Aurora Borealis: Glowing In Brilliant Colors
"I'm an octopus," the child said in all earnestness. He didn't look like one.
The boy was about seven, with curly brown hair and a smiling mouth. He was one of a group playing on the lawn when I pulled up, and had come running as soon as he saw me stop the bike. He didn't seem particularly concerned that I was a stranger.
It wasn't quite the welcome I expected. I cleared my throat, set the bike on it's kickstand. "Uuhh...Good for you?" The little boy let out a delighted shriek of laughter, turned, and ran back to his friends. As he did, I noticed the tail, furry and long, trailing on the ground behind him. Wow.
The mansion hasn't changed since I was last here. Looks the same, smells the same, sounds the same. The trees may be a little more bare-but then again, it is Winter. Other than that the place fits perfectly with the snapshot I've been carrying in my head. I shouldn't be so surprised. Did I think my absence would have that big of an effect on the school? Christ. I was only here a few days.
Actually, I'm kind of relieved. I'm so used to watching the world shift around me, move forward while I stand still. Now that's not the case. And it proves four months wasn't *really* so long a time to be away. It wasn't.
I walk through the oak doors and am in the foyer barely a moment- enough to take in the polished mahogany furnishings, the deep atmosphere of comfort- before my name is being called.
"Logan!"
And Marie is there, striding toward me, all smiles and chocolate hair. Jesus. She looks healthy, slim. She's taller too(is that possible?) and walks with a graceful lope.
"Logan," Marie says again, throwing her arms around me for a quick, careful hug. I return it fighting the grin that wants to take over my mouth. I lose. I'm smiling at her.
"You miss me kid?"
Her hair is longer, sleeker. Smells like coconut shampoo.
"Not really." Yeah. Uh-huh. She's looking like I just gave her a fucking pony.
God, what is this? I feel so warm I wish I'd come back sooner, instead of dragging my ass around Canada.
"Mmm-hmm." I say. "How you doing?" She looks well, but that could be my wishful thinking. Are they taking care of her?
"I'm okay. How are you?" Her brown eyes are so intent, like she really cares about the answer. I give a smile, shrug, start to reply. I want to know if she got my gifts. Did she like them?
But this boy walks- struts- up from no where, comes to stand behind Marie and I feel that warmth draining away. Nothing that short should look that smug. I can feel myself respond naturally to that possessive stance he takes. My nerves prickle to attention. It's an animal instinct, everyone has it. Being the Wolverine just makes it worse.
"Who's this?"
"Oh! This is Bobby. He's my-"
"I'm her boyfriend," the boy cuts her off, forcefully. He hold out his hand. I take it, amusement battling irritation inside me.
"Call me Iceman."
It's like my arm's been thrust into a pile of half-melted snow. My hand stiffens, then turns painfully numb. Then Bobby lets go. I flex my fingers. They crack. Nice. I look at him, measuring. Iceman looks proud of himself, little tyke.
"Right. *Boyfriend?* So how do you guys?...." I'm tempted to waggle my eyes at him in case he misses the point, but there's no need to be undignified. Marie looks like she's about to laugh, hanging in there by a nail. "Bobby", on the other hand, turns bright pink. Cute.
"Well, we're still-ah- working on that," he says hurriedly, shuffling his feet. Yeah, son. You're no match for me. Just get out of the ring.
Not that we're competing.
"Look who's come back. Just in time." The weather witch appears, carrying as ever the scent of electricity.
"For what?", I ask.
"We need a baby-sitter." Storm declares, smirking cheerfully.
"Baby-sitter," I repeat, baffled at the depth of poor judgement those words imply. I glance at Marie. I like Storm, I'm happy to see her again. Bu t I have to wonder if she's lost her mind.
"Nice to see you again, Logan."
The stairs creek and I inhale perfume. And then Dr. Grey is there, coming down the stairs so regally. "Hi, Logan." She has a new haircut. It's pretty nice.
"Hi, Jean."
"Uh, I should...go get the jet ready." Ororo glances at Jean, and a obscure but sharp *look* passes between them, the significance of which is beyond me. What was that narrowing of eyes? Storm is gone before she can explain the oh-so-important 'baby-sitter' remark.
