(Four)

Logan hung up his phone with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes on a blinding headache.

"You okay?"

The soft question came from Karen. His wife was sitting on the couch, curled up while nursing Carter in her arms. She had been very clingy with this young one lately and Wolverine knew well the reason. Karen was still shaken over having to remove Angel from Kimble and it was driving the mother in her into hyperdrive. She didn't regret the decision, seeing it as unfortunately necessary, but that hadn't been enough to kill the guilt. Since then she had canceled a few of her appointments to spend more time with all the kids. With all the tension going on in their world right now, Logan didn't see this as a bad thing.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Logan replied. He normally didn't discuss work with Karen, but the sadness in her eyes prompted him to say, "Remy just brought Kimble home from Aiden's. Seems the boys chose to make up."

Karen's face brightened a little at that, the desired effect. "So Kimble is happy now?"

"Yeah, fer now I guess."

He crossed the room and snuggled down next to her on the couch, getting comfortable. He didn't argue when she offered him their son and smiled when she lay her head on his shoulder. He felt a surge of contentment then, that everything was so perfect in this moment. Carter gurgled happily as he nursed from the bottle and grasped Logan's finger, the grip from his odd shaped fingers already greater than that of his sisters at the same age. Claws, Logan was thinking. He's going to have claws.

That was going to be fun. Wolverine chuckled softly when he recalled how many times Molly had complained about ripping her clothes simply getting dressed. If Carter was a squabbler, there could be some interesting fights in his future, too. He was probably going to be a handful.

"What?" Karen asked drowsily from his shoulder. She was warm and comfortable, happy to have her husband home.

"Nuthin'. Was just thinking how cute he is."

"Just like dad," she mumbled, finally slipping away into sleep.

Logan just laughed again and held his son close, feeling the pain from his stress headache vanish. He was watching his son, all that happiness killing that pesky headache quickly. Carter was eating heartily, growing quickly. His eyes were changing to match Logan's steel blue grey, somber and serious. A Logan if there ever was one.

"Gonna hafta teach ya ta growl," Wolverine teased softly, sounding odd with his rough voice. "That is, if ya want ta impress the ladies. That's how I got yer mom, ya know."

Carter gurgled happily around the nipple in his mouth, almost smiling. Logan couldn't help but grin himself at the sight. Impossible that he had put off having kids until now, they had satisfied a hole inside of him that he hadn't known was there. He had always feared the long years of his life, now he realized that while he might lose some family, watching over the generations to come might not be so bad. He had accepted that Karen would probably pass before he did, but she wouldn't leave so big a gap, the kids would fill it, and then their kids, too. Now that Molly was pregnant that family was growing, a thought that pleased him enormously. He had a real place now, a real family and not just the company of a few select friends. This was so much more than simply being part of a team.

He brought Carter up close to his face, breathing in the scent of his tender offspring. He would do anything to protect this, he would even beat down the doors of Hell. Jael wasn't going to stand a chance, the arrogant fuck. Just let him try.

(break)

Remy made it home, double time. He wanted to be home, he wanted to be done. He came in, smiling when he smelled the lingering scents from their supper. An unhappier Kimble may have picked at his food only just a few hours ago, but Gambit had enjoyed every bite. Molly was a superb cook and he treasured her. He couldn't stop himself from opening the fridge, poking around for leftovers.

Soft clawed hands touched him, a light bark woofed in his ear.

He turned to look into the lovely blue eyes of his wife. "Bonjour, chere."

Still hungry?

"A growin' boy's gotta eat."

Molly just laughed and grabbed a plate for him. Truth was, Gambit was underweight by medical standards and probably always would be. His metabolism was a driving steam engine that never quit. As fast as the food went in, he burned it off, something that hadn't changed much even as he was growing older. Molly always had something leftover for him to pick at, knowing it wouldn't last long enough to spoil.

Remy sat at the table, let her warm up his food. When she moved by him, he reached out and gently touched her, making her smile at him. Where did you go?

"Went to see Set'. Found 'im workin' late in de Lab."

What did you see him for?

"Jus' checkin' up on 'im. 'E's doin' better. Had to go rustle up Kim after, 'e all good wit Aiden now so of course 'e stay out too late. 'E's all better now, too."

