Logan's room
After both lovers have had their third mutual orgasm...and it still isn't Sunday yet
"Raped, huh?" Logan later asked, gently...or at least as gently as he was capable of.
"Yeah. And yeah, it is still a big deal, but it's all in how you look at it." She barely smiled. "I guess it helps you to understand your feelings if you've had training in psychology - which I had even then."
"Who counsels the counsellor?"
"Oh, counsellors have counsellors, Logan. Every so often we need it, to make sure we're not losin' it. Counsellors are no more immune to mental problems or trauma than anyone else, and listening to folks' troubles every day, no matter how dedicated you are or how much you love what you do...well, eventually it gets to you."
"Got it," he nodded. "So what'd he get? The rapist?"
"Oh, he got fifteen to twenty...except he never served it."
"Time off for good behaviour?" Logan supposed sourly.
"No," she told him quietly, "another inmate stuck him in the balls with a shiv. He bled to death. I heard he was screaming right to the end." Alison paused. "Legal age of consent in my home state of California is 18...and I was only 17. Even criminals have standards, and to them I was still a kid, so this creep was a child rapist." She smiled savagely. "As I said, I found out where they buried him and I pissed on his grave." Then she sobered. "But I'd never blame all men for what one man did to me; hell, I didn't even let it put me off rough sex.
"I don't blame porn or explicit movies; that's the most pathetic excuse for rape I've ever heard, and anyway I like porn. If that whole thing about a causal link between porn and rape was accurate, there'd be a lot more rapes than there are, 'cause porn's everywhere now, and it doesn't explain why women are getting on the other side of the camera these days - filming porn 'stead of appearing in it."
"Mmm," Logan said, non-committal. She was right that porn was everywhere these days, but he had no special opinion one way or the other. It had its place, he supposed.
Then she curiously asked, "Logan, who's Jean?" The claws came out, but she could tell it was by reflex. "Please, I...I didn't pry. But my abilities include empathy, so Charles told me, and sometimes I pick up on stuff without meaning to - especially if it's recent, traumatic or both."
Alison's pleading expression and her scent convinced him she was telling the truth, and so he sheathed the claws. He sighed. "Her name was Jean Grey. Never knew a woman like her. She wasn't...mine...I mean..."
"...she wasn't your girlfriend, I understand," Alison assured him. "Please, go on."
"We were friends. Well, she knew I wanted more, but...she loved a guy called Scott, another student of Charles'. She made her choice. Way it goes."
"You respected her," she understood, "you respected her choice and didn't try to muscle in. So...what happened?"
His next words stunned her:
"I killed her," he murmured. "I had to."
He explained at length; her heart ached for him. He'd proved his love in a way few men had ever had to, by doing as Jean had begged. He'd done what he'd always done:
Whatever had to be done.
This was nothing she could possibly help with, she knew. He'd acted out of simple necessity; if he hadn't killed her, it would've fallen to one of the other X-Men...before the Phoenix could tear the world apart. He couldn't be comforted or counselled, not for this.
But that didn't mean he had to bear it alone.
"I'm here, Logan. I want you to know that. I'm here." She stroked his cheek.
He smiled. "Yeah, I know. If I need to talk."
"I know you don't," she barely smiled, "but I'm here anyway."
"'sides, it ain't as bad as it sounds, according to Charles," he smiled again, "in a way, she isn't really dead."
"Not as long as you remember her, of course - oh, but that's not what you mean, is it...?" she interrupted herself. "So what do you mean?"
Again, he explained:
Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters
A number of hours after the coda in The Wolverine
"Would you like something to eat, Logan?" Xavier (if he was, though surely it was impossible!) inquired. Then he cocked his head to one side and smiled. "Of course you'd like an answer to the only question of any relevance: 'how is this man here when I saw him die?' Well, it's a long and fascinating story best told over a good meal, I think."
"Yeah, okay," Logan numbly agreed, reflecting that it had been a while since he'd eaten.
"Splendid," Xavier (?) applauded.
"Well, let us begin," Xavier said, sipping his Earl Grey. "You saw Jean - or more accurately, the Phoenix - tear me apart at the atomic level with her telekinesis."
"Not somethin' I ever wanna see again," Logan murmured, finishing a slice of toast. He idly wondered where the hell Magneto had gotten to.
