CAJUN CINNAMON
Book One of the Annwn Ryu Cycle

Chapter XVIX
"Tears for the Beast"

Smell of crysanthamums and cinnamon, sharp and sweet, light and soothing - slow movement, side-to-side, faint rocking....
The slight movement woke Logan from the drug that had rendered him unconcious, and he opened his eyes slowly, cautiously.
Shadows danced faintly in the pale light, casting odd shapes on the wooden floor and wall.
His sharp hearing picked up faint, choked, thrashing movement, garbled words, and laboured breathing.
Getting quickly to his feet from the futon-like affair where he had lain, the mutant found Cayanne, unconcious, breath coming and going in laboured gasps as she struggled through whatever nightmare she was trapped in.
Her lips were faintly blue, skin a pallor even for the normal fair tone.
Logan crouched down, fingertips finding the rapid, thready pulse, catching the faintly sweet tang of her breath.
Damn it. he thought, gently propping the girl against his knee and lightly pressing a hand against her neck.
The skin was clammy, almost cold, sure sign of a sudden, dangerous loss of blood sugar, sliding toward shock.
C'mon, darlin', don'tcha dare give up on me. the thought was almost savage as he shook the thin, faintly athletic shoulder.
The girl remained limp, unresponsive.
"Cayanne!" he called her name, voice harsh with concern.
His senstive nose picked up a familiar scent, and he lifted the Cajun into his arms, moving over to the small stand where a small pot of hot tea sat, two cups sitting companionably next to it.
Using one hand to pour a measured portion, he set it at her lips and gently but firmly opened her lips with the edge of a finger, poured a small amount into her mouth, and massaged her throat to make her swallow.
A few tense moments later, Cayanne opened her eyes and her breathing evened out.
"Wha...Logan? Where..."
"Yeah, darlin'." he replied, helping her unobtrusively sit up. "Here." The older mutant pressed the faintly steaming cup into her hands and saw her flick a questioning glance up at him, then took an experimental sip and grinned.
"It pretty good, mon ami." she said, not making any effort to move from her position against his side.
With an answering grin, he poured himself a portion and took a slow, appreciative sip.
The drink was refreshing, soothing, but not drugged.
He watched Cayanne out of the corner of his eye as she stretched her legs out comfortably, sipping the hot drink slowly.
"So where are we, den?" she asked, taking another drink.
"Far as I can tell we're on a ship, at sea." Logan replied, sniffing the air unobtrusively. "Pretty far out."
Cayanne looked thoughtful. "Why somebody wanna 'nap us an' take us t' sea?" she asked, settling back against her mentor's solid shoulder.
"I dunno, darlin' - but I intend on findin' out."

"It is he?" That rich, expressive voice held a faint not only of awed suprise, but of hope.
"Yes." The slightly shorter figure was staring out into the faintly trickling rain.
"At last." It came out as a breath. He turned to his companion. "What is it, old friend?"
"I..." A long pause. "I feel such shame." It came out as an admission. "I am..."
"Who your sire is is no stain on your noble soul, old friend." A hand rested on the introspective figure's shoulder.
"I?" The silver-haired figure turned, eyes catching the faint light. "If not for me, our...guest....might have not suffered as he did..."
"Again, the sins of your sire are not yours to bear."
"Giri might argue that."
A faint smile, gentle and affectionate. "Giri is a truth I revealed, one among many. They needed such, and over time, it permeated the culture I meant it as a guiding light, not a bonfire."
The other smiled as the room's gentle light revealed his features.
"Go back to my faithful servants, Hatch." It was a command, but the honest respect within eased it to a command only slightly above a request. "And ensure our..."
"Guests?"
A chuckle. "Guests, aye. See to what they may need. I have made arrangements." The other, deeper-voiced speaker commented.
"You have spoken to the samurai, then?"
Faint embers burned in the green-gold eyes that turned toward him. "Samurai? He has no right to the title, for he is in disgrace The Yoshida will pay for it's sins. Their leader so desired to become Lord of the clan, he must pay the price." A fleck of red-fire-golden burned bright in his eyes for a moment. "My price."
Hatch bowed, and was gone.
"Now." considered the other, musing aloud. "Now it begins."

