Demon In My View
Chapter One: The Pages of Memory
by
Libby Edwards
Disclaimer: Property of Marvel Comics. I do not own them. I sure-as-hell wish I did.
Author's note: I originally posted the first two chapters of another X-Men story of the same name on ff.net, as well as on a personal page I had created. After the second chapter, and despite some very nice reviews (thank you, those that gave me feedback!), I decided that I really wasn't happy with where the original story was going, although I was excited about the basic premise (which unfortunately was not made very clear in the initial posting). I took some time off, rethought my idea, and this story you are now reading is the result of that retooling process.
While I have tried to stick as close to canon as possible, I am a firm believer that canon is there to be a support, and not a stranglehold, so if there are a few departures from canon here and there it is because I truly did not feel that those elements were necessary. Also, as in all my Logan-centric stories, Wolverine is tall, because I don't like a short Wolverine. Call it artistic license, if you like. :)
Enjoy!
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were -- I have not seen
As others saw -- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I lov'd, I lov'd alone.
Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold --
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by --
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view."
"Alone" by Edgar Allan Poe
Sometimes it starts with nothing more than a scent. Just a breath of her fragrance on the skin of another woman, and I remember the way she felt in my arms, the night I asked her to be my bride and she said yes. Other times, I'll smell jasmine, and I'll remember the jasmine in the bowl by the door, mingling with the coppery scent of her blood as it ran over my hands and onto the tatamis of the floor. Or it will be rain...conjuring up the fragrance of rain-soaked earth as I knelt by her grave, feeling lost, feeling empty, and knowing that I would feel that way forever.
Dear God, but she was beautiful. Her hair, black as an endless night, falling like a shadow over my skin as she made love to me in the hours just before sunrise. Onyx eyes, as cold as ice and as soft as velvet. All coupled with the enigma of her heart. I never did completely understand her. I never fathomed the thoughts that hid behind those coolly assessing glances. I only knew she loved me, and I loved her, so much that it still hurts to breathe when I think of her, even now.
Mariko. My lady. My only love. She was...and still is...Japan for me, in all its beautiful and delicate power.
It hurt, how the others forgot her so soon. They didn't know her like I did, of course...but they knew what she meant to me. It was like someone shut off a light, and the rest of them moved on while I was left to catch up. But that is my lot, I guess...the Wolverine isn't supposed to mourn.
She haunts me, when I least expect it. A wind will stir as I pass a window, and silken drapes caress me, and I will stop and close my eyes and remember the softness of her skin, the whisper of her kimono as she leaned close to kiss me. I will rise in the morning, drinking coffee from a broken cup, and I will see her face in the rising steam, smiling at me as if she never left.
But Death is a cruel master. He is never cheated, and He never loses. It is with a bitter sort of amusement that I can say this...after all, I was once Death myself.
She did not cry out in the end. Her eyes only widened, as if in surprise, and then she sagged in my arms and breathed a final, soft sigh. I remember one of her hands clutching my shoulder briefly, in pain or farewell I will never know. I think I whispered her name, but even of that I am no longer sure. I simply remember the way she felt in my arms that last time, as I gathered her close to me and carried her from the room.
My beauty. I gave you back your honor, at the expense of your life and my soul. I still see your eyes in my dreams, and in my nightmares, but the two are really one and the same. The others...they think my moans in the night, my restless wanderings, are the memories of what was done to me, what Weapon X did to the man I once was. They don't know that my nightmares are caused by demons of my own making.
Nightmares. Nightmares and bad dreams and ghosts waiting to come to me when I least expect them. The smell of blood in battle...and I remember the blood on the woven mats beneath my feet. The sky at night...and I remember the blackness of your eyes as the life faded from them. I spit an enemy on my claws...and I remember the terrible weight of your body as those same claws did the awful work you had asked of me.
And now the scent of cigarettes, of all things. The Cajun stands outside my bedroom door, talking to Rogue as I lie awake in my bed, and he smokes a cigarette. And I remember kneeling at your grave, my senses filled with the scents of rain and Remy's cigarette smoke. He was standing behind me, silent, not knowing what to say, as I buried the only woman I have ever loved enough to give my heart.
Even in the most mundane of things, I will never be free of you, Mariko. And the worst of it is this...I don't know if I want to be free. Without you, there is nothing much left of my soul but pain.
But even pain is better than nothing.