"Oh, he's around, probably tracking our...problem...using Cerebro," Xavier noted. "I assure you we will return to that. Anyway: just before my consciousness could dissipate as the inevitable consequence of my body's abrupt death, for a moment - for a critically important moment - Jean briefly regained control and was horrified by what the Phoenix had done.
"She took immediate action to make it right...though what she did," he frowned, "is very hard to describe, being outside the realm of human knowledge or experience. The best way I can describe it is that she gathered my...essence, if you will, everything that makes me truly me - mind, consciousness, memories - and she cocooned it in a protective shell of pure mental energy, and then hid it away in the only safe place."
"Where?"
"Within Jean's own mind," Xavier answered simply, soberly. "It was my only chance of survival. She buried me so deep the Phoenix was totally unaware of my presence. This, however, could only be a temporary measure; a human mind, we both came to understand, cannot survive long without a body. The reverse, however, is not true," he went on in a lighter tone, "which is where my twin brother enters the story."
"Didn't know you had one," Logan shook his head.
"Nor did anyone else," Xavier confided, "except Erik...and Jean. But his story is a tragic one, Logan. You see...he was born with no brain function at all, not the slightest shred of thought or consciousness. Physically he was sound, and there was in fact nothing wrong physically with his brain, but..."
"Lights on but no-one home," Logan comprehended. "Rough deal."
"Indeed," Xavier nodded sadly. "He had remained in that state for decades under the care of a colleague, Dr. Moira McTaggert, growing and developing perfectly normally in every respect except the most important. He was a body without a mind..."
The last piece of the puzzle wasn't hard to fit. "...an' you were a mind without a body. So she put you in his brain."
"I have absolutely no idea how she could accomplish this," Xavier admitted, "but then again I suppose for a mutant with her virtually limitless powers it might have been child's play."
A thought occurred to Logan. "Charles, are you sure that -"
"A perfectly legitimate question, and quite right you should ask, Logan," Xavier nodded in respect, "but I swear to you by everything I hold dear: both Jean and I scanned my twin thoroughly before the transfer took place, and there was nothing, nothing in the brain that might represent even a trace of personality. We were both equally concerned about the ethics of such an act." He looked bitter. "Which might sound hypocritical given what I did to Jean all those years ago, even if it was intended purely to help her - and to this day I still believe it did."
"I've had time to think about that," Logan told him quietly. "An' I think...hell, I wasn't there, I dunno what might have helped her, an' who am I to argue this stuff anyway?"
"I too have thought about it, and I do believe I should have found a better answer - or at the very least sought Jean's permission." He smiled sadly. "You were quite right; I should have given her a choice. But I am at a loss to know what else I could have done, Logan," Xavier appealed, "you have no idea of the awesome power, the sheer potential I saw in Jean's mind from the moment Erik and I met her. She instantly read Erik's and even my mind immediately - despite our mental shields.
"Consider that she was just a child, just twelve years of age, with little or no understanding of what was happening to her, and we were experienced adults, fully aware of our powers and capabilities...and of hers, or at least what little we understood of them at that time."
"Yeah, I see your point," Logan readily conceded, "if she could read your mind without your say-so, then yeah, she had to be da bomb."
"Quite," Xavier answered ironically. "My intention was to gradually loosen those barriers as Jean matured and her control increased, and at some point I would have told her about them...but then came Liberty Island, and everything changed." He looked sombre. "I suspect, and Erik concurs, that the mutagenic radiation catalysed her power and accelerated the pace of her development."
"Maybe she figured it out, took down the barriers herself," Logan suggested. "She was smart."
"Quite possibly," Xavier nodded. "Which brings me to another point: how to deal with the terrible guilt you still feel for doing what was necessary."
It was one of the very few times in Logan's life when he couldn't bring himself to meet another man's eyes. As it all came flooding back as unstoppable as the waters of the Alkali Lake dam when it breached, he brokenly choked out, "Charles...she was killin' people...I had to stop her..."
"And you were the only one who could, the only one who would even dare to try," Xavier said softly, with gentle understanding. "You did what had to be done, as you always have - what she actually asked, even begged, you to do. You truly loved her, and proved it beyond question...by giving her up, not once but twice - the first time to Scott, when you accepted her choice."