What would you do without Siskans to look after? Molly teased, her eyes merry.

He took her hand, "Probably stop neglectin' m' wife. Gonna lose 'er if I'm not too careful. Some 'andsome young guy gonna come an' sweep 'er off 'er feet. Take 'er away from me." He had intended to come off as playful, but that close call at Aiden's still had him rattled.

She came close, sensing some seriousness in his tease and kissed him. One already did, he's right here in front of me. Shh. Don't tell my husband, it'll be our secret, she teased in return, trying to lighten his mood.

"Okay, chere," he promised, kissing her more. The microwave chimed and she tried to back away, but he held her, not ready to let go just yet. They were quiet a moment, then the spell passed, and life went on. He ate his meal, talking about nothing things as she sat with him, comfortable. A soft chime from his computer announced he had mail and he looked over to his desk. Seth had sent him the files as promised.

Ten minutes later, Molly curled up on the couch nearby with a book while Remy poured himself a nice rum and Coke and sat back in his computer chair, ready to work. He had a small work area off to one side, a desk with a fast and speedy laptop on it, and he was ready to peruse the first file Seth uploaded. He wasn't worried about the transfer being detected, one of the advantages of being one of Seth's closest friends was that the Siskan had a way of encrypting and masking the files transferred. No one would be able to track down the source of this file, it would appear as though Remy had stolen it if anyone were able to discover the thief even possessed it.

Gambit himself wasn't too terribly concerned, he was more interested in what he was about to learn. He had no idea what to expect, but found himself slightly excited. He was a sucker for a good story and judging by Seth's reaction, this promised to have some interesting turns. He took a sip from his glass and opened the file.

He read a little of Seth's translation, but then stopped, seeing that something wasn't quite right. Seth's translation wasn't as it should be. He decided to look over the original text and soon saw that Seth's translation wasn't exact. Seth knew classical Siskan, but not its full complexity. Kimble's imprinted knowledge of Siskan on Remy's brain was far more exact, he understood the full richness and nuances, enough that he left Seth's translation behind, wanting the full and unabridged version.

The first section was dated only the third day Aiden had arrived here.

My dearest Kimble,

The fine blue doctor that works here saw fit to give me this book, saying I should write down my "feelings", try to work out the "grief" I must be feeling over the death of my Master and the loss of my home. I have great faith in this "Beast", his shine glimmers with the truest heart and a deep loving soul. As the Chuckfet go, he's one of the best I've ever met. I'm only sorry that he's so sad and lonely. He has no mate., no one to care for him on the inside where he deserves it most. I know he compensates for this with his work, he spreads out the love he might have given to such a mate to us all instead. He asks for no reward, only gives of himself so selflessly. I greatly admire this trait in him, it's something I have never been able to accomplish in myself. I could only hope to be as good a man as he.

Remy paused, surprised to read something so heartfelt and thoughtful from Aiden. It had seemed to Gambit that the Siskan had paid very little attention to Beast as he did to most of the others here. Looked like he was wrong. He had a feeling he was about learn that there were a great many things he was mistaken about when it came to this mysterious Siskan and he was right.

Aiden went on to say :

Yes, I do feel grief for all I've lost, but as much as I admire the great Dr. Henry McCoy, I think this book shall serve another purpose. I will write down my life for you, dearest Kimble. To help you learn what you've lost, to help you better understand what you might gain in knowing me.

There are no words to describe the feelings you have aroused in me, both the good and the bad. I love you more than I have loved any other, and that was true before I ever came to this strange new home where I now live. There are so many things I want to tell you, so many answers to those questions you fail to ask me for whatever reason, but I don't know how best to say what needs to be said. When Henry offered me this book, I saw an opportunity. I've always been a man of few words, but I'm greedy with the pen. Let's see if I can use that to pass along that which you need to know.

Yes, I must do this, I must record my life for you to read and understand what we now face. I have put this off way too long, I should have done this years ago when Asher finished his work and cleared my mind.

I feel the changes coming. I feel it in the air, I felt it in the way my Master looked at me on the morning of his death. The Game is beginning. It actually started more than eighty years ago, when the evil ones scattered us to the winds like so much garbage. Now the real playing has begun. I feel such fear. I am a worthless trinket, an object to be used. An item with no rights. I fear my death as willed by those of the flesh, the Chuckfet, as if they would be a god over me.

