**The School is woken at night by screaming that will not stop. What is the
source? Can the X-Men help one of their own (OC) live through her worst
nightmare- the past? A/N: higher rating than my usual stuff **
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or their world, and am making no money from this story. Corrinth owns Dr Ilehana Xavier. I own Blaze.
A/N: This story is a departure from my usual preferred action/adventure/angst prototype, inspired by the music video to Muse's 'Hysteria'. Other than that, please note a higher than usual rating for this story; you have been warned. Reviews are gold dust, and duly appreciated.
01
Screams.
Echoing through the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, waking the children, making them afraid.
Where were they coming from? Had someone tried to attack them once more? No usual nightmare these, the mansion was well used to them.
Screams of pain, screams of waking terror, they did not, could not stop. Not screams of a child, but of a young woman, a member of the X-Men.
Who was it?
A crowd at the bedroom door, adults and young people, was all panicked faces woken too quickly from sleep. Gambit, shirtless, slammed his shoulder hard into the locked door. The wood buckled, the screaming did not. Nightcrawler and Storm exchanged frantic looks, neither wanting to approach the enraged Cajun. Logan, also shirtless and ignoring the sleep in his eyes added his strength to the door, and suddenly it burst open.
Screams. Always screaming. Pain and blood and screaming.
She sat on the outside, looking in. Watching herself screaming, sat in the middle of the floor bleeding and screaming and not stopping. She didn't recognise the people who started to come in. Except for one.
The room was trashed. Not just messy, she was always messy, the redhead. Spontaneous and emotional and messy. But she didn't usually break everything in sight. Not a usual night when the vase of dead flowers she'd neglected to tidy away was suddenly thrown against the opposite wall. Not just dead now, shattered and broken and betrayed. Like her. Books, her precious books, torn pages from spine. Furniture overturned, CD player fractured and split across the floor, CDs in pieces, tiny pieces. The TV was smashed, looked like somebody had tried to put a fist through it. The curtains billowed calmly in the wind of the open window.
There was nobody but the young woman in the room. Nobody else could have done this. She'd done it all to her own things, trashed the place and was screaming.
"Help her........." Gambit could barely whisper, his voice broken and desperate. Nobody moved, all hanging in the doorway in shock. He flipped, shouting above the screaming, "Somebody help her!"
Logan pulled his friend away. Pulled Gambit away from the door and pinned him to the wall of the corridor; pinned his arms before the Cajun blew something up. Gambit struggled, but Logan was resilient, talking all the while in a hushed snarl to try and calm the thief. It didn't work. The screaming was in his blood now, too.
"We're tryin', Remy." Not often the Wolverine used Gambit's first name. Not often Remy's best friend was sat in the middle of her room, bleeding and screaming. "But Blaze ain't lookin' too with it. We don't wanna make her worse."
"Merde!" Remy screamed over Blaze's screaming. "Where a telepath when we fuckin' need one!" Logan had to agree, there were no telepaths here right now; both the Professor and his daughter Ilehana were away.
"Oh shit." Bobby had ventured into the room, acting braver against the torrent of screams than he felt. "Blaze? Blaze, can you hear me?" He trod as if on glass, which wasn't far from the truth. Blood dripped. The screaming did not stop. She did not look at him. She did not know who he was. "She's bleeding badly!" Bobby called back to the X-Men waiting at the door. "Its everywhere........." There was awe in his voice that there could even be so much blood.
"You stay there!" Wolverine ordered Gambit, taking charge. "Bobby, back off. She can kill you, but she'll find it harder to get rid of me." The threat in his voice sent shivers up Cyclops' spine, but the team leader was quite happy to let Logan take charge, instead placing a hard hand on Gambit's shoulder as the Cajun turned on Wolverine. "Easy, Gambit. Logan's not gonna hurt Blaze."
In the room, the redhead's eyes focused. Blood saturated the carpet, was still dripping, if slower now from her left forearm. He could see how much had split, plastered her shirt to her breasts and belly, blood on her face, blood in her long red curls. She looked at him, brown eyes unrecognising as he reached out instinctively to pull her injured arm up above her head, apply pressure, anything to stop the bleeding. The screaming stopped.
Blaze lifted her right hand. Part of the TV screen was still in her fist. A weapon turned against him, edges of the shard of glass looked very sharp. Logan froze.
A frown crossed Blaze's usually pretty face, and then she gasped. The glass slid from her fingers. Her hand bled now, but she didn't have the strength to scream again. Her slight body slid sideways, shaking becoming convulsions becoming a fit. Gambit threw Cyclops aside, pushed Logan away. He held her, ignoring the blood, cushioning her head. He wanted to scream.
Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men or their world, and am making no money from this story. Corrinth owns Dr Ilehana Xavier. I own Blaze.
A/N: This story is a departure from my usual preferred action/adventure/angst prototype, inspired by the music video to Muse's 'Hysteria'. Other than that, please note a higher than usual rating for this story; you have been warned. Reviews are gold dust, and duly appreciated.
01
Screams.
Echoing through the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, waking the children, making them afraid.
Where were they coming from? Had someone tried to attack them once more? No usual nightmare these, the mansion was well used to them.
Screams of pain, screams of waking terror, they did not, could not stop. Not screams of a child, but of a young woman, a member of the X-Men.
Who was it?
A crowd at the bedroom door, adults and young people, was all panicked faces woken too quickly from sleep. Gambit, shirtless, slammed his shoulder hard into the locked door. The wood buckled, the screaming did not. Nightcrawler and Storm exchanged frantic looks, neither wanting to approach the enraged Cajun. Logan, also shirtless and ignoring the sleep in his eyes added his strength to the door, and suddenly it burst open.
Screams. Always screaming. Pain and blood and screaming.
She sat on the outside, looking in. Watching herself screaming, sat in the middle of the floor bleeding and screaming and not stopping. She didn't recognise the people who started to come in. Except for one.
The room was trashed. Not just messy, she was always messy, the redhead. Spontaneous and emotional and messy. But she didn't usually break everything in sight. Not a usual night when the vase of dead flowers she'd neglected to tidy away was suddenly thrown against the opposite wall. Not just dead now, shattered and broken and betrayed. Like her. Books, her precious books, torn pages from spine. Furniture overturned, CD player fractured and split across the floor, CDs in pieces, tiny pieces. The TV was smashed, looked like somebody had tried to put a fist through it. The curtains billowed calmly in the wind of the open window.
There was nobody but the young woman in the room. Nobody else could have done this. She'd done it all to her own things, trashed the place and was screaming.
"Help her........." Gambit could barely whisper, his voice broken and desperate. Nobody moved, all hanging in the doorway in shock. He flipped, shouting above the screaming, "Somebody help her!"
Logan pulled his friend away. Pulled Gambit away from the door and pinned him to the wall of the corridor; pinned his arms before the Cajun blew something up. Gambit struggled, but Logan was resilient, talking all the while in a hushed snarl to try and calm the thief. It didn't work. The screaming was in his blood now, too.
"We're tryin', Remy." Not often the Wolverine used Gambit's first name. Not often Remy's best friend was sat in the middle of her room, bleeding and screaming. "But Blaze ain't lookin' too with it. We don't wanna make her worse."
"Merde!" Remy screamed over Blaze's screaming. "Where a telepath when we fuckin' need one!" Logan had to agree, there were no telepaths here right now; both the Professor and his daughter Ilehana were away.
"Oh shit." Bobby had ventured into the room, acting braver against the torrent of screams than he felt. "Blaze? Blaze, can you hear me?" He trod as if on glass, which wasn't far from the truth. Blood dripped. The screaming did not stop. She did not look at him. She did not know who he was. "She's bleeding badly!" Bobby called back to the X-Men waiting at the door. "Its everywhere........." There was awe in his voice that there could even be so much blood.
"You stay there!" Wolverine ordered Gambit, taking charge. "Bobby, back off. She can kill you, but she'll find it harder to get rid of me." The threat in his voice sent shivers up Cyclops' spine, but the team leader was quite happy to let Logan take charge, instead placing a hard hand on Gambit's shoulder as the Cajun turned on Wolverine. "Easy, Gambit. Logan's not gonna hurt Blaze."
In the room, the redhead's eyes focused. Blood saturated the carpet, was still dripping, if slower now from her left forearm. He could see how much had split, plastered her shirt to her breasts and belly, blood on her face, blood in her long red curls. She looked at him, brown eyes unrecognising as he reached out instinctively to pull her injured arm up above her head, apply pressure, anything to stop the bleeding. The screaming stopped.
Blaze lifted her right hand. Part of the TV screen was still in her fist. A weapon turned against him, edges of the shard of glass looked very sharp. Logan froze.
A frown crossed Blaze's usually pretty face, and then she gasped. The glass slid from her fingers. Her hand bled now, but she didn't have the strength to scream again. Her slight body slid sideways, shaking becoming convulsions becoming a fit. Gambit threw Cyclops aside, pushed Logan away. He held her, ignoring the blood, cushioning her head. He wanted to scream.