"There was no other way," Logan whispered. "We both knew it."
"Indeed, there was no other way," Xavier answered, surprising him. "But in fact things are not as simple as that, my friend. You see...you did much more than simply kill her. In a very real sense you did nothing of the kind - for Jean is not, in fact, dead as we define the term."
Logan's head snapped up. "Say what?!"
Xavier chuckled. "Logan, what actually happened was nowhere near as simple as that! Remember that, as I told you, I was still hidden away inside Jean's mind, yet I could perceive what was occurring around us. But when you struck, it was as if every chain, every weight, every barrier," he noted ironically, "simply fell away - and suddenly she was free! It was a glorious moment which, unfortunately, I was privileged to experience for only a second or so - after which my transfer into my new body took place. I cannot describe what I saw, what I perceived, for the words simply do not exist in any human language," he breathed.
"So what happened to her?" Logan insisted.
But Xavier could only shake his head. "I confess I am not entirely certain. I believe, however, she evolved - beyond this state of reality, beyond anything we might even pretend ever to understand. I cannot even speculate as to what, or indeed where, she is now. But there is one thing of which I am certain: she is NOT dead, Logan!"
He reached out to grasp Logan's arm in a gesture of one comrade to another. "So you can let go of the guilt, my friend, for there is nothing about which to feel guilty. You did not truly kill her, you saved her - and even helped her." He cleared his throat. "In fact, she left a message for you in my mind - and again, I have no idea as to how," he amusedly admitted.
"A message?" Logan repeated eagerly. "What?"
"Well, therein lies the mystery, because I cannot read it," Xavier confessed ruefully, "not that I've tried, for she made it quite clear it was a private message for you alone, but she did it in such a way that I cannot even access it. I know absolutely nothing about it other than its existence and the fact that it is addressed to you."
"So how do I read it?"
"From what she told me, I have only to establish a mental link between us and the message itself will, I gather, do the rest," Xavier frowned.
Logan shrugged, though the gesture wasn't as matter-of-fact as he made it look - as if Charles didn't know perfectly well, even without his telepathy, how excited Logan was about the prospect of a message from Jean of all people. "Okay, go for it."
Xavier reached out and touched Logan's forehead. The link will be instantaneous, he said mentally. Ah. Here we go...
There appeared to be a flash, and abruptly Logan was alone.
He seemed to be in what he was pretty sure was a Japanese rock garden; the sun was sending the first gentle rays of the dawn inside. A water feature bubbled gently, trickling into a pool where there were colourful koi carp. Soft music, distinctly Japanese in nature, was playing. It all looked and felt very peaceful. Grass was underfoot. A deer fawn wandered in, nibbled a few shoots of grass, and looked at him.
He knew from the scent that the fawn was female - and, from her body language, that she trusted him completely. He reached out to stroke her, and dammit, she even felt real - warm and alive. Unhurriedly she wandered out, to meet her mother outside. She was a beautiful doe.
There was something about Japanese culture, something peaceful, that had always appealed to Logan. Though he knew the history of Japan had been anything but peaceful, what with wars with the Chinese and the British, samurai, ninjas and the like, still there were always retreats like this one. If he'd ever felt at home anywhere, it was in a place like this. He trailed his fingers in the water feature, touching its rocky surface.
In the middle of the room, a light hovered in the air. It expanded, and briefly looked like a magnificent fiery bird.
Or a phoenix.
This shape coalesced into something more familiar. A woman's shapely figure. A very familiar one.
The light faded, and then she was standing before him, as beautiful as ever, dressed in a casual style.
"Hi, Logan," she greeted him warmly.
"Jean...!"
"Yes, it's me," Jean Grey smiled, and kissed him. "Welcome."
"How...? Are you...real?"
"Define 'real'," she returned impishly. "From one point of view I'm a ghost, a memory and nothing more. From another...I'm the realest person you'll ever meet. Think of me as...an echo of the woman you knew as Jean Grey. But I'm much more than that now. More than Jean, more even than the Phoenix." Her smile was warmer than a supernova. "And I wouldn't have been anything of what I am now...without you. I owe you so very much, Logan."
"I...I don't understand..."