I am the Dreamer and I dreamed of you, Kimble. I knew I would see you again and that perhaps this time, we might get a chance to finish something that was actually begun long ago.

Maybe it's better if I start at the beginning.

My story begins as yours does, at the most beautiful place in the universe - Siska. We were blessed to be born in one of the great castles of Tushnacray, in the middle climes where the temps stay fair enough for the doors and windows of the great balconies to stay open round the year. The castle was up high, topping a peak of a small mountain that fell down into the fair and well grown fields of crops that spread out as far as the eye could see. This was a prosperous land and no one here went hungry.

Of special magnificence were the mountains of the Mornay range that overlooked everything. They were tall and jagged, but most of all, peaked with deep white snow. Nothing so cold ever touched us personally, but those peaks glistened up there in the sun so pleasantly that it seemed that great spirits must live there watching over us. I was never so lucky to ever have gone up there, but I dreamed of it often and have painted it from the memories of it that still remain.

Quishnalay was quite rich, rich enough to escape the law and live as he pleased. He purchased and lived in apartments in the Inner Gardens. This was one of the most sheltered yet prettiest areas in the center of the castle itself. The castle was massive, allowing for him to have an acre or more of his own personal space. He had rooms as part of the main building, but also had outbuildings and bungalows about that belonged to him. Most of his property was in the form of gardens filled with flowers of every color and shape. Fruit trees filled with birds gave great shade and there were many benches of stone about for those who would share it.

And those that would share it? Well, Quishnalay was the creator of many fine Courtesans such as ourselves, but more than that, he was the proud owner of one of the finest pleasure houses in the castle, and others far away as well. Clients from all over Siska would come to visit his rooms, paying any price for what he could and would provide.. Nothing was beyond him, all manners of pleasure were there for the asking. Vice is always lucrative and Quishnalay was sure to spread that wealth to those in power, enough that he was left to run his house as he pleased with no threat of incarceration.

Quishnalay learned the craft of Creation from his father and he learned it well. Holographic Courtesans do not have to be paid and require less maintenance then their human counterparts. Give us a bright shiny toy and all thoughts of greed and money flee from our minds. Quishnalay made his fortune on us Siskan chattel and never once considered sharing it with us. Why would he? We were not real and we never would be.

Quishnalay's name was well known in certain circles and it wasn't long before he was approached by a Dognan King named Paladon. Paladon was the original Games Master and he wanted a large order of illegal 'grams for which he would pay handsomely. And by the way, would Quishnalay mind customizing some of them just a little bit? Of course not, not when there was a great big pile of gold promised. The deal was struck and the rest is well ... history.

My name is Aiden now, but it wasn't always so. The first born, Talalanay, was the one who began as me.. Quishnalay made a huge clutch of Courtesans. I am not sure of the total number of us in that clutch, but I think there were sixty or more of us in all. Were also all Lushna-esk, the holograms who could feel.

Remy paused here, his mind struck numb with wonder. It was true that he didn't know Aiden well and was about to learn more, but this he hadn't thought of - Aiden wasn't the original personality of the Siskan he had come to know as the Dreamer. Gambit had assumed Aiden was first because Kimble had been first and was the most stable of all the bits of him that had come around to being. He had assumed that since Aiden seemed stable that he was first. He had just been told otherwise. Remy didn't know if the fact that Aiden came later would end up being significant or not.

As I said, we were all born of the same clutch. This means that over ninety percent of our codes are identical. Like the DNA that rules the Chuckfet, it's that last two or three percent that have been altered that make us the unique and brilliant personalities that we are today.

Being born as a Siskan Courtesan is rather like waking from a long sleep. There is a kind of disorientation - who am I? What am I? Where is this place I now find myself in? Talalanay came to life slowly, following a bright tunnel of light until it opened wide and there we were, laying on a bed of soft pillows and silken blankets. Sight and sound came to us next, showing us the bright colors and music of this world called life. The bed was dressed in reds, a color most Siskans cherish, and the music was from recording discs being played on a machine near by. All was bliss and light.

I often speak of myself in the plural. This is no accident. I have been broken for so long, I am simply more used to us this way. The sad truth is, I did not remain one person for long, as you will soon see.

