Hey everyone! Ok, I WAS going to give up on this, but I guess not! I can't
believe how many people have been reviewing lately! Tell ya'll what, as
long as I get more reviews, I'll keep this up, ok? I have some pretty
interesting ideas for this fic... ;-)
Songbreeze: Hey! Thanks for the review! I like your screen name! It's very original! (
Chronicles Bailey: Hey! Thanks for reviewing. Where'd you get your username from?
And to everyone else who reviewed WAAAAAAAAAAAAY back in January, lol: Hey everyone! Didja miss me?I'm BAACK! So START REVIEWING! LOL.
Chapter 3
"Auntie 'Ro, don't worry so much! I'll be perfectly fine! It's just down the street. I'll be back in a few, ok?"
"Well...I guess, Ian. Just...be careful, alright?"
"Always."
Ororo smiled as her nephew kissed her abruptly on the cheek, muttered a quick 'love ya', and hurried to join his friends down the street, where they waited to head over to the skate-park.
Ororo sighed and leaned against a wall of the school, watching the teenage boy disappear around the corner as he laughed with his group of 'homies'(as he so often referred to them as); she normally didn't have a problem with him going off to skate with them.
He'd always returned home perfectly fine, with maybe a few scrapes and bruises, but always a big grin and a huge hug to greet her with.
So why was she so anxious now?
She supposed it was the recent news reports of the serial murders that had been going on; already, over a dozen people had been found brutally slaughtered; no one could find any connection to them at all.
Some were men, some women...one was even a child, a young boy by the name of Jason Michaels.
Simply knowing that someone out there was on a killing spree and had already killed someone close to Ian's age made Ororo's skin crawl with horror; she didn't know WHAT she would do if her nephew turned up dead.
She shook off her fears though as she turned to walk into the mansion, reasoning with herself that Ian was a very careful child, oftentimes rambunctious and goofy, but never foolish.
He would be perfectly fine.
Quite suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of white light, and Ororo was temporarily blinded as she turned the knob to the front door and stumbled inside, arms held in front of her to steady herself.
By the time she could agai8n see, she was aghast to find herself not in the mansion, but outside still, near the skate-park where Ian was.
It was much later then she remembered; the sky was dark and starless, and the way the ivory clouds streamed through it gave Ororo goosebumps.
"What is going on here?" she whispered as she stepped through an ethereally shadowy alleyway.
There was absolutely no sound but that of her heartbeat and footsteps as she slipped silently along in the shadows, her eyes searching keenly for some sign of where she was.
A harshly icy wind cut through her like a knife, whistling over the bare path like a hungry wolf, passing her by as quickly as it had come, leaving her shivering miserably.
"Where am I?"
The silence was broken suddenly by a choked sob, and Ororo whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.
The crying continued and wouldn't stop, only growing louder and reverberating around Ororo until it became a shrill wail filled with such terror and agony that the woman had to cover her ears in fear.
As she did so she backed against a wall and slid to the ground, closing her eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears that stung her eyes.
"MAKE IT STOP!" she shrieked, shaking her head, "STOP IT!"
But the sound only grew louder, pulsating like a live creature, reaching for Ororo's throat and closing in around her.
Breathing hard, Ororo scrambled to her feet and began running, racing down the endless alleyway as fast as she could while the creature chased after her.
It wouldn't stop crying out for help, and as she ran she tried desperately to close her ears to the sound, "I CAN'T HELP YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE, LEVE ME ALONE!
It was then that she felt her feet fall over something in her path and she tumbled over it, hitting her head on the ground.
Just before she felt herself drifting into darkness, her eyes slid into position and she caught sight of her nephew, lying in a pool of his own blood.
His eyes stared at her bleakly, unblinking.
He was dead.
So was she.
There was another blaze of light, and Ororo Munroe sat up in bed screaming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were many reasons that Jean Grey-Summers was Ororo Munroe's best friend; and this was one of them.
It was exactly 4:24 in the morning.
The sky was the periwinkle blue of early morning, and stars still lingered, waiting for the sun to rise.
Everyone in the mansion was still asleep, happily snoring away in dreamland—except for Jean and Ororo, who were sitting in the kitchen, g=facing each other and sipping at steaming mugs of hot cocoa.
