Chapter 11

I really don't have the energy left to deal with this display anymore. Rather than try to wrangle these cats, I simply stand and make my way back to the elevator.

"Come on pups, let's get some food. I'm starving."

I can see both of my boys visibly deflate though the mention of food does leave some light in their eyes. Once in the elevator, I turn to Wade and inquire about his doctor visit.

"Dr. Fury Blue Fabulous says everything seems okay for now. He's interested in your theory about how to break up the cancer and is going to do some research on how that might work. I think we're both supposed to come back down tomorrow morning."

"Remy es impressed. Dat es da firs complete sentence he's heard from ya des 'ol time."

I punch Gambit in the shoulder. Now is not the time to provoke the crazy mutant.

"Suck it, glitter-bomb. You're still not cool enough to refer to yourself in the third person."

I'm sure they're both about to through a bitch-fest that would make a drag queen proud so when the elevator door slides open to reveal the dark wood interior of the Westchester mansion, I am utterly grateful.

"Duh-mazing. Let's eat."

But off course, we're never meant to eat.

The explosion that rocks the mansion sends the three of us flying backward into the elevator. I feel my head impact the solid interior wall of the lift and spare a moment to wonder how much more head trauma I'm expected to take before all I can handle is a chew toy and Dora the Explorer reruns.

When I look out into the hallway, all I can see is smoke and shards of charred wood littering the floor.

Jeezus, this is a school!

Knowing that I can be of use, and getting myself off the floor to be of use, quickly become two very different things. I scrape the floor and struggle to get my feet underneath me before finally heaving myself forward on hands and knees. Crawling over the shattered wood turns out to be a seriously horrible idea and I realized this at the same time I realize I have no idea where my two companions have gone to.

Risking the time to turn and look for them makes my whole body quiver in fear but I know that I have to be sure they're both okay. If Wade takes damage, his rapid healing will kick in and the cancer will ravage him in hours. I have no idea what kind of damage Gambit is capable of handling but I doubt he's any more durable than I am.

To the left of me is a smoke-filled hallway and what I would assume to be the kitchen. There are no shapes in the shadows and I wonder where everyone else is. Would now be a bad time to grab a snack?

Isn't this supposed to be a house full of combat-ready mutants?

Why am I the only one here?

Wait…I'm the only one here?

What the fuck?

"Wade!" I scream, suddenly overcome by panic. "Gambit! Where are you?"

Not a single sound reaches my ears. In fact, no sound is reaching my ears. Until this moment I hadn't realized that my world had gone suddenly silent. I don't actually remember hearing the explosion, just feeling the force of it catapult me backwards into the elevator car. This doesn't make any sense.

Am I deaf?

Hefting myself up onto unsteady feet, I begin to shuffle my way toward what I vaguely remember as the front of the house. More debris, more smoke but not a single person in sight. I can only take some small comfort in the fact that I have yet to see any blood.

Where is everyone?

I can hear the sound of my own voice as I call out into the empty space.

"Hello? Is everyone okay? Does anyone need help?"

Still nothing. At least if I can hear myself talking that means I'm probably not deaf but that still doesn't explain why the rest of the world has gone suddenly silent. Eventually I make my way to the front door. It's strange that I haven't even seen who attacked the school. I suppose there's a possibility that this was done from the inside but trying to prove that seems like a ridiculous mission. I don't know enough about this mansion or who's supposed to be here or not be here to be useful.

Recalling many an episode of CSI: Miami, I press myself against the frame of the front door before hazarding a peek around the corner. And if my hands come up as if I'm holding a gun…well…no judging! At least I refrain from yelling out "Miami-Dade Police!"

My sneak-peek reveals an even stranger scene. The grounds seem to be completely peaceful. No signs of life or death to be found. No evidence of the explosion that rocked the estate. This makes no sense. My second peek reveals more of the same and I finally muster up the courage to make my way outside.

As far as the eye can see, there are blue skies, green grass and perfectly manicured English gardens. Xavier's got class. To the right I see the basketball court and the lawn where kids had been playing earlier. There's no sign of the jet or the kids; in fact, there's no indication that anyone has been here for some time.

Suddenly, a noise reaches my ears and it's so loud compared to the absolute silence up until that moment that I wince and pull my head away from the offensive sound. Regaining my composure, I turn to see what caused such a violent crack.