"Hello there," came a voice.

Talalanay looked up and saw a man. Quishnalay was sitting in a nearby chair, dressed in a suit made of soft tan leather. He was a large man and in his late thirties, with short cropped hair. He did not appear as the businessman he actually was, he was well muscled and a little rough. It was only when at Court or entertaining guests that he wore his best. Most times it was the leather or even rough homespun when working. He was more of a craftsman than a entrepreneur Talalanay was later to learn and so he dressed that way. Quishnalay got his hands dirty in the making of us. Siskans were his primary business, the brothel was just a side operation and gravy for the goose. He loved his craft and loved his Siskans. When Quishnalay smiled on young Talalanay on his first day of life, the boy saw that love.

Talalanay was new and his mind empty, he didn't know too many things, but he instinctively knew this was the Master. The one who was to be obeyed. Talalanay did not understand the words spoken to him, but wanted to. He wished to respond, to say how marvelous all this glorious color and music was, but he had no way to express himself.

Quishnalay knew this and said next, "Have no fear. You will learn quickly, my dear."

The ways Siskan Courtesans learn come in so many ways. We prefer the usual manual way by far. This would be physical instruction that comes from words and books and being shown how to perform various tasks. Unfortunately this takes time and the Chuckfet are not always so patient.

Quishnalay was a Siskan human of high status and his apartments were huge, encompassing several gardens and outbuildings. One such outbuilding contained the Gifting Room. It was a title of his choosing and only confirms his terrible and thoughtless arrogance. It housed a machine, a large computer who's sole purpose was to import information violently into our holographic hard drives.

It was the same day of our birth that Quishnalay brought young Talalanay here. Talalanay was fresh and empty, blissfully ignorant of all things. He was in the skin of a young child, a boy of only six or seven years old. Quishnalay had these child skins as our defaults to keep us out of trouble, but also to help him recognize us. Each of us was different, our gender based on personality traits he could see in us as we became better formed. He saw Talalanay as stronger than some and so gave us the skin of a young boy while others were weaker and more frail, dressed as girls.

Talalanay was so open and so bright, he was mesmerized instantly by the great gardens he was brought through as he was taken to the bungalow that contained this Gifting Room. My memories of the gardens are almost always of that first moment of discovery. That brilliance of color, the sight and sounds of multicolored birds giving forth their great music. It was heaven certainly as the humans describe it. Nothing has ever come close to that.

Quishnalay brought Talalanay here to give him the gift of language. He brought Talalanay to the Gifting Room and lay him on a long flat table, strapping him down. Talalanay was laughing, high on the heady sensation of touch. The Master's hands were warm and the heat of it no greater pleasure. A headdress was placed on young Talalanay and then came a great and blinding pain.

Talalanay screamed as knowledge poured in like a great and evil torrent. It was blinding and bright, coming in much too fast to be any thing but pure torture. It was like a kind of rape, having all of that forced into you without your consent. The first time this is done will always remain the worst because you don't know it's coming. After that one can at least brace themselves.

When it was done, Talalanay suddenly understood the words spoken to him. The Master was here, touching him again softly in apology for so rude a process. It wouldn't stop him from doing it again, the fuck.

Anyway, Talalanay was given language and then the learning began in much more gentler forms. Now came books and teachers and Talalanay learned about Siska and what it was to be a Courtesan.

Life was good at first, so much to explore and enjoy.

Contrary to some stories that have gone around about us, being a Courtesan is more than being a simple fuck toy, something most Chuckfet never truly see.. We were made to be sold out and sent away from our Maker. We were designed to fully insinuate ourselves into the lives of our new Masters, to perform all functions of the house as well as the bedroom. To this end, Talalanay spent many days in class. He was taught how to cook those dishes most favored by the human Siskans, learning his own love of food along the way. Cooking was like a dance, a play of colors and smells, and Talalanay was quite good at it.

He learned also how to organize a house, how to make shopping lists and clean like a fiend. Most Courtesans I know are neat freaks, it's programmed in. We like to be clean and tidy, to please the Master by caring for all of his needs. Talalanay learned to wash clothes and furnishings, learning to have a care for the delicate things. He learned to make beds and sweep and take out the waste. Sounds corny, huh? Not really. What is love but the taking care of those we treasure?

