A word from the author;
In my mind's eye, the X-Men should be able to run Danger Room scenarios without "monitors" if they rank high enough on the team. So, my muse wins as far as that's concerned. Also, I see Sabertooth as a psycho, so I portrayed him as one—mind games at all. Again if you have a problem, talk to my muse. She's driving.
V It wasn't like he didn't know. Hell, Nada's scent wafted from her every pore, stung from her cheeks. She was familiar, all right. Dangerously familiar. The truth of who she was brought up old, hidden feelings that he didn't want to admit. He wanted to run from them, to escape, but he couldn't. He felt trapped.
And Storm wasn't listening.
"God-DAMMIT--!"
He slammed his fist into the Danger Room wall. His fist, filled with adamantium, dented the side, and he knew there'd be hell to pay if Scott found out. So what. Danger Room meant danger and hell, he was sure in a dangerous mood.
"Computer. Run Sabertooth Scenario Eighteen."
"Warning. Scenario potentially lethal. Recommend contacting additional X-Men to monitor Control Booth."
"No. Run Sabertooth Scenario Eighteen. Now." II A small beep signaled the change. He bared his teeth and growled as the room morphed into a jungle forest. It stank of old blood and burning iron, and the sounds of Viet Cong and metal music blared through the speakers, surrounding him.
"Dramatic, ain'tcha, Runt?"
The voice trickled through the trees, teasing him. He programmed this Sabertooth especially well—too well, almost. This one knew he was in the Xavier Danger Room, and Wolverine had designed him to play with his prey first.
"Well, well, well. Look who's got jungle fever."
Wolverine felt his control slip. He panted heavily. "Come out, Creed!"
"Sweets wants ta play now. Fine. You think you ready for me, girlfriend?"
"You know I am."
A tank exploded from behind, but Wolverine didn't pay any attention to it. He knew it was a diversion. Burning shrapnel sizzled across his back but he ignored it.
Didn't matter. Creed dropped from the trees above him, and raked his thick claws into the smaller man's back. Wolverine grimaced and reached back with his adamantium claws, but Creed had already jumped free.
Sabertooth disappeared into the shadows. He knew exactly how to hide and the strong scent of charred metal and bodies covered his fleeting tracks.
"Ain't we slow t'night," Creed whispered. "You're distracted, huh? Bet yer dick's gotcha in trouble again. Sweet, fresh meat... Gotta have me one-a them X-frails. Can't wait to feel 'em inside-a me."
Keep talkin,' Creed. Wolverine moved through the jungle like he was part of it, and avoided the mines by stepping on shrapnel and bodies. Your big mouth's gonna give you away.
"Mmmm, yeah. X-girl's on the menu. I heard yer heart skip, Runt, so I know you're pining for an X-girl. Yer too soft. You fall fer ev'ry walkin' cunt on two legs. Who's it today? Red? Juju? Kit-Kat? Roguie? Stormy?"
Sabertooth paused, and Wolverine crouched low to match the silence.
"Heh, heh. Yer heart skipped another beat, Runt. Gotcha. Hearts can't lie. I know it, an' you know it. Tear it out, boy. No heart, no feelin'. Hell, I'll even show ya how it's done."
Wolverine crawled underneath a hot tank and slowed his breath.
"She's pretty, I kinda agree. Don't go for dark meat much, but they all rip up nice an' pretty. And every last one of 'em's Indian red inside."
Creed's voice was getting closer. Wolverine felt himself losing more and more of himself. He was looking forward to ripping Creed to shreds.
"You hidin,' Runt?" Sabertooth jumped into the clearing, and Wolverine saw every inch of his hulking, tangled brutality. Creed took small steps towards the tank.
That's it, mouth. C'mon. Keep walkin'.
"Hidin' ain't too sporty of ya, Wolvie. Kinda cowardly. But, I bet I can bring ya out. Watch this trick: Computer, get me Storm."
Wolverine ground his teeth. He'd programmed this Creed to call up anybody or anything against him. Sabertooth could neither change the intensity of the program, nor the scenario, but he could play with anything else in the entire database.
A facsimile of Storm floated nearby, poised to strike. She looked lifelike.
"Ooh, lookie what I got, Runt. A new toy."
"Will you cease and desist, or must we defeat you, once again?"
Sabertooth laughed, nodding. " 'Cease an' desist.' I like that. Talks just like the real thing, Logan. She bleed like the real thing, too?"
A lightning bolt flashed from the ceiling, nailing Sabertooth in the face and flinging him into a tree. The man howled with rage and clawed at his face and, despite himself, Wolverine chuckled. He scooted out from under the tank while Sabertooth rubbed his eyes. The diversion would be enough to—
"Computer!" Sabertooth roared. "Immobilize Storm!"
Wolverine couldn't take his eyes away. Storm struggled, alive, as if invisible bonds held her.