Logan considered a break out, but dismissed the idea for several reasons. One was that with a group of experienced ninja on board would make it difficult, and he knew Cayanne would be in serious jeopardy.
The teen-ager was good, damn good, but a group of combat-ready ninja could well take her down.
No, it was better to get a feel for what they wanted, and why.
Even though he hated confinement as much as his younger companion, he forced himself to patience.
Meanwhile, he watched Cayanne stalk back and forth in the limited space, full of frustrated energy.
Finally, she sighed and sat back down next to him.
"You not gonna try a breakout 'cause o' me, oui?" the Cajun asked.
Logan regarded her with a bit more respect - not that it had been lacking to begin with, but apparently his younger companion didn't have much concern about her ego in a crisis.
He was a bit suprised when a flicker of affection rippled through his heart.
"There're ninja out there, darlin'." he observed, shifting a little to get more comfortable. "At least two, probably more."
"Ya could take out a small army 'lone, dere, Logan." she returned, with a rakish grin. "But merci."
The older mutant chuckled. "Yer welcome." he replied.
Suddenly changing topics, the teen-ager suggested, "Since we stuck here fer while, why we not play a game?"
Logan stared at her. "A game?"
"Oui."
"What kinda game ya got in mind?" Now he was curious.
"Hmm." She rested the tip of her first left finger on her chin. "I ask you question, you ask me question."
"That's a game?"
"Is if ya hang around with mutants enough." she grinned up at him.
Logan chuckled despite himself. Despite his normal reluctance to discuss his past - what little he recalled - he was oddly comfortable with his younger companion. "Yer on." he replied.
"I go first." she said, and considered. "Why you not ever talk 'bout yerself?"
"Not a lot ta talk about." his voice was carefully unconcerned. "Lost mosta my memories a long time ago." Then he smiled at the teen-ager. "Why don't you ever talk about yerself?"
"Same reason." shrugged the Cajun, which startled him. But she went on to the next question. "You not like yer past much. Why?"
"Don't much care for bein' a lab rat." He regarded her. "Why don't you trust anyone?"
Cayanne's silver-on-black eyes widened just a little, but before he could form an apology, she replied, "Too much baggage from past." Then she looked up at him. "Why you trust me?"
"'Cause I can." he replied, honestly.
"Oui. Ya can." Cayanne replied, quietly. Then she asked, "If could get memories, would ya want dem?"
It was a strange question, but Logan only shrugged and nodded.
The young Cajun looked up at him again, considered, then said, "I could try help."
He started. "I don't know if anyone can. Even Chuck's tried."
"Xavier not feel wit his tel'pthy. I do. Maybe I can. You want me t' try?"
Despite himself, Logan was more than a little uncomfortable with the idea. Anyone entering his mind had always been more than a little - confusing. And it had always roused fight-or-flight feelings with him.
But not now.
For some odd reason, indifinable and defying any attempt to analyze, he trusted the teen-ager.
So he breathed out a breath he'd been unaware of holding.
"Okay, darlin'." he replied, startling himself.
Cayanne regarded him a long moment, then inched a bit closer, rising up on her knees. She lightly touched his face with her fingertips and...

