Trial By Fire - Part Two
Disclaimer: I do not own ANY Marvel characters, no copyright infringement intended.
Rating:PG - language
She twisted a strand of still damp red gold hair around a slender finger, regarding him with eyes that glittered like twin emeralds in the firelight. She'd been watching him for what seemed like hours, curled up on a settee before a massive stone hearth that blazed with a captive orange heat, the fire's multitude of tongues licking hungrily at the wood that was being fed to it by his steady hands.
He stood from his crouched position, staring into the fire glow as he did so, presenting her with his side profile, the chiseled planes of his stony face illuminated by the soft light. She studied him, even though she was sure that he felt her gaze on him, taking note of the strength he exuded, the sharpness of his features, how he hardly ever blinked.
They hadn't spoken since leaving the grounds of the mansion, traveling in a strange, yet comfortable silence until they'd reached their destination. Where that was, she had no idea, and surprisingly enough, she didn't feel the need to ask.
She didn't care.
Since taking his hand, allowing him to draw her from all that was familiar, she'd felt...different, lighter, like she was existing in a dream. It didn't worry or unnerve her, feeling so far removed from reality, like it should have done - like it would have done had she been anywhere else but here with him. No, instead, it gave her a sense of peacefulness that she hadn't had for a very long time. It was comforting...like the warmth was comforting, like their mutual need for wordlessness was comforting.
He turned to her then, blue eyes catching green.
She didn't look away, continuing to stare.
He noted the fearlessness with which she presented him with, noted it and nodded, a slight smile cracking through the icy cast of his face.
She marveled at how that miniscule quirk of his lips didn't detract from his stern countenance, but rather enhanced it, and marveled anew at what kind of man she'd thrown her lot in with. Far from being concerned, it merely intrigued her further.
He moved to the great armchair that sat opposite her, sinking into it gracefully, his gaze never leaving her pale face. She returned his stare steadily.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked suddenly, his voice sliding into the void of silence without seeming to disturb it.
His tone was warm, rich as honey.
She would never have credited the cultured timbre to belong to someone like him, but it did.
"Yes," she replied after a moment, not venturing to speak further until he did.
"Would you care to change your clothes?" he questioned, fine-boned hands gesturing towards her reclining figure.
She glanced down at herself, only a little surprised to see that she was still garbed in the thigh-length nightgown she'd been wearing when she left the mansion, bare feet peeking out from behind legs that had been tucked underneath her body. Pondering his query for a moment, she decided that it didn't matter. She was warm and dry, what she wore was of no concern to her.
She looked back up to him, realizing that he had divested himself of his usual crimson and violet body armor at some point - most likely while she'd been lost in thought after he'd directed her to the room they both currently occupied. Now he lounged in black dress pants and a long-sleeved black dress shirt, buttoned all the way to his throat, his silver white hair providing a sharp contrast to his choice of garments.
Seeing him thus attired shocked her, now that it registered in her brain, never having seen him without his uniform before.
She allowed herself another few seconds of mute appraisal, her eyes covertly scanning his black-clad form, before she replied to him.
"No," was all she murmured, meeting his amused stare and feeling herself flush beneath it without knowing why.
Fleetingly, as she felt the infusion of blood warm the skin of her neck and cheeks, the thought of another man who liked to dress in black t-shirts and dark denim skittered through her mind, distracting her for a second. With effort, she banished the image and focused her attention on the figure before her.
"Very well," he murmured, leaning back into his chair, his eyes fixing intently on her fire-shadowed face. "What would you have of me?"
"The truth," she replied simply, hugging herself tight.
He nodded at this, as if her response was expected.
"And once you have it, what then?" he queried suddenly, throwing her off balance. She had not anticipated the question, and her face reflected her surprise.
"I - I don't know. I'm not sure what I want to do...not sure what I should do..." she replied, her voice softly strangled at the last with unspent emotion.