"It was exactly the same?" Jean was asking, her eyes still bloodshot from her broken sleep.
Ororo nodded, resting her chin in her hand as she stared miserably at the ceiling, "Exactly the same. I thought that my visits with Meghan would stop them—take my eyes off of myself and my miseries, but...no. The nightmare is more vivid then ever before."
Jean nodded in understanding, sipping tenderly at her drink, "Well, you can't expect things like this to just go away, 'Ro. Ian...Ian was a very spectacular kid. When he disappeared, everyone went into a panic. Especially since...well, the murders and all. When the police..."
She hesitated, setting her mug down and staring across at Ororo; she didn't need to read minds to know how much it hurt Ororo to talk about this.
Slowly, she reached across the bar and squeezed her friend's hand, "When the police found him, it was really rough for all of us, especially you. It's only been a year, 'Ro. Give yourself time to grieve. He was your nephew, you know."
Ororo laughed bitterly, "Yes. I know."
Jean ran a hand through her thick hair, sighing heavily; she wished almost more than Ororo that these nightmares would stop.
They'd been going on almost nonstop now since Ian's death, and they were bound to drive Ororo—or her—crazy.
Her thoughts were broken by Ororo's soft voice, "I'm sorry, Jean. I donlt mean to sound so bitter. I just...I hate that dream. It's like...like reliving his death for him, over and over again. I...wish I knew who'd done it."
Her eyes clouded over then, and as if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance, "If IU knew who did it, I would kill them with my bare hands."
Just the way she said that made Jean shudder, "Ororo...the police are still working on it. They'll deal with whoever did it..."
"Not if I get to them first."
Jean frowned, "Don't talk that way. It gives me the creeps."
Ororo inhaled deeply as she glanced at Jean, "Sorry. I'll...try to calm down."
"Thanks." Jean smiled brightly, "Let's go upstairs now, and try to catch a few more hours of sleep before school starts, K?"
Ororo forced a smile, "Sure."
The two women were soon heading up the stairs, chatting nonchalantly about the day ahead of them.
Jean hardly noticed the devilish-looking clouds that had collected above the school slowly dispersing as Ororo's mood calmed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Meghan, why don't you tell me how you feel today? Happy? Sad? Angry? Do you feel scared? Or what about tired? Are you feeling tired today, Meghan?"
Meghan stared blankly ahead, stubbornluy refusing to say a word.
Doctor Wrights tried again, "You don't have to actually TALK, Meg. You can write it down, if you'd lie.Or you can draw a picture. Would you like that?"
He slid a poiece of paper and a crayon across the table to her as he spoke, smiling encourasgingly.
Ororo, who stood with Mark against the wall nearby, leaned forward anxiously as Meghan's eyes flicked to the crayon.
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath at the simply gesture, all of them hoping for her to do the simple act of drawing; they all exhaled in disappointment when her gaze returned to the window.
Doctor Wrights sat back and in sighed confusion, "I don't understand it. No matter what we try, it just doesn't seem to break through. She's built up such a strong shell that we can't get through."
Ororo had been visiting Meghan loyally for a week now, and since she'd come every day, she'd seen no more of her strange panic attacks.
In fact, every time she and Mark were in the room with her, she simply sat motionless with her eyes glued to one spot; it was almost more disturbing then the fits, in Ororo's opinion.
Lately, Ororo had been sitting in on Meghan's sessions with the therapists, interested in seeing how they worked with her and trying to see for herself how she could help.
Mark stayed with her loyally, standing nearby constantly to watch Meghan's reactions to the doctors, always willing to sit with her and hold her in his lap if it made her feel better; of course, this was noticed by Ororo and given the proper consideration.
"He's very kind, for a man," she pondered, watching as he sat across from Meghan and doodled on some paper, "I wonder how he's become so good with kids...?"
As soon as the colors left, Ororo joined Mark and Meghan at the table, admiring Mark's works of art (Meghan had yet to even stop staring at the wall.
"You like?" Mark asked jokingly as he colored in a picture of a sun.
Ororo nodded enthusiastically, "Oh, yes, I especially like the one with the red flower. It's so vibrant."
They both chuckled slightly and Mark slid the piece of paper over to Meghan, "That one's for Meg, here. I'm sure she likes flowers. Don't you, Meg?"
