Passion of Death
Chapter 8
by
Lornadane
Disclaimer: All X-men and X-villians are Marvel's characters. Please don't sue me. This was just fun to write. Aerin is my character.
Notes: If you're offended by this material I apologize. I don't condone non-consensual sex, this just fit into the story. It's pure fantasy and would not wish it to happen to anyone in reality.
Hank led Aerin up to the kitchen where Storm and Psylocke were preparing dinner. A well-meaning Gambit, almost fully recovered from his injuries, was trying to help.
"Get out of here, Cajun!" Yelled Psylocke. "It's hot enough as it is, without your special secret spice." She pointed to the beef stew boiling on the stove.
"You jus' don' know what your missin' chere." he said, trying to reach around her to sprinkle something in the stew. "Gambit know how to spice it up, non?"
"No." she said pushing him back. "And if you don't get out of here, you'll be wearing this stew." she threatened.
"It appears our resident Cajun considers himself quite the gourmet chef." Hank said conspiratorially to Aerin. "He tried this once on Jean, and ended up dressed in the turkey dinner we were suppose to enjoy Thanksgiving Day." She giggled and he said, "Aerin, meet Remy Lebeau, affectionately know around here as Gambit."
With a flourish only he could pull off, Remy took one of Aerin's hands in his bending to kiss it. "Chere..." he began, but was pushed back forcefully by the Beast. "It's a good thing you're wearing that glove, Remy, or she'd be charging you up like a Christmas tree with your own power. She takes on other mutations. It's her gift."
"Ah, petite." Gambit said forlornly, "Dat is too sad. Another beautiful mutant woman wit'out the ability t'touch others."
"She's only unable to touch smooth-talking cocky Cajun mutants." Hank told him. "She only absorbs the powers of mutants. Not their personalities, like our dear unfortunate Rogue." he explained. "She's taken on Wolverine's mutation. It appears she can touch him now without harm."
"Den de petite might like to have my power, non?" Gambit spoke flirtatiously to Aerin. "Dis t'ief could show you some pretty interestin' tricks, chere."
Aerin stepped back shaking her head. "I'd rather not." she said with a smile, charmed by his attention, but certainly not ready to exploit her newlyfound mutant powers. "I might hurt you."
"Ah, but de pain would be sweet." Gambit said smiling back. "Ahem." Interrupted the Beast, "I think you'll scare her soon with that charm of yours, Remy. Now, Aerin" he added rapidly before Gambit could get in another word. "The two talented cooks you see are Ororo Munroe and Betsy Braddock. Storm and Psylocke respectively."
Both women had watched the interplay in amused silence. Now Storm came around wiping her hands on her apron and then offering it to Aerin. Aerin took it shyly. "Pleased to meet you." Storm said. "Welcome to our home. I hope you'll like what we have to offer in the way of a meal. With all the crisises, no one's been able to get to the store, so we've had to improvise. Remy's contribution not withstanding."
"Hey!" said Remy, "Just cause you like dat bland food, don' mean everyone gotta settle." With that he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, knowing full well smoking in the house irritated most of the residents.
"Get out of here with that, " admonished Storm, "or I'll happily have Beast escort you out."
Gambit took a drag on the cigarette and sauntered away out the door. "Be back in time for de bland diet." he called over his shoulder. "Save a place for me, petite, eh?"
Storm sighed. Betsy laughed lightly. "He can even get to our reserved weather-goddess." She too offered her a hand. "I still don't see how Rogue puts up with him. He thinks he's quite the ladies man." Aerin took her hand thinking Remy had the right to consider himself a ladies man. He was quite charming and incredibly handsome. Even his strange red eyes only enhanced his mysterious appeal. But then all three X-men she had met so far were beautiful. Storm with her unblemished dark skin, long white hair and cat like eyes. And Psylocke with her Asian features and violet hair. Her English accent was a bit disconcerting, but only added to her strange beauty. Both women were tall with incredibly well toned bodies. And Remy's body was fashion model perfect. She felt considerably out of place amongst these perfect beings.
"Well, ladies," Hank said interrupting her thoughts, "We'll leave you to prepare the feast, and make our presence known to the rest of the fold."