Talalanay did learn the arts of pleasure of course. He was taught to dance and sing, to provide joy with the sound of his voice and the movements of his body. These were the precursors to the real purpose of our being, the art of sexual pleasure. It wouldn't do to simply fall into bed and couple madly like uncivilized animals. No, there was a whole design and grace to what lay before the actual act of sex. We were trained to create an atmosphere of safety and retreat so that the Master would always have a place to go where he could relax and leave all the cares of his life behind. They could find a place to hide in us.

To help in this, a Courtesan must be aesthetically pleasing. Talalanay was given some skins to work with. His primary or default skin was still the one he was given at birth, that of a young boy. This skin carried the blue Mark of Receiver, but for the moment, all that Mark meant to Talalanay was that he was decorated. He knew nothing of the Game or his future purpose. The significance of being a Receiver wouldn't come into play for a while yet.

Talalanay remained for the most part in that young boy skin when he performed the duties of the house. It helped to Mark him as a Courtesan in the first place and it pleased Quishnalay to have him smaller, making him easier to correct and punish if need be. Like all the young ones, he wore a leather collar about his neck with a fine brass plate that had his name written on it so all would know him on sight. It couldn't be removed, it was part of the skin itself. Talalanay learned his lessons quickly, his built in desire to please causing him to go out of his way to avoid his Master's wrath. The punishments were simple, a slap on the back of the hand, a raised voice, a smack on the head. Not so very painful on the outside, but hurtful and wounding on the inside. Talalanay wanted to please and so he did, being corrected only very rarely.

Quishnalay was our Master and he saw to it that we were trained, but couldn't handle the huge task all by himself. Talalanay didn't know it at the time, but he was part of a huge clutch. It was very rare to produce a clutch of our size, we numbered just over sixty in all if my tally was correct. He had to care for us, train us, and most of all, keep us in line. In order to pull this off, Quishnalay had several assistants to help him out. We were divided into small groups and we never saw all of our members. I think Talalanay grew to know maybe four or five of our clutchmates, all children like himself. He learned with them in the same class, but as they later departed, we have never seen them again. So innocent was Talalanay that he never questioned their leaving, it simply happened and life went on. Even now I have no idea of their fates.

Like his clutchmates, Talalanay possessed multiple skins for play. One was a lovely young man, another was a dark haired woman. He felt the same regardless of what skin he wore, age is within, not on the outside for us. All the skins showed Talalanay's beauty, the perfect, pure manufactured heart within. Talalanay was a good Courtesan, he was compliant and thoughtful, always laughing and kind. A top notch product. Quishnalay was so proud.

After a few days of training, when Quishnalay was satisfied that Talalanay knew enough of the menial tasks of the house, he brought him to a pleasure room for the first time.

We Courtesans have the pleasure files as you know, but they are simply implanted memories and they do not have the weight of actual experience. Quishnalay knew this just as he knew that there were those who would pay for the privilege of being the first to "break in" a newly made Courtesan like Talalanay. Money was passed - the first we had ever earned - and Talalanay was handed over for the day.

Talalanay lost his virginity to a Siskan woman of high rank, a Senator if I recall correctly. It was brief and hot and fast. Completely mind blowing. What are files compared with the blast of heat and thunderous heartbeat from the physical body of a living client? It was overwhelmingly beautiful and Talalanay climaxed ridiculously early, shivering at the sound of her laughter tinkling in his ear. He spouted poetic apologies, certain he was to punished, but she only laughed all the harder and took him in again and again, showing him all of her wiles before finishing herself.

Hours later, Talalanay lay next to her sleeping body, his mind swirling with glistening sparkling memories. The love files became facts, became the tools he would later rely on without thinking. He couldn't stop himself from touching her, from smelling the heat coursing through her body, from feeling the strands of her soft, silken hair. When Quishnalay finally came to take him away, Talalanay cried at the separation and begged for her to become his Mistress, but she only smiled at him with amusement and watched as he was taken away, offering nothing more of herself.

Talalanay was heartbroken. Well, at least until Quishnalay brought him to the pleasure room the next day and gave him to another client. It didn't take long for Talalanay to see that the joy he had shared with his first client was the same he would feel with them all. His first client became a dim memory and he threw himself into the pleasure room activities with all the lustful abandon of a precocious and promiscuous teenager. He was insatiable and Quishnalay's pockets grew heavy with gold and silver, his smile wide and pleased.

