Disclaimer: C'mon, think about it. If I owned even one X-Man, I'd..well,
I'd probably pull a Magneto and turn all the idiot sheep into my slaves!
MWHAAAHAAHAA!!!!
Ahem! Sorry about that. Now you see why I don't own an X-Man.
Lilvior: Thank you for the kind words. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Oh, and your stuff's not crap, either! (But the Logan/Remy m/m was just creepy.) LOL
"JEEEEAANNNN!!!!!"
The guttural roar of the Wolverine was heard from nearly every end of the Xavier estate.
He was only curious. He hadn't seen Jean since breakfast yesterday morning. She was flirty, coy. But Scott had noticed and snapped. Worse, he snapped at Logan; misguidedly, in Logan's opinion.
But Logan knew Jean loved Scott; Scott knew it, too. But the man wasn't exactly "in touch" with his emotions. Like Logan had any place observing that. Oh they loved each other, no doubt there. But the life of an X-Man is rarely an easy one. And, while Logan doesn't like to admit it, the life of a Summer's brother is decidedly less simple.
When he first came to the school, Logan didn't have a very high opinion of Scott Summers. He was acting way too old for his age, and carrying the problems of a world he didn't understand. He felt the world was against him, and was always on edge. Admirable, but Logan saw no reason for a child to have these traits. It would be years before Logan learned how Scott lost his family at an early age; or learned of the machinations of Mr. Sinister, shortly thereafter; or met Madelyne Pryor and Scott's son, Nathan, who would be sent through time thanks to the ancient one, En Saben Nur.
Though he may not have realized it consciously, the truth was that Logan came to respect Scott over the years because he understood Scott, better than he may have understood himself. The fundament difference was Jean. Logan and Scott's lives were rife with pain and loss. But Scott always had Jean to confide in, or to console him, whether he realized it or not. Logan had no one; no one that could ever say with certainty ", I understand."
"Where is SHE?!" cried the Canadian, desperately trying to hold onto sanity.
After knocking more than once, Logan had picked up a faint scent, even from the doorway: CREED. Immediately he unsheathed his Adamantium claws and kicked in the door to the boathouse. There was a fair amount of blood at the foot of the steps, and the kitchen tiles were covered in it. After ransacking the downstairs, Logan had bounded to the second floor in two motions. Now he found himself ready to do something he might regret.
"I don't know!!" came his leader's response. Scott was groggy, like he had just woken up from a 3-night bender. His mouth was dry, his face was numb, and with Logan crouched over him in bed, he'd swear (HOPE) he was hallucinating. Then it dawned on him; he couldn't FEEL Jean. Their psychic link was gone.
"Blood's all over the house, Slim," the shorter man stated accusingly. "Mind telling me how you failed to notice?"
Scott motioned towards his glasses, which Logan interpreted as an offense, and thrust his claws down toward the man below him.
"ENOUGH!!!"
The professor's cry was a mental one, but froze both men in their steps. Hank had carried the professor up the stairs in a single leap, but was transfixed at the sight before him. He let out a sigh of relief when he noticed there was no blood on Logan's claws; it was not he responsible for the damage downstairs, but who?
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Xavier. "And who's blood-JEAN." Charles' eyes went wide as he realized he could not sense Jean.
Hank was getting worried. "Professor?"
The professor had sensed this altercation had begun over Jean. He'd felt the emotions brewing since the previous morning. He'd meant to talk with Scott about it, but felt the need to let his children solve their own problems. Now Jean was gone, and Charles was very afraid.
Scott placed his feet on the floor, holding his head. "What about Jean?" he asked wearily. "And what's all this on the floor?"
"Blood, Scott," replied Hank.
"JEAN'S blood," corrected Logan as he shoved Henry out of his path. Leaning in close to Scott he accused "It's all over downstairs. Looks like you trailed it up here yerself. Now, what the hell is goin' on here?"
"Logan," began Xavier ", how do you know it's Jean's blood?"
Logan glanced over his left shoulder, very annoyed at the question. With a gesture, he taps his nose.
With a heavy heart, the professor lowered his head at this. He hadn't wanted to hear that Logan's renowned sense of smell had verified his accusation. He didn't want to believe that all this blood was, in fact, his star pupil's. Then, his head rose with new-found determination. "Hank," he started ", take a sample of the blood from here and downstairs. Verify Logan's hypothesis."
"At once, sir," replied Hank. There was no pun. No long-winded quote. No humor. One of his oldest, dearest friends is missing. Possibly worse. Henry McCoy merely sat the professor at the foot of the bed, and went to work.
Charles Xavier placed a hand on his first student's shoulder. "Scott, what happened?"
"It was Creed," interrupted Logan.