"Dinner is almost ready, Henry." Storm said. "Most of the team are in the dinning room, waiting patiently. Would you tell them to bring their plates in here in about ten minutes. They can serve themselves."
"It would be my pleasure, dear Storm." Hank said, leading Aerin through a kitchen door opposite of where they had entered. They came into a large formal dining room. Aerin was becoming more and more awed by what she saw. She looked around the room at the furnishings. They weren't quite up to the standards they had been before Bastion had confiscated Xavier's possessions. But they were still impressive. A long cherry oak dining table stood in the center. Pictures dotted the walls. Monet, Renoir, Raphael. She wondered if any were the real thing. A few tapestries hung down giving the room an air of antiquity, like a medieval castle on a cold October night.
Seated around the table were the rest of the household, sans Wolverine, Jubilee, Jean Grey, Xavier and Scott Summers. Hank made the introductions. "Warren Worthington, Angel. Bobby Drake, our resident comedian, also called Iceman. Rogue. Kitty Pryde, aka Shadowcat. Piotr Rasputin and his brother Mikhail. Marrow or Sarah as we like to call her when she's in a good mood. Moira Mactaggert and Kurt Wagner, our resident fuzzy elf and swordsmaster."
"Ja." replied Kurt. "Don't you forget the swords either, mein freund. Fuzzy elf indeed." Aerin looked at him astonished. Like the Beast he was covered in blue fur. But he was leaner, had three fingers on each hand and had a prehensile tail that was wrapped around the back of his chair. He looked like a demon, not an elf. But he stood graciously and bowed to her. "A pleasure to meet you, fraulien." he said pleasantly. Again she found the accent of an X-men disconcerting. "Nice to meet you." she offered.
"Well this is a nice surprise." piped up Kitty. "She's not running from the room thinking she's seen a demon."
"I'm sure she's been pretty much prepared for anything after meeting Wolverine." said Marrow caustically.
A silence hit the room like a freight train. "Sarah." Kitty finally spoke up, chastising Marrow, "I wish you'd learn to hold that tongue of yours."
"I'll hold my tongue while I'm cutting out yours." Marrow threatened. Sarah's inner self had not quite caught up to the outer beauty she now possessed with her newfound control over her mutation. Kitty frowned at her, but said nothing, not wanting to antagonize the situation, especially in front of a guest. Instead she looked at Aerin and said, "Has Beast been treating you okay?"
She looked at Kitty puzzled. She hadn't quite made the connection to the name Wolverine. She blinked. "I have been the perfect gentleman, I assure you." said Hank in the wake of Aerin's silence.
"Except for the fleas, furball." chimed in Bobby
At that everyone laughed, even Aerin. Hank merely looked insulted. "I'll have you know I just used the Frontline spray yesterday. " He answered in a graciously hurt tone. More peels of laughter went around the table.
"Don't worry, Aerin, they're the best of friends." said Kitty with a wink as the laughter died.
"Well," said Hank, "after all this witty repartee, I'm sure we can convince Miss Stafford to stay awhile. Especially after she's tasted our cooking. Storm has requested that we take our plates into the kitchen. She refuses to serve you animals herself."
At that moment, Remy flowed in balancing a plate of stew and a glass of red wine. A roll was stuck in his mouth. He sat down next to Rogue and she glared at him. "Ain't you got any manners, Gambit. Guests eat first."
He looked at her grinning. "Not when you got a hungry t'ief in de house." She whacked him across the head. "I'm an injured man, petite." he cried.
"Not as injured as you're gonna be if ya'll don't apologize." warned Rogue. Gambit stood all grace and style. "Forgive dis' ole swamp-rat." he said to Aerin, "My recent injuries make me forget my manners. Can I offer you dis plate?"
Aerin smiled shaking her head. "Go on girl, you oughta dump it on his head." Rogue said. Laughter came from several corners. Then Hank handed Aerin a plate and urged her back to the kitchen. "You need to eat now. You haven't in days. You need the nutrition." She filled her plate under his watchful eye, making certain she was taking enough to build back her strength.