Meghan's eyes seemed to gloss over with something of a memory, and Ororo saw a flickering shadow of horror pass over her face for a mere second.
Frowning, she reached out and took the girl's hand in her own, "Meg...? What's wrong? Don't you like the picture?"
Meghan started and looked around, eyes resting on Ororo's for an instant; Ororo saw how much pain and sorrow they stored, and felt her heart break.
She forced a smile and hesitantly reached out to touch her hair; Meghan's eyes followed her hand suspiciously, her heart shuddering in her chest.
Ororo smiled at her softly, "It's ok, Meghan. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise..."
Mark watched in awe, mouth hanging open slightly, as he watched Meghan's tense form relax.
"How'd you do that?" he asked after a moment as Meghan's eyes cleared and she actually studied Ororo, "I mean...we have the BEST doctors studying her...and they use these tried-and-true techniques that totally fail...and then here YOU come along, and just hold her hand...and she COMPLETELY opens up to you. That's just...amazing."
Ororo felt her cheeks burning with pride as Meghan's eyes bored into her own; they held no more fear now, only trust.
"I...I don't know how I do it. I...guess she must just like me."
Meghan looked away then and glanced at Mark as she reached for a blank piece of paper; hesitantly, she slid it closer and then picked up a crayon, keeping her eyes on Mark the entire time.
Mark grinned, "Are you gonna draw us a picture, Meg?"
Meghan gazed at him a moment longer, and then bent over her work, leaning so far over it that no one could see what she was doing.
Mark shook his head and smiled, "She sure has her own way about things, huh?"
Ororo sighed absently, "Yes...she does."
Meghan glanced up at Ororo, gazed at her a moment, and returned to her drawing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end of the day came abruptly and cruelly, bringing with it the faintest traces of a thunderstorm.
The dark sky above crackled with electricity, and the icy wind blew with suvch force that the power lines outside the insane asylum heaved dangerously towards the streets, causing the lights within the building to flicker eerily.
Meghan sat stark still in her chair, still bent over her drawing, still focused entirely upon the piece of paper before her.
Ororo had left a while ago, at the closing of visiting hours, and Mark had escorted her away; Meghan was now trembling slightly as she kept one eye on the door that led into the cold room she sat in.
She shifted nervously as the clock on the wall high above her ticked endlessly, its clicking and whirring echoing around her.
That was the only sound.
Her crayon on the paper was silent.
So was her breathing.
She almost wanted to scream, just to make certain there was still sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She swallowed and focused on her paper, at the red lines and curves and spirals; she really wasn't sure WHAT this was supposed to be a picture of.
All she knew was that it had to be RED.
It all had to be very, very red.
She could feel her heart shivering in her chest and she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.
Her eyes flicked to the door as footsteps sounded.
They came closer, stopped at the door, and then walked on.
She exhaled.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She was starting to hate that clock and its incessant noise.
She looked up at it and watched the hands move for a while.
Then she stopped, because it made her feel like she was falling over.
She glanced around the dark room and started drawing again, softly whsipering words to herself.
"Safe now. Safe here. No more hurt. Safe. She's gone. All gone. Forever."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The crayon moved smoothly over the paper, and she felt her tense muscles relax.
"She left. Forgot 'bout me. Left me alone. She can't...can't..."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
For some reason, Meghan's pulse began to race again, her heart leaping into her throat; something was happening.
Meghan paused, listening.
Footsteps coming down the hall.
She whimpered, swallowed, and glanced at the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It was a blank face, staring at her without emotion or mercy.
Meghan's words were blocked by her dry mouth, "...can't...hurt me..."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The footsteps stopped at the door.
The handle turned with the faintest of squeak.
Meghan turned her eyes quickly back to her paper and shook her head, "She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The door opened with a slight groan and someone stepped into the room.
The door shut.
"She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me."
It was really becoming some kind of protective chant.
Meghan's hand shook violently as she attempted to color in the flower she'd just drawn.
"She can't hurt me."
A hand slid the deadbolt into the 'lock' position.
Meghan closed her eyes, feeling her muscles go rigid, "...she can't hurt me."
The footsteps that had walked fluidly around and behind her stopped just as a cool hand gripped the base of her neck and Mystique's breath whispered across her ear, "That's right, Darling. I CAN'T hurt you...as long as you do me a little favor..."