He nodded again, this time soothingly, knowing as he had upon meeting her that something in her life was causing her much distress. Something had upset her enough to pull her from the bosom of one Charles Xavier and bring her to him. Something that he might be able to help her overcome, should she but ask it of him.
But all in due time, he told himself with a secret smile. All it would take to bind this girl closer to him, his cause, his family, was patience - and he possessed that in abundance, despite what others might assume.
"I will make no demands of you. Your decisions are, ultimately, your own, of course," he said smoothly, trying to make himself appear as non-threatening as he could.
She seemed to take comfort in his words, sinking further into the divan with a rustle of cloth, the restless look in her eyes dimming so that only the glow of the hearth's embers were reflected in their depths once again.
He allowed her one of his rare, full smiles to reassure her further, his appearance transformed by the slight gesture from stark severity to one of disarming charm, inviting warmth. The effect was not lost on her, either, surprising her first when she was able to see beyond his usual, frost-rimmed demeanor to view the actual man beneath it. Then, shocking her a second time when she realized just how handsome a man there was hidden beneath the harsh mask he wore. It unnerved her enough when she came to understand this that she had to shift in her seat to quell the rising rush of nervous heat that had quickly formed in her belly at the notion.
He seemed to take note of her discomfort and, though he would never admit it - not even to himself, the warmly appraising gleam in her eyes. Guessing where and what it stemmed from jarred him as equally as it had his guest.
"I am curious, however." He cleared his throat even as he cleared his mind of the alien thoughts that assailed him. "About the circumstances that led you here this evening."
As soon as the words passed his lips, he saw her straighten up, her expression going from interested speculation to cold defensiveness in the space of a heartbeat.
"I told you," she began, "I want to know the - "
"The truth, yes, yes. I am aware of your desire to know more about your mentor, and his role in the Sentinel project," he interrupted, his own eyes becoming speculative and boring into her face with renewed force. "But surely that alone would not be reason enough to abscond from the loving warmth of your family in the dead of night, trading their company for mine in so short a time." He was now gazing at her like she was a curiosity, like she held a secret buried deep beneath the surface of her skin.
She shivered unintentionally under the intense scrutiny, not comfortable with his comments, or where she suspected they were leading to.
"Whatever those reasons may be, they are mine to keep and none of your business," she murmured, voice barely heard above the crackling fire burning so close to them.
He leaned in close to her, hands resting below his chin, face grave.
"You may indeed keep those secrets close, my dear, but I can see them in your eyes - can see what you refuse to admit, perhaps even to yourself," he whispered back to her, watching as the colour drained from her petal-smooth cheeks.
She seemed torn between offering him a scathing reply or getting up and leaving.
He waited to see which option she would choose.
"What are you talking about?" she asked instead, the faintest hint of a tremor shaking her words.
He sat back, trying to hide the wave of satisfaction that tingled through him.
"I'm talking about the fear...the vulnerability...the taint of weakness." His voice hissed at the last, making her cringe and blink nervously.
She smoothed her hands over her lap, toying with the hem of her nightshirt, unable to meet his eyes.
What he'd said to her, what he'd intimated, left her breathless with disbelief.
How can he know? How can he see the truth when no one else has been able to? How is it possible?
He spoke again, disturbing her thoughts, urging her to once again look up to him.
"Now you wonder how someone like me can see such things simply by looking into another's eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul," he quoted, chuckling softly - though it sounded bitter to her ears. His gaze sought hers and locked onto it, his face reverting to the chilled marble it so often resembled. "I look into your eyes and see a paler, less haunted version of my own. I know of what you feel because I felt much the same - only more so - after I escaped Auschwitz in my youth."
She gasped, fingers flying up to cover her open mouth.
He didn't seem to notice her movement, his vision slightly glazed with remembrance.