"Yeah, well, it was nice meeting you.", says Bobby,who seems to have found his testicles again. He's like a dear, fleeing as soon as you break eye contact. My eyebrow seems to lift of it's own accord. Yep, nice to meet you too.
"Come on, let's go." And then he-then the boy grabs Marie's wrist, tugging.
"B-bye, Logan. I'll see-see you later." She walks backward a few feet, as if not wanting to leave. I get the strange urge to follow. It's my protective instincts, I tell myself. Nothing more. I don't like the way he took hold of her wrist. How dare that punk drag her like that? He-he coulda pulled out of it's socket! Yeah. I should make sure Marie's okay. But..no, she's smiling. Maybe she's putting on a brave face? I should-
No. Look at Jean. Look at Jean.
"Okay," I call after Rogue. The kid's fine.
"Storm and I are going to Boston. We won't be gone long," Jean tells me. Her voice is almost a purr. She looks good. Better than good-she's a beautiful woman...although maybe I could do without that perfume. It's heavy(I can never tell that stuff apart. With my senses, all I pick up is wet chemical, with sometimes a splash of flowers.)
"Boston?"
"Yeah. The Professor caught word of a mutant there who might need out help." Her mouth is just how I remember it, thin and sensuous. But....weren't her eyes a little greener? Her hair a bit softer? She steps forward and I shrug off these inconsistencies.
"You'll be here when we get back, unless you plan on running off again."
I start to speak but pause-running off again? A half-memory catches me: Jean on the couch next to her boyfriend, her gaze flickering to me in the doorway. And then away. Jean saw me leave. She could have said goodbye. If she wanted.
But I can see Scott at the edge of my vision, so I smirk, make my voice a little throatier. It's almost a reflex. "Oh, I could probably think of a few reasons to stick around." I sniff the air appreciatively. Anger from Cyclops, lust from Dr. Grey. Not bad. That's a much better perfume. Wish I could bottle it.
"Find what you were looking for, Logan?"
"More or less," I tell him. Never mind that it was heavy on the less side. The door opens behind us, and the children from outside file in.
"I'll see you boys later," Jean says. And her voice can get throaty too. She's lit the fuse and left us to blow on the flame. She walks away, pauses to kiss Scott. On the cheek. He tells Jean to be safe and she glances back at me before leaving, tight, knowing smile on her lips.
"See ya."
It's wonderful how expressive Cyke's face can be, even with his eyes covered. I bet he's just itching to take off those glasses, just for a moment. I wonder if I could take it.
"Aren't you gonna welcome me home?"
Oh yeah. That's the stink eye. He can't do anything, with the little kids behind me. And it's killing him. I reach in to my jacket pocket, luxuriously pull out the keys to the motorcycle. "Your bike needs gas."
His jaw drops a little, then tightens. "Then *fill her up*." Throws them back. The keys sting as they hit my palm,and I'm smiling for the tenth time that day. A record.
As One-Eye stomps down the hall, a flash of brown hair and denim goes by me, the patter of small feet on wood. "Mr. Summers! Mr. Summers! I'm an Octopus!"
Xavier's not in his office. My second guess is that big round room he's so fond of, and the student I ask confirms it.
Cerebro still has that cold, sterile atmosphere. If it weren't for the Professor, the place wouldn't smell like anything at all. And that's rare. Believe me.
"My tolerance for your smoking not withstanding," Chuck says without turning around, "Smoke that in here and you'll spend the rest of your days under the belief that you are a six-year-old girl." His voice is flat. I'm not sure if he's joking or not.
"Can you do that?" Forgive me for being a little wary of people messing with my mind.
"I'll have Jean braid your hair...Welcome back."
The steel doors *ding* behind be and begin to close. I look around. Don't suppose he'd be happy if I ground out the cigar on the walkway.
The cigar's tip send a thousand shards of pain through my nerves, pressed squarely in the center of my palm. It's a unique feeling, which is one step away from pleasure in my world.
"You want me to leave?"
"No. Just don't move."
I've never been inside this room when Xavier does his little magic trick. Gotta say, it's a little impressive. If I couldn't feel the walkway beneath my boots, I'd be dizzy. A thousand lights with no light bulb, and the walls seem to disappear. This must be how those astronauts feel in space.