Songbreeze: Hey! Thanks for the review! I like your screen name! It's very original! (
Chronicles Bailey: Hey! Thanks for reviewing. Where'd you get your username from?
And to everyone else who reviewed WAAAAAAAAAAAAY back in January, lol: Hey everyone! Didja miss me?I'm BAACK! So START REVIEWING! LOL.
Chapter 3
"Auntie 'Ro, don't worry so much! I'll be perfectly fine! It's just down the street. I'll be back in a few, ok?"
"Well...I guess, Ian. Just...be careful, alright?"
"Always."
Ororo smiled as her nephew kissed her abruptly on the cheek, muttered a quick 'love ya', and hurried to join his friends down the street, where they waited to head over to the skate-park.
Ororo sighed and leaned against a wall of the school, watching the teenage boy disappear around the corner as he laughed with his group of 'homies'(as he so often referred to them as); she normally didn't have a problem with him going off to skate with them.
He'd always returned home perfectly fine, with maybe a few scrapes and bruises, but always a big grin and a huge hug to greet her with.
So why was she so anxious now?
She supposed it was the recent news reports of the serial murders that had been going on; already, over a dozen people had been found brutally slaughtered; no one could find any connection to them at all.
Some were men, some women...one was even a child, a young boy by the name of Jason Michaels.
Simply knowing that someone out there was on a killing spree and had already killed someone close to Ian's age made Ororo's skin crawl with horror; she didn't know WHAT she would do if her nephew turned up dead.
She shook off her fears though as she turned to walk into the mansion, reasoning with herself that Ian was a very careful child, oftentimes rambunctious and goofy, but never foolish.
He would be perfectly fine.
Quite suddenly, there was a brilliant flash of white light, and Ororo was temporarily blinded as she turned the knob to the front door and stumbled inside, arms held in front of her to steady herself.
By the time she could agai8n see, she was aghast to find herself not in the mansion, but outside still, near the skate-park where Ian was.
It was much later then she remembered; the sky was dark and starless, and the way the ivory clouds streamed through it gave Ororo goosebumps.
"What is going on here?" she whispered as she stepped through an ethereally shadowy alleyway.
There was absolutely no sound but that of her heartbeat and footsteps as she slipped silently along in the shadows, her eyes searching keenly for some sign of where she was.
A harshly icy wind cut through her like a knife, whistling over the bare path like a hungry wolf, passing her by as quickly as it had come, leaving her shivering miserably.
"Where am I?"
The silence was broken suddenly by a choked sob, and Ororo whirled around, searching for the source of the noise.
The crying continued and wouldn't stop, only growing louder and reverberating around Ororo until it became a shrill wail filled with such terror and agony that the woman had to cover her ears in fear.
As she did so she backed against a wall and slid to the ground, closing her eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears that stung her eyes.
"MAKE IT STOP!" she shrieked, shaking her head, "STOP IT!"
But the sound only grew louder, pulsating like a live creature, reaching for Ororo's throat and closing in around her.
Breathing hard, Ororo scrambled to her feet and began running, racing down the endless alleyway as fast as she could while the creature chased after her.
It wouldn't stop crying out for help, and as she ran she tried desperately to close her ears to the sound, "I CAN'T HELP YOU! LEAVE ME ALONE! PLEASE, LEVE ME ALONE!
It was then that she felt her feet fall over something in her path and she tumbled over it, hitting her head on the ground.
Just before she felt herself drifting into darkness, her eyes slid into position and she caught sight of her nephew, lying in a pool of his own blood.
His eyes stared at her bleakly, unblinking.
He was dead.
So was she.
There was another blaze of light, and Ororo Munroe sat up in bed screaming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There were many reasons that Jean Grey-Summers was Ororo Munroe's best friend; and this was one of them.
It was exactly 4:24 in the morning.
The sky was the periwinkle blue of early morning, and stars still lingered, waiting for the sun to rise.
Everyone in the mansion was still asleep, happily snoring away in dreamland—except for Jean and Ororo, who were sitting in the kitchen, g=facing each other and sipping at steaming mugs of hot cocoa.
"It was exactly the same?" Jean was asking, her eyes still bloodshot from her broken sleep.