"A death camp marks you just as the inked numbers on my arm does...only, unlike the tattoo, it mars your very soul. You become more than weak, more than scarred, more than afraid; you become devoid of the will to live, little more than an animated corpse." His eyes refocused and he shook his head, ridding his mind of whatever images had begun to come to life within. "So you see, it was not very difficult to discern your heart - not when I used to see a similar expression staring back at me every time I chanced to glance in a mirror so many years ago."
She was more than shaken with his recounting of the past, shaken and strangely humbled at the same time. Distractedly, she ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to loosen a tangle she discovered in a bid for a moment to think.
Well, that certainly explains his animosity towards regular humans, she thought to herself with sudden understanding. After living through the hell that he has, how could he not view their intolerance of mutants with the same fear of genocide that intolerance caused - still causes - everyday in the world?
As she considered his words, something inside of her broke, softening her perspective towards him like nothing else could have. A bizarre urge to offer him comfort was quashed before it was able to grow, leaving her embarrassed and with nothing to focus on except feelings of shame and unsettling discomfort.
The most terrifying pain - profound loss and grief...he endured it, endured and seemingly overcame it. I went through a certainly horrifying experience of my own, though nothing even close to his, and what do I do? I wallow in self-pity and just expect my situation to improve, doing nothing...
She swallowed and steeled herself to speak, not sure of what she should say, but needing to know nonetheless.
"How did you manage to...heal...from what you went through?" she asked, voice shaking.
"Many mutants call their talents a curse and revile them, hating what they've become. For me, the opposite occurred. It was my power that saved me from the Nazi firing squad that killed my family, my power that freed me from the death camp just before the Allies arrived to liberate the incarcerated Jews. It was my power, even after many more...disappointments were suffered in my life, that gave me the strength to go on living." He spoke with such conviction, such passion, that she found herself unable to look away from his shining eyes - no longer were they a January blue, but a blazing sapphire, holding her in thrall with their intensity.
"You mentioned...a weakness in me," she said softly, shaking her head so that her burnished tresses gently waved about her porcelain face. "My powers are responsible for that. In my - my time of need, they couldn't...they weren't enough."
He leaned in close once again, breaking the distance between them by placing his larger, fine-boned hand atop hers.
The heat that traveled from him to her was welcome, banishing the numb chill that had decided to settle deep within her knuckles. She met his eyes; they were only inches away from hers now.
"You are still so young. Sometimes I forget about the youth of those around me," he murmured, his gaze sliding across her face slowly, the fingers of his free hand reaching up to touch her cheek - then hesitating - pulling back.
A shiver threatened her - as if he'd actually made contact, as if he'd drawn that pale, manicured appendage lightly across her skin instead of just hinting at wanting to do that. In the back of her mind, she wondered what she would have done had he allowed himself that brief caress. She also wondered where such strange thoughts were coming from, and why.
"I can help you overcome such feelings," he finally breathed, drawing her from her musings. The hand that lay over hers twitched as he spoke.
Her head tilted as she regarded him solemnly, lashes sweeping up and down like butterfly wings with each slow blink. "How?" she asked, the word a plaintive whisper falling into the close quiet surrounding them.
He smiled - a sly, secretive smile meant just for the two of them, and absently stroked the flesh of her fingers until he'd driven the chill from them completely.
"On Asteroid M, I created a machine - a wondrously magnificent device, one that would enhance any mutant ability with the flick of a switch. Unfortunately, it was not perfected when you first encountered it, though I doubt you took note, being so disapproving of my methods at that time," he recounted, his lips slipping into a wry half grin.
She nodded, remembering how Scott and Alex had been transformed by the machine, how they'd emerged from its steamy inner chamber neither looking like they had upon entering, nor behaving like the people she knew they really were. She recalled the disdain with which she'd greeted the strange new technology, the self-righteousness of her words as she'd lectured Scott before leaving him to make his own decision as to whether or not he could live as an enhanced mutant.
Remembering made her realize just how naïve she'd been a little over a year ago.