* * * * *
Ororo lifted her hand and knocked gently on Logan's door, her blue eyes roaming idly over the wood as she listened for sounds within. Her hair stirred slightly in a breeze from the open window at the end of the hall, the twitter of birdsong sounding faintly as morning sunlight stretched itself across the floor toward where she stood.
Silence. "Logan?" she called. "Are you awake yet?"
A soft hum could be heard from down the hall to her right, and she looked over briefly to see Xavier powering his wheelchair across the carpet toward her. He was nattily-dressed, as always...comfortable pants, custom-made leather slip-ons, an open-throated white dress shirt and over all a tweed jacket that made him look every bit the professor he was. "Good morning, Ororo," he said, and she smiled and nodded as he moved past her and toward the elevator that would take him to the first floor and breakfast.
Ororo waited until the elevator door had opened and closed again, then she leaned close and pressed her ear against the solid oak of Logan's door, listening for some sign that he was still in there. Nothing but silence...rapidly drowned out by the pounding of sneakered feet coming up the stairs from the floor below.
Jubilation Lee came tearing up the stairs and rounded the newel post at the top of the landing like a quarterback. She raised a hand in greeting to Ororo, then slowed to a trot, then a stop, apparently after she realized in front of whose door Ororo was standing.
"Good morning, Jubilee."
"Hey, what's up?" she asked, slightly out of breath. "You waiting for Wolvie or something?"
Ororo nodded. "Do you know if he has left yet? He was supposed to meet me for a training session this morning."
"Aw, cripes," Jubilee sighed, rolling her eyes expressively as she leaned against the doorframe and popped her chewing gum. "I am sooo sorry. How do you always seem to get stuck with Wolvie as a training partner?"
Ororo smiled. "I am not quite sure, Jubilee. Perhaps the professor thinks we work well together."
She snorted. "Huh. Nobody works well with the Wolvster...trust me."
"Some perhaps better than others," Ororo said gently.
Jubilee glanced at the door, blowing a bubble, then she lifted her arm and suddenly pounded on the door with her fist, startling Ororo with a yell. "Yo! Wolvie! You up yet?"
"Jubilee, please, keep it down..."
"Aw, don't worry, Storm. If you don't holler at him, he'll never heard you." Jubilee pounded on the door once more, then shrugged and moved away. "I don't think he's in there. He's probably already downstairs or gone or something."
"Perhaps."
"I've gotta go. I'm supposed to be getting Bobby's CD player for him." Jubilee snapped her gum again and turned away, trotting down the hall toward her bedroom while Ororo watched her go. Ororo felt a bemused smile tugging at her lips...that girl is a caution, she thought fondly, then she turned back toward the door and frowned at it, her hands on her hips. Already gone...well, it would be just like Logan to skip out on a training session. Logan never seemed to think that he needed them.
"Logan?" she called one last time, and when there was still no answer, she turned away to go back downstairs...only to stop in her tracks when she heard the faint snick of the door opening behind her.
"What in God's name do you want, 'Ro?"
Logan's voice...sounding more weary and tired than she had ever heard. Ororo turned back and saw that his door was open, with Logan's shadowy figure standing just inside, his eyes fixed on hers. She spread her hands apart questioningly, retracing her steps back to his door with a slight frown of worry on her face.
"Are you all right?" she asked softly. "I have knocked and called several times...why didn't you answer?"
"I was sleeping," he said gruffly.
She folded her arms over her chest and regarded him skeptically. "When have you ever slept through someone beating on your door? Usually you hear me before I have reached the top of the stairs."
Logan said nothing. He watched her for a moment, his head down in a characterisitc defensive posture that she knew well, then he turned abruptly and walked away into the dimness of his room, leaving the door open. Ororo slipped inside, stopping just beyond the door as she watched Logan sit on the edge of his rumpled bed and run his fingers absently through the tousled black of his hair. He didn't seem to want to look at her, but he didn't need to...it was obvious to anyone that looked that Logan had spent an awful night. Even his healing ability had not been able to erase the dark, sleepless bruises under his eyes.
"Logan?" Ororo said softly. "What is the matter?"
Logan folded his hands together loosely, letting his arms rest across his thighs, and he shook his head once. "Nothin', 'Ro. Just tired. I had a bad night."
"Nightmares again?"
"Yeah," he said briefly. "Somethin' like that."
