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: Reviews are gold dust, and duly appreciated.
12
Something in the Professor's voice made Blaze stop in her tracks to the door, turn and look right back at him. There were no lies in his eyes. Laura dropped hers, looked at her lacerated arms and knew she had done that to herself. Her stomach rolled, and she thought she would faint.
"I didn't, I haven't hurt.........." Her voice was frantic, a child? If she had hurt it.........
"No, Laura." Xavier clicked his wheelchair into forwards, approached Blaze and took one of her shaking hands in his. "Your daughter isn't here, and outside of this room no one knows she even exists, not even her father. Would you trust me as the only one to carry that knowledge, or do you want it back for yourself?"
"Not even her father? Who?" Blaze had a strong feeling she might know, and that she might not approve. "You're telling me I got back in bed with him again after the last time?" Xavier frowned, the Blaze he knew wasn't so crude, and that wasn't really an image he wanted to have in his head either.
"You once told me that your daughter and Gambit are the two most important people in the world to you. You would do anything, have given so much for both of them and at great cost to yourself."
"I don't remember." She stated again like a mantra. "And I can't even imagine what he did to convince me to forgive him for what he did........." Xavier said nothing, knowing that Blaze's own natural curiosity would do the rest of the work for him. "Alright. Lets try this."
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It was raining now. Not nice, fine, soaking rain that would cleanse the city and let it begin fresh in the morning. This was horrid, polluted rain that fell in drops like tar, slimy, clinging like mould or vomit. Like the sky was bleeding. Blaze had nowhere to go tonight, she'd be sleeping rough like she hadn't done since she was fifteen. Since she'd killed her parents.
That memory fought to swamp her then, the most overwhelming of all her memories. Xavier put himself between Blaze and that dark bubble, gasping as the force of it bashed against him. But he was a rock on which the wave broke and fell away. That nightmare would not drag Blaze further away from herself, not tonight. Blaze didn't notice what he had done.
Her stomach cramped. Pain spasmed through her right side. She fell to her knees in a puddle, hands grasping out to stop her from falling on her face. Her hands weren't lacerated here she noticed. Had they ever been? She didn't know. She threw up, all the alcohol she'd consumed that day trying to escape from her at once. Her arms shook; her breathing quickened and she fell sideways. She was going to die, and Jacobi had had nothing to do with it. She'd done this to herself, through not trusting Gambit to have a plan. She'd killed herself because she hadn't spotted that he would never just abandon her. But he would draw enemy fire away from her, put his own life in danger to protect her.
For the first time in months, she desperately hoped he was okay.
Too late now, she was already dead. See, right there in front of her, her body. Eugh, blood. Old blood, she'd been shot? She didn't remember that part. She leaned over her own corpse and tried to examine the damage. Yep, shot through the heart.
"This isn't right." She told the emptiness, the muggy moonlight in the New Orleans graveyard. She didn't know how she knew she was in New Orleans, but that's where she was. "I'm not in New Orleans, I'm in Chicago." She frowned, her thoughts making little sense, almost as though she was dreaming. But she didn't remember dreams, a self that was far away told her, different thought process, photographic memory wasn't involved. So why was she in this dream now?
It wasn't important. Being dead was a bit more drastic.
"I haven't been shot either." She told the emptiness with a hint of stating the obvious in her voice. In front of her the corpse started to change. Bullet entry and exit wounds faded. Now her throat had been slit, and there was even more old blood encrusting her hair, covering her throat and breasts and the ground.
"This is ridiculous." Blaze started forwards, hands on her hips and lips pouting. "Whoever you are, stop it. I'm not dead yet."
The corpse started to rot. Maggots ran through her flesh, pupated and hatched into flies. Her face collapsed, at least now if didn't look so much like her. Apart from her hair, that was still glossy and life-like. It moved in the graveyard wind that carried the sweet stench of rotting flesh to her like swamp gas.
"Oh give it a rest Remy! I'm not dead damn it!"
She didn't know how she knew it was him. Maybe it was the over-emphasis of it all, overly dramatic just like Gambit. Maybe it was the detail of her hair, not something she ever gave much thought to. It didn't matter either, she decided. With the old magic of naming things, as soon as she'd spoken his name, he was there.