"That was then," she heard herself saying, no longer able to meet his eyes, his nearness causing a new flush to start climbing her neck.
Before I had reason to need such things... she added silently, wondering if he had something akin to that device in mind for her.
"I have rebuilt the enhancement chamber," he whispered in reply to her unspoken query. "Only this time, it is perfect."
Startled yet again, her wide eyes darted up, meeting his and mutely asking for clarity.
"Should you but wish it, I can help erase the shadows darkening these lovely eyes. I can recreate your strength, rebuild your faith in yourself, and, most importantly," he paused dramatically, leaning back on his heels, "I can give you power - power enough so that nothing will ever cause you pain again."
He watched as his words hit home, feeling the fingers that lay beneath his begin to tremble with suppressed emotion. He saw her chest expand and contract as the pace of her breathing increased - noted the tongue that slipped deftly between her lips as it moistened them - unconscious actions all, as she considered the gift that he offered her. Before she'd even replied to him, he knew that he had her, and that knowledge was as sweet on his tongue as any confection could have been, filling him with the same sensation that many of his victories of the past had done.
She finally raised her downcast eyes from their contemplation of the stone floor beneath her feet, her features gone from uncertainty to determination, from confused to hardened surety. Her hand, once lying so passively beneath his, suddenly slipped from his fingers only to slide deftly back across them, clutching at his hand tightly.
"If I accepted what you're saying - if I chose to do what you're suggesting, what would be expected of me? What are you asking as payment?" she questioned, amending her words when she saw him frown at the initial phrasing.
"I have never expected anything from anyone, despite what Xavier may say about me. I have chosen to dedicate my life to assisting those mutants who are in need of my help. I have never required payment or any form of recompense. I merely wish to offer guidance where it is needed most - to those that the world shuns, to those that Xavier deems unfit." He spoke earnestly at first, lapsing once again into bitterness with his later words.
She was surprised that he had not yet pulled away from her - surprised and grateful.
The contact between them was immensely gratifying for reasons she could not name, but it was welcome all the same.
"Unfit?" she asked when his comment registered. "You mean Lance and his friends."
"Yes," he replied, a lock of his wavy hair tumbling over his brow with his nod. "Xavier selected his children as one would pick fruit from a tree - keeping the prettiest, the sweetest, for himself. The undesirables, the ones too dirty and bruised to have worth, he cast aside. To him, those boys were nothing more than problems - common ruffians without a place to serve in his grand scheme - and in doing so, he set them adrift to fend for themselves in a world full of hatred and hopelessness."
He shook his head again, the silvery tendrils of hair playing across his face as he did so, making her hand itch with the need to brush them aside.
It looks so soft... strayed through her mind uninvited as she watched the specks of reflected light shimmer down the length of those few strands.
"Without someone to care for them, to teach them to use their powers, bring them together so that they understand they are not alone, they would still be struggling, faltering, failing. Without me, they would still be lost and afraid."
The faces of his four young charges swam up before her eyes, infusing her with a soft warmth so instantaneous, so emotional, that tears were on the verge of forming.
They had proven themselves to her beyond a shadow of a doubt only a few short days ago - proved that there was so much more to them than just their gruff, rebellious exteriors.
They had earned her trust.
They had earned her gratitude.
They had earned her friendship - if they wanted it.
"Though it may have been otherwise in the past," she said when he quieted, "I've come to regard those boys in a much different light of late. They try so hard to hide it, but I know they can be kind and decent...I know they can be heroes when it counts."
Her soft admission seemed to encourage his enthusiasm, creating an energy within him that was evident in his tone.
"If you believe what you are telling me in your heart, then let me do for you what I have done for those children. Let me help you regain whatever was taken from you - let me draw you from the isolation, the despair - the very pain that led you to me. If my young ones have earned your trust, then look now to the person who started them down that path and made that possible."