"Of course not, I haven't explained yet," Jean quipped, and he could see the mischievous glint in her eye, the one that'd first sparked his interest in her beyond her gorgeous red tresses or her fashion model looks, to say nothin' of that killer figure. "When I was twelve, Charles made a mistake, with the very best of intentions. He created psychic barriers in my mind, to cut back my power to a level I could handle."
"Yeah, he told me." Logan scowled. "He should've asked you first."
"Maybe," she conceded. "He intended to gradually loosen those barriers as I matured and my control increased...but then I was exposed to Magneto's radiation at Liberty Island, and that knocked everything into a cocked hat. My powers started developing faster...too fast. They reached a sort of peak when I lifted the X-Jet and held back the water just long enough for you to get clear. Then I cocooned myself...but while I was out cold, the Phoenix gained a hold in my mind." She paused. "You remember what happened then."
He nodded grimly.
"But in fact," she said gently, "putting those barriers in place wasn't the mistake; that was actually the right thing to do, it did help me. But he misunderstood the true nature of the problem."
"What was that?"
"The fact that my mind was too powerful, too advanced, too...big, for want of a better word, to be contained in a merely human body and brain. Yet it was bound to that brain...I'd become a prisoner in my own body. In a way, I was claustrophobic; it was that irrational fear which held me back and interfered with my control. But I was trapped."
"And...and I...freed you...!" he understood, with a feeling of awe.
"Yes!" she cried, and hugged him. "When I pleaded 'save me', that was Jean talking, not the Phoenix - but I didn't mean 'save me from myself', I meant 'save me from my prison'! And you did, Logan! By killing my body, you released my mind from its shackles, and I was free! Free to expand, to grow, to become everything I could be...!"
"So...what are you now?" he wondered after a moment.
"That, Logan, is a really good question," the impishness returned. "Seriously, though, I'm not totally sure; I'm still learning what I can do, and the process of psychic expansion hasn't quite finished yet. I'm still exploring. I'm not a goddess, but I think I've come as close to it as any formerly corporeal being could. Certainly there isn't anything I can't do that isn't forbidden by the laws of physics...and who knows, in time I might even be able to tinker with those," she grinned. "Don't worry, I'll be really careful."
"But...you are alive...you are the Jean Grey I knew?"
"And loved, I know," she kissed him warmly again. "I knew even when I was 'only' human. I know it even better now. You respected my choice, and I loved you for that. I couldn't be what you wanted, but there was a part of me that wanted to. The primal side of my nature, the Jane to your Tarzan," she chuckled, and then sobered as she finished, "The part of me that reminded you of yourself. That part more than any other appealed to you."
"But I knew that wasn't you," he returned, "and I never wanted you to be anythin' you weren't, Jean."
"I knew that," she smiled. "You loved me as I was, flaws and all."
"I still do." Of all the things he was sure of, he was most certain of that.
"I know that, too." Jean sighed. "Which is why I'm going to share something with you, Logan. Despite appearances, you're not immortal. There will, one day, be an end, I promise. I won't say when, except that it won't be anytime soon, or how...but you will know peace. The peace of death." She looked wry. "Whatever that means. But I swear you won't be forever, Logan. It'll come at the right time, and it'll be as heroic as you can manage, but," she smiled gently, "in the end you will die, find rest. But it'll be selfless and worthwhile, not sad."
"You can see the - the future?" he breathed.
Jean shrugged. "Time is just one dimension, much like any other, Logan. It's not hard, if you know how. That's as good a way of putting it as any other, I suppose, in your terms. So stop acting as if you can't die," she quipped now, "because you can. It's not easy, but it's certainly possible, just about. You've always found dying to be hard, but I'm asking you to live, instead. It's much harder, even for you, but it's worth it. Please live, Logan. For me. Please."
Logan kissed her. "Anythin' for you, darlin'."
"That's the spirit," Jean chuckled, and stroked his cheek. "All my love to everyone, especially Charles. Bye for now."
"Hey - will I see you again?"
She smiled impishly. "Sure you will. Whenever you think of me, I'll be there. But I know what you mean." Her smile turned warm. "And yes, we will see each other again one day. That's a promise, too. Take care, Logan."
