Salome: Tears of the Goddess
Chapter 2
by
Albertina
Teaser: This is a Logan comicverse story, more or less, that doesn't fit into continuity. It just has some characters in it that I wanted to have skulking around the X-mansion so I put them in there.
Some of the highlights include: Nightcrawler, Cyclops, Gambit, and Wolvie go to a mutant strip club; Logan does his impression of a chicken; X-men throw a b'day party for Logan; and lots of sexual tension between Logan and an original female character. Oh-yeah- also some butt-kicking action. My first attempt at it. Feedback would be much appreciated.
Note: The best lines in this story are taken from the Song of Solomon in the Old Testament.
They've grown silent again in the car. Each X-men chews on his own thoughts. There is an air of many things left unsaid as they zip back toward the mansion at high speed.
"Logan, you're speeding again. Could you ease up a little?" Scott says.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry."
"So what do you think, friends? You think she's caught in some sort of slavers' ring or is she just a girl trying to get by?" Kurt says, finally.
"I don't know, Crawler. 'Dat lil' girl that came on right after her didn' even look like a mutant. Jus' a normal human."
"What girl?" Logan asks, confused.
"That dancer doing the Catholic schoolgirl Lolita act. Totally tasteless. You were out cold, remember?" Scott says.
"No"
"So what was dat like, Logan?" Gambit asks, smirking.
"You know what that was like, Gumbo, you were there when she threw it at us."
"We not the ones she laid the big wet soul-kiss on."
Logan begins to fidget.
"It was like any other woman's kiss," he says unconvincingly.
"Sure it was."
"Yeah, right."
"Bullshit."
"I don't kiss and tell, boys. That's always been my code."
* * * * *
The four men have just finished telling Charles Xavier about the night's adventure.
Charles cups his chin between two fingers.
"Well, that's some story. Unfortunately, I'm not exactly sure how to proceed. This matter needs some further investigation, obviously. Any volunteers?"
"Not me, sir. I don't think Jean would be too happy about that," Scott says.
"I'm out, too," Remy says. "I don' want any trouble wit' Rogue"
Charles looks at Kurt and Logan.
"I'm a religious man, you know. I think I may have to bow out if this one," Kurt says.
They all look at Logan.
"Well, Wolverine, that leaves you. It appears she's taken a shine to you. That makes you the obvious choice," the professor says with a smile.
"That's real funny," he says, scowling.
Later, Logan is seated in front of the television when Jean slides up next to him on the sofa.
"Ororo know your smoking in here?"
"Dunno"
"So, I hear you met someone last night. Is she a nice girl?"
"I didn't meet anyone last night. Who told you that?"
"Scott."
"Humph."
"Everyone's talking about it. You probably shouldn't go around kissing girls that you don't know. I'm shocked."
"I didn't kiss her. She just laid one on me out the blue."
"Why?"
"How in the flamin' hell should I know?"
"Kurt said he thought she must be a psi. It was the only way he could explain it. What do you think?"
"I think he's probably right."
"I think she must be working for someone, whether voluntarily or involuntarily--."
"Thanks for the insight, Jeannie. Why don't you run along now? I'm busy."
"Busy doing what?"
"Busy sittin' here thinkin' my thoughts."
"Oh, whatever, you're a pain in the butt, sometimes. Anyone ever tell you that?"
"Yup."
Logan puffs on his cigar and watches her leave the room.
After a minute, Scott walks in and stands beside the sofa.
"Uh...Logan-- there's someone here asking for you."
"What? Who?"
"Well, it looks like Medusa from the other night."
"Is this a joke?"
"I wish it were."
"You better not be shittin' me, Summers."
"Believe me, Logan, I'm not. She's standing in the foyer."
"Jesus Christ."
"You'd better go talk to her."
"Yea...huh...hold on."
He runs a hand through his hair, before he realizes that he's acting like a schoolboy in front of Scott.
"All right. Bring her in."
"You want her to come in here?"