…Nothing. No Apparating wizards, no teleporters…nothing.

Now fear is beginning to take over again. My curiosity is waning and I'm beginning to realize that I really might be the only one left. But self-preservation demands that I not examine that idea any further. I cannot be alone. It's not possible so I won't think about it. Now…problem-solve!

Did I lose consciousness in the elevator?

How long have I been out?

Why would I be the only one left behind?

As I swivel my head back around to the front, time seems to suddenly slow like a movie cliché. I feel the force of the air against my right cheek as my head turns and the sensation of my eyelids sliding over my eyes in a slow blink. I can feel the heat of the sun on my lips and the sensation of every hair on my body standing on end, starting with the hair on my head and rushing down my body to the tiny hairs on my toes.

The abrupt sound of my own gasp scrapes across my eardrums and a figure takes shape before my eyes. In the milliseconds it takes my eyes to focus, the shape goes from a blob of color to the distinct outline of a man…one that I instantly recognize.

"What the fuck Charles Francis Xavier!"

His low chuckle is the first sound since the explosion that didn't make me want to rip my ears off. The man is clothed in his typical style: a three piece suit with a solid blue tie, rich cream vest and a jacket that fit is broad shoulders like a glove. Gotta hand it to him; the man looks good…and vaguely like Captain Picard. I'll save that one for later.

"Seriously, Francis. What's going on?"

"You tell me."

Well, that's singularly unhelpful. His cultured English accent is smooth enough to lower my heartbeat in just three words despite the irritating nature of his response. The panic flows out of me like a deflating balloon and I unconsciously step toward him. Realizing what I've done, I take a giant step back again, suddenly cautious about being too close to this man that's supposed to be dead and not standing right in front of me. Despite the uselessness of his statement, I'm compelled to answer and begin narrating recent events.

"There was an explosion…everyone's gone." I must sound the scared little girl I feel like at the moment because he moves toward me and wraps two strong arms around my shoulders. There's something strange about the embrace but I write it off to being hugged by a dead guy that once invaded my head and nearly caused me permanent brain damage.

"I doubt the damage would have been that severe, though it was a rather traumatic event for both of us."

"You are such a liar! I would have been…You asshole! I didn't say that out loud. Get the fuck out of my head!"

I scream the order as loud as I can; a parallel of events from years past. The force of my mutation makes the scream a physical thing, sending visible waves of sound out from my mouth and it's far too late by the time that I realize the impact would likely kill Xavier…again, and that's just rude.

But instead of throwing him backward, as the waves should have, they pass through him as if nothing happened at all, as if he didn't even exist. And in that moment, everything clicks into place.

"This is a hallucination, one that you're powering."

"Correct."

"Shit. Fine! Why?" I really don't have the energy to be as angry with him as I should be. Lucky for him too because my temper tantrums are epic. Just ask, well…him!

"That should be fairly obvious, my dear."

I roll my eyes and at the same time, marvel that his phrasing reminds me so much of Eric in that moment. It's quite easy to see that the two of them were once friends, close enough to pick up each other's habits and quirks. I wonder if those habits and quirks are all the two of them have left in common. It's a sad thought.

"Eric and I are still quite similar. We simply see a different path to mutant integration."

Rage bubbles through my veins, reminding me of why I hated his invasiveness so much the first time around.

"Cut the crap, hot-wheels. I've been kidnapped, beaten, threatened and starved. I'm in no mood for your cryptic baiting. Answer my questions or I'm throwing you out of my head, and I won't be as gentle as I was the last time you visited."

My threat seems to give him pause. Either that or my obvious exhaustion and complete disinterest in playing his game. Usually I'm up for a good mystery but this kind of manipulation has always been a pet-peeve of mind and I've made no effort to learn a more measured response.

"Very well, my dear. As you have already deduced. This is a hallucination. What you might not realize is that none of what you've been experiencing is real."

What?

"What?"

His enigmatic smile only serves to irritate me further and I resist the temptation to punch him.

"You're experiences over the past few days have all been a hallucination."

Something in my chest cracks at this news. Some part of me must know this already, but realizing that Remy and Wade aren't real, my strange accord with Eric and Mystique hasn't really happened, makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry.