"Logan--? What is this?"
Sabertooth got to his feet. His laugh was guttural and ugly. The skin around his eyes was charred black, but his healing factor had already caused pink flesh to bubble around his cheekbones.
"Fuck this game shit, Wolverine. Let's do this right."
"Logan--! I—I'm trapped...You must—"
"Let her go."
Sabertooth grinned at him. "No. I want you good an' mad."
Wolverine didn't have time to react. Sabertooth grabbed Storm in one hand and ripped apart her belly with his other. Her intestines spilled onto the ground, but she was still alive...screaming.
"NO!"
"Quit yer bellyachin'," he said, laughing at his own joke. "She's still alive. Watch."
Creed aimed for her chest and ripped a surgical line down the center of her torso. Storm began going into convulsions. He tore back her skin and exposed her heart. "See? Still beatin'."
"Mother fucker--!"
Wolverine flew at him with claws outstretched as Sabertooth dropped the dying Storm figure.
"Yeah, baby. You know what I like." Sabertooth crouched low and waited for Wolverine to hit him point blank.
"Computer!" Wolverine growled. "Immobilize Sabertooth."
"Whaa--? C'mon! You ain't pl—"
Sabertooth didn't have time to answer. Wolverine jabbed his claws into his throat, and ripped his body from voice box to kneecap. Sabertooth screamed, but Wolverine wasn't done. He stabbed the man in the belly and began carving. Red spurted across his claws as he stabbed through Sabertooth's heart, stomach, and lungs. Tissue and flesh hung from his claws. When Sabertooth's screams became dull moans, it fueled his fire. He started laughing.
He drew back his arm for another round but a new, calm voice thundered across the room.
"Computer. End program."
Sabertooth and the jungle disappeared. Wolverine snarled, seeing nothing but a sizzling, smoking robot on the end of his claws. "Bring him back! I wasn't done."
"Yes, you were."
His growl intensified, and it took all of his strength to bring him back from the edge. He panted loudly at the robot and blinked sweat from his brow, and froze his body until he could take normal breaths.
"Now. Would you mind telling me what that was about?"
"Yeah. I would mind." He kicked the robot across the room where it bumped into the wall and broke into several pieces.
"I have not seen you so angry in a very long time, Logan."
He found his towel where he left it, on a chair in a corner. He mopped his face and headed for the exit. "Maybe you ain't seen me in a very long time."
Ororo entered the doorway and blocked his escape. He scowled, but didn't snap at her. He already felt stupid and embarrassed.
"Can you at least explain what prompted your outburst? You have seen my robot double killed in other Danger Room sessions. Do you enjoy coming to my rescue that much?" Her delicate lips curved in a partial smile, which diffused a lot of his shame. He almost smiled back.
"It's complicated, 'Ro. But...thanks fer bringin' me from the brink. It coulda got ugly."
She stepped aside and let him pass. "It already seemed that way, from my point of view. Wait—Logan..."
He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. "Yeah? What?"
At her long pause he glanced over his shoulder. Ororo had weaved her long, dark fingers together, and she was staring at them.
"Please. I think we should talk. I—I cannot bear this secrecy between us."
He sighed. Her concern actually got to him. "Lemme get cleaned up, 'Ro. We can go for a walk out back. A walk will do us both some good."
She nodded. Her soft blue eyes made him feel as immobilized as the robots in the Danger Room.
"Thank you."
"Yer welcome," he whispered. He walked away slowly, but was surprised by the ache in his chest.
VI
"Hon'," Scott joked, "you're as jumpy as a cat in a room of long-tailed rocking chairs."
"Long-tailed cat," she corrected automatically, missing his joke.
She paced their room one last time. He sighed, got up from his chair, and stopped her from pacing by wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "You know I'll let you brood for a while, but I have my limits. Does it have anything to do with our multi-dimensional kids?"
She shook her head and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled and ran his fingers through her long tresses, enjoying the silky feel across his fingers.
"No. I—I just remembered something. I think I should talk to Charles about it."
"About our little visitor?"
She nodded. "I'm worried about her. Mentally, I mean. There's definitely more to her than meets the eye."
"What, more than attitude?" Scott made a face. "That brat almost took my head off when I tried speaking to her a few hours ago."
"Honey, didn't Hank say leave her alone until she feels better?"
He shuffled his feet. "Yeah, well, I got curious. And, Jean, that kid doesn't just bite the hand that feeds her. She rips it out of its socket and mauls it with her sharp tongue."
Jean didn't bat an eye.
Scott sighed. "Tell me what it is. Please."
"I'm not sure what it is, Scott. I..."
She gasped, and the psychic bond between them suddenly shut down. When she began trembling, Scott turned her around and hugged her tightly.
