surgical experiments.
She is fair game for all the men here. Especially him, the Wild one.
He does not take pleasure from scientific fixtures; he is too stupid for that. He takes his pleasure from torture and blood and breaching of a woman's young virgin body. Violence beyond anything humane. And he takes it every night.
But tonight is the night when it ends, when she stops the suffering for herself.
One quick slash is all it will take, one quick slash across the throat. She smiles at the thought then at the small shard of glass gripped tightly in her frozen bruised hand.
Tonight is the night.
But then he comes.
She screams in broken chords of protest, the chords she has repeated every night since she was brought here, to no caring ear. No one listens because no one cares because she is fair game. It is all part and parcel of their lifestyle, their way of showing who reins over whom; the strongest over the weakest, the numbers dominating over the lone wolf.
And when he is done, when she can give him no more, he throws her to the back wall and leaves her there without a second glance. Night in, night out, like clockwork. But no more.
She had the glinting shard of hope again; she gains her smile, her mercy from hell.
She is stopped again.
Her voice is gone but her head still screams. She is so close, if she does it now he will no longer be able to stop her. But he does.
The one whom she thought had forgotten her. The Cajun is back to reclaim his kin.
Her brow was sweaty and hot with small beads of fear soaking through her pillows and sheets. Her hair clumped together and the small streak of white that grew from a sea of reddy brown fell across wide unfocused jade eyes.
She felt as she sat there panting and heaving a pair of protective arms wrap around her tense shoulders; a smooth Cajun accent tickling her ear in parallel comfort to the hold.
"Aw Rogue, ma soeur, ma petite, it's okay, it's okay. He aint here anymore, he be gone now, 'member? You here wit' me an' Charlie, an' Hank, an' Logan. It's okay ah promise it's okay.
He rocked her gently in his arms and she sunk into the hold almost falling limp there. Her head rested in his chest; her arms wrapped around his to assure he wouldn't leave.
It was he alone that saw her one weakness and he alone that knew about this. And it was he alone that she would show this to.
He continued to rhyme off his calming words in his rough southern accent and she let them swim across her taut frayed mind. In a moment of silence where he stopped speaking she managed to talk in a hoarse quiet voice back to him.
"Why wont it stop Cajun, why does he still haunt me? It's not fair, I gave him what he wanted, why does he still disturb me?"
He moved his hand away from her side and began to stroke through her damp clingy hair. She warmed to his touch.
"He only haunts you 'cause you let him chere. You worry too much; start carin' for you'self Rogue, den you feel better okay? De two girls aint wit' him so you can stop worryin' 'bout them at least, dat okay?"
She nodded slowly watching the world through half closed eyelids and a misty mind.
"Can I worry 'bout you Remy?"
To himself he smiled. "Just a little. But not as much as I get to worry 'bout you."
She mumbled back to him through her own smile. "No fair Cajun, I'm older."
He shrugged. "So? I'm the guy, the frere here."
Her eyelids were growing too heavy to keep open. He cradled her closer as her hands slipped and her head dropped in fatigue and sleep. He sighed as he watched her sleep in his hold, tired and fed up of seeing her like this. No it wasn't fair and it was even worse due to the fact that he knew Sinister and Sabertooth and the rest of the Patrol were still out there in full force and strength.
If she didn't inject revenge on them first then he would. And Sinister was his.
Phoenix didn't need Hank or Charles or any medical equipment to tell her Storm was beginning to wake. And it was when she was in her room that she found out.
She had been standing at her chosen favourite spot in the mansion, the balcony in her room, when she felt the weak and horribly confused trail of conscious thought through Storm's mind enter into their shared link.
~Storm? ~
Phoenix didn't get an answer but she didn't expect one: it was after all Storm finally waking after four days in a coma.
Her bare feet thudded through the mansion landings and hallways as she ran the memorised route through to the medical rooms and without knocking swung open the gleaming white door where she continued to run in the room. Hank was there as per usual but instead of telling her with a concerned tone to get out or even slow down he stepped back and let Phoenix pour over Storm. She got to her knees at the bedside and took her friend's cold stiff hand, stroking across her smooth dark forehead with the other and speaking with nothing louder than a whisper as she watched Storm shift in her bed and moan in painful protest.
"Storm hon', it's okay, you're okay. You can wake up now, everything's gonna be all right. You here me 'Rider, it'll be all right now."
Storm responded to this much quicker than she had responded to any of the medical practice Hank had put on her over the past few days.
With a smile as wide as she could manage it Phoenix watched as Storm's cold hand wrapped around her own and she moved her head to the touch of the red head.
"Jean?"
In a half laughed choke Phoenix shook her head.
"Don't call me that, remember? Hell Storm, don't ever dare scare me like that again!"
She said this as the young woman's dazed and unfocused azure eyes opened and locked onto Phoenix's jade ones. She smiled when she managed to focus on her.
"Sorry."
Then the eyes, now more fixed and aware, began to scan around the room where she lay. They turned from dazed to scared although she tried to hide it with confusion.
"Where are we? We're not at the hospital are we, did you call the police? Phoenix!"
Phoenix jumped in before her friend could go off on a tangent.
"No, I didn't phone the police, you know I think there as much a bunch of fuckers as you do. But at the same time… You know the Patrol—"
Storm tried to sit up the second Phoenix said it then winced and let out a little yelp of protest to the pain. This was when Hank took his cue to step in.
"We're not the Patrol and there is plenty of time later to explain that but right now," he placed a firm yet gently laid hand on her bruised shoulder, "you need to rest, okay?" He managed to get her to lie back down although Storm screwed up her face is awkward discomfort to the situation. She turned her attention back to Phoenix.
"Are we safe here?"