She sat down next to him across from Remy and Rogue. For awhile she concentrated on eating her meal, uncertain what to do or say. Occasionally she'd answer a question from one of the X-men. Her answers were brief and stilted and the one who had poised the question would quickly be drawn back to other conversations. After a little while she watched in nervous silence the interaction between the members of the team. They were all so comfortable around each other. She thought of their camaraderie and envied it a little. Again the feeling of not quite belonging came down on her. Emotionally she still denied her mutation, though intellectually she couldn't. She had seen the healing factor at work. She couldn't deny what she had seen with her own eyes. And the sensitivity of her hearing, her smell and eyesight had increased exponentially. Yet she couldn't accept it. Morosely she thought about reaching out and touching Dr McCoy. She'd prove she wasn't a mutant when she didn't turn into a blue furred woman. Then she could say, "There. I'm not one of you. I'm just an ordinary human, not like you freaks." It frightened her in a way she couldn't explain. It would change her life. From now on she'd touch people with trepidation, wondering all the while if she was touching a mutant. Wondering if plasma bolts were going to shoot out of her eyes everytime she took care of one of her patients. She'd have to wear gloves more often. Aerin closed her eyes. She wanted her life back. With all the blessed ignorance. She didn't want to know. Knowing meant she was more like him, Logan. A part of him was in her now and she didn't want to be aware of it. That only brought back painful memories. Memories she desperately wanted to be rid of. She listened to the banter of the people at the table. It was becoming difficult to sit there in silence and watch them, all the while wanting only to scream out her denials. She stood up suddenly pushing her chair away in an urge to run, to get out of there. Hank and the others looked up at her concerned. Feeling silly and exposed she turned quickly to Hank and asked "Where's the bathroom?"
He smiled, a flash of relief coming to his face. She had been so quiet. His concern about her emotional well being had been growing steadily throughout dinner. Finding out about her mutation at this time in her life must be difficult at best. He worried about how she would handle it. And when she stood up like that he had been afraid she wanted to leave, to get away from them, trying in vain to deny what she was. He felt a sudden protectiveness of her. When he had suggested to her to meet the X-men he had wanted to show her her kind. Let her know that they were every bit as human as homo sapiens. Make it easier for her to accept all he had told her. But perhaps he had pushed her too far, overwhelmed her with mutantkind. Yet she wasn't bolting. It was just a simple request and he graciously gave her directions to the nearest facility.
She left quickly through the door Hank had pointed at and followed the hallway down toward the bathroom. But she went passed it on a mission to find an entrance to the mansion. She wanted air. She had no way of getting back to New York without asking, but she could at least step out of the house. It'd give her some sense of control.
She passed a door and heard heated voices behind it. She paused for a moment, listening. The voices were discussing her. Jean Grey stood on the other side of the door looking at Charles Xavier and Scott Summers. Her eyes were narrowed and she was saying, "...that girl. If you intend to ask her to stay, I suggest you ask Logan to leave. Who knows what kind of mental damage it'll cause her to see him day after day?"
"I know how you feel." started Charles. "I saw the images. I know what he's done. Don't you think I don't feel some guilt for having asked him to join the team." He put up a hand to silence Jean. "And I know full well the danger of asking the girl to stay with Logan around. But what kind of message would that send to the others? We have forgiven Rogue her past. And Gambit. It would be hypocrisy on my part to send him away. To in essence tell him what he had done was unforgivable. Much as I am repulsed by his actions, and a little frightened by his psyche, I can not in good conscience tell him to leave."
"And the girl?" Jean challenged. "What about her psyche? Is she supposed to forgive him? Is that your big plan? To have her learn forgiveness inspite of all the brutality she's been subjected to. How can you ask that of her? What gives you that right?" "No one." Answered Xavier. "I can merely ask. She can accept my offer or not. I would never force her to stay. I only want to help her control her mutant power. She has a potentially dangerous mutation. And I would like to make sure she's safe. It could be so easily exploited. According to Logan, even Apocalypse was concerned about her genetic gift."
"Send him away, then Charles. Tell him you forgive him, but send him away." Jean pleaded with Xavier. "You'll only divide the team between those who want to protect her and those who are loyal to Logan."