A/N: Reviews are gold dust, and duly appreciated.
12
Something in the Professor's voice made Blaze stop in her tracks to the door, turn and look right back at him. There were no lies in his eyes. Laura dropped hers, looked at her lacerated arms and knew she had done that to herself. Her stomach rolled, and she thought she would faint.
"I didn't, I haven't hurt.........." Her voice was frantic, a child? If she had hurt it.........
"No, Laura." Xavier clicked his wheelchair into forwards, approached Blaze and took one of her shaking hands in his. "Your daughter isn't here, and outside of this room no one knows she even exists, not even her father. Would you trust me as the only one to carry that knowledge, or do you want it back for yourself?"
"Not even her father? Who?" Blaze had a strong feeling she might know, and that she might not approve. "You're telling me I got back in bed with him again after the last time?" Xavier frowned, the Blaze he knew wasn't so crude, and that wasn't really an image he wanted to have in his head either.
"You once told me that your daughter and Gambit are the two most important people in the world to you. You would do anything, have given so much for both of them and at great cost to yourself."
"I don't remember." She stated again like a mantra. "And I can't even imagine what he did to convince me to forgive him for what he did........." Xavier said nothing, knowing that Blaze's own natural curiosity would do the rest of the work for him. "Alright. Lets try this."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It was raining now. Not nice, fine, soaking rain that would cleanse the city and let it begin fresh in the morning. This was horrid, polluted rain that fell in drops like tar, slimy, clinging like mould or vomit. Like the sky was bleeding. Blaze had nowhere to go tonight, she'd be sleeping rough like she hadn't done since she was fifteen. Since she'd killed her parents.
That memory fought to swamp her then, the most overwhelming of all her memories. Xavier put himself between Blaze and that dark bubble, gasping as the force of it bashed against him. But he was a rock on which the wave broke and fell away. That nightmare would not drag Blaze further away from herself, not tonight. Blaze didn't notice what he had done.
Her stomach cramped. Pain spasmed through her right side. She fell to her knees in a puddle, hands grasping out to stop her from falling on her face. Her hands weren't lacerated here she noticed. Had they ever been? She didn't know. She threw up, all the alcohol she'd consumed that day trying to escape from her at once. Her arms shook; her breathing quickened and she fell sideways. She was going to die, and Jacobi had had nothing to do with it. She'd done this to herself, through not trusting Gambit to have a plan. She'd killed herself because she hadn't spotted that he would never just abandon her. But he would draw enemy fire away from her, put his own life in danger to protect her.
For the first time in months, she desperately hoped he was okay.
Too late now, she was already dead. See, right there in front of her, her body. Eugh, blood. Old blood, she'd been shot? She didn't remember that part. She leaned over her own corpse and tried to examine the damage. Yep, shot through the heart.
"This isn't right." She told the emptiness, the muggy moonlight in the New Orleans graveyard. She didn't know how she knew she was in New Orleans, but that's where she was. "I'm not in New Orleans, I'm in Chicago." She frowned, her thoughts making little sense, almost as though she was dreaming. But she didn't remember dreams, a self that was far away told her, different thought process, photographic memory wasn't involved. So why was she in this dream now?
It wasn't important. Being dead was a bit more drastic.
"I haven't been shot either." She told the emptiness with a hint of stating the obvious in her voice. In front of her the corpse started to change. Bullet entry and exit wounds faded. Now her throat had been slit, and there was even more old blood encrusting her hair, covering her throat and breasts and the ground.
"This is ridiculous." Blaze started forwards, hands on her hips and lips pouting. "Whoever you are, stop it. I'm not dead yet."
The corpse started to rot. Maggots ran through her flesh, pupated and hatched into flies. Her face collapsed, at least now if didn't look so much like her. Apart from her hair, that was still glossy and life-like. It moved in the graveyard wind that carried the sweet stench of rotting flesh to her like swamp gas.
"Oh give it a rest Remy! I'm not dead damn it!"
She didn't know how she knew it was him. Maybe it was the over-emphasis of it all, overly dramatic just like Gambit. Maybe it was the detail of her hair, not something she ever gave much thought to. It didn't matter either, she decided. With the old magic of naming things, as soon as she'd spoken his name, he was there.