Hope Returns
Chapter Eight
By: Lily Handle
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Author's Note: I'm trying to decide if my broken ankle is a hindrance or a help. I really want to get out more, but shuffling around on crutches is annoying in the summer. Too much heat and too much humidity. But because I won't go out I get more time to write. There's the ever present fear of writer's block though, which I feel is constantly hovering around my shoulder. Anyway, please read and review.
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Jean Gray was patient, and dedicated. When she was given a task, she'd do it to the best of her ability no matter how long it might take. Self imposed task took on extra importance, she disliked failing others, but hated failing herself. She wouldn't fail in this task though, it wasn't just herself she'd be letting down, it was the whole Institute. She was trying to find Dr. Chandler. She kept pushing her thoughts farther and father away from the hotel in the middle of downtown Washington, trying to touch on Dr. Chandler's thoughts. It was giving her a headache, shifting through all the thoughts she came across, but she kept pushing. With Cerebro she could easily find the doctor's thought patterns, but she couldn't get to Cerebro while still in Washington waiting to hear about the investigation. Jean didn't know how far she was reaching, but she felt something familiar in the mass of thoughts. Carefully she untangled them, until she had a hold of the seemingly familiar thought.
"Charles," The thought flowed through Jean's head, and she wrapped her mind around it, "Come on… Charles, you have to…hear me."
"Dr. Chandler?" Jean asked tentatively, slipping into the thought.
"Jean?" There was a long pause and Jean thought maybe she'd lost the thought, "Oh thank god," It was Dr. Chandler, but her thoughts were slurred and slow. Jean tried to help her focus, but she felt something was clouding the doctor's mind, making shifting through her thoughts like swimming against a strong current.
"Where are you, Dr. Chandler?"
"I don't know…dark…cold…really cold…Trask…" Dr. Chandler tried, but Jean knew her telepathic capabilities were weak at best, with whatever was clouding her mind she could barely project her thoughts. Jean frantically tried to keep the connection strong, but it kept fading in and out like a radio that needed tuning.
"Come on, Dr. Chandler, hold on, you've go to stay awake!" Jean yelled to her, trying to keep the signal between them strong.
"Trask…took me…north, I think…" And it was gone. Jean tried to reconnect, but there was nothing, Dr. Chandler was too far, or maybe someone was blocking her, but she was alive. Jean scrambled up from the bed where she sat and ran for the little sitting room where everyone was waiting around.
"I heard her!" She yelled as she burst into the room, "I heard Dr. Chandler."
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Jean repeated her story for Fury, a man who was almost as intimidating as Logan. She had to tell her story twice more, once for a digital recorder, and once more for a video camera. S.H.I.E.L.D. head quarter's was an intimidating place, it was almost completely done in concrete bricks painted a depressing gray, and a rusted metal was chosen as an accent color. It didn't look like a place where a high security, highly skilled government agency would be, but Jean guess that was the point.
"So, this Cerebro could find Dr. Chandler?" Fury asked her, after she'd finished with the video recording.
"It could," Jean said tentatively, looking towards Logan to see what was okay to say, and how much.
"Cerebro can pick out the Doc's thought patterns, or mutation," Logan explained, "Unfortunately, Charles changed the pass code for it, and only he knows it. After Mystique was able to break in to the Institute, he beefed up the security."
"And with him still unconscious there's no way to get the code," Fury finished.
"That's not exactly true," Logan looked towards Jean, "You think you could find it?"
"I could try, it might be pretty easy since the Professor's unconscious," Jean said, hopeful.
"Wait, Logan, what are you planning?" Fury asked, eyes darting between Jean and Logan.
"Jean can get the pass code to Cerebro from Charles, we send her and the other X-men back to the Institute. If Jean finds the Doc, they can go get her."
"They're not part of this investigation," Fury frowned.
"Yeah, now they are. Come on Jean, let's go see the Professor." Logan looked down at Jean. She rose from the seat, watching Fury carefully. She didn't have to be a psychic to see he was angry with Logan. Frustration and angry rolled of him in visible waves. Jean followed Logan closely as they left the room, and through the hallways that seemed to go on forever. It's laid out like a maze, Jean thought, when one hallway ended in three other ones. She didn't know how Logan knew how to get out, but he opened a steel door into the bright sunlight. Outside the door a black non-descript car was waiting, two agents standing by the passenger side door.
"Colonel Fury sent a car for you, sir," One of the agents said, opening the door. Jean heard Logan humph, but he got into the car anyway and Jean followed. One of the agents got into the front seat, and the other got into the driver's side and they were off. Jean was worried a bit about Logan's plan, she didn't think the Professor would like her poking around in his mind. She did want to help Dr. Chandler though, she guessed there wasn't much of a choice. The Professor would understand, she thought, and afterwards he could change the code again. Satisfied with her logic, Jean sat in silence while they were driven to the hospital's back entrance. With the S.H.I.E.L.D agents flanking them, Jean and Logan climbed the five flights of stairs to the hallway where Professor's room was. Hank was there, as well as Ororo, both still sitting silently by his bedside.
