(Eight)

Kimble was lost. He had walked into the shop looking for something, but he couldn't remember what it was. He paused when he saw Fallen sitting on the shop bench, waiting for him. She was naked and beautiful to his eyes. She was also happy to see him, she spread her legs for him and held her hands out in invitation. "Come here, Kimble. Take my pain."

Kimble recognized those words, he'd heard them repeated just a few too many times now, each time he had dreamed Fallen had said them. Now that he knew he was dreaming again, Kimble was instantly filled with terror. "No!" he snarled and retreated instantly, not wanting any of what he got the last time. He was a quick boy and learned fast, so he did. If he could leave quickly, perhaps this wouldn't turn into the nightmare it always seemed to be. He stopped in his tracks when he bumped into someone behind him.

Of course it was his new personal monster, Mr. Mirror Face. Kimble was grabbed roughly and the shattered face leaned into him, the deep gravelly voice coming at him from that horrible distorted mouth. "Know what happens when it's all work an' no play, huh? Heh, heh, I do. But yer ass I do! Yer gonna looks real nice with a face like mine!"

"Nnnooo!" Kimble screamed and tore himself away. He tried to run down the hall to the stairs leading up and out the trap door but his feet became leaden and too heavy to move. It was one those stupid nightmare tricks, he was suddenly mired in invisible quicksand. He couldn't run fast enough and Mirror Face was right behind him.

"Help me!" Kimble shouted towards the upper level, but of course nobody came. He wasn't real, he was just a stupid worthless hologram and didn't matter in the true scheme of things. No one would care about him when he was gone. They all hated him anyway, each and every one. He began to sob wildly when he felt the hands grab him and turn him around. The knife came to his throat.

"You'll never be rid of me, boy. Dontcha know who I am?"

"Lemmie go! I'll be good, I swears!" Kimble bawled, all of his control gone.

"I'm Zander. I'm you!"

Kimble managed another twisted scream before his throat was cut.

(break)

Logan stood over Kimble in the dark, listening to him whimper with fear. It frustrated him that Kimble had no scent. Logan used that as a tool to 'read' people and learn what they were hiding. Kimble's lack of odor denied him that and it bugged him. He did sense something different in the air around Kimble and held his hands out over the pilot's body. He could feel a low vibration tickling the hairs on his arms and he groaned inwardly. He knew what this was. Kimble was giving off very weak telekinetic waves, prompted by his terror probably. This whole situation on this ship was out of control, Kimble being a possible telekinetic just made things worse. What if he could fly or make shields? Telekinetics were very difficult for Wolverine to defend against.

He remembered how surprised Kimble was at his own ability to phase. Maybe he didn't know about this either. That was both good and bad. If he didn't know, he was untrained and could be outmaneuvered. The downside was that he probably wouldn't be able to control his power when he did find out. The possibilities for collateral damage were endless. Logan speculated that Kimble was weak now because Fallen was weak. When she recovered and her Ristle became more powerful, perhaps Kimble would be more powerful, too. Just one more item on today's bitch list.

Now more than ever, Logan believed Kimble was in fact Zander even if he didn't know it himself. Either way, Kimble was in trouble. The real question was, how much trouble was he in and how bad was it going to be for the rest of them? Logan didn't hate Kimble, not really, but he wouldn't hesitate to take him down if he tried to attack or kill anyone.

Logan took a step back when Kimble came violently awake with a strangled cry. Kimble was grabbing at his throat like he was choking. "I ain't no killer..." he gasped, unaware that he wasn't alone. "I ain't you!"

Logan pulled out a cigarette and lit it, illuminating his face. "You got a real big problem, boy," he said in his raspy growl.

"Fuck!" Kimble shrieked in fright and backed away against the wall, scrambling. He was disoriented and terrified, his chest was squeezed tight with panic and he couldn't breathe. He tried to calm himself and not give himself away. He felt nauseated and kept swallowing it down as he gasped for air. What was he going to do? How many more frights was it going to take before he popped a stitch for good?

"Obviously got somethin' on yer mind, boy. Ya wanna talk about it?" Logan offered calmly, pretending not to notice how he'd scared Kimble half to death.

"Shure, like yer the first guy I'd think of ta talk to," Kimble snapped irritably and pulled himself away from the wall. He reached across to the work bench and turned on one of the lamps. He looked terrible, his face was drawn and his eyes were red. He took a cigarette from a nearby glass jar and snapped to light it. "I kin handle it by myself, thanks."