There was a burst of light, and suddenly Logan was back in the study with Charles. Xavier reached out, for reassurance this time.
"Are you alright, Logan?"
Logan responded slowly, smiling as he realised the truth. "Yeah. I think...for the first time in years, I...I am alright."
"Though I am naturally curious, I shall not presume to ask what transpired," Xavier told him. "But I imagine you are reassured."
"Yeah," Logan nodded. "She's okay. I'm okay. She, uh, sends her love."
Xavier smiled gently. "Of course, she would. Thank you, Logan."
For perhaps the first time, Logan felt he and Charles really were friends. He smiled, a genuine smile for once. "Thank you, Charles." He stretched. "Think I'm gonna stick around for a while. There's things I can teach your X-Men. Self-defence, tactics, survival in the wild, that kinda thing."
"Indeed," Xavier approved. "In that case, Professor Logan, welcome to the faculty."
Logan winced. "Just don't call me that, alright?"
The older/younger man chuckled. "As you wish. Provided," he added, "that you do not call me ‛Chuck' or ‛Charlie'."
The Wolverine chuckled in his turn. "Do my best not to. Charlie," he joked.
Xavier sighed, but almost in amusement. "A promise already broken. Hardly a good sign."
"Oh, I dunno," Logan opined, "shows I'm consistent."
"Given your nature, I am uncertain as to whether or not that is a good thing," Xavier quipped in his turn. The two shared a chuckle.
Xavier's study
A little later
As they were indulging in a snack, Magneto joined them. "It's good that you're eating," Erik observed, "you shall need all your reserves for what is to come."
Logan looked at Xavier. "What's that mean?"
"We have the means to replace your adamantium claws, Logan," Xavier replied solemnly. "I do not pretend it will be painless."
But Logan shrugged. "I sorta remember gettin' the adamantium in the first place. I survived that, I'll survive this."
Erik nodded. "To the lab, then."
The lab
Logan extended his bone claws. "Gonna do 'em one hand at a time?"
Xavier sighed. "It would be simpler, especially for Erik; lacking any nanite technology, he shall direct magnetic fields to manipulate the molten metal. But it would be better, I think, to get the pain over with in one go."
Erik noted, "I will require very fine control, Charles. This will not be easy." He glanced at Wolverine. "For either of us."
Logan breathed deeply and exhaled. "If the Sentinels are comin', bone claws ain't gonna make it. Do it."
"I shall be with you," Xavier said softly, "I may be able to dull your perception of the pain."
"Okay," Logan nodded. "What do I do?"
"Place your hands in the receptacle," Erik directed, "and I shall use my power to mould the claws as the adamantium settles around them."
Logan did as Erik said, resting his fists in an adamantium tray. Immediately the molten metal was applied, he roared in pain, and Xavier winced. Magneto affected a look of concentration, moving his hands just so in order to direct his thoughts - and thus his power. The metal rippled around the claws, reaching and covering the bare stubs, which partly melted.
Logan gasped with the agony, but somehow held his place. With a ferocious frown Erik raised a fist and turned it to one side. The excess adamantium drained away and the metal which was left cooled rapidly. Logan was breathing hard through his nose.
Finally it was over. Erik sighed. "There. It is done."
Xavier inquired, "Logan, are you alright?"
"As...alright...as I ever am," Logan rasped. "Christ, that was nearly as bad." He lifted a hand and retracted the claws. With a snakt they vanished as smoothly as they ever had. He popped them again with a snikt, and again they functioned as smoothly as ever. Xavier examined them with a scanner, going down to atomic level.
The blades showed as lethally sharp as ever, with a monomolecular but non-fragile edge. Logan nodded and turned to a practice dummy someone had brought in. A single slash decapitated it.
Logan actually smiled at Magneto. "Nice job. Thanks." The claws retracted. "Let's see how they do against the Sentinels."
Erik sobered. "I have attempted to track them and Trask, but it would appear he has developed shielding. Unfortunately I have no idea at present where he is or how far he has progressed. You might have better luck, Charles," he suggested, "you have greater mental abilities and much more practice."
Xavier shook his head. "It would doubtless be a futile effort; telepathic shielding would be a logical development. He had years to consider it whilst languishing in jail."