Phoenix nodded and couldn't help but smile. "We're safer here than we ever where in that crappy apartment, trust me."
"Always do."
The two fell silent as they watched each other's eyes with relief and longing. Phoenix continued to stroke her across the forehead then leant in for a gentle kiss on Storm's soft lips. She placed her forehead on her partners after that.
"Never again, okay?"
Storm nodded and smiled a dark smile. "Now you know Mr Ransom's a dead man."
Phoenix smiled then remembered Rogue. "Ah, well there is one woman who might stop us from doing that."
Storm ignored the questions that came with the comment and went to wrap her arms around Phoenix's neck to pull her lips closer when she remembered they weren't alone. She moved her head to the side and caught sight of Hank who pretended not to be watching although the way he stood subtly crossing his legs told her he had seen enough.
"So this is?"
Phoenix pulled away a little from Storm so she could turn bodily then smiled. She too noticed the way he stood.
"Oh right, that's Hank. He's the man that saved your life."
In hearing his name the young hansom doctor turned and nodded to Storm. She nodded back and took note of the shock of electric blue hair.
"Nice hair."
"Thanks."
"Thanks back to you, for the whole saving gig."
"Not a problem."
With the slightest trace of red across his cheeks and shyness in his soft brown eyes he turned back to his clipboard and test tubes on the desk in front of him. Then Phoenix laughed.
"Oh wait till you meet Logan, you'll love him."
Storm frowned. "I really hope you don't mind me asking but who the bloody hell are Rogue and Logan and whoever else is kicking about?"
"Hello."
Storm turned, now a little annoyed, and in the doorway saw three men and a woman standing there all looking quite relived for her. The oldest of the three, a man easily in his fifties nodded to the other two much younger persons who in turn left for the time being. One set of blue eyes met another and Storm passed a slightly look of loathing. This man was so much like…like him!
She felt a light jab in her mind and heard Phoenix say in a more than amused voice inside her head: ~Play nice now. ~
Quite subtly Storm threw her the finger then watched as the old man began to walk across the floor accompanied by a stick and a dog.
Hank had to speak up about this.
"Charles I know you own this place and all but do you have to bring Mac in here, really?"
Charles nodded firmly and let the dog lope over to Phoenix who reluctantly yet with a smile let the black beast jump on her to demand a clasp.
Storm never took notice; she remained quite content in keeping eye contact with the one she gathered to be called Charles. He was speaking to Phoenix, she could tell without having any telepathic ability of her own. Her suspicion was confirmed when the red head placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and kissed her again lightly on the cheek.
"I'll be back, okay?"
Reluctantly she nodded yes to her okay and watched as she and Hank left. The dog with Charles stayed.
For a long time, or at least what felt like ten minuets, neither said anything. Storm more than a couple of times tried, struggled and failed to sit up more promptly, each time denied to do so by the stabbing pain in her sides and chest. Finally on about her fourth attempt to sit Charles spoke up.
"You have suffered horrendous and unjust wounds Miss Munroe, I would suggest you sit at peace for the time being lest you rip the stitches and re open the wounds."
For a second Storm felt ever vein and blood cell in her body freeze and almost stop along with her heart.
"How did you-- God how did you know my name?!"
Although the panic he saw in Storm's eyes rendered him with guilt, and he knew calling her Miss Munroe would do that, he saw it necessary.
"I know so much more than that Ororo. But why do you call yourself Storm just as Jean calls herself Phoenix? Why do you hide so?"
Now he truly had injected fear and shock into her nerves.
"For good reason that's why! You know how many men would come hunting us down if we gave out our names to every guy we met, any guy actually? Tell me you're not with Joe at least, God tell me you're not!"
Charles began to worry now; all the monitors to the left of the bed told him maybe now was not the time to have called her Ororo. As it seemed the Patrol were not the only ones after the femmes.
"Please Storm, it's okay. I am with no Joe, or the Patrol or any other of your personal foes. I am certainly not here to reveal you to anyone either. You are safe here and you must trust me Storm, you must."
It seemed Storm was more easily panicked than calmed. She clutched her chest and doubled over, squeezing her eyes shut and groaning with the sharp pain caused by the rising panic.
"But you look so much…like him! Please, don't hurt Phoenix. Let her go and you can have me, please…"
Now he began to panic. What she was saying and the way she toned her voice told him her mind was going off - delusional maybe – as fear grew in her scarred mind. He could have shot himself there and then.
"Hank! Hank please get back in here now!"
It took only a few seconds for the doctor to comply with his mentor's frantic yells and he came running in with Phoenix at his heel. He only needed to take one look at Storm to realise his hypotenuse had come true.
"With all due respect sir, I did tell you so."
The kind face old man looked as ashamed and guilty as a man probably could then turned to Phoenix who in turn frowned in her worry.
"What did you do?"
She spoke to him but kept her eyes on Storm as Hank eased her back on her bed, providing her with a sedative not soon after.
Charles was forced to point out the horribly obvious truth to Phoenix.
"Phoenix who do I remind you of? Someone you, or more so Storm, knew a long time ago?"
For a second the young woman simply stared. But he had just touched on a thought that had been nagging at the back of her mind ever her since she had laid eyes on this man. Now she knew why, and it scared her a little. It was a freaky coincidence at the very least.
"Oh God, no wonder she panicked! If you weren't white… Well she'd probably have killed you there and then."
Charles lowered his head. "I knew it, the second she laid eyes on me I heard her mind screaming it. I'm guessing her dad was not the best of men."
Phoenix's answer was a simple shake of her head before she watched Storm laps into unwanted sleep, Hank watching her with saddened eyes at the woman he was so convinced was finally in the clear.
This was going to be a long and difficult stay at Xavier's mansion.
((Chapter five up a.s.a.p))