White light. Explosion. A roar of rage and pain.
Blood.
Claws.
Logan. a voice in the madness that his confused memories had always been. The jumble faded, and he was suddenly sitting in a silent room with no features, Cayanne across from him. Dere lots of wierd metal-feelin' here.
What the hell....?
I feel it. All in pieces.
Logan was confused, wary. He was more confused at the fact he'd been crazy enough to let the teen-ager put herself at risk like this. Some of his memories - almost-memories - were ugly and fearful, things he'd never let her see if he could avoid it.
But...
Memory implants. he managed to return, somehow.
Ce qui?
Put there by Weapon X....ta keep me...under control...
I remove dem?
What? Logan was startled.
Dey like a broken mirror....all in pieces...but dey in places I see. Not like...like feelin'-image, not like dis. Dey....like taste of metal. Dis one....
Flick of memory. Walking down a hall. Sabertooth on one side. Silver Fox on the other. Walking down the hall and talking.
Yank.
Strange almost-pain, just....flash of image.
Being dragged. Blood-scent and anger, arms pinned behind him. Rage.
In a strange overlapping image, the second image entered his sense of - realness - as the other faded behind it.
Logan felt flickers of confusion, almost fear. Fear that one lie could be replaced by another. Fear that every memory might be a lie.
You not feel fake, you feel real. Cayanne's voice was only open and honest.
Do it. But...watch yerself, darlin'. He didn't think about everything that could happen. In honesty, he didn't care about what happened to him - if he remembered. It was what he needed. One of the few things he felt he truly needed.
Careful little flickers.
Hesitation.
hurt ya.
Do it.
Yank.
TEAR.
Logan felt/watch/sensed myraids of images, uncountable instants, flash by, incomprehensable, too quickly to be watched. A strange blur of his life, faint pain he ignored. Like an infection opened, the pain was almost unendurable. But it was a clean pain, and the image/senses seemed to settle, as if falling into place, overwriting the lies.
But he could still see the lies.
He just didn't feel them.
Cayanne backed up a mental pace, and hesitated.
Merci.

And the metal on the wall was underneath his hand, his claws extended.
Cayanne's expression was concerned as she offered him a cup of now-cold tea.
He drank it down gratefully.
"I should thank ya." he said, horsely.
"Non. You let Cayanne in, y' trusted me. Merci." she repeated, settling agaisnt the wall.
"Yeah, darlin'." he wrapped an arm around her, held her against his side. "But you trusted me."
"Oui."
"Why?"
She stared at him a long moment, then said softly, "Because you not just de Wolverine. You Logan too."
Memories aligning themselves, flashes of almost-images, like negatives in pale light.
It passed quickly, but he felt a mental pressure for a few more minutes, as if the bulk of his memories went back far more than he imagined.
Metal walls, metal floors. No reflections, only dead sterility.
The voice of the head of Weapon X, but not confidant as normal. Not arrogant and condesending before inflicting pain.
Frightened. Serville.
Cold, familiar voice. Cruel without emotion. Callous and unfeeling and - dead.
Flicker along unreflecting metal, eyes of dead fire.
A huge shadow, and beside it, an even larger one. But reptillian-demonic, with the eyes of a corpse.
Distant silence...the sound of tears, the sound of children crying...
Logan's eyes snapped open.
Cayanne was trembling.
"There's somethin' you don't want me to remember." It wasn't a question.
"Oui." she replied, averting her eyes. She was tense, and he could hear her heart hammering.
"But ya didn't take it."
"Non."
"But you could have, darlin'." His voice was soft as he used the tips of his fingers to tilt her chin back, staring down into her alien eyes.
"Would not steal dat, Logan." she managed to whisper. "Dat would be like - takin' a piece of you."
Her skin was freezing.
"Dammit, darlin'..." He grabbed the small pot and poured more into her cup, glaring until she downed it and her shivering eased. Shaking her lightly, he said, "Don'cha do that again."
Cayanne managed a shrug, but her expression was haunted.
He sighed and tucked the teen-ager against his side.
"I owe ya." he whispered.
"Non. You my sensei, oui?" she managed a smile. A bit shaky, but a smile.
"Yeah." He was taking on a serious responsiblity, and he knew it. And he stared at her a long moment.
She was hiding something.
Not just from him.
From herself as well.
Despite his attempts to remain detached, a fierce sense of protective affection rose in him, and for the first time he realized something.
She was being honest.
Not just with words, or actions.
With her soul.
Cayanne was a bit puzzled when Logan's half-embrace tightened, but she didn't resist it.
Despite all her efforts, she slid into sleep.
Logan removed his fingertips from the pressure point he'd touched, and settled her against him.
Damn stubborn Cajun. he grumbled to himself.
He closed his eyes, let the almost-awareness flicker past his conciousness.
A young boy, killing a dog - a puppy for imagined slights, an unintended hurt. Tears for the beast.
That was a secret, something added to hide something else. A truth now unhidden from the lie.
He didn't know where he and Cayanne were being taken, but he was going to find out.
It seemed they were both on two journeys - within and without.
But she had given one thing, without showing it on the surface, he could never repay.
Tears for the beast.