"Yeah, how the hell is he out?" Logan wondered. "Last I heard, they'd found him guilty of sellin' secrets to foreign powers. The U.S. Government is pretty gung-ho when it comes to spyin' of any sort." He scowled. "Maybe he bought his way out. Wouldn't put it past 'im."
"Emma Frost, who has reformed following the nightmare of Genosha, is looking into that," Xavier told him. "She has contacts, but it will necessarily take time."
"An' meanwhile that SOB is gonna be workin' on the Sentinels," Logan growled.
"True. However, we have a mole of sorts in his organisation: a student of mine, Sarah Nesbit, has an older sister, Ellie - who is currently working for Trask. If she can overcome her aversion to falsehoods, she may prove valuable to us."
"Until Trask finds out about Sarah," Logan pointed out.
"Mmm, there is that," Xavier conceded.
"Wow," Alison breathed. "That is amazing. Some people have said that mutants are the next evolutionary step. Maybe they're right."
"Or maybe mutation is, what'd that guy Worthington call it, a ‛corruption of healthy cellular activity'," Logan said sourly.
But Alison shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I studied genetics as part of my PhD. Mutants can breed with other mutants, can't they?"
Logan shrugged. "Far as I know, yeah."
"And they're healthy every other way," she observed. Her eyes twinkled. "Some appear to be very healthy. The Professor, for example - his psychosomatic spinal injury notwithstanding. Me." She stroked his hair. "You, definitely. That shows the mutant trait breeds true, which implies in turn that it's more than just a trait. Why now, though? Why are so many mutants showing up now?"
"Hank - Henry McCoy - had an idea 'bout that," Logan recalled. "He thought it might be due to A-bombs, an' all the tests that were done before they found out about fallout an' banned 'em."
"Could be," she agreed thoughtfully. "Radioactivity is one of several things which triggers mutation - mainly in the sex cells, which are the basis for the next generation. So an affected couple might not be mutants, but their children will be. Which doesn't explain you," she added. "You're from, what, the 19th Century? Long before radioactivity was discovered?"
Logan thought about it, recalling his long-ago youth, when he'd accidentally killed the man who was his natural father, and ran away from home and from persecution with his half-brother Victor Creed, a.k.a. Sabertooth. 19th Century? Yeah, sounded about right. "I think so, yeah."
"Hmm. Maybe there were only a few mutants at first, scattered throughout history," she speculated. "Their numbers increased slowly, because often mutation is a survival trait. Your mutation, for example, is very pro-survival. A long life and regenerative capability allows you to stay fertile for longer and thus, potentially, sire more children."
"How's that survival for me?" he asked curiously.
"Oh, it's not," she replied casually. "I was talking about species survival, not individual. To give you an example, sometimes a mother cat will eat her kittens - that's contra-survival behaviour because her offspring die and therefore can't perpetuate the species, however long she lives. But another might die defending her kittens - that's pro-survival, because they can procreate. Animals which never have offspring are contra-survival; ones which do are pro-survival, the more the merrier. That's just as true for humans, mutant or not."
"Oh, right," he nodded. "I once fought a woman who had the same healing ability as me," he mused, recalling Lady Deathstrike at the Alkali Lake dam. "I dunno if she had any kids."
"You fought her...did you kill her?"
He remembered too well; from his earliest youth he'd hated killing women, even those who'd tried to kill him. She'd jerked in agony as he thrust the nozzle into her side, injecting her with pure adamantium. Unlike his case it wasn't targeted or directed, just filling her body - including her lungs. Once it cooled and set, she'd never be able to breathe.
"Tried," he admitted. "She should be dead after what I did to her, but...I dunno. Maybe she made it."
Tactfully she didn't press him. Instead she moved to straddle him. "Enough talk," she purred. "Time for a little action."
Logan grinned lustfully. "Works for me."
Those were the last words spoken that night.