"These lights represent every living person on the planet," begins Xavier in his best teaching voice. "The white lights are the humans.....and these are the mutants. Through Cerebro I'm connected to them, and they to me." Millions of red lights. Millions of millions. Equal to the humans.
"You see, Logan? We're not as alone as you think."
They were kind, simple words. But with that one sentence, I'm absolutely, positively certain Chuck *knows*. And I'm reminded why I'm here today. He knows what I found, or didn't find up there in Canada. But the question is, did Chuck have that knowledge before or after I stepped in this room?
"I found the base at Alkali Lake. There was nothing there." I'm proud of myself. My tone doesn't sound the least bit accusing. "I need you to read my mind again."
"Logan-the results will be the same as before."
"We had a deal." If I keep to the business side of the argument, maybe the anger won't leak out. Maybe my claws will stop itching.
"The mind is not a box that can simply be unlocked. It's a beehive with a million-"
"Spare me the lecture." Or maybe not. I can feel frustration, like the embers from that cigar, rising up.
His voice is appeasing now. "I have no idea that your amnesia, your adamantium skeleton, the claws are all somehow connected, but...Logan, sometimes the mind needs to discover things for itself..I promise you we'll talk again when I return...Oh, if you would be so kind to watch over the children tonight. Scott and I are going to visit an old friend." Chuck's face looks truthful; I don't smell a lie. Why then do I feel like The Professor is ducking away from me?
It's late in the evening before I see Marie again. I'm taking my clothes out of my backpack- putting some in the green hamper, others in the drawers. This is a different room than last time. It has a wide window, larger bathroom. I think this is one of the teachers quarters. A sort of Join-Our-Team-Get-The-Big-Bed approach.
I hear her before I smell her, smell her before I see her. Soft, hesitant footsteps on the rug outside. A quick knock on the already open door. Coconut shampoo and chocolate icing scent. Her shy smile, not so cheeky now.
"Hey, Logan. You busy?"
"No kid. 'Course not."
I keep folding shirts, mostly for something to do with my hands. But I watch her. (Her shoulder looks okay, not particularly sore.) Marie steps lightly, carefully into the room, like crossing some invisible border. She comes to stand by the dresser, leaning against it.
"I didn't get to thank you for all that stuff you sent. The jacket and the postcard and the glasses and thing. They were really great, and nice of you." Her tongue still has that Southern heaviness.
I don't know the word that won't make me sound like a pansy. I wanted to hear that she enjoyed the gifts, but now I don't know what to say. I'm not used to being thanked.
"I'm glad, kid." Another pair of jeans in the drawer.
Marie's lips twitch. She really does look better, happier. She smiles alot. I wonder if that's the effect of the school, or joy at me being here. I don't know which answer I'm hoping for.
That's a lie.
I do.
"Did...those errands up North...how'd it go?"
I look at her quickly. Not smiling now. Little furrow between her eyes, slight scent of concern.
"Dead end." Her shoulders droop. "Nothing for you to worry about, Marie."
"I'm sorry, Logan." Voice so quiet.
"It's alright." And right now, I start to think that may be - could be true.
Marie bites her lip, looks down and begins fumbling with her glove. I don't understand until I see the chain unravelling. She's kept it wrapped around her wrist.
"Here," she says, and holds out the tags. "These are yours."
I look at them in her fingers, think about the metal being pressed against her flesh for months. My past. That's what she's trying to give me.
"Keep them," I tell her.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter, considerably longer than my previous ones, is dedicated to Adoptable Stuff at Nanowrimo, especially to the girl who posted the opening line, and the friend who said I could never fit it into the story. I love reverse psychology.
There's a tad bit of Bobby-and-Jean bashing in this. I'm sorry to all you fans of them. Contains dialouge, but not all the events from X2. This is what I believe/fantasize would have happened if they took that pesky Striker out of the equation.
As ever: read, enjoy, review. :)
There's a tad bit of Bobby-and-Jean bashing in this. I'm sorry to all you fans of them. Contains dialouge, but not all the events from X2. This is what I believe/fantasize would have happened if they took that pesky Striker out of the equation.
As ever: read, enjoy, review. :)
Chapter End Notes:
Well, you're at the end of another chapter. You've read it. I hope you enjoyed it. I'd love for you to review it.