"What brings you here, Jean?" Ororo asked,
"I'd like to talk with you, outside," Hank said stiffly to Logan, who nodded. They walked out, shoulders straight as their backs. Ororo frowned at them, Jean speculated after them, but neither said anything about it.
"I need to get the code for Cerebro," Jean explained, "I heard Dr. Chandler calling for help, I need to use Cerebro to see if I can find her again."
"Is she alright?" Ororo asked, gesturing to the chair Hank had left open.
"She sounded kind of slow, and her thoughts were really muddled, I guess," Jean frown and laid her hand on the Professor's forehead. "I'm sorry I have to do this, Professor," Jean said softly, then pushed herself into his mind.
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This was possibly the most embarrassing thing Hank had ever had to do, and the most embarrassing thing Logan had ever had to suffer through. They were men, they didn't like to show emotions or apologize, so there was five minutes of terse silence before Hank was able to say something.
"Sorry," Hank muttered, "I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you."
"It's nothing," Logan shrugged, "Everyone's a little on edge."
Hank ran a hand over his head, "Yes, I should thank you Logan." They were good friends, Hank remembered, he shouldn't let his personal feelings get in the way of that. "I know you don't like working with S.H.I.E.L.D."
"It's nothing," Logan said again, trying to ignore the tension gathering at the back of his neck, "I've got some good news, at least."
"Really?"
"Jean got a message, telepathically from the Doc. She didn't get much of a message, the Doc's been drugged, so she can't tell us much."
"But she's alive," Hank's number one fear, disappeared, releasing an enormous weight from his shoulder. Logan too felt that tight knot in his stomach lessen, but not vanish. He knew that the gauntlet had been thrown, one week or the Doc wouldn't come back.
"Yeah," Logan reassured, "If Jean's able to get the code, she'll have a better chance."
"You know Charles better than the rest of us," Hank said, turning towards the door, "Do you think she can get it from him?"
"If she's stubborn enough to get it, she will." Logan said, "We'll wait out here. Give her some space."
"Right." They waited a full thirty minutes before Jean stumbled out of the room, one hand pressed to her head.
Logan stepped forward and caught Jean as she stumbled. "What happened?"
"I got the code," Jean mumbled, "I can get in."
"You'll take a break first," Logan growled, "You need some rest before you start pushing yourself again with Cerebro."
Jean shook her head, "I should get to the Institute, I should start looking for Dr. Chandler."
"I agree with Logan, Jean," Hank said gently, "You can rest in Ororo's bed, then go."
"Really, I don't need," Jean started, but Hank put a hand on her shoulder and steered her back into the room.
"If you work yourself into exhaustion and make yourself sick you won't be helping Hope. Just a few minutes of rest won't hurt."
"Okay," Jean mumbled, and Hank carefully helped her into the bed, "Just a few minutes." Jean closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep.
"What happened?" Logan asked Ororo without preamble.
"She looked fine walking out of here, I think Charles's mind may have accidentally over powered hers," She said, frowning down at Charles before looking up at him, "She should wake up pretty quickly once she gets some rest."
"I should get back to S.H.I.E.L.D.," Logan sighed, "I should have let her rest before bringing her here."
"That wouldn't have stopped her, she's determined. Hank or I will call you when she wakes up if you want," She said. Logan nodded, looked down at Charles and walked out.
Hank looked after Logan after he had walked out, "I should tell the others," he said, looking back at Ororo.
"I'll keep an eye on them," Ororo smiled, "They'll be fine, if there's any trouble there are doctors everywhere."
"You'll be alright for a while on your own?" Hank asked, concern written across his face.
"If I need anything I'll call a doctor." Hank nodded and then left. He should be getting more rest, Ororo thought, taking Charles's hand in hers. He's worried about Hope, worried about Logan, and worried about everyone else, he needed a break from that worry. Ororo sighed; Logan was also worrying too much. He was also working too hard; she could see it around his eyes. But there was something else too, Ororo thought, there was something more personal in his eyes. In fact, if she thought about it Hank and Logan had very similar looks in their eyes.
Ororo sighed as she smoothed her hand over Charles's brow, "Surprising how we fall apart without you isn't it? We're all pulling, but no one is pulling the same way. Once Hank stops hovering, we'll do better. We'll do fine, once we're all settled again. You just get some rest, Charles. We'll do fine."