"You have, in fact been kidnapped. But there was no one else with you. You've been taken to a discreet facility where you're currently undergoing a procedure to manipulate your alliances. Their goal is to create the memories necessary to convince you to take specific action on their behalf."

"Who is doing this to me?" My voice sounds hollow, exhausted. How could I have survived all of this only to find out that I'm actually still going through it?

"We don't know. You've reached the second phase of their procedure. The attack on the school, the one you've just experienced is what they call, introducing the enemy. Their goal is to create a desire for revenge by introducing an entity that eliminates everyone you've come to care about."

"Remy and Wade?"

"Correct."

"Fine. I get it. I'm in a brainwashing program. What do we do about it?"

"That, my dear, is entirely up to you."

I hate this. I don't know what to be angry about or who to be angry with. Xavier is right here in front of me, being completely unhelpful and he seems like as good a target as any.

"Listen, as far as I'm concerned, you're nothing more than an extremely well-dressed zombie. I don't know if you know…but you're dead. Phoenix killed you. Hate to be the one to break it to you but this also raises the point of credibility. Cuz, you know, you're a dead guy. How do I know I can believe you?"

Xavier doesn't seem to know how to respond to this. In fact, for a brief moment, his image seems to ripple and waiver.

"You must listen closely. Figure out how is in charge of this procedure and report back to me the next time I am able to break through the hallucination. They're going to wake you up soon. They've noticed a fluctuation in your brain patterns. Don't tell them that I was here."

With that final set of instructions, Xavier's image wavers again before fading away as abruptly as it appeared. Shortly after he disappears, the landscape of the school and its sprawling grounds begins to shift and lose cohesion.

So, this really is a hallucination. The question is, what will I wake up to?

My body begins to feel strange and, with all the subtlety of a Mack truck plowing through a brick wall, I am suddenly ripped from this empty world and unceremoniously expelled into a new one. One that I've never seen before. For a moment, I feel like I've been transported into a Star Trek episode. There are control panels everywhere, blinking lights and whirring sounds of various computers crunching away at data sets.

There are people moving around just out of my visual range and it's only when I try to focus on them that I realize how blurry my vision actually is.

How long have my eyes been closed?

The bright lights are sear my eyes and I feel like I've just walked out of a pitch-black cave and into the blinding desert sun. I can actually feel my pupils contract violently and the agonizing shock to my optic nerve as the light seems to literally punch me in the eye. Note to self: Baby steps next time.

Someone comes to stand next to me, perhaps to read one of the monitors and their complete lack of interest in the fact that I'm awake makes my skin crawl. Was Xavier right? Is this my new cage? Or is this the only cage I've actually been in the whole time.

Since no one seems to me interested in me, I take a moment to consider the previous days' events. If Xavier's real (and alive) and I was actually kidnapped, then my memories of that event are likely accurate. However, from that point on, everything else could be called into question. Perhaps I never woke up in the Trouble Truck. It would actually make more sense that they would have kept a dangerous mutant unconscious throughout transport to decrease the possibility that I might resist.

That would make Eric and Mystique a ruse to through me off track and perhaps get me to say something in confidence that I wouldn't normally say to my captors. From there, Wade would have been introduced as an emotional link, playing on my natural compulsion to help and Remy would have represented my link to the outside world and my hope for rescue.

Their personalities would be entirely flexible since I'd never met any of them before. But…shouldn't I have been able to sense the lie? That's kind of like…a thing of mine. I should have been able to tell they were lying…unless I made them? What if my subconscious mind created the content of the conversations and these guys just gave me the "blank shells" to play with.

This sucks!

Just as I'm about to really start bitching at myself, a "nurse" makes his way over to me, making eye-contact and generally scaring the crap out of me. I stare at him with growing trepidation as he makes his way over to me. But, as he takes the final steps to the side of my bed, his facial expressions begin to change.

"Code Black! Code Black! It's awake!" He screams and the room erupts into a flurry of motion, blaring sirens and flashing lights.

What the hell?

It?

Xavier's story is looking more and more plausible. I don't know of any real doctors that call their patients "it." I'm saved from any defensive movement when everyone in the area literally runs for the doors. As the final person makes their way out, shoes squeaking on the floor as they slide across the generic linoleum I can't help but be flattered by the precaution.