"CREED?!" the other men exclaimed in unison.
"His stench is all over the boathouse," continued Logan. "Even here, in the.bedroom." Logan's body tensed at this statement. Scott Summers went rigid. Charles Xavier remained cool.
The professor, turning his attention back to Scott, questioned the young leader. "Scott, what happened yesterday?"
"I don't know," Scott languished.
"Don't think about Jean, son," Xavier replied softly. He knew Scott was obviously upset right now. But Xavier was a professor, after all. He knew that Scott and Jean's psychic rapport must have been disconnected sometime yesterday, before she was.abducted. And he could sense the boy's disorientation, which was not uncommon considering the circumstances. But Professor Xavier had conditioned Scott to be a detached leader; Scott had faced worse fates than this and remained in control. Even in the face of such a dire situation, Scott was acting out of character. He dared not enter the younger man's mind for fear it would unbalance him. "What do you remember from yesterday?"
Scott slowly began the tale: his altercation with the police, his near- collision on the highway, the tuition-sized ticket he received, the over- heating car, and his long trek home in the rain. (Oddly, he left out a few details: his anger, memories of Creed and, of course, his snide remarks about Logan's giri.)
During Scott's explanation of the day prior, the professor called out to his favorite pupil from the original class: ("Hank?")
Hank McCoy was only downstairs, trying to find a damp sample of blood in the kitchen. But he was used to the professor communicating telepathically, regardless of distance.
("Yes, Professor?")
("I'd like you to take a blood sample from Scott, as well. Be subtle.")
("Professor?")
("I'll explain later, Hank. Trust me.")
Back upstairs, Scott still sat on the side of the bed while a consoling Xavier sat next to him. Logan stood at the window, arms folded across his chest, flaring with intensity.
"Alright, this is bullshit," growled Logan. "Jean's gone, Creed's responsible; I'll be back."
"Logan, I have neither the time, nor the patience to deal with your desire for vengeance. We don't know if Sabretooth even has Jean. I give you a lot of leeway here, Logan, due in large part to your convoluted association with Victor Creed. Considering what's at stake, I will do so no longer. You will do this my way or you will not be involved. And if that doesn't sit well with you, then I will include you.without your consent!"
Xavier's words hit Logan like a freight train. Never before had Xavier the Stoic EVER threatened his cognitive faculties. "Nice bluff, Chuck," chuckled the shorter man. "But y'know ya need me in on this. It's Creed."
"I haven't time for grandstanding," replied Xavier. His eyes narrowed, coldly. "And I DON'T bluff."
Logan's fists clenched. For a moment (which seemed to last an eternity), Scott thought for certain the Canadian roughneck would unsheathe his claws and attack the crippled patriarch of the X-Men.
Charles knew better. "Creed has taken another woman that you love. You want to do something about that. While I appreciate that sentiment, I cannot let you intercede this investigation; I have no wish to violate your mind, but will do so to safeguard a woman that I love."
Logan pondered the professor's words. He knew Charles only wanted to find Jean, as soon as humanly possible. "Alright Chuck, I'll do it your way.for now."
"Thank you, Logan. ("X-Men! Report to the War Room, immediately!")
Logan then lifted the professor into his arms and started down the stairs.
"Logan?" began Scott.
Logan stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to look at Summers. He felt bad for having the audacity to accuse Scott of having anything to do with Jean's abduction.
Scott, still sitting in bed, shook his head. "Nevermind," he muttered.
Logan turned to head back down the stairs when something caught his attention.
"What is it, Logan?" asked Charles.
"I dunno," replied Logan, curiously. "Something.familiar. I wanna say.evil. Just can't place it."
Cyclops lifted himself out of bed as the other men left. His head was still spinning, and his hearing was fading in and out. He stumbled into the bathroom to wash up, before heading to the War Room. Glancing in the mirror, he turned to faucet on and splashed some cold water in his face. Returning his gaze to the mirror, Scott is horrified to see the very skin peeling off his face and down the drain! "What the hell is happening to me?" exclaimed Scott as he curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. Then he saw, in the reflection of the shower stall, one who could possibly answer all of Scott's questions and more.
Logan and Xavier were halfway back to the mansion when Logan stopped dead in his tracks. "That's what it was!" he growled, and turned back towards the boathouse.
"Logan!" Xavier cried after the hairy man. "What is-"
"Can't you read him, Chuck?" Logan called back. "He's in there with Hank and Cyke!"
Charles Xavier closed his eyes and concentrated. Suddenly, his eyes went wide as dinner plates. ("Henry! Scott! Get out of the boathouse, now! He's in there with you!!")