"Don't do this to me," he whispered in her ear. "Don't shut me out. I hate it when you do that."
Jean bit her lip and clenched her eyes. "I know, my love. I know. But...this isn't up for discussion right now, not until I'm sure about a few things. I know I have to talk to Charles now. Only he can confirm it."
"Well," he mumbled, "Just let me know if I should be afraid, furious, happy, or sad. Guess I'll figure the rest out later, when I'm spoon-fed with the rest of 'em."
Jean laughed. She ran her fingers across his bitter smirk, and lightly kissed him. "Sweetie, that's why I love you. You know exactly what to say to make me feel better.
* * *
Jean paused at Charles' door and couldn't quite muster the courage to knock. She had discussed major issues with him before—her family, Scott's infidelity, her death, her resurrection—but those things had not made her this afraid. She knew that no matter what, her friends' lives would be irrevocably changed. Forever.
< Charles?>
"Come in, Jean." Professor Xavier had been reading the same six lines of poetry for the past hour. His mind kept wandering to the secrets he read in the child's mind. Things that disturbed him.
"Henry was here earlier, Jean, and he dropped off some of his newest findings on our visitor. His... tests went through the entire spectrum."
"He knows, then." She sank in the nearest chair, and Charles' hoverchair silently floated beside her. "Is he going to say anything?"
Charles shook his head. "He won't, until he's sure of his last DNA test."
"Well, dammit," she exploded, "how much proof does he need? The testimonies of two telepaths aren't enough?"
"Jean—"
"Charles, I think we can safely say that her presence concerns more than you, me, and Hank. You know that."
He nodded. Sad, hard lines dug through his cheeks. "And her secrets should be shared, when the time's right. But I agree with Hank. Until he has conclusive proof, we should keep this to ourselves."
"How am I supposed to keep this to myself, Charles? We've peered into hell."
Charles was too tired to comfort her with a smile. "It's the risk we face as telepaths, Jean. You know that, too. We saved her life, and now we must face both the good and the ill from our actions."
"Charles—"
"Jean." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not up to us."
She shook her head. "But what about Nada, Charles? She's holding on by a mental thread. She has to talk to them. They're the only ones who can save her."
"Nada must make that choice, Jean."
"But she's not willing to, Charles! That's my point." Jean put a hand to her forehead. "If she doesn't reach out soon, if they don't..."
Fear welled up in Jean's gut. Charles knew exactly what she was saying, but he didn't agree. Worse, his thoughts told her he wasn't even going to intervene--!
"You'd let her commit suicide," she said coldly. Charles looked down, confirming her worst fears. "You'd let her die!"
He left her side, sighing, and put his book back on his desk. "I told you, Jean. It's not up to us. This time, it's not our place to choose. It affects too much, and the risks are too great to—"
Jean got to her feet. " How can you sit there and proselytize about the damn 'Dream' when here it is, staring you in the face, and you won't do a blessed thing about it? How can you condemn her like this?"
"Jean—"
"And what about Rachel? Nathan--? Oh, hell, let's throw Maddie in there for fun! They're worthy, but she's not?"
Charles slammed his fist on his desk. "Enough, Jean. Yes, Nada's 'worthy.' Of course she is. But our meddling won't help the situation. We've done too many wrong things in the past. It's time to do something right for a change, something that will last."
"That's right, Charles. It is time to do something right for a change." She headed for the door. "And I'll do it, if you're too afraid."
His office thundered with the force of the slammed door. Charles' frown deepened. He didn't call after Jean or make any moves to stop her, but he tapped his fingers on his desk and stared out the window. He had no answers this time. And both arguments appeared correct.
Condemned to brood, Charles Xavier sighed, retrieved his book, and attempted to read beyond the sixth line.
* * *
"How's the kid doin'?"
Ororo shrugged. The sky blushed a combination of russets and golds as the sun began its slow, careful dip beneath the horizon. After a short trek over the highest peak on the grounds, they sat without speaking and watched it disappear. Logan had been the first to speak after ten minutes of silence. He glanced at Ororo's dark cheek, which glowed a beautiful reddish-brown. The same color as the sensual curve of a ripe, crimson apple.
He stared at his own fingers and was surprised to see them trembling. Damn.
"She refuses to speak to anyone. The Professor tried, Henry tried, Scott tried—"
Logan grunted. "Cyke couldn't charm a dog with a slab of beef."
Ororo smiled and fell back onto her elbows. "She's withdrawn from us, and no one really knows why. I suppose she will tell us in due time."
"Maybe." A breeze picked up, blowing some of Ororo's long, platinum strands into her face. Without thinking, Logan brushed them back.
"Logan?"
"Hm?"
"Level with me."
He nodded and dug his elbows into the ground. "Sure. You figure it out, yet?"
Ororo studied her fingers, which almost settled her nerves, but he could still hear her racing pulse.