Very little was said by either the next day. Alison did shower, but only because she reeked of sex and sweat. In truth she enjoyed her own scent and derived sheer animal pleasure from it, but she didn't want to distract the staff...or the students. Whilst showering she debated shaving her armpits for once out of respect, but decided not to because:
a) she liked the way they felt and smelled when she didn't;
b) she preferred the natural look they gave her (armpit shaving was a relatively new habit she'd never really agreed with - if women were meant to have hairless armpits, then evolution itself would've caused them to be hairless, by its usual ‛use it or lose it' logic, the same logic which did for Jacobson's organ in everyone except Logan);
c) no-one expected men to shave their hairy armpits (some men did, but being a sensualist, she was repulsed by guys who shaved - it just wasn't right, she felt), and she subscribed wholeheartedly to the notion of sexual equality (very few men ever shaved their genitals either in her experience, though Abby Lee had recommended it in Girl With A One-Track Mind - now there was a randy bitch in Abby Lee, a.k.a. Zoe Margolis!);
d) Logan liked her armpits hairy, especially as it was rare for blondes not to shave them.
Alison was absolutely certain that that last reason was not her most important one.
She was a rational feminist, i.e. not the bra-burning type. Though there were sound reasons to do without, she never would because she hated jogger's nipple, which as a C-cup she tended to get if she went braless. Sherry could get away with it, and often did, but her breasts were a more modest 34B - Alison knew this because they'd gone swimming together once, and whilst getting dressed she'd accidentally picked up the wrong bra.
Prospect Park Splash Pad, Brooklyn
Six years ago
"Checking out the competition's vital stats?" Sherry quipped when she realised the error. "FYI, I'm a 34B. Decent size, but no match for your 34Cs," she chuckled.
"Sorry, I got the wrong bra," Alison apologised. "How d'you know I'm a 34C?"
"Partly years of keen observation," Sherry answered, "but do you remember that night when you got the counselling job?"
"Vaguely," Alison replied ruefully. She'd gotten uncharacteristically drunk to celebrate her six years of hard work paying off, puked and passed out - and awoke in her own bed, with amazingly clean clothes, and nursing the matriarch of all headaches. She had no idea what had happened. God, never again, I could've been raped...again. No more getting stupidly drunk, celebration or not.
"I got you into a cab - God, girl, you got some muscle on you," she said admiringly, "makes you fuckin' heavy when you're helpless. Good job your apartment's a ground-floor one, else I'd never have managed. Anyway, after I put you to bed I washed your clothes, including your bra, and I noticed the size tag."
"You did? Put me to bed, I mean, and washed my clothes? Aw, thanks," Alison smiled in warm appreciation. "You're such a terrific friend."
"It's what friends do," Sherry returned, hugging her. "Besides," she joked, "that might be me one of these days!"
Three days later, after her lease had come through and Alison had helped her move into her new, larger apartment, history had repeated itself, only this time it was Sherry who had overindulged. As the good friend she was, Alison made a poorly Sherry drink some water, put her to bed and...washed her clothes. Normally she detested laundry, but this time she was happy to do it, returning the generous favour Sherry had done her.
Thanks to her impromptu hangover cure, Sherry awoke in much better condition than Alison had, though the latter had still been required to help her friend when Sherry worshipped the porcelain goddess.
"You drink too much," she joked, and Sherry laughed, feeling better. If they hadn't been close friends before, they certainly were now. Helping a friend in the throes of a hangover does that to you.
Nor were Alison and Logan scintillating conversationalists the next night. A single glance between them was enough; they acceded to their mutual desire/lust and adjourned.
Marie and Kitty, each getting a soda, exchanged knowing looks. "They's gettin' it on again," Marie observed.
"I hope the bed can take it," Kitty giggled mischievously, "or the floorboards, come to think of it!"
The two girls shared a mutual giggle and a hug.
Kurt appeared with a BAMF and gently inquired, "Vhat is zer joke, ladies?"
Marie was still giggling as Kitty told him authoritatively, "Girl talk, Kurt."
"Ah," he mused wryly, "if any man ever learns what zat truly means, he vill surely rule zer vorld. It is as vell zat Adolf Hitler never knew."
That observation sent them into fits of hysterical giggling, and both hugged him affectionately. He quipped, "I suppose even male ignorance has its perks."
The girls continued giggling.
On Monday morning, after she'd indulged herself with a quickie, Alison went to the dining room. She helped herself to coffee, toast and a couple of waffles, all of which were delicious. Xavier entered and smiled on seeing her. "Good morning. I take it you have decided to accept my offer."