The Beast was puzzled by this statement. Were Sabretooth here, Logan would have found him, immediately. ("Who, Professor?")
("SINISTER!")
Ahem! Sorry about that. Now you see why I don't own an X-Man.
Lilvior: Thank you for the kind words. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. Oh, and your stuff's not crap, either! (But the Logan/Remy m/m was just creepy.) LOL
"JEEEEAANNNN!!!!!"
The guttural roar of the Wolverine was heard from nearly every end of the Xavier estate.
He was only curious. He hadn't seen Jean since breakfast yesterday morning. She was flirty, coy. But Scott had noticed and snapped. Worse, he snapped at Logan; misguidedly, in Logan's opinion.
But Logan knew Jean loved Scott; Scott knew it, too. But the man wasn't exactly "in touch" with his emotions. Like Logan had any place observing that. Oh they loved each other, no doubt there. But the life of an X-Man is rarely an easy one. And, while Logan doesn't like to admit it, the life of a Summer's brother is decidedly less simple.
When he first came to the school, Logan didn't have a very high opinion of Scott Summers. He was acting way too old for his age, and carrying the problems of a world he didn't understand. He felt the world was against him, and was always on edge. Admirable, but Logan saw no reason for a child to have these traits. It would be years before Logan learned how Scott lost his family at an early age; or learned of the machinations of Mr. Sinister, shortly thereafter; or met Madelyne Pryor and Scott's son, Nathan, who would be sent through time thanks to the ancient one, En Saben Nur.
Though he may not have realized it consciously, the truth was that Logan came to respect Scott over the years because he understood Scott, better than he may have understood himself. The fundament difference was Jean. Logan and Scott's lives were rife with pain and loss. But Scott always had Jean to confide in, or to console him, whether he realized it or not. Logan had no one; no one that could ever say with certainty ", I understand."
"Where is SHE?!" cried the Canadian, desperately trying to hold onto sanity.
After knocking more than once, Logan had picked up a faint scent, even from the doorway: CREED. Immediately he unsheathed his Adamantium claws and kicked in the door to the boathouse. There was a fair amount of blood at the foot of the steps, and the kitchen tiles were covered in it. After ransacking the downstairs, Logan had bounded to the second floor in two motions. Now he found himself ready to do something he might regret.
"I don't know!!" came his leader's response. Scott was groggy, like he had just woken up from a 3-night bender. His mouth was dry, his face was numb, and with Logan crouched over him in bed, he'd swear (HOPE) he was hallucinating. Then it dawned on him; he couldn't FEEL Jean. Their psychic link was gone.
"Blood's all over the house, Slim," the shorter man stated accusingly. "Mind telling me how you failed to notice?"
Scott motioned towards his glasses, which Logan interpreted as an offense, and thrust his claws down toward the man below him.
"ENOUGH!!!"
The professor's cry was a mental one, but froze both men in their steps. Hank had carried the professor up the stairs in a single leap, but was transfixed at the sight before him. He let out a sigh of relief when he noticed there was no blood on Logan's claws; it was not he responsible for the damage downstairs, but who?
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Xavier. "And who's blood-JEAN." Charles' eyes went wide as he realized he could not sense Jean.
Hank was getting worried. "Professor?"
The professor had sensed this altercation had begun over Jean. He'd felt the emotions brewing since the previous morning. He'd meant to talk with Scott about it, but felt the need to let his children solve their own problems. Now Jean was gone, and Charles was very afraid.
Scott placed his feet on the floor, holding his head. "What about Jean?" he asked wearily. "And what's all this on the floor?"
"Blood, Scott," replied Hank.
"JEAN'S blood," corrected Logan as he shoved Henry out of his path. Leaning in close to Scott he accused "It's all over downstairs. Looks like you trailed it up here yerself. Now, what the hell is goin' on here?"
"Logan," began Xavier ", how do you know it's Jean's blood?"
Logan glanced over his left shoulder, very annoyed at the question. With a gesture, he taps his nose.
With a heavy heart, the professor lowered his head at this. He hadn't wanted to hear that Logan's renowned sense of smell had verified his accusation. He didn't want to believe that all this blood was, in fact, his star pupil's. Then, his head rose with new-found determination. "Hank," he started ", take a sample of the blood from here and downstairs. Verify Logan's hypothesis."
"At once, sir," replied Hank. There was no pun. No long-winded quote. No humor. One of his oldest, dearest friends is missing. Possibly worse. Henry McCoy merely sat the professor at the foot of the bed, and went to work.
Charles Xavier placed a hand on his first student's shoulder. "Scott, what happened?"
"It was Creed," interrupted Logan.
"CREED?!" the other men exclaimed in unison.