How could she not be left breathless in the face of such an impassioned speaker? She found herself nodding before she even found her voice, wanting nothing more than to believe in everything he promised, believe that he could make her whole again and take away the searing feelings of nothingness that dominated her every waking hour.
He regarded her solemnly for a moment before standing, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion. The rush of blood returning to her lower limbs tingled uncomfortably for a few seconds, and then they were walking, leaving the heated chamber for the coolness of the hallway without. He kept his hold on her hand, leading her through the many turns of the labyrinth-like structure that he currently called 'home', further down with every step, towards the subterranean levels where his creation lay dormant.
But not for long... his inner voice rejoiced, and he had to quell his gleeful excitement with much effort.
Finally, they passed through an arched doorway flanked to either side by a pair of sconce-bound candles, their flames splashing rings of light against the walls of stone that surrounded them. If either had warmth to spare, it wasn't enough to heat any length of the noticeably colder lower halls. Once inside the surprisingly more modern chamber, she was able to take note of what lay around her: a series of stainless steel worktables, walls papered with what looked to be schematics, tools and smaller mechanical devices strewn about haphazardly. It looked like any other workshop she'd ever seen, and that gave her some small measure of comfort. During the trip ever downwards, an anxiety had begun to overtake her as she wondered what exactly she had agreed to do.
Now that she had reached her destination, the worry fled in favour of a distant numbness.
He had released her hand to move about the room, and she watched him, rooted to the spot where he'd left her. He checked various gauges and buttons, smoothing his white hands across a large square of metal with a sigh that fairly floated to her on the still air.
Then he turned to her, his eyes dark with obvious pleasure, that heady, secretive smile he'd revealed to her earlier once again in place.
And this time, standing before him, she felt the full force of those shadowed good looks, felt her skin flush with goosebumps and her knees tremble slightly. She wanted to attribute such reactions to the cold, but when her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him stalking towards her as fluid and graceful as a feline, such improbabilities were driven from her mind - she was left with nothing.
Nothing but liquid green eyes staring up into a face that was by turns cruel and implacable, and - like now - dangerously handsome.
The warmth in her abdomen began building as he placed both of his hands on her slender shoulders; she willed it away half-heartedly, too distracted by the look in his eyes, too confused by how he might command such a response from her body.
Only one other had ever stirred such interest...and even he had been unable to kindle that inner spark when she'd last encountered him.
One other... she thought sadly, wondering what he would think of her now before banishing such unworthy details from her mind completely.
He's nothing to me anymore...fucking Judas...
The hands on her shoulders convulsed with suppressed excitement, bringing her back to herself.
"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked somewhat breathlessly, towering above her.
She glanced over and studied the metal doorway - presumably the entrance to the chamber - before turning back to him and tilting her head, a quizzical look on her face.
"Before I do this, tell me how the Professor is involved with the Sentinel project," she said, reminding him of their initial bargain.
"Ah, yes," he replied, one hand breaking contact with her to adjust the cuff of his other sleeve. "The history that Xavier and I share is a long and complicated one - as full of good times and light-hearted camaraderie as it was anger and pain. The telling of it in its entirety would take hours - if not days, so, if it will appease, I will present you with the condensed version."
At her nod, he continued.
"Some years after the war, your Professor and I met as young men in Israel. As those with similar goals, notions, and ideas are wont to do, we became fast friends and all but inseparable - as close as brothers. It was during that part of our relationship that he made his views on mutants - and, more importantly, how they should use their powers, quite clear to me. Suffice to say, even then I was not in full agreement with him. But he had not lived the life I had, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him continue believing in his idealistic vision of the world. He was...amusing, to say the least."
He paused, his eyes once again growing distant with memories.
"And then something happened...something that determined how we would spend the rest of our lives, forcing us to choose opposite ends of the spectrum for good or ill for the remainder of our days. A survivor of the Holocaust, a woman Charles fell very much in love with, was taken from us - kidnapped. He refused to use his abilities to save her, denying his talents even though it meant never seeing his beloved Gabrielle alive ever again."