"Perhaps if you told him to leave for a while." offered Scott. He had kept quiet, not quite certain of his own feelings on the matter. "It might help her transition to the team. And keep her painful memories at bay for awhile."
"You know well enough Scott that a person must face the thing he fears, or it'll only enslave him."
Jean shook her head. "It's not right. You can't force her fears away by bringing her memories back to the surface everyday. You saw the images, but you didn't see far enough. You didn't feel what I felt. He still has a lust for the girl. A dark desire. It was written on his face. He wants to...to conquer her. And I'm afraid he can't hold that demon down being so near to her. It'll only end with one of them hurt. And I can't imagine much hurting Logan." "Jean, " remonstrated Xavier. "That's unfair! You know the man. You've seen how badly he's been hurt over the years. Are we to throw away all our respect and friendship? Are we to offer no help? He's fought his demons time and time again. The scars are all written in his face. I believe he can fight this darkness too. I believe he can find redemption."
"I think you're a fool." Jean said.
"Jean." said Scott wanting to end this discussion before more words were said they'd regret. "It's Xavier's decision now. Regardless of whether or not Logan stays, we're leaving. Going back to Alaska." He looked at Xavier as if to say, "Give her time. It'll turn out all right."
Xavier dropped his head in sadness. "I had sensed you would leave. I understand, but....I'll miss you both. I'm sorry that you and I must part in disagreement, Jean. But know that I respect your opinions. I always have. I just hope you can trust me to make the right decision."
Jean went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Charles..." she began.
Aerin left, not wishing to hear the rest. Xavier wanted her to join the team. But Jean had been right. How could she face Logan day after day. Memories assailing her night after night. And was it true what she had said? That he still wanted to break her to his will. What would stop him from taking her as he had already done?
She found a door to a patio and stepped outside. She went to the edge of the patio and looked out at the darkness, hugging her arms. What would she say when Xavier asked her to join the team? What could she say?
Cigar smoke drifted across her sense of smell and she turned around sharply peering into the gloom. She saw the burning embers of the cigar held by a shadow leaning back against the wall. Why hadn't she sensed him there immediately? She knew his scent. Yet she had walked right past him deep in her own thoughts. A wave of fear caused her to tremble. She moved back toward the door, but he stepped in front of her dropping the cigar on the concrete crushing it beneath his boot. Panic tore through her. She wanted to flee, losing him in the darkness. But she stood her ground remembering what Xavier had said. She had to face her fear, or it would enslave her.
He started toward her cautiously, sensing her panic, not wanting to terrify her into bolting. But she stood there breathlessly, starring into his eyes, waiting for him to make the first move.
"I..." he began quietly, "I can't give you back what I've taken. I can't erase the harm I've done to you." He stepped closer to her. Lord, she was lovely, he thought. Even in the dim light her beauty radiated out to him. But he shook his head. He was trying to apologize. That was all. He wanted her to know how bad he felt. "All I can do" he continued, coming closer, "is ask your forgiveness."
All of a sudden he was there in front of her. She felt weak, drugged by his presence. She was spellbound. Fear had given way to longing. She couldn't speak or move, for the sight and smell of him overpowered her. He reached up with his hand touching her cheek, wiping a way an errant tear with his thumb. She closed her eyes swaying slightly toward the hand brushing her cheek and he caught her shoulders quickly steadying her, wanting nothing more than to pull her to him. But he held back. "Please," he said, a plea in his voice. "Please forgive me, darlin'. I'm sorry." She kept her eyes closed, but turned her face up to him. She said nothing, and he thought he sensed in her silence forgiveness. Tenderly he kissed her forehead, her cheek, her eyes, her other cheek. Then he touched her lips with his and felt her open beneath him.
"Aerin?" Came Henry's voice from the doorway. "Are you all right?" The spell was broken. Aerin stepped away from Logan but he caught her arm in a vise-like grip. "Course she's alright, McCoy." he rasped.
Hank could sense Logan's arousal in his smell and voice. "Aerin?" he asked again, his own voice full of concern.