Ororo nodded, resting her chin in her hand as she stared miserably at the ceiling, "Exactly the same. I thought that my visits with Meghan would stop them—take my eyes off of myself and my miseries, but...no. The nightmare is more vivid then ever before."
Jean nodded in understanding, sipping tenderly at her drink, "Well, you can't expect things like this to just go away, 'Ro. Ian...Ian was a very spectacular kid. When he disappeared, everyone went into a panic. Especially since...well, the murders and all. When the police..."
She hesitated, setting her mug down and staring across at Ororo; she didn't need to read minds to know how much it hurt Ororo to talk about this.
Slowly, she reached across the bar and squeezed her friend's hand, "When the police found him, it was really rough for all of us, especially you. It's only been a year, 'Ro. Give yourself time to grieve. He was your nephew, you know."
Ororo laughed bitterly, "Yes. I know."
Jean ran a hand through her thick hair, sighing heavily; she wished almost more than Ororo that these nightmares would stop.
They'd been going on almost nonstop now since Ian's death, and they were bound to drive Ororo—or her—crazy.
Her thoughts were broken by Ororo's soft voice, "I'm sorry, Jean. I donlt mean to sound so bitter. I just...I hate that dream. It's like...like reliving his death for him, over and over again. I...wish I knew who'd done it."
Her eyes clouded over then, and as if on cue, thunder rumbled in the distance, "If IU knew who did it, I would kill them with my bare hands."
Just the way she said that made Jean shudder, "Ororo...the police are still working on it. They'll deal with whoever did it..."
"Not if I get to them first."
Jean frowned, "Don't talk that way. It gives me the creeps."
Ororo inhaled deeply as she glanced at Jean, "Sorry. I'll...try to calm down."
"Thanks." Jean smiled brightly, "Let's go upstairs now, and try to catch a few more hours of sleep before school starts, K?"
Ororo forced a smile, "Sure."
The two women were soon heading up the stairs, chatting nonchalantly about the day ahead of them.
Jean hardly noticed the devilish-looking clouds that had collected above the school slowly dispersing as Ororo's mood calmed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Meghan, why don't you tell me how you feel today? Happy? Sad? Angry? Do you feel scared? Or what about tired? Are you feeling tired today, Meghan?"
Meghan stared blankly ahead, stubbornluy refusing to say a word.
Doctor Wrights tried again, "You don't have to actually TALK, Meg. You can write it down, if you'd lie.Or you can draw a picture. Would you like that?"
He slid a poiece of paper and a crayon across the table to her as he spoke, smiling encourasgingly.
Ororo, who stood with Mark against the wall nearby, leaned forward anxiously as Meghan's eyes flicked to the crayon.
Everyone seemed to be holding their breath at the simply gesture, all of them hoping for her to do the simple act of drawing; they all exhaled in disappointment when her gaze returned to the window.
Doctor Wrights sat back and in sighed confusion, "I don't understand it. No matter what we try, it just doesn't seem to break through. She's built up such a strong shell that we can't get through."
Ororo had been visiting Meghan loyally for a week now, and since she'd come every day, she'd seen no more of her strange panic attacks.
In fact, every time she and Mark were in the room with her, she simply sat motionless with her eyes glued to one spot; it was almost more disturbing then the fits, in Ororo's opinion.
Lately, Ororo had been sitting in on Meghan's sessions with the therapists, interested in seeing how they worked with her and trying to see for herself how she could help.
Mark stayed with her loyally, standing nearby constantly to watch Meghan's reactions to the doctors, always willing to sit with her and hold her in his lap if it made her feel better; of course, this was noticed by Ororo and given the proper consideration.
"He's very kind, for a man," she pondered, watching as he sat across from Meghan and doodled on some paper, "I wonder how he's become so good with kids...?"
As soon as the colors left, Ororo joined Mark and Meghan at the table, admiring Mark's works of art (Meghan had yet to even stop staring at the wall.
"You like?" Mark asked jokingly as he colored in a picture of a sun.
Ororo nodded enthusiastically, "Oh, yes, I especially like the one with the red flower. It's so vibrant."
They both chuckled slightly and Mark slid the piece of paper over to Meghan, "That one's for Meg, here. I'm sure she likes flowers. Don't you, Meg?"
Meghan's eyes seemed to gloss over with something of a memory, and Ororo saw a flickering shadow of horror pass over her face for a mere second.