While it intrigued her to finally hear of her mentor's past, she felt like an intruder, a thief treading through memories where she had no business being. Before she could wave him off to cease his oration, he continued, his voice thick with sudden anger.
"It infuriated me, this...this apathetic approach - this decision to not fully utilize the gifts that had been bestowed upon us. Was this not the very reason we had been granted such abilities - to help those who required it? To vanquish those men whose evil was so readily apparent that it had left their eyes hollow, devoid of any vestige of decency?"
He shook her slightly at that, calming only when he realized that he was doing so.
"So I took it upon myself to rescue the girl from her tormentors, using my powers to defeat them, much to Charles' disapproval. Instead of being grateful, he turned from me, branding me a traitor, no longer calling me friend. I had become everything he raged against - a mutant who had decided to use his talents selfishly, or so he said. When he returned to the States, I learned - through many different sources - that he had come to the realization that there would be other mutants like me, other mutants that would pose a 'threat' to his orderly way of life. It was then that he began his work on the preliminary designs for what we now know to be Sentinels."
Her eyes were wide when he looked to her again, shocked and full of something close to disbelief, as if she had not fully expected to hear such damning evidence against her mentor.
His smile changed, twisting wryly as he finished his story.
"Xavier worked for many years on his project, presenting it to various government officials already aware of the X-gene and what it promised, promoting it as a means for keeping rogue mutants like myself 'in line' should the need ever arise. They were to be his police force, used strictly to hunt down any mutant that didn't conform to his way of thinking. The only problem is those self-same government worms were not as pro-mutant as Charles believed they were. Even though the Sentinels were built under Charles' watchful eye, they were programmed to hunt any individual with an X-gene while his back was turned."
His face lowered towards hers, sincere blue eyes burning into horrified green.
"And it was his recent suspicion of this double-cross which prompted him to send you and your blood-thirsty companion into the lion's den yesterday - to confirm his fears, which, as you well know, were proven very real."
"My god," she whispered, his face so close to hers he could feel her warm breath against his cheek.
"All this chaos...simply because Charles Xavier needs to hold the reins of power. Because he can't abide anyone challenging his opinions when it comes to mutant affairs. He has become a dictator of sorts, and blinds you all to that fact by using your innocence and his fatherly charms to his best advantage."
Their eyes remained locked even as his hand reached up, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin lightly.
"And now you know the truth," he murmured, the texture of her satiny skin distracting him enough that released her seconds later. "I'm glad you chose to seek it out for yourself - to think for yourself - beyond the constrictions Xavier has placed on you. Such individuality serves you well."
She shivered and gave herself a mind-clearing shake, closing her eyes in attempt to absorb all the new and disturbing information she'd gleaned. As it digested, a peaceful feeling descended upon her, leaving her more resolved than she'd been before.
It all makes sense...it all fits... she told herself, a tension she hadn't been aware of sliding out of her muscles and leaving them jelly-like.
There was no more need for conversation, for entreaties - assurances - long lost truths. As the last shred of the Professor's projected image died a quiet, unheralded death, so did all of her remaining doubts, what few there were. The hole that had recently been ripped into her soul had increased in size at discovering just how deeply entrenched the Professor was in the plan that betrayed all mutants.
And she couldn't stand the aching emptiness a second longer.
She needed something - anything - to fill her up and chase away the cold, and if this machine could do that for her, she was ready to experience it.
Still barefoot, she walked across the icy floor towards the dull metal doorway that was hinged to the far wall. Using her powers for the first time that night, she visualized the door swinging open, and, unlocked, it did so, slowly and silently. She turned one last time to face the man who had brought her to this decision, met his eyes briefly, and then stepped into the sterile, enclosed space that lay beyond. She used her teke to seal the door behind her before taking hold of a pair of long, smooth railings she imagined were there specifically for that purpose. Her breathing sped up as the sound of locks clanging home echoed from the outside, shutting her in completely and leaving no room for recourse.