Ororo watched him in silence, her heart hurting a little for this man that sat in the shadows in front of her. What a strange thing he was, so tough and, yes, even cruel...but then in a rare unguarded moment one might be allowed, for the briefest of times, to see the man he once had been. "Did you still want..." she began. "I mean, we were scheduled for a training session today..."
"I'll be there," Logan interrupted softly. "Go ahead...I'll be down in a minute."
Ororo paused, studying the profile of his face even as he looked at his hands as if deep in thought...or memory. She lifted a hand slightly, wanting to touch him in comfort, not even aware that her hand was moving of its own accord...but instead she sighed inwardly and let her hand drop, the gesture as empty as the past he had forgotten...and as full of regret as the past he still remembered.
"I...I'll meet you downstairs, then, all right?" she said. He nodded again, and she withdrew through the door and closed it quietly behind her, leaving him in the solitude he evidently sought.
Ororo went down the stairs slowly, one hand resting lightly on the balustrade as she descended the curving flight to the ground floor below. She then turned left at the foot of the stairs, walking past the open door of the empty kitchen and the huge double doors of the mansion's library, taking another left that led her down a short flight of tiled stairs to a corridor just below.
This hall was quite a contrast to the one she had just left. It was narrow and low-ceilinged, the soft, honeyed tones of the ground floor's hardwood giving way to brilliant white asphalt tile, and the sunlight trickling through the windows beside the front door being replaced with sterile fluorescent light. Ororo continued down the hall a short distance, making first one turn, and then another, before stopping in front of a single, solitary keypad attached to the wall on her right. She lifted her hand and tapped out a quick sequence on the pad, the keys beeping softly in response, then she placed her hand with the fingers spread over a flat glass panel just below the keys themselves. There was an electronic hum, followed by a warm red light that seemed to scan the contours of her palm, then with a gentle hydraulic hiss a section of the wall quite suddenly opened just in front of where she stood.
The room beyond was small and circular. Ororo stepped inside, the door sliding silently shut behind her, and she cast a cursory glance at the four high windows set in the wall directly opposite of where she stood: windows that stretched from the ceiling to about halfway down the wall, where a bank of electronics, all flashing lights and levers and brightly colored buttons, blinked soundlessly in the room's subterranean quiet. There were three chairs at the control panel, but only one of them was occupied. The pretty redhead that sat there turned her chair around as Ororo entered, pulling off her headphones with a smile as Ororo took the seat beside her.
"Hey, girl."
"Hey," Ororo replied softly. She leaned forward and looked through the windows into the cavernous room below, that chamber they had long ago dubbed The Danger Room. There were two women there, one of them flying through the air with an ease that still astonished Ororo, even after all these years. It was Rogue...it was hard to mistake that tangle of brown curls with its distinctive white streak. As Ororo watched, Rogue did a neat aerial pirouette to avoid the clutches of a lower level hologram/robot, then sailed past the control booth's windows, saluting Jean and Ororo with a saucy grin as she passed.
Jean picked up a clipboard from the control panel, her eyes flicking over it casually. "Where's Logan?" she asked. "It says here that you two are paired for a training session this morning."
"He said he would be down shortly."
"Hmm...it's not like Logan to be late," Jean said.
Ororo didn't reply. She stood up instead, stepping closer to the windows as she tried to discern who the other woman was in the Danger Room with Rogue. Jean watched her in silence, an unseen smile playing on her lips.
The girl was quick, whoever she was...although no mutant powers seemed to be in evidence, she was light on her feet and rather adept at avoiding the lumbering things trying to corner her. Something about her seemed awfully familiar as well, and it puzzled Ororo...the girl was slight, petite, with short brown hair and a graceful mien, but otherwise unremarkable at this distance. "Who is that with Rogue?" she asked at last. "I don't recognize her."
"I was wondering when you would ask," Jean replied. "She came in last night, after you had gone to bed. I didn't think she was ready for a session yet, seeing as how she had been gone for so long," she continued with a shrug. "But she insisted."
"But who is it?"
Jean stood up with a small laugh. "Just watch...see if you can figure it out."
Ororo's eyes narrowed as she moved even closer to the glass, staring down into the room below with a frown. It was the FoH program, which consisted of a gaggle of robots, enhanced with the room's holographic capabilities, that appeared to be human soldiers on the attack. As Ororo watched, Rogue swept past again, obviously showing off a little with the simpler program...then a pair of the soldiers rushed the other girl without warning.
