Memories
Black Water
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If you want to use Tora, or any of my other characters, PM me.
She jerked awake on the train. This was a bit of a jump. She looked down and did a few quick guesses based on her clothes.
Late 1800s? Why?
You are Miss Marie Douglas, a governess from Montreal who has been hired by a rich and influential family to teach their only son, a young boy of five. He is sickly and cannot be sent to boarding school because of that.
Why does this matter?
Because the boy's name is James Howlett.
Tora stiffened.
You manipulative piece of filth!
It is required.
It bloody well isn't!
You cannot back out. After all, you swore you would complete my tasks. This is one of them.
Tora snarled and threw up barriers, forcing Dragon away then folded her arms and glared out the window. Could the stupid reptile do any colour scheme other than blue, silver and grey? She was getting bored of the same old shades.
And then she looked out of the window, across the wilds of Canada, something she couldn't quite give a name to leaping in her chest.
Phoenix closed her eyes.
"That's just cruel."
The masked woman glanced over.
"You think so? Imagine how she felt, every single day for those years."
Logan and Curt stood in silence at the docks. Curt was staring up at the sleek-looking ship.
"Isn't this the Thetis?"
Logan nodded.
Curt picked up his bags and promptly turned around. Logan caught his arm. Curt glared.
"You aren't sending me on the boat that rich folk send their wayward kids on as punishment! I couldn't stand that! They'll all be stuck-up rich kids who've been send there because they threw a wild party and wrecked the house; or got caught doing soft drugs; or drunk themselves into a stupor; or something!"
Logan sighed.
"Look… I didn't think of this place. Stark suggested it to me. And it will work out if you give it the chance."
Curt folded his arms.
"They don't allow any form of communication with the outside world. How am I supposed to stay calm when I don't know whether you've been killed or something while I'm stuck in the middle of the Pacific?"
Logan folded his arms.
"Ray will keep you updated telepathically."
"And what about Jubes? She's moving back to Westchester and I was hoping to get to spend some time with her before getting shoved off."
"This is the last sailing this year. It was now or never."
Curt slumped.
"I'm just worried. Jubes has been under the weather ever since Maman died. I…I think her protection is failing."
Logan stiffened and cursed.
"She's arriving at midday! Curt, I need to get Hank on it immediately!"
Curt shook his head.
"She'll be safe for a while. I gave her a necklace for her birthday. It was one of those vampire amulets. She'll be safe from the sun unless she's taken it off."
"Will she?"
"She told me she slept with it, so I hope…"
Logan paused then touched Curt's shoulder.
"I… I'll miss you."
Curt shrugged.
"I'll see you."
He prepared to tramp onto the gangway with the air of a man walking to the gallows when Logan impulsively hugged him. They broke apart, both looking very awkward. Curt was blushing slightly.
"Dad…"
"Yeah?"
"Tell… Tell Jamie and Evie I love them. Tell Evie to ignore what anyone tells her about what little girls should or should not do or say and tell Jamie that he shouldn't turn into too big a swot while I'm away. And Dad… I… Ah, it doesn't matter."
And he slowly walked away, leaving Logan feeling as if he should have said something. He then glanced to both sides and shuddered. Other families were arriving and they all looked the same. Distant and remote parents; grumpy and rebellious kids. Logan considered and then called Curt back. The look on his son's face was slightly nervous and also a little hopeful. Logan clasped Curt's hand and smiled warmly for the first time in ages.
"Look… If they're really all stuck-up pompous… You know… Get in touch and we'll pull you out."
Curt grinned and this time he was the one to give his dad a quick one-armed hug.
"And because Maman isn't here to tell you, I'll do this myself. No drinking, no staying out late, restart smoking and you're dead, Evie's bedtime is six thirty on a weekday and quarter-to-eight at weekends. You aren't to let her stay up late, no matter what she says. She can watch PGs, but if you let her watch anything higher, I'll have your guts for breakfast… And what's the last thing she always said…?"
Their eyes met and then in perfect unison they chanted,
"And if something goes wrong, for Pete's sake, call me!"
They grinned with fond remembrance at the worried mother lecture and then Logan's eyes veiled over.
"You stay safe, okay? I can't come swimming after you."
"Fine. But don't set Namor or an Atlantian after me. I'll be fine."
His mismatched eyes dropped.
"And Dad… Take care, okay?"