Events were set in motion.
There was no going back.
A bead of sweat trickled down her spine beneath her shirt despite the fact that she was still shivering from the cold. She bit her lip in an attempt to steady the rush of nervousness that swelled up from the pit of her stomach.
A whirring noise caught her attention, causing her to freeze, the spasmodic movement of her hands on the railings her only movement. The sound intensified to a deep, reverberating hum that swept up from her toes, climbing steadily until she could feel it vibrating against her scalp, almost like an electrical current running the length of her body. It should have felt unpleasant, but strangely, it wasn't.
The lights above her began changing colour, their stark whiteness bleeding into an orange glow, ultimately darkening to the blackest crimson, bathing her in near night.
The humming picked up in pitch, whining like a jet engine in the back of her ears...and then she felt the heat.
It started out as nothing more than a soothing warmth, like she'd been immersed in a hot bath, but then it, too, altered, until she felt as if every inch of skin was being scalded at the same time. Her eyes dried out, making it next to impossible to blink, her throat became parched so that she couldn't swallow. The urge to scream was building within her lungs, as were the fevered thoughts in her mind that something must have gone wrong and she was going to literally be cooked until crisp.
It was then that she heard the voice.
The colours within the chamber had begun to change as well, swirling around her in a riot of wild shades, the killing heat receding to a more even temperature. She was able to focus on the voice and strained to listen to it as it spoke directly to her from the inside of her head.
"Why have you summoned me?"
The disembodied voice sent a thrill of power through her, jolting her up on her tiptoes, making her nipples tighten with just that one taste of energy. Panting at the sparkling rush that invaded her entire body, she gazed upwards as if seeking the origin of the power, awe and wonderment painted across her face.
"What do you mean?" her mind asked back.
"It is not the time that was foretold, and yet I am called...you must release me at once..."
She heard the words echo against the boundaries of her skull, felt them resonate with a tangible quality...and something akin to desperation.
"I don't understand..."
The light above her head went incandescent, flaring suddenly, blinding her with white brilliance. The chamber's machinery began to scream with exertion and the heat returned tenfold, searing her flesh. She cried out involuntarily, shaken by what was going on all around her, and by this seemingly imaginary voice in her head.
"This cannot happen - it is not for us to come together here, now...you must release your hold on me..."
The words, once softly spoken within the recesses of her head, now fairly ripped into her brain, causing pain to explode throughout her entire body.
"I don't know how!" she called back, eyes screwed shut against the bombardment of frightening sensation, fighting past the fear to communicate her ignorance.
Before she could say anything further, the chamber groaned deafeningly, belching out streamers of hissing steam amidst the deluge of sound, clouding the chamber - and something suddenly slammed into her with the force of a freight train.
She doubled over in surprise as her lungs - her heart - the world, stopped.
One moment there was noise and light and feeling, the next, nothing.
Her eyes sprung open instantly, going round with shock as she tried to take a breath that wouldn't come.
The heat that had once been all encompassing had vanished, only to rekindle from a stabbing spark beneath her breast, flaring to life and through her veins so quickly that she wouldn't have had time to scream had she been able to. Spots danced in her vision and, dimly, she knew that she was seconds from passing out. Before she succumbed to the black velvet of unconsciousness that reared behind her eyes, she fell to the steel floor of the chamber, barely registering that she'd collapsed, too consumed by the myriad of other torments raging through her insides to notice.
I'm dying...oh God...Logan...it hurts...
The darkness took hold with a sense of finality, despite her attempts to remain aware, sweeping everything from her mind with it - except for a lingering, wailing cry, echoing from what seemed like a great distance beyond.
"...too soon Child of Man...too soon..."
He watched as the machine began to power down with an eagerness he'd rarely experienced before, the clicking of its locking mechanism signaling that the chamber was safe to enter. A thrill shivered down his spine.