How badass do they think I am?

More than I do, apparently. Sitting up is my next goal but my mission is quickly aborted when I feel the tight restraints around my wrists, ankles and chest. Wow. Talk about overkill. However, they clearly know what I am and what I'm capable of, even if I think they're being a bit generous, so there's really no reason for me to hide any more.

My life as I know it is forever changed. My secret is out; there's no going back. Might as well flex my proverbial wings…because I don't' think I have real ones. Focusing down on the buckle above my chest, I begin to imagine what that metal might sound like if it was rung like a bell. The frequency of the sound comes to my mind and I manipulate the sound until I'm sure I've got what I need.

Closing my eyes and focusing on the sound is always the easiest part. Trying to control the damage the sound wave is going to make is much harder. I have to make sure I don't overdo it and break something in my chest as I dismantle the metal of the buckle. That would be…unhelpful. The sound begins in my mind and emanates out from that point, filling my ears with its pure tone. It builds and builds as I imagine the waves enveloping the buckle and the metal begins to vibrate. Faster and faster it goes and then, like a crystal goblet, the buckle shatters, allowing the straps to fall uselessly to my sides.

The buckles on my wrists and ankles receive the same treatment and in short order, I'm free…well, at least free from this bed. Taking stock of my appearance, I realize I'm in a hospital gown and I try very hard not to think about who changed my clothes. However, my quest for denial is shattered when I realize that I've got a catheter; one that will have to be removed if I've got any hope of escaping.

The process is painful and it's only my determination that forces me through the task. Clearly, the planned on keeping me unconscious for quite some time. As toss away the offending tube I'm struck by an eerie sight.

My wrist.

There are sores and abraded skin all over the surface. I must have been resisting, even while unconscious, but it's not the state of my skin that disturbs me. There's barely any meat left on my wrist or my arm. I look emaciated, pale and sickly.

How much weight have I lost?

How long have I been here?

A quick and terrified evaluation of my legs reveals the same status. I've lost almost all of my muscle mass. My skin is taught around the bones, pale and nearly transparent. Needle tracks cover most of my forearms and when my eyes settle on my current IV, I am filled with a horrible, dark rage.

How fucking dare they!

My fingers shake as I peel away the medical tape. It pulls painfully at my paper-thin skin and I wonder if the skin will tear before the adhesive gives way. Finally, the tape surrenders its hold on me and I quickly but carefully remove the needle from my arm. No sense in bleed out during my miraculous escape because of a torn vein. Besides, I'm pretty sure any blood loss in my state would be the end of the road for me.

Unbidden, the image of Remy and Wade pop into my mind and my breath is forced out of my chest by sudden and overwhelming despair.

No one is coming for you. No one is going to rescue you.

Tears spill down my cheeks and my breath hitches. I'm preparing for a full-blown meltdown when a quiet but determined voice comes to my mind.

You have a choice to make, little girl. Lay down and accept your fate…or fight like the devil they think you are.

Looking around once more through tear-distorted vision. I see my fate if I choose to surrender: lab rat. That rage begins to bubble within me once more. The same rage that had left me moments before when I saw the IV in my arm.

Fine, I think. You want a devil. I'll show you a fucking demon.

Drawing on the sounds around me, I convert the waves into energy and let it infuse my body (I didn't even know I could do that!) But, you know what they say: "Desperation is the breeding ground of invention." It takes me a moment to realize that the room has begun to shake with the intensity of my rage.

What a sight I must make; eyes, sunken in, body quaking with the effort to hold me upright as I hobble to the door. I bet my hair looks horrible. Ugh.

The door screeches and screams as I covert my sound into a usable form. With all the force of a sonic boom, the door finally gives way and is propelled away from me and into what appears to be a deserted hallway. Logically, I'll meet resistance somewhere. It wouldn't make sense for them to simply let me escape. My best shot is to save my energy, or what's left of it, for the coming battle and hope it's enough to get me out.

The question of where I'll go from here is too painful to contemplate. I've got nowhere to go. My self-imposed isolation from the mutant community has ensured that I have no allies in this dark hour. Ignoring the question is a matter of self-preservation at this point so I shove it aside in my mind and make my way down the corridor, leaning heavily on the unadorned walls.