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Hope was getting stronger, every time they injected her with what she believed was a powerful painkiller her body built up a resistance. She still couldn't see straight, everything was dark when she opened her eyes, but there was no cloth over her eyes or any type of blindfold. She was so cold too, curled into some sort of box with no heat, no blanket, just the clothes she wore when she was taken. Her knees were up against her chest, her head tucked almost touching her knees and her hands were behind her back. They had handcuffed her wrist and ankles, mostly left her alone in the box, as she had come to call it and only opened the lid to inject her. She understood they were starving her for a reason, to make her so weak she couldn't flight back, but it was water Hope wanted. She knew she could survive a very long time without food, the time limit was around a few weeks, but without water she'd only have a few days. She was waiting this time, straining her ears for any sound. This time when the lid was lifted she'd lash out with everything she had. Good thing she wasn't claustrophobic, Hope thought, or maybe before she wasn't. Now though, she didn't think she'd be able to stand dark, closed in spaces. The fear was always there, fear of everything from suffocating, or dehydration, but there was also fear of being shot. Hope would close her eyes and see the image of Wilson Trask holding the gun on her. Her worst fear was he'd come back and shoot her, for no reason. There was probably reason, Hope thought; she just didn't know what it was. She wished violently to have Jean talking to her again, but she couldn't get a hold of her. Or Charles, no one could hear her calling out for help. When Jean was talking to her, Hope felt some sense of knowing where she was. The blank blackness was disorienting, Hope couldn't tell which way was up or down some times. She didn't know if it was day or night. How long had she been kept in the box? She didn't know, it felt like forever. She also wished for Logan, his strength and competence, then she'd have some other idea of what to do. Hope stiffened in the box when she heard a noise, the lock on the outside of the box was being moved around. Opened, Hope wondered as she relaxed and pretended to be pass out. She heard the creak of the hinges on the boxes, felt the inwards sweep of warmer air and let everything fly. Her skin burned as she pushed her power out of the box towards whoever had opened it and didn't stop until she heard the top of the box slam closed. Ignoring the protest of her cramped muscles she pushed the top open and started to climb out. With her ankles chained even bringing her feet around was hard, but soon she was sitting up, her back pressed against the top of the box, and lying at her feet was a Canadian police officer. Hope was in the back of a van, the box was recessed into the floor and there were thick rolls of carpet pushed around. Hope stared at the officer, she'd just attacked someone trying to save her, but where were her kidnappers. Suddenly afraid she glanced around for someone other than the officer, and almost screamed when she saw Wilson Trask standing to the side of the van.
"Well done, Dr. Chandler," He said, stepping around to the back of the van, a gun pointed towards her. "You just saved me a lot of trouble." He turned the gun away from her and shot the officer. Hope jumped with every bang from the barrel and she felt the warmth of tears as she turned her head away. "Get back in," Trask ordered when there was silence again.
"No," Hope whispered past the urge to sob, "No."
"Now, Dr. Chandler, I've been pretty good to you up to now. I think you can get back in the box." Hope swung back to face him, astonished that he'd say such a thing.
"You've done nothing that could be count as good," Hope spat, then saw the officer lying on the ground, he was still breathing. She had to save him, she was a doctor, by Trask wouldn't let her. Hope looked towards him, and the gun turned on her. "If you let me save his life, I'll get back in."
"Why should I let you save him? He'll just lead them straight to us and I don't want that," Trask asked.
"Because I'll stop calling for help," Hope stuck her chin higher, "If you get me back in this box, I'll just go back to calling for help. I've already managed to reach someone, they don't know much now, but I can tell them a lot more."
"He's seen you, the van, and me," Trask shook his head, "He can't talk."
"I'm in Canada," Hope looked past Trask, "Manitoba, says so on the car. I'm in the back of a white carpet van, I'll tell all of that to the person I reached already. There's also a machine used to locate mutants, if I get in contact again, they'll use it and find me in a second. You want more time to get away, change cars and such, you'll have it," Hope toss her head back, "If you let me save his life, I'll keep quiet."
"And what's to keep you from calling for help even if I let you help him?"
"You have my word," Hope said through gritted teeth, "You know I wouldn't break that."
Trask grinned evilly, "Yeah, that's a great thing about you noble types, anything to preserve your honor." Trask jerked his head towards the fallen officer, "Go help him." Carefully, keeping on eye on Trask, Hope climbed out of the van and kneeled next to the officer.
He opened his eyes and looked painfully up at her, "I love your work, Dr. Chandler."
"I'm going to help you, okay?" She whispered, leaning close to him, blocking Trask view of the conversation, "You'll probably be knocked unconscious again, I'm sorry, when you wake up call S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Shield?"
"Yes, or call the FBI, they'll know how to help you."
"Hurry up, Dr. Chandler, we're getting behind schedule," Trask shouted from behind her.
"All right, okay," Hope concentrated on her power, telling it to heal and then gently as she could laid her forehead against the officers.