Frowning, she reached out and took the girl's hand in her own, "Meg...? What's wrong? Don't you like the picture?"
Meghan started and looked around, eyes resting on Ororo's for an instant; Ororo saw how much pain and sorrow they stored, and felt her heart break.
She forced a smile and hesitantly reached out to touch her hair; Meghan's eyes followed her hand suspiciously, her heart shuddering in her chest.
Ororo smiled at her softly, "It's ok, Meghan. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise..."
Mark watched in awe, mouth hanging open slightly, as he watched Meghan's tense form relax.
"How'd you do that?" he asked after a moment as Meghan's eyes cleared and she actually studied Ororo, "I mean...we have the BEST doctors studying her...and they use these tried-and-true techniques that totally fail...and then here YOU come along, and just hold her hand...and she COMPLETELY opens up to you. That's just...amazing."
Ororo felt her cheeks burning with pride as Meghan's eyes bored into her own; they held no more fear now, only trust.
"I...I don't know how I do it. I...guess she must just like me."
Meghan looked away then and glanced at Mark as she reached for a blank piece of paper; hesitantly, she slid it closer and then picked up a crayon, keeping her eyes on Mark the entire time.
Mark grinned, "Are you gonna draw us a picture, Meg?"
Meghan gazed at him a moment longer, and then bent over her work, leaning so far over it that no one could see what she was doing.
Mark shook his head and smiled, "She sure has her own way about things, huh?"
Ororo sighed absently, "Yes...she does."
Meghan glanced up at Ororo, gazed at her a moment, and returned to her drawing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The end of the day came abruptly and cruelly, bringing with it the faintest traces of a thunderstorm.
The dark sky above crackled with electricity, and the icy wind blew with suvch force that the power lines outside the insane asylum heaved dangerously towards the streets, causing the lights within the building to flicker eerily.
Meghan sat stark still in her chair, still bent over her drawing, still focused entirely upon the piece of paper before her.
Ororo had left a while ago, at the closing of visiting hours, and Mark had escorted her away; Meghan was now trembling slightly as she kept one eye on the door that led into the cold room she sat in.
She shifted nervously as the clock on the wall high above her ticked endlessly, its clicking and whirring echoing around her.
That was the only sound.
Her crayon on the paper was silent.
So was her breathing.
She almost wanted to scream, just to make certain there was still sound.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She swallowed and focused on her paper, at the red lines and curves and spirals; she really wasn't sure WHAT this was supposed to be a picture of.
All she knew was that it had to be RED.
It all had to be very, very red.
She could feel her heart shivering in her chest and she inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself.
Her eyes flicked to the door as footsteps sounded.
They came closer, stopped at the door, and then walked on.
She exhaled.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
She was starting to hate that clock and its incessant noise.
She looked up at it and watched the hands move for a while.
Then she stopped, because it made her feel like she was falling over.
She glanced around the dark room and started drawing again, softly whsipering words to herself.
"Safe now. Safe here. No more hurt. Safe. She's gone. All gone. Forever."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The crayon moved smoothly over the paper, and she felt her tense muscles relax.
"She left. Forgot 'bout me. Left me alone. She can't...can't..."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
For some reason, Meghan's pulse began to race again, her heart leaping into her throat; something was happening.
Meghan paused, listening.
Footsteps coming down the hall.
She whimpered, swallowed, and glanced at the clock.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
It was a blank face, staring at her without emotion or mercy.
Meghan's words were blocked by her dry mouth, "...can't...hurt me..."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The footsteps stopped at the door.
The handle turned with the faintest of squeak.
Meghan turned her eyes quickly back to her paper and shook her head, "She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me."
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The door opened with a slight groan and someone stepped into the room.
The door shut.
"She can't hurt me. She can't hurt me."
It was really becoming some kind of protective chant.
Meghan's hand shook violently as she attempted to color in the flower she'd just drawn.
"She can't hurt me."
A hand slid the deadbolt into the 'lock' position.
Meghan closed her eyes, feeling her muscles go rigid, "...she can't hurt me."
The footsteps that had walked fluidly around and behind her stopped just as a cool hand gripped the base of her neck and Mystique's breath whispered across her ear, "That's right, Darling. I CAN'T hurt you...as long as you do me a little favor..."