And then he was gone, walking away, unaware of the looks of jealousy on the faces of the kids behind him. While his clothes weren't designer, being a basic orange-and-black t-shirt and tan shorts; his bags were small and lightly packed and he gave off an air of scruffiness; he had something none of them had.
He had a parent who cared.
"He seems almost… stable."
"Grief hid his insanity. While he was grieving for his mother, he became introverted and pensive. The symbiote grieved with him."
The man had a broad smile on his face as he walked towards her and something in Tora immediately liked him.
"You must be Miss Douglas."
She dipped her head in greeting.
"Hello, Mr Howlett."
"I knew your father. A good man. Good man."
She smiled but something took a slightly fixed quality.
What on earth do you mean by that?
I created this body in vitro. It was merely a matter of when you needed to use it.
You forced out a sentient being!
No. I expended minimum energy creating a facsimile mind, a replica of your personality. Nothing much.
So. Parents.
Father a Scottish merchant's son. Mother from a French immigrant. Father disowned for marrying mother. Mother died in childbirth, Father left to try and make money. Returned yearly to see you while you stayed at your maternal grandparents. He was killed at sea when you were nine, at which point his parents relented and took you in. There were…difficulties.
"Miss Douglas, are you well?"
She shook her head swiftly.
"I apologise. I was lost in thought."
"You look like your mother. I met her once. Except your eyes. Your father had those eyes."
She allowed herself a small smile as suddenly memories rushed into her mind.
"I remember him very well. He was a good father."
"And now I suppose I should introduce you to your student?"
"Yes. James. Is there…?"
"He is very sickly. He must not be allowed to exert himself too much or spend to long outside. After John… If anything were to happen to him…"
Tora remembered that from Logan. A dead brother who still haunted the house on the hill. A mad mother. And a caring father separated from him by the culture of the time.
"May I be introduced to him?"
"I'll call him. James!"
The boy walked into the room and Tora couldn't contain the sudden intake of breath. The boy looking at her could almost be Jamie. He could almost be her son! Then she saw his eyes and relaxed a little. They were the exact same piercing blue as Logan's but they weren't his eyes. Not yet, at any rate.
"Hello, James. My name is Miss Douglas."
He looked at her with polite interest.
"Hello, Miss Douglas."
Except his lisp meant he pronounced her name 'Douglath'. It was all she could do to prevent herself giggling. He looked so earnest so she decided to play along.
"I was just wondering if some chivalrous soul would show me the house."
He grinned suddenly, his whole face lighting up as he slid his small hand into hers.
"I'll show you! I know ewerywhere in the house!"
She glanced over to John Howlett who had the slightest of smiles on his face. And then she let the boy who would one day be her husband tug her out of the room with childish excitement.
Phoenix cooed.
"He was so cute!"
The masked woman snorted.
"I doubt you would call Logan that to his face."
"Well…no, but… He's so cute!"
Logan stopped outside the room. He looked at the big A3 sign on the door, big sloppy letters declearing "CURT'S ROOM! TRESPASSERS WILL BE WEBBED, THEN STABBED THEN SHOT." And then added underneath.
"Survivors will be stabbed again. And again. And again. And again…"
That went on for the rest of the sheet of paper. Logan rested his hand on the door and paused. Maybe he shouldn't. But fear made him open the door.
The room was hung with thick black webs. Instead of a bed, a hammock of webbing hung by the window. Pictures and posters were stuck on the walls slapdash, held in place by more webbing. The lightshade was thick with it, so when Logan flicked the switch, the light that filtered through was heavily shaded and threw curious shadows across the walls and webs. Logan turned, looking for something, anything that might suggest that Curt had been doing something stupid. There didn't seem to be anything. And then, as he turned, his foot caught on a little piece of glass. Looking down, he saw shards across the floor. Then he saw the photo frame that had been flung against the wall. It hung in the webbing, twisted out of shape.
When he turned it over, he felt his heart skip a beat. The photo of Tora and Curt taken shortly after they had found him again, both grinning broadly. Yet scrawled in angry red letters, right across Curt's own face, was the word 'FILTH'.
Logan carefully placed the photo back and slowly left the room, locking the door behind him. Then he quietly considered the intelligence of quickly transferring Curt back to Westchester.
"He really felt too much guilt about this."
The masked woman shrugged.
"The last thing he ever said to his mother was he hated her. How do you think he reacted to that?"