"I'm fine, Dr McCoy." Aerin answered, a tremor in her voice to indicate how far from fine that she was. She looked at Logan. "Please." she whispered. "Let me go."
He snatched his hand away as if it had touched a scorching flame. He let her go around him to the door and sadly watched her go inside. "Aerin." he said softly, feeling her name for the first time on his lips. Then he slipped out into the darkness, certain he had her forgiveness, but wanting more, so much more.
Hank watched Aerin step past him into the house, his face awash with relief. He had prevented something before it had started. Something he felt would have had catastrophic consequences. "Aerin?" he said as she kept moving toward a hallway on her right. She seemed a little dazed. Logan's effect on her had been disarming. Hank's voice brought her back to reality and she turned as he said her name. He poised to say something reassuring, but she stopped him saying "I'm tired, Dr McCoy. Could you show me back to the medical area? I'd kinda like to lie down for awhile, if that's okay?"
He nodded in understanding. The day had been emotionally overwhelming for her. He could see it in her eyes, the weariness of having to take in so much. It had to be draining. "I can see you'd rather not meet anyone else today." he spoke kindly. "However, the lab would be a dreadful place in which to rest. There's a guestroom upstairs you may use. It's not much, but it would be more comfortable than the medlab. And there's a shower too. I'm sure you'd like to freshen up."
She nodded in agreement. "I bet I smell awful." She smiled weakly. "I hope you don't have the heightened senses that I've acquired. I'd think being around me would be unbearable."
"No my dear," Hank grinned at her, "I haven't noticed any offensive odors coming from your direction. Now Gambit...." He winked at her and her smile broadened. She silently thanked him for his warmth and kindness, his gentle desire only to ease her tension. He was a good man, blue fur, canine teeth and all.
He led her through several rooms to the main stairs in the mansion. She wondered how he could find his way around in the maze of rooms and hallways. But then he had lived here a good part of his life. They went up the stairs down another hall, and turning to the left at the end he showed her to the guestroom. It was very utilitarian. It hadn't been a priority in the redecorating after Operation Zero Tolerance. There was a twin bed and a small dresser. No pictures. And no windows. A small bathroom stood to the right of the doorway. Aerin shivered slightly thinking of how it reminded her of her prison cell. But she said nothing to Hank, not wanting to alarm him. At least it had a bathroom she told herself, calming her mind. She stepped into the room and sat on the bed looking around. Hank stood a little awkwardly in the doorway. "There are towels in the bathroom and I'm sure I could find you something to sleep in. The girl's dorm is just down the hallway. I'm sure Betsy or Jubilee would have something. I'll just go and see." he finished rambling and turned to go.
"Wait, Dr McCoy." Aerin stopped him, a plea in her voice. "Please don't go. Not yet." She sat silently looking at her feet avoiding his gaze as he turned back to her. He waited for her to speak, knowing what she was going to say if she could muster the courage, and dreading it. Finally she nodded to herself, took a deep breath and said, "I want to talk about it. I need to before I shove it so far back in my memory that I start to pretend like it didn't happen. If I do that it'll only get worse, coming out in other ways, making it difficult to live." A tear trickled down her face. "Post traumatic stress disorder. That's what a therapist would call it. I may still suffer it from it later, but maybe I can lessen the effect, if I could just get it out now." She looked up at him, half-fearful that he'd say no and half fearful he'd say yes. "Oh dear." Hank sighed knowing he couldn't deny her request. He'd been the one to find her awake, the one who had introduced her to the team, and the one who had protected her from Logan. If only Moira had been there, he might not have found himself in this uncomfortable situation. But he couldn't foist this on his teammates. It wouldn't be fair to them or to her. She needed someone to talk to, so he must be there for her. Strengthening his resolve, he closed the door and went to sit by her. She had gone back to staring at her feet. He kept silent not wanting to rush her, hoping maybe she'd change her mind. Slowly she began to speak. She began her account at the moment she woke in the arena. She spoke quietly leaving little out of the story. Leaving little to the imagination. Hank listened, trying to stay objective, just here her out without becoming emotionally involved. Yet inside his emotions went from appalled to outraged, then saddeness to finally resignation. He had imagined beating Logan into oblivion. Then stringing his sorry hide up in the Danger Room and letting Aerin have her revenge. But as she began to describe Logan's tenderness toward her, his concern as he left the blanket and pillow, he began to see in Death the man Logan had been. Yes, Logan had been brutal, but there had been a pattern of remorse in the description Aerin gave. And Beast had watched the man sit by Aerin's bed, his face, and his body expressing the guilt he felt. Hank had no doubt Logan regretted the pain he had caused this girl. But he wondered at Logan's actions tonight. His arousal had been unmistakable. Henry grew concerned wondering what the consequences would be if Aerin stayed at the mansion. He was certain Professor Xavier would offer her a place on the team, a chance to master her mutant ability.