Talalanay was in heaven, filled with a sense of worth and value. Like all things in Siskan life, it came with a price. Talalanay's fun lasted for a few more days, then halfway though his third week of life, the Kundatesh came.

It comes on us all, those of us that are Lushna-esk, or so it was explained to me by my Master. If it's going to occur, it will come mostly within the first few of weeks after being "born", and so it was with Talalanay.

It starts out small, just the simple intuition about the emotional state of others. You begin to know their thoughts by way of their emotions. You can detect deceit, barely controlled anger, internal emotional pain. These vibrations from others just barge their way into your mind unasked for and disrupting your whole life. You try to help those that suffer as a means to ease your own pain, but it only makes things worse. The greater the contact, the more vibrations you feel.

Before long, contact is no longer needed and you're drinking the stuff right out of the air. This is the worst. All those thoughts creeping in. An argument nearby turns into a vibrational explosion right in front of you, painfully bombarding all of your senses. All you desire is escape, hiding into the small spaces for peace of mind.

As if that is not bad enough, there is a secondary condition that can sometimes follow. It comes to those Lushna-esk destined for greater things, for those of us that are just a little more special than most. Being a Receiver with powerful energy codes, it was pretty much inevitable for Talalanay that it would happen to him. It's called Shemusk, the Great Awakening.

Shemusk is best described as a sort of puberty. It is a time of much confusion and explosive emotion. The pleasure files the Master so thoughtfully provided Talalanay with kicked in, wanting to have a say. Talalanay went into full heat, spending most of his time fully aroused with an insatiable sexual hunger.

Sex is everywhere in a Siskan Master's house and Quishnalay's was no exception. As I said, his primary source of income was his massive brothel. Whatever erotic notions one might have, they could be served here.

Talalanay was always an eager participant in the goings on of course, it was what he was programmed for. In the case of his growing Shemusk, the pleasures helped to beat Talalanay's suffering and the pain of everything else that was coming in. At least for a while.

Beginning with Shemusk, Talalanay thought to hide here in the pleasure rooms, burying himself in whatever available clients that awaited. It didn't help. The harder he played, the more he wanted. It was constantly on his mind, making him consider playing with those he had never once thought of before - the servants, the attendants, his clutchmates. Not even that would help. What greater torment than this? To play and play and yet never be satisfied. This is true Shemusk, the greatest evil.

It hit Talalanay so hard. He suddenly felt all alone and filled with a strange fire he couldn't put out. Nothing would satisfy this horrible craving - no food, no drink, no amount of comforting touches from the others around him. It was like being perpetually hungry, but not for food. You desire something unsubstantial yet far more satisfying. He would return time and time again to the pleasure rooms only to climax without satisfaction, burning with desire over and over again. He would fuck and fuck until he would fall dead asleep with exhaustion, sleep being his only escape from this strange affliction.

It is more than a simple sexual hunger, there is also the hyper sensitivity to the emotional vibrations. We feel them always, but now they had kicked up a notch, speaking to Talalanay with their own voices. The constant whispering was both frightening and frustrating. Talalanay had no control over this and it was debilitating, constantly knowing the feelings of others. He grew angry and sulky, unreasonable in his inability to control the depth of his own emotions. He was happy one moment and then crying the next. He was almost perpetually miserable.

I have Talalanay's memories and they do serve me with the knowledge of Shemusk though I can safely say the hurt of it no longer is with me. It doesn't mean I don't know the look of it when I see it. I have not actually seen Shemusk in another many times. My experience is mostly with mature Lushna-esk Courtesans but I did see it some years ago, it was within a human of all creatures, something I never expected to see.

Funny how Remy never spoke of it, being that it has to do with him, but it hasn't taken me long to see he has withheld much from you, my pretty. Something I intend to rectify.

Remy paused, frowning and offended. If he had withheld anything from Kimble it was done from love, not malicious intent. Furthermore, he had no idea what Aiden was getting at. Shemusk was news to him, something Trishnar nor any of his Siskans had spoken of while he was there. What was Aiden talking about? Not getting any answers from his own mind, Remy returned to the text. What he read next stunned him.