"Mmm," she agreed through a mouthful of toast, and swallowed. "Financially it's an even better package than the one I'm on, scientifically the opportunity is unparalleled, and everyone's been so friendly," she smiled. "I have a couple of current cases I have to finish first, though - I won't abandon my patients."
"Quite right too," he approved.
She looked as shy as she ever did, which wasn't much. "Um, I'm guessing you know about, uh, Logan..."
"It is something of an open secret," he smiled gently. "With respect, neither of you makes much effort to conceal your, ah...liaison. More than once I have seen Kitty and Marie giggling about it. They overheard one night and, apparently, listened for a short time."
"Naughty girls," Alison chuckled. "If I weren't a randy, sensual slut, I'd be offended. As it is..." she grinned, "I hope they enjoyed it. I certainly did."
"You are both adults, Alison. Thus I am not concerned; it is no-one's business except yours and Logan's. Indeed, it may serve as incentive for both of you. As long as you both enjoy it, good luck to you."
"Thanks," she replied, pleased. "Also...can I retain my secretary? She's not a mutant, but we work so well together I'm reluctant to leave her behind," she appealed.
Again he smiled. "A portion of my students are human; why not the staff as well? You might find it hard to explain, though."
"Oh, Sherry loves reading about mutants - she'll jump at the chance to work with them!"
Alison's office, later that day
You're gonna work with mutants?!" Sherry nearly screeched. "They're real?! Holy shit! I love readin' about 'em, but honestly, I thought it was all fiction! They're really real? And they can really do all that superhuman stuff?"
"Yes, they are, and yes, they can," Alison confirmed, then decided to take a risk. Using her telepathy she sent: To be more accurate, we can do all that stuff. Mutants sound weird, Sherry, but believe me, they're very real. I know, I've seen some. Seen what they can do.
Sherry was frozen to her seat in astonishment. "How...how did you do that? I heard you speak, but...your lips didn't move. Wait a minute...I didn't hear you with my ears - I heard you in my head!"
That's right, you did, Alison sent gently. I only found out last week, but I'm a mutant too - a telepath. They need me, Sherry - a lot of kids at that school were traumatised when their powers kicked in. I can counsel them, help them deal.
Will you come with me? The package is amazing, and more importantly you get to work with real mutants every day. Same job as here, but...weirder. Are you in? I'll understand if not. A couple of offices and other places are just crying out for someone as good as you are, and a recommendation from Dr. Alison McEwan will go a long way - I'll write you a glowing one. She reached out to her secretary and friend. Please come.
"You mean I have a choice?" She shook her head. "Damn, it's weird hearing you in my head instead of out loud."
Alison squeezed her hand and spoke aloud, to respect her friend's state of discombobulation. "Of course you have a choice, Sherry. You know me, you've known me for over ten years. Things haven't really changed, they've just gotten...stranger."
"That's how you were able to reach people so easily," Sherry reasoned correctly. "You were...reading their minds. You knew them better than they knew themselves. You...cheat!" she quipped.
Alison laughed. "Yeah, but I swear I only found out when Professor Xavier came to visit me."
Sherry frowned. "He did? When?"
Now Alison smiled. "Last Thursday. He made you forget as a precaution, in case I refused him. Here..." she concentrated briefly as Xavier had shown her...and suddenly Sherry remembered.
"A bald guy in a wheelchair," Sherry murmured. "He...told me to daydream. To forget him. I did. Wow, that's...some trick. Except it wasn't a trick, was it? Wow. And you're gonna work for this guy?"
"More with him, but yeah. You can, too. It'll solve your mortgage problem if nothing else," she joked; she knew Sherry had been struggling with increasing mortgage payments, and the salary Xavier was offering was considerably higher than her current one - even though Alison was paying over the odds because Sherry was a) a good friend and b) supremely competent in her work. "So are you in?"
"Are you kidding? Think how it'll look on my résumé - ‛I worked as a counsellor's secretary at Mutant High'!" Sherry enthused, laughing. They hugged. "Sign me up, girlfriend!"
"Okay," Alison chuckled. "We just have to finish with our current two cases, then we can start. And you won't have to stop fucking well-hung black guys!"
"Hey! How'd you know about them?!"
Alison giggled. "Telepathy, duh!"
The office rang with their merry laughter.