"His stench is all over the boathouse," continued Logan. "Even here, in the.bedroom." Logan's body tensed at this statement. Scott Summers went rigid. Charles Xavier remained cool.
The professor, turning his attention back to Scott, questioned the young leader. "Scott, what happened yesterday?"
"I don't know," Scott languished.
"Don't think about Jean, son," Xavier replied softly. He knew Scott was obviously upset right now. But Xavier was a professor, after all. He knew that Scott and Jean's psychic rapport must have been disconnected sometime yesterday, before she was.abducted. And he could sense the boy's disorientation, which was not uncommon considering the circumstances. But Professor Xavier had conditioned Scott to be a detached leader; Scott had faced worse fates than this and remained in control. Even in the face of such a dire situation, Scott was acting out of character. He dared not enter the younger man's mind for fear it would unbalance him. "What do you remember from yesterday?"
Scott slowly began the tale: his altercation with the police, his near- collision on the highway, the tuition-sized ticket he received, the over- heating car, and his long trek home in the rain. (Oddly, he left out a few details: his anger, memories of Creed and, of course, his snide remarks about Logan's giri.)
During Scott's explanation of the day prior, the professor called out to his favorite pupil from the original class: ("Hank?")
Hank McCoy was only downstairs, trying to find a damp sample of blood in the kitchen. But he was used to the professor communicating telepathically, regardless of distance.
("Yes, Professor?")
("I'd like you to take a blood sample from Scott, as well. Be subtle.")
("Professor?")
("I'll explain later, Hank. Trust me.")
Back upstairs, Scott still sat on the side of the bed while a consoling Xavier sat next to him. Logan stood at the window, arms folded across his chest, flaring with intensity.
"Alright, this is bullshit," growled Logan. "Jean's gone, Creed's responsible; I'll be back."
"Logan, I have neither the time, nor the patience to deal with your desire for vengeance. We don't know if Sabretooth even has Jean. I give you a lot of leeway here, Logan, due in large part to your convoluted association with Victor Creed. Considering what's at stake, I will do so no longer. You will do this my way or you will not be involved. And if that doesn't sit well with you, then I will include you.without your consent!"
Xavier's words hit Logan like a freight train. Never before had Xavier the Stoic EVER threatened his cognitive faculties. "Nice bluff, Chuck," chuckled the shorter man. "But y'know ya need me in on this. It's Creed."
"I haven't time for grandstanding," replied Xavier. His eyes narrowed, coldly. "And I DON'T bluff."
Logan's fists clenched. For a moment (which seemed to last an eternity), Scott thought for certain the Canadian roughneck would unsheathe his claws and attack the crippled patriarch of the X-Men.
Charles knew better. "Creed has taken another woman that you love. You want to do something about that. While I appreciate that sentiment, I cannot let you intercede this investigation; I have no wish to violate your mind, but will do so to safeguard a woman that I love."
Logan pondered the professor's words. He knew Charles only wanted to find Jean, as soon as humanly possible. "Alright Chuck, I'll do it your way.for now."
"Thank you, Logan. ("X-Men! Report to the War Room, immediately!")
Logan then lifted the professor into his arms and started down the stairs.
"Logan?" began Scott.
Logan stopped halfway down the stairs and turned to look at Summers. He felt bad for having the audacity to accuse Scott of having anything to do with Jean's abduction.
Scott, still sitting in bed, shook his head. "Nevermind," he muttered.
Logan turned to head back down the stairs when something caught his attention.
"What is it, Logan?" asked Charles.
"I dunno," replied Logan, curiously. "Something.familiar. I wanna say.evil. Just can't place it."
Cyclops lifted himself out of bed as the other men left. His head was still spinning, and his hearing was fading in and out. He stumbled into the bathroom to wash up, before heading to the War Room. Glancing in the mirror, he turned to faucet on and splashed some cold water in his face. Returning his gaze to the mirror, Scott is horrified to see the very skin peeling off his face and down the drain! "What the hell is happening to me?" exclaimed Scott as he curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. Then he saw, in the reflection of the shower stall, one who could possibly answer all of Scott's questions and more.
Logan and Xavier were halfway back to the mansion when Logan stopped dead in his tracks. "That's what it was!" he growled, and turned back towards the boathouse.
"Logan!" Xavier cried after the hairy man. "What is-"
"Can't you read him, Chuck?" Logan called back. "He's in there with Hank and Cyke!"
Charles Xavier closed his eyes and concentrated. Suddenly, his eyes went wide as dinner plates. ("Henry! Scott! Get out of the boathouse, now! He's in there with you!!")
The Beast was puzzled by this statement. Were Sabretooth here, Logan would have found him, immediately. ("Who, Professor?")
("SINISTER!")