It didn't escape Logan's notice how badly Kimble's hands were shaking. "I'm not sure you can. You ain't lookin' so good."

"It ain't yer problem." Kimble leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He didn't want Wolverine to know how frightened he'd been when he saw who'd been standing there. Kimble didn't differentiate much between Mirror Face and Wolverine, both men terrified him.

"Everything that happens on this ship is my problem, includin' you," Logan replied as he sat comfortably on one of the stools and crossed his arms.

Kimble opened his eyes and leveled his gaze on him. "I ain't nuthin fer you ta worry about. I been workin' on the engines, ain't you happy now?"

"Sure I'm happy. But I won't be forgetting about you until we get home. Until then I'll keepin' my eye on you. Somethin' still ain't right about you. Yer keepin' somethin' down. You want me not worry? Then spill it."

"Humph. Yeah, that'll happen." Kimble got to his feet and started to walk away.

Logan stood up in his way, looking him over with arrogant contempt. He was frustrated by what he saw as the pilot's lack of co-operation. "I'll get it out of ya, one way or another. We can do it nice or we can do it hard. I promise you, you don't wanna see how hard I can be."

"Leave him alone," Henry said from the hallway.

Logan turned to face him. "He's keepin' somethin'. I'll just bet we need ta know what it is."

"Your forms of persuasion don't seem to be working. Leave him alone," Henry repeated firmly. He looked at Kimble and could see how tired he was still. Something was definitely wrong, but Logan wasn't his first choice as therapist. "I'll talk with him."

Logan grunted and backed away, his eyes never leaving Kimble's face. "Best speak up, boy. You don' wanna be dealin' with me." He turned and walked off.

Kimble watched him leave, his face tense and angry. His stomach started to hurt again and he unconsciously began to rub his belly with a fist, trying to smooth away the ache there. "An' he worries 'bout me. Who's watchin' him?"

"Logan means well. He just isn't as good at expressing it as the rest of us. Sit, please. Relax," Henry soothed, guiding Kimble back to the bed. He had noticed Kimble's fist at work and couldn't help but wonder at it, why would a hologram feel pain? As far as he knew, Kimble had no organic parts, but here he was, imitating a human in distress and imitating it just a little too well. Beast guided him back down to the bed and took over Logan's stool. "Now, why don't you tell me why you're sleeping so poorly."

"I just ain't useta dreamin is all," Kimble lied smoothly, resting back against the wall again. "It's a little spooky."

"What are you dreaming about?"

"I dunno. Stuff. I don' really remember the dreams too good."

"Well, now. That is a classic example of evasion if I've ever heard it. You did that quite well. Why don't we try again? I am here to help you. It's clear you are under a strain and could use a kindly ear. You'll find I am quite a good listener. I've gotten good practice in my years as an X-man. I doubt you could surprise me with anything you have to say."

"It's tough bein' out," Kimble said after the obligatory dramatic pause. He figured if he handed Henry something, the man would leave him alone and call Logan off. "Evrathin's different now. I hafta think alla time 'bout evrathin I say, evrathin I do cuz now I kin hurts people an' they kin hurts me back. I ain't useta that. I'm thinkin' alla time 'bout how I'm fuckin' up evratime I open my mouth. Logan's all pissed at me. Maylee's all pissed at me. It sucks."

"Yes, well. We are all under stress right now. I would not concern yourself with Logan, he's like that with most new people he meets. But Maylee does worry me. Perhaps you should try talking with her. Tell her that you're sorry you were so short with her. I'll bet she'll understand."

"Doubt it. Me an' the kid, well...we ain't never got along so good. She likes Seth better'n me. Evraone likes Seth better'n me," Kimble ended softly, unable to hide a tone of bitterness.

"Are you jealous of him?"

Kimble shrugged in a classic evasion. "Not really. I don' wants ta be like him. I likes me. I wants ta be just me. It's jus' that the Kimble Fan Club is a little small, is all."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I like you just the way you are, too. But I think you should try to control your temper a bit more around Maylee. She seems to be a little frightened of you. I still believe you should try and talk to her. Letting these things go too long often times makes them worse."

Kimble considered his words. "All right. I'll give it a try."

Henry stood and patted Kimble's knee. "A good decision. Now, try to relax and get some rest." He walked away and returned to the Engine Room.