"Impressive counter-moves," Ororo murmured quietly, making a mental note to congratulate Scott for the new program...then her voice died and her heart nearly stopped in her throat...as the girl in the room beyond abruptly phased through both robots simultaneously, shorting out the entire program in one fell step.
"My Goddess," Ororo breathed.
"Yep, pretty impressive, all right," Jean commented almost smugly, leaning against the wall with her arms folded. "I wanted to tell you last night, but...hey! Where are you going?"
Ororo turned and crossed the control booth to a smallish door on the left, yanking it open with a jerk and nearly flying through it in her haste. The door let onto a set of open stairs that led down into the Danger Room itself, and she raced down them, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the bottom in a breathless rush. There was no danger...the program had stopped as soon as the young mutant had shorted out the system, and Ororo was conscious of Rogue coming to a light landing a short distance away from her as Ororo approached the other girl from behind.
"Great flying there, Rogue," the girl said. "I think you..." The words died on her lips as she realized Rogue was looking past her, at the tall woman standing at the foot of the stairs. The girl paused, then turned slowly, her pretty features coming into view over one slender shoulder.
Ororo's throat felt tight. "It is you," she whispered. "Kitty..."
The younger girl smiled shyly, her eyes welling slowly with tears. "Hi, Storm," she said softly. They looked at each other for a heartbeat of silence...then Kitty suddenly stumbled forward, falling into Ororo's arms as they wrapped around her in a tight embrace.
"You're home..." Ororo said, resting her head against Kitty's as her own eyes filled with tears.
"Yep," Kitty said, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I missed you so much..."
Neither noticed Rogue, as with a smile she flew silently toward the door and left them to their reunion.
* * * * *
It was hours later that found Ororo walking the mansion's grounds with Kitty, their arms linked as they caught up on the small deals and doings of everyone since Kitty had left. Ororo had left word with Jean to tell Logan (whenever he decided to show up) that she had gone to have a talk with the newly-returned Kitty instead.
Still, a small voice inside reminded her of what Logan had looked like that morning, and she felt a pang of guilt.
"I'm glad to be home," Kitty said beside her, her brown eyes roaming over the students wandering the grounds. They were walking along one of the many landscaped paths that meandered along the rolling lawn of the mansion, passing wrought-iron benches where students sat and talked in small groups, or bent their heads over a book or some homework. They passed a tall hedge, looking down to see Jubilee stretched out with one sandal off and a bottle of poison green nailpolish in her hand.
She looked up at them with a quick grin. "Nice to see you again, Kat!" she said. "I'm glad you decided to come back."
"Thanks, Jubes," Kitty said, smiling at her as they passed.
Ororo had been careful to steer clear of any mention of Colossus. His death was why Kitty had left in the first place, and Ororo remained sensitive to the moods of this girl...a girl she nearly thought of as a daughter. She led Kitty to the steps of the side porch, sitting down beside her on the sunwarmed stone as they watched a group of younger students playing kickball by the rose garden.
"Nothing much has changed," Kitty murmured. She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at Ororo with a small smile. "To tell the truth, I wasn't sure if I would be welcomed back."
"Why do you say that?" Ororo asked, surprised.
"Well," Kitty began slowly. "I wasn't sure there would be a place for me anymore. You know, here at the school. Or on the team."
"Once an X-Man, always an X-Man," Ororo said gently. "As you said, nothing has changed. Including that."
"Bonjour, mam'selle Kitty-Cat."
Both women looked up at the sound of the voice, which came from the tall, auburn-haired man walking easily along the narrow top of the brick wall surrounding the porch. He grinned at them, reaching the end of the wall and leaping down as lightly as a lynx.
"Good morning, Remy," Ororo said.
"Mornin', Stormy," he replied, tipping an imaginary hat. He then shifted his red on black eyes to Kitty. "Remy heard you came back las' night, Kitty-Cat. Sorry he won' dere to greet you."
"That's all right," Kitty said. She smiled politely. "It's good to see you again, Remy. I didn't know you were here."
"Oui, Remy jus' couldn't stay away," he replied with a grin. "De professor sent me to look for you, by de way."
"Me?" Kitty asked.
"Yeah. Somet'in' he wants to talk to you 'bout, Remy guess."
"Already? Sheesh," Kitty complained goodnaturedly. She turned back to Ororo and squeezed her arm briefly. "Let me go see what he wants. I'll see you later, okay?"
"Okay."
