Rain fell that night, a fine, whispering rain.

Many years later, Meggie had only close

her eyes and she could still hear it, like

tiny fingers tapping on the window pane.

A dog barked some where in the darkness,

and however often she tossed and turned,

Meggie couldn't get to sleep.

Yes, it was childish, but the quality of Cornelia Funke's writing was too much to pass up.

Mortimer had slipped into a true slumber only an hour or so before, and now that the drugs had worn off,

she could be sure that there'd be no more specters to haunt his dreams…. Well…. She frowned, knowing

there would always be that haunting fear….

"Ms Munro?"

Ororo looked up from the engrossing dialogue of her book, blushing red in the cheeks at being

discovered pouring over a children's novel. "Yes Bobby?"

"It's Toa-" he paused, wary of her impending glare, "-Mr. Toynbee. He's having one of his fits

again."

Hearing this, she promptly set reading aside, drawing a bathrobe over her revealing night attire and

pushing past an awestruck Iceman.

Flashback

One thousand and ninety five day ago, two drunks had pulled him from the wrath of the sea - out of

the frying pan, into the fire.

Mutant hatred had found an outlet that night… And for the next seven months.

Seven months. Two hundred and ten days. Five thousand and forty hours of pure hell. Darkness and pain.

His screaming until his words were nothing more than unintelligible gibberish. His limbs beaten useless.

When Xavier had finally detected him… It had been nearly too late.

End Flashback

Ororo arrived in the holding facility, jogging down the hall of bared doors and energy barriers, her

face betraying thoughts of panic.

Xavier was already there, along with a scowling Logan, a stone-faced Scott, and a frightened

Marie.

How can you just stand there? She thought, glaring at their team leader angrily. Truly, there was

nothing the visored man could do, any way. Nonetheless, she elbowed past them brusquely, ignoring the

look of disagreement from Xavier. She stepped cautiously up to the window, placing a hand on the glass

and peering in.

Mortimer crouched in the center of the room, his chest heaving angrily as he glared at the air about

him. His cell was ransacked; Cot over turned, side table smashed, television in multiple corners. Other

items, mangled past identification, lay strewn about the room. She pressed a com button, calling softly into

the receiver, "Mortimer, what have you done?"

He turned with a snarl at the uttered name, leaping gracefully across the room to cling to the

window. "Don't use that name, weather witch." Storm winced. His voice, in norm, so soft and gentle, was

now sharp, dripping with anger and disdain. "M'name's Toad. Mark that, woman. It'd be a mistake on

your part to forget."

The X-men shifted uneasily behind her, their hackles rising as they watched the glimpses of an old

rival slinging arrogant threats. Toad's eyes shifted wrathfully upon them, his voice rang out scathingly,

"What're yah looking' at!" He leapt away from the glass, landing gracefully amongst the wreckage. He

sent a chair careening into the wall, splinters flew. "D'yah think this is funny! D'yah love this! D'like

watching me from behind the glass!" He turned away with a snarl. "Damn ya'hall to hell!"

Ororo called patiently into the receiver, "Mortimer. Calm yourself. You don't want to do this.

You are in control, not Toad." Those eyes, golden and writhing with hatred, turned on her. "Mortimer has

no control here, witch. He is nothing." A fierce, malicious grin spread across his face. "You know that,

don't you, witch?" She was forced to look away, averting her eyes from his. He leapt again, his face was

now inches from hers, his voice softer. "Don't you?"

She turned away. These fits had been emerging more and more often, bringing out the cruel side

in Mort. All the years of torment and anger and sweat and tears… All associated with the single degrading

name that had been thrust upon his by humanity - Toad. The worst of it was, the spells had been getting

longer. Now as the green man shrugged away from the glass to stalk across the short expanse of his room,

she knew there was not much in her power she could do to defend his mind but refer to her least favored

tactic. Folding her arms across her chest and bowing her head, she whispered the weighted words to Scott.

"Give him the tranquilizer." She walked away.

Thanks to all the lovely peeps who reviewed, it made me want to write more.

To Nytilc, yes, good guess, it was Inkheart I quoted...