Disclaimer: Several new characters are mine, including the plot. X-Men belongs to Marvel and Fox.
Angelina: Hey. I made his memories appear in his dreams cos it seems right, like when you enter the subconsciousness, etc. (I do psychology at school now – that may explain why I now think too deep x.x) Also, I assumed that before Stryker and all the fighting, that his physique would be undefined, and he would be happier mentally, again it seemed right! P Thanks!
Omala: What came out fast? The chapter? I'm confused ):
Blix: I know, it's quite horrible that his good memories come at the worst time. He's trying to push them away, but they keep coming and upsetting him ): what makes it worse is that they are such happy memories, no trauma..
Chapter 41Charles Xavier sat quietly in his office, chair positioned by the large glass windows so he could view the beautiful autumn scenery. No matter how his eyes watched the outdoors, they had glazed as his mind was trouble by thoughts, and insides were still numb in disbelief. Only did his eyes lift slowly when he felt a hand rest at his shoulder. The man turned his head, his eyes meeting a caring blue gaze upon him.
"Ororo," said Charles softly, his hand moving the lever to twist his chair towards her, "Are you alright my dear?"
The white haired woman crouched beside to him to his height, the pain evident in her face, "Not really," she admitted truthfully, "I don't think any of us are.."
"No.. no.." agreed Charles, "It'll take time.."
Storm lowered her head gently before she rose from her crouch, sitting on the window seat in front of Charles, "It's just that.. how many more of us will be sacrificing ourselves? First it was Jean.. then Kurt.." Storm lowered her head, covering her face with a shaky sigh, "And now Logan.. of all people."
"Perhaps we should stop fighting," said Charles quietly, keeping his eyes on the distance rather than Storm's grieving face, "Live for the time we have left rather than kill ourselves."
Storm look slowly to him with a pained face, "But after all these years.. you can't give up something you've been fighting for all your life."
With a soft sigh Charles closed his eyes, "I cannot risk you all. You are like my children.. and I'm sending you out there to fight for something we may never achieve."
Storm at first had doubted their reign of battling when Logan died.. but when Charles agreed, she felt compelled to discourage him, "No Charles.. you have always been right, but not now. We must continue. It is selfish not to. Even when we die.. the future generations of mutants will be affected by what we could've changed."
"But we are losing so many loved ones through the process.."
"And what is going to happen if we don't fight for peace? The government will be here, trying to eradicate us forever."
Charles lowered his head gently, "I understand Storm, but I must take this into deep concern.. please. Let me be."
"But Professor.." said Storm softly.
"Please, Ororo.." Charles replied quietly, turning his eyes from her. Storm abided to his wishes, rising slowly with a worried sigh and exited his office in a quiet, dejected manner.
The wheels of Logan's vehicle once more greeted the roads as he drove along the icy roads towards New York. Inside his heart was still aching as he remember the sight of Roxanne dead.. the life drawn from her skin, the pale and frightened eyes staring up at the skies. And the images of her in the younger years, her fresh face, glowing eyes. The affection she had in them.. for him.. not any other man, but him. And now he had lost all that, even though he was given a second chance.
Logan turned his head slowly as he came upon a small tavern at the roadside. It looked quaint enough.. and Logan knew he needed a drink – he hurt so much.. inside he felt so destroyed. He knew a drink could never cure his grief forever.. but just for tonight.. it would do. He turned the steering wheel slowly as he headed into the car park that was quite empty of other vehicles. When the vehicle rolled into a vacant space he shut off the engine with a sigh. At least for tonight he could sleep in a bed rather than in the jeep.. and he desperately needed to sleep, or he would probably run headlong into a car on the way back to Westchester.
His walk to the entrance of the bar was slowly done, his boots crunching in the snow. He stopped to watch a large truck drive in and pass in front of him. Once the truck passed, Logan looked ahead again to see a sign glimmering from the roof of the building, 'Laughlin City 24 hour bar.' Logan's eyes widened, "No frickin' way.." he breathed as he hurried on over to the door. He pushed through the glass doorway, stepping inside to the warm bar. As he inhaled he was instantly reminded of that fateful day when he met young Marie. He found a rare smile lift the corner of his lips at the memory.
Shaking the snow from his attire he walked slowly through the room. It was rather quiet, for it was only afternoon. Soft music played in the background whilst a bartender sat behind the bar reading a copy of the day's newspaper. Logan canted his head curiously as he watched a young waitress hurry over to a table to serve some food to a pair of truck drivers in their seats.