The point became moot as her heard her say, "It's why I have to leave. Tonight. I can't stay here. Everyone's been kind, especially you, Dr McCoy. But I can't be around him. It's too painful and I'm terrified of him and yet I'm drawn to him. If I saw him now, I wouldn't leave. And that can't be good for me, can it? It'd only hurt me in the end. In some screwed up way he'd have taken everything, even my will. I need to get my own life back. I need to know on my own that I'm safe or at least that I can survive. And I need time to take all this in, to understand what happened and somehow learn to accept it." She paused turning to look at him, begging him to understand. He could do nothing else.
"Of course, Aerin. I can't persuade you to stay after all that you've told me. Logan is a friend, but I'm ashamed of his actions towards you. When I saw you with him tonight, I felt a danger. Something warned me to come to your aid. I understand now. And I do believe you need to get your life back." He touched her on the shoulder squeezing it in encouragement. "Then you'll help me get home tonight." she asked. He heard the urgency in her voice. She was afraid she might see Logan again, and all her plans would come to naught. But the night was late. He was tired, and driving her back to New York could be dangerous.
"Not tonight." he answered her, putting up his hand to silence her protest. "It's too late. It would be irresponsible on my part to bring you into the city at this late hour. I'll drive you in the morning. Early, so you won't have to say anything to anyone. I can make your excuses for you."
"I can't let you drive me." she said. "You've done enough already. I can't ask you to do that. If you could call a cab for me, I'd get home alright."
"Tish tosh." he answered back. "It would be my pleasure."
But something in her didn't want him to drive her home. She couldn't explain it. Fear perhaps. Being seen with him. A mutant. Was it too much to accept his offer knowing she was now a mutant?
"Please. I wish you wouldn't." He heard the anxiety in her voice, the plea for control. He realized what she could not explain. She needed to have some semblance of control. She needed to make some decisions for herself. So he backed off saying, "Very well. I'll call a cab for you, bright and early. I'll have them here by six. I'll have you up by five. Does that sound reasonable?" he asked.
She exhaled. "Yes. Thank you."
He stood up. "Now you need to get some rest. I'll go locate something for you to sleep in...oh," he put a hand to his chin thinking, "you'll need something to wear tomorrow. I couldn't let you go in that uniform. Someone might catch on to your secret identity." She snorted in laughter. He grinned. That was better, he thought, making her laugh. "Now you go take a shower and I'll place the clothes on your bed. And don't worry I will have you up and away before anyone's the wiser." He finished and opened the door. He looked down at her seeing relief in her face. "I've got cash stashed away for emergencies...no...I insist." once again he stopped her protests. "And I'll give you my number in case you should need anything. Anything at all. Don't hesitate to call me." He wanted to add especially if some evil mutant were stalking her, but felt it might not be in good taste. Then he bounded from the room on his errand.
She undressed quickly and went into the bathroom. She stood for sometime looking at herself in the mirror thinking about all that had happened. Thinking about him. Would he come to her room tonight? She had felt such a longing for him when he had asked her forgiveness. She hoped he would not come looking for her. And she hoped he would. In spite of her freedom she was still his. She would never be rid of the thought of him. She'd long for him in the years to come. But she would fight for her life back. She'd fight for her freedom. Tomorrow she'd get away. Tonight, she'd lock the door, hoping it would discourage him should he come for her. She stepped into the shower and began washing away days of grime and memories.
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