"What are you doing?" Trask asked gruffly, pulling Hope back by her wrist.
"I have to touch him to heal him," Hope snapped, "Let go." He released her, and Hope touched her forehead back to the officers. "You'll feel better soon, I promise."
The officer tilted his chin up and kissed her softly, "All ready do." And then he went limp underneath Hope. She tried to heal him quickly, she could even feel him slipping away, and mentally begged him to live. You're my only hope, she mentally pleaded with him, you can't die on me, please, you have to help me. When she could feel his heart beating on its own, and the bullet holes had stopped bleeding Hope moved more steadily through healing him. It took up more time, time Hope wanted to waste, but Trask caught on and hauled her away from the officer.
"Time to go, Dr. Chandler."
"You'll have to help me get into the box," Hope said, ignoring the tears she felt rolling back down her cheeks, "Unless you want to waste more time." Trask grabbed her roughly around the middle with one arm, then threw her into the box, the lid slammed closed and Hope heard the lock violently slam. She wanted to scream of Jean, but didn't, just cried for herself.
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Logan was feeling the strain, a strain he hadn't felt in years, and all of it was in his eyes, neck and shoulders. He was hunched over the television watching the news tapes again, and again, and again. He also watched the tape of Wilson Trask, begging for a clue. He hadn't found anything new yet. There was a cold burger and fires at his elbow, the files on Trask and the men under arrest were under it. When he was convinced he was finished with the tapes, he'd read the files and when he was convinced he was finished with those, he'd go see the men they had under arrest. He'd either talk them into getting to talk or he'd use his fist to get them to talk. He was tried of playing by Fury's rules, annoyed with government policy and politics in general. He wanted out, but he'd stay in, the Doc was at stake here. A knock at the door had Logan growling a fierce, "Go away." But the door at his back opened anyway.
"Logan, we have a lead," Fury said from behind him.
Logan turned around in his chair, "Jean's got something?" The kid had woken up just before Logan had locked himself into this room, and been shipped off with the other students to the Institute to start searching for the Doc.
"No, we have a sighting." Logan was out of his chair in a second, following Fury down the hallway.
"What happened?"
"We don't have the full story yet," Fury said, "A Canadian patrol man pulled over a van for suspicious driving, he felt something was wrong," Fury shook his head, "It's better if you hear it from him, he's in here." Fury opened the door to a meeting room, and stepped aside as Logan walked in. Pacing near the head of the table was a tall wiry man in a Canadian patrol men's uniform. The back of which was stained with blood.
"Mr. Hardy," Fury said, catching the man's attention, "This is Agent Logan, he's in charge of Dr. Chandler's kidnapping."
"I'm Neal Hardy," the man said, stepping towards Logan, holding a hand out, "I don't know where to start."
"Just tell Agent Logan here what happened," Fury said while Logan shook hands with Hardy.
"Right," Hardy stepped back and when to pacing, "I was driving along a back route, checking for speeding drivers and drunks, when I saw this van." Hardy paused, "I didn't like the look of the van, so I pulled it over. The driver, he was nervous and just seemed to be trying to get rid of me."
"What did he look like?" Logan asked, watching Hardy intently.
"I didn't know it then, he was using a fake driver's license, it was Wilson Trask. I saw a picture after coming here to the states," Hardy explained.
"You're sure it was Wilson Trask?" Logan asked quickly.
"Yeah, damn sure," Hardy said, "Anyway, I was talking to the driver, Wilson Trask, when I felt it."
"Felt what?"
"Body heat coming from the back of the van," Hardy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I'm a mutant, I'm hypersensitive to body heat or something like that and in the cold it was pretty easy to tell that someone was back there. I asked the driver if I could take a look in the back, he said sure, so I went to take a look. There were a few rolls of carpet, and when I pushed those aside, there was a simple slide lock on the floor. I was thinking drugs, or illegal weapons so I opened it. Dr. Chandler was inside, but she didn't get a look at me and attacked me."
"Is she why your back's covered in blood?" Logan asked.
"No, I passed out or she knocked me out some how, Wilson Trask shot me. When I woke up Dr. Chandler was leaning over me. She told me to call S.H.I.E.L.D or the FBI and tell them what happened. I was thinking I'm going to die, but she helped me. She healed me, I think, but I passed out again and when I woke up, the van was gone."
"What do you remember about the van?"
"White van, carpet van, Tack and Stack or Tack and Save, something like that. I remember the license plate, though, wrote it down when I pulled him over," Hardy held out a little battered notebook, "There's a camera in the dash of my patrol car."
"Damn good," Fury said, "Damn good work."
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Author's Note: I couldn't tease you much longer about Hope, which I bet you all are very happy for. I tried not to leave a cliff hanger here, to appease a fan, but don't think I quite managed it. Anyway, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, please read and review.