"Nada's our child, isn't she?"
He didn't say anything and looked out over the hillside for a few minutes. When he was ready, he met her careful gaze.
"You know she is, 'Ro." At Ororo's look of fear he rubbed his eyes, sighing. "Okay, so maybe she's from another timeline, or another dimension, or somethin'. But she's ours. Yours an' mine."
Ororo surprised him with a throaty chuckle that sounded exactly like Nada's. "Are we at the beginning of another dimensional family? Goddess, Logan."
He smiled. "We already got two dozen Summers' runnin' 'round. What's another kid?"
"And Bishop."
"Yeah. Can't forget Bish." He chuckled and stared into the sky. The orange colors had turned the color of a bruise. "What's with us, anyway? I wonder if anyone else got this problem, or if its just Chuck's brood."
"Who knows?"
"Yeah. Who knows."
Ororo swore an indelicate oath. She flopped her head on his stomach, and glared at the sky.
"Honestly, Logan. I'm not sure what we should do, and it angers me to be in this position."
He lifted his arm to make her more comfortable, and combed his fingers through the ends of her long strands. "No kiddin'. Why d' you think I trashed the Danger Room?"
She looked up into his face, which stopped his heart. "You could have spoken with me. You did not have to go on a feral killing spree."
"Darlin', sometimes there ain't much of a choice."
"There is always a choice, Logan."
"Uh, huh."
She settled her head back on his stomach as the words echoed in his head. Choice. Always a choice. Always...
Ah, hell. Just go for it, Canucklehead.
He shifted position again and reached down, cradling her head in one hand. Ororo frowned and was about to ask him why, but his mouth covered hers, stifling her next words. Her heart raced, but she didn't pull back. Better still, she leaned into him and their kiss deepened. They searched each other's mouths with their eyes closed, with their hands cradling one another's bodies. Neither stopped. Neither wanted to.
"Mmm," Ororo said, when they finally broke for a breath. She traced the line of his jaw. Her eyes were bright, excited, and frightened all at once. "What was that for?"
"Felt like it," Wolverine said. "Felt...right."
"This had better not be one of your jokes."
"No joke," he whispered. She began crying.
"Oh, Logan...Why? Why now? You have the worst timing of any..." He brushed his rough fingers against her lips to stop her speech and she clung to his hand, kissing his fingertips.
"Yeah. So? You can't lie to me and tell me you haven't wanted this for a long time."
"How did you know?"
"How couldn't I know? Hell, woman, your heart booms louder than your lightning whenever I enter a room."
Ororo shook her head. She was still in shock, dazed at the newness of it. "And yet—"
"—I haven't done a damn thing about it," Logan finished. "Yeah, I know. Too wrapped up in other things. Had to deal with 'em first."
She was trembling, so he wrapped his arms around her. God, he wished he'd done this ages ago. Didn't make her wait any less right. She'd been waitin' for him for the longest time, and he'd kept her in damn limbo.
"Wolverine, what about Jean?"
"She loves Cyke, 'Ro. Cyke loves her. End of story."
"But you still love her."
He traced her chin. She looked up, and he felt stung by her eyes. "Not like you think. Not anymore. Took me a while, but I moved on."
"And if she feels—"
"Darlin'," Wolverine muttered, exasperated. He turned her around to face him, and felt her fear, and her anticipation. "I'm tryin' ta tell ya that I don't love her anymore. That I'm fallin' fer someone else. You gettin' it, yet?"
Ororo barely nodded, but he knew he didn't have her. Not yet. She tore away from him and stood up defiantly. "Damn you, Logan. It's not as if our lives are complicated enough. It's not as if we have a potential daughter in there, from another time, one that may or may not come from what..."
He slid behind her and grabbed her waist. He slowly swayed his body behind hers, and her pulse rocketed. She was lovin' it, and he was having fun wearing her down.
"Uh, huh," he said, rubbing his cheek across her neck. "Sounds like a big problem, X-Leader."
She stamped her foot. "Are you even listening to me?"
"Yep." He nibbled on her shoulder, and she moaned softly. "Ain't nothin' we can do about it right now, is there?"
"Are you..." Ororo swallowed. "Aren't you the least bit concerned with her entry? Don't you care about Nada's powers, or what she's capable of? Don't you want to learn—"
"Uh, huh." He placed his strong hands on her waist and spun her around to face him. He started grinning. Her face was moist with sweat, but he felt her desire clinging to his own body, like a second skin. "Tomorrow, 'Ro."
She licked her lips. "What if...what we don't have time tomorrow?"
"Trust me. We'll make time."
She lowered her eyes, and he paused to take in her beauty. He crept closer to her lips, like a hunter after scared deer, but she startled him by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into the most intense lip lock that he'd had in over forty years.
* * * NEXT PART * * *
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