"This isn't my bedroom, Cyke. Do you want to make her stand in the hall? Now, go get her. Scoot."
Scott leaves and a minute later, she walks into the room. She barely resembles the woman from the night before. She seems smaller, not quite as tall. She has the same dark hair and skin, but she's not glowing from within like she had been. She's wearing a pair of worn jeans, a little too big for her, and what appears to be a man's shirt, untucked. She would look like any other young woman were it not for her exceptional beauty.
"Hi," she says.
"Hi," he says.
They both look away for a moment. Logan looks at the floor. She looks out the window.
"Do you remember me? From the club?"
Her voice is girlish and sweet, nothing like the dusky tones of the woman from the night before.
"Yeah, I remember you. What can I do for you?"
"Your name's Logan, right?"
"How did you know that?"
"I've...uh...got your memories. Remember when I kissed you?"
"You took my memories?"
"Not all of them. Just the most recent ones. Don't be mad, please. I didn't really mean to. It was an accident, honest."
"You accidentally leaned over and kissed me? You accidentally stole something from me? I don't believe this. You'd better leave, darlin', I don't know what game you're playing but you're in the wrong place for it--."
"I know exactly where I am. You told me."
"No, I didn't. I don't even know you."
All vestige of interest in her has left him. He glares at her.
"Please, Logan. You don't understand. I just wanted a way out of there and before I even went onstage I knew that you and your friends were there and that you were like me. Only better off--."
"You think we have it so good? You've got a lot to learn."
"You do have it good. You live here with your friends, with your family. That's more than a lot of people have."
She sees that he's softening towards her. She looks so young, standing there.
Jean walks through the door.
"I...uh...left my purse in here. Don't mind me," she says, looking at the girl and then at Logan.
She walks over to the sofa.
"Ah, well, maybe I didn't. Okay. Bye."
She takes a last look at the girl and ducks out the door, closing it behind her
There is a moment of silence.
"Okay, darlin', you win. What's your name?"
"Magdalene."
"Magdalene? Like from the Bible?"
"Yes."
Remy LeBeau walks through the door.
"Hi, Logan. Listen, Jean wants to know what you'd like for dinner."
"She does, does she? Tell her anything but lasagna."
"Right," he turns to walk out the door, craning his neck around to look at Magdalene.
"Cajun?"
"Yeah."
"Tell everyone standing outside the door to piss off."
"Gotcha. Right. I'll tell 'em."
Logan sighs and turns back to the girl.
"All right, honey. Take a seat. I'm listenin.'"
* * * * *
A few weeks have passed and Magdalene has been staying at the mansion. She seemed very different to the four men who'd witnessed her performance, so different that they'd almost forgotten she was the same woman.
When Gambit asked her about it, she'd waved her hand in front of her face, dismissively, and said, "oh...that...it's all an act, believe me. Complete bullshit."
"It didn't feel like bullshit, chere. You were somethin' else."
"Humph," she snorted. "All men love a temptress."
"You don't like dancin', I take it."
"I like the dancing a lot. It's just the rest of it I don't like."
Gambit wanted to ask her more but her face had hardened. It appeared that the subject was closed.
In truth, she didn't miss the life she'd been leading. She'd hated it almost from the day she walked into the club, hungry and cold. She had no friends there. No one to turn to. It was a gig that kept her off the streets, that was all.
One night she and Logan found themselves together on the terrace where they'd gone for a smoke. He was leaning on the railing, looking at her.
"What happened to all that 'bend your will to me' stuff? You don't talk like that, now."
"Oh, that was all a load of crap. Some men like that kind of shit."
"I liked it."
She looks away from him.
"I think you're blushing," he says, softly.
"You embarrassed me."
As he's looking at her, her skin begins to glow. She's taking on the same amber hue she'd worn the night they'd met. She looks down at her arm and the fingers of her hand. Then she wraps her arms around her back so that she can't see them.
"Look what you did, damn you," she says, a catch in her voice.