In the daytime the bar adopted a much more friendly atmosphere. The fighting cage was hidden away by a sheet of curtains. The lights were on relatively high, but scattered so the overall appearance was a comfortable glow rather than a murky darkness. Logan exhaled a sigh, moving over to sit at the bar. It had been well over a year since he had last been here. Surely they wouldn't recognise him now.
The man behind the bar shifted the paper from his face and smiled welcomingly to the new customer, "Good afternoon, what can I get you?"
Logan studied the man's face a moment before finally speaking, "Something strong," was all he said.
The bartender rose a wary brow, "Y'sure? It's only 4pm."
Logan slapped a crumpled note upon the bar top with an impatient slam of his fist, "Sure," he said with a trace of a growl.
The bartender sighed and nodded his head, "Very well.."
A few hours later and the bar had quickly begun to fill up. Logan was happily on his next bottle of whiskey, downing the glasses before eagerly refilling. The bartender surveyed Logan with worried eyes.. contemplating over the point whether he should stop serving the guy – but he didn't even look drunk, not to say how much he had been drinking.
Logan paused from the drinking, placing his glass back down.. maybe he should calm down. He licked his lips thoughtfully, tasting the whiskey that had wet them. But he was pulled out of his deliberation when the two young women that had been stood at one end of the bar for most of the night moved over to him.
"Hey sugar, aren't you knocking those back a bit too heartily?" asked one with a small chuckle. Her friend beside her just grinned cheerily at Logan, "Drownin' your sorrows, eh?"
With a small cough Logan turned his head slowly to survey the pair. He made an impatient sigh before picking up his glass again, eyes watching the golden liquid within, "My fiancé is in a body bag," he muttered with a slight slur tracing his words. Wait.. fiancé? Subconciousness again..
"Well, that's one excuse," said the woman with a hearty laugh. But her friend quickly nudged her.
"I think he's been serious.. let's move on, Carla."
Logan turned his eyes slowly as he watched the woman walk away to take a seat at a far table. He exhaled noisily, looking down at his drink. Logan outstretched his hand back to the whiskey bottle, but the bartender grabbed it first, "I'm sorry, sir. But I can't let you drink anymore," he said with a sympathetic expression whilst he moved the bottle out of Logan's reach, "I'm sorry," he repeated.
Logan stared at the man for a moment before he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, "Yeah.. you're right.. yeah."
"Would you like a room for the night?" asked the bartender quietly, "Surely you are in no state to drive."
Logan rose his eyes slowly, "Yeah.. that'd be good. Is now alright?"
"Of course," the bartender replied, "Just follow me.. and don't worry about the cost. I'll sort that out for you,"
"Cheers," murmured Logan as he lifted off the barstool to slowly follow the bartender. He walked with a small limp still, but he rarely thought on it.
But then, a man stepped in front of the bartender with an angry look on his face. He wore a Stetson hat, black, matching his leather attire, "What's that I 'eard? Givin' rooms away for free?"
"Mr. Jameson, I'll sort it out,"
"No you will not. I'm the boss 'ere, y'ain't givin' away rooms for nothin'!"
"Mr. Jameson, the man has just lost his fiancé, he's been sat in the bar all night.. I think for one night there is no harm in it, sir.."
The boss swivelled his small eyes to Logan with a snort, "Aye, fine.. but I'm warnin' ye.. anymore o' this and it's your job that'll be goin' free."
The bartender turned away with a grimace, leading Logan away, "Ignore him." Logan was led up a small staircase at the back of the bar room to a small corridor of doors. "I hope you feel better in the morning, sir."
"Thanks," muttered Logan, taking the key out of the palms outstretched hand before he disappeared inside. With a sigh exhaling he leant back on the door to close it, running a hand across his eyes tiredly. The door was locked in one simple movement. Logan slowly walked across the wooden floor of the room, going over to the closed window. He leant down upon the windowsill, peering out into the view. The great Mount Rundle sat in centrally in the distance.. smoke still billowing from it, small dots of helicopters could be seen travelling back and forth from the mountain. Logan sighed again, closing his eyes as he turned from the window and sat down on the bed.
The grief was still eating away at him, tearing at his heart and sickening his soul. Memories of Roxanne were available to be seen now.. some of them had been unlocked. Logan wished they would stay hidden.. each vision tore at him and make he want what he could no longer have..
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