Night and Day: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
Chapter 6
by
Mo
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel. The movie belongs to Fox. Belarus is an independent country and belongs to its citizens, mutant and otherwise. Bryn Mawr is a private women's college founded in 1885. It belongs to the women, mutant and otherwise, who have lived and learned there for the past 116 years. I do feel like Scott and Logan are a little bit mine since I've been borrowing them for so long.
After I showed Warren and Scott to their rooms, I went to mine. Logan and I have the best bedrooms, I think. I guess that comes from being here first. Both great big rooms with beautiful views of the woods. I'm a little jealous of the fireplace in his, though. Well, he is in charge of the project. He also seems to have this aversion to being cold at night.
I had had fun furnishing my room. Wendy helped me strip and refinish the big sleigh bed I found at a junk shop in Prince Albert. It's my pride and joy - rich oak frame, big soft duvet, lots of pillows. I sleep on it, read on it, keep the community's books there, spreading bills and papers all around me with a lap desk for writing on. Kind of a big bed for one person, though.
It had been a long day and I was tired. Just pulled off my jeans and climbed into bed, cursing the single life a bit. I was feeling a little wistful. "Ou sont les neiges d'antan?" I said it aloud, looking out the window at the snows of today.
Thought for a while about Kolya. I hadn't thought about him for a long time, but with Belarus in the news he'd been on my mind. Not that he was in any danger. Might he be one of the ones putting others in danger? Mon dieu, that didn't bear thinking about.
I fell asleep thinking about it, anyway. Not for long, though. I woke up, hearing movement downstairs, and went to investigate. To my surprise, Mac was in the living room, sitting on the big couch in front of a roaring fire. "Mac, what are you doing here?"
He got up to greet me, saying, "Aren't you happy to see me?" holding his arms out to me. I found myself excited to see him, no longer surprised. And then, looking down a bit, he said, "I guess I know the answer to that question." I was suddenly painfully aware of how little I was wearing. But my embarrassment turned to surprise again as he put his arms around me and kissed me.
"Mac? What's going on?" I asked as he steered me towards the couch, kissing me, holding onto my ass.
"Don't tell me you don't want to, Jean-Paul." I couldn't tell him that. How had I worked for him for years without ever noticing just how sexy he is? I put my hands on those broad shoulders and kissed him back. Before I knew what was happening we both had our clothes off and I was lying on my back on the couch, with Mac lying on top of me, stroking my cock with one rough, callused hand, telling me he was dying to fuck me.
I pulled my legs back, over his shoulders. He had a hard time getting in at first. "Long time, Jean-Paul?" he asked, finally pushing in hard.
"Too long," I told him. And then "Mon dieu" again as he started moving, hitting that spot again and again with each hard stroke. I closed my eyes to just concentrate on the feeling. But when I opened them again, it wasn't Mac's face I saw but Kolya's. Big eyes, curly dark hair and that beautiful smile over me as he fucked me deep and hard. But somehow it was okay that it wasn't Mac any more.
"Ja Ciabie lublu" I said to Kolya, carefully, but probably pronouncing it wrong, anyway. He thrusted deep into me, coming hard inside, saying "Je t'aime, Jean-Paul," and then collapsing on top of me. I stroked his hair while he caught his breath. "As much as I hate the muties, Jean-Paul," he said. "That's how much I love you."
I woke up with a start. Not a good sign, that dream. When I find myself dreaming about sex with my straight married boss and an old mutant-hating boyfriend I think it's fair to say I've been alone too long.
***
Mommy. Milkie. Daddy. Hug. Jean-Paul. Fly.
***
Scott is on his knees in front of me. Sucking my cock. It feels great, feels like it never did with any of the women I've had. "Informed head," I remember him saying. But, then, it's not him there. It's Betsy. I close my eyes and open them and this time it's Diana, looking just like she did the last time I saw her, more than 10 years ago. And she stops sucking me and says, "I always knew you were a faggot."
I woke up suddenly. My shoulders and neck still hurt a little from having my wings bound. I decided to go flying for a while, thinking it would help limber me up and shake off the dream at the same time.
***
I left Scott there in the living room and went upstairs to my bedroom. Slammed the door. Then just paced back and forth, across that big room, door to window. Again and again, wearing out the floor. Thinking what I should have said, should have done. Thinking nothing I say could make a difference, anyway. Thinking I should just forget about the whole thing. Forget about him. Not bloody likely. Not any time soon.
Heard that guy in the room next door. Opening the window, climbing out. So, I went to my window and watched him. Wanted to see what he was up to. Left the lights off so he wouldn't see me.
The moon was full, reflecting off the snow. I could see him real good, gleaming white in the sky. Enormous wings, like nothing I'd ever seen before. Long graceful body. Swooping and soaring. Expression of pure joy on a face like a statue or a painting or something. Wasn't hard to come up with his code name, I guess. I watched him a long time. "What's the fucking point of even trying?" Didn't know I was saying that last bit out loud until I heard it.