When she steps out from within, she - and all her power - will be wholly committed to me, body and soul, his mind whispered victoriously.
A savage grin stretched his face at the thought; one of his enemy's most trusted, most loyal, most powerful followers now subverted to his cause. It was just too deliciously ironic.
Although, he mused as he checked over the computer readout of the machine's performance. It wasn't as difficult to accomplish as I had expected it to be. Some well-placed doubts, hints of treachery intertwined with the truth, offerings of comfort and shared grief...
He looked up to one of the numerous monitors mounted on the walls as it continued to register falling levels of energy from the chamber, his self-satisfied smile now reflected from within the depths of his eyes. An uncharacteristic laugh threatened to bubble up from his throat as he slowly went over the events that had lead him and his guest to where they were at that moment.
The good fortune that had placed them both at the Sentinel compound on the same night, the opportunity to speak with her sans chaperone - allowing him to plant the first seedlings of discord that had borne fruit so quickly.
And Pietro's timely update on her...situation...was perfection itself, he admitted with something much like fatherly pride. Without that knowledge of her vulnerability, of how broken a creature she'd become, I might have lost whatever advantage I've had with her.
He discarded the number-covered printouts, chuckling with smug delight, and turned to face the machine, awaiting his guest's presence.
He didn't have to wait long.
The sound of the door being pushed outwards - the pop of the vacuum sealing, the grind of metal on metal - reverberated all around him seconds later. Steam billowed out behind the giant slab of steel, trailing after it like the ghostly tail of a comet, dissipating moments later when it encountered the chill air without. He could see her shadowed form moving from within the newly created cavity, could see her approaching the machine's gaping maw. His hands clenched and unclenched with a breathless, impatient excitement as he maintained his position at one of the worktables, fighting the urge to run to her and see what kind of change his creation had wrought.
Jean Grey stepped into the bright light of the stainless steel room, naked but for the spill of crimson that cascaded down her back and over the flushed skin of her breasts. Had she looked over her shoulder, she would have been able to see the tiny specks of black ash that had once been her nightgown littering the floor of the now lifeless enhancement chamber. Instead, she came to stand stiffly a few feet from the man who had been waiting for her.
He was smiling at her, staring directly at her face as if trying to accord her some measure of modesty.
"How do you feel?" was his first question.
She tilted her head at hearing it, as if unsure of what he was asking, before smiling wide enough to show her teeth, a heat she was becoming accustomed to flaring through every molecule she possessed with the action. She looked to him then, her eyes boring into his, and saw his triumphant exuberance flee from her gaze, replaced by an ill-concealed hesitancy. She could literally hear his wonder - and his wariness - threading into her brain, his emotions urging the fiery warmth swirling beneath her skin to greater, more intense proportions. The sensation of flames licking their way out from within made her laugh, a silvery peal that sounded alien even to her own ears, though she paid the notion little heed.
"I feel...I feel...like a whole new person," she whispered, countering the wild laughter of seconds before.
She could feel the inner heat traveling up her neck until it drowned her completely, filling her head with such clarity that she knew that, if she wished it, she could look up and see every star in the sky - no matter how far below ground she was. Her head leaned backwards as she contemplated doing just that, before turning her attention back to the man that had gifted her with such ability. When their eyes met, she heard him release a stifled gasp.
Without any effort, his thoughts floated to her past the mental barricades she knew he'd erected - thoughts she could feel, and taste, and see...
...so much power...can feel it resonating...rolling off of her in waves...her eyes...her eyes...they're full of fire...
His words, the manner in which he regarded her, made her giggle.
The way he cringed from that unexpected, slightly maniacal sound, made her laugh all the more.
"You're certain you feel...well?" he asked when her mirth quieted, his tone once again that of a man in control, though laced liberally with undercurrents of concern.
Her flame-wreathed eyes, glowing softly like burning embers, blinked in amusement at him.
"Of course, Erik - better than you could ever imagine."