Kitty gave her a quick hug, then scrambled to her feet and up the steps onto the side porch. Ororo watched her go inside the house, then she sighed and propped her head on her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as she ran her long fingers through her hair. Remy tilted his head to the side, regarding her curiously.
"You mus' be glad dat de Kitty-Cat is home, non?"
"Very glad, Remy," Ororo said. She sighed again, then looked up at Remy with a smile. "I have missed her terribly. You have no idea."
"Oh, Remy t'inks he does." He trotted lightly down the steps,. then took a seat beside her in the space recently vacated by Kitty. "You look happier dan I have seen you in ages. I had no idea de petite meant dat much to you."
"I have known Kitty a long time," Ororo replied. "She is one of my oldest teammates."
"Oui. Remy is glad she is back, too."
Ororo favored him with an arched eyebrow and a smile. "I didn't think you knew Kitty that well, Remy."
"I don', but you are happy, an' it is good to see you smilin' again. You've been too glum lately." Remy stood up again, interlocking his long fingers and stretching his arms over his head with a contented groan. "Surely Kitty's absence wasn't de reason for de doom an' gloom, though?"
Ororo looked up at Remy thoughtfully. "Have I really been acting down lately?"
"Perfectly depressin'," Remy said with a laugh. He suddenly reached out and grabbed Ororo's hand, pulling her to her feet and into his careless embrace. "What's de matter wit' you, Stormy?" he asked, slipping one arm around her waist and dragging her into a clumsy waltz.
Ororo suppressed a startled giggle and tried ineffectually to push herself free of Remy's arms. "You are an idiot, Remy LeBeau," she laughed. "I have just had a lot on my mind, that is all."
"You t'ink too much, chere," he replied, abandoning the waltz and attempting an even worse tango. Soon they were both laughing, Ororo clinging to Remy in an effort to keep from falling on the ground in a tangled heap.
"Remy, will you stop?" she begged.
"Non, chere...you dance like a dream."
"Unfortunately, mein Freund, the same cannot be said for you," remarked a low, melodic voice from the direction of the house. Both Remy and Ororo abruptly stopped, glancing in mild embarrassment at the porch...and the strange-looking man that stood there.
"How long you been watchin', Kurt?" Remy asked.
"Long enough to know that you have two left feet," Kurt replied with a grin. His small, sharp teeth gleamed whitely against the dark blue of his fur, as did the square of white on the Roman collar at his throat.
Remy snorted quietly. "I suppose you t'ink you can do better...or aren't priests allowed to dance?"
"Nein, we can dance," Kurt replied, a twinkle in his yellow eyes. "Just not on Sundays."
Remy opened his mouth to retort, but then he caught the suppressed smile on Ororo's face and he realized he was being teased. "Kitty has already gone in de house," he said instead. "Dat is who you were lookin' for, non?"
"Actually, I was going out for a walk," Kurt said mildly. "I saw Katzchen last night...we had quite a nice talk."
Ororo watched the two of them, surprised as always by the barely concealed hostility Remy always displayed whenever Kurt was around. Maybe he does not like Catholics, she thought, and she lifted a hand to her lips to cover a sudden smile. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen," she said aloud. "I am going to go inside and see if I can help with lunch."
"Me, too," Remy said quickly.
Kurt nodded, still smiling. "I'll see you both later, then." He did not wait for their reply, but instead walked lightly down the steps and out onto the lawn, strolling away from them with the black skirts of his cassock whispering about his ankles.
Remy and Ororo watched him go. Remy waited until Kurt was out of earshot, then leaned close to Ororo and asked, "Why does he wear dat long black thingie, huh? Most de priests Remy seen, dey jus' wear black pants an' a shirt, an' de collar, of course."
"Because of his tail."
"Say again?"
"His tail," Ororo repeated patiently. "The cassock conceals his tail, whereas pants would not."
"Oh yeah, I forgot 'bout dat," Remy said. He studied Kurt as the priest continued to walk away, his figure a shadow of black and blue on the lawn. "No offense, though, but if you ask me he shoulda kept usin' de image transducer Hank made for him."
Ororo looked at him sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"Kurt's a nice guy an' all," Remy said with a shrug. "But he's awful damn creepy, if you ask me." He continued to watch Kurt in his stroll, totally missing the look of reproach Ororo gave him. Ororo shook her head, then turned on her heel and crossed the porch to enter the house, leaving Remy to follow if he wished.
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