I felt like smashing something. Or someone. Got myself under control and went to take some of those herbs 'Ro gave me. Well, maybe I wasn't totally under control. The bottle broke in my hand - glass and blood everywhere. I threw out the glass pieces and the cuts healed. So, I go to sleep without that stuff one night. I figured I'd mix up some more in the morning.
I lay down on my bed and just worked on emptying my head, turning off all those thoughts. So hard. But then I wasn't there any more.
I didn't know where I was, but it wasn't a bed. Hard surface, lying face down. On a floor? I couldn't see anything, couldn't tell if it was really dark or something was covering my eyes. I tried to reach with my hand to see if there was something on them, but my hands were stuck. And my feet. Some sort of manacles, with chains to something. Who did this to me? Idiots, anyway. Thinking manacles can hold me. Popped the claws on my right hand to cut the chain. But it wouldn't cut. What could it be that adamantium can't get through? Struggled for a long time, using claws, limbs, torso, head - everything I've got. But I couldn't move.
And then I wasn't alone. I smelled him before I heard him. He smelled familiar but I couldn't remember who he was. Not even when he started talking, started laughing at me for thinking I could get away. Before I knew it he was hitting me, kicking me. All over my body. I couldn't fight back at all. I was bleeding from more places than I knew I had, hurting all over. I knew there was nothing on my eyes now, because I was bleeding from both of them. Still couldn't see. Real, real dark.
And then, without warning, he was on top of me. Huge, covering my body with his and so much of him left over. Still pounding me with his hands and scratching me with nails like an animal's claws, raking lines of blood and pain. Now, pounding into me with his cock, too. He hadn't said a word to me since he'd started beating me, just made these roaring, animal-like sounds. Now he said something. "Scream for me." And, God help me, I did.
He left without a word when he was done. "If I ever meet you again, you'll die," I said. And opened my eyes. Dark, but not too dark for me to see. In bed, not on a floor. No manacles. No wounds, but I could still feel the pain, the anger. The shame. I said it again, out loud. "I see you, you die." But a voice in my head said I'd seen him. And left him alive.
*******************************************************
They are all coming at me, faces contorted with rage. "No mutants!" they're screaming. So many of them.
"Get behind me, April!" I yell. She has never heard me yell at her but she knows to do what I tell her. And I'm fighting them off, keeping them away from my little girl. I'm stronger than all of them put together, but there's so many and it's hard to keep track of them.
Then they are getting larger. Much bigger. I can't reach to fight them off - I'm barely up to their knees. I turn to tell April to run away and I see that she is bigger than me, too. It's not that the attackers are growing. I'm shrinking. So small I almost don't exist.
***
He's back. I can hear him saying it again. "That's no fun. If we gag him I don't get to hear him scream." And then arguing with Toad about when and how to kill me. "Dead is dead," he's saying, over and over, beating me while he says it. There are handcuffs binding my wrists; my eyes are covered. Helpless again.
And then Logan's with me and I'm not helpless any more. "Trust me, Scott," he says. "Open your eyes when I tell you to." And he slices the blindfold and the manacles on my hands. Sabretooth is still beating me, but Logan and I are fighting back. Together. "Now!" he yells and I open them wide. But it isn't Sabretooth I'm looking at. It's Logan, falling to the ground with a huge hole through his whole body. Right where his heart should be. Sabretooth is laughing as he grabs me from behind, saying, "Now the fun begins."
And then the scene shifts and I'm on a stage. It's some sort of period piece. I'm dressed like a character out of Dumas or Sabatini and I have a sword in my hand. I'm giving a speech about love and death and suddenly I see Sabretooth in the audience. His face is masked, but I know it's him. Suddenly, in the middle of the play, I'm denouncing him as a murderer. "There is the man!" I yell. "He murdered my best friend. My lover." And I leap from the stage, sword in hand. He has a sword now, too, and we fence as the audience parts like the Red Sea.
I'm backing him up, overwhelming him with my swordsmanship. Errol Flynn has nothing on me. I've got him backed into a corner and, with one deft move, I break his sword in half. He's totally unarmed now and begging for mercy.
I have none. "Now the fun begins," I say as I drive the sword into his heart. He falls to the ground. I rip off the mask and I find it's my own face I'm looking at.
***
I'm building a new dollhouse. My plans are laid out in front of me, drawn from my memory of Grandpa's. And it's a little hard to see, because the tears keep clouding my vision. So, it takes me a while to realize that there's a tiny little person in the living room of the unfinished doll house. First I think it's a doll, but I look closer and see it's moving. Curiouser and curiouser. The little figure is speaking, but it's so tiny I can't make out details or hear what it's saying.
I go to get my magnifying glass and come back. The tiny person is still standing there, in the middle of the living room of the under-construction dollhouse. Yelling now, so I can almost hear what it's saying. I bend down with my magnifying glass and see that the tiny figure is Arthur. "Get me out of here, Wen!" he's yelling.
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