"You look nice."
"Sometimes, I can't control it. Most of the time I can--," she trails off, leaving the rest unsaid.
"Damn, darlin', you put the moon to shame you're so bright."
"Stop it."
"I didn't do anythin'."
"Just...please...don't look at me. Not like that."
"You don't have anything to be ashamed of, Maggie. We've all had to do things we didn't want to do. I sure have...you know that."
"I know. I've been all through this with the professor, you know. All this psychobabble stuff."
He goes on looking at her. She's crying, now, but she doesn't want him to see it.
"What's that falling on the floor?" he says, looking at some small round stones that have apparently fallen from her eyes.
"Those are tears. I think they're made of amber. Weird, isn't it?"
"Never seen anything like it," he says, bending down and holding one of her tears in his palm. He thinks she's beautiful, standing there, shining like a star. The energy she's generating makes him breathe harder, makes his heartbeat faster. He can hear her heartbeat, too. He can feel how much she wants him. He wants her, too. But he knows that she doesn't want to want him like that, not yet, and that makes him back away from her now. She deserves that much.
"Hey kid, you know you're all gloom and doom around here. You should lighten up."
"Is that supposed to be funny? How should I act? Like you. You don't strike me as particularly light."
"What are you talkin' about darlin'? I'm quite the ham around here."
She smiles a little and wipes the tears from her eyes.
"Yeah, you're a regular barrel of laughs," she says.
"You don't believe me? Watch this."
He hunches his massive shoulders and bends over. His elbows flare on either side of his hips. His rear end is sticking out, and he sticks his neck out and his chin up. Then he starts to flap his elbows back and forth.
"Bak, bak, bak, baaaaaaaak," he says, walking back and forth and pawing at the ground with one foot.
"Bak, bak, bak, bak, baaaaaaaak, bak, bak."
Magdalene looks startled and then she laughs. She has a tinkling, girlish laugh. She puts her hand over her mouth.
"Bak, bak, bak, baaaaaaaak. . ." he says.
"What the hell are you doing," she chokes.
"I'm doing my impression of a chicken. Don't laugh. This is very serious."
He struts back and forth until she's doubled over with laughter and crying.
"Jean, Logan's gone nuts," Scott says watching Logan and Magdalene from behind the french doors. "What's he doing? He looks ridiculous."
Jean walks over and laughs aloud. "He is so weird. He'll do anything to impress a girl."
"Impersonating a chicken is not particularly impressive," Scott observes mildly.
* * * * *
Logan sighs as he slips into bed. She's a good kid, he thinks. Too young for me. Hell, everyone's too young for a guy as old as I am. How old is she? 25 or 30. I don't know.
The professor said that she's an orphan. She must have had a parent that hailed from the Middle East judging by her looks. I wonder how she ended up in that joint? She was probably desperate like a lot of mutants. She wouldn't last long at a regular job. She might get mad or something and light up like a Christmas tree. That would scare the hell out of most people. She had a quick temper, definitely. He'd seen her snap at Gambit a few times.
He wonders what it is that possesses her. His instincts tell him that at this stage in her life, her power possesses her. She doesn't yet possess it. She reminds him a little of what he was like before he came to join the X-men.
Her life force is incredibly strong, with a will to match it. He can sense it humming through her veins even when she's just lying around, doing ordinary things. But she keeps it in check somehow. She runs from it. It terrifies her. Perhaps because she likes it so much.
He knows that feeling, better than anyone, a mindless, primal abandon to something inside you that has a mind of its own.
He thinks of her dancing up there on that stage. The way the drums pulsed. The way her body moved with their rhythm, the way she was enjoying being in her own skin.
Then he thinks of the way she penetrated him. Her mouth pressing on him hard.
"Enough of that, Logan," he thinks to himself. "That's the last thing she needs."
He can still feel her inside him, the way she tore through him so sweet and wild.
He runs his hands through his hair and groans.
He won